A Canadian fiddler who is no stranger to controversy has put half his future music earnings up for sale on eBay, the auction website.

Ashley MacIsaac, who says he declared personal bankruptcy in 2000, is seeking a minimum bid of C$1.5 million (744 million pounds) from an investor who would in turn get half of what the Cape Breton musician earns during the rest of his career.

Isn’t he in jail for pissing on his underage fiddler-diddler?

Oh well, there’s a sucker born every minute - someone will buy this guy’s non-existent career.

For those of you who get Showtime, you’ve probably seen the ads for HBO’s Big Love. There’s a Patsy Cline song used in the ad.

What is it? I’ve never heard it before, and I’ve tried Googling the lyrics to no avail. Go forth and find this out for me!

Merci.

It’s been fifteen years since my mother succumbed to lung cancer. Cigarettes were her vice. Two and a half packs a day for thirty years. When she died she was just 47 lbs.

Everyone loved my mother. She was a perfect angel to all who knew her. Kind, benevolent, trustworthy - she was a girl scout. Funny, silly, a middle-aged child.

Why then do I have so many nightmares about her? Why was I so shy when she was alive, and only came out of my shell when she was gone? Sure, I fucked up a lot of my life after her death, and my father’s a few years later. But I can’t help but wonder if I would be as strong, interesting and successful as I am today had she given up her habit and lived to see me into my twenties. Or would I be doing as all my friends are beginning to do, and turning into my mother?

The dynamic of a mother-daughter relationship is a strange one. Every one is different. Some mothers and daughters are remarkably alike in looks, interest and temperament. Others are like night and day. My mother and I weren’t at each other’s throats, but we were quite opposite. I was my father’s child - smart and sharp and acerbic. I was dramatic, a diva at a young age. My mother was a tomboy in jeans who would entertain the kids (my friends and I) by building a campfire or teaching us to climb trees. She could shoot. I could walk in heels. She was a backwoods girl who said “eh” a lot. I read my first Tolstoy at 11. When she died, I felt like I could breathe.

My father, on the other hand, was lost without her. Within five years, he drank himself to death. Saying it that way makes it sound so ugly - and it was, don’t get me wrong. But time and distance have a way of letting you blur the edges, and now I prefer to say that he died of a broken heart. Because he did. The day we buried my mother, we left him behind in her grave.

Over and over he would play Honey, and cry silently, empty bottle on the table and tears streaming down his cheeks from his glassy bloodshot eyes. I’ve never seen any man of any age so in love with a woman that he willed his heart to stop beating for her. Terrifying as it was, it was also beautiful. Fifteen years ago today, he lost Honey.

Aside from that insufferable falsetto.

The lakeside Tennessee home of late country music superstar Johnny Cash has been destroyed in a fire.

It burned down on Tuesday while renovations were being carried out for its new owner, Bee Gee Barry Gibb.

The interior of the house, in Hendersonville, Tennessee, was used in the video for Cash’s final hit, his 2002 cover of Nine Inch Nails’ Hurt.

Cash and his wife, June Carter Cash, lived in the house from 1968 until their deaths, months apart, in 2003.

Having lost my own house in the same fashion, this breaks my heart.

Daylight has found me here again
You can ask me anything, but where I’ve been
Things that used to matter seem so small
When you’re looking for a soft place to fall

Don’t misunderstand me, baby, please
I didn’t mean to bring back memories
You should know the reason why I called
I was looking for a soft place to fall

Looking for a soft place
Nothing more than a small taste
Of a love that ended long ago
Looking for a place to hide
A warm bed on a cold night
I didn’t mean to hurt you
No, no, no

Looking out your window at the dawn
Baby, when you wake up, I’ll be gone
You’re the one who taught me after all
How to find a soft place to fall

You’re the one who taught me after all
How to find a soft place to fall

An earworm that will have you humming it all day…

Ain’t gonna follow no child molester, sex offender, prophet pretender.

Ain’t gonna follow no child molester,

Islam is not for me.

In my ears tonight: the rushing of blood, the buzz of a million thoughts, and music…

The Letting Go - Melissa Etheridge
I came here to let you know
The letting go
Has taken place
I have held the winter’s son
Become one
Set my pace
Isn’t that what we wanted all along
Freedom like a stone
Maybe we were wrong
But I can say goodbye
Now that the passion’s died
Still it comes so slow
The letting go

Path of Thorns - Sarah McLachlan
Through the years I’ve grown to love you
Though your commitment to most would offend
But I stuck by you holding on with my foolish pride
Waiting for you to give in…
You never really tried or so it seems
I’ve had more than myself to blame
I’ve had enough of trying everything
And this time it is the end…

Goodnight and Thank You - Madonna & Antonio Banderas
Oh but it’s sad when a love affair dies
The decline into silence and doubt
Our passion was just too intense to survive

Breakfast After Ten - Blue October
And I’ve learned a lot from all these break ups and make ups
And fuck ups and fake ups
Things that I wish you could comprehend yeah, comprehend
But for now I’ll lace up
these wingtip shoes, boys
And I’ll go have breakfast with my good friends

Bad Timing - Blue Rodeo
I never meant to make you cry
And though I know I should call
It just reminds us of the lost
Of everything we’ve lost
Bad timing that’s all

Did I Shave My Legs For This? - Deanna Carter
I bought these new heels, did my nails
Had my hair done just right
I thought this new dress was a sure bet
For romance tonight
Well it’s perfectly clear,between the TV and beer
I won’t get so much as a kiss
As I head for the door I turn around to be sure
Did I shave my legs for this?

Wow. Been a long damn time since I heard this song. I remember driving around the West Island, angry at some horrible thing he’d said or done. Angry at the man whose babies I had pre-named, for the day I finally got to have them. That bastard.

And this little-known chick screaming out the window as I raced at least 80km over the Lakeshore speed limit (yes, that was me that caused those speedbumps to go in - sorry ’bout that).

As you may have read, I was not permitted (by Mr. Right, who worries about me) to bring any political books on vacation to the Dominican. So I’ve been making up for lost time since getting back.

Marky Steyn’s America Alone, followed by Ann Coulter’s Godless (given to me for Christmas by one of my near & dear), and now I’m on Melanie Phillips’ Londonistan.

Blogging will continue to be scarce while I catch up!

In my ears while I read:

Running with the Devil - Van Halen
Calling You - Blue October
Kiss Me Black - The Birthday Party
Don’t Get Angry - Blue Rodeo
Path of Thorns - Sarah McLaghlin
Waltz for Eva and Che - Madonna & Antonio Banderas
Anarchy in the UK - Sex Pistols
Cry, Cry, Cry - Johnny Cash
Date Rape Song - Sublime
Fuck Them All - Mylene Farmer