340 meters per second

Under the whelmed.

2007-09-20T21:09:00.000-04:00

A movie that starts, progresses and ends badly is less disappointing than one which ignites a glimmer of hope before smothering it in a wet blanket of mediocrity. Over the Hedge, the latest star-studded Happy Meal advertisement from the creators of Shrek falls into the latter category.

The movie opens promisingly enough, using the plight of a small collection of woodland creatures as a wedge into the larger issues of urban sprawl and over-consumption. Facing the steady erosion of their natural habitat at the hands of voracious subdivision developers, the furry protagonists must contend with all manner of backyard mayhem; hilarity ensues.

Unfortunately, the early hints of subversive content are quickly revealed to be lies: the film reverts back to form at about the ten-minute mark and we're left with the same stale jokes, thin, stereotyped characters and crappy molded-plastic (landfill-cluttering) toys lining the shelves at Zellers. This film could have been really good but everyone involved just shrugged and walked away. Whatever.

Ironically enough...

2007-09-16T15:08:00.000-04:00

...this Saturday Night Live short was only ever aired once.

Teething and seething.

2007-09-15T20:23:00.001-04:00

When I was in my early 20s, there were two people I really disliked. Which is to say, there were many people I disliked but only two are germane to my point. One was a friend of a friend, a handsome know-it-all with an aloof, impatient demeanour. The other was a professor with a well-earned reputation for irritability, arrogance and dismissive condescension. I would eventually learn that both individuals were in constant pain due to chronic medical conditions.

B's been teething heavily for about a month and a half now. Eight teeth have pushed through the skin but the rest are cusping: perpetually on the verge of blossoming into her mouth, they remain just below the surface, jagged edges pressed against frayed nerve endings.

Although daytime distractions are usually sufficient to keep her smiling and pleasant, evenings are much harder: already exhausted and prone to mood swings, she becomes newly conscious of her throbbing gums and can no longer ignore the constant subdermal assault.

We manage her pain as well as we can, but the stress and fatigue are taking their toll on all of us. I can't wait for this particular phase of toddler-hood to end.

* * *

Speaking of B, for her birthday this year Pacanukeha posted a link to an excellent article in The Guardian. "Ethical shopping is just another way of showing how rich you are" is an acerbic breakdown of the problems inherent to so-called "green consumerism" and the pervasiveness of our sense of entitlement vis-à-vis consumption and property. Succinct, original and merciless in its critique of bourgeois "capitalactivism", this piece is a must-read.

Green consumerism is becoming a pox on the planet. If it merely swapped the damaging goods we buy for less damaging ones, I would champion it. But two parallel markets are developing - one for unethical products and one for ethical products, and the expansion of the second does little to hinder the growth of the first. I am now drowning in a tide of ecojunk. Over the past six months, our coat pegs have become clogged with organic cotton bags, which - filled with packets of ginseng tea and jojoba oil bath salts - are now the obligatory gift at every environmental event. I have several lifetimes' supply of ballpoint pens made with recycled paper and about half a dozen miniature solar chargers for gadgets that I do not possess.

Last week the Telegraph told its readers not to abandon the fight to save the planet. "There is still hope, and the middle classes, with their composters and eco-gadgets, will be leading the way." It made some helpful suggestions, such as a "hydrogen-powered model racing car", which, for £74.99, comes with a solar panel, an electrolyser and a fuel cell. God knows what rare metals and energy-intensive processes were used to manufacture it. In the name of environmental consciousness, we have simply created new opportunities for surplus capital.

I loved you then as I love you still.

2007-09-13T22:26:00.000-04:00

I'm not entirely sure why, but yesterday's post was truncated: my brief review of 300 was made even shorter with the omission of a few paragraphs. I have edited and re-posted the entire piece and it seems to be displaying correctly now.

* * *

Reuters is carrying a short Q&A with Billy Bragg; if you're curious about what he's been up to for the last few years, it's worth a read.

Hi, kids! Today's word is "fascism".

2007-09-12T13:43:00.000-04:00

In 1995, Umberto Eco published a pithy distillation of fascism's essential elements in New York Review of Books and an excerpt has been circulating ever since. Aside from being an insightful and easily-quotable reference source, "Eternal Fascism: 14 Ways of Looking at a Blackshirt" also serves as a great segue into my other points.

* * *

And speaking of militarism, the Iron Man trailer is up: check it out here.

* * *

I caught 300 a while back and my feelings on it are decidedly mixed. While stirring on a technical and esthetic level (the digital effects are gorgeous, striking yet beautifully nuanced), it is those same visuals which made me the most uncomfortable. Much has been said about the film's fascist imagery and rhetoric so I won't add to the din with my own critique; rather, I'll let Susan Sontag's analysis of Leni Riefenstahl's work (from her 1975 text "Under the Sign of Saturn") make the point better than I ever could.

The one thing I will add is this: despite director Zack Snyder's persistent denials of any homophobic intent to his film (necessary in light of the mounting criticism he's faced since the movie's mass release), this quote from "Entertainment Weekly" exposes his true intentions:

The scenes of a bejeweled, long-fingernailed Xerxes offering King Leonidas peace in exchange for "submission" have a decidedly sexual undertone. Snyder says that's not accidental, that it's intended to make young straight males in the audience uncomfortable: "What's more scary to a 20-year-old boy than a giant god-king who wants to have his way with you?"

Snyder deliberately exploited his intended audience's latent homophobia. That's straight up hatemongering, no ifs ands or buts.

From "Under the Sign of Saturn":

All four of Riefenstahl's commissioned Nazi films—whether about Party congresses, the Wehrmacht, or athletes—celebrate the rebirth of the body and of community, mediated through the worship of an irresistible leader.

(...)

Fascist aesthetics (...) flow from (and justify) a preoccupation with situations of control, submissive behavior, extravagant effort, and the endurance of pain; they endorse two seemingly opposite states, egomania and servitude. The relations of domination and enslavement take the form of a characteristic pageantry: the massing of groups of people; the turning of people into things; the multiplication or replication of things; and the grouping of people/things around an all‑powerful, hypnotic leader‑figure or force. The fascist dramaturgy centers on the orgiastic transactions between mighty forces and their puppets, uniformly garbed and shown in ever swelling numbers. Its choreography alternates between ceaseless motion and a congealed, static, "virile" posing. Fascist art glorifies surrender, it exalts mindlessness, it glamorizes death.

(...)

Fascist art displays a utopian aesthetics—that of physical perfection. Painters and sculptors under the Nazis often depicted the nude, but they were forbidden to show any bodily imperfections. Their nudes look like pictures in physique magazines: pinups which are both sanctimoniously asexual and (in a technical sense) pornographic, for they have the perfection of a fantasy.

It's a little messier in real life.

2007-09-11T23:35:00.000-04:00

Lies, damned lies...

2007-09-09T22:42:00.000-04:00

Canwest papers recently ran a piece on the increase in female federal bureaucrats. While interesting, the data needs to be read in a very particular context.

In 1995, men represented 54.1 per cent of all "core" public administration employees. By 2006, the situation had reversed with women representing 54.2 per cent of core public administration employees, according to a Statistics Canada report released yesterday.

The study looked at employees of the Treasury Board, which excludes the military, RCMP, crown corporations and the Canada Revenue Agency.

That last sentence is absolutely crucial, as it significantly restricts the statistics' scope; furthermore, it has less to do with a change in hiring practices and more to do with a sharp rise in layoffs and outsourcing of male-dominated positions.

Plus, all this happened under Liberal governments... I wonder what the numbers will look like in five years?

* * *

The Arts & Crafts label, home to indie luminaries like the Stars, Broken Social Scene, Feist, the Hidden Cameras, the Dears and others, has a nice collection of videos available for download on their site. I'm especially fond of BSS' "Almost Crimes" with its herky-jerky silhouettes and the low-rent charm of Amy Millan's "Skinny Boy".

Animated? It's barely moving.

2007-09-08T19:34:00.000-04:00

Put off by the hype, we resisted watching Happy Feet until just recently; we should have given it a pass entirely. Although the animation is excellent, the story is more of the same regurgitated tripe found in every other kids' movie out there. Crassly capitalizing on the success of La marche de l'empereur, this saccharine cash grab is poorly-edited, sloppily-scored and ultimately nothing more than a product tie-in waiting to happen. A boring hodgepodge of lazy cultural references, predictable conflicts (and inevitable resolutions) and tired ethnic stereotypes, Happy Feet left me stone cold and I stopped watching halfway through.

For the record, why is Rosie O'Donnell's over-the-top caricature of Chinese mannerisms correctly identified as racist idiocy while Robin Williams' over-the-top caricature of Latino mannerisms given a prominent role in a children's movie? Anyone?

Hoodwinked! stands head and shoulders above Happy Feet, though that isn't saying much. This clever and amusing take on a familiar story suffers from uneven pacing and a somewhat anticlimactic ending, but didn't leave me feeling like I'd wasted my time after watching it.

Steering clear of many hackneyed children's-movie tropes, Hoodwinked! features a fun story, interesting characters and excellent voice acting. Put together outside the mainstream studio system on a shoestring budget, the movie has real heart and endeared itself to me despite its flaws. Recommended.

Tiny terrors.

2007-09-07T21:30:00.000-04:00

We're in one of those transitional parenting periods where our offspring is clearly on the cusp of a new, exhilarating chapter in her life and we get to watch our tenuous grip on childrearing falter and fail as all of our recently-acquired skills become obsolete. Just when we were beginning to feel like we could handle a baby, she went ahead and metamorphosed into a toddler.

I wonder if this is how Truman felt when the Russians detonated their first nuke.

She's been walking for about four months now, but her climbing and rappelling skills have recently improved dramatically. This, combined with an innate, unshakeable confidence that a less charitable observer might characterize as foolhardiness, has forced me to completely overhaul a living space I had only recently decided was child-proof. My naiveté shames me.

Her motor skills are such that, upon stepping outside and being set free on the front lawn of our apartment building, she immediately bolts for the sidewalk and makes a beeline for the nearby park. This secluded play area behind our building has become her sanctum sanctorum and now that she can make her way there under her own power, any obstacle to her play &mdash present company included &mdash is met with the raw, full force of her teeth-gnashing fury.

Teeth... oh cripes, don't get me started on her teeth...

* * *

Pacanukeha links to a riveting article which appeared in a recent issue of New Republic: "Death Grip" explores a remarkable theory put forward by a small group of political psychology scholars and lays out a clear blueprint for the manipulation of fear on a massive scale.

Bush carried West Virginia and won the election partly because he ran a better campaign than John Kerry. But that wasn't the only reason. There was something odd about the support for Bush in places like West Virginia. Unlike voters in New York City, voters in Martinsburg had little to fear from terrorist attacks; yet they backed Bush, while New Yorkers voted for Kerry. If gay marriage were legalized, Martinsburg would be unlikely to host massive numbers of same-sex weddings; yet voters I talked to were haunted by the specter of gay marriage.

Some pundits have tried to explain away this mystery by arguing that Bush backers voted for their values rather than their interests. But this explanation is unsatisfying, since many of those voters didn't opt for "family values" in 1992 and 1996, when the country elected a well-known philanderer as president.

In fact, many political scientists can't begin to explain what took place in West Virginia in 2004. In recent years, the field has become dominated by rational choice theorists, who have tried to develop complex mathematical equations to predict voting behavior. These equations rest on a view of voters as calculating consumers choosing a product on the basis of relative cost and utility--a view that generally leaves little room for the possibility of voters acting irrationally.

There is, however, one group of scholars--members of the relatively new field of political psychology--who are trying to explain voter preferences that can't be easily quantified. The best general introduction to this field is Drew Westen's recent book, The Political Brain, but the research that is perhaps most relevant to the 2004 election has been conducted by psychologists Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, and Tom Pyszczynski. In the early 1980s, they developed what they clumsily called "terror management theory." Their idea was not about how to clear the subways in the event of an attack, but about how people cope with the terrifying and potentially paralyzing realization that, as human beings, we are destined to die. Their experiments showed that the mere thought of one's mortality can trigger a range of emotions--from disdain for other races, religions, and nations, to a preference for charismatic over pragmatic leaders, to a heightened attraction to traditional mores. Initially, the three scholars didn't attempt to apply their theory to elections. But, after September 11, they conducted experiments designed to do exactly that. What they found sheds new light on the role that fear of death plays in contemporary politics--and, arguably, goes a long way toward unraveling the mystery of Martinsburg.

The complete article may be found here and I urge you to give it a read; it's a compelling, thought-provoking article.

...but I know what I like.

2007-09-06T21:53:00.000-04:00

If you've visited this space recently, you may have noticed major changes in the entire aesthetic; changes which have been &mdash for the moment &mdash rolled back in favour of the current, "classic" look. The long and short of it is that I currently have neither the time nor the inclination to grapple with a new site layout. Unlike Steenblogen, my HTML-fu isn't up to the task. Perhaps I'll try again.

* * *

Speaking of Steenblogen, she forwarded me a fascinating Washington Post article which brilliantly illustrates the importance of context when consuming, digesting and appreciating art. "Pearls Before Breakfast" is a poetic deconstruction of "art appreciation", a gentle dismantling of a performer's complacency and a powerful criticism of our culture's relentless annexation of the individual's sense of play and higher aesthetic sensibilities.

No-octane filler.

2007-09-05T21:46:00.000-04:00

As I've already said, with reserved time blocks for media consumption occurring almost every afternoon, I find myself gâté: I can afford to sift through some of the second-and third-tier stuff I wouldn't otherwise bother with. Although occasionally rewarding, more often than not I find myself cutting out of crappy movies halfway through.

Somewhere a production team assembled a flip-book made from still photographs documenting the end result of a pack of simians encouraged to doodle in piles of their own feces. After thumbing through said flip-book, it was agreed that surely something so intellectually rigorous was too demanding for the average North American moviegoer and couldn't we possibly dumb it down a shade? Enter Crank.

I think I dozed off midway through Underworld: Evolution: all I remember is black pleather, ridiculous gunplay and snow-covered forests. If you enjoyed the original movie, rent it again instead of watching the inane, yawn-inducing sequel.

I love you, can I eat your guitar?

2007-08-29T00:19:00.000-04:00

I think most Canadians over the age of say, 25 or so probably remember this PSA from the early '90s. For some reason the jingle recently surfaced in my memory and after looking it up on YouTube, I showed it to B. I don't think "obsessed" is to strong a descriptor to attach to her subsequent behaviour: we probably watched it a hundred times in the first week and even now she likes to watch it a couple of times a day.

For your amusement and edification:

This shit is bananas.

2007-08-28T00:49:00.000-04:00

Criticizing hypersexual commercials for fashion and/or beauty products seems both quaint and quixotic: the entire marketing endeavour is premised on titillation and endorphin production by proxy... but come on.

Really, Gwen? Really?

"I Want You All Over Me" &mdash indeed.

Non est disputandum

2007-08-27T22:08:00.000-04:00

Fugazi and All Saints; lentils and hard maple candy; Terry Brooks and C.S. Lewis... quality and appeal share an ambiguous relationship. In other words, one often says, "[product A] is of a superior quality to [product B] and yet &mdash while I enjoy consuming [product A] &mdash I prefer [product B]."

To wit:

The Good Shepherd feels like a particularly well-written textbook: weaving a complex narrative from strands of history, political theory, economics and dramaturgy, the film presents a detailed, nuanced account of the CIA's inception. It's also unevenly-paced, dry as chalk and a bit unsure of its thesis.

Directed by Robert De Niro, the film chronicles the birth of the CIA in the wake of World War II and the emergence of what would come to be dubbed the Cold War. De Niro is clearly trying to create a psychological landscape of epic scale, to match the vast cultural and philosophical implications of counterintelligence work. Comparisons to The Godfather were inevitable and to a certain degree warranted, but there's an arid, ascetic quality to this movie which inhibits the complete identification required for the objective correlative loop to close. Nevertheless, this remains a compelling, intricately crafted film capable of sustaining multiple viewings.

* * *

Shooter is predictable, self-important and a waste of some genuine talent... and yet I enjoyed it quite a bit.

Mark Wahlberg's natural charisma drew me into the paradoxically claustrophobic world of the scout sniper: alone in broad expanses of wilderness and forced by necessity and circumstance to confine their perceptions to a pinhole of light, a single trajectory and a destination roughly the size of a golf ball. Although I'd seen it all before &mdash the First Blood parallels were particularly striking &mdash I was interested and engaged by this movie (almost against my better judgment).

So I watched The Good Shepherd...

2007-06-30T01:40:00.000-04:00

Synchronicious

2007-06-29T21:06:00.000-04:00

B will never know a life without portable music; on the contrary, the explosive popularity of portable media devices (alongside her good fortune at being born to a pair of tech-savvy, music-obsessed parents) guarantees a scored future. As long as she's smarter than her old man and doesn't autoinduce tinnitus, I'm excited for her. There's nothing like that moment when the soundtrack synchs with the moment at hand, bringing everything into relief.

A couple of weeks ago, I drove my dad to the airport. I was borrowing his car while he was away and while I was grateful for the loan, his cigarette lighter's broken, which means that my iPod car-radio adapter is useless. Fumbling through his console compartment turned up an unmarked blank tape and, crossing my fingers, I popped it in.

I was rewarded with an audio flashback from yesterdecade: the Matthew Good Band's jangly, crashing dissection of adolescent awkwardness, "Generation X-Wing" &mdash great driving song. With the sunroof open and the engine humming at 2500 rpms, life was pretty sweet for the next four and a half minutes.

After the sun had gone down and C had started in on the Sysiphian task of putting B to bed, I dropped my own car off at the garage and was walking home along Sherbrooke street. Aggressive sifting of my digital playlist revealed the Stones' "Laugh, I Nearly Died" as the perfect accompaniment to a lonely late-night stroll.

* * *

And sometimes the msic and the moment are so comletely out of synch, it's crushing: vid Stewart Copeland's reaction to his little indie band's first gig on their current tour.

Keep it locked.

2007-06-12T22:24:00.000-04:00

Our handheld portal into current media isn't just a repository for movies and TV: I'm actually listening to music, too. Thanks to CBC Radio 3's weekly podcast, I've managed to stay on top of the ever-evolving, ever-expanding Canadian independent music scene. I hate to sound like the show's mascot, but it really is a great resource for someone with neither the time nor the cash to keep abreast of new bands in the traditional way (i.e. buying new records every week).

Edmonton's Cadence Weapon, Juno-winning K'naan, and lyrical alt-country/folk dream team Po'Girl are some of my favourite discoveries, but there are jewels in every 'cast and at an hour a week, you can definitely afford the time to give it a listen.

Johnny Cash's final performance: July 5th, 2003.

2007-06-09T00:54:00.000-04:00

The devil's in the details.

2007-06-08T20:30:00.000-04:00

Pac always has the best oddities: have a look at CatCam for a feline's perspective on the world. Strangely compelling.

* * *

Speaking of grass-eye views of the world, Seed Magazine has a neat insert this month: a "Photosynthesis Crib Sheet" (available as a GIF and PDF).

This Cribsheet covers the basics of photosynthesis: where it happens, how light is used in the process, and why we think photosynthesis may have triggered the rise of complex life. In addition, we tell you why plants are green and how photosynthesis could temper climate change—if rainforests and oceanic ecosystems aren't destroyed.

* * *

Remember: Neid zu fühlen ist menschlich, Schadenfreude zu genießen teuflisch.⁽¹⁾

Back before [Judge] Sauer on Friday, [Paris] Hilton's entire body trembled as the final pitch was made for her further incarceration. She clutched a ball of tissue, and tears ran down her face.

Seconds later, the judge announced his decision: "The defendant is remanded to county jail to serve the remainder of her 45-day sentence. This order is forthwith."

Hilton screamed.

Eight deputies immediately ordered all spectators out of the courtroom. Hilton's mother, Kathy, threw her arms around her husband, Rick, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Deputies escorted Hilton out of the room, holding each of her arms as she looked back.

⁽¹⁾ "To feel envy is human, to enjoy schadenfreude is devilish." (Arthur Schopenhauer)

City of bricks, city of marble.

2007-06-03T22:17:00.000-04:00

Atia of the Julii: You. Leave this house this moment.
Glabius: I will not! Octavia's my rightful wife.
Atia of the Julii: You defy Caesar?
Glabius: A fig for Caesar!
Atia of the Julii: By the five Furies, if I was not a gentle woman, I would have you flayed, and hung from a bracket at the door!

Lest I've created the wrong impression with my lukewarm reviews of Extras and Primeval, I don't have anything against BBC productions; on the contrary, I'm excited by a lot of the Beeb's recent output. To wit: Rome, the electrifying historical epic that's had every imaginable critical laurel thrown at its feet.

Operatic in scope, the two seasons tell the story of Julius Caesar's rise, fall and legacy. Featuring a large principal cast and a literal army of extras, Rome presents its namesake metropolis in all its soiled, battered glory: senators, slaves and soldiers rub shoulders in its graffiti-marked streets while plots majestic and petty are hatched and executed with alarming regularity.

Polly Walker has received the most attention for her mesmerizing turn as the manipulative, ambitious, cheerfully amoral Atia. Both seductive and repugnant, Atia is a complex and dynamic character; Walker received back-to-back Golden Globe nominations for her performance. when she's on-screen, one can't turn away and when she's absent one wonders what the hell she's up to. Much more than just a femme fatale, Atia is one of the most compelling characters I've seen on television in ages and Walker's career-worthy monologues are reason alone to tune in.

Atia's nemesis, the regal Servilia, is sophisticated and mannered with an astonishing capacity for grudge-bearing. Brought to life by the fantastically talented Lindsay Duncan, the character is based on Servilia Caepionis, a well-known historical figure. Lover to Julius Caesar, she danced on the shadow-webs of noble intrigue and played a vital role in several backroom plots. Her venomous feud with Atia of the Julii is a major subplot during Rome's first season: enthralling and occasionally heartbreaking, their courtly war is a knife-dance of epic proportions.

I really could go on and on and on and on and on but the simple reality is that Rome is hands-down one of the top five shows I have ever watched, in any genre, ever.

That funky little monkey with the tiniest ears.

2007-05-28T11:04:00.000-04:00

I'm writing this while slowly rocking back and forth, rhythmically shifting my weight from one foot to another to soothe my ten-month-old daughter sleeping strapped to my chest. The laptop is braced against a small pile of diapers, I'm exchanging rapid-fire text messages with C via my cell and the iPod is in my left hand, soothing me with the third season of Scrubs. It's oddly comforting to know that I can still get my multitask on.

* * *

Speaking of the little prodigy, did I mention she's walking? No? Maybe I got distracted by her awesomeness: the aura of power she exudes oscillates somewhere between γ (Gamma rays) and HX (Hard X-rays) on the electromagnetic spectrum. It's too early to nail down the specifics, but this new "AB" (Awesome Berlynne) frequency is said to be blinding to the naked eye and indeed may permanently damage the cornea.

First steps at 34 weeks, power-walking from one end of the apartment to another at 40 weeks, whooping your ass at the free-throw line on her first birthday.

roflcopters

2007-05-27T00:24:00.000-04:00

Thanks, Pac.

You have the right to whatever they give you.

2007-05-26T20:46:00.000-04:00

Interesting legal tidbit: did you know that, according to both the constitution and the Supreme Court, one is not necessarily entitled to be represented by a lawyer in court? From an article over at Macleans.ca:

Canadians have no constitutionally guaranteed right to a lawyer in all legal proceedings they undertake, says the country's top court.
(...)
The high court said that, although it may be easy to sympathize with that assertion, there is no constitutional foundation for the claim.

The entire (brief) CP article is available here (will launch a new window).

The issue was raised by Dugald Christie, a BC lawyer who spent much of his professional career crusading for increased access to legal services; he argued that the huge expense associated with legal action removes the possibility of justice for the poor. In its 9-0 decision, the Supremes disagreed with him, stating that if they supported his arguments, they'd be opening the door to further arguments that the federal government had a mandate to establish a nationwide legal aid system, which just be too damned expensive.

Better by far for justice to remain a commodity made valuable by scarcity.

And yet so little.

2007-05-25T21:47:00.000-04:00

One of the benefits of being forced into silent, solitary inaction by circumstance (read: a child with very particular sleeping habits) is the development of a daily time block reserved exclusively for the consumption of media. I can even afford to watch movies which, far from being on my 'must-see' list, only vaguely interest me. Case(s) in point:

* * *

If Nick Love were a little smarter, The Business could have been a brilliantly self-aware, hyper-generic doubleback on gangster iconography, the shallowness of every cinematic representation of 1980s-era shallowness and North America's perpetual motion cultural-regurgitation machine.

Instead, it's just one more boring, vacuous ode to greed, consumption, a loosely-defined criminal ethos and the (ubiquitous in this genre) perils of cocaine. Like Jarhead, this movie cannibalizes its betters and, after 97 minutes of digestion, leaves you with a steaming pile of stolen imagery and Disneyfied cultural touchstones.

Foreshadowing future tragedies (or refuting my entire point, depending on your point of view), star Danny Dyer provided the voice of GTA: Vice City's slimey limey, Kent Paul.

* * *

And then there's Art School Confidential, a shamelessly self-conscious romp through the tiny, navel-gazing world of... well, art school. Neither particularly offensive nor particularly interesting, this movie didn't leave much of an impression on me. The script is fine, the performances decent enough and the satirical barbs are spot-on (even if it is shooting fish in a barrel).

Without any punch or point, Art School Confidential left me dry and shrugging; YMMV.

29 degrees in the shade.

2007-05-24T22:26:00.000-04:00

The idea of four distinct, mutually-exclusive seasons has always been a myth in Montréal: we have summer, winter and two brief, blurry transitional periods (April is muddy, November is sleety). Case in point: three weeks ago I was wearing a heavy, lined leather coat in the middle of the afternoon; now I'm sitting in my skivvies at 10:30 at night, sticky and slightly dehydrated.

I never get tired of summer: during the worst heat waves &mdash with the lethargy-inducing, strength-sapping, headache-fueling mugginess endemic to summers in this city &mdash I still can't bring myself to complain.

After all, the alternative is January.

Naturally, B's loving the weather: trees have buds on them, flowers are blooming all around her like fireworks frozen mid-burst and she can leave the house without being bundled in a quad-layer endothermic exoskeleton. Our new ritual of an evening walk after supper is one of the high points of her day: finally, an opportunity to mingle with the commoners! Watching her smile and wave at everyone she passes is pretty awesome, especially when random strangers &mdash other children, usually &mdash wave back. It's hard to remain completely absorbed in your own private misanthropic neuroses when a giggly ten-month-old is signalling, "hey! Let's be friends, even if only for a second!"

Bring on the CGI and the rubber suits!

2007-05-18T20:49:00.000-04:00

Aside from the fact that they're both British shows, Primeval and Extras couldn't be more different: the former lacks everything that makes the latter such a critics' darling: the humour is broad, the dialogue is unabashed expositional gobbledygook, each episode's plot telegraphs itself during the opening credits, the characters are laughably generic stereotypes and instead of awkward, nuanced social dilemmas, the protagonists are plagued by gargantuan, bloodthirsty, prehistoric beasts.

Natuarlly, we can't wait for the second series of Primeval.

Too much?

2007-05-16T21:00:00.000-04:00

In stark contrast to Entourage, Extras follows the lives of a pair of lowly "actors" (I use the term in the broadest possible sense) as they struggle against misfortune, the vagaries of celebrity and their own colossally poor judgment.

Ricky Gervais' post-Office pet project drew wide acclaim during its two-season run and it, like The Office, is de rigueur viewing for the hipster set. Unfortunately, the show relied too heavily on the "star-of-the-week" gimmick for its laughs: with a few notable exceptions &mdash Kate Winslet, Patrick Stewart and Orlando Bloom all shine &mdash the guest stars don't mesh well with the regular cast and the humour feels stilted and forced. C and I watched all twelve episodes and we agree: with the above exceptions, the show is a tepid little wankjob.

However, Kate Winslet is hilarious.

Has her own weather system.

2007-05-15T21:57:00.000-04:00

Even with the pediatric nurses regularly filling in little booklet the hospital provided us, it's still hard for me to fathom B's growth: she's a colossus. Her soft skull skirts the stratosphere and every hesitant step sets the very earth a-tremble. Eighteen months ago she was a single-celled organism and now, with one sweep of her massive palm, she can pull down a shelf of first-edition graphic novels. Life: it's a miracle, but it has no respect for genius in the comics medium.

Every stage of her development has been photographed, filmed (most mediated baby ever) and discussed with friends, family and health professionals, and yet it still seems like she went from baby chick to roc overnight.

I'm trying to teach her to say "fee fi fo fum" but it keeps coming out as "ba ba ba".

Hug it out.

2007-05-14T21:24:00.000-04:00

B naps best when she's snuggled inside a carrier strapped to my body, so I spend two to four hours a day doing deep-knee bends with a 20-pound weight buckled to my sternum.

Our little cream-coloured iGod rides shotgun during her siestas and it's not only kept me sane, I think I'm actually more in the media loop than I was a year ago.

To wit: I finally had a chance to watch the first two-and-a-half seasons of HBO's critically-acclaimed fluff, Entourage. Loosely based on executive producer Mark Walhberg's experiences in Hollywood, the show chronicles a young star's rise to fame and his misadventures in the company of his three closest friends.

The show is quick, light and frothy and isn't trying to say anything about, well, anything. I probably wouldn't have kept watching if it wasn't for Jeremy Piven, who's a revelation as the hyperaggressive, motormouthed agent to star Vincent Chase. Much like Oliver Platt's relentlessly self-destructive lawyer in the otherwise staid Huff, Piven burns up the screen with his predatory, type-A narcissist. He's the only reason I kept watching the first season and even now, when I'm somewhat invested in the characters and story, he's still hands-down the best part of any given episode.

Far from brilliant, Entourage is nevertheless quick, glossy, snappy, often funny and usually finished before you know it.

Head to head.

2007-05-08T21:40:00.000-04:00

In the mood for a little conflict? Neither of these videos feature any literal bloodshed but they're both knock-down, drag-out battle royales:

Master Chief versus Samus Aran;

Ségo versus Sarko;

Shoryuken!

2007-05-04T19:42:00.000-04:00

Pacanukeha forwarded this fascinating article on a Stanford research team's findings when they hooked a tai chi master up to sophisticated motion-capture gear. The money quote:

Jessica Rose, an orthopedic surgery professor at Stanford, could not believe her eyes.
Tai chi master Chen Xiang, sensor balls taped to key body joints, was demonstrating palm, elbow and fist strikes so fast &mpersand and with such force &mpersand that the sensors kept flying off his body.
And then she glanced at her computer screen, where Chen's movements were mirrored by an animated stick figure. Like a light-footed dancing skeleton, the figure's grace was undeniable. And frightening. The explosive power of the strikes was stunning - 400 pounds of force generated by Chen's body accelerating from 0 mph to 60 mph in 2.8 seconds - faster than any Lamborghini out on the street.

Keep the lid on.

2007-05-01T21:55:00.000-04:00

If anyone else has seen Jarhead, can you explain it to me? Rather, explain why it was necessary to produce an un-ironic rehash of every two-bit war flick released in the last 25 years?

I don't get it, I really don't: this paper-thin melodrama offers no new insight into war, its purveyors, victims or profiteers; there's no "seat of your pants" battle scenes; no oily fetishization of the toys for the techheads... really, why did anyone bother showing up on set?

I didn't dislike the movie &mdash Gyllenhall and Peter Sarsgaard are both pretty good &mdash I just really didn't get it: we've all seen this movie already.

Snowballing.

2007-04-26T16:50:00.000-04:00

B's been ex utero for nine months now, and she hasn't wasted a moment: every day, I can practically feel the extra ounces accruing on her muscular frame. From her healthy (though, in hindsight, impossibly small) birth weight of 3.1 kg, she's ballooned to a powerful, sinewy 9.4 kg (and counting). Her musculature is developing before my eyes and I watch her features change seemingly on a daily basis -- though she retains her mother's expressive brow, generous giggle and prehensile toes.

B's growth was so rapid, her frame so delightfully chubby, that C used to joke about expressing 35% cream, and I think there's something to it. Breast milk is a freaking wonder food and I for one am distressed that no equivalent substitute exists for adults. Antibacterials, immunizing agents, complex proteins... magic. I gotta get me some of that.

Bleak Houses.

2007-04-25T22:52:00.000-04:00

One of the first shows I downloaded for iPod viewing was Huff, an ensemble drama developed by the perpetually-underrated Hank Azaria for Showcase. After watching Blythe Danner win back-to-back Emmys for her role on the show, C and I were both curious as hell about this much-lauded series we'd never heard of.

Ostensibly a drawing-room tragicomedy about a psychiatrist's extended midlife crisis, Huff features a phenomenal cast (Azaria and Danner are joined by the smoldering Paget Brewster, charmingly precocious Anton Yelchin and powerhouse Oliver Platt), chewing their way through thick, meaty roles with gusto. Unfortunately, the series collapses under the weight of its characters' psyches, imploding like a narrative black hole.

I feel I should reiterate that this is a well-written, well-scripted show with a dynamite cast. The characters are real, three-dimensional people brought to life by skilled and talented actors; in addition to Danner's sublime work, Platt deserves special mention for his scene-stealing portrayal of the relentlessly self-destructive best friend/devil's advocate.

Huff grapples with some heavy issues in its first season — suicide, survivor's guilt, professional accountability, incest, alcoholism, adolescent sexuality, etc. — Though initially mesmerizing, the récit succumbed to the combined mass of the characters' neuroses and over time I became less and less motivated to watch. Also — and on an entirely personal note — watching the disintegration of a happy marriage is depressing as hell. At the conclusion of the first season, I surrendered: the second season remains on my hard drive, unwatched (and perhaps unwatchable).

If there'd been a touch more comedy in the mix, a less cynical sense of humour applied to the situations, I probably would've relished another go 'round; as it is, I'm content to let the story end in mid-sentence.

C'mon little girl, put that down.

2007-04-18T21:53:00.000-04:00

As our daughter approaches the point where her time spent out of the womb will equal her time spent in it, I'm transfixed by her learning process(es). Whether it's opening my cellphone and thumb-dialing in order to keep the screen lit, using both hands to take a swig of water in between mouthfuls of sticky cereal or just old-fashioned crawling, each developmental milestone impresses the hell out of me. Coming, as they do, after many half-starts and missteps, these achievements are hard-won signs of a robust and rapidly-maturing creature whose astounding potential is matched only by her terrifying fragility.

I'm not just impressed by my kid — though she is awesome beyond description — I'm blown away by the human form.

I wear my sword at my side.

2007-04-09T20:53:00.000-04:00

When friends learned that we were ~~courting disaster~~ becoming parents, we were peppered with all kinds of dire prognostications and instructions to bid a fond farewell to the chief currency of the childless: leisure time. "Say goodbye to X," we were told, "because you won't be savouring any of that for a looong while;" where X stood for sex, novels, music not specifically made for developing ears, movies, TV, etc.

I am pleased to report that this, as with a great deal of advice we've received, is a load of crap.

Granted, our ability to continue consuming the media we love is entirely dependent on smooth-edged digital totems lovingly wrapped in satin-lined bags. These wonderful little talismans &mdash specifically, the 60Gb video iPod C lovingly, presciently, wonderfully got me for Christmas &mdash have allowed us to keep up with movies, TV and (to a lesser extent) music. A constant companion to C while she nurses and me while babygirl naps in the saddle, this device has been our 3-square-inch portal into pop culture.

Through it, we've watched dozens of movies and entire seasons of shows we'd have otherwise missed, alleviating some of the inevitable sense of isolation that comes with becoming new parents and finding oneself marooned in the living room &mdash at least during the claustrophobic winter months.

"Peep!"

2007-03-20T20:57:00.000-04:00

I never cease to be amazed by our endless capacity for acclimatization. It seems that no matter how radically our situations may change, how sudden or unexpected the transformation(s) may be, we somehow learn to cope. To wit: I thought I knew from sleep-deprived. Now I have a seven-and-three-quarter-month-old reality check schooling me in what sleep deprivation really means. And yet, somehow I have learned to cope. Last night I fell asleep around 1:30 and woke up around 4:30 to start my day -- which at 21:20 is neither finished nor waning -- and that doesn't constitute a bad night.

That's right: three hours of sleep doesn't rate as "bad." It may not be good, but at least they were consecutive and blissfully devoid of consciousness. I take what I can get and thank fortune for the favour.

* * *

I love being a dad. It's awesome like Spaceman Spiff and a fresh roll of Sweet Tarts and the Blade Runner's opening fly-by and

The Operative: Do you know what your sin is?
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: Aw hell, I'm a fan of all seven... but right now, I'm gonna have to go with Wrath.

and falling in love and feeling the gear shift because you willed it and rippling the one block down from Amoeba Records to Golden Gate Park and hammocks in June and dawn in January and panting lakes and I'm still not used to how much I love being a dad.

Intermediate.

2006-10-27T19:44:00.000-04:00

Narrowing options.

2006-06-07T21:39:00.000-04:00

Finding Nemo was hailed by audiences and critics alike as a brilliant picture for all ages and, in our continuing quest to find movies we can watch with Blasty, C and I checked it out a few weeks ago.

Michael Hanscom's breakdown of the relentless sexism in these flicks kinda pre-empts my own criticisms, but it still bears being said that what passes for female "characters" in these ninety-minute toy commercials is a sick joke. Every woman in this movie is either deranged or murdered in the first scene... I actually think Pixar's treatment of women is actually getting worse with time. I thought Toy Story was bad enough, but wiht every new film, the studio is painting themselves further and further into an indefensible chauvinist corner.

Crusades.

2006-06-05T22:18:00.000-04:00

We arrived home last night, exhausted and laden with much-needed baby booty. C's family was unbelievably generous: with a few exceptions (stroller being chief among them), our shopping list is closing in on "done."

We lucked out with the weather yesterday, too: clear skies, bright sun, warm winds and light traffic made for a relatively easy drive. C even decided to commemorate the trip with a shot of the sun dipping into the ground:

* * *

From the annals of Stormtrooper Academy: Zaman Online ("first Turkish paper on the Internet") reports that while butchering innocents at Haditha, US marines also managed to murder the first cousin of Samir Sumaidaie, Iraq's ambassador to the US.

You gotaa give the marines credit, man: people said that Abu Ghraib would go down as the worst clusterfuck of the Iraq war but those never-say-die leathernecks just raised the bar for human rights abuses. Top that, Rumsfeld.

Reprise.

2006-06-02T08:03:00.000-04:00

The Caledonia debacle isn't going away soon, for better or for worse: Ontario Superior Court Justice David Marshall, who originally ordered the province's attorney general and provincial police to evict native protesters back in March, has summoned everyone back to explain themselves. The complete CBC article may be found here.

Marshall's the one who precipitated this most recent debacle with his heavy-handed response to the native occupation of the land. "Get 'em the hell out," was, I'm told, his succinct orders to the troopers and when level heads prevailed (temporarily), his nose seems to have been put out of joint.

* * *

Let's hope the nice weather holds: today, we're driving to Barrie for the second of three baby showers, this one thrown by C's mum and attended by her family & friends. It might be a little overwhelming, and driving to and from Barrie in one weekend is exhausting, it's gonna be a good time.

Mission:Predictable.

2006-06-01T07:35:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, for the first time in ages, C & I decided to head out and watch a movie in an actual theater. A rock 'em, sock 'em sensorium like Mission Impossible 3 seemed like an appropriate choice: a ride like that loses a lot in the translation to DVD, so we signed up for the full-on, twelve-dollar experience -- the price of thrill.

All in all, it was exactly what it promised to be: a loosely-organized collection of chattering guns, beeping doohickeys, split-second acrobatics and exploding stuff. Go for the fluff, stay for the mindlessness.

Cradle to grave.

2006-05-30T21:05:00.000-04:00

There's nothing like assembling a crib in under an hour to make a father-to-be feel like a fucking rock star. Room looks boss, furniture's rolling in piecemeal, got a baby shower coming up this weekend... stuff-wise, we're doing pretty okay, methinks.

* * *

C & I already know that we want to include sex education in our family life from the get-go, incorporating it holistically into our family life and creating an environment where "informed" is the watchword. Hopefully, that'll prevent Blasty from becoming one of the dull, listless kids that are breaking Karen Platt's back. A Victoria, BC-based sexual health educator, Platt wrote a distressing and depressing mini-essay on the pathetic state of "sex ed" in BC schools. Check it out over at The Tyee.

Yes Virginia, it is.

2006-05-29T20:22:00.000-04:00

Knowing we're going cartoon-crazy, pacanukeha sent us to "Is Pixar a 'boys only' club?" over on eclecticism. Using a quick census of characters from Pixar movies, the mini-essay illustrates a number of the issues we have with the current crop of animated flicks circlating out there. It's gonna be a good source of quick quotes the next time I need to explain to Blasty why s/he needs to take a closer look at what's going on in Toy Story.

It's Friday!

2006-05-26T14:12:00.000-04:00

Who knew I used to be a health nut? Seems that during my undergrad I was diligently -- even fastidiously -- repairing damaged lung-tissue cells while playing Starcraft with my roommate:

The largest study of its kind has unexpectedly concluded that smoking marijuana, even regularly and heavily, does not lead to lung cancer.

The new findings "were against our expectations," said Donald Tashkin of the University of California at Los Angeles, a pulmonologist who has studied marijuana for 30 years.

(...)

Earlier work established that marijuana does contain cancer-causing chemicals as potentially harmful as those in tobacco, he said. However, marijuana also contains the chemical THC, which he said may kill aging cells and keep them from becoming cancerous. (emphasis added)

Bam! One more demon-weed myth busted. Read the entire Washington Post article here (will launch a new window).

* * *

We had access to too much money, too much equipment,
and little by little, we went insane.
- Francis Ford Coppola, on filming Apocalypse Now.

Continuing the theme of nifty science, I suppose you've heard about DARPA's most recent foray into invisibility technology? Man, I love those guys... buncha edge-of-reality fruitcakes with a two-billion-dollar budget and Asimov's collected works as research guidelines.

Anyway, this has been a "quirky" news item for every major news outlet in the country, but in case you missed it here's CBC's report (will launch a new window):

A cloak made of a "metamaterial" wouldn't reflect light or cast a shadow.

All light or other electromagnetic waves would be steered around the object, making it invisible, said study author David Smith, a professor of electrical and computer engineering at Duke University in Durham, N.C.

"The theory has only now become relevant because we can make metamaterials with the properties we are looking for," Smith said in a release.

Hilariously, the CBC decided to go with an image of a Harry Potter action figure to illustrate this story. Apparently, the boy-wizard's invisibility cloak is the most popular analogy Reuter's or AP or whoever could come up with. Does no-one remember Predator?

* * *

Speaking of Predator, this made me chuckle:

An attempt was made to get shots of the Predator swinging from tree to tree using a monkey in a red special-effects suit. However, the monkey kept removing the suit and the idea was abandoned. (from IMDb's page for the movie)

You -- higher mammal! Can you read?

2006-05-24T18:13:00.000-04:00

In our continuing quest to get a handle on what's being marketed to children, C and I watched Madgascar a couple of weeks ago. It was fun and the voice casting was good enough -- Sacha Cohen was particularly awesome as King Julien -- but on the whole it felt a bit forced.

We laughed at the right moments and the penguins are as funny as you think they are; there's the usual mix of sight gags for the tikes and puns + pop culture drops for the grownups; musical numbers, big two-dimensional set pieces... worth watching, but somehow it felt like I'd seen it all before in one of the dozen other smash-success animated blockbusters -- right down to the same-old, same-old boy's club / adventuring company that's propelled through the picture.

Whether it's Woody and Buzz Lightyear or Mr. Incredible and Frozone, it's all the same crap and I'm sick of the feisty female sidekick-slash-love interest hovering around the margins of the action, tossing out the occasional bon mot or rolling her eyes at the boys' misadventures.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily...

2006-05-21T10:23:00.000-04:00

I like a gentle spring shower -- or even a solid spring downpour -- as much as the next person, but I've about had it with this soggy, waterlogged morass we're laughingly referring to as a "season." Ten days of rain isn't "spring," it's an incremental monsoon.

* * *

In the interests of thematic continuity, I present you with an aquatic story: for the first time in your life, you can watch a (heavily-mediated) underwater volcanic eruption:

In the first direct observations of an underwater volcanic eruption, newly unveiled video shows plumes of ash and molten drops of sulphur spewing from a crater deep in the North Pacific.

(...)

A remotely operated research submarine captured the images in March 2004 and October 2005 of the volcano NW Rota-1, scientists report in Thursday's issue of the journal Nature.

This link will launch the article in a new window. From there, you can view the video.

Potent symbols.

2006-05-20T22:43:00.000-04:00

Casually referencing Labyrinth, The Princess Bride, Alice in Wonderland and The Neverending Story, MirrorMask is a wildly evocative fairy tale/hallucination which kept us riveted. The movie follows the (mis)adventures of Helena -- caught in the throes of what is either an intricate, fantastical dream or a vision quest -- and weaves a rich tapestry of myth, creating an entire world out of the symbols and signposts of her life.

With solid performances and a unique, engaging esthetic, MirrorMask may have been written for a young audience but is a great story for viewers of all ages: like any good fairy tale, it deals with the hard stuff (duty, destiny, death & deliverance) in a way that makes it accessible, palatable and memorable.

By ones and twos.

2006-05-19T11:32:00.000-04:00

Here's an interesting tidbit from CBC.ca:

The federal government will soon award the Memorial Cross, which is currently given only to mothers and wives of fallen Canadian soldiers, to their husbands and fathers as well.

After an uncomfortable incident last year where a man wasn't allowed to collect his son's posthumously-awarded medal, instead forced to watched from the sidelines while his wife received it on her own. It was doubly painful for the family: he wasn't permitted to participate in a final ceremony honouring his child and she had to endure the pomp and circumstance alone.

There really wasn't any reason to hang on to this outmoded piece of sexist protocol and, given the otherwise depressing status of women under Harper, a welcome piece of good, progressive news.

Will wonders never cease?

2006-05-17T09:23:00.000-04:00

Usually, Gazette editorials are targets for carefully-crafted loogies, phlegmatic projectiles summoned forth by my contempt for the facile, pretentious blowhards who pen these thinly-veiled neo-con tracts. Usually. Today's one of those rare days when I actually find myself nodding as I read the editorial board's criticisms of Harper's incomprehensible plan to scrap EnerGuide:

Axing EnerGuide is short-sighted

The Gazette

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

No matter what kind of made-in-Canada solution the Harper government proposes to the problem of greenhouse gas emissions, it will inevitably involve cutting back on energy consumption.

The amount of the reduction, and the speed with which any target can be met, is what's under consideration, not the need to reduce consumption.

This makes the Conservatives' decision to cancel the EnerGuide program all the more puzzling. The program seems to fit perfectly with Conservative values: It calls on the private sector; encourages homeowners to take matters of energy conservation in hand themselves and provides public money only after private money has been spent and the work verified.

The savings from the program launched in 1998 are substantial. Homeowners received federal grants, on average worth $1,000, to retrofit their homes to make them more energy efficient.

In Saskatchewan, for instance, homeowners who participated in the program were able to cut back by a third on their energy consumption. Retrofit changes cost, on average, between $10,000 and $15,000.

Under the EnerGuide program, between October 2003 and March this year, about 52,000 homeowners received $75 million from Ottawa once they improved their energy efficiency rating.

Homeowners invested three and a half times as much in renovations to achieve the higher rating. The resulting savings, according to a published report, were roughly 28 per cent.

Residential energy consumption is far from negligible in Canada. According to the federal government's own figures, the residential sector's energy use increased by 13 per cent between 1990 and 2003. The resulting greenhouse gas emissions increased by 15 per cent, or 10.3 megatonnes.

But--and this is crucial--without energy efficiency improvements, residential energy use would have climbed by 32 per cent between 1990 and 2003.

Improvements to the thermal covering of Canadian homes, coupled with more efficient appliances and heating equipment, whether for air or water, led to a gain in residential energy efficiency.

This is a significant step forward. There is no reason to jeopardize these gains. Global warming will be contained when everyone puts their effort into it. Countries, large and small, developed and developing, and citizens at all economic levels must be involved in saving the planet we all share.

The beauty of a program like EnerGuide is that it not only helps stop energy waste, it also makes individual citizens aware of how they contribute to a global problem. That is how people learn to stop polluting the world beyond the point of no recovery.

Rhymes with 'kaboom'.

2006-05-15T20:09:00.000-04:00

I don't know why the dork hordes were so upset about the big-screen treatment of iconic shoot-em-up Doom; this flick really isn't any worse than Ghosts of Mars or any other sci-fi/action schlock. In fact, I actually liked the "twist" (and I use the term verrryyy loosely) and C & I both thought the first-person sequence was pretty well done.

There were a bunch of nods to the original game, nice touchstones for nostalgic gamers, and on the whole it was a fun watch. If you want a low-rent Aliens to numb your brain for an hour, this is it.

Awash in pop.

2006-05-14T19:47:00.000-04:00

The Survivor finale's about to start, so I'll keep this brief: first, thanks to grad school avenger for sending steenblogen and I this video of a guy caught zug-zugging himself.

* * *

Secondly -- and speaking of beaches -- Pacanukeha's got a link up to some amazing sand sculptures -- check it out.

Not without incident.

2006-05-11T00:12:00.000-04:00

We don't buy a whole lot of movies: on our limited entertainment budget, a movie has to be good and withstand repeated viewings to justify a purchase. Equilibrium neatly satisfies both criteria. This taut, smartly-directed action flick features a plausible concept, decent script, solid acting and modest ambitions to rise a little above a couple of its genre's conventions.

Christian Bale is excellent -- and he has to be, as he really carries the movie. Sean Bean and Emily Watson are both compelling and deliver nuanced, layered performances but their parts are small and ultimately their characters are signposts in John Preston's (Bale) journey. Even the sleekly evil Taye Diggs can only fill out Preston's shadow -- though he is an excellent antagonist: wily, relentless and motivated.

Visually stunning, the movie is a real gem and shouldn't be missed just because it wasn't released in Canadian theaters.

Punk.

2006-05-10T20:59:00.000-04:00

I don't mean to go off on a rant here, but who the fuck does Debbie Travis think she is? How did this pantsuited peacock accrue so much credibility? I'm driving home from work, listening to CBC and idly pondering supper when this pompous jackass starts spouting off about the laziness of youth.

From what I gather, this kind of malicious generalization is part-and-parcel of the whole "Debbie Travis" public persona: she's made demographic-bashing into some kind of cottage industry. The arrogance of this jerk is unreal: disingenuously prefacing her remarks with a, "I'm not suggesting twentysomethings are lazy," she then launches into a haphazard indictment of a loosely-defined group's "lack of a work ethic."

First of all, she never really clarified whom she's referring to, beyond basically anyone between the ages of 16 and 35. Secondly, she didn't cite a single source for this inane generalization -- not one. Now, if this is some anecdotal shit, then fine -- so be it. But she's getting taken seriously and people are listening to her randomly defame an entire demographic without any kind of justification at all.

I've met a ton of bloated, self-righteous, moralizing, pass-the-buck fortysomething wastrels in my life, but you wouldn'tsee me paint a whole generation with that brush.

Scouting the opposition.

2006-05-08T22:49:00.000-04:00

Partly because it looked like fun, light fare and partly because we feel an obligation to start sniffing out what's being marketed to young 'uns, C and I rented Zathura: A Space Adventure a while back.

Nominally the sequel to 1995's Jumanji, this Jon Favreau-directed "boys' adventure" is a polite romp through space and time that imparts a few easily-digested lessons on kindness, karma and courage. Very white, very middle-class and very boy, it didn't exactly impress us. Worth the price of the rental, but not much more than that.

The hills come alive.

2006-05-07T22:16:00.000-04:00

So we took the weekend off to have a little fun: an old friend of C's was in town with his band and we decided to shelve our projects for a couple of days so we could spend some time with them.

They swing through Montréal about twice a year and always stay with us, crashing on whatever accomodations we can rustle up for them. This time they lucked out: we borrowed a queen-size mattress from some neighbours and laid it out in the baby's room... definitely a step up from the couch. Usually they just blow through town -- dump their gear, play the show, stay up late with us drinking tea and shooting the breeze -- but this time they stayed a little longer and we got our visit on.

They're a good bunch of guys and we always have a fun time when they're here. Plus it's pretty cool to be on the guest list for a really, really good band. Their new record is pretty amazing and comes highly recommended.

Reality has a well-known liberal bias.

2006-05-06T06:20:00.000-04:00

I'm happy -- nay, ecstatic -- to report that, with the help of a friend, we got the baby's room painted last week. Two thick coats of a beautiful, soothing pale lavender turned a stark, empty room into a really welcoming space for a newborn (or anybody). We assembled the changing table and moved a few items in, so it's starting to actually look like a habitable space in there.

Last night I went to pick up the crib and mattress and hopefully we'll get that assembled and set up some time this week. After a bout of real anxiety over the progress of our plans, everything's been coming together these past two weeks and I think we're feeling better about where we're at.

* * *

Now, I know there are some polls out there saying [George W. Bush] has a 32% approval rating. But guys like us, we don't pay attention to the polls. We know that polls are just a collection of statistics that reflect what people are thinking in "reality." And reality has a well-known liberal bias.

If you hadn't heard about Stephen Colbert's brilliant détournement at the White House Correspondents Dinner last week, here's your chance to catch up. Editor & Publisher magazine is carrying the complete transcript and you can watch a video recording of the bit right here (will launch a new window).

Lorraine Carpenter has a quick puff piece on Colbert over at Maisonneuve's site and she links to a detailed analysis of the post-event coverage over at Media Matters: "Media touted Bush's routine at Correspondents' dinner, ignored Colbert's skewering." Seems that the mainstream media deliberately omitted any references to Colbert's performance during their coverage of the events; hardly a surprise, given that they were targets as well. From the Media Matters article:

Colbert also fired on the Washington press corps. "I am appalled to be surrounded by the liberal media who are destroying this country," Colbert said, "except for Fox News. Fox believes in presenting both sides of the story -- the president's side and the vice president's side." He expressed approval of the media's repeated failure to hold the administration accountable: "Over the last five years, you people were so good -- over tax cuts, WMD intelligence, the effect of global warming. We Americans didn't want to know, and you had the courtesy not to try to find out." Further, he urged the White House correspondents in attendance to "[w]rite that novel you got kicking around in your head. You know, the one about the intrepid Washington reporter with the courage to stand up to the administration. You know -- fiction!"

Grab bag.

2006-05-05T06:52:00.000-04:00

The chain reaction of "fetus kicking -> C waking up six times a night -> me waking up three times a night" has wreaked havoc with my energy levels and turned me into a morning person against my will. It's like, if I'm wide awake at 5:00 anyway, I may as well do a couple loads of laundry and mop the kitchen.

* * *

Seduced by a deceptively beautiful trailer, I suggested we rent Zu Warriors a couple of weeks ago. Big mistake; we got about fifteen minutes in before looking at each other and going, "ummm... no." With special effects on par with Power Rangers and an utterly nonsensical plot, this flick really doesn't have anything going for it.

* * *

I'm totally not a hockey buff, but a friend insisted I watch an Alexander Ovechkin highlight reel the other day and I was floored: the degree of athleticism and professional skill this kid's got is just sick. An incredibly graceful skater with insane puckhandling skills who hits like a ton of bricks... what's not to love?

Hi-ho, hi-ho...

2006-05-04T07:28:00.000-04:00

Between the two of us, we've made some progress here: the floodwaters of bric-a-brac are receding and we're starting to be able to see our furniture again. C's been chipping away at the piles while I'm at work and she's been able to get a surprising amount of organizing done.

With any luck, tonight we'll be able to actually paint the baby's room -- I never get tired of saying that -- and by this time next week our labyrinth of detritus will have vanished.

* * *

Now Playing magazine has a long interview with Ron Moore and includes some musings and hints about the forthcoming third season of Battlestar Galactica.

Seven Minutes past Midnight.

2006-05-02T21:07:00.000-04:00

At the request of Ann Spam, I thought I'd plug The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a book I received as a thank-you gift from an acquaintance last year.

I wasn't sure what to expect from the book, as I apparently missed all the hype about it. What I found was an old-fashioned whodunit entwined with a fascinating character study. Given its unique voice, charming cast and unusual dénoument, I'm not surprised this book was a popular darling. It's a breezy read, but the characters are so compellingly drawn that they stayed with me afterwards. Beyond an unusual and unforgettable protagonist, the story features an assortment of plausible, sympathetic friends, neighbours and family members. I especially enjoyed the portrayal of the parents' corroded marriage: Haddon manages to convey both the complexity of a very adult (and somewhat tragic) relationship and the block-simple interpolation of that relationship in Christopher's mind.

Although criticized by some for the simplicity of its language, I think that's one of the book's strengths: by framing the events in a clear, unadorned prose, Haddon retains a transparency and sincerity which reflects Christopher's own crystalline perspective. The trick -- and the wit-- is the way in which the author also manages to communicate the between-the-lines subtleties to the reader.

All told, one of the better novels I read last year.

Disorder.

2006-04-30T22:30:00.000-04:00

It took all weekend, but we finally managed to empty out the office. I knew that room was densely-packed, but I had no idea how much stuff was actually in there: it wasn't a spring cleaning, it was an excavation. I think we uncovered a corner of that Bosnian stargate...

Anyway, the important thing is that it's done, though now the rest of the apartment is re-styled in "Katrina chic," with stuff everywhere. I can't wait until this whole process is finished so we can start living again, instead of just subsisting amidst the teetering towers of miscellanea that have sprung up, toadstool-like, in every room.

To that end, we swept and dusted the now-echoing office, mopped the floors and scrubbed the walls. A friend came over and, in exchange for pizza and beer, helped us lay down two thick coats of primer everywhere except the floor; even the ceiling got done, which was a first for me. I'm indebted to C for her patience: try as I may, I can't seem to paint particularly well and I'm sure it drives a pro like her nuts. I think it's a testament to our bond that we were still smiling at the end of the day.

* * *

Given the speed with which the Sri Lankan situation has been evolving and our own government's departure from historical precedent, I think it's important to try and get some alternative perspectives on the conflict. The Asian Tribune is running "Open warfare erupts in Sri Lanka," an article originally featured on the World Socialist Web Site.

Both the government and the LTTE claim to be for "peace" and neither side has officially abrogated the ceasefire. But all the signs are pointing toward a rapid slide back to all-out civil war that will have devastating consequences for working people on the island—Tamil, Sinhala and Muslim alike. More than 65,000 people were killed in two decades of brutal conflict prior to 2002. Many more were maimed or turned into refugees.

Both sides are threatening war. LTTE spokesman S. Pulidevan told the media: "They are firing with artillery and cannons. It is like a war situation in Trincomalee. If the attacks continue, the LTTE will be forced to take military defensive action." LTTE leader in Trincomalee S.S. Elilan warned: "We are in a state of readiness and are waiting for the instruction from our leadership to respond with force that will be catastrophically disabling and devastating to the enemy."

Government defence spokesman Keheliya Rambukwella was no less bellicose, declaring: "There’s no duration or limits on defence matters. If the LTTE continues its attacks, there will be coordinated retaliation or defence. This will continue as long as the LTTE targets the security forces." In his comments, Media Minister Anura Priyadarsahna Yapa denied that the ceasefire was in a shambles after the first open breaches by the Sri Lankan military, saying only "it’s a bit of a low".

Understatement of the week, bar none. If you're accustomed to the biases of mainstream news outlets, the biases of this article may strike you as particularly glaring, but really the latter are no more severe than the former. Regardless, it provided some productive modifications to my own internal model, so on that basis I recommend it you.

In addition, the Hindustan Times provides more information on more technical aspects of the conflict and ensuing negotiations, as well as delving into the specifics of the Norwegian facilitating team's efforts to hurry peace talks along.

Constant craving.

2006-04-29T23:53:00.000-04:00

Nobody in this story, and no outfit or corporation, thank God, is based upon an actual person or outfit in the real world. But I can tell you this; as my journey through the pharmaceutical jungle progressed, I came to realize that, by comparison with the reality, my story was as tame as a holiday postcard.

- John Le Carré

Those are the final words of The Constant Gardener, not spoken by any character but written on the screen at the end of the closing credits. A fitting conclusion to a movie which simultaneously terrifies and enchants with its beautifully-filmed portrait of greed, mendacity and profound inhumanity nesting in the heart of the African AIDS crisis.

Lauded by British cinephiles, critics and awards associations, this is a real gem of a movie: polished, precise and stunningly gorgeous, with crisp, hard edges; clear, polished surfaces; and a dimly-glimmering center. Hands down the best film I've seen in 2006, The Constant Gardener accomplishes the nigh-impossible by acting as both a powerful political statement and an arresting piece of art. On top of that, the movie manages to be both A) a nuanced, profoundly human and deeply-affecting love story and B) an engaging, complex thriller with double agents, diplomatic intrigue and smatterings of quick & dirty violence.

Tessa Quayle: I thought you spies knew everything.
Tim Donohue: Only God knows everything. He works for Mossad.

Rachel Weisz (recently in the forgettable Constantine) delivers an amazing performance as Tessa Quayle, the hunter hunted. Making her quixotic quester relevant by infusing her with furious energy, integrity and a wild intellect, Weisz earns her Best Supporting Actress Oscar several times over. She steals every scene she's in, injecting vitality and immediacy into even the quietest scenes. Fiennes is excellent (as usual), channelling some of his Tony-winning portrayal of Hamlet into Justin Quayle, another doomed man haunted by ghosts. Danny Huston is impeccable as the archetypal bureaucratic villain and Herbert Koundé's star continues to rise (watch for him to get bigger, faster).

I can't recommend this movie strongly enough; if you haven't seen it yet, don't delay.

So much to do, so few people to do it for me.

2006-04-27T23:16:00.000-04:00

I feel like I've maybe been neglecting this space a little lately, what with everything else going on. With a new arrival on the way, we've had to do some major feng shui on the apartment in order to save as much space as possible: seems like every week I'm assembling, mounting, screwing, hammering, measuring or moving something different. Not that I'm complaining; it's actually been kind of fun and the results are impressive. It's just left me with very little time for things like editorializing...

* * *

However, I can still find time to watch brilliant video mash-ups like George Bush singt "Imagine", courtesy of Pacanukeha.

* * *

In case you missed it, the aboriginal protests in Caledonia have finally brought out the ugly side of the locals: the CBC reported that shortly after the County Mayor implied that local Native activists were lazy welfare junkies, a mob confronted the protesters. Hundreds of locals, incensed that their lives were being disrupted by the demonstartors, showed up spoiling for a fight:

About 500 residents headed to the site after a rally, at which they called on authorities to end the seven-week-old native demonstration at a housing development in Caledonia, which is about one hour west of Toronto.

(...)

At the meeting, about 3,000 non-native residents voiced their mounting frustration over the blockade.

"As Caledonians we feel that we have had our lives disrupted," one angry man said.

Since this report was released, the town council has formally censured the mayor and there hasn't been a repeat of Monday's fracas, but the situation is still tense and the OPP is standing by, as is the ghost of Dudley George.

* * *

Hey, check it out: I've been blogging for a year and a week!

Shadow.

2006-04-26T00:10:00.001-04:00

After a three-month lull, C and I have started renting movies again; it's amazing how easy is it to drop out of pop culture when a sudden, urgent priority inserts itself into your lives.

Anyway, after watching The Aristocrats, we opted for something a little more cerebral and settled in with critical darling and Oscar contender A History of Violence. Ostensibly a meditation on violence and identity, it shares similarities with Cronenberg's last film, 2002's underrated Spider: both follow an unremarkable man's path through a life fraught with explosions of violence both literal and allegorical.

Spider was compelling despite its clouded themes and messy denouement, while A History of Violence maintains a crystal-clear focus throughout its length, a testament to Cronenberg's growth as an artist. I've always found his films to be muddled and unfocused, weighed down by blubbery subplots and meandering narrative cul-de-sacs. In History, he manages to stay on track and the result is a taut, engaging movie that rarely drags or deviates from its central premises. Surprisingly, he also manages to avoid getting bogged down in the barely-concealed misogyny which so often plagues his work.

Viggo Mortensen is excellent, underplaying his part (no small feat for the male lead in a Cronenberg picture) and saving his "King" look for just the right moment. C and I both like Maria Bello and it was cool to watch her in a nuanced role, a lead performance which would really let her show her chops. she acquits herself admirably and the relationship she paints with Mortensen is nothing short of amazing. While both Ed Harris and William Hurt are solid, I don't understand how Hurt got himself an Oscar nomination for this... he's barely i the movie at all!

All in all, a strong movie that actually lives up to most of the critical hype.

On your marks.

2006-04-25T08:43:00.000-04:00

Neil Gaiman is a very popular author in my social circle and though I loved Good Omens, I never got around to reading any of his other works. Given that everything seems to come highly recommended, I wasn't sure where to begin so I thought I'd start with something small: "Books have sexes; or to be more precise, books have genders" is an essay Gaiman wrote for Powells.com, an online bookseller. Dealing (disppointingly) only peripherally with gender, it's actually about the process by which an author uncovers the book which lurks inside of them.

* * *

~trying to blog it out got me thinking about commitments, choices, struggles and stakes with her musings on motivation and the appeal of work that might, at times, seem fruitless or even masochistic.

* * *

And speaking of thankless work and extended treatment, The Tyee is carrying a series of pieces by David Berner, a "writer, actor and radio talk show host who also happens to have run a treatment program for addicts." "Drug Treatment Can Work" is the second in a three-part response to the BC Liberals' plans for the province's addicts.

Were we able to help everyone? Of course not. Our success rate remained constant at around 25 percent. But there are three important things to remember about that number: 1) According to basic Judeo-Christian belief "If you save one human soul, you save the world!" 2) A batting average of .250 will get you into baseball's hall of fame and a return of 25 cents on the dollar will make you Canada's next billionaire. 3) Our per bed costs were comically low, less than $20,000 per annum, because this was not a "medical model."

(...)

My primary interest in the endless addiction debates is treatment, treatment and more treatment. I know from personal experience that treatment is possible and affordable. I have known every mayor of Vancouver for the past 40 years and most British Columbia premiers. Even though treatment is touted as one of the four famous pillars, I have yet to meet one mayor or premier who is prepared to invest in treatment.

Alley Gory.

2006-04-20T16:30:00.000-04:00

It's the singer, not the song.

2006-04-17T15:13:00.000-04:00

After a fun and surprisingly exhausting weekend (C's mom has way too much energy -- the woman's a machine), we decided to chill out and watch a few movies last night. The Aristocrats has been on our must-see list for half a year, so we finally bit the bullet and rented it.

There isn't much to review -- it is what it is -- but there were a couple of surprises which made it worthwhile viewing. The Smothers Brothers' deconstructivist non-joke is gently clever and Sarah Silverman's disturbing parallel riff is not only funnier than most other versions in the film, but more shocking too. Hands down the funniest telling is Kevin Pollak's, though. Although we'd smirked and chuckled our way through most other comics' riffing, Pollak's inspired channelling of Christopher Walken had us in stitches, to the point where we had to pause the movie to catch our breath -- then we watched it again. I've always liked Pollak in dramatic features, but I didn't realize he could be so funny (though his brilliant turn as wisecracking Hockney in The Usual Suspects should've tipped me off).

The most interesting versions were almost inevitably told by the women, who modified and mutated the fundamental nature of the joke so as to turn it inside out and make a whole series of other points beside, before and behind the joke.

* * *

Mea culpa: I should have given due props to Ann Spam for the "Say No to Pants" video -- thanks, Ann!

Happy Easter.

2006-04-16T23:56:00.000-04:00

Short and sweet, like a creme egg.

2006-04-15T23:53:00.000-04:00

I know I'm a little kid-focused lately, but surely humour this sophisticated would appeal to anyone (N.B.: although completely work-safe, the movie at the end of this link is on the loud side and will launch automatically; colour yourselves warned).

* * *

C's mother is in town for Easter weekend, and between the laughing and the lattés I'm swamped. Ergo, along with the previous link all you get from me today is the Silent Hill trailer. Cheers.

Pillars of Society.

2006-04-14T08:51:00.000-04:00

As an addendum to yesterday's post regarding the rationalizations for war in the Middle East, here's an interesting news tidbit: Reuters is reporting that two more retired US generals are asking for Rummy's head on a stick.

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Two more retired U.S. generals called for Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld to resign on Thursday, claiming the chief architect of the Iraq operation ignored years of Pentagon planning for a U.S. occupation and should be held accountable for the chaos there.

As the high-ranking officers accused Rumsfeld of arrogance and ignoring his field commanders, the White House was forced to defend a man who has been a lightning rod for criticism over a war that has helped drive President George W. Bush's public approval ratings to new lows.

Complete Reuters article here.

* * *

Pacanukeha reminds us that the Easter Bunny's relentless campaign to spread juvenile diabetes is only the tip of a malevolent iceberg: witness exhibit A.

* * *

Ursula K. Le Guin is one of my favourite authors. A luminary amongst speculative fiction writers and an outspoken feminist, anarchist, anti-racist hellion, Le Guin has left an indelible mark on her genre with books like the classic The Left Hand of Darkness and the beautiful Earthsea series. A recipient of the Library of Congress Living Legends award in the "Writers and Artists" category in April 2000 for "her significant contributions to America's cultural heritage," Le Guin remains a vital & dynamic force in SF.

"The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" is one of her best-known short stories and I just found a free online version of it so I thought I'd share with the class. Spot-on and sharper than a serpent's tooth, the story shouldn't take you more than ten minutes to read. Go ahead, everything will still be here when you get back.

Flex.

2006-04-13T16:24:00.000-04:00

A professor at someplace called GateWay Community College created a neat JavaScript interactive diagram of the human muscle system. It's just a tutorial, but the level of detail is surprisingly good and it's completely intuitive. Check it out.

* * *

For years, I subscribed to The New Yorker: sophisticated editorial content broken up by pretentious marketing campaigns and self-congratulatory navel-gazing urbanite wit. I enjoyed the monthly window into a world wholly unlike my own and they did have a remarkable ability to attract some of the finest short-story writers in America.

Anyway, I've since dropped my subscription but I still check out their site occasionally. This month, they're carrying an excellent piece by Seymour Hersh:"The Iran Plans: Would President Bush go to war to stop Tehran from getting the bomb?" is a crystal-clear summation of the White House's plans to go to war with Iran in the enar future. Citing one source after another, from DoD officials, to senior intelligence analysts and members of the House, Hersh leaves little room for argument: G.W. Bush, with what one senior member of the House Appropriations Committee referred to as a "messianic vision," is hell-bent on pockmarking Iran with blackened craters and filling the autumn siroccos with radioactive dust.

All emphases are mine.

The rationale for regime change was articulated in early March by Patrick Clawson, an Iran expert who is the deputy director for research at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy and who has been a supporter of President Bush. “So long as Iran has an Islamic republic, it will have a nuclear-weapons program, at least clandestinely,” Clawson told the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on March 2nd. “The key issue, therefore, is: How long will the present Iranian regime last?”

When I spoke to Clawson, he emphasized that “this Administration is putting a lot of effort into diplomacy.” However, he added, Iran had no choice other than to accede to America’s demands or face a military attack.

(...)

“This is much more than a nuclear issue,” one high-ranking diplomat told me in Vienna. “That’s just a rallying point, and there is still time to fix it. But the Administration believes it cannot be fixed unless they control the hearts and minds of Iran. The real issue is who is going to control the Middle East and its oil in the next ten years.”

(...)

The lack of reliable intelligence leaves military planners, given the goal of totally destroying the sites, little choice but to consider the use of tactical nuclear weapons. “Every other option, in the view of the nuclear weaponeers, would leave a gap,” the former senior intelligence official said. “ ‘Decisive’ is the key word of the Air Force’s planning. It’s a tough decision. But we made it in Japan.”

He went on, “Nuclear planners go through extensive training and learn the technical details of damage and fallout -— we’re talking about mushroom clouds, radiation, mass casualties, and contamination over years. This is not an underground nuclear test, where all you see is the earth raised a little bit. These politicians don’t have a clue, and whenever anybody tries to get it out” -— remove the nuclear option -— “they’re shouted down.”

The entire article, in a printable format for the evening commute home, is right here (will launch in a new window).

Women are the fulcrums.

2006-04-12T07:46:00.000-04:00

Lately, most news outlets have been running stories about the new pope's surprisingly mellow reign, using the one-year anniversary of his bureaucratic apotheosis as an opportunity to say, in a nutshell, "look, he's not nearly as big a fascist as he could have been." Tell that to reverend Cachia in Peterborough:

A 56-year-old Ontario priest celebrated one of the holiest days in the Roman Catholic calendar under the roof of his own breakaway church this weekend, after learning he had been excommunicated for his support of women being ordained as priests.

Rev. Ed Cachia's newly formed Christ the Servant Catholic Church was declared to be a schismatic church by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Peterborough yesterday (...)

The National Post story continues here.

While it's true that the "German Shepherd" (still a great pun) hasn't been quite as rabid in his defense of orthodoxy as many had predicted, the bottom line is that he's been firm in his refusal to change one single comma in the church's teachings on homosexuality, the place of women in the church and birth control. The dog may be licking your hand, but he's still guarding the gate.

* * *

So the long-awaited parliamentary debate over Canada's mission in Afghanistan finally took place and... nobody showed up. All these opposition MPs who'd been screaming blue murder over the absence of any forum to discuss and debate the mission apparently decided it was more important to start their Easter vacations two days early.

Although I trust Ignatieff about as far as I can throw him, he did have some choice words in defense of Canada's role in the region: "What I've learned [in my travels] is that you cannot do development in Afghanistan unless you control the security situation." I agree completely and I think the fundamental reasons behind the mission are sound. That doesn't mean I don't have some grave reservations about the execution and planning, however.

The Globe & Mail article is a pretty good summary of the "debate," if you want a closer look.

Atmosphere.

2006-04-11T23:49:00.000-04:00

Published in 1946, "The Moon Under Water" is George Orwell's timeless description of his ideal watering-hole. I first read it years ago, during my own Quixotic search for the Platonic brass-and-oak refuge, and I was happy to find a complete version freely available online (will launch in a new browser window).

Impératif présent.

2006-04-10T17:23:00.000-04:00

I'm fucking stunned. Even though the protests had grown to near-1968 proportions, I really hadn't let myself believe that Chirac's regressive contrat première embauche would be defeated by anything so prosaic as popular dissent. Apparently, my pessimism was misplaced: as both Le Monde and the CBC report, the law "will be replaced" (i.e. scrapped and quickly forgotten) and another, more flexible alternative will be explored. Excerpts from Prime Minister de Villepin's speech demonstrate his shortsightedness, desperation and colossal arrogance:

Depuis plusieurs mois, toute mon action et celle du gouvernement ont été guidées par un impératif : apporter une réponse efficace aux milliers de jeunes de notre pays, à qui on ne propose aucun emploi.

(...)

J'ai voulu agir vite (...) J'ai voulu proposer une solution forte (...) seul un meilleur équilibre entre plus de souplesse pour les entreprises et plus de sécurité pour les salariés nous permettra de rompre avec le chômage dans notre pays.

Cela n'a pas été compris par tous, je le regrette.

Actually, I think they understood it very fucking well. The students, workers and citizens who took to the streets understood that in order to create the illusion of higher employment rates, their government was willing to sacrifice the most basic aspect of job security: the responsibility of the employer to provide a defensible reason for dismissal. This wouldn't create jobs (in the sense of steady, reliable work for which one is fairly remunerated), it would create McJobs: disposable work made for disposable people; one more odious aspect of the latest wave of globalization that French society has steadfastly rejected. Lest you forgot, this is the same country where a farmer who tore the roof off a McDonald's was lauded as a populist hero; the country which invented the "slow food" movement; the country where six weeks of vacation time per annum is an entitlement, not a reward for five years' service.

While I'm happy the law was defeated, I'm curious why no-one discussed the gendered implications of strip-mining job security. Granted, Parisian culture is notoriously chauvinistic, but I still would've expected someone to point out that a law which allows an employer this kind of latitude will necessarily make it much harder to prosecute sexual harassment at the workplace. With this law in place, how many (more) women would have had to swallow their indignation and quietly suffer at the hands of abusive bosses? "Without cause" would translate to "if the bitch says no."

Naturally, this would apply to any marginalized group you can think of. Ironically, a law designed in part to combat the fifty percent unemployment among non-white youth would only further entrench employer's perceptions that these bougnoles have no place in their society.

Affectionate-Squeeze Lad to the rescue!

2006-04-07T08:27:00.000-04:00

Have you heard of cuddle parties? The logical inverse to online dating, speed dating, hook-up parties and the like, cuddle parties have the potential to be a huge trend.

Given the impending arrival or our own little wriggling bundle of needs, C and I have been pricing slings and carriers, and I've been thinking a lot about touch and the degree to which an inability (or unwillingness) to engage in physical contact inhibits socialization and neuters the human capacity for empathy. "I wasn't held enough as a child" has transcended the epithet of therapeutic gobbledygook to become merely cliché, but it's clear that we're starved for affection if healthy, upwardly-mobile twenty- and thirtysomethings are using their Blackberries to schedule cuddle time with total strangers.

* * *

This little piece in Maclean's about pulp genius Stan Lee led me to read about the California Science Center's Marvel Super Heroes Science Exhibition, a great idea and a brilliant piece of marketing. In a nutshell, it uses the four-colour allure of comic books as an introduction to cutting-edge science in the fields of prosthetics, the effects of different types of energy on the human body, chemistry, etc.

Lift a sports utility vehicle, just like a real life Iron Man! By experimenting with simple levers and pulleys to lift weights, learn what the future holds for increasing human strength.

Explore the wonders of Spider-Man while learning about the elasticity and strength of spider webs. Test the strength of spider silk to Technora™, one of the strongest materials ever created.

See if your senses are as sharp as Daredevil’s when you navigate through an alleyway using your sense of touch and hearing clues (“psst over here”).

Daredevil's exhibit sounds kinda lame, no? I mean, compared to bench-pressing a truck or spinning webs of any size -- which, I've heard, can catch thieves just like flies -- wandering aimlessly around a dark hallway is pretty weak.

Also, I'm not sure how visible the exhibits will be amidst the sea of tiny (TM) signs floating around, but it sounds kinda neat.

Dialogue, what?

2006-04-05T18:16:00.000-04:00

One of this blog's limitations was made apparent to me by the following e-mail, reprinted here without the author's express permission (but I'm pretty sure consent is implied; if not, mea culpa):

I wanted to respond to something you wrote on your blog - but it necessitates images - and the comments window would not allow me to upload them.... so via email...

Just a small example to add to your excellent analysis. This type of image (as seen on the cover) goes back a long way in art history as well. I am most reminded of Manet's Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe painted in the late 1800's. At the time his works were very controversial, because they depicted nude women in contemporary settings (rather then historical, religious, or mythical realms). Also because the women depicted in a number of his works were known sex workers, and because those women were depicted as actively returning the gaze of the viewer.

A hundred years later, this image - like so many others - has been reified, and transformed into conservative cannon - and reproduced on magazine covers. If Vanity Fare is interested in challenging the status quo in this genre they should look to contemporary artists like Renée Cox - who are able to embrace some of the original transformative intent of these type of images - while taking it much farther by challenging the still prevalent desires/norms that works like Manet's perpetuate.

anyways - I have to get back to work....
I was just really struck by your post....

I was blown away by these images and I couldn't agree with the author more: any subversive or disruptive potential of the VF images (a legacy imparted by Manet et. al.) is entirely voided by Tom Ford's obnoxious machismo and the magazine's persistent racism.

It's times like this that I really appreciate the potential of a blog: friends spread out across multiple countires, continents and even hemispheres are able to continue some of the same discussions we started over pints at the corner pub, or ribs and bruschetta on a backyard terrace.

Thanks for the insight, JW.

Dispatches.

2006-04-03T12:59:00.000-04:00

As much as I missed blogging while I was away, I haven't been able to get back into the groove since I've returned. There's just so many things going on around here that I literally can't set aside the hour or so it would take to just post a quick catch-up riff. I finally decided to just suck it up and use my lunch hour to blog from work; I don't have the time to get into any of the stuff that happened in California, but I can at least provide a little fresh content for the (treasured!) handful of loyal readers who keep coming back to the same headline every day.

So without further ado, here are a couple of stories that caught my eye while I was away:

* * *

Reimburse living organ donors in Canada: commentary

Compensating living organ donors makes financial sense and can save lives, doctors say in a commentary published Tuesday.

(...)

Dr. Scott Klarenbach, a kidney specialist and health economist at the University of Alberta in Edmonton, thinks the financial burden is one reason more people aren't coming forward to donate kidneys and livers.

The entire CBC story may be read here (will open link in a new window).

Given the enormous cost incurred by organ donors, this seems like a no-brainer. Granted, any attempt to create more expenses for an already-taxed health care system will be met with resistance; but considering the paper's claim that each donated kidney saves the government $100,000, there doesn't seem to be any firm rationale to continue imposing unnecessary burdens on donors.

* * *

On the subject of cultural innovation, the government of France took a huge step toward legitimating video games as an art form:

France has elevated three video game creators to its prestigious Order of Arts and Letters, the first time electronic games artists have achieved France's highest award for culture.

Culture Minister Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres honoured three game creators on Monday – Nintendo's Shigeru Miyamoto, Ubisoft's Michel Ancel and Frédérick Raynal, director of the original Alone in the Dark game.

(...)

The Order of Arts and Letters was established in 1957 to recognize eminent artists and writers and people who have contributed significantly to furthering the arts in France and throughout the world.

Complete CBC article here.

While I'm not familiar with Ancel and Raynal, Miyamoto is a living legend -- a titan in his field (and, AFAIK, not a French citizen). To be recognized by France in this way is a nice feather in his cap and, more importantly, sets a beautful precedent. Maybe next time they'll even nominate a woman or two, hm?

* * *

While in San Francisco, I'd wanted to visit some of the many amazing exhibits being held in the city's galleries and museums. Home to a vibrant and ever-changing art scene, San Franciscio's many exhibit halls have always been a siren's call for me during my visits. Unfortunately, I was kept too busy during my trip to visit more than a couple of small galleries. One exhibit that I'd really wanted to catch was A Brief History of the "Clenched Fist" Image, held at the gorgeous Intersection for the Arts.

Tracking this "persistent symbol of resistance and unity" throughout its storied history, the artist offers a comprehensive study of a powerful emblem of struggle. Take a quick look.

Be it ever so humble.

2006-03-28T22:44:00.000-05:00

Good golly miss Molly, I am so glad to be home. To coin a country song, ain't no place worth a damn if my baby ain't by my side. More on that later.

Naturally, I have growled/garbled/gurgled anecdotes to share, but they'll have to wait while I unpack and decipher my handwritten notes from the coast. In the interim, I leave you with a post I started drafting before I left and finished today: my reaction to the much-discussed "naked" issue of Vanity Fair.

Until tomorrow, kittens.

* * *

Did I miss a memo? When did it become cool to wear naked women as accessories in high-profile magazine spreads? By now you've heard about -- and may have seen -- Vanity Fair's much-ballyhooed Naked Cover^(TM):

It's like, okay -- the aptly-named "retrosexist" phenomenon (thanks, Steenblogen!) can be blamed for some of this, but who is this Tom Ford jagoff and why is it okay for him to trot out 35-year-old stereotypes to wild applause? This isn't daring, it's the same tired old sexism! This esthetic isn't "fresh," it's older than me! I mean, come on... I've seen more edge at the end of a Q-Tip.

In case you haven't seen the spread, here's a shot-by-shot breakdown (may as well get my 7$ worth out of the mag):

Dakota Fanning, elegantly coiffed and coolly challenging. Her bio opens with a value assessment ("$3 million a picture") and ends with the ultimate compliment, an assertion of authenticity: "she's the real thing." Marketed like a soft drink, a twelve-year-old girl is accorded a modicum of respect. She is the only female in this spread to receive such an honour.

Peter Sarsgaard may be suspended in "Japanese bondage ropes," but he's impeccably dressed in a Prada suit and $800 shoes.

Sienna Miller's naked. In heels. Wearing diamonds and smoking. 'Nuff said.

Jake Gyllenhaal's brooding mug is framed in a forgettable black and white portrait that makes him look hunky yet serious. T-shirt and slacks.

Heath Ledger mirrors his Brokeback costar in a black and white three-quarters shot. Positively swaddled in jeans and a Gucci coat, he looks chilly and vaguely suspicious.

Jason Schwartzman opted for the feral cokehead look: Dior suit accessorized with hideous beard, Hermès shirt, gold Cartier watch and nameless, headless naked woman standing at straight-backed attention beside him.

Camilla Belle gets the vulnerable, alone-in-the-woods, looking-over-shoulder-at-camera, "will you save me or rape me?" shot. Her poofy white dress may even be torn.

Eric Bana is a glistening porn star: too cheesy to be sexy, and any penetrability implied by his near-nakedness is offset by the heavy gold watch, muscular calves and see-me-not sunglasses.

A bored and listless Natalie Portman appears to be naked, but there might be a swimsuit under her folded arms.

Viggo Mortensen's supposed to be in the midst of afterglow-drenched canoodling, but he just looks sleepy. Also fully clothed, he's featured alongside a pair of women's feet: with no shoes, socks, stockings or visible hemline and obviously belonging to a woman reclining on the bed, it's safe to say she's naked too -- or close enough.

Patricia Clarkson is dressed at least, but her neckline plunges below her sternum and she's doing the whole arms-behind-the-head, holding-hair-aloft, come-hither thing.

Angelina Jolie's naked in a bathtub, flaunting her tattoos and asscrack.

Harvey and Bob Weinstein are armoured up in Armani and Brooks Bros.

Rosamund Pike reclines, exhausted, in an improbable dress. She seems to have been hunted to ground and is now awaiting the killing stroke.

Topher Grace wears a posh waiter's jacket while being scissored between an anonymous woman's naked legs.

Reese Witherspoon, normally a self-assured and confident type-A with little fear of the word "feminist," is infantilized in a just-below-the-labia babydoll dress, very adult stilettos and a doll. She's actually holding a doll.

Philip Seymour Hoffman is painfully contrived, with his half-finished cigarette, two-day stubble and razor-sharp cuffs. Fully clothed, natch.

Taye Diggs -- first non-white body! -- is posed à la Playgirl: reclining, arm behind his head, naked on a bearskin rug. I'm sure the juxtaposition of the animal imagery alongside the black body is entirely coincidental and in no way indicates any kind of neocolonial reification of his sexuality. He is raced three times in the brief bio accompanying the image. No wonder he looks uncomfortable.

Nick Cave wears a three-piece pinstripe and steely squint.

Anne Hathaway is breathless and accessible in a strapless lace disaster: mouth ajar, dark eyes glazed and with a ribbon around her waist, she's a dopey gift for the viewer.

Max Minghella looks sharp in Dior and Gucci.

Jamie Bell appears to be removing his belt, but he's dressed.

Jonathan Rhys Meyers' whole head fills a bronze close-up. Might be shirtless, hard to tell.

Michelle Monaghan is draped on the hood of a car, head hanging over the grill. She's either an accessory or an accident victim.

Pamela anderson and Mamie Van Doren (oh, Tom -- you're so clever) are... well, it's a so-ironic-it-isn't boob shot. Let's move along.

Joy Bryant is naked, full frontal with discrete shadowing.

Michelle Yeoh shows a lot of leg in a beautiful black dress. This shot actually doesn't bother me: she looks strong and poised.

And the next page features an immense breast. With a two-foot-wide aureola, this gargantuan prop is supposed to be funny, I think: the subject of the shot is Garth Fisher, M.D., well-heeled facecarver to the stars. Never heard of him.

Jennifer Aniston is naked, curled up in a fetal position and softly out of focus. That's either a harsh indictment of her life post-Brad, or just one more sexist image. Hmmm... wait, give me a minute...

Q'orianka Kilcher (great name!) is demurely posed in a Lanvin dress which plunges to just above the navel. Her bio makes sure you know she's exotic as hell.

Terence Howard is sweetly dapper in a three-piece Gucci and big honkin' watch.

Zooey Deschanel, subtitled "The Living Doll," creeps the hell out of me. Gaudy stockings, mussed-up makeup and bouffant hair accentuate her childlike mien and her "dress" looks more like a role of crisp new painter's dropcloth wrapped a couple times around her torso. What I find really revolting is the setting: the filthy back of an old van, with a spare tire, quilted blanket and streaky windows completing her own trashy look, the scene resembles nothing more than a still from an episode of Law & Order: SVU. Right before the editor cuts to commercial break, we see the innocent girl from the perspective of her abductor: teary and trapped in the back of an anonymous, decrepit white van. Fucking ew.

Laying back crosswise on a bed, shirt unbuttoned, lips pouty and stare dreamy, Joaquin Phoenix looks hot.

And the grand finale... George Clooney "directing" a small crowd of almost-naked women. Seventeen soaking-wet women in their underwear pantomime the actions of a film crew while he pretends to direct, looking for all the world like the captain of the good ship Benny Hill. Naturally, he's bone-dry and fully clothed.

Final count:

Women (as featured "subjects"): 19

Men: 20

Anonymous naked women: 22 (includes random body parts and decapitated torsos)

Men shown vulnerable: 0

Women shown vulnerable: 14 (give or take; admittedly, this assessment is subjective)

Instances of kiddie porn: 2 (and I'm not counting Fanning)

Moments when I considered that Tom Ford and Vanity Fair might possibly believe women are actual persons, both ontologically and legally, with the capacity for independent thought, self-determination and subjecthood: 0.

Jingle-jangle.

2006-03-13T06:23:00.000-05:00

After four and a half hours sleep, I'm off to the airport for a six-hour direct flight to San Francisco. The anxiety's starting to set in: what if I completely fuck this up? Did I pack all the documentation I'll need on-site? Will I adjust to a complete immersion into work? I'll be living, eating and working alongside the same people for ten days -- people from whom I feel alienated and even, in some cases, repelled. Did I fax the right receipts to the client on Friday? Do I remember all of mental "notes to self" I've been making for the last three weeks? In yet another instance of having a blindingly obvious truth thrown in my face, it seems that professional obligations mean a little more when there's someone at home depending on you.

What if I completely fuck this up?

Aaaaahhh..!

2006-03-12T23:46:00.000-05:00

I spent all weekend doing laundry, cleaning the apartment and running errands in preparation for my trip, so once again I'm ducking my keenly-felt obligation to post and giving you a fun link: what D&D character are you?

For the record, it seems that I'm a Chaotic Good Half-Elf Fighter with "both the curious drive of humans and the patience of elves" and despite my intelligence, I "believe that violence is frequently the answer" to life's problems. Obviously it's a gag, but it should keep you entertained for ten minutes.

Now I need to go pack.

Memento mori.

2006-03-11T01:27:00.000-05:00

C and I were really looking forward to checking out Tim Burton's latest, Corpse Bride and a couple weeks ago we finally did. It's unusual for a movie to be known mainly for the techniques applied during its creation but here the fame (or infamy, depending on your point of view) is well-deserved. Reportedly filmed over 55 weeks using painstaking stop-motion techniques, Corpse Bride is a technical marvel, a real labour of love. C and I were completely absorbed into the fantastical shadow-dance Burton projects on the miniature, hand-crafted soundstages.

The story is dark and barbed, as any good fairy tale should be. Lampooning both traditional marriage and the self-important who conveniently forget that the reaper has no decorum, Corpse Bride is a smart, funny burlesque romp through the underworld that -- like any good mediation on death and eternity -- made us laugh and cuddle a little closer on the couch. Two big thumbs up.

Running to stand still.

2006-03-10T21:09:00.000-05:00

After the longest week in a string of long weeks, I just don't have it in me to post. I've been running around all week and this weekend won't afford me many opportunities to relax, as I'm flying out to the west coast Monday morning. Take a look at some of the most amazing buildings in the world as you pity me.

Behind the cue ball.

2006-03-07T20:18:00.000-05:00

My project team is flying to the States next week and work is in overdrive. Hence, you get a video of some impressive billiards tricks from spikedhumor.com and a recommendation to head over to Steenblogen, who's been catching up on her posting with a vengeance.

Try it, you might like it.

2006-03-05T23:09:00.000-05:00

Bitch PhD, hands down one of the sharpest, most erudite bloggers out there, is conducting an informal survey of her readers. Always interested in sifting and parsing the sticky intersection of gender, sex, writing, publishing and the performance of gendered/sexed narration/media creation, Bitch PhD asked a series of questions designed to tease out her readers' personal loci of self-identification. There's probably a demographic motive as well, though I don't know if the aggregate data will be released.

Although I welcomed the survey (forwarded to me, of course, by Steenblogen), I fear my answers may disappoint. My avatar is pretty clearly gendered and besides, it's not like I have an audience of thousands-- or even dozens -- of strangers. Realistically, my readers are drawn from a small circle of friends: people who know me personally, rendering any attempt at anonymity moot (and silly). consequently, I wonder if I have anything to contribute to the conversation.

In any event, here are the questions and my answers:

1. In real life, are you a man / woman / other? (If "other," please explain.)

Man.

2. Do you blog under your own name or a pesudonym? (If your own name, skip questions 3 - 5.)

Pseudonym.

3. Is your pseudonym male / female / gender-neutral?

My name -- "lucky" -- is gender-neutral, but my avatar is male.

4. Is your persona male / female / gender-neutral? That is, apart from the name on the blog, do you blog about things that in your opinion clearly gender your blog? (Please give an example, e.g., "pregnancy," "knitting," "football.")

I don't feel that I explicitly gender my blog, but I've been told -- in person, by friends -- that the "tone" is usually masculine, whatever that means.

5. If you deliberately disguise your gender, or deliberately blog under a gender different from your "real life" gender identity, why?

N/A

6. Why did you decide to blog under your name / a persona?

Initially, I wanted to maintain a certain level of anonymity so I could talk about sensitive/personal topics without fear of having to deal with the consequences in the meat. Later, as I realized that the only people who read my blog regularly are friends and family whom I sent there, I decided that anonymity was moot.

7. What effects does your decision have on your content, if any?

I still try to avoid discussing sensitive situations and events.

8. Have you had readers mistake what you think the gender of your blog is? If so, would you characterize this mistake as rare, occasional, or common?

I can't be sure if this has ever happened.

9. If readers have mistaken your blog's gender, what kinds of comments / reactions has this mistake generated? (You can either characterize the reactions, or provide quotes.)

N/A.

10. Have you seen readers, including other bloggers that may have linked to you, assess your content in ways that specifically tie it to your gender? For example, a link that says "isn't this a typically male comment," or "this piece shows that women really can blog about politics."

I don't think so, no.

11. Can you characterize such assessment, if you have seen it, as generally positive, generally negative, or mixed?

N/A

12. If mixed, do you have a sense of what the difference might be based on? (E.g., do political opponents tend to dismiss / praise you in gendered ways?)

N/A

13. How long have you been blogging under this pseudonym?

Almost a year.

14. What is the url of your blog? (If you have had more than one blog under the same pseudonym, provide all urls, with dates.)

www.340mps.blogspot.com

15. What country do you live in? (If your nationality is not the same as your location, you may indicate either, or both--please indicate which.)

Québec, Canada.

16. May I quote your answers for publication?

Sure.

17. If yes, would you like the quotes attributed? If so, please indicate whether you would prefer to be identified by your pseudonym or your real name, and if the latter, whether you want your real name associated with your blog url.

Please attribute them to my pseudonym.

18. Finally, is there anything you would like to add about blogging, pseudonymity / nymity, personae, and gender?

The possibilities for anonymous interaction afforded by the Internet are unprecedented and still seeded with the potential to reinvigorate our bricks-and-mortar/flesh-and-bone realities. By hiding sexual, racial and class markers, we can gain entry to spaces otherwise denied to us and be shielded from ad hominem attacks and the premature dismissal of our ideas; unfortunately, we can also duck accountability for our words & actions. The optimist in me hopes that this new fluidity permits us all to "surf in another's shoes," but maybe I'm seeing the world through rose-coloured browsers.

In between loads of laundry.

2006-03-04T02:17:00.000-05:00

For the third time less than a week, C. and I drove down to Ottawa and back. This time, it was so she could deliver a kick-ass public talk. Part of Carleton University's Institute of Interdisciplinary Studies lecture series, her insightful, measured ruminations on sexuality, girlhood and the intersections of each within and around popular culture held the audience rapt for an hour.

Just like at her book launch, the lecture drew an unanticipated number of people: on a bitingly cold day, 50 people -- students, faculty and members of the public -- showed up. The atmposphere was deceptively casual and the assembled spectators/participants hung on her every word. I, as usual, was proud as hell.

* * *

Here's an interesting development for those among you interested in Canadian media: the National Campus and Community Radio Association, representing 35 campus and community radio stations across Canada, adopted a (non-binding) resolution calling on its members to guarantee thirty-percent female content on its airwaves. The complete Tyee article, "Push to Get More Female Content on the Radio: 'FemCon' regulations proposed" is kind of superficial, but they cover the main points -- and the objections.

Personally, my initial criticisms are logistical: what constitutes "female content"? Is Garbage a "female band"? How about the Stars, Metric or Catatonia? These kinds of identity categories always, inevitably get messy and weird.

More thoughts later.

Little bees.

2006-03-02T21:31:00.000-05:00

First, the good news: our new modem arrived in the mail and is up & running, four happy little green lights signalling our return to broad-banded happiness.

The bad news is that this cold has decided to stick around and worse, now C's infected as well. Add a busy travel schedule (to and from Ottawa on Sunday, again on Tuesday and again tomorrow) and a mountain of work in the office, and it's a wonder I can even read the paper, let alone write about anything that cranks me up.

At least I'm not alone: along with C. and myself, Grad School Avenger, Pacanukeha and Hurricane Eye all seem to have taken a (hopefully brief!) hiatus from the blogosphere.

Anyway, so you don't leave entirely empty-handed, check out this childhood-dream-turned-expensive-adult-reality.

WWGJD?

2006-02-27T15:38:00.000-05:00

Our modem's officially given up the ghost, so while we await our free replacement this place might get a bit dusty. Bear with me. Between a lack of Internet access and a burgeoning cold, I suspect this space may move at considerably less then its namesake speed for the next week or so.

However, others are not nearly as lethargic: overnight, 19 Québec priests have moved light years ahead of their colleagues:

Quebec priests challenge same-sex stand

Church has been wrong about political, social and sexual issues before, letter says

TU THANH HA

MONTREAL -- In an unusual public dissent with their leaders, 19 Quebec Roman Catholic priests published yesterday an open letter taking issue with the church's opposition to both same-sex marriage and the ordination of active gays into the priesthood.

Does the church "have the last word on the mysteries of political, social, family and sexual life?" the 980-word letter asks. "In these matters, the official teaching of the Church has shown itself more than once to be wrong."

One of the authors, Father Claude Lefebvre of the Saint-Étienne parish in Montreal, said the letter stemmed from a discussion group of Quebec priests who felt uneasy about the church's official discourse.

The complete Globe & Mail article is right here (will launch a new browser window).

...

2006-02-24T18:21:00.000-05:00

S.D. House Approves Abortion Ban Bill

Friday February 24, 2006 8:31 PM

By CHET BROKAW

Associated Press Writer

PIERRE, S.D. (AP) - The Legislature on Friday approved a ban on nearly all abortions in South Dakota, setting up a direct legal assault on Roe v. Wade.

Republican Gov. Mike Rounds said he was inclined to sign the bill, which would make it a crime for doctors to perform an abortion unless it was necessary to save the woman's life. The measure would make no exception in cases of rape or incest.

I don't remember the last time a simple newspaper article drove me to dry heaves in the men's room. I don't even know what to say, I'm stunned fucking speechless. Words completely fail me. Grad School Avenger had some choice words on the subject and Twisty -- bless her take-no-prisoners heart -- let rip with a righteous firestorm of bilious fury.

As for me, I kind of just want to cry. I suppose I could vent: I could spend all day ripping through this vile edict, but it wouldn't make me feel any better. I mean, what does this say about South Dakotans? They elected a legislature that

A) debated this perverse, hateful bill;
B) passed it.

And look what they're trying to protect: a mass of cells, a fucking zygote, a booger-sized piece of gelatinous biomatter. The condescension inherent in this law -- that women are incapable of consenting to an abortion -- is fucking medieval. I just... what do you say to something like this?! I can't dig deep enough for invective, the foulest stuff I'm coming up with sounds like a goddamn understatement.

I was wrong. "Screaming" in text is helping.

Hey, here's a novel idea: let's do something. After 9/11, Canada welcomed hundreds of American refugees. Ordinary people, terrified beyond measure, trapped in airplanes which had, in an instant, become symbols of raw hate and fiery death, were allowed to rest here. Remember the scenes from Gander? 6,500 Americans received a neighbour's welcome; clothed, fed and sheltered without a moment's hesitation simply because they needed help and those smiling Newfoundlanders were capable of offering it.

In the spirit of Gander, I'm offering my couch and unlimited hot soup to any South Dakotan woman who's seeing the familiar landscape of her home transformed into a nightmarish mirrorworld where her very humanity is in dispute.

Oxygen... fading...

2006-02-23T16:25:00.000-05:00

If more symphonies were thus conducted - with minotaurs set alight by a flock of burning crows - I imagine that interest in the medium would skyrocket.
- Tycho Brahe (II)

Our modem is pooched, so expect my updates to be sporadic for the next week or so. Given that I'm currently posting from work, I'll keep this brief.

From the "gimme gimme" files:

Can you imagine world without data compression? And where you never have to back anything up?

US inventor Michael Thomas, owner of Colossal Storage, hopes to achieve exactly that. He says he's the first person to solve non-contact optical spintronics which will in turn utlimately result in the creation of 3.5-inch discs with a million times the capacity of any hard drive - 1.2 petabytes of storage, to be exact.

To put that into perspective, mega is 1,024 times kilo, giga is 1,024 times mega, tera is 1,024 times giga and peta is 1,024 times tera.

Complete article is yonder.

Faced with this story, Pacanukeha responded:

I wonder if

a) that guy
or
b) IBM

were lying when they said they invented the idea of using spintronics for storage.

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

After re-reading the piece and digging a bit, I think it's a case of sloppy journalism and/or hasty editing of the article, instead of out-and-out mendacity. Regardless, the Wikipedia entry is a good read.

Don't be evil.Offer void where prohibited. Conditions apply.

2006-02-21T21:26:00.000-05:00

The Globe & Mail (along with pretty much every other paper in the country) is running the latest in the Internet-company-as-collaborator "scandal" that's been developing over the last few months.

(I use scare quotes 'cause there's nothing scandalous about corporations prioritizing profitability over human rights. The organizing principle of the corporation is to generate profits -- period.)

If you want to read the complete article, you'll get a little more context and an utterly specious argument from Liu Zhengrong, deputy chief of the Chinese government's Internet-affairs bureau -- but you've got the money quotes right here:

WASHINGTON -- Internet giants Yahoo, Microsoft, Google and Cisco were accused yesterday at congressional hearings of greedily collaborating with China's efforts to control Internet access and to track down dissidents.

"Your abhorrent actions in China are a disgrace," said Tom Lantos, a Democrat from California. As senior executives from the four Internet companies visibly squirmed, Mr. Lantos -- the only Holocaust survivor in the House of Representatives -- reminded them that International Business Machines had helped count Jews for the Nazis.

"IBM complied with lawful orders [in 1930s Germany]. . . . Was that shameful?" he asked, and then challenged each of the four companies to declare that they had done nothing "to be ashamed of" in China.

Yahoo, in particular has been singled out for co-operating with Chinese police, handing over information that led to the identification and imprisonment of at least two dissidents.

Kudoes to Rep. Lantos for not pulling his punches and going right for the jugular. The comparisons are apt and it's about time someone with the influence and power to be heard drew these kinds of parallels.

Environment ≠ space.

2006-02-20T22:09:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday, C. launched her book (Girlhood: Redefining the Limits) and I was lucky enough to be there, watching the dense group of attendees gel into a gathering, transforming from a collection of individuals into a social group. It was a warm, cheery event, in stark contrast to the wintery hell screaming its way through the streets outside.

Although I'm graced by -- and bask in -- C.'s awesomeness every day, it's a special pleasure to watch her receive the accolades and adulation of her peers, students and mentors. Baby, I'm proud of you.

* * *

We've been rearranging the furniture lately, trying to be more economical in our usage of space. Part of this process has involved letting go of artifacts from the past (AKA "junk"). I found this lantern at a garage sale around eight or nine years ago and picked it up for a buck.

It's just decorative, but I liked the colour and it was odd enough to be interesting. However, at some point it shifted states from "conversation piece" to "dust magnet", so now it's in the Sally Anne pile.

Since it's been a recognizable barnacle of mine for almost a decade, I thought it was worth cataloguing for posterity's sake.

2006-02-19T08:44:00.000-05:00

Continuing our ongoing mission to watch every creature feature that hits our local video store, C. & I rented The Cave last week. The premise is simple enough: sexy spelunkers search sombre, silent shadows for fantastic fame & fortune, find ferocious critters creating carnage and chaos.

Yeah, that's how the alliterati roll.

Anyway, the movie defied expectations and really delivered on its promise: the caverns (filmed on location in eastern Europe) are stunning, the threats posed by the subterranean environment feel genuine, the acting is up to par for the genre and the monsters are appropriately creepy. Featuring improvised weapons (instead of multi-barreled rocket-launching flamethrowers) and an almost-plausible rationale for the creatures, The Cave also reveals its ambition: it may be a B-grade monster flick, but it strives for some respectability.

With a nod to Pitch Black, The Thing and Alien, The Cave is a self-aware, satisfying romp. Four thumbs up.

Fuck yes.

2006-02-18T23:05:00.000-05:00

I hope that by now, my boundless -- and perhaps even slightly unhealthy -- adoration for Twisty Faster has become obvious. Along with Steenblogen and Bitch PhD (and, on a good day, Tycho Brahe), Twisty rocks the righteous rant like nobody's business.

Exhibit A: "Human Rights Post # 176":

Punishing women for getting pregnant is bloodsport in Dudeville. If you’re a teenager you get kicked out of school. If you’re working you get laid off. If you were raped your brothers kill you. If you’re a drug addict you get thrown in jail. If your kid has low birth weight you’re charged with neglect. If you get murdered your fetus gets more column inches than you do. Even if you’re a properly married Jesus-American lady, you get the stink-eye when you have a glass of Chardonnay at dinner, and you’re forced to wear unbelievably ugly clothes with bows on’em.

Preach on, sister.

* * *

And lo, but what is this? Interesting news coming out of the Olympics? Get the fuck outta town.

US and Canadian skiers get smart armour

A futuristic flexible material that instantly hardens into armour upon impact will protect US and Canadian skiers from injury on the slalom runs at this year's Winter Olympics.

Chekkitout.

Took the words right out of my mouth.

2006-02-17T11:06:00.000-05:00

This week's been a little crazy, so today all you get is a copied-and-pasted blurb from Mediascout which pretty well sums up my reaction to Ezra Levant's hypocritical stance regarding the roles and responsibilities of news media:

A NEW WESTERN STANDARD FOR PRESS FREEDOM?
by Joe Boughner
February 16, 2006

The critical eyes of the media have turned upon themselves in recent weeks. The publication of several caricatures of the prophet Muhammad in papers across the Western world prompted much debate about the role of the free press and the natural limits on those freedoms in the name of tolerance, respect and editorial credibility. In publishing the images in his Western Standard magazine, publisher Ezra Levant furthered that debate. Other publications published the images in defence of press freedom; Levant said he believed the media is responsible for telling the whole story and printing the images is part of that. For all the advances he made in the free press debate, however, Levant set himself and his cause back a few steps with his defence of the most recent controversy to come from his magazine. In justifying the printing of an anonymous quote suggesting Ralph Klein’s wife (a Métis) would go back to being “just another Indian” when the premier left office, Levant dismissed his critics saying it was just another case of “shoot the messenger.” Levant said Klein and his wife had every right to be upset with the unnamed “friend’ who made the comment, but that the Western Standard was just reporting what was said.

To reduce the role of the press to simply that of messenger is, at best, irresponsible. The media are responsible for what they print—both legally and ethically. The fact that the quote came from an anonymous source only makes Levant’s case weaker. What newsworthy element is added by having an anonymous source make a disparaging comment about the premier’s wife? Without passing judgement on the decision one way or the other, Levant’s case for printing the caricatures was in and of itself valid—a similar justification will likely be used if anyone questions the printing of more photos from Abu Ghraib despite the questionable news value (new photos don't necessarily represent evidence of new abuses). But his decision to absolve himself of responsibility for the “Indian” quote is an affront to the very freedom first cited in defence of the controversial cartoons. Press freedom exists so journalists can responsibly go in search of truth and challenge the status quo—not so anonymous sources can make inappropriate comments.

Classy.

2006-02-16T21:27:00.000-05:00

Amidst all the chest-thumping that's accompanied this year's Olympic games, it's pretty cool to see some good old-fashioned sportsmanship take center stage. I've always liked Norwegians.

Kickin' ass and taking names from beyond.

2006-02-15T19:50:00.000-05:00

So often, funerals for famous and/or historically-relevant figures are nothing more than forums for hackneyed sentimentality, wistful remembrances and mindlessly optimistic reconstructions of the deceased.

Not so at Coretta Scott King's memorial:

A DAY of eulogising Coretta Scott King turned into in-person rebuke of President George Bush, with civil rights and political leaders assailing White House policies as evidence that the dream of social and racial equality pursued by Mrs King and her slain husband, the Reverend Martin Luther King, is far from reality.

(...)

[former president Jimmy] Carter said: "It was difficult for them personally - with the civil liberties of both husband and wife violated as they became the target of secret government wiretapping, other surveillance, and as you know, harassment from the FBI."

Oh, touché Jimmy. While part of me's a little uncomfortable at the opportunistic nature of some of the comments, I somehow think that Mrs. King would've approved. Her family certainly did and by all accounts they were close-knit, in love as in activism.

The entire article is available on the Sydney Morning Herald's website.

On the whole, a mixed bag.

2006-02-14T13:04:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day -- enjoy the planet while it lasts:

Iran crosses 'red line' in nuclear stand-off

Iran has started to inject uranium feedstock gas into centrifuges at its Natanz nuclear facility, crossing an internationally agreed "red line" on the path to producing the material for atomic weapons.

A senior diplomat from the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) confirmed that researchers at the republic's pilot enrichment plant in central Iran had taken the crucial step, signalling a major escalation in the long-running face-off between Tehran and the West.

Complete UK Times article here.

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On the other hand, maybe there's hope for the species yet: the lovely, brilliant, debonair, excruciatingly talented Sir Ian McKellan had these choice words for the Berlin Film Festival press corps:

"It is very, very, very difficult for an American actor who wants a film career to be open about his sexuality," the gay British actor said.

"And even more difficult for a woman if she's lesbian. It's very distressing to me that that should be the case."

The entire BBC piece is right here.

Since he came out in 1988, Sir Ian has never missed an opportunity to speak out on gay-rights issues (witness his dressing-down of Blair's Labour government for their "appaling" policies), and as a result I always get a little shiver of anticipation when someone presents him with an award. I'm especially happy that he explicitly raised the gender flag, which so few ~~gay~~ men are willing to do. Homophobia -- like racism, classism and all those other icky -isms -- is always gendered, but somehow it's easy to disappear women from the equation. Kudoes to Sir Ian for remembering what words like "context" and "solidarity" actually mean.

It's buying in.

2006-02-13T22:19:00.000-05:00

"You got peanut butter on my wiki!"

"No, your wiki's in my peanut butter!"

(in unison) "It's Peanut Butter wiki!"

I -- like all right-thinking people -- am enamoured of the wiki, conceptually. As a means of organizing data, I think it holds vast potential. That's why I was eager to try out Peanut Butter Wiki: a free, easy-to-use wiki with up to 10 Mb of online storage.

Before I continue lauding PBwiki, a caveat:

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Start Disclaimer

Although the above statements regarding Peanut Butter wiki (and those that follow this disclaimer) reflect my honest assessment of the product, I am writing this in response to the following offer, sent to me by The PBwiki Team:

Here's how it works: Between now and February 15, 2006, we'll double your storage space if you write about PBwiki and link to http://www.pbwiki.com. This can be on a blog, an email newsletter, or anything else online. (Please don't spam anyone.)

(...)

please write honestly about what you use PBwiki for, and what you like and don't like. We are always improving PBwiki and want to get honest feedback from our users.

So, as you can see, I'm marketing this because there's something in it for me. However, I really do think PBwiki is pretty cool. Anyway...

End Disclaimer

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Although I use PBwiki for entertainment purposes, it's got a hundred applications, like family genealogies, to-do lists, collaborative research projects, online novels, a FAQ for a homebrewed project, repository for a meticulously-organized media collection... the possibilities are endless.

Considering it's both free and ridiculously easy to use (they're not kidding when they say it takes seconds to get started), deciding whether or not to try it out should be a no-brainer. You've really got nothing to lose.

Cuz agreeing with conservatives makes people itch.

2006-02-12T18:04:00.000-05:00

L. Ian MacDonald, a freelance writer with a semi-regular small-c conservative column in the Montréal Gazette, had a few interesting points to make the other day. In an article entitled "Tory B team back in charge," MacDonald, a big-c Conservative supporter, highlights just how badly the Tories dropped the ball last week:

The Conservatives, who looked so competent during the campaign, have looked incompetent during their first week in office. In order to get the message out, there first has to be a message. The absence of a message is even worse than being off message.

The full text of the article is here (will launch a new browser window).

Between Harper's controversial cabinet picks and his refusal to accept that his life is now public property, the Tory leader has demonstrated just how ill-prepared he was for his new job.

While I'd be much happier seeing Smilin' Jack sitting at the PM's desk, we have to make do with what we've got (at least for now) and I'm willing to give Harper a chance. The least he could do is meet me halfway.

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This is so fucking awesome I'm speechless. From the artists' statement:

Rotterdam-based photographer Ari Versluis and stylist Ellie Uyttenbroek have worked together since October 1994. Inspired by a shared interest in the striking dress codes of various social groups, they have systematically documented numerous identities over the last 8 years. Rotterdam's heterogeneous, multicultural street scene remains a major source of inspiration for Ari Versluis and Ellie Uyttenbroek, although since 1998 they have also worked in cities abroad.

They call their series Exactitudes: a contraction of exact and attitude. By registering their subjects in an identical framework, with similar poses and a strictly observed dress code, Versluis and Uyttenbroek provide an almost scientific, anthropological record of people's attempts to distinguish themselves from others by assuming a group identity. The apparent contradiction between individuality and uniformity is, however, taken to such extremes in their arresting objective-looking photographic viewpoint and stylistic analysis that the artistic aspect clearly dominates the purely documentary element.

Check it out. No, seriously -- check it out.

Getcher geek on.

2006-02-11T15:04:00.000-05:00

So Dave Chappelle loves WoW, huh? Thanks to game+girl=advance for the link. From the GameSpot article:

"You know what I've been playing a lot of?" the comedian reportedly asked the crowd. "World of Warcraft!" When a few cheers broke out, he reportedly responded, "I knew I had some geek brothers and sisters up in here!"

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The Internet Speculative Fiction Database? Why wasn't I informed sooner?!