Science Amok Redux
Some of you may remember that this blog posted a link on farting herring. Well, here's Dave Barry's more authoritative report on the matter, complete with a slight explanation: the fish are indeed Yankees fans. ;-)
29 November 2003
Elk Aeda: The Latest Terrorist Threat
This blog wonders if Canada will soon be afflicted with similarly afflicted moose.
Limited Release
Ah, they don't make 'em like they used to, eh?
Is it just this blog, or does this article seem to make a confusing logical leap? Best this blog can figure, this study is positing that mothers in recent years are smoking more heavily, and thus it is affecting the sperm count of their sons. But this article is a classic example in discombobulation.
Gobbledygook
From the 'things that make you go ewwww' file.... I can see James Beard rolling over in his gargantuan grave,
Brian's Song?
This blog is absolutely shocked that these articles didn't find themselves posted on someone else's website. It's not often The Post stands on the side of the just thing, but....
(Side quibble: everyone's forgetting that one of the reasons the show went through such a drastic decline was that it was shown opposite Friends and Survivor for some time. Yet another victim of network idiocy.)
25 November 2003
R.I.P.
Alas, it seems that headline is more and more common on this blog, and indeed in my own thinking. Today, it's the passing of Hugh Kenner, one of the very few truly significant literary critics, author of (among so many other books) Joyce's Voices, T.S. Eliot: The Invisible Poet, and The Invisible Community. Here is the obituary from the NYTimes. March sadly after.
(And this blog shudders to note that our elder states-critics are now dwindled down to two: the cantankerous and sometimes insane Harold Bloom, and the ingenious but supposedly discredited Frank Kermode. Sad times, indeed. Sadder still, now I have to and inflict an exam on my wee ones. The poor, poor things. The honeymoon was, of course, too long to last, but there we are.)
Hugh Kenner, Commentator on Literary Modernism, Dies at 80
November 25, 2003
By CHRISTOPHER LEHMANN-HAUPT
Hugh Kenner, the critic, author and professor of literature regarded as America's foremost commentator on literary modernism, especially the work of Ezra Pound and James Joyce, died yesterday at his home in Athens, Ga. He was 80.
He had been suffering from heart problems, his wife, Mary Anne Kenner, said.
The variety of Mr. Kenner's interests was contained in 25 books of his own (he contributed to 200 more) and nearly 1,000 articles, as well as broadcasts and recordings. He wrote commandingly on everything from Irish poetry to geodesic math and Li'l Abner's pappy (Lucifer Ornamental Yokum), to the Heath/Zenith Z-100 computer (one of which he built for himself and then wrote the user's guide) and the animated cartoons of Chuck Jones.
But it was for his pioneering guide to English-language literary modernism and for his books "Dublin's Joyce" (1956), "The Pound Era" (1971) and "Joyce's Voices" (1978) that Mr. Kenner was best known. In these works and others he employed the techniques proposed by the writers themselves to define new standards by which to judge their work.
In "The Pound Era," perhaps his masterwork, he tried to show how the American expatriate poet absorbed the altered sense of time created by Einstein's revolution and helped to pass it on to artists like Joyce, Wyndham Lewis, Eliot, William Carlos Williams and the sculptor Henri Gaudier-Brzeska.
While some faulted Mr. Kenner for attributing to Pound too much prominence in the scheme of modern art, no one failed to be impressed by the vigor and importance of Mr. Kenner's analysis.
In a 1988 review of "A Sinking Island: The Modern English Writers," the critic Richard Eder wrote in The Los Angeles Times: "Kenner doesn't write about literature; he jumps in, armed and thrashing. He crashes it, like a party-goer who refuses to hover near the door but goes right up to the guest of honor, plumps himself down, sniffs at the guest's dinner, eats some and begins a one-to-one discussion. You could not say whether his talking or his listening is done with greater intensity."
William Hugh Kenner was born in Peterborough, Ontario, on Jan. 7, 1923, the son of Henry Rowe Hocking Kenner, the principal, instructor of Latin and Greek and baseball coach of Peterborough Collegiate and Vocational Institute (now School), and Mary Isabel (Williams) Kenner, a classics teacher. After graduating from the Peterborough institute, he attended the University of Toronto, where he studied under Marshall McLuhan, taking his bachelor's in 1945 and master's in 1946, with a gold medal in English. He had difficulty deciding whether to study English or mathematics and opted for English because he said he would have been "only a competent mathematician," his son Robert said in an interview yesterday.
In 1947 he married Mary Josephine Waite, a librarian, who died in 1964. They had five children, Catherine, Julia, Margaret, John and Michael. In 1965 he married Mary Anne Bittner, an instructor in nursing at the University of Virginia. This marriage produced two children, Robert and Elizabeth. All seven children survive him, along with 12 grandchildren. Also in 1947, his first book, "Paradox in Chesterton," was published in England, with an introduction by McLuhan, who insisted that the author take a doctorate.
In 1950 Mr. Kenner completed his Ph.D. at Yale. His thesis was published in 1951 as his first book in the United States, "The Poetry of Ezra Pound." In it, he deplored Pound for having delivered radio broadcasts in Italy during World War II in support of that country's fascist government; at the same time he argued on behalf of the poet's important literary achievement. The book received the Porter Prize in 1950.
Having completed his degrees Mr. Kenner was appointed an instructor at Santa Barbara College (later the University of California at Santa Barbara), where he taught until 1973. From 1973 to 1990 he taught at Johns Hopkins University, where he was Andrew Mellon professor of humanities. From 1990 until his retirement in 1999, he taught at the University of Georgia.
All the while, the writing poured forth, his other major books being studies of Lewis, Eliot, Beckett, as well as "Ulysses" (1980; revised in 1987), "A Homemade World: The American Modernist Writers" (1975) and "A Colder Eye: The Modern Irish Writers" (1983).
Over time his prose style grew increasingly graceful, witty and accessible, prompting C. K. Stead, writing in The Times Literary Supplement, to call him "the most readable of living critics." He thought of writing as an "abnormal act," as he told an interviewer at U.S. News & World Report in 1983, rendered an increasingly "quaint skill" by the rise of other forms of communication.
Yet he scarcely confined his communication to print. Told by Pound in the early 1950's "to visit the great men of your own time," Mr. Kenner befriended many of his subjects, as well as the poet Louis Zukofsky, Buckminster Fuller and William F. Buckley Jr., who was best man at his second wedding.
Nor, surprisingly, did he deplore the decline of print as our main medium. "We forget that most of what people read when everybody read all the time was junk - competent junk," he told U.S. News & World Report. "Now they get it from television. The casual entertainment people get in The
evening from the box was what they used to get from the short fiction in The Saturday Evening Post. That magazine and others like it were the situation comedies and cop shows of their era. It is not a cultural loss that this particular use of literacy has been transferred from one medium to another."
For the original text
22 November 2003
Children In Some Kind
I don't know quite why, but I felt like posting these lines:
O you heavenly Charmers,
What things you make of us! For what we lacke
We laugh, for what we have, are sorry: still
Are children in some kind. Let us be thankefull
For that which is, and with you leave dispute
That are above our question. Let's goe off,
And beare us like the time.
--- Theseus in Shakespeare's The Two Noble Kinsmen
These lines, by general consensus are actually Shakespeare's and not John Fletcher's, and there's a kind of wistful sense of personal departure to them. "Beare us like the time." Lovely.
The Scat In The Hat
This blog fully expected that Mike Myers' The Cat In The Hat would be a bad movie, but it didn't quite imagine the reviews would be this bad. Ouch. Most of the reviews I read posited the dreadful possibility of follow-up films to this. Please, please-- no.
Addendum:
Finished a NYTimes Crossword Puzzle from some time ago called "Green Eggs and Hamlet." This verse at the centre of the puzzle is perhaps worth invoking here:
I do not like my dad's brother
Poisoned king, wed my mother.
I let them think that I am mad--
Oops I stabbed Ophelia's dad!
Nobody helps me in my plight,
Now Laertes and I will fight.
Swords are switched in a jam:
A theatrical ending, Ham I am.
21 November 2003
Residence Evils
Received this from a student a while ago, but am finally posting it here.
