Dubyah from the Block - 28/7/2003
I don't like to draw racial lines but this is what the Americans do. Instead of a collective nation of people, there has always been a division between black and white. Though there are other outstanding issues that need attention, this is the one that makes the news (and has the most potential when humiliating a Bush doll). According to the most recent census, taken in 2000, approximately 13% of the population is Black, that's 36.4 million people of African descent or partially of it...though of course, how many people do you know that actually returned their census form the last time those went around? Nevertheless, in all likelihood George W could have been born an average African-American citizen instead of into his privileged position of the present as yet another one of the esteemed Bush family. Let's stretch those imaginations today, folks and picture the great POTUS as Dubyah from the Block. Cue: creepy music.
As the average African-American man only earns 75% of the salary of his Caucasian counterpart, let's assume that Dubyah and his siblings live quite far from the dreamy notion of a white picket fence and a dog named Spot. Perhaps it's because his father never completed high school but that is generally what happens to children in broken homes when drugs, abuse, and poverty are involved. Or there's always the possibility that his employer is another unfortunate racist. The point is, with a mother who earns almost as much as a White woman (but comparatively less than male co-workers) and a father that slaves away for only three quarters of what others are paid, Ivy League schools are laughable. I'm sorry Dubyah, but without the cash, political influence, or intelligence, that MBA from Harvard of your former life is barely in sight.
What was that? A scholarship, you say? Remember who we're talking about here. With the tactful brilliance Georgie has displayed thus far in his real career, I highly doubt that anything but large bribes would get that kid entry into any elite university. On top of that it is possible that Dubyah would be suffering from developmental problems due to iron deficiency or elevated levels of lead in his environment. In poor Black families 5% of children suffer from iron deficiency in their diet. Because iron is involved with the workings of the brain, during the early stages of childhood this lack of nutrients can have adverse effects on the brain and behavior. Even in studies involving treatment for anemia in later years, children in their rapid stages of growth who did not get enough iron still fell behind their peers intellectually. Though 5% doesn't seem to be a great deal, it's still double the number of cases found in poor White families despite the fact that it is completely preventable with iron-infused baby formula and other such products available.
For hundreds of years people have known of lead's toxicity and yet 22% of poor Black children in America suffer neurological damage or even death from lead poisoning due to unsafe products like paints that contain lead. Following the cycles of modern society you'll see that such developmental problems stem from poverty, hinder a full and successful education, prevent a sustainable career, and lead to yet another impoverished generation.
And we haven't even touched on the dreaded term of late racial profiling. According to statistics of the 90's, the possibility for a Black man to be convicted on a charge of felony was 28.5% while only 4.4% for White men. Yes there are bits of criteria that make a person suspect to a crime but you can't lump race amongst them since there isn't any actual proof that Black men commit these crimes. Botched police investigations, biased juries, it all goes downhill from there...and though it is likely that Black men do commit more crimes, it's obviously because there are a great deal more of them that live in poverty and are at a disadvantage. I could go into the driving force of materialism drilled in by mass marketing into this particular generation and inflated pricing on brand name goods but we all know the deal. Why buy when you can steal? Face it, America nourishes its own thieves with negligence and then spends the money to convict and incarcerate them.
Let's not even call forth images of smashed windows, roaring infernos, and swarms of angry people. Cut to: Rodney King, just another drunken idiot who didn't stop for the police and then got beaten to a pulp. Welcome to L.A., city of angels and reputedly discriminatory and brutal policemen. It's not worth discussing, just another media fiasco that turned into a 6 day riot and global outrage.
Anyway, I've rambled on enough but I promised full colour photos. I give you, Dubyah as a Black man.
New and improved fun for the whole family - 25/7/2003
I'm not going to allow Donald Rumsfield and his new bag of gruesome tricks to sidetrack this little rant because those four photos aren't even worth discussing. All that needs to be said has been done through the media's actions during the past 12 hours or so, salivating over pictures of two ravaged, bloodied corpses like the bunch of sadistic bastards that they are. Don't tell me that the plastic-coated, paved over Western world isn't clean of barbarism.
Anyway, on to something I've been meaning to whine about for quite a while now. I'm sure we've all noticed it from our court side seats at the TV; while wandering the mall aimlessly; in the crowded halls of our favorite institutions; and under the beating sun of the downtown streets.
