Silly Love Songs

One of the most infamous lines in pop lyricism is Dan Hill’s “Sometimes when we touch/the honesty’s too much”

An invitation to derision, to be sure.

In answer to this, and for no reason other than I’m bored, here is my homage (as the kids say) to this putrid piece of pathetic pseudo-poignancy…

Sometimes when I fart/I like to call it art

Sometimes when I walk/it’s just around the block

Sometimes when I drive/I drink a “Five Alive”

Sometimes when I eat/there’s nothing on my feet

Sometimes when I sleep/my dreams are very deep

Sometimes when I swim/I should be at the gym

Sometimes when I work/it’s fun to be a jerk

And I have to close my eyyyyyyes, and hide.

Levee's gonna break

Having just moved to Vancouver, and while we’re waiting to take possession of our newly purchased house, I’m bunking with my boss, an amazing man with a huge brain, a huge heart, and a really big TV.

Looking through his DVD collection the other day, I found Michael Moore’s “Sicko”. This is one of the most depressing films I’ve ever seen. You think America is screwed? Wrong. They’re not simply “screwed”, they are in total decline. We are actually witnessing, in our lifetime, the decline and fall of what was once the most powerful nation on earth. I’m not just basing this on a Michael Moore film, I’m basing it on cold hard fact.

Their economy is toast. They are mired in a war that is costing billions and billions of dollars. Their federal government is corrupt to the point that they can no longer even keep their own lies straight. Their media mouthpiece is one of the most well-funded television networks on the air, Fox. Their friends are “good Christian people”, everyone else is “evil” or “connected to terrorism”.

The United States government no longer has the power, nor the want, to protect the freedom that it is supposedly fighting and dying for. It is a tired, filthy, burned-out shell of a once great empire.

This is very surreal. For most of us, the collapse of nations and civilizations has always been limited to history books. We are now seeing it first hand.

For the longest time I was thrilled, still am really, to be alive at the dawn of the “Digital Age”. This, this is something else entirely, a fearsome specter that I would never have dreamt I would see in my lifetime.

Puff, daddy

I enjoy the occasional cigar, and by cigar I don’t mean one whose name begins with the words “Old Port” or “White Owl” – so when it came time to say farewell to one of my oldest friends, prior to moving from Ontario to B.C., we arranged to meet at one of our favourite haunts, Thomas Hinds Tobacconist in Toronto.

Thomas Hinds is probably the most famous cigar shop in Toronto, they boast a very large walk-in humidor, a selection of the very best cigars, and a very comfortable lounge in which to smoke them.

I arrived ahead of my friend, walked into the shop and upstairs, followed by one of the shopkeepers who would, as was customary, unlock the humidor so I could make my selection. Imagine my surprise however when I walked through what had been the smoking lounge and saw office furniture and cubicle dividers in place of the couches and wingback chairs that had always been there. “What happened to the lounge?” I inquired. “Government shut us down”. He obviously read my look of disbelief and added “end of an era”.

You can no longer smoke in a shop that caters only to smokers.

No one stumbles upon Thomas Hinds thinking it’s a restaurant, bar, library, grocery or convenience store. People – people who smoke cigars – are the only people who patronize Thomas Hinds. They know EXACTLY why they are there, and EXACTLY what to expect when they go there. They have no allusions about second-hand smoke, they are there to enjoy every last puff FIRST hand. They know it’s not healthy, they know the risks, but they choose to smoke cigars anyway. Choice is part of democracy, to get all grandiose on yer ass.

My friend had not yet arrived, so I chose a Romeo et Julietta (one of my favourites), paid and left.

I met my friend, we had dinner, and then I realized I’d left my cel phone in the shop. When I went back the clerk handed it over to me, and as we left I noticed the very distinct aroma of a freshly lit cigar wafting through the air.

So I breathed in as deeply as I could and left.

Got game

This past week the B.C. Department of Life-Sized Puppets unveiled their hideously cute official mascots of the 2010 Olympics. Of the 3, I can only recall the name of the third, “Sumi”.

I love this name, it sounds like a dare. I think we need more of this in Olympic sport. Enough with the political correctness, let’s put some ‘tude in these here games.

btw I STILL think “pie eating” should be an Olympic sport…

DUI (Driving Under Intelligently)

Sometimes it takes me a while to catch up on pop culture, so it’s been only
recently that I You-Tubed the months-old Paris Hilton humility-fest on Letterman.

This clip should be shown in college and university Media Studies classes, as an example of how the myth of celebrity is created and ultimately destroyed.

Some have accused David Letterman of being cruel, but in fact this was high satire. He wasn’t just poking fun at her, he wasn’t bullying her, he was merely using sarcasm to make the point that all of us, including Paris Hilton, are responsible for own actions, and that there is a price to pay – a lesson that I honestly don’t believe she’s learned. David Letterman merely held the bubble of celebrity privilege up to her face and pushed a pin into it.

Read into his question “did you know what you were in (jail) for?” Prior to being charged, tried and jailed Ms Hilton repeatedly played dumb about driving while intoxicated, driving while under licence suspension, driving while on probation, etc. Paris, if you act stupid then you will be treated as if you ARE stupid, you cannot have it both ways.

If this had been a Barbara Walters interview there would have been soft-focus crocodile tears, long pauses, re-assurances that we now live in a kinder, gentler world because Paris has suffered for our sins, moments of soul-feeding sisterhood, long walks through manicured gardens, blah blah blah blah blah. “Homecoming – the Paris Hilton you never knew, tonight on FOX following an all-new Shitbenders”.

But it wasn’t, it was Letterman, it was not her stage to set, it was his. To quote one of my favourite proverbs “you knew I was a snake when you picked me up”.

In a previous blog I held out hope that this icon of vacuous pop culture would live up to her pledge of selflessness once she left jail, and I meant it. Instead she went on Letterman to shill for her new perfume. Without so much as lifting the cap off the bottle I can tell you that it reeks of social conscience rotting from the inside out.

I bear no personal malice towards Paris Hilton, honestly I could care less about her life, it has no bearing on my own. So why write anything? Because I DO care about this long dark tunnel of stupidity that so much of western culture seems to be crawling down on its hands and knees, hoping that the next celebrity disaster will momentarily illuminate its personal darkness.

The Letterman interview was a cultural landmark, evidence that yes, there are those of us who will not allow our intelligence to be insulted, will not be led like doomed livestock into the darkness of that tunnel.

Saints and sinners

A couple of weeks ago the front page of the National Post featured a large photo of the late Mother Teresa, topped with the headline “I HAVE NO FAITH”.

This headline is of course far removed from it’s original context and sensationalized to sell papers (oooo, Lindsay, Britney, Ma Teresa). Recently a collection of her letters, sent to a confidante, were discovered, letters she’d requested destroyed upon her death. The letters, some dating back 40 years, indicated that this saintly woman had, on several occasions, faced a dire crisis of faith.

Personally I find these revelations to be a more comforting version of faith than had she been steadfast in her convictions. Mother Teresa was a human being, certainly a more compassionate and dedicated human being than I and maybe you, but a human being all the same, one who wore the flaws and the bonds of original creation. She was not perfect, and I find this reassuring because none of us are. She worked amongst the poorest of the poor, the sickest of the sick, people with no hope in a city that could pass for hell. And she experienced a lapse of faith? Who’d have thought! Slacker.

Whether you believe him to have been the messiah (Christianity), a prophet (Judaism) or just a mortal man, it’s well documented that Jesus Christ underwent a major crisis of faith on the eve of his crucifixion. I think we can cut soon-to-be-a Saint Mother Theresa some slack here folks.

MMMMmmmm, mouse head

I love my cats, all 3 of them, but when I found the bloodied severed head of a mouse in my home studio the other morning, I can’t say that warm and fuzzy kitty love was what I was feeling. More like that confused early morning “WTF is THAT” kind of disgust.

yeesh…

She works hard for the money...

Wow, some woman just got off the train dressed like a bleached-blonde hooker. I can’t tell if she’s coming FROM work or going TO work.

Angels and Demons revisited

Well, I finished reading Dan Brown’s “Angels and Demons” and I have to take back some of my earlier remarks to the effect that it was little more than an early “draft” of “The DaVinci Code”.

I loved this book, in fact I enjoyed it much more than “The DaVinci Code”. It was more intense, the symbology was deeper, and it was just a great read.