How to write a paper in college/university:
1. Sit in a straight, comfortable chair in a well lit place in front of your computer.
2. Log onto MSN and ICQ (be sure to go on away!). Check your email.
3. Read over the assignment carefully, to make certain you understand it.
4. Walk down to the vending machines and buy some chocolate to help you concentrate.
5. Check your email.
6. Call up a friend and ask if he/she wants to go to the caf and grab a hot chocolate. Just to get settled down and ready to work.
7. When you get back to your room, sit in a straight, comfortable chair in a clean, well lit place.
7a. If your room is not clean, take out the garbage and vacuum first.
8. Read over the assignment again to make absolutely certain you understand it.
9. Check your email.
10. You know, you haven't written to that kid you met at camp since fourth grade. You'd better write that letter now and get it out of the way so you can concentrate.
11. Look at your teeth in the bathroom mirror.
12. Grab some mp3z off of kazaa.
13. Check your email.
ANY OF THIS SOUND FAMILIAR YET?!
14. MSN chat with one of your friends about the future (ie summer plans).
15. Check your email.
16. Listen to your new mp3z and download some more.
17. Phone your friend on the other floor and ask if she's started writing yet. Exchange derogatory remarks about your prof, the the college, the world at large.
18. Walk to the store and buy a pack of gum. You've probably run out.
19. While you've got the gum you may as well buy a magazine and read it.
20. Check your email.
21. Check the newspaper listings to make sureyou aren't missing something truly worthwhile on TV.
22. Play some solitare.
23. Check out bored.com.
24. Wash your hands.
25. Call up a friend to see how much they have done, probably haven't started either.
26. Look through your housemate's book of pictures from home. Ask who everyone is.
27. Sit down and do some serious thinking aboutyour plans for the future.
28. Check to see if bored.com has been updated yet.
29. Check your email and listen to your newmp3z.
30. You should be rebooting by now, assumingthat windows is crashing on schedule.
31. Read over the assignment one more time, just for the heck of it.
32. Scoot your chair across the room to the window and watch the sunrise.
33. Lie face down on the floor and moan.
34. Punch the wall and break something.
35. Check your email.
36. Mumble obscenties.
37. 5am - start hacking on the paper without stopping. 6am -paper is finished.
38. Complain to everyone that you didn't getany sleep because you had to write that stupid paper.
39. Go to class, hand in paper, and leave right away so you can take a nap.
20 November 2003
Oy.
Stephen King has passed off a rant as an acceptance speech. I will allow that many readers enjoy King and so on and so forth: fine and dandy. But there is no way that King -- or those he invoked like a list of injured parties, like Mary Higgins Clark and Tom Clancy-- are really making significant contributions to the world of literature. Many other writers, like Graham Greene and Robert Frost, were able to be both significant literary players and popular writers. Popularity and literary 'significance' are not necessarily exclusive to one another. But when you stack King (or any of his fellow slighted-ones) up against the likes of Updike, Miller or Philip Roth, he just doesn't rate. Personally, I dislike King's prose and his stories, but setting that aside (assuming those things could be matters of taste), we have to ask if King's novels really do anything of significance in terms of understanding the possibilities of the literary form. I can't see that he really adds anything new, or provides a new perspective on things old and familiar. He writes mostly horror-versions of what Greene used to call 'entertainments,' allowing perhaps that more ambitious projects like The Stand (a staggering misery of a book) are really pretty dull versions of older stories. Who knows, maybe King will write something of more genuine significance. At this point, though, I see nothing in his work to warrant such an award, or to warrant an argument for his long-term significance in the literary canon.
I don't want to get into the sticky question of 'what is literature,' a question that seems less and less valuable the more people insist on raising it. It does strike me as interesting that the claims of 'ignoring the popular' is the whinge-like argument of the mediocre. Is King worthy of study? Perhaps. Would I let a student of mine, in a course on, oh, contemporary fiction, write a paper on King? Sure, why not. In the end, though, I suspect this hypothetical student would end up writing a paper that was more sociological than literary qua literary. And there's the telling point. He is not a stylist, he is not an innovator, he is not an especially deft creator of literary worlds-- and he, to my admittedly limited reading of him, is never in any way profound. So, while his works may have a kind of immediate appeal to a throng of people, their literary historical significance will be pretty much nil. King's novels are like cheap Chinese food: perhaps momentarily filling (or bloating), but shortly later one feels hungry again, this time for something more substantial. And this blog will make no remark connecting reading King to the excremental final stage of such Chinese food.
What The???
As if we needed further proof that John Ashcroft is a village idiot of monstrous-- and dangerous-- proportions, we have his assertion that the U.S. acted appropriately in deporting Maher Arar to Syria instead of Canada. In the immortal words of Wallace Shawn in The Princess Bride, "Inconceivable!"
Does anyone else cath a whiff of a threat (another in a long line of American threats issued toward Canada in the past few years) in Easter's account of the meeting? Hmmmm.....
The Other Half
This is why the internet had to exist: to provide us with truly genuine understanding of how others experience the world.
First Thing We Do, Let's Tax All The Smokers
Dalton McGuinty and his cronies have proven that they are not Liberals: they are fucking Puritans. Let's face facts: a $15 per carton (or $2 per pack) added levy is a convenient and disgusting tax grab that has absolutely nothing to do with 'health considerations' or anything else. It's a cynical gesture of beating up once more on a group of people who've been beat up on time and time again by holier-than-thou activist groups. And it's nothing short of extortion. And I won't even go into the many, many, many ways in which the 'health and finance' arguments are flimsy and downright idiotic. Hitting smokers again, and so kosh-like, is just self-righteous bullying.
And, by the way, the note about Ontario having the cheapest cigarettes in Canada: this may be true, but that's only because all of the other provinical governments have done the same damned thing of exhorbitant cigarette taxation. Talk about bullshit logic.
(I write this as a smoker, yes, but I'd feel the same way were any one part of the population so egregiously extorted. As a matter of principle, it's picking on a group of people that are treated with pariah-like disdain. And that, to me, is fundamentally unconstitutional.)
Another point: I am astonished at the "but we didn't know" reactions of McGuinty to the higher-than-reported provincial deficit which is supposedly causing the Liberals to backtrack on promises. All through the election campaign McGuinty said that the deficit was going to be about 5 billion, undermining the claims of Ernie Eves that the deficit would be 2 billion. Okay. We get it: Ernie lied. But McGuinty *knew* the approximate deficit well before he came to power, and yet he still made extravagant promises to get himself elected-- promises to which he would never adhere. Face it, McGuinty: you lied. You're just as much of a bloody huckster as you accused Eves of being. So stop whining. You feigned knowledge in the campaign, and now you feign ignorance. You can't have it both bloody ways, you manipulative slimeball. The honeymoon's over, you inveterate bullshitter.
Yet Another Silly Test
Hmmmmm.... I donts kna whats ta say.... I always find such tests dubious, but what the hell. (No, I won't bother going into the elaborate reasons for my skepticism of such tests, but they're semantic to the point that nobody would want to read my quibbles.)
Conscious self | Overall self |
 |  |
I can hear the peanut gallery now...
18 November 2003
It's A B----
Please, please, please, say it ain't so: Steve, my man, remember Ted Wass. Let history take its course.
And with that, I will disappear into another Tuesday of misery. Extra office hours today in the pub as essays pend, like creditors, as vipers a few feet away. Oy vey. (And why is it that the Doctor always thinks of A--- when he says or writes that phrase, even though he was saying it long before their orbits met? He knows not. Agh. The cruelties of memory.)
By the way, saw the movie Boat Trip today. Ugh. Rancid. Creepiest thing: Roger Moore as an ageing queen claiming he used to be a bad motherfucker. It's rather like having steaming hot pea soup thrown in one's face. Shudder, shudder, shudder.
17 November 2003
Further Proof That There Has To Be A Holiday For Everything, or
Cannery Row
This blog wonders if it will be necessary to buy cards.
This blog also cannot fathom the need for a World Toilet Summit. And imagine the protestors: "We will not tolerate the commode-ification of our society! Please, won't you think of the shitters?"
Snails and Microwave Saunas
Dave Barry's column today should be of topical interest. This blog's favourite bit: "Clinical studies show that, if you take these products as recommended, your cold will be gone in two to three weeks; whereas if you don't take these products, your cold could linger for as long as two, or even three, weeks." Just say no. Ahem. Sorry, Catherine. ;-)
Another Sign The World Is Coming To A Fiery End
This blog is actually giving props to Justin Timberlake again. This blog realizes now that, in the words of Van Morrison, it is "caught up in a crazy, mixed-up, fucked-up world."