Punk and the newly coined
Emo are slowly worming their way into cultural and the music charts beside the baggy clothes and curvy girls of the hiphop nation. And with it all, the usual gear: the spikes, the studs, the leather. Harness leather with a D-ring used to be a commodity to be bought with a hushed sort of air over the Internet and shipped in an inconspicuously wrapped package to its new and eager owner. Now
Claire's, the girly pink store of fuzzy princess icons and hideously flagran-wot carpet, has a section towards the back dedicated to its consumer group of wannabe Avril Lavignes and punk rockers. From laughable rubber spiked cuffs to glittery stud rings and linked crosses attached to something that definitely isn't leather. I mean, c'mon...talk about mindless stupid people who just follow a trend. This is the store that offers cupcake charms, Neopets merchandise, and various accessories that have
Angel emblazoned on them. Do you think the average fluff-brained girl who walks into that flowery monstrosity has any idea, much less appreciation about the sub-culture behind leather and steel rings? And yes, by sub-culture I do mean BDSM. Repeat after me if you're over 13, kids: bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism. This isn't just some messed up hillbilly thing from
Pulp Fiction involving sodomy and some poor leatherclad captive called the Gimp in the basement of a pawnshop but a legitimate sort of society for the 18 and over party. Cat-o-nine tails, bullwhips, tawses, floggers...it all sounds like good fun stuff but what the hell does that have to do with Avril's pseudo-skater/punk persona or the not-so-satanic boys of Sum41? Well folks, there was a time before ours when punk was underground and some of it meshed with masochistic influences. Hence the bondage, wild piercing, and Goths that are gradually becoming
dumbed down to a commercial level that the majority of teenagers can understand, like, and hand their cash over for. I highly doubt Pierre Bouvier of Simple Plan really wants to become some Top's bodmod boy but hey...the punk-pop scene is all about spiked cuffs these days. My point? It's all just rather tragic that something authentic and intriguing gets watered down into another passing trend for a large part of today's arena spectators. Like Mendhi converted into temporary Henna tattoos available at Wonderland and school fair booths, this world has discarded so much true culture for something pale in comparison just for the masses to devour.
Grim Fairy Tales and Lessons in Child-rearing - 23/7/2003
Not only did he use democracy as an excuse to fulfill his dreams as a secret oil baron while pushing thousands of innocent Iraqi lives aside, but Bush has also inadverdently ruined my plans for today's random thoughts with his shiny new image as the alpha-male heading a pack of gun-slinging bounty hunters by going after Uday and Qusay Hussein on Tuesday. Well, I could always try to mix and match with the two topics though...can you really imagine George W ball-gagged, however much good it would do the world to have him shut up for once? There are just some lines that will never be crossed, doll or no doll.
Anyway, from old Indian men speaking rather loudly in a bus shelter to fighting over the Star in the broom closet of a staff room at work, there just isn't an end to the three ringed circus unicycling merrily around Bush and Hussein. So you didn't find your fictitious weapons of mass destruction, Mr. Bush...what's a man to do? His answer: throw a temper tantrum. But instead of 2 year old Johnny throwing various chunks of Lego at his bewildered parents, being the great president of the United States, Bush gets bigger toys to chuck around unceremoniously...from an array of Tomahawk missiles to other big boys I wouldn't want to tumble with on any day of the week. Now what does any sensible parent do with a violent and hysterical child? Well depending on individual opinion and preference, a good caning or at least a time-out in the corner is something well-desllerved. Did the American people, the UN, or other possible parental figures step in to reprimand our kicking and screaming Georgie-pie? No, the shrieking got worse, more casualties were exacted, and eventually the whole damn house just came crashing down. And even after all that huffing and puffing Bush didn't get his succulent roast pork dinner. Not much of a bedtime story and hardly redeeming in the fact that it doesn't end there.
There's no need to repeat the rest of the stories detailing a failed conquest ending with this twisted sort of milestone where two notorious corpses amongst many form the X that marks the spot. Bush has been swerving out of control for some time now in Iraq and the the killing of the Hussein sons is just a callous attempt of a display of power that'll ultimately end up stirring more unrest in the streets and psyche of the Iraqi people.
What every good girl gets for her Barbie - 21/7/2003
Remember when the world used to make sense? No? I didn't think so either but would it be too much of a stretch to say that things are progressively making less sense? Take for instance our darling Mr. Bush and his role as president. If we dig through various sheafs of mental notes I think that most of you will be able to recall that the United States as all developed countries is a nation with a government organized in the democratic fashion. And sifting deeper through the fluffy contents of your skull, you may just remember that the key to a successful democracy lies in its ability to represent the people...or so we'd all like to believe. From there on it becomes a not so simple matter of logic. How many people do you know personally that have had partial ownership of a major league baseball team? Or maybe had $2.5 million in real estate at their disposal? How about their own oil and gas company? An estimated worth of 16.9 million dollars, even? A mere million in cash? No!?! Well why would you vote for someone who has more wealth, opportunity, and influence than you can even dream of? Bush Jr. doesn't know what the average American family is like...he didn't have to fight his way to the top with polished brilliance, a touch of charisma, a love for his nation, and a rusty crowbar (which is more than what the US government has to offer to American children). He was born to privelege and power, shielded by the might of his father's influence and the Bush name. The only thing that keeps him afloat now is the old man's arthritic cronies. He has no idea what it is to work as a mindless drone (ok, maybe I should rethink that) at an office desk from 9-5 in cube land or what it's like to be a young single mother struggling with two jobs or to be a minority and victim of endless racial profiling and discrimination. Do you honestly think that George W has even considered what it would be like to be seriously mentally ill and cast off into the street, living homeless in harsh winter months? He is the king of the silver platter...the struggle of true accomplishment is entirely unknown to this man. The welfare of society is not a priority for him, even if the rest of the world collapses on itself I'm sure that his money will buy him the comfort of his excessive concept of necessity. If you were aiming to elect a spoiled, ignorant bottom-feeder then I give you my most hearty congratulations.