Btw it’s currently in production for a major film release. Since the books lead character is the same Robert Langdon from “The DaVinci Code” I fear that the movie lead will again be Tom Hanks, to which I can only say uurrrgghhhhhhh!!!!

aarrrrgghhhhh

If you are a resident of Ontario I REALLY hope you can see through the thinly-veiled Liberal party’s latest attempt at vote-bribery aka the “proposed” February statutory holiday.

Seriously, can you really trust a party that, for the past 4 years, has lied to you, taken more than their share of your hard earned dollars in order to cover their f**kups, raised taxes, made YOU pay TWICE for the same health care you used to only pay ONCE for, given themselves a 25% salary increase, and started their Summer vacation 3 weeks early because, in Dalton McGinty’s words “our business was finished, we’d fulfilled our mandate” - and then has the gall to suggest that “everything will be wonderful because we’ll give you (angelic harps) A DAY OFF”!!!

WTF IS THAT?????????????????

If you were an employer and the Liberal Party of Ontario were an employee, would you not fire them? I would. They lied on their resume, they dipped into the till, then they blackmailed you for a pay raise and an extra 3 weeks of vacation.

Well, surprise surprise, they ARE an employee, and WE ARE their employers – and that’s the beauty of democracy, we CAN fire them.

Dalton, stop insulting our intelligence, we’re neither fooled nor amused.

A mean feat

I have to admit that I’ve never understood the motivation behind the act of being mean to people. Seriously, being mean is a malicious action that requires effort, and there’s neither goodwill nor personal satisfaction involved. I’m not a psychologist but I’m convinced that meanness, like most forms of emotionally “acting out”, stems from insecurity. Meanness especially is some sort of pre-emptive strike ie if I lash out at your for no apparent reason then I am untouchable and therefore cannot be hurt myself. This borders on sociopathic or psychopathic behaviour, which is to say a destructive act without conscience and therefore without remorse.

The next time you read something that fits into the description above, consider the source.

Hot Fuzz...and not so hot...

“Hot Fuzz” is EASILY the funniest movie I’ve seen in the better part of a year. DAMN it was funny. Clever, clever writing, great comic acting and direction, and that all-important quality that can make or break a comedy – impeccable timing.

“Black Snake Moan” on the other hand is the biggest mess of a movie I’ve seen in the better part of a year. This train wreck had no idea where it was going, and took most of 2 hours to not get there. Yeeeeesh.

Like a David Lynch movie, without the movie part…

The other day I was walking up our street and there on someone’s front lawn was a squirrel’s tail without a squirrel attached to it.

How the hell does that THAT happen?

So I turns to the little lady and I says “the neighbourhood’s goin’ ta shit, I tells ya”.

“Hello Cleveland”

In a couple of months time I’m headed to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland with 3 friends who have never been (I was there last Fall). This is meant as a “male bonding” type weekend, to celebrate the November wedding of one of these friends.

I don’t normally like the institutionalization of things that are meant to be anti-institution (like rock and roll) but hell, it’s just a cool place. If I can spend a day looking at Jerry Garcia’s guitars, John Lennon’s handwritten lyrics, and film clips of the greatest performers who ever lived, then it’s a good day.

Angels and demons and paintings, oh my...

I’ve started reading Dan Brown’s “Angels and Demons”, the predecessor to “The DaVinci Code”, which I finished reading a couple of weeks back (I know, I know – I’ve also yet to see Star Wars so shut up…)

So far “Angels and Demons” is SO strikingly similar to “The DaVinci Code” that it’s a bit shameful. Dan Brown has written the same book twice, the difference being that the one about the Holy Grail sold a lot more than the one about the Illuminati. Perhaps if Monty Python regroups and does a film and a musical about the Illuminati, Dan Brown’s “Angels and Demons” will also hit the bestseller list. Personally I’d pay to see a musical about the Illuminati, although I suppose Mozart pretty much covered that one with “The Magic Flute”.

Bastard, I, like, hate you Mozart.

8 weeks and counting

Soon to be ex-Premier of Ontario Dalton McGuinty is spending millions of our dollars that he doesn’t own, to buy votes. But, uhm, you’ll recall last election he did the same thing and then, once in office, said he was just kidding (or something like that).

I think that one year prior to elections all candidates and their families should have to move into a very average house, have their income reduced to that of the average Canadian, lose all their “perks”, and then make do. Seriously, this is the ONLY way they’ll get a taste of the reality we all live with, and this is the ONLY way they’ll understand that in order to make ends meet you have to budget for food, mortgage and car payments, education, health care, home maintenance, taxes, etc etc etc.

Dalton McGuinty has all the economic prowess of a Neanderthal with a Ouija board and a fistful of Canadian Tire money.

Wipe this

To quote Charles Manson “Is it me, or has the world gone crazy?”

Actually I made that up, but best to admit my transgressions before Oprah nails me in a primetime web of lies.

Anyway today’s crazy story comes from some Hollywood sphincter pilot of an actor whose name means nothing to me. Mr Famous Person insists he will not date any woman who does not wipe her ass with moistened tissues, insisting that if she uses dry paper she’s not really clean.

Let’s all say it together – misogynistic controlling future abuser.

Truthfully I don’t know which is more alarming – that he admitted this publicly, or that it made print, albeit on dry paper…

Yogi Berra lives

Last night I was watching a Blue Jays/Kansas City Royals game when the colour commentator remarked that Jays pitcher Jesse Litsch “has a lot of compassion for the game”.

Jesse Litsch feels sorry for baseball? Wow, I guess the game really IS suffering…or maybe you meant “PASSION for the game”

I fear the world is becoming clogged with unnecessary chatter

Discuss

(HA!)

Urrrggghhhhhh

Recently I read that the Ontario Liberal Member of Provincial Parliament for Hamilton east/Stoney Creek served her entire 4 year elected term without actually living in her own riding. Fact is she’s NEVER lived in Stoney Creek, rather she was parachuted in to secure yet another seat for the Liberals.

This practice HAS to be banned. You cannot manage your household without living in your house.

Yet another way the Ontario Liberals are abandoning their constituents in an arrogant show of power.

Misread

This headline graced the front page of last Sunday’s Toronto Star;

MEXICAN REFUGEE REQUESTS SKYROCKET

I would have thought food and shelter would have been a priority, but there ya go.

A couple 'o' movies

I watched a couple of films last weekend, “Zodiac” and “Bobby”, the former about the infamous California serial killer, the latter a fictionalized account of the events leading up to Robert Kennedy’s assassination.

I was hoping to like “Zodiac” and expecting to dislike “Bobby”, but the opposite was true.

“Zodiac” was boggggggged dowwwwwnnnnn innnnn unnnnnecesssarrry deeeeetaaailllllll. Holy shit, did you guys lose the password to your editing app.? Based on the Robert Graysmith book of the same name, this film became more about his obsession with meeting the Zodiac killer than about the case itself, which underlines Hollywoods greatest failings of late – it’s not necessary to dramatize something that already has drama; and if you’re going to create an obsessive character at least make the character interesting, because obsession in and of itself really isn’t that attractive, it’s just a human flaw. The greatest unanswered question in films that center on an obsessed figure is “why”? Rule #1 in character writing; give the character a background, otherwise they’re one-dimensional.

Too bad, given that the Zodiac is (a) an unsolved case (b) has been out of the spotlight for almost 20 years, and (c) is entirely unknown to a current movie-going generation, this could have been a really great film.

“Bobby” on the other hand was a collage of personal vignettes about people whose lives would become forever entwined in the assassination June 5th 1968 at L.A.’s Ambassador Hotel. While the first two thirds of the film frequently indulged in sickly sweet sentimentality interspersed with brilliantly written monologue and acting (like watching Shakespeare directed by Steven Spielberg – no matter how hard the director attempts to smother it, the writing occasionally shines through), the film redeemed itself with the actual assassination scenes and the ensuing fallout.

The most interesting aspect of “Bobby” was it’s use of these seemingly “background” characters as metaphors for the personalities and issues that haunted Robert Kennedy’s life – which made it a lot more interesting than simply having actors portraying their real-life counterparts.

Pass me that garden hose, would ya...

Like everyone I get my share of SPAM. My favourite subject line hit the “inbox” today:

“TRY COLON CLEANSING AT HOME”

No, thanks anyway.

Ouch

This past weekend I cut into the tip of my left index finger with a power saw. Fortunately it’s not a deep cut, but it scared the hell out of me. Oddly my first thought was “how is this going to affect my guitar playing?”. Funny how our minds work, huh?