Further note: Diva Syndrome is proving symptomatic again. Surprised? Natch. One has to note a serious case of jealousy in the words "they didn't even screen my kiss properly." Awwwh, poor skanky baby.
And Deliver Us From Evil...
It's official. Pardon this blog while it does it's best impression of Charlton Heston at the end of The Planet of the Apes. "The Bastards!"
~~Democracy Is Coming / To The U.S.A....~~
Now you too can get inside J. Lo's panties (in case you already haven't). This blog will say absolutely nothing about the dimensions of such garments.
16 November 2003
One In Three Britons Are Right On The Money
Or so this blog feels after reading this. Except the preferred Canadian term is 'moron.' ;-)
Spare The Rod
Okay, I should really be getting to work, but I had to post this link. This blog's favourite bit: "it is like he has a new toy and he has to play with it."
Eliot On Interpretation
I wanted to get this down in this blog before I forget to write about it:
And Bradley's apothegm that 'metaphysics is the finding of bad reasons for what we believe upon instinct; but to find these reasons is no less an instinct', applies as precisely to the interpretation of poetry.
To interpret, then, or to seek to pounce upon a secret, to elucidate the pattern and pluck out the mystery, of a poet's work, is 'no less an instinct'. Nor is the effort altogether vain; for as the study of philosophy, and indeed the surrendering ourselves, with adequate knowledge of other systems, to some system of our own or of someone else, is as needful part of a man's life as falling in love or making any contract, so it is necessary to surrender ourselves to some interpretation of the poetry we like. (In my own experience, a writer needs less to 'interpret' the work of some minor poet who has influenced him, and whom he has assimilated, than the work of those poets who are too big for anyone wholly to assimilate. But I dare say that if one was as great a poet as Shakespeare, and was also his 'spiritual heir', one would feel no need to interpret him; interpretation is necessary perhaps only in so far as one is passive, not creative, oneself.)
---[from T.S. Eliot's introduction to G. Wilson Knight's The Wheel of Fire]
Eventually I'll get around to arguing why Eliot here has his head firmly shoved into his ass ("cranial-glutimal ensconcement," as an old friend put it), and perhaps even why Eliot's own criticism betrays the propositions put forth here. But I really should get to other matters (i.e., ones for which I get paid).
Keep My Feet On The Ground: Notes On Keeping This Blog
Oy, there's always so much I mean to put on this blog, for one reason or another, but which I never get around to doing, for the same vague 'reason or another.' I've meant for several weeks to post for Arby an explanation (defense?) of Eliot's poetry, which in many ways for me would be as easy as pie, except for the basic fact that it would take me just under an eon to say all the things I would want to say. Now and again I've even made stabs at starting the entry, but either something goes wrong (my computer's temperament is less than genial) or I, Hamlet-like, delay myself into inaction. (Aside: this blog wonders if Hamlet only gets his butt into gear after slays Polonius because he's finally developed a taste for blood. But no, that doesn't work, either. Gawd, that play is a monstrous mess.) It doesn't help either that there's always other stuff that I should be doing, and so this blog comes to seem more like an invitation to procrastinate, an invitation my humour wishes to indulge but which my responsibilities say I mustn't. It surely doesn't help that when I am stirred to make what seems to me a significant point, I tend to uncover a larger network of ideas I did not intent to expose at the outset. Hence RK's clever and true observation that Doctor J's "idea of a brief point is rather like Fidel Castro's. With the distinction that yours are usually right." (Right, Zane?) Well, hopefully 'usually right.'
Then there's the other side of the coin. I've discovered that there are actually a (small) number of people who check this blog rather regularly not so much for the links or for what Doctor J is thinking at any given moment, but for "proof of life," proof that the Good Doctor is indeed alive and well and certainly not living in Paris. (Doctor J has the same problem with his bars-- at some bars in his stomping ground, if Doc J doesn't manifest himself for a few days, people start worrying and even threaten to send out the cops. And, yes, this is an insidious problem.) So, there's that tension, too: to post something, anything, now and again, as a kind of palliative-- for my readers to know I'm still in working order, and for myself to appease that sense that I should post something as a kind of personal diaristic discipline. Hence the tendency of late toward more humouristic piffle which, ironically, my readers tend to prefer to my more philosophical or literary discussions, or to the literary works I have posted here ostensibly for the edification of others beside myself. *Shrug*
So, in the end, half the stuff that I'd like to get done here never gets done, and the other half is little more than computerized mental onanism. (With a distinct preference for the latter of late, mainly for reasons of time and energy.) But this blog was never meant to be overly earnest, overly serious to any particular project except its own existence. I'm not sure I'd want to keep this blog going if I kept it entirely to one field of ideas, or to one form of 'journal-ism.' It'd become more of a labour than anything, and it would end up precluding a lot of the incidentals of experience and discovery that end up being provocative or delightful in one sense or another. This blog is quirky that way, and to an extent it's proud of that quirkiness. Okay, maybe not 'proud' per se, but unashamed that it is what it is-- and that it is that it is. So there we are....
Am I saying anything new in this post that most of my readers don't already know? Probably not. Sometimes, though, it's worthwhile to take stock of things, to go over the obvious all over again because it's when we lose contact with the obvious that we end up committing some of the most preposterous acts, like a dog chasing its tail, or a Freudian thinking Hamlet is really a person and not a dramatical construct, or a cultural-materialist refusing to see literature as an exercise in the hypothetical and the imaginative.
And, yes, these notes may be Castro-like in their 'brevity.' But there we go. And now I really should get on to doing the things I ought to be doing: preparing my students' mid-term examination, marking, reading-- all the nefarious things that dog the real world of Doctor J.
In the immortal syllables of Bob Dylan: "Blah blah blah blah blah."
15 November 2003
daeD sI luaP
Remember the old days of vinyl? Remember the exercise of playing records backwards, whether just for amusement or to discover that Paul McCartney is actually dead and that Chicago backwards is actually the voice of Satan? (Actually this is not true: Satan's voice can only be heard on Barbara Streisand albums. But you don't have to play the records backwards.) Those of you who long to be able to do that again in our computer-driven post-musical society (yes, the Doctor is a contender that music is getting worse and worse, so sue him), you can get your jollies at this site. This blog suspects that "Dirty" contains a subliminal message from the pharmaceutical industry and that Ja Rule is, in fact, Linda Blair.
Glory, Glory Hallelujah
How appropriate is it that this article ends with the word "come"? (Sad thing is, I know a few people dense enough to think exactly the way the 'author' does.)
Wordsworst
Received this today from Mr Mitchell, a clever parody of a Wordsworthian sonnet. Alas, Wordsworth, at his worst (as with Coleridge) could write some of the most intolerable tripe. Those preening to say the same of this blog are politely advised to piss off. ;-)
A Sonnet
Two voices are there: one is of the deep;
It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody,
Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea,
Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep:
And one is of an old half-witted sheep
Which bleats articulate monotony,
And indicates that two and one are three,
That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep:
And, Wordsworth, both are thine: at certain times
Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes,
The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst:
At other times - good Lord! I'd rather be
Quite unacquainted with the ABCs
Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst.
--- J.K. Stephen
[just in case you're curious, the sonnet is an imitation of Wordsworth's "Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland," from his "Sonnets Dedicated to Liberty" from Poems in Two Volumes (1807)]
"I Believe The World Needs More Canada"
Just in case you were wondering, here is Aljazeera's take on the coronation of Paul Martin as Liberal leader. There's nothing particularly controversial in the article, but I guess it's just interesting to see that every now and again Canada's politics warrant mention in the international media. As a Canadian, though, it's comforting to know that our new Liberal-Leader-soon-to-be-Prime-Minister has Bono's endorsement.
It's interesting reading the various arguments about Jean Chretien's political legacy, like this one by John Ibbitson. The thing is, until I heard Chretien speak last night, for the life of me I couldn't think of a single defining characteristic of Chretien's reign that was significant. Sure, he got rid of the deficit and he (barely) beat back the Separatists, but both of those things were just as attributable to Martin. Sure, he made the PMO the centre of the government, consolidating the real power with the Prime Minister's office and essentially rendering Parliament a rubber stamp. I'm still I'm still trying to figure out if that's a good or a bad thing (bad in the sense of being profoundly anti-democratic, good in the sense of ensuring stuff gets done). But a legacy? Well, JC reminded us just how much things have changed since he became PM, and how much even as he leave now Canada seems to be fairly impervious to a lot of the economic problems that have lately fallen on the United States, Japan, and most of Europe (mostly the result of the deficit-free budgets of the past several years). Certainly people are more optimistic: even students, not too long ago sure their world was turning as sour as bad wine, are more optimistic. So perhaps that's Chretien's achievement: he got us out of the Mulroney funk, or rather he led us as we got over it.