So I've brought a few little factoids and hopefully some obvious points to your feet today, kids...big deal, you've seen it all through my long months of blue-in-the-face ranting, right? Well folks, I don't have any fat ladies to bring down the house for you tonight but I promise you that in the spirit of the decay of reason, this is one product of my insanity yet to be seen.
I seem to be talking to my dangling carrots more than anything these days but I suppose that somewhere out there (down a 30-minute stretch of road) I do have some budding supporters who knew that a talking George W Bush doll was a gift that definitely would not collect dust in my hands. Gummi bears, madmen, net junkies, and goons...this is the introduction of a short series of articles soon to be written about Dubyah as a true American citizen with full colour photos. No more designers suits and secret service to cover your ass, Mr. Bush. I grant you true citizenship in the United States of America.
There he is, 29 cm or so of Chinese child labour in plastic. And if you think I've finally slipped into the sludge of illiteracy, well, you hope for too much.
Of coarse in the quotation above is taken straight off the side of the doll's box featuring random bits of recorded text that it says with the push of a button. Shameful, really.
Like the Blitzkrieg on the roll - 20/7/2003
So I haven't been on the movie scene lately...but can anyone really come after me with a paddle for that when the best things the silver screen has to offer is men in variously shaded tights come to flesh from the might of ink or more cutesy chicks feigning attitude, intelligence, and kick-ass fighting abilities while prancing around the set half naked and trying to pass themselves off as some sort of role models. There may be a few morsels worth a couple chews out there but with stale popcorn and large crowds of obnoxious people served in this combo, I think I might as well look elsewhere for entertainment.
This is where divine intervention strikes lightning rod style...I was flipping through the pathetic TMN line-up when the wacky title etched in my memory from the recommendation of a particularly intriguing person popped on to the schedule
Hedwig and the Angry Inch. This is why I wasted a pack and a half of gummi bears on the sidewalk in front of my house.
I've never seen anything so oddly endearing, insane, and wildly fun...though the fact that it is a film adaptation of John Cameron Mitchell's off-broadway stage musical of the same name does explain some of that. The first 10 minutes of the movie display more creativity and talent than the entirety of most anything Roeper and Ebert jerk their thumbs up for. There's nothing that's grotesquely overdone emotionally; the humour ranges from subtle to blatantly dirty; the characters are surprisingly believable and not plastic, glossy role models; and John Cameitseron Mitchell is an absolute goddess.
No, I haven't suddenly gotten my gender vocab irreversibly skewed, this is where the real fun starts. Hedwig's life begins as Hansel Schimdt, the little East German boy who grew up listening to the American legends of the rock 'n' roll era, aspiring to be like them. As a young man, the opportunity to escape the Communist regime arises when he meets the American G. I., Luther Robinson. They speak of love, escape, and the grand sugar rush of freedom. However, in order to marry him and leave East Berlin, Hansel undergoes a sex change operation which goes awry at the lacking expertise of a foot doctor, leaving her with a one inch mound of flesh. Hansel, now Hedwig having assumed his mother's name with her passport, goes off with Luther anyway, only to be abandoned in a Kansas trailer park for another young man. However, she doesn't despair for long, continuing on with her dream of rock 'n' roll fame and the quest for her other half but that's best saved for the movie since my synopsis obviously doesn't do it much justice. You'll have to trust me with this one since excepting
Pulp Fiction,
Fight Club, and other such titles, my praise for film production is pretty sparse. The soundtrack, especially the louder numbers like
Exquisite Corpse and
Angry Inch, was key to my survival during the past five days. The lyrics whether simplistic or clever convey a sense of power and exhileration in combination with the music, all thanks to the handiwork of Stephen Trask. This is something worthy of another insane theme party and devout worship. Long live Hedwig and her
gummi bearchen!
1697 kilometers later... - 19/7/2003
So I'm not exactly kissing the depressing excuse for a lawn outside, but it is nice to be home again...and surprisingly, all
in one piece. Family vacations call for true survival instincts as well as some handy items like obtrusively loud yet good
loud CDs to ignore the blatant fact that nobody in the car knows where the hell we're going or decent reading material for
when you finally come to admit that sleep is futile with chainsaw-like snoring going on in the next room. I have unbelievable
amounts of business to catch up on plus a few new surprises for my
fan club here and so I suppose you'll have to wait for
my digicam shots to be edited in order to hear of my shameful and ungainly blunderings in this dear bilingual country of mine...
though of course there isn't any need to relate the horrors of academic French that have driven most of us to the refuge of
anglais or soundly deposited us into the world of piñatas and
Hey-zeus/sauerkraut and fifty letter words. If
you haven't guessed it already, I knight thee Sir Stuffing-for-Brains with a good thwack to the head…I've been spending the
past five days or so wandering around the streets of Montréal and Québec City or trying to find my way there and back. There's nothing better to warm up a foggy brain in the morning than with a tangled mass of one-way streets leading everywhere
but the McGill campus. I can't wait 'til the days of pre-cog and roads that do the driving but
Minority Report was an
entirely overrated movie anyway...