Lights Out

A few weeks back I was driving to work in the early morning dark. About halfway to Toronto I noticed a newer office building (the highway is jammed with them) that was lit up like a Christmas tree. Just then it struck me why this building caught my attention – because all the other buildings WEREN’T lit up. This a big change from just 5 years ago when every office park along the Queen Elizabeth Highway was fully lit, day and night. I don’t know if this shift away from wasteful electricity use is a post-blackout reaction (south eastern Ontario suffered a massive blackout 4 years ago) or a more enlightened (pardon the pun) attitude towards energy usage, but it’s pretty darned encouraging.

Charlie Hustle

I think Pete Rose belongs in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Discuss.

Spin Cycle

I hate the term “spin”, as in to “put a spin on something”. In this context “spin” is another word for “lie” – which actually makes the term “spin” a spin in itself. Follow me? Good.

Spin is the assumption on the part of the spinner that if they put a sugar candy coating on an unpleasant truth that we will swallow it without question. Have you ever held a coated aspirin on your tongue long enough for the coating to dissolve? Guess what – tastes like aspirin. Uggh.

Spin is patronizing, insulting, filthy, dishonest and a gutless substitute for “balls” (pardon the unintentional sexism). Personally speaking the wages of spin is that I barely take anything I read at face value anymore.

This tirade stems from the most recent suggestion, by those who supply water to the Greater Toronto Area, that the pricing of water should be based on the same template as the pricing of electricity i.e. the price for water should be set daily, even hourly, as the demand for water fluctuates. If it’s a hot day and folks are using a lot of water, the price goes up. If it’s a cool day and the demand isn’t as high, the price goes down – just like electricity.

Here’s the spin – “this will make people more conscious of their water usage and therefore they’ll learn to conserve water”.

BULLSHIT

No supplier of ANYTHING has EVER given a shit about conserving ANYTHING, save for profits. I cannot in my sickest imagination see the suppliers of water patting themselves on the back for SELLING LESS WATER.

Here’s problem #2 with this spin – water is not and should never be seen as a commodity. Unfortunately we’re increasingly seeing the commercialization of water. We have slowly but surely grown accustomed to water as a product through the sale of bottled water, the “spin” being that tap water is unsafe. Really? That’s pretty fucked up, I brush my teeth with it every single day, I wash my hands in it several times a day, I bath in it, I give it to my cats, sometimes I even (???) DRINK IT. I’ve engaged in this relationship with tap water since 1959, and my only problem is that I piss a lot when I’ve had too much. Soooo the water that’s coming from today’s municipal purification systems, which I’ll assume are more “state of the art” than the ones from 1959, is not as good as the water I drank all through my childhood (pre-bottled water)? Wow – f*** me.

Water is the essence of all living things. We NEED water in order to stay alive. No water, no life. No water, no planet. To base the pricing of water on “market value” is as ludicrous as charging for air. That said we, all of us, bear the responsibility of conserving water – but this should not be mandated via price fixing, it should be mandated by common sense, which I’m still optimistic most people have.

Stop using automated lawn irrigation systems, don’t flush your toilet until it’s necessary, etc etc etc – water conservation tips are just a Google away.

You really want to f*** with the spinners? Stop buying bottled water, reduce demand all on your own, buy a Brita water jug, or a tap filter.

Refuse to let water become the new oil or electricity.

Don’t accept lies from profiteers.

I can do it, they can help

I’ve developed an altogether unhealthy relationship with Home Depot – co-dependent would best describe it.

Sometimes I just wander up and down those double-wide aisles marveling at all that humankind has created in order to make our homes and our lives infinitely beautiful. Other times, like today, I buy stuff. Today I bought more pressure treated wood for some deck repairs I’m doing, and a Dewalt compound miter saw that came with a bonus 18 volt cordless drill – and it was all 20% off.

The whole shootin’ match came to $400, but I gladly, nay excitedly handed over my debit card, punched in those numbers, and headed home, secure in the knowledge that, like a lifelong companion, Home Depot will always be there to help me fulfill my homiest handiest manliest potential.

Stranger Than Fiction

I recently watched a movie called “Death of a President”, a “fictional documentary” about the assassination of George W. Bush in Chicago. It was REALLY well done, but obviously REALLY controversial. Critics claimed…

(a) it was in bad taste
(b) it would “inspire” copycat killers to assassinate GWB
(c) it was “un-American”

This reminded me of the bruhaha surrounding the original “Manchurian Candidate” (starring Frank Sinatra). Depending on who’s answering the question, the film was pulled from theatres before/after the JFK assassination because…

(a) it was deemed in bad taste
(b) it “inspired” Lee Harvey Oswald to assassinate JFK
(c) it was considered “un-American”

Actually one of the most plausible reasons it was pulled was that the studio was losing money on it, probably attributable to all of the above. Even in 1962 it’s doubtful that a Hollywood film studio would pull its product from the shelf because of an attack of conscience.

So, in other words, the truth was fictionalized and spun back to us.

Funny thing about truth, the expectation is that it’s to be believed coming from some mouths, but not others.

Anyway, back to “Death of a President” and the spinning thereof. One of its most vocal critics was Hilary Clinton who called it “despicable” although she hadn’t seen it. OK, I get it, no political figure will EVER endorse a film that portrays a political assassination, but here’s the point; it’s FICTION. If someone really plans on whacking Bush they don’t need a film to convince them. I doubt that a died-in-the-wool psycho killer is going to tell himself “I THINK I wanna do this but I’d better go see a movie first, just to be sure”.

That said, “Death of a President” definitely has a high “creepy” factor, and it’s a really uncomfortable film to watch. As much as I loathe GWB I don’t want the man dead, I just want him out of politics. Be that as it may however, one of the scariest aspects to consider is that once Bush is gone, VP Dick Cheney is in charge. Bush is just dumb, but Cheney is f***ing evil.

Fate

In February of 2003 I was vacationing in Costa Rica where access to world news is scarce, so I didn’t hear of the Columbia shuttle disaster until I’d returned home. Even then I heard few details of this tragedy. It was only last night, during a documentary called “Falling Star”, that I got the full story, the gist of which is that the shuttle Columbia was doomed from liftoff. I still have trouble grasping that – 7 astronauts and scientists orbited the earth in a death ship for 16 days, innocently carrying out experiments whilst adrift in the infinite beauty and wonder of outer space.

When the shuttle launched a piece of foam insulation the size of a briefcase flew off the front of the craft and hit the left wing at 500 miles per hour, creating a hole 16 inches in diameter. No one aboard the shuttle or on the ground knew about the hole. On re-entering the earth’s atmosphere the left wing was breached by fiery heat (4000 Celsius). The inner frame of the wing melted, the wing disintegrated and the ship exploded into a fireball which then fell to earth.

I think most folks would admit to wanting a glimpse into their future. I dunno – if faced with such a catastrophic finality I think I’d prefer the bliss of ignorance.

I am a moving target

I have a sign on my forehead that only drunk people can see. It says “if you are drunk, talk to me”.

Case in point: a few years ago I was watching A Perfect Circle (the side project of Tool frontman Maynard Keenan) at a Toronto venue called The Warehouse. Mid-show a really, REALLY drunk guy came over and shouted above the din “Maynard is Satan, y’know – he’s come here to show us the truth”. Such eloquence, I thought as I tried to will his spittle from the front of my shirt, Kreskin- style.

I mentally constructed several arguments to counter his point, but then thought better of “mud wrestling with a pig” (to paraphrase Dr Phil, or maybe Satan himself) and besides, he might’ve just puked on my shoes.

Uniforms

Being 48 I’m usually one of the oldest people at concerts – well, the kinds of concerts that my kids, if I had any, would be going to. For this reason I tend to make observations that are as anthropological as musical. For example, at last Monday night’s Tool show the uniform of choice was a black t-shirt, LOTS of tattoos, and a scowl. Hey kids, lighten up, you got a ticket. Seriously though, at what point does the need to express individuality intersect with conformity? (BUZZER) Answer: at a rock concert. When everyone looks tough, no one is tough; when everyone has an attitude, no one has an attitude; when everyone is sneering they might as well be naked and grinning. Tribal? Not a chance.

I don’t care one way or another, really – but if you want to express yourself outwardly then do something different.

I always admired Alice Coopers’ habit of defying trends, earlier in his life and career anyway. In high school when everyone else grew their hair long Alice cut his short. When everyone else wore jeans and t-shirts to school, Alice wore a tie and a jacket. And when he grew up to be a ghoul Alice defiantly proclaimed that he “drove a stake through the heart of the love generation”.