This blog has to express its own surprise that politics has been coming up so much lately here, mainly because there are a lot of changes happening in Canada, and there's an overarching sense that we've entered a new period (in Ontario especially where most of us have recently seen major political changes at the federal, provincial and municipal governments in the past two months). There's just a lot going on, and a very real sense that there's change in the air. Now we have a provincial premier that at least doesn't act like a rube or look like a mafioso, and soon we'll have a Prime Minister that doesn't commit the same sort of verbal atrocities that Dubya commits.
Let there be hope.
Addendum: This blog should also add that Bono's speech was surprisingly effective, and a nice change from the stumping and thumping typical of political party conventions. Sure, his delivery was often slow and stilted, and but it was also an effective mixture of poignancy and humour, of emotional sincerity and Irish charm. The speech itself was also surprisingly on-point, especially as he made the connection between Canada's capacity for international leadership and the Third World debt crises. He also made a good point, that perhaps Canada is in a unique position to provide leadership, in large part because Canada has not been tagged internationally with the same stigmas with which other Western countries have been tagged, especially the stigma of indifferent self-interest that so engenders suspicion-- and sometimes hatred-- throughout the world. All in all, it was a pretty good speech, especially considering Bono is by no means an orator-- or perhaps because he isn't. It was a nice break from the onanistic professions of self-love from the politicos. It's usually a bad sign when musicians start talking about social policy, but this blog will allow Bono an exemption from that rule. Just don't tell the divas. *Shudders at the thought of P. Diddy or Britney Spears trying to discuss the need for an international war crimes court.*
14 November 2003
The Kid Stays In The Picture!
Gee, that didn't take long: an online petition on behalf of Christopher Lee has already gathered 10,000 names.
Out Of The Pink
This blog is very much resisting the temptation to say a whole lot of things about this article. It will say nothing, it will say nothing. Nada. Nil. Zippo.
Another Blast From The Cannon
That professional crank Christopher Hitchens has struck again. This time his target is the film Master and Commander. I haven't read the O'Brian books, but I'm told that the Tolkien nuts look dispassionate compared to the O'Brian devotees.
Albertan Innovation
This article reminds me of the old Indian (aboriginal North American) notion of making use of everything. This blog wonders if this technology might finally provide our politicians with a legitimate raison d'etre.
Ho Ho Ho
The folks who designed the website for the National Post have made a real mess of things, to the point that searching for a specific article online is an exercise in pointless circularity. Case in point: today I was trying to find an article that was printed in Tuesday's paper, an article by Scott Feschuk that I used, in truly bizarre fashion, when I was teaching The Merchant of Venice. For the life of me, it seems that the site's search engine doesn't bother with matching up search terms with articles. It looks like they didn't bother to put the article in question online, or it's so throughly buried that I can't locate it. Much grumbling can be reported to have come from the Not-So-Good Doctor. The article? A very funny mock Public Service Announcement-- for the bimbos that shake their asses in rap videos,
the unsung heroines of the rise of rap, the women who bared their souls -- and, according to scientists, 84% of the surface area of their bosoms -- to convincingly portray such varied screen roles as the Ho, the Slut, the Dancing Slut, the Slutty Bitch, the Ho-Bitch, the Totally Ho-like Ho and the Bespectacled PhD Candidate (Who Turns Out To Be A Ho).... They were peerless purveyors of not only the Ass Grind but also the Ass Shake, Ass Shimmy, Ass Quake, Ass Shudder, Ass Oscillation (better known in the industry as 'the Assilation') and varying degrees of Ass Palpitation.
The article went on to explain that now these women need our help: many of them now suffer from Repetitive Ass Disorder and Ass Dysplasia. It ends touchingly: "Ladies and gentlemen, I beg of you: Won't you please think of the bitches?" (Yes, this blog adds, please, won't you think of the bitches?)
Anyway, I had hoped to share the entire article here, but evidently I can't as there seems to be no direct link to it. *Sigh* Too bad. It was hilarious.
And don't ask me how I was able to connect Feschuk's plea for the bootylicious with The Merchant of Venice. But I did it. And worse, it made sense. Alas, my puerile genius knows few bounds. But, please, can we all get together and raise money to help The National Post get a decent search engine and compile all their articles in one place: won't you think of the satirists?
13 November 2003
R.I.P.
How sad: Art Carney has died. He was always a fun performer to watch, but he was also capable of some very touching acting: his Oscar for Harry And Tonto was well-deserved. In the above linked article, the writers recount a bit from The Honeymooners that was so funny that I found myself laughing out loud just remembering the bit. He'll be missed.
Dutch Treatment
The Doctor, as most of you know, is always stewing on the problems of pedagogy and course design and other such heady academic matters. But this article suggests a new series of possibilities for, ahem, special needs students. I'm flashing back to Dangerous Liaisons, when John Malkovich says to Uma Thurman, "shall we begin with a few Latin terms?" The Doctor's version, of course, would not service students with Y chromosomes.
The Rack From Hell?
This blog knew it: Jennifer Love Hewitt is the Devil. It's probably a good thing we'll never see the proof, although this blog figures she'd look damn fine in a tight red outfit clutching at a pickfork. Anthony Hopkins is probably thanking his lucky stars, and Stephen Vincent Benet rolling back upright in his grave.
ADDENDUM: What the hell? How did I type 'pickfork'? That should read 'pitchfork.' The Doctor will now acknowledge his latent idiocy and retreat into a corner.
Britney Shakes Spears
I think we all knew deep-down that Britney Spears is cluelessness personified, but this article lets the blonde bimbo extraordinaire demonstrate it fully. This blog's favourite part: "I really rebelled on this record... I really kinda did." Oh, and that she evidently doesn't know what 'daunted' means.
Oh, And By The Way Eisengard Was Destroyed...
What the hell? Apparently Peter Jackson has edited out all of Christopher Lee's scenes from The Return Of The King. It's a rotten slight to a fine actor, but, more importantly, I wonder how the entire Saruman subplot will be resolved? Please, please don't say it's all done with voice-over exposition. *shakes head* No word on whether or not all of Brad Dourif's (Wormtongue's) scenes have been cut as well. Hopefully Lee will dig up his old horror movies and figure out an appropriate way to exact revenge on Jackson and his team.
But Does It Taste Like Grandma?
When I saw this in the National Post this morning I nearly fell over laughing. Wilde was right: art doesn't imitate life, life imitates art.
11 November 2003
Off To Be The Wizard
Oy, yet another Tuesday. This means I have to teach essay writing skills (which, I think, shouldn't be necessary for a junior level course) and begin The Merchant of Venice. It's going to be a busy day today, with two set meetings and my standard pub-based office hours and I'm sure no end of bureaucracy. I'm also debating whether or not to offer to lecture on Merchant next week, mainly because that play poses so many problems for the act of interpretation, especially if one is going to keep matters properly contextualized and avoid the simple and pejorative labels of 'anti-Semitism' and 'racism.' As if to wrap the conundrum in a riddle, Shakespeare's figuration of Shylock is far more complex than Shakie's detractors care to admit, and part of wonders if he's not better understood in relation to Falstaff or Malvolio than 'the stereotype of the vile Jew' (more clearly apparent in, say, Marlowe's The Jew of Malta or even Dickens' Oliver Twist). I would elaborate further but I have to get my non-existent ass in gear and make the odious trip to my beloved Institution-- and by beloved, I mean it more in a Doctor J-definition-of-Toni-Morrison than any other, beloved as in 'all about family, incest, racism, slavery, and rape.' Oooooh, I'm soooooooooo in trouble with PC's out there. Good. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Oh, and yeah: the new Van Morrison album What's Wrong With This Picture? strikes me as a disappointment, more a 'fluff' album than say Down The Road or Back On Top, largely because there are no truly transcendental moments so characteristic of the Belfast Cowboy on it, and because Van's lyrics this time round are pretty weak. But "Once In A Blue Moon" is wonderfully upbeat and infectious, and it reminds me of the piano-driven tunes like "Ivory Tower" (from No Guru, No Method, No Teacher) that he so seldom writes anymore. Not a great album, and not a bad one either, but it's not really much to write home about-- or blog about, for that matter. But "Once In A Blue Moon," "Evening in June" and "Little Village" (which musically recalls "Saint Dominic's Preview," a personal favourite) are good solid tracks. Here's the problem, though: the standards are so much higher for Van; what would constitute a very fine album for almost anybody else tends to seem like coasting for him. Oh well.
Time to get to the grind. Another long, long day beckons. Loudly.
10 November 2003
Fulford Gale
Who knew? Some of the many newspaper columns by Robert Fulford have been gathered together at a central location aptly named robertfulford.com. Of particular interest to this blog: his piece on the diaries of Northrop Frye, on Frye's correspondence with Helen Kemp, and on Falstaff.
I'm Ready For My Post-Traumatic Close-Up, Mr. DeMille...
For any of you sick to death of the fifteen minutes of Elizabeth Smart and Jessica Lynch, check out this article from The National Post by Scott Feschuk. Very funny.
That's About When I'd Be Ready...
This blog suspects the couple in this story were just waiting for the right time.
Now That's What I Call 'Tenacity'
Take a bite out of crime.
And remember: teeth don't kill people, people kill people.
Nepalling Possibilities
This blog knew things were going badly in Nepal, but this article makes pretty plain why we should all be worried about what's happening there.
No Way...
"Let's run this up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes" now has an eerie new Norwegian meaning. *Shudder*
Hunka Hunka Burning Love
Dave Barry says he's not man enough to practice Vodou. After seeing this, I'm inclined to agree: Dave Barry isn't man enough. ;-)
(This blog has a litany of jokes to recite here, but it will, to its own surprise, abstain.)
Boom Boom Boom Boom: Echoes in the Schools
So, do you really want to know how shitty your (Canadian) university is? Well, Macleans has its annual rankings out, and, as usual, the Not-So-Good Doctor's institution has rated quite poorly. This does not surprise. (Nor does it likely surprise any of those that attend same institution.)
On another note, the tenor of the report isn't so much alarming as it is worrisome. The damage to our universities has been extensive, and more extensive than we had presumed. By the way, the admissions minima mentioned in the summary article are inflated: 80s and 90s were given out far too generously, and the secondary school grades are increasingly meaningless. Right, Anne? Right.
Note, too, this disturbing paragraph:
Keep in mind: even at the height of the baby-boom bulge, the biggest year-to-year growth was 25,000. Canada responded by building new universities and filling them, with students and faculty. Now, as the babies of that well-educated baby-boom generation--the echo boom--beat a path to the post-secondary doorstep in record numbers, the faculty who taught their parents are heading in the opposite direction, retiring in record numbers as well. In 1990, there were 532,000 full-time students enrolled in Canadian universities and 36,400 full-time faculty to teach them. This fall? Virtually no change in the number of full-time faculty.
No bloody kidding. Our politicians don't seem to realize that stuffing our schools is not the same as stuffing one's brassiere.
The shape of things to come? Higher tuition, bigger classes, fewer faculty, et cetera. You know: same ole, same ole.
Probably Controversial Aside: It's also probably time we faced facts: as elitist as it may sound, there are far too many people going to university, many of whom shouldn't be there. Universities were never meant to be simply 'that place you went after high school.' At the university level, students ideally should be interested and fully-engaged young thinkers: universities were intended to advance thought, not to provide people with degrees so they can get jobs (more than likely having nothing to do with their purported fields of study). Bah, humbug.
Saud Stories
I saw part of William Sampson's lengthy and painful press conference today, and it was stunning listening to this man's appalling tale of injustice. Like Maher Arar, this man deserves justice, though I suspect he won't get it. Between the Arar, Sampson and Kazemi cases, it seems Canada should fast become the plaintiff in a trial of international criminality. Worse, there are more people-- as Sampson has noted-- we haven't even heard about.
This blog finds all of these stories horrifying, not just in terms of the travesties that occur in them, but also because of the extent of indifferent international cover-up. I don't think we'll ever get the truth from any of the countries involved (Iran, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and the United States), but I cannot help but feel the American gesture the most insidious, because at least the other countries did their own dirty work. Inter arma enim silent leges: In time of war the law falls silent. (One wonders how George W. Bush, after claiming that "The advance of freedom is the calling of our time," would respond were Maher Arar to confront him at a press conference.) Sadly, the American attitude toward international law has been damnable recently.
(This blog is aware that it may seem to be exhibiting the stereotypical Canadian mannerism of anti-Americanism. In rebuttal, this blog should say this: Canada has a series of very serious grievances with the United States of late, none of which seem likely to be addressed. And, frankly, Canada has damned good reasons to be pissed. Word to Dubya and his legion: remember who your friends really are. Picking petty squabbles with Canada, France and Germany makes about as much sense as pissing in your own soup.)
“Those who would sacrifice a little freedom for temporal safety deserve neither to be safe or free.”
--- Benjamin Franklin
Musical Chairs?
Who would have imagined it: a possible act of political nobility???? It can't be...
Side note: the gesture by the Ontario Liberals to deny the NDP official party status was pretty shameless political maneuvering, and undermined Dalton McGuinty's claims to believe in representative democracy. But you have to find it funny that a Tory is emerging as a voice of fairness.
09 November 2003
The Doctor Has Been Good
Yes, he has (for a change). Actually managed to get all caught up on my email and the stuff I had to do for my kids-- and I actually managed to get this blog loaded with some new material! And-- he says hesitantly, aware the utterance could jinx everything-- I've miraculously managed to get my computer to run for an astonishing several hours without crashing. This, of course, required far too much time this morning after a major scare last night which made even accessing my desktop impossible. But-- alas, shock!-- I've managed to get all the shit back inside the horse and even take it out for a ride. Who knew?
Methinks I'll reward myself with watching The Simpsons and then abscond to the Village for a few pints. Methinks I've earned it. Methinks perhaps I should just admit that I might just as well have gone out even with nothing accomplished, but... Mmmmmm.... beer..... Sweet sacred beer...
(Actually, the Dr probably shouldn't, as he's had his share of rewards lately: the new Van Morrison CD, alcoholic treats from Zozo and from Mr. Robeis, and the surprise of surprises, a belated birthday gift from George-- a bottle of 12 year old Chivas, and a bottle of 18 year old Wiser's Very Old (thanks!). But just because my cup runneth over doesn't mean I can't reach for another glass.... Corruption, sweet corruption.... But hey, why the hell am I telling any of you this? And where are all those ellipses coming from? And why am I doing all this in parentheses? And what's with all the questions? What's happening to me? *sigh* Swwwweeet sacred beeeeeerrr.... Mmmmm.... D'Oh!)
Duh...
Oh Lord: Captain Obvious strikes again.
Isn't it comforting to know that our news organizations are out there providing us with up-to-date and informative journalism?
~~Darlin' You Send Me / Honest You Do~~
It goes without saying that somebody's always trying to get a piece of somebody, but this is ridiculous. This blog cannot believe that the unnamed man in this story was only issued a warning. *shakes head in astonishment*
(With apologies to the great Sam Cooke)
No Names But...
More than a few people came to mind when I found this article. You probably know who you are. ;-) It's a terrifying thought, some of you having such power in your hands....
Doctor J will now seriously consider never going near roads again.
~~I Want To Take You Higher~~
Dave Barry's latest column is a hoot, and is worth the read. This blog's favourite bit: Dave's friend's 'tragic childhood accident.'
Plump Jack
There's an interesting (and very lengthy) article from today's NYTimes on the long-standing debate about how to interpret Falstaff, especially in light of the idolatrous proclamations of Harold Bloom in The Invention Of The Human. Bloom, as usual, seems to me to go too far in his indemnification of Falstaff, but the Johnsonian claim of Falstaff's ultimate venereality strikes me as equally unfounded. My feeling on Falstaff is that he's neither to be idolized (or idealized) nor demonized. He represents, at the very least, a Dionysaic possibility for the world that --finally-- cannot be allowed to triumph in the 'new world' that Hal's coronation will create. He eschews the pretensions of other characters in the while, while (very often unintentionally) exposing his own, and this seems to me a profoundly human characteristic; he's the hypocrite who's quick to remind others of their hypocrisy. Falstaff's degeneration in 2 Henry IV is not so much a damning thing as it is suggestive that all such tendencies to appease the lusts and the appetites eventually lead toward the germ of unintentional corruption. Such lusts and appetites are ideals not realities, impossibilities in a world that needs to be governed, in however Machiavellian a fashion, by reason and logic, by prudence and cold sensibility. We're meant, I think, to look on Falstaff with reserved fondness, and with an ounce of tragic inevitability. He's a glory in the moment, but a figure who doesn't accept his own anachronicity. In a way, he's the Platonical poet that has to be exiled from Hal-cum-Henry V's version of The Republic. He's also the voice of the common man, and the teacher whose wisdom must be accepted in part but rejected as practice. When we banish plump Jack, we are indeed banishing all the world, or 'the world' as a kind of Saturnalian locus: we banish him and we banish the simple glories of the world in favour of those things more strictly human, namely reason, logic, honour, and even duplicity, scheming and manipulation.
It'll be curious to hear what Kevin Kline does with the part. Hopefully the reviews will come to my attention when the production appears.
Cool....
From High Fidelity Review:
Ray Charles Duets Coming to SACD
While it's interesting to hear about Media Hyperium's sonic upgrade, the next part of the announcement will be of more interest to SACD fans. According to the studio, they will using the new equipment on upcoming SACD releases on the Sugar Hill and Vanguard labels by Sinead O’Connor, Rodney Crowell and Buddy Guy.
While that is good news, the big news is that Media Hyperium will also be working with Concord Records on the first album on the label by Ray Charles. High Fidelity Review readers will recall that the label recently signed Charles to a recording contract and he appeared on two cuts on the recent single inventory, 5.1 Surround Sound SACD "Out of Sight" by Poncho Sanchez (Concord Picante SACD-1031).
According to Media Hyperium, the upcoming Ray Charles album on Concord Records will also be a 5.1 Surround Sound SACD. It will feature Charles performing a series of duets with major recording artists. Some of the artists that plan to perform with Ray Charles on the album include B.B. King, Billy Joel, Natalie Cole, Diana Krall and Van Morrison. We'll certainly keep an ear to the ground for more information on these upcoming SACDs as they near release.
A duet between Ray and Van should have happened decades ago. (Actually, it has happened, but only in concert, mainly in the English concerts where the two performed together some years ago, concerts I would have died to have seen.) This blog wonders what song they'd choose to do...
But, please, no, not Diana Krall....
Oh Really?
This blog read this headline with a dirty mind and had to share it. :-)
(A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.)
What Price Salvation?
The story of the Maher Arar case desperately needs answers, especially as we consider the so-called notion of a War on Terror, a war that itself is given to terrorizing tendencies. I don't know what's worst in this story: the Canadian government's silence and wilful ignorance, the American government's reprehensible and duplicitous use of torture by proxy, or the blatant abnegation on all sides of international law. And then there's the flimsy (and by no means assuaging) claim that 'things could have been worse' for Mr. Arar had he not held a Canadian passport.
The Canadian goverment needs to get substantial answers and reparations for Mr. Arar from the U.S. government, and to pressure the U.S. to acknowledge its disgusting hypocrisy in this so-called War On Terror. Strange how one form of terrorism is cowardly and evil, while another form is given the stamp of a 'necessary and legitimate action.' Sending a man to be tortured elsewhere in the name of the prosecution of a war on terror isn't justice-- it's the gesture of Pilate washing his hands.
As for the possibility that the US received its information from Canadian intelligence: perhaps, even quite probably. But one wonders if this passing on of information hasn't become a necessity given the new world order created in the wake of September 11th-- and one wonders if Canadian intelligence really fathomed that our southern neighbours would send off a Canadian citizen to be tortured by Syria. After all, what right did the U.S. government have to deport a Canadian citizen to anywhere but Canada? Such tactics aren't governmental: they're more typical of the mafia. Are we re-entering a world of internment and blacklisting, of paranoid scapegoating?
And, of course, the coverage of this story seems to warrant barely a peep in the United States. A few newspaper articles here and there, but nothing (that I've seen, anyway) on the major networks. Gee, I wonder why...
08 November 2003
Pull My Fish
This is for Zozo, news about the anal pores of herring. Ah, those scientists...
Doctor J's favourite bit: "The fish tend to make noise more often when in the company of others, which suggests it plays a social role, the researchers say." This blog wonders if they take to aiming them like all too many people...
Across The Shock
The journeys of this Voyager are far more interesting and more promising than Star Drek's. Voyager is now crossing into a 'place' none of us can even truly imagine.
Yet Another Probably Idiotic Test
Received this today from Kim, and figured: aw, what the hell. Such tests are pretty useless, and more often than not cheap spam, much like Dr. Phil himself. But, whatever....
Supposedly, Dr. Phil scored 55 when he did it on the Oprah Winfrey Show, and the great orca herself supposedly scored a 38.
Doctor J reports a score of 48. (Somewhat surprisingly.)
DR. PHIL'S TEST (Ostensibly...)
Answers are for who you are now...... not who you were in the past.
Have pen or pencil and paper ready. This is a real test given by the Human Relations Dept. at many of the major corporations today. It helps them get better insight concerning their employees and prospective employees. It's only 10 simple questions, so...... grab a pencil and paper, keeping track of your letter answers..
1. When do you feel your best?
a) in the morning
b) during the afternoon &and early evening
c) late at night
2. You usually walk...
a) fairly fast, with long steps
b) fairly fast, with little steps
c) less fast head up, looking the world in the face
d) less fast, head down
e) very slowly
3. When talking to people you...
a) stand with your arms folded
b) have your hands clasped
c) have one or both your hands on your hips
d) touch or push the person to whom you are talking
e) play with your ear, touch your chin, or smooth your hair
4. When relaxing, you sit with...
a) your knees bent with your legs neatly side by side
b) your legs crossed
c) your legs stretched out or straight
d) one leg curled under you
5. When something really amuses you, you react with...
a) big appreciated laugh
b) a laugh, but not a loud one
c) a quiet chuckle
d) a sheepish smile
6. When you go to a party or social gathering you...
a) make a loud entrance so everyone notices you
b) make a quiet entrance, looking around for someone you know
c) make the quietest entrance, trying to stay unnoticed
7. You're working very hard, concentrating hard, and you're interrupted......
a) welcome the break
b) feel extremely irritated
c) vary between these two extremes
8. Which of the following colors do you like most?
a) Red or orange
b) black
c) yellow or light blue
d) green
e) dark blue or purple
f) white
g) brown or gray
9. When you are in bed at night, in those last few moments before going to sleep....
a) stretched out on your back
b) stretched out face down on your stomach
c) on your side, slightly curled
d) with your head on one arm
e) with your head under the covers
10. You often dream that you are...
a) falling
b) fighting or struggling
c) searching for something or somebody
d) flying or floating
e) you usually have dreamless sleep
f) your dreams are always pleasantPOINTS:
1. (a) 2 (b) 4 (c) 6
2. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 7 (d) 2 (e) 1
3. (a) 4 (b) 2 (c) 5 (d) 7 (e) 6
4. (a) 4 (b) 6 (c) 2 (d) 1
5. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 3 (d) 5 (e) 2
6. (a) 6 (b) 4 (c) 2
7. (a) 6 (b) 2 (c) 4
8. (a) 6 (b) 7 (c) 5 (d) 4 (e) 3 (f) 2 (g) 1
9. (a) 7 (b) 6 (c) 4 (d) 2 (e) 1
10. (a) 4 (b) 2 (c) 3 (d) 5 (e) 6 (f) 1
Now add up the total number of points.
OVER 60 POINTS: Others see you as someone they should "handle with care." You're seen as vain, self-centered, and who is extremely dominant. Others may admire you, wishing they could be more like you, but don't always trust you, hesitating to become too deeply involved with you.
51 TO 60 POINTS: Others see you as an exciting, highly volatile, rather impulsive personality; a natural leader, who's quick to make decisions, though not always the right ones. They see you as bold and adventuresome, someone who will try anything once; someone who takes chances and enjoys an adventure. They enjoy being in your company because of the excitement you radiate.
41 TO 50 POINTS: Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out.
31 TO 40 POINTS: Others see you as sensible, cautious, careful & practical. They see you as clever, gifted, or talented, but modest. Not a person who makes friends too quickly or easily, but someone who's extremely loyal to friends you do make and who expect the same loyalty in return. Those who really get to know you realize it takes a lot to shake your trust in your friends, but equally that it takes you a long time to get over if that trust is ever broken.
21 TO 30 POINTS: Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy. They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder. It would really surprise them if you ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment, expecting you to examine everything carefully from every angle and then, usually decide against it. They think this reaction is caused partly by your careful nature.
UNDER 21 POINTS: People think you are shy, nervous, and indecisive, someone who needs looking after, who always wants someone else to make the decisions & who doesn't want to get involved with anyone or anything! They see you as a worrier who always sees problems that don't exist. Some people think you're boring. Only those who know you well know that you aren't.
How The Other Side Lives
Not only is it stunning that the guards didn't catch on, but none of the other inmates figured this out? Someone must be preternaturally small....
Trunkated?
Ya know, it's oddly comforting that one can still learn something new every day, even if one cannot fathom the potential use of such knowledge.
~~There's Somethin' Happenin' Here~~
Doc J's favourite bit in this article: "there was no danger of an explosion."
06 November 2003
Eine Kleine Nacktmusik
As if karaoke weren't disturbing enough in principle, there had to be some idiots who would factor in the Meg Ryan principle.
Art (With Wings?)
Menstrual cycle exhibition features tampons
A London art gallery is to stage an exhibition on the menstrual cycle, featuring sculptures made from tampons.
Lyn Huso's Right On event runs at the Coningsby Gallery in London from November 24 to December 6.
The solo exhibition will feature sculptures made from organic cotton tampons and natural sanitary pads.
They'll be combined with recycled handbags, telephones and bicycles.
Huso says in coming up with her pieces, she's created what she calls 'T.art' work.
The Coningsby Gallery says Huso's art invites debate from both men and women on the age-old taboo of the female menstrual cycle.
Ahem. No comment.
(Actually, this blog thoroughly encourages the free flow of, er, debate. Such exhibits should happen regularly: every twenty-eight days, perhaps?)
For Lust Or Money?
We all knew it was only a matter of time before this, ahem, came about. This blog is relatively sure that this show will redefine the trend of making reality TV show contestants swallow things.
Personal Validation
Damn fucking right.
(It's about time the Falstaffs of the world had a report on theirside.)
Cover Me
Let's face it: looking at this page may lead you to Oedipal eye-gouging.
This blog would also like to nominate this cover just for its truly weird nature.
If The Song Fits, You Must Acquit
From the "Oh My Gawd" file, there's this example of unbelievable stupidity. This blog will resist the temptation to make dead lawyer jokes.
The Long And Winding Home Stretch
Jean Chretien's coda as Prime Minister is becoming fascinating to watch: ever the political player, he remains more capable as a so-called lame duck than many PMs were in their periods of greatest power. What does this mean? Imagine a PM stuck in Richard II's position acting like a populist Richard III, carefully and with great calculation dragging out the period prior to his abdication, all the while laying the groundwork for a very, very difficult time for Paul Martin and his followers, Canada's Bolingbroke and company. Martin and his team have won, so to speak: they've forced Chretien to abdicate, eventually, but Chretien will not go easily, and not without making sure that the head that soon wears the crown will indeed weigh very, very heavy. Martin thinks he can come in with a budget surplus? Nah, JC will make all the allocations before he retires. Martin thinks he can come in with an unrivalled governing party? Nah, the PM has delayed things so long that the opposition parties are slowly starting to organize themselves, and the Liberal party monopoly on popularity seems to be shrinking. Martin wants to be able to distinguish his agenda from Chretien's? Well, okay, he can do it, so long as the first thing that he does when he takes over as PM is to undo all of the pre-abdication promises, like the proposed millions for VIA Rail.
The interesting thing is this: Chretien is not so much razing and salting the ground he's conceding as he is ensuring that Prime Minister Martin will have a bugger of a time following through on his promises, and indeed escaping Chretien's legacy. You wanted the crown, Chretien seems to be indicating to Martin, well, fine, take it and choke on it. Meanwhile, Chretien ambles through his final days, not as Richard II hated by the people, but merely as a dinner guest whose welcome has been overstayed but who is, at last, making his way toward the door. It's brilliant politics, in a way-- and brilliant, especially, in the way that it redefines the idea of the lame-duck leader, and in the way that it exacts a kind of punishment upon the merry band of usurpers.
And we wonder how Chretien, often seeming less articulate even than the epitome of verbal clumsiness George W. Bush, survived so long. He's ingeniously cagey, and yet to the public he never seems so. That sly old bastard.
There's an interesting article in today's Globe and Mail on Chretien's long move toward the door. Yes, loathe him as one might, he is the pro. Martin and his followers are probably wishing they hadn't pushed Chretien's hand so publically: Martin may soon discover that is crown is now lined with thorns.
R.I.P.
Bobby Hatfield-- who with Bill Medley comprised The Righteous Brothers-- has died. Sad, very sad. This blog as struggling with the irony of observing that the poor man has lost that livin' feeling (and, it admits, the crassness of observing it). Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
Still Cashing In
Not that I'd have watched the ceremony with a gun to my head, it is nice to see that the Man In Black continues to receive accolades.
04 November 2003
Another Kick At The Darkness
Oy. Another Tuesday, another class, this one on one of my least favourite of Shakespeare's plays, the vastly overpraised A Midsummer Night's Dream. The play itself is such a trifle, an insubstantiality-- though I have to admit that I'm of the thinking that comedy is probably Shakespeare's weakest genre on the whole. Whee whee, a bunch of fairies, pucks and dejected and denied lovers cavorting about. It doesn't help that the play is now the victim of so many erotomanic (or is that erotomaniacal? food for thought...) modern interpretations that whatever charm the play might have held has now become tainted. For the record, many of my colleagues have similar problems with other plays: a good friend of mine refuses to teach The Tempest because of the heavy-handed self-righteous bull-plop of Po-Co criticism on the play that would turn it into the tragedy of Caliban rather than deal with the play as a romance; another colleague of mine insists on constantly making The Merchant of Venice an anti-Semitic play rather than engage in the debate the play itself generates. Alas, so many critics will not be content until they've sliced, diced and eaten Shakespeare as if he were the sun-god of literature that needed to die for the world to be reborn. Such critics are the bane of my existence. They're not literary scholars or critics as much as they are pedants and polemicists with only a political or ideological interest in Shakespeare (or most other writers, for that matter). God save us from the social scientifiers of literary studies! Or save me, at least. Stephen Greenblatt and his ilk have done so much more harm than good, it seems.
(And yes, my regular readers are muttering in their heads, here he goes again, getting his dander up about the current state of criticism. In my defense, I invoke Eliot from East Coker: "You say I am repeating / Something I have said before. I will say it again." And, I fear, I'll probably be repeating ad nauseum until I begin to see signs of hope: I call it, borrowing from Bruce Cockburn, kicking at the darkness until it bleeds daylight.)
Ah well, at least it's not yet another run through of Twelfth Night. I don't think I could teach that play one more time. Grrrr, arrrgh. Anyway, it's off to go pucking around and bottoming out.
03 November 2003
Big Neddy -- and A Warning About Ya-Yas
You've got to respect Ned Beatty: the man has range. Depending on how you think of him at any given moment, he's the figure of harmless affability as Lex Luthor's sidekick in the Superman movies, or he's the seven minutes of bombastic but hypnotic corporate evangelism in Network, or he's the genial but less-than-honourable father-figure (as he was on Roseanne, or he's perhaps the most famous victim in film history, the poor bastard raped in Deliverance. Right now he's starring in a New York production of Tennessee Williams' Cat On A Hot Tin Roof as Big Daddy, and the NYTimes has a glowing review for his performance, though not for the production entire. The production costars Ashley Judd and Jason Patric (that still strikes me as odd casting on both counts). But it's great to hear that Beatty's been able to find a venue for his abilities: it seems quite some time since I've seen him in anything new.
On another note: I sat through (rather as one sits through a lobotomy) Ashley Judd's The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. The less said the better about that vapid, self-indulgent excuse for a film, except to say that only James Garner comes off with any sort of aplomb. In such a shrill chick-flick he comes in now and again with a quiet gravitas that had the head-relieving effect of several Tylenol 3s. Poor Maggie Smith! How the hell did they drag her into that fetid fiasco of estrogenic apologism? Good rule of thumb: if the book, film, song, or play you're about to experience has the words "Ya-Ya" in it, chances are you're in for a stomach-pumping experience.
Stimulating....
This blog doesn't want to make too much of this, except to say that it would explain a lot if true. Or at least a lot that this blog has known.
This blog will now shut up before it gets itself into real trouble.
The Defective Doctor
It seems the Not-So-Good Doctor may be missing a gene. This will come as little surprise to those who have been claiming for some time that he was a genetic curiousity.
Zey Are Zending Me Zere Cuz I Am Poopoo-lar In Z'A-freaks
It's being leaked that Jean Chretien may step down early to take up a position with the United Nations. Well, it's more altruistic than what our previous PMs have done upon leaving office, although we all know it's a kind of golden parachute and a small return from the UN for Chretien's international lobbying on behalf of Africa. Something tells me, though, that JC will remain as silent in retirement as Pierre Trudeau did.
02 November 2003
Song Title Test (Updated)
Received a few emails today on this 'test' and did it myself. It's more difficult than you'd think.
Pick a band/musician and answer only using that band/musician's
song titles:
Van Morrison (the more earnest version)
1. Are you male or female?: A New Kind Of Man
2. Describe yourself: Tore Down A La Rimbaud
3. How do some people feel about you?: Rave On, John Donne
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Real Real Gone
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: Sweet Thing
6. Where would you rather be?: A Town Called Paradise
7. Describe what you want to be: Satisfied
8. Describe how you live: Into The Mystic
9. Describe how you love: Inarticulate Speech of the Heart
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Hard Nose The Highway
Van Morrison (the ironic version)
1. Are you male or female?: Back On Top
2. Describe yourself: Beautiful Vision
3. How do some people feel about you?: Wild Night
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Why Must I Always Explain?
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: T.B. Sheets
6. Where would you rather be?: Gloria
7. Describe what you want to be: Slim Slow Slider
8. Describe how you live: Listen To The Lion
9. Describe how you love: Naked In The Jungle
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Oh The Warm Feeling
Leonard Cohen
1. Are you male or female?: I'm Your Man
2. Describe yourself: Take This Longing
3. How do some people feel about you?: The Captain
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Bird On A Wire
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: The Sisters of Mercy
6. Where would you rather be?: The Land of Plenty
7. Describe what you want to be: Field Commander Cohen
8. Describe how you live: Tower of Song
9. Describe how you love: Light As The Breeze (or A Thousand Kisses Deep)
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Ain't No Cure For Love
Ray Charles
1. Are you male or female?: What'd I Say? (oddly, only Hey Mister seems to fit here)
2. Describe yourself: You Don't Know Me
3. How do some people feel about you?: I Don't Need No Doctor
4. How do you feel about yourself?: A Fool For You
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: Busted or Here We Go Again
6. Where would you rather be?: Hit The Road Jack
7. Describe what you want to be: That Lucky Old Sun
8. Describe how you live: Still Crazy After All These Years (Paul Simon's originally, but Ray should own this song now)
9. Describe how you love: A Song For You (originally Leon Russell's, but see above)
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Uh-Huh and Shake Your Tail Feather
Bob Dylan
1. Are you male or female?: Man Of Peace
2. Describe yourself: Like A Rolling Stone
3. How do some people feel about you?: Shelter From The Storm
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Jokerman
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: Rainy Day Women # 12 and 35
6. Where would you rather be?: Seeing The Real You At Last or All Along The Watch Tower
7. Describe what you want to be: Precious Angel
8. Describe how you live: I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)
9. Describe how you love: This Wheel's On Fire
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Love Is Just A Four-Letter Word and/or It's All Over Now, Baby Blue
Joni Mitchell
1. Are you male or female?: Blue Boy
2. Describe yourself: River
3. How do some people feel about you?: My Old Man
4. How do you feel about yourself?: The Sire of Sorrow (Job's Sad Song)
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: The Same Situation
6. Where would you rather be?: A Free Man In Paris
7. Describe what you want to be: All I Want
8. Describe how you live: Turbulent Indigo
9. Describe how you love: A Case of You
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Sex Kills and Come In From The Cold
John Lee Hooker
1. Are you male or female?: I'm Bad Like Jesse James
2. Describe yourself: I Cover The Waterfront ("drinkin' black coffee and smokin' 40 cigarettes")
3. How do some people feel about you?: Serves You Right To Suffer
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Never Get Out Of These Blues Alive
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: Kiddio
6. Where would you rather be?: Doin' The Shout
7. Describe what you want to be: Mr. Lucky
8. Describe how you live: Whiskey and Wimmen or One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer
9. Describe how you love: Boom Boom (Boom Boom) aka Bang Bang Bang Bang
10. Share a few words of wisdom: Don't Look Back
The Tory Oligarchy
Why does nothing in this article surprise me? Finance Minister, Shminance Shminister. Damn the torpedoes!
Internet Applications
This blog is sure there are perfectly logical reasons for sites like this one to exist, but it also wonders: who thinks to go on the internet after purchasing this product and thinks, I really have to check out their website? This blog also wonders about the mysterious Stacey who seems to have discovered a new way to exemplify confusion. It is elated, by the way, to read that asbestos has never been used in their products.
(And no, this blog will not explain how it discovered this site.)
The Decay Of Lying
Maureen Dowd's column this morning is about lies, damned lies, but absolutely no statistics.
This blog would like to volunteer Jayson Blair to replace Donald Rumsfeld when the time comes. Or perhaps he should be appointed Information Minister in Iraq?
Good Morning, Little Schoolgirl...
Well, I'm glad they caught the bugger in this story, but doesn't the denouement of this seem like it may have given him fantasy images for years to come? It reminds me a little bit of that scene in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life: "this man is about to die."
Moo, Eh?
All this blog has to say about this is "It's about bloody time." It was one damned cow, for (insert saviour's name here)'s sake.
On a more serious note, the American ban on Canadian beef is just another instance of the absolutely shabby treatment of Canada by the Bush administration. Three years in, he's still snubbing Canada (unlike his predecessors, he has yet to make a trip to Canada, the U.S.'s largest trading partner, even though previous presidents generally made Canada their first state visit) for reasons that seem nothing more than childish. Forgetting to mention Canada after 9/11 in the State of the Union address, the country that took in 90% of the planes destined for American airports-- even though Dubya could find ways to thank Panama? Oy. This not to mention the many, many other intentional snubs by the US government toward Canada: relations between the two countries haven't been this strained at least since the late 1960s. This is disgusting. And flurking unnecessary.
In today's NYTimes, Thomas Friedman writes that "Many Europeans really do believe that a dominant America is more threatening to global stability than Saddam's tyranny." There are, sadly, damned good reasons why Europeans (and Canadians, and much of the rest of the world) think a dominant America is more threatening to global stability than Saddam's regime. For my American readers: with all due respect, your governments of the past fifty years have been as adept with foreign policy as I am with neuroscience. Check out Graham Greene's The Quiet American: Pyle, as a personification of American foreign policy, is gallingly blinkered though generally well-meaning and stunningly oblivious to his own hypocrisies. And yes, many in the Western world do look at the US as Fowler looks at Pyle, as a likeable and earnest enough fellow who really has no idea how dangerous he is to those around him. I'm sorry, my American friends, but this indeed is one of the international legacies of five decades of abominably clumsy foreign policy (c.f., Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Grenada, North Korea, Libya, Angola, Vietnam, Somalia, Cuba, Nicaragua, and Liberia, to say nothing of the tendency to offend and to isolate even 'friendly' nations like France, Germany, South Korea, and Canada). With that track record, no wonder the world doesn't especially believe the US a 'stabilizing' force, or even an overly benevolent one: the US is a lot like Victor Frankenstein, on the verge of creating a monster that no one can ultimately control, a monster of which Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein may only be accidental prototypes.
Ernie and the Spooge
You had to know to know it was only a matter of time before the porn industry did its take on the California recall. My favourite bit: "It's kind of like satirical." *rolls around on the floor in hysterical laughter* "Kind of like." Oh really.
'Bring Us... A Shrubbery!'
Dave Barry's column for the week provides discussion of two things we all need to know about: conjoined walnuts and leg-colonizing trees. And no, the offending trees are not Dutch elms.
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