-First things first, you need dirt. This is an all-purpose ingredient and it goes with everything. The ground can only be two things; dirt and concrete. Grass, while it is present, is completely accidental outside the king's many vast palaces.
-Next you must decide how large and/or important your town will be, this is dependent upon where in Morocco's varied geography you happen to be. If it's by the water or along a busy land trade route, chances are it's going to flourish more than a town in the middle of the of the Atlas mountains where goats outnumber people. If you've chosen a port town, fill this port with men whos' job it is to give you information that is only useful to you in hindsight and make sure that every ferry leaves either just as you arrive or 2 hours after it should have. Sprinkle liberally with touts and other shifty characters (this may vary according to season). The land trade route town must place it's touts somewhere and since a port is unavailable, must make do with a larger than usual medina. This medina should be confusing; if foreigners can make it from one side to the other without getting lost and invariabley ask for help from one of the always helpful locals ($$$), you have failed miserably and should look to creating shopping malls instead.
-The medina is always in a default setting, by which I mean they're all the same; very confusing, various smells (both delicious and horrendous), vendors sell crappy toys that no one seems to buy (even back in 1982 when they were first introduced), offer 'authentic' designer goods (A Louis Vuitton handbag for 30 bucks, what a bargain!), Moroccan homeland goods (mass produced, but the dirt on them makes them look antique), and dirt cheap food i.e. - freshly squeezed orange juice, churros, and peanut brittle. All food here must cost no more than 15 cents Canadian and all goods in the medina can be bargained down to at least 50% the original asking price.
-When creating the road system in a Moroccan town, start with the Alpha and Omega of crossroads; Mohammed V Avenue and Hassan II Avenue. All other roads must tangle and weave away or towards these two roads. Paint traffic lines on the main roads mainly for show; for those who have been there know they clearly bear no meaning to those who drive the streets.

I'll take a break from cityplanning to tell you about the most essential thing your business in Morocco needs in order to survive: A picture of the reigning king, Mohammed VI. All pictures must, of course, be approved by the monarch but must look like they were taken with a disposible camera. The picture must also 'catch' the king at the moment when he looks the most stern and authoritative seeing as how he has unprecedented control over his countries' government. Pictures range from; the king in a finely-taylored suit, the king in traditional dress (a man of the people), and the king sitting at a well-appointed table. Basically he must look like the kind of man 99% of the population will never see in their lifetimes; a rich one. The portrait must be placed high above the entrance, not only so the king can look down at his lowly subjects but also I believe he acts just as a horseshoe would in North America; as a bringer of good luck. Put him in a very easily seen spot so you can be lucky enough to keep your store open. Western businesses are not exempt either. The king must be present because only he can be the true Burger King and only he can deem if it is truly finger-lickin' good.

You are witnessing the last entry on ArtificialDeath, for my date of departure is quickly approaching. Maybe this page will be here when I return. Maybe not. Oh well, it's been something. This page has killed a hell of a lot of time for me, although you can't really tell by the layout.

This page didn't even make it to its 1st birthday. It would have made it if this pesky trip to Europe didn't get in the way. No complaints on my part, although I know it's unfair to you; my loyal reader(s).

So Santa has been off the job for a couple days now, holed up again in his ice fortress on top of the world. His damage done, now he plots for his eventual return. Wrapping paper is blowing through the streets like tumbleweed, crushed by those hoping to get a bargain during Boxing day-turned-to-a-week sales.

At a street corner in my town a nativity scene was set up back in November. It's a nice, traditional one; no surprises there. One notable addition are the guards that were hired to protect the area 24 hours a day. This was probably done in an effort to stop bored teens from doing the usual dumping of loads of soap in the fountain. With the fountain now covered, they would be sure to have little alternative but to target the nativity. Naturally, serious precautions were taken because nothing is worse than a foaming Jesus.

By the end of this year, at least 50% of the population will own an MP3 player in some incarnation or another. Those without will be regarded as inferior, becoming outcasts; forced to create a new society. This new society will grow to resent those who were once their social equals, leading to a massive war of the classes; The iPod People vs. The Norms. This battle should be more destructive than the Cabbage Patch Wars of 1984. The Norms should be victorious due to the fact that the iPod People won't be able to hear eachother with those earphones in, making organization impossible. All must take this as a cautionary tale and to avoid the bloodshed just buy a splitter cable.

Happy Festivus, Georgie!

Today was the last day of work for the year, so it looks like it's back to walking the streets. So what are you into? The Cleveland Steamer costs extra. No kissing on the mouth.

Over the last few weeks I've noticed that everyday there have been cops frequenting a backroad on my route to work. There might be one every so often, but lately it's been ridiculous. Every morning at least one unfortunate soul has been snared by the iron hand of John Law. The only reason I've been able to notice them in time is because some sap, possibly seconds before I drive down the road, has been pulled over. Even today when I was going to work in the morning one was already hard at work and as I was leaving work a few more crossed my path. Nothing like a hefty speeding ticket a week before Christmas to give you that warm, fuzzy feeling. Better them than me. Ain't I full of the Christmas spirit?

Just in time for the Christmas season I present to you a series of lies you can throw into idle conversations at cocktail parties, when speaking to total strangers, or with local law officials...
- I was briefly the Canadian ambassador to Portugal. I had to step down because I insisted on calling all residents of Lisbon, Lisbians.
- I was on the bear-wrestling circuit to make money to pay for my schooling. Still had to go to DeVry.
- I once saved Colonel Sanders from drowning in a creek in Kentucky. His reward; free fried chicken for life.
- I was an extra in the movie "Weekend at Bernie's". The 'Bernie gets a lapdance' scene was later cut.
- Al Gore is full of shit; I invented the Internet and I did it with nothing more than a roll of tinfoil, some paperclips, and hamster in a wheel.

It's been about a week, time for another update I suppose.

Quick update on Europe before I get to some useless, mundane everday shit: Reserved a place to crash after the 10-hour flight to London. It's some mansion-turned-hotel in the middle of the city, so you know it beats a bench in the park any day. It's should be quiet and looks like it should be out of our price range, but it ain't so that's a plus.

You might be wondering about the title of this particular blog entry, as well you should. It pertains to a comment, I must correct myself; a manifesto, that was left early this morning as a 'reply' to my last entry. The comment they left even prompted the administration at Blogdrive to send me an email, possibly because it's the longest fucking response to a question I've never asked. I read it and I must say I've never been more confused, and I've been pretty damn confused before.
I was confused because, one; this comment wasn't in reaction to anything I had ever written about, two; because half of it wasn't even in English, and three; because this person foolishly attempted to use my site as some portal to a larger audience to which I'm sure they are now sorely disappointed.

Over the past few days it has rained unceasingly; flooding the lowlands, worrying both farmers and midgets alike. This rain has inspired local radio stations to become ever more clever in their programming. Here is but a small sampling of the songs I have heard:
- Blind Melon - No Rain
- Led Zeppelin - Fool in the Rain
- Prince - Purple Rain
- The Tragically Hip - New Orleans is Sinking
- Creedence Clearwater Revival - Have You Ever Seen the Rain?

Make History come alive (figuratively speaking)! See if you can unlock the secret playable character; the shooter on the grassy knoll. I wonder, if this game does well, what's next? A prequel focusing on Abraham Lincoln, with a bonus McKinley assassination scenario? I'd buy that.

We got a new worker at my job to fill the nightshift duties, turns out he already wants to quit. He only lasted 2 weeks and happens to be sick today. Very suspect indeed, especially since he left work early yesterday to collect a cheque from a previous employer. Must be the Seagrams flu. His reason for leaving wasn't because the work is soul-crushingly boring or that the majority of the people he works with are as colourful as a Communist fashion show, his reason was because his back hurt due to the lifting element of the job. The lifting he is required to do every 2.5 hours. What a terrible excuse because those other two excuses would have worked perfectly. Well that's fine, this job has already had its fill of spindly guys that have some skill with computers and no work ethic...and smell. He said he wants to focus on going to school next semester in January, but still doesn't think he should stay on till then. My guess is that he's going to find a cabin in the middle of nowhere just to be alone with his thoughts and get in the right frame of mind for whatever the hell he'll be doing. Maybe he could lift a dumbell while he's at it.

Last night was a prime example of karma finally pulling its weight. I just so happened to be with Kristen (who I'm sure will tell you her version of the events) driving down 96th Avenue on a dark and foggy night when we happened upon a unfortunate man who managed to drive his truck into a ditch. I mean he really put it in a ditch. When we drove by, we could easily see the underside of the truck. We turned around and came back to see if we could help the guy out, because it was clear he wasn't going anywhere. It's really hard to pull someone out of a ditch when the wheels on opposite sides are making contact with the ground and the only tow-rope you can find could have doubled as a skipping rope.

His story; he was going to his brother's house for a party (more on that later) and took a wrong turn, so he figured he would turn around, simple enough. He even chose to turn around in a driveway that just so happened to be the best lit driveway in the neighbourhood. He pulls in only to slip into a three-foot deep trench on the roadside. He blamed his mis-step on the fog. Fair enough, shit happens.