You go, girl.

Phony bill

I was in New York city a couple of weekends back, working, and learned a really valuable life lesson. Never make long distance calls from the hotel room telephone. Sadly my Tonka Toys cel phone was technologically crippled south of the 49th parallel, so I had little choice. Ironically ALL of the calls were to the cel phones of my co-workers who were ALSO in New York that weekend.

My hotel phone bill was $350.00 U.S.

I’ll repeat that figure in case you want to write it down - $350.00 U.S.

This was for approx 20 phone calls, most of which were less than 60 seconds.

This life lesson brought to you by my dumb ass. You’re welcome.

I heart Jetblue

My love affair with Jetblue continues. Recently I was returning from New York just following the London and Glasgow terrorist attacks. I mention this only because it meant getting to JFK airport in lots of time to go through security, which actually didn’t take that long. With about 90 minutes to kill I discovered that Jetblue, which totally occupies terminal 6 at JFK, had set up the whole place for FREE Wi-Fi !!! (most airports charge for this). Not only that, there was a large seating area equipped with electrical outlets for those of us with limited battery power. I love you Jetblue, I want to bear your children.

Btw I’ve discovered the best place to sit on a plane, although it’s not for everyone – the back. True, the seats don’t recline fully, but the odds of having no one around you are pretty good because most people don’t like sitting at the back. So when that big ‘ol aluminum bird soars high above the clouds, I can stretch out, put stuff in the seats beside me, and go to the washroom without contorting myself to get past other passengers.

And besides, when the plane nosedives into the side of a mountain, I’ll die last.

Losin' it

Things I’ve lost on the GO train, some as recently as yesterday morning;

- a cel phone

- a watch

- a hardcover Stephen King novel (“Bag of Bones”, in case you spot it)

- 2 laptop batteries (@ $200 each)

- many, many baseball caps

- 2 pairs of shoes

- at least one toque, probably more

This isn’t normal, and I can’t explain it. Urrrgggghhhh.

Life is strange

A couple of weekends back I was watching a documentary on primordial dwarfs. Unlike midgets or dwarfism as we know it, primordial dwarfs BARELY develop beyond the physical stature of their early life – so a primordial dwarf who is 40 looks like a child of 4 years. This is just heartbreaking to see. One of the subjects, an adult woman, described the loneliness and isolation of being waist high to most people her age. As if her condition weren’t enough the one part of her physiology that HAD fully developed was her front teeth, which protruded over her lower lip, permanently. This, combined with severely underdeveloped vocal cords, made sub-titles a necessary accompaniment to her spoken words.

Sadly primordial dwarves are seen by most as oddities, which is understandable as we all have a natural curiosity for the incomprehensible. Fact is there are only
60 of them in the entire world.

So where do we, as relatively healthy adults, fit into the grand scheme of things? This has always bothered me, “handicap and equality” as singer Peter Hamill puts it. Simply stated, why them and not us?

Don’t know.

Live Earth

I watched a good chunk of yesterday’s Live Earth broadcast. It was as good an excuse as any to further ignore the many home projects I’ve been so good at ignoring up until now. Seriously though this was a great broadcast in support of an even greater cause. The best part of course is that it’s not too late, and all any of us has to do is make a few small changes to reverse the cycle of damage that’s been accumulating since the 1950’s.

Interestingly the term that seems to rankle critics of environmental change is “global warming”. That one phrase is a Pavlovian cue to open the floodgates for right-wingers who assert that what we’re experiencing is merely cyclical, that this is the normal course of the earth’s climate and that any other reaction is an over-reaction.

Well, given that the last similar “cyclical” change was the end of the ice age, I think there may be cause for concern.

So let’s simplify the situation for those who require simplification. Substitute the words “global warming” with “pollution”. OK, now who in any part of this “civilized” world can deny the existence of pollution? Are the skies SUPPOSED to be filled with gray smoke? Is the ground SUPPOSED to be littered with garbage? Was all of this pollution here before us, or did we create it? What kind of animal shits where it sleeps?

Is there any harm in cleaning up our mess, or do we prefer to live this way?

If you don’t believe in global warming then simply believe in pollution - then start cleaning up after yourself.

Live Earth pt II

I honestly believe that our penchant for polluting is that we’ve completely lost our connection to the earth. No connection, no respect, no earth. We need look no further than the first inhabitants of North America, the aboriginal people, for some very simple lessons. To most tribes the earth was sacred, a gift from the Creator. The earth provided food and shelter and sustenance. What was taken was to be given back. It was not treated as disposable, as though once we’d used up this earth we could just move on to the next one. Do some reading on the Lipan Apache – some pretty interesting lessons from people who relied solely on the earth, and so learned to co-exist with it rather than destroying it.

Earth is not a convenience store. Once the air is filled with Co2 it’s gone. Once the water is undrinkable there’s no more. Think on this for a second – why are we all drinking bottled water? Was there not a time in recent history where we trusted what came out of the tap? Well much to the delight of bottled water producers we no longer trust anything that doesn’t come from a plastic bottle – except that the plastic bottle itself is now the problem, and we have been “trained” that the very essence of life itself, water, is a commercial commodity.

Earth is not a fast food outlet. The greatest thieves of the planet’s natural resources are corporations like McDonald’s. They wantonly plow down entire forests so that they can speed-raise cattle for hamburgers – then they process the hell out of the meat and sell it to us with a clown and a toy. How f**king perverse is THAT???!!! Poison the earth AND it’s people.

Earth is not a gas pump. I will point the finger just as readily as the next person at Exxon et al, yet supply and demand dictates that if we take Hummers and every other gas-guzzling monster off the road then Exxon et al will have no choice but to adapt and start offering alternative, cleaner sources of fuel.

We can no longer rely on governments to fix what’s broken, we can only rely on ourselves. We own this earth, we have to affect change.

Raining cats and dogs, but not money

We took all 3 of our cats to the vets yesterday for summary poking, prodding and shots. If you think a cat is incapable of facial expression, just watch one while a vet is grabbing at the former home of their genitals.

Anyway $528 later almost all is fine (our already slim Calico is down a few pounds from a year ago, which is cause for concern).

I love these animals like family, but MAN vets ain’t cheap. The last time we were in they discovered one of our cats had chipped a tooth and offered to remove it – for $800. I wouldn’t pay $800 to have MY OWN tooth removed, it’s neither life-threatening nor discomforting.

At any rate we have a great vet, she truly loves animals, but the costs make a great case for pet health insurance.

Car buyin'

I bought a new car yesterday (wheeeeeee!!!!), a Honda Fit, which is a slightly smaller version of a Toyota Matrix. Due to seats that literally fold inside-out this thing has a HUGE amount of interior space (eg I can fit 2 adult bicycles behind the front seats and still have room for stuff in the back). It’s no candidate for the Grand Prix, but it handles nicely and is REALLY good on gas. (sidebar: if we’re to be more enviro-conscious, which I am, why are hybrids so prohibitively expensive???)

At any rate my point is that in the 6 years since I’ve purchased a new car, a period during which consumers have become more educated as to the inner workings of the auto retail industry and it’s elaborate if not sometimes deceptive pricing tactics, why do car dealers STILL not get it?

As I always do I researched the Fit and it’s various trim lines and retail pricing in advance. I knew I wanted it, all I had to do was test drive it and do the paperwork. However, as I always do, I went in and played dumb so that the salesperson would have to do his/her job. Hey, if I’m handing over that much money someone’s gonna have to work for it.

When I showed up at the dealership the “wheel of salespeople” dealt me a younger guy we’ll call X, an affable sort with too much energy and the ability to talk out of both sides of his mouth while appearing to speak from the middle. X was old-school in a younger incarnation. He enthusiastically showed me the car inside and out (which I appreciated), took me out for a test drive (which is why I was there) and then started in with the numbers mind game (which I despise).

I’ll spare you the details but here are the highlights;

Him Trade in?
Me Yes?
Him WOW, I wish MY car was this clean, how much do you want for it?
Me Make me an offer.
Him (suddenly cautious) Oooo, lots of miles, and some dents and scrapes, gonna cost us a lot to fix it up and re-sell it
Me (thought balloon: “I don’t really give a f**k”, do you want it or not”)
Me (silence)
Him Let me see what we can do for you (disappears)

The disappearing act is the car salespersons greatest weapon, because it interrupts the buyers momentum and causes them to think up defense strategies for situations that don’t yet exist ie it creates confusion in the buyers mind.

The trade-in was actually what I expected I’d get, and the price (with the generous Honda fuel-efficiency cash-back incentive) was better than I thought, but who am I to leave a good thing be.

Me That looks good, can you throw in some accessories?

Him (slightly indignant) You know, with this cash-back incentive on a car that’s priced this low to begin with, when people ask us to throw in accessories we usually show them the door.

Me (thought balloon: guess what pal? With that single statement you’ve just guaranteed that I will never ever buy a car from you again)

Me (silence)

Him The dealership only makes a 900 dollar profit on these cars.

Me (silence)

Him What accessories do you want?

Me Just a hood deflector.

Him I’ll ask my Sales Manager (disappears)

Remember the “man behind the curtain” in the Wizard Of Oz? That’s the Sales
Manager.

Him (returning) Congratulations John, you’ve got yourself a deal. (quietly as an aside) They wanted you to split the cost of the hood deflector but I told them to take a hike.

My hero.

Then it was off to see the Office Manager. I’ve purchased enough cars to know
that her job was to sell me extras that I don’t need. She enthusiastically offered
me a anti-corrosion package ($1,300) and an extended warranty ($1,200). I
declined and we were no longer friends.

I’ve gone on at length but here’s how this 2 hour process SHOULD have gone;

Me I want the car

Him Here’s how much, and we’ll give you this much for your trade-in

Me Sounds good

Him Do you want corrosion protection or an extended warranty?

Me No, thanks. Here’s a cheque.

Him Sign here, congratulations, here’s your new car.

Me Thanks.

In the end I got what I wanted, a new car at a great price, and a little value-added. But did it have to be so painful, doctor?

You're soaking in it...

Most people recognize this as the symbol for “danger: corrosive materials”. What most don’t know is that I was the hand model for this symbol – or at least I could pass for that now, having spent the weekend with my hands immersed in liquid cleaners displaying this symbol.

Was I wearing rubber gloves? HA! Rubber gloves are for wusses and proctologists (sidebar: why would anyone WANT to be a proctologist??? Failed med school? Here, put on these gloves and this noseclip. Actually I wonder how many proctologists close their eyes when they’re doing an exam? It’s not like you’d know, laying prone on those crinkly paper sheets, hoping for a quick end, pardon the pun).

Anyway I probably should heed those well-intentioned warning labels, cuz now my right hand looks “The Scale”, who would have easily made the cut had “The Fantastic 4” loosened their entrance requirements to become “The Flawed 5”.

For the benefit of folks like me who neither pay attention to labels or read operating manuals (ohhhh, I plug it in FIRST, nowwwww I understand) I propose a more aggressive approach to these labels. From this point on the label for corrosive materials should feature a skeletal hand followed by a couple copulating followed by a duncecap, the message being “danger: corrosive materials, you f**king idiot”. The symbol for “danger: explosive materials” should be followed by a graphic representation of an sphincter (danger: explosive materials, asshole); and the sign for “radioactive materials” should be followed by this;

R – lamb – copulating couple – cashews-?-running stick figure-satan

(are you f**king nuts – run like hell)

Btw I’m fine with the signs they put on cigarette packs, I get it.

Zune?

Wow, that Microsoft Zune multimedia player thingy just took off, huh?

Has anyone ever actually seen one of these things live and in person?

One for the time capsule, Mistah Gates...

My 5

I’m not a fan of the “My 5” tv spots. Sure, nice phone feature I guess, but maddeningly inane commercials that rate REALLY high on the “whogivesafuckometer”.

That said, in keeping with the concept, here’s a hypothetical list of “My 5”s that I’D have if I were using something more sophisticated than the Tonka Toys “Fake-a-call” phone that I have.

“My 5” Christian Deities
Father
Son
Holy Ghost
With room left over for 2 apostles


“My 5” Deceased New York Punk Rockers
Joey Ramone (cancer)
Johnny Ramone (cancer)
Dee Dee Ramone (drugs)
Johnny Thunders (drugs)
Arthur “Killer” Kane (cancer)
*trivia note: there are enough dead guys between these 2 bands to make up an entire OTHER band


“My 5” Degenerate Ball Players
Darryl Strawberry (coke head)
Bill “The Spaceman” Lee (acid head)
Ty Cobb (racist asshole)
Pete Rose (gambling junkie – although he still belongs in the Hall of Fame)
Barry Bonds (arrogant dickweed)


“My 5” Social Misfits
Vlad The Impaler
Rasputin
G.W. Bush
Pol Pot
Jenna Hammyhocks, former star of little known Canadian television series “The Littlest Blow ‘ho”


“My 5” Rock stars who died by “misadventure”
Jimi Hendrix (choked on his own vomit)
Cass Elliot (chocked on a sandwich)
“Electric” Les Harvey (electrocuted on stage)
Mark Bolan (parked his Austin Mini in a tree)
Maurice Gibb (weird twisted intestinal thing - ugh)


“My 5” Jazz Musicians Who Died of a Drug Overdose
Mmm, might need a “My 500” for this one…


“My 5” honest Members of Provincial Parliament






“My 5” Crackers
Triscuit
Ritz
Wheat Thins
Kid Rock
Saltine


“My 5” tools
Robertson screwdriver
Ratchet wrench
Nutdriver
Ball Buster (I made this up)
Alcohol

Yup, HER

I usually give people the benefit of the doubt, for better or for worse. For that reason I’m inclined to believe Paris Hilton when she says that incarceration has changed her, and that she will now commit herself to helping those who need it.

Is this a ploy? It doesn’t matter, the judge who sent her back to the big house was resolute in his sentencing. True, for every four days she behaves like a model prisoner she’ll have a day knocked off her sentence, but that’s true of all L.A. County inmates.

Like the rest of you I don’t know Paris Hilton personally, and I have no interest whatsoever in her lifestyle, her celebrity, or the “cult of personality” of which she is reigning princess. But if someone with the ways and means sincerely offers to make the world a better place then what the hell, why not.

Unfortunately if she chooses to visit the starving and AIDS-stricken in Africa it will become a media circus, and she will draw untold numbers of detractors who will volley forth the battle cry “she’s just another rich kid looking for a photo op”. Well folks, would you prefer we send POOR people to Africa to help out? Africa has enough of their own, thanks.

I admire people who have the power to affect change and go about it in a truly sincere manner, without the need for publicity. I don’t know if he still does it but years ago Bruce Springsteen, the “Father Theresa” of rock and roll, used to quietly show up at the local food bank and help unload trucks – whereas Bono needs a tv crew and a fanfare, and expects world leaders to drop what they’re doing because he is IMPORTANT. Bono, the CAUSES are important, you're just kind of a dork.

In the end it’s about doing things for the right reasons. Paris, this is your chance to make a real change – good luck.

Intel shmintel

I don’t get the new Intel Core 2 Duo tv commercials, the ones featuring young beautiful people dancing around and multiplying themselves. Oh, I understand the metaphor – Intel Core 2 Duo allows you to run several applications at once, therefore you can “multiply” your efforts, effectively “cloning” yourself – but these tv spots don’t make me want to buy the product, and I think the the aim of advertising is to make me want to buy something.

By comparison the Mac tv spots DO make me want to buy their products. Mind you I’m EXTREMELY biased since I’ve been using Mac products since 1993, but that aside these spots cleverly illustrate the benefits of Mac over PC computers.

Both the Mac and the Intel commercials work very hard at exploiting a visual medium without resorting to the tedium of description. However the Mac spots succeed by presenting a 30 second one act comedic play, the moral of which is that Mac is the uncomplicated, uncompromising choice; whereas the Intel spots fail because they rely on interpretive dance to deliver a message about an advanced computer processor. Seriously, am I going to buy anything based on interpretive dance, other than interpretive dance lessons or perhaps ballet tickets? D-is-co-nn-ec-t.

In the end it’s about relating – if I can’t relate I won’t buy.

Apocalypto

Last night we watched Mel Gibson’s latest production “Apocalypto”. I have some major misgivings about this film. Its saving grace is the stunning cinematography and the set design. However this doesn’t make up for it’s myopic view of the Mayan race.

In the film’s early sequences we get a Spielberg-like treatment of a day in the life of Mayan tribesmen and their families. This includes mucho practical joking followed by feasting and then a campfire life-lesson from a tribal leader. Truthfully the sage parable was the only meaningful thing I took away from this film.

The rest of the film is an extended cliché, a car chase without the cars. At daybreak vicious Mayan warriors from another tribe raid the village. They kill, they rape, they pillage, they burn, they capture. Their leader is strong but pragmatic. One captor is a sadistic prick. Our hero sees his friends die, our hero gets mad, our hero overcomes his fears, escapes his captors, inventively kills off his pursuers, and in profound fashion discovers that there is an even larger threat to his family and his race.

Mel, it’s all in the history books. You’ve focused your efforts on the savage in fighting that partially contributed to the destruction of the Mayan race of that period (the Mayan race still exists today). What you’ve completely neglected is their innovative contributions to modern day society, instead reducing the Mayan tribes to ignorant, superstitious brutes.

(If you’re interested in their contributions and extensively developed civilization check out…)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_civilization

Or is this a metaphor for America, or perhaps all of mankind, Mel? That we’ll self-destruct if we don’t start getting along with each other? Mel? MEL???

Too bad, this could have been a great film.

Pan's Labyrinth

Last night we watched Pan’s Labyrinth, a movie I’d wanted to see for quite some time.

What an incredibly beautiful view of life and the afterlife, the dichotomies of heaven and hell, paganism (earth as life giver), and the consequences of blind acceptance vs. the rewards of moral fortitude.

No such thing as good ole days

This is not a reminiscence or a “those were the good old days” thing, but there used to be some really cool stations on the radio landscape. The first time I ever traveled to Los Angeles (1989, I think) I tuned in the world famous KROQ, and although the music was similar to what my own station played (102.1 CFNY “the spirit of radio”) there was a clever sense of irreverence and self-deprecation in the station’s promos and ID’s. These were all written and produced by a genius of a guy named John Frost.

Another L.A. station that was just plain fun was KNAC. KNAC was a 24/7 heavy metal station. One morning they played Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” at 8AM. I was impressed. KNAC went dark a few years ago, now they’re just a web stream.

And of course KPIG in Santa Cruz, which was a tie-dyed in the wool hippie station. The day I was listening was the day Brent Mydland, keyboard player for the Grateful Dead, died – so needless to say it was nothing but Grateful Dead music that day.

These kinds of stations as they were could never exist today, and I don’t say that with any sense of bitterness. Everything has a time and a purpose in it’s time. Things are SUPPOSED to change, if they didn’t we’d lack social context, there’d be no watermark for progress or the lack thereof.

When I worked at CFNY it was a magical place at a magical time. I will always consider myself really fortunate to have shared that experience with some really special people, but much the same as people grow up and move on, special times and places in our lives are not meant to last, except in our memories, and there will always be new ones to add to this great, long and hugely interesting trip.

Check this ride, cowboy

These are pictures of a car that belonged to country legend Webb Pierce. Pimp THAT, my friends…

Cats

I love cats. Cats are reasonably independent. Some people find this off-putting. Personally I like an animal that knows it needs me, but is too cool to show it. Cats are very clean, in fact they’re self-cleaning. Cats will shit in a box AND cover it up. Cats, although they speak only one language, have any number of dialects. They’re personalities differ from cat to cat, and some are just plain nuts. Cats have a social order. Cats can fall asleep in the midst of a horrible racket. Cats are endearingly curious. Some cats purr, some don’t, some run around until they crash, some just stare at you and occasionally blink.

This is not to say I don’t love all animals, I’m just partial to cats.

Except for the longhaired ones that they hire to sell toilet paper, those I’d just as soon wipe my ass with.

not good

Very early one morning last Summer 2 Toronto youths were street racing along a stretch of Mt Pleasant Blvd that would be perfect for racing were it not for the fact that it’s not a racetrack, and street racing is illegal and endangering to other drivers and pedestrians. One of the cars struck a cab, killing the driver and leaving his family without a husband/father. Yesterday the 2 youths were sentenced to one year’s house arrest, which is like being grounded by your parents. Oh, and they’re allowed to leave the house to go to work and school.

When the sentence for talking a human life through wreckless endangerment is a one year “grounding” the waterline is well over our heads.

emissions

I read an interesting statistic today. Canadians use 14,500 litres of gas a minute. Mind you some days I expel 14,500 cubic metres of gas a minute, but I’m polite enough to warn those around me.

Mind you that gas could also probably power a few vehicles…

dance as if no one's watching...or not...

Right now there’s a girl sitting across from me on the GO Train listening to music and bopping her head. I have a friend who refers to this as “boho dancing”.

hawkee

Does anyone else think the NHL playoff schedule just plain blows? There hasn’t been a Saturday night game for 2 weeks, and the Stanley Cup finals kicked off on a Monday night (???)

Mind you it was fun seeing Ahhnohld Shvahzenneggehh (goveneh of deh graate staate of Calleefohneeyaahh) with Ron Maclean in a pre-game interview, but Don Cherry’s obsequious behaviour carried a pretty high cringe factor. To quote my lovely wife “he looks like he’s going to pee his pants”.

I’m actually pretty amused that so many Toronto Leaf fans are cheering on the Ducks in the finals, as opposed to supporting the lone Canadian team – because, you know, the Leafs had SUCH a fighting chance to make the playoffs this year, until those Ottawa bastards put a voodoo hex on ‘em. Can’t you just smell the mojo? Aikalimba!

I was 8 years old the last time the Leafs won the cup, that’s how long it’s been.

Trash talk

Littering has to be the most inane activity next to politics. Seriously, it’s one of the most common forms of pollution and yet the easiest to remedy. In fact it’s totally preventable.

The Fountain

Sometimes you chance upon a movie that totally engrosses you from start to finish, that holds you spellbound with it’s sheer beauty and heartbreak. We watched “The Fountain” this past weekend and that’s what it did for me.

In a previous blog I’d mentioned another opportunity to see this film – as an in-flight movie – but I declined. Subtlety + jet engine roar = frustration.

In a nutshell “The Fountain” contrasts the notions of “living forever” with “life everlasting”, an important distinction.

Hugh Jackman plays 3 separate roles in 3 separate time periods; Spanish Conquistador (during the Spanish Inquisition); neural scientist and surgeon (present day); and despondent time traveler (uhm…future). All his earthly time is spent in pursuit of immortality. His obsession with extending life is all-consuming, to the point where he’s no longer actually “living” his own life.

Rachel Weisz, in the present tense, plays his wife who is stricken with brain cancer. While her husband spends most of his time away from her, running a desperate race against time to find a cure for her cancer, she wants nothing more than to have them spend what little time she has left, together.

“The Fountain” is a poignantly told, beautifully illustrated picture of moral dilemma, ethical transgression, and ultimately love.

The Great Outdoors

I’m going camping this weekend, in beautiful Algonquin Park. The last time I went camping it snowed. Yup, nothing like walking out in yer underwear and scraping snow and ice off the tent. However in the 17 years since then I’ve completely abandoned any “purist” notions of camping. This time I’m renting a “yurt”, which is a semi-permanent pre-constructed 16 foot diameter tent that’s already in place in one of the campgrounds. On Saturday morning I will drive up, open the door, toss everything inside and then enjoy the great outdoors. I will bring a coffee maker, an electric griddle, and a radio so I can listen to hockey playoffs and baseball games. Occasionally I will plug in my iPod. “Roughing it” will be confined to using a public shower.

However at some point I WILL capture squirrels, skin ‘em and slow roast them on a spit. Hey, gotta get back to nature somehow…

Law and Disorder

I think it’s time for Law and Order to wrap up its caseload and call it a day. This past Friday night I caught one of the newer shows, albeit a re-run, which introduced Jesse L. Martin’s latest partner, a stunningly beautiful woman named Milena Govich. She replaced Dennis Farina, who replaced the late Jerry Orbach, who was one of the best tv cops ever.

As much as I enjoy looking at Milena Govich for the 30 minutes of the “Law” portion of each week’s show, there’s a small part that’s missing, which would be the acting part. She has 2 expressions – blank, and blank with eyebrows arched.

This past Friday’s episode introduced her character, detective Nina Cassady, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where she came from or how the hell she wound up a homicide detective. There was several mentions of her being a former beauty queen, and at one point her legitimacy as a homicide detective was called into question, but I got the distinct feeling I had more qualifications than she did since I played a cop in a high school production of “Arsenic and Old Lace” many years ago.

There have been several classic characters in L&O’s sometimes illustrious run, but probably only one classic lineup;

Detective Lennie Brisco – Jerry Orbach (R.I.P.)
Detective Mike Logan – Chris Noth
Lt. Anita Van Buren – S. Epatha Merkerson
Executive Assistant District Attorney Ben Stone – Michael Moriarty
Assistant District Attorney Claire Kinkaid – Jill Hennessy

This was killer ensemble acting which has since become the domain of HBO, leaving conventional network television in it’s dust.

I once was blind, then I picked up a hammer and saw

At last count there were 700 of these home reno shows on tv – “Fix This House”, “Flip This Dump” “Fix This Flippin’ Dump” and my favourite “Just What The F*** Was I Thinking Anyway”. Btw I’ve sent a proposal to The Learning Channel (slogan: “Violence Disguised As Education”) for a show called “Burn And Earn”, which involves speculation and arson, but I’ve not heard back from them to date.

I’m actually beginning to enjoy these programs BECAUSE I CAN RELATE to finding out all sorts of shit about a “used” house that makes absolutely no sense…whatsoever. For example why did the previous owners paint the dining room ceiling BLACK? Who the hell owned this house, Anton LaVey? (Google it, peeps…)

Actually to be fair we’ve also discovered some interesting if not amusing things about our house, which was constructed during the reign of the Pharohs. Fer instance there’s a bricked-in square in one of the basement walls, which once served as a coal chute (told ya it was old). We also found a pair of gas jets in the walls on either side of the fireplace, to which gaslights would once have been attached.

But my fave was a recent discovery. We have a walk-in attic storage space (supah handy!!!), the ceiling of which has forever been sheets of cardboard covering rotten insulation. Recently I decided to tear it all out, replace the insulation, and cover it with drywall. As I grabbed the first sheet of cardboard and wailed on it with all my might, out fell 2 packs of DuMaurier cigarettes and a 1971 Playboy magazine. Seems the previous owners kids’ used the attic space fer smoke and spank parties. Funny, you never see those kinds of discoveries on the Discovery channel.

Back to the tube. Last night’s show (I can’t remember the name so make up your own) spotlighted a couple who’d purchased an abandoned 3 bedroom house, sight unseen, at an auction. As they opened the back door for the first time they recoiled from the stench and considered calling the police to check for bodies. However as they pried the door open further, out walked a dog and 2 cats.

SOME ASSHOLE MOVED OUT OF THIS HOUSE AND LEFT A DOG AND 2 CATS BEHIND.

This infuriates me. These are living creatures that you have locked in a house void of food and water to fend for themselves, asswipe.

This kind of crime should carry jail time. Seriously, this is abuse plain and simple, and the kind of person who would imprison an animal with the excuse that it’s life is no longer “convenient” needs to be imprisoned themselves.

There’s no shortage of studies linking animal abuse to human abuse, and no shortage of evidence that children who abuse animals grow up with a disregard for life in general, and become abusive adults.

And frankly I can see no better place for these “animals” than in a cage.

A timely song

I think the values of compassion and forgiveness are important. I just wish I was better at it than I am, but I suppose we all have difficulty with that one.

I’ve been listening to Tom Wait’s “Orphans” CD a lot lately, and I was particularly moved by the song “Down There By The Train”. Tom wrote it in 1994 and the late Johnny Cash recorded it for the first of his Rick Rubin produced projects “American Recordings”. Tom’s own version is one of those songs that just stays with you. Here’s the lyric, enjoy.


There's a place I know where the train goes slow
Where the sinner can be washed in the blood of the lamb
There's a river by the trestle down by sinner's grove
Down where the willow and the dogwood grow

You can hear the whistle, you can hear the bell
From the halls of heaven to the gates of hell
And there's room for the forsaken if you're there on time
You'll be washed of all your sins and all of your crimes
If you're down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there where the train goes slow

There's a golden moon that shines up through the mist
And I know that your name can be on that list
There's no eye for an eye, there's no tooth for a tooth
I saw Judas Iscariot carrying John Wilkes Booth
He was down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
He was down there where the train goes slow

If you've lost all your hope, if you've lost all your faith
I know you can be cared for and I know you can be safe
And all the shamefuls and all of the whores
And even the soldier who pierced the side of the Lord
Is down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there where the train goes slow

Well, I've never asked forgiveness and I've never said a prayer
Never given of myself, never truly cared
I've left the ones who loved me and I'm still raising Cain
I've taken the low road and if you've done the same
Meet me down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there where the train goes slow

Meet me down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there by the train
Down there where the train goes slow

Gas pains pt I

Excuses the oil companies use to raise the price of gas;

- the sun was in our eyes
- a tanker truck in Wyoming got a flat on the way to a refinery
- there might be a flood/hurricane/tornado/drought/plague of locusts/famine somewhere in the world, and this will affect oil prices; and even if there isn’t the very thought of it gives us the willies, so this will affect oil prices
- there’s not enough oil
- there’s too much oil
- we think there’s going to be too much oil at some point, or possibly not enough
- our feet hurt
- hey, a guy/girl has to eat
- there was a well fire on a platform off the coast of Bora Bora, and even though we don’t buy our oil from Bora Bora, this will still affect the price of oil
- an elk tripped over the Alaskan pipeline and, well, you know…
- someone saw the ghost of Saddam Hussein pissing in an oil well – hey, can’t sell that batch
- someone threw sand in the Alberta oil sands – can’t sell contaminated oil
- rock, paper, scissors
- papa needs a brand new bag
- hey, someone’s gotta pay for those “On The Go” stores, might as well be you
- Texas isn’t as big as we originally thought, and this will affect the price of oil
- We found a hole in one of the barrels
- The neighbour’s dog “Son of Sammy” spoke to us – “ruff ruff ruff, raise the price of oil”
- Some kids poured a bag of sugar into the North Sea and it got into all the offshore wells
- Daylight’s comin’ and I wanta go home

Gas pains pt II

I travel past an oil refinery in Bronte, Ontario twice every single weekday on my way to and from work. I’m guessing that they have gasoline there – lots of gasoline. Gasoline that’s been in those mammoth tanks for, oh , 3 months or more. Gasoline that has neither been affected by natural disasters nor oil shortages or well fires. Funny thing though – the gasoline in those tanks will sell for the same or more than the oil that HAS been through the aforementioned misfortunes. Unfortunately I’ll never get any politician to explain this discrepancy to me. They don’t have to, their gas is paid for – by us.

Gov't MIA

The last time the price of gas went well above a dollar a litre I did what our members of parliament encourage us to do. I wrote to our now retired Liberal MP Beth Phinney. She never wrote back. I also wrote her several years ago when a teenager was brutally murdered at a mall near our home. She never wrote back. I’m pretty sure she can read because she would regularly send us a “report” telling us all about the wonderful work she was doing on parliament hill as our elected representative. Oddly she never mentioned gas price gouging or crime stats. I guess these things didn’t matter in her world.

Ship of fools

Last December the Ontario Liberal party, the reigning fools in our province, forced through a bill granting themselves a 25 percent pay raise. This was their last act of business prior to their Christmas break, which lasts into February. The bill was introduced by my own member of provincial parliament Marie Bountragiani. In the four years that she’s served as our elected representative in provincial parliament this is the FIRST act of business that I’ve EVER heard of Ms Bountragiani bring involved in. Apparently the only person she’s representing is herself.

the cycle of poverty

I find it sadly ironic that the kinds of foods that are most affordable to those living at or below the poverty line are the least nutritious and therefore the worst for them. Foods that are full of fats, sugars and starches; fast foods that are barely fit for animal consumption; junk foods that are responsible for obesity and lethargy. All of these contribute to the vicious circle of poverty.

imho

I’m convinced that Radiohead’s “OK Computer” is the closest that my generation will come to The Beatles “Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”.

And speaking of “Sgt Pepper’s” – yesterday I read a quote from Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek in which he’s convinced that The Beatles ripped off the orchestral climax of “A Day In The Life” from the climax of The Doors “The End”. Piss off Ray. BTW am I the only one who thinks that Jim Morrison was a highly overrated drunk?

Time tunnel

When I was young and drunk several of my friends (flesh-and-blood friends that is, not “myspace” friends) would go to see Canrockers Goddo at every available opportunity. I was never a big fan of the band, but that’s neither here nor there. I bring this up because head Goddo guy Greg Godovitz is now employed by one of the radio stations I work for, and he’s frequently seen in the hallways. Yesterday I was walking back to my studio and heard this over the station intercom system: “Would Greg Godovitz please call reception, Greg Godovitz please call reception”. I dunno, seemed kind of funny…

non sequitor

Do you ever have weird thoughts pop into your head, stuff like “I wonder how long it would take me to dismantle that building by hand?”