From the front lines... - 12/7/2003
Been in the trench for three weeks now and leave will not be granted until tomorrow afternoon. Avoided most combat
situations until this morning around 8:00 when large groups of the heavily armed enemy were encountered. Unloading round
after round at them, their chaotic lines would still not abate, closing in on us from all directions, wave after wave.
Sustained a flesh wound over the right rib cage by a misfired cappucino machine and some minor burns. No other casualties of
prominence reported. Supplies are running low though shipments are due and expected soon. There must be something about
sesame seed bagels that send them scurrying away. Sewage problems have caused some efficiency reduction as well as the
greeness of the summer troops. They have a lot of hardening ahead of them. Surprisingly, none have fled in cowardice though
all complain of severe fatigue. It is believed that customers have also exhausted themselves and their financial flow for
several days and so reinforcements will not be needed. Tomorrow's duties will involve assessing damage, cleaning up the
field, and preparing for a renewed attack next Saturday.
potato girl - 32nd artillery
Green eggs and what? - 10/7/2003
Before you condemn me to the stake, at least hear me out. If the only books within an arm's reach were 300 pages in length, had frosted artsy covers, dragged on about mundane, idiotic people with the odd schizophrenic wedged in, and had been lent to you by someone disappointingly sane - ie: adult contemporary fiction…you too would be desperate enough to read something like Harry Potter. Ok, so that was pretty low of me not to mention a month behind everyone else who bothered to read it but hell,
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was pretty damn good, for a children's book of course. Now before the fans out there can get all prickled about that last comment, I'm sorry, but as wonderfully imaginative and captivating as it is…the concepts are simple. Like the rest of the series, the main themes include camaraderie and the good old fashioned struggle between the forces of darkness and the righteous…all of which are nice building blocks for feisty eight year-old readers in terms of general conduct and morality in life. Though it explores deeper concepts like wizard superiority amongst the races of the world, it is portrayed with mere brush strokes adding dimension to the book. Even the style in which it is written is very open and light-hearted, hardly allowing for complex depths.
Harry himself is rather well-developed this time around…facing the slander of the Daily Prophet and the prejudice dealt towards him by fellow students, acting like the insensitive lump that most fifteen year-old guys are, and combating self-doubt as well as a new score of colourful villains. Again, he is presented as a surprisingly ordinary boy whose performance isn't exceptional at Hogwarts, still gets bullied, but somehow still manages to prevail in his dangerous adventures.
I could sing Potter praises for a least another few hundred words more (though Filch as Mr. Bondage is questionable) but I can't say as much for the literacy skills of people my age. It was nice that these undeniably well-written books sparked interest in people of all ages to adopt the habit of reading again but I think it's rather shameful for a bunch of teenagers to be obsessing over books people half my height pour over with just as much enthusiasm. The fact that the Canadian government doesn't see the value of in-school libraries and teacher-librarians doesn't help with that either. Skimming over the Star editorials lately, people have been pointing out pretty obvious statistics showing that libraries encourage more children to read at a greater level and that many schools either don't have libraries or end up with lunch money budgets so that the facilities are full of photocopied books or tattered wrecks for children to read. The average amount of money spent on books per child in schools across Canada can range anywhere from 80 cents to $35. I can't even buy a can of pop at the cafeteria anymore for 80 cents…that would maybe cover a black and white photocopy of a very brief picture book.
I do not like them,
Sam-I-am.
I do not like
green eggs and ham.
Would you like them
here or there?
I would not like them
here or there.
I would not like them
anywhere.
I do not like
Like what? A cliffhanger ending and another deprived childhood courtesy of the careless squandering of tax dollars...that's what we don't like.
There's nothing wrong with a few light, fun reads every now and then but Harry Potter is for buck-toothed nine year olds. If you want truly amazing fantasy try something like The Wheel of Time series or my personal favorite, The Ruins of Ambrai…I mean, even Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials provides greater thought spectrum than what J. K. Rowling has to offer. A must read, though rather contemporary and a 20th Century historical fiction, is
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. Don't be driven away just because it's been branded as one of those Oprah Club books, it's actually decent and worth reading.
