The Sci-Fi Channel has announced it will be auctioning off hundreds of Battlestar Galactica props. So say we all!

You can head on down to Cali for a live auction on January 17th and 18th, or wait until the remainder hits eBay on the 20th. Plus, starting on the 23rd, there will be an online auction after each of the remaining BSG episodes.

You can buy Starbuck’s flight suit, Adama’s uniform, and even Caprica Six’s slinky red dress (no good for me, however…I haven’t been a size 4 in years). But for the true BSG fan, this has to be the holy grail:

A full-size frakkin’ viper! I don’t care how much it costs. I will live in that thing if I have to.

A full-list of props is available here. You can check it out if you want, but why bother? FULL-SIZE VIPER. That’s all you need to know.

Once again, the fine folks at the Canadian Blog Awards are running the only awards contest that matters. Well, matters to me and my fellow bloggers, anyway. I mean, I’d love to win an Oscar, but after my 1996 romantic epic “Palaces of Cheese at the End of Forever” received less than favourable reviews,  I’d say that ship has sailed.

Anyone can nominate a blog. Just go to the website, select the appropriate category, and enter your nomination into the comments field. It’s easy, and you’ll make a big difference to whatever long-suffering flack you nominate. Recognition is like oxygen to a blogger.

I’m testing a new feature on Nunc Scio- a ‘daily links’ section that highlights stories that, while interesting, may not deserve a full-on post. If you have any thoughts or ideas about this feature, please leave them in the comments.

Let’s see what’s on tap today:

• An Arizona jogger ran for a mile with a rabid fox biting her arm. Rupert Murdoch unavailable for comment.
• The demand for Scotch Whiskey in India, China and Russia is driving up prices here in Canada. I’m left to wonder how I’ll be snooty at parties without my reasonably-priced single malts.
• Stephen Colbert beats out McCain and Obama in the race for the White House.

• Now the recession is serious. The world’s largest Lamborghini dealership goes bust.
• At least one woman in Chicago tragically misapprehends the significance of the Obama victory.
• A new bike lock spatters thieves with paint if they cut it. Take that, losers! You may have my bike, but you’ll have to buy new pants!
• Apparently, stretchin before a workout or playing sports is actually a really bad idea.
• This toaster will burn the image of Darth Vader into your bread. I find your lack of marmalade disturbing.
• The Prime Minister of Italy just called Obama “young, handsome and tanned.” You stay classy, Silvio.

Got a link? Leave it in the comments.

Well, it’s the time of year again. The time when stalwart men the world over bravely sacrifice their appearance, their romantic relationships, and any chance of career advancement. They endure the ceaseless mocking  of their peers. It is the time of year when when men grow moustaches.

Yes, Movember has arrived.

For those of you who don’t know, Movember is a yearly charity event that raises money for Prostate Cancer research. How? The concept is fiendishly simple. Man X grows a moustache. Man X’s family and friends sponsor said moustache. Money is raised, celebrations are convened, and Man X looks like an idiot.

I was a proud participant of Movember last year, and I am very glad to be doing it again. Since my current moustache is in its delicate embryo phase, I will spare it the horrors of public exposure for now. Instead, here’s a pic of my ‘stache from 2007:

As it turns out, crazy eyes are a side effect of moustache growth. Starting next Monday, you can peep my new mo’ here at Nunc Scio.

Movember raises money for the Prostate Cancer Research Foundation of Canada, a group working hard to improve awareness of Prostate Cancer and support prevention, treatment and the search for a cure. Every year around 24,700 Canadian men are diagnosed with prostate cancer and about 4,300 die of the disease, making it the number one cancer threat to Canadian men. It also has some pretty serious personal significance for me. Prostate cancer has hit my family in a very serious way. And as a direct blood descendent of a Prostate Cancer survivor, there’s a good chance I will have my own tussle with the disease as I get older.

So, of you would like to support my moustache with a small donation, please go here. As an added bonus, you get to make fun of my moustache all month long. So long as you’ve donated, I will absorb your abuse with good-natured aplomb. Or, if you prefer, I’ll cry like a little girl. I’m here for you.

Please, donate if you are able. You can’t find two better causes to support: Prostate Cancer research, and Graeme looking like a moron.

I like that Toronto still has police officers on horseback. They look cool, children love them, and I really enjoy imagining them charging down a drug dealer with the William Tell Overture inexplicably playing in the background.

BUT…

This happens to me at least once a week. I’ll be riding along the Lakeshore bike path when something will invariably capture my attention. Like, “Oooh, look at that pretty bird,” or “Ontario Place sure smells like urine this morning,” or even, “Hey! That guy isn’t wearing any pants!” While my attention is temporarily elsewhere, I will invariably ride through a huge pile of horse dung. And I mean huge. Like the horse went out to a fancy restaurant and ate a lot of really rich and/or spicy food, and then had a profound moment of reckoning the next morning.

 So, there I am. An innocent cyclist just trying to get to work, suddenly forced to cope with a horse-poolooza of biblical proportions. I don’t know about your office, but when I show covered in a thin veneer of horse crap, people look at me funny.

I’m not sure what the solution is here. A special Police Auxilliary of Pooper-Scoopers? Horse diapers? Robot horses? All I know is that if you’re out on the Lakeshore, mind the path. There be dragons.

Photo courtesy of comicpie.