No?

Me neither…

Sir George

The evening of Thursday May 3rd was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I saw Sir George Martin speak at Toronto’s Wintergarden Theatre. For those of you too young to remember The Beatles, and that’s most of you on myspace, George Martin was their Producer. He’s often referred to as “the 5th Beatle”. In truth I always thought “the 5th Beatle” referred to Charlie Manson – turns out no.

Imagine spending 2 rapturous hours spellbound by stories about the making of “Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”, listening to original demos for the songs that made up that landmark album (we used to call them “albums” son, now pull up your pants and straighten that ball cap”), hearing Sir George solo different parts of songs like “Strawberry Fields” and “A Day In The Life” so that he could illustrate how John Lennon double-tracked his vocal parts, or how drums and vocals were often recorded to one track because they only had 4 tracks to work with and they needed 2 for bass and guitars.

Now imagine this 81 year old, handsome, dignified master who saw The Beatles at their very best and their very worst, solemnly recalling the day his close friend, Beatle’s manager Brian Epstein, took his own life.

George Martin, with incredible technical skill and an even greater empathy for the artistic spirit, allowed The Beatles to explore musical ideas that broke all convention. When John Lennon wanted a calliope on the song “For The Benefit of Mr Kite” George Martin didn’t tell him why they couldn’t haul a steam-driven behemoth of an instrument into Abbey Road studios – instead he created John’s calliope with hundreds of bits of cut-up recording tape randomly spliced together. There was no such thing as “no”, there was only “how”.

Here are a few precious tidbits I learned that night;

- George Martin almost didn’t sign The Beatles to EMI when Brian Epstein first played him their demo tape. Martin thought the songs were terrible, and he is a man who would know these things. However when the band played live for him he signed them on the spot, if for no other reason than their spirit and charm, and their unfaltering belief that they would make it big

- when he wrote the string quartet arrangement for “Eleanor Rigby” George Martin based it on Bernard Herrman’s theme for the Hitchcock film “Psycho” – not the “screech screech screech” part from the shower scene, but the main theme with it’s staccato syncopations

- the trumpet solo for “Penny Lane” was based on Bach’s “Brandenburg Concerto”. Paul McCartney had seen a London Symphony trumpeter performing the concerto on television. George Martin wrote the part, and McCartney had that same trumpeter perform it in the song

Sir George finished the evening with a poignant tale about John Lennon and his method of counting in a song. Traditionally if a song is in 4/4 time one of the musicians will count in “1,2,3,4” and the band begins to play. However John Lennon would always count in songs with nonsense words spoken in the rhythm of the tune. So in closing, as the house lights dimmed and the large screen onstage lit up with an image of John at a microphone, his now sadly disembodied voice quietly counted in “sugarplum fai-ry, sugarplum fai-ry” – and as the opening piano chords of “A Day In The Life” filled the room, the world of rock and roll as all of us had known it changed forever.

Cause and defect

Every time I see a TV commercial for some monster pickup truck with a 300 horsepower V8 hemi, or an SUV big enough to carry a professional sports team, all I can think is that SOLDIERS AND CITIZENS ARE BEING KILLED IN IRAQ SO THAT SELF-CENTERED DOUCHEBAGS CAN FILL THEIR GARGANTUAN TANKS AND DRIVE TO THE FUCKING MALL.

Sorry, was that out loud?

Perspective

Several years ago I was driving through downtown Toronto towards the highway in the early evening of Hallowe’en. As I neared my ramp I saw, on the sidewalk adjacent to the St Lawrence Market, a woman in a wheelchair with a small child in her lap. The child was dressed in a Hallowe’en costume, and the mother was taking her trick or treating, door to door in a wheelchair. I didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

I believe that every major experience in your life shapes the person you become, mentally and physiologically. That may sound really obvious, but a lot of people remain in stoic denial of life’s shifting reality. These people usually die in factory accidents.

One of my favourite bands, Tool, is playing my hometown July 9th, and I fully intend to be there. Their last album “10,000 Days” has been out for close to a year now. The title refers to the number of days singer Maynard Keenan’s mother spent in a wheelchair (approximately 27 years), the result of a stroke. This happened when he was around 11 years old.

Imagine growing up watching your mother imprisoned in her own body for reasons you can’t begin to understand, nevermind accept. Naturally, in the absence of a medical explanation you’re going to look for someone or something to blame. Maynard blamed God. The irony is that before AND after her stroke, his mother remained devoutly faithful to God, Christianity and the church. Maynard’s lyrics, written for both Tool and side-project A Perfect Circle, testify to his frustration at not being able to resolve this dichotomy, much as you or I would find it difficult to forgive someone for murdering a family member.

Keenan’s most powerful outrage came in the song “Judith” from the first Perfect Circle album “Mers De Nom” (Judith Marie was his mother’s name) In the song’s chorus he screams “F*** your God”. Not much doubt there.

Maynard Keenan’s mother passed away in 2003. Two tracks on “10,000 Days” (“Wings For Marie” and the title track) narrate both the struggle and the spiritual liberation of letting her go,


Who could deny you were the one who illuminated
your little piece of the divine

This little light of mine, a gift you passed onto me,
I'm gonna let it shine,
to guide you safely on your way

Your way home...

Ohh, what are they gonna do when the lights go down
without you to guide them all to Zion?
What are they gonna do when the rivers overrun
other than tremble incessantly?

High is the way
but our eyes are upon the ground.
You are the light and the way
They'll only read about

I only pray heaven knows
When to lift you out

10000 days in the fire is long enough.
You're going home...

You're the only one who can hold your head up high,
Shake your fist at the gates saying,
"I have come home now!

Fetch me the spirit, the son and the father,
Tell them their pillar of faith has ascended.

It's time now!
My time now!
Give me my
Give me my wings”

You are the light, the way,that they will only read about

Set as I am in my ways and my arrogance
Burden of proof tossed upon non-believers.
You were my witness, my eyes, my evidence,
Judith Marie, unconditional one.

Daylight dims leaving cold fluorescence.
Difficult to see you in this light.
Please forgive this bold suggestion:
Should you see your maker's face tonight
Look him in the eye
Look him in the eye and tell him
I never lived a lie, never took a life,
But surely saved one
Hallelujah,
It's time for you to bring me home.

A far cry from “F*** your God”, this song speaks volumes about the impact a loved one’s personal journey can eventually have on your own life.

Not everyone’s taste, but there’s no denying that Tool is a band that has remained unflinchingly honest and true to themselves and their art.

Never forget who you work for

I can’t stand Olivia Chow…or Jack Layton for that matter. Together they embody those most despicable qualities of any politician: arrogance and pretension.

When our provincial government announced that they were banning the use of Facebook at Queen’s Park (Ontario’s provincial house of government), Olivia Chow (who has approximately 1,000 Facebook “friends”) opined “what are my thousands of friends going to do now? How will they stay in touch with me?” DAMN I hate it when politicians spin their own self-serving electioneering into public service pleas. Gosh Olivia, what WILL your thousands of friends do? Chances are they’ll become hopelessly despondent and drink themselves to death. Some may leap from office towers, leaving behind scribbled notes proclaiming that a life without Olivia is no life at all. Others will pick up a scythe or bridle horse to plow and go to work tilling the fields, all the while believing that the cause of the worker must prevail, that even though the head dies the body lives on.

Or maybe they’ll do what the rest of us do and just ignore you.

Baseball

I love baseball. Not in a memorize-every-stat kind of way, more as a romantic ideal. Football is brute force with some strategy thrown in for appearance. Hockey is strength and fury. Baseball is enchantment played out on a field of grass and dirt. Baseball takes us out of our own thoughts and into a (somewhat) civilized world of order, ritual and history.

There’s a poetry to baseball, a prose that reveals itself over 9 innings, where the outcome can change right up to the last pitch. There’s an assured calm to baseball - not pin-drop quiet but rather a feeling that for 2-and-a-half hours on a sunny afternoon everything is right in the world.

Baseball is Joe Carter’s dramatic home run in the dying moments of the ’93 World Series. It’s Kirk Gibson coming into the game with a bad leg injury, 9th inning, game 1 of the ’85 World Series and pounding it into the stands to win it for the Dodgers. It’s the late Tom Cheek’s fatherly voice calling the game on the radio, occasionally dropping in anecdotes of the great players and the great plays.

Baseball transcends everyday life, and every October when the last pitch has been thrown and the final out has been called I feel a certain sadness that winter is upon us, and a good friend has gone away.