If you think reading is boring and a waste of time but you've gotten this far in my rant, congratulations and here are some simple inferences for you intellectual capacity. The only ways you'll ever get what you want is either by gaining a vast inheritance by luck to pay your way through life or by communicating elegantly and effectively with other people. To minimize your barbaric grunts and wild gesturing that may frighten off prospective boyfriends/girlfriends or employers, you're just going to have to expose yourself to a little eloquent writing and pick it up by and by. My romantic advice doesn't go much further than that.
So it's not exactly anthrax...
Can I get your phone number? And where are you currently staying? Postal code, please? No, my internet stalking days have come
to a halt...this is just a short demonstration of the sorts of information you normally don't dole out to just anyone swerving down the street
who actually has the nerve to ask. As late night documentaries will tell you, modern technology has become a threat to privacy
whether it comes in the form of a sly spy cam hidden with lurid intent or a police wire tap on a phone line, we're no longer safe.
And so yet again, we live in an age of paranoia where we would never willingly disclose information upon request to perfect strangers,
right? Unfortunately, that isn't quite the case.
Remember those discount cards that you can get for free at the Bay or Sears or certain grocery stores? Or how about the clothing
stores that ask for your address and phone number after you've made your purchase? What exactly do you call that? Wow, collect membership
points so that you can get...half a treadmill after 10 years of steadfast purchasing? These companies hardly care about a few free
items that people will claim every now and then, after all, the trade off works well to their advantage. They get to collect all of
your personal information, an excellent opportunity to bombard you with useless flyers, as well as the privilege of tracking your
spending habits...not only at their store but the number of other chains that are operated by the same corporation. In a world
such as this, information is priceless. Based on the millions of figures generated by consumer purchases, they can gear their
promotions for optimal sales, since they already know what you're willing to buy. I suppose at my age it's not much of a concern
but I plan to leave a very light paper trail of my existence behind.
The same goes for the clothing stores that take down your information every time you make a purchase. More flyers to heave into the
recycling bin at the end of the week and more information tracking. Out of practicality I had to get a dress for some occasions coming
up that require a touch of formality so off into the throngs of colourful victims that inhabit shopping malls it was. After finally
finding something that didn't make my eyes water and departing with my dearly earned cash I was about to leave it at that when the
dreaded interrogation began. Of course, following the good guidelines of the mind-boggling and insane, I answered her questions with
my questions. At least stores could train salespeople properly in coming up with decent explanations for needing your home address.
Well...for updating the computer and things like that, you know... is hardly what I would call adequate cover-up for hoarding
personal information. Again, repeat this after me children,
consumer awareness. Anything a corporation offers is solely
for its own benefit or at least outweighs whatever you may receive in return which means they want sales, they want publicity,
they want your bloody cash. Nothing gets simpler than that.
So when faced with the adversities caused by hyperactive salespeople, what do we do? Throw it right back at 'em, baby. Relatively
plausible addresses made up on the spot do nicely, or how about that horrid neighbour who only cuts his side of the lawn when you
give yourself over to sinus allergies every time you trim the whole damn thing, or better yet, one of those annoying, sniveling people
at school who are only
oh so cute in the eyes of that fascist monster of a teacher. Who ever seems to deserve the butt end of your
vengeance these days could definitely use more junk mail...and not knowing their address is a pathetic excuse. If you're really that desperate, I might be able to help
out, though only in the name of corporate diversion of course. If all else fails and you can't be creative you can always use this:
400 Bloor Street East
Mississauga, Ontario
L5A 3M8
All right, I'm not that terrible...come up with your own standard fakes.
I do not accept George W. Bush as my personal saviour - 7/7/2003
Someone smack me or grab a bucket to douse me with some water, will you? Either all that sugar has gotten to my head or George Bush is actually doing
something right. This is a milestone, people! Break out the champagne and I'll dig up some phone numbers, this calls for a celebra...
no, I'm not buying this for more than half of a second. You can't tell me that the man who spun illusions for the world about weapons
of mass destruction to get his grubby hands on Iraqi oil and settle an old vendetta of his father's at the price of thousands of
civilian is going to be the walk-on-water savior of western Africa. The tingling behind my eyes might just be the effects of
Toronto air pollution but it may as well indicate an obvious rift in the world of logic.
I myself am only just beginning to see how torn Africa truly is, how the traces of European colonialism and slavery still linger
painfully within Africa's nations. The issue that many are commending Bush about started 14 years ago in 1989 when Charles Taylor
invaded Liberia from the neighbouring borders of the Ivory Coast, seizing control over the already strained country. Since then, the country
has been caught in the strife of civil war with hundreds of thousands of civilians killed in the armed coflicts between those who backed Taylor
and those who were against his unlawful succession to power. In addition to this, Taylor has been accused of helping to sustain
the wars in bordering countries Sierra Leone, the Ivory Coast, and Guinea through the illicit trade of diamonds for weaponry, earning
him an indictment for war crimes. His disdain towards international law also spurred the UN to impose trading embargoes and
travel restrictions on Liberia throughout the years.
Liberia became the first independent Black republic formed in 1847 with the support of the American Colonization
Society in a joint effort with local leaders to reestablish freed slaves in their homeland. Some lay the blame for Liberia's
slow unravelling towards the United States, saying that they should have taken the responsibility of guiding the new country
forward as European countries had done with their respective former colonies. Now we could go as far as saying that Bush is trying to
make amends for the past as well as bridging divides that were forced into being with the war in Iraq with his recent declaration
that Taylor must leave the country immediately but with his actions over the course of this year, it seems that that would be
scraping wistfully at bare rock.
Though Bush's tour of five African nationals scheduled this week and his consideration of legitimately sending US troops to Liberia
to ease the leadership transition seem to bear good intentions, there is still the matter of the valuable natural resources within
these countries...and also as many would bring up, the issue of allowing readily available drugs into Africa for AIDS treatment,
to exempt it from the complications of free trade policies. Nothing short of an epiphany would change Bush's attitude towards the
rest of the world so I seriously have my doubts, but perhaps this sudden burst of publicity for Africa will have the desired effect
to pressure Bush into doing something for the African people.
Yet another plague that anti-biotics aren't going to fix - 5/7/2003
Now this is why I try to avoid TV. Not only is the main cache of snacking items conveniently laid
out downstairs within an arm's reach of various sofas and the entertainment spectrum limited to angst-filled teens, questionable
interior designers, and women used as visually-enhancing not-exactly-potted plants but I have to deal with the
heart-warming set at
curdling milk commercials crammed in between.
Yes, I can see all of your eyes bulging in a manner reminiscent to a person I'd rather like to forget. When was the last time
commercials were ever even slightly touching much less gag-worthy pieces of work, you ask...well despite the fact that most commercials
revolve around either the not-so-potted plant category or weak pitches of humour, it's good old American Wal-Mart that takes the cake,
not that flashback black and white Schneiders commercial. I don't know how long this ad campaign has been going on, with my on and off
TV habits, but the results are grotesque with their unrealistic attempts to connect at a human level to a variety of people that are
prey to their cold-hearted market.
I was alternating between MuchMegahits and the Simpsons hoping to find a case for a rant I had in mind when the latest in Wal-mart's
line of pseudo-sincerity and neighbourly cheer tried to grab my wallet right out of my pants. At least pickpockets make their
attempts subtle. The commercial opens up with a bunch of guys at a half pipe and goes on in a narration from one of these professed
skaters about the importance of the sport in their lives and the rush of pride that they get our of accomplishing new feats. It goes
on to mention the rainy days when they can't get out there and do what they love. Their solution is simple, go to Wal-Mart and
choose from a wide selection of games at a guaranteed low price so that they can still fire up their creativity, coming up with
new stunts that they'll transfer to the half pipe once the weather lets up. Sickening, absolutely sickening. What sort of real
rebellious and anti-conformist skaters would ever endorse an ugly corporation like Wal-Mart? Though the world of skating is getting
admittedly more commercial just like all sports, I hope to someone out there that it hasn't come down to this yet. This is just
another sad stumbling through the dark for Wal-Mart, trying to conjure up a warm image. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
If not weak-kneed skaters then how about the storyline detailing a financially troubled Wal-Mart customer who turned to one of
the employees that she had become familiar with while she was in the midst of preparations for her wedding. What a kind soul that
minimum-wage labourer must have been, risking her health every day for 50 bucks or so in the face of teetering merchandise AND
lending her wedding dress to the unfortunate customer. Upon searching for information about Walmart commercials I came upon a site,
walmartsurvivor.com, spotlighting the story of a woman crippled by a Wal-mart employee
and the cover-up that ensued as well as investigative statistics about the number of employees and customers that were injured because
of falling or dropped boxes. I highly doubt that between dodging falling items for their lives or keeping inherent clumsiness
in check for fear of lawsuits that they really have time to make small talk with regular customers much less dole out precious momentos
from those rare instances that were Wal-Mart-less.
Aside from various injuries inflicted across Wal-Mart chains another popular accusation is credited towards the stores are frequent
false accusations of shoplifting. These events include people who were accused out of the blue by theft-prevention employees to those
who were wrongly snagged by store greeting people while the real thieves jaunted away. Along with such situations are allegations of unnecessary
brutality from Wal-Mart employees and even one case of a real shoplifter who claims that on the witness stand the employee spun a set
of vicious lies for the court's judge, citing violence on the shoplifter's part though apparently it had been the other way around.
It seems that over a relatively short period of time, Wal-Mart has become a corporate parasite of society, expanding to every corner
of the US and Canada while shutting down local retailers. That, though, is for Naomi Klein to tell. If you're feeling literate
today, pick up a copy of
No Logo at the library. It may not be crazy Michael Moore humour but it will force your eyes
open with pliers if necessary.
From commercials depicting budgeting university students that proclaim Wal-Mart is cool to a housewife's move to a move to a new home only
secured by the comfort of another local Wal-Mart...you have to admit that the coporation does try. However, stories of caring employees,
familiarity, and the overall attempt to be part of the community is like building a golf course on top of of landfill (hey, it
happened around here), it still stinks.
Forget H.G. Wells, it's war against the world - 4/7/2003
The last thing I feel like having to slog through is another age of sci-fi and UFO speculation. Luckily I wasn't around for the
last bout of that but with the recent discovery of a planet similar in characteristics to Jupiter orbiting a sun-like star of
about the same age 94 light years away, the prospects of outer space and the colonization of planets might just be sparked
again...Star Trek invading prime time TV during my childhood was enough as is. The actual significance of the discovery that was
just announced in Paris lies in the theory that since our solar system and this newly discovered one seem to have been made under
conditions relatively the same, the possibility of an Earth-like planet cannot be ruled out. The astronomers will have to use a
different method to detect the presence of any other planets between the gas giant and the sun since they would be significantly
smaller in size.
Though I suppose speculations of intelligent life in space are on the premature side, it brings me to a few points of relevance...
what would we say to a group of sentient beings about the human race as a whole? What sort of accomplishments can we boast of
that have been made with our existence on Earth? Would greedy ambitions stir the soul of imperialism from its fresh grave to
plunder anew from a pristine planet? Just looking at our track record, you'd hardly think that we'd be developed as a society
well enough to handle the prospects of an untouched world.
Since the 17th Century, over 700 hundred species of plants and animals have been documented as extinct, while 11 000 other species
are listed as endangered. From the passenger pigeon to Tasmanian wolf, human intervention has obliviously eaten away at the
biodiversity of our planet. As humans formed their agrarian society, there came a great surge in population, knocking out natural
factors that would normally have kept the population in check like food scarcity during the harsh winter months. Ever since then,
humans were exempt from the steady line of natural fluctuations that applies to most other species on the planet...instead, the human
population grew exponentially, increasing without limitations which of course led to competition for space with the ecosystems and
creatures already in place. These circumstances have led to the destruction of habitats, replaced by housing, farmland, and
industrial structures beneficial only to human civlization. Without the proper conditions, many species could not survive, being vulnerable
to predators or robbed of shelter and food resources. Adding to this were both the intentional or unintentional introductions of
alien species. When brought into a foreign ecosystem, many species thrived since the natural limitations that would keep the population
in check normally were not present. For a great deal of this I suppose that ignorance can be brought into account but it still
isn't much of an excuse when in general, little effort has been made to right these circumstances.
When was the last time anyone prodded you to save the rainforest? I suppose it was something phased out and replaced with the urgent
cries spelling out the horrors of GMOs and climate change, yet again adding to the dung heap of global misery, maggots and all.
However, just because new issues have sprung up doesn't mean we can ignore the estimated 1.4 million square kilometers of rainforest that
floated up to tropical tree heaven via combustion during the 80's. Again going back to agriculture, farmers living in poverty
mainly in South America cleared away the seemingly bountiful and equally unprofitable rainforest in exchange for a few more acres to
to keep hunger at bay or to raise cattle. As usual, poverty and greedy corporations are the true culprits behind all of this.
It's unfortunate to say that all the mahogany bedroom sets in the world simply cannot be traded in for a healthy population of
ocelots.
Being the bastards that we are, we just couldn't leave it at clearcutting, damming, and air pollution...I mean, after all, land only
makes up a third of the earth's surface. And so the oceans couldn't escape man's reign of terror either, be it the 2 billion gallons or
so of fuel and crude oil smothering the sea life with a deadly sheen or the overfishing plaguing both coasts of North America or
the hunting of whales for various resources and sport or the harmful rotation of leisure boat propellers leaving manatees scarred
or crippled. Where does the excess, apathy, and bloodlust stop?
As a race, we have only succeeded to struggle amongst each other over petty and short-sighted visions while neglecting the needs
of our living, precious planet. Those who have shown and demanded respect for the world that provides for us have been drowned
out by the heft of corporations backed by their extravagant profits. Despite the complex society we have built over wide grasslands
and ancient forests with our paper profits, principal aspects of a truly cooperative and successful society have been ignored which
could be viewed by an alien race as simply primitively savage.
False Idols - 3/7/2003
Maybe obsessive healthy living is contagious...as of late I seem to be taking after both mother and grandmother by not cringing
at the mere mentioning of exercise, ignoring the desperate cries of the box of chocolate in the living room just yearning to be
devoured, and religiously scanning product labels for dreaded words such as HYDROGENATED or CHOLESTEROL. Whatever the case may be,
I'm sure the rest of us who have joined the ranks of
skim milk only, please rejoiced jubilantly yesterday with Kraft's
announcement detailing the revamping of many of their product lines including that fatal Oreo cookie of theirs. With this
change of heart Kraft is also removing the marketing of their products from
Channel One News TV which is viewed by
millions of American children at school daily.
Now this is obviously a ploy to avoid a snare of nasty lawsuits coming from upset consumers over the increasingly large rolls of fat
sitting along their thighs or perhaps last month's heart bypass surgery or concern over their young children's expanding waist
lines. Just like McDonalds and their grotesque line up of artery clogging meals, spending the money to reformulate products was
chosen over the tangle of the courtroom.
Quite frankly though, people in today's society, or perhaps the human race in general, have a tendency to point their sticky
fingers and load the blame on someone else for their own problems. If the economy is failing, blame the immigrants; if the world
is on the brink of collapse, blame the heathens and sinners; if AIDS is on the rise, blame the gay population; and now...if you're
kids are obese, blame fast food and cookies. Yes, there is no doubt that frequent trips to McDonalds will correlate with a ballooning
body but no one put a knife to your throat and forced you to supersize your fries. It's not like Walkerton where you pretty
much had to drink the water. It's great that these looming lawsuits are getting corporations to clean up their act a little but
they can't shoulder all the blame, as much as we'd like them to. Two words, kiddies...
consumer awareness. Just think of
everything you view in life as a terrible infomercial. It's quite likely that whoever's running the show is just aiming to milk
some of your hard-earned cash from you. So up your radar and flick the skeptism switch to
mother-in-law scrutiny. Be aware
of what exactly you're shoving into your mouth/strapping to your flab/parading around in, the effects of said product, and the conditions
under which it was made. If you just read a few articles in the Health section of the newspaper or maybe listened to a certain
yammering health nut that you know, a quick glance at the nutrition content and ingredients and you'd know whether to toss it in
your shopping cart or trash it.
As for the kids whining in the back seat of the car every time those golden arches fly by, maybe instead of caving into the
demands of those big innocent eyes or a forceful NO, you should try to educate them and nourish the burgeoning critical thinker
somewhere in there. This even applies to the howling fits at Zellers when passing the toy section. At a decent age I think a little
reasoning and anti-conformism will go a long way in saving your dollars and letting those fads sail into the dumpster. This generation
has been bombarded with advertisements, consumerism, and trends their entire lives. Some are able to decipher the folly behind
the happy dancing people or slick jingles and slogans but a tragic group of people have fallen at the feet of their mighty gods Nike,
BMW, and Sony...believing that such products could bring them status and carry their dreams just like the sell-outs who endorse
these things. With such a great number of them entranced in this belief, it's almost true. In the end though, the intricately
woven brocade of the marketing world is startlingly transparent with a certain perspective. Obesity, child labour, and unemployment
certainly outweigh any promise of satisfaction or glory whether it is upholstered in leather or comes in a flimsy plastic
tray.
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken - 2/7/2003
I could go as far as blaming the whole SARS scare/media frenzy or the initial bright idea of having a birthday party there to counter
such fears or even the benevolence of my jazz band coordinator taking us all out for a year-end celebration...but whatever led to my
dad's sudden obsession with eating at the Mandarin has not only wreaked havoc on my poor digestive system but raised another issue
worth dragging up the flag pole today.
For those of us who live in Southern Ontario and are fortunate enough to be able to pay
$20.99 per person for dinner, we've all been through the
Chinese buffet experience the Mandarin offers at its various 14 locations. Upon
my multiple visits there throughout the past two months I've been horrified at the contents offered at the buffet table. No, it's
quite undeniably sumptuous in that drowned in oil fashion but to see waffles topped with strawberry sauce and icing sugar, creamy
mashed potatoes, and garlic bread lining the grilling area just sent me over the edge. Now we all know that the Mandarin doesn't
serve authentic Chinese cuisine for the most part, at least those of us fortunate enough to be well acquainted with Asian friends
who scoff at idea of Chinese buffets or culturally aware companions who run off during their lunch to gobble down plates of
Sashimi and vats of Vietnamese soup. For the misguided still dangling out there, I'm sorry to burst your bubble like that but
chicken balls are about as Chinese as clam chowder (which they serve at the Mandarin along with the usual wonton stuff). All of that
I can deal with, referring to the breaded shrimp, chicken wings, egg rolls, and other such Westernized delights, but according
to my books the origin of the croissant is entirely Austrian...ok so maybe that wasn't so obvious but I won't indulge you kids
with a history lesson today.
The thing that really started the frenzied twitch of my left eye was the many reader's choice awards
the restaurant chain receives, all of which you can see on their site (
mandarinbuffet.com). The majority of them are along the lines of
Best Chinese Restaurant. I'm sorry, but say that again,
closer this time so I can get a good crack at your skull with this nine-iron. The food served at this buffet is not even remotely
Chinese..and who am I to say so? Well I've had the oppportunity to spend a week or so in Hong Kong where it's a bowl of white
rice, steamed buns, and goose intestines (purely optional). The Mandarin may not be so down home and American like Tucker's Market place
with scalloped potatoes but a pile of tasteless fried rice, some replica Chinese roofing decor, and some koi do not make the place
authentically Chinese.
Of course you can say that chicken feet generally don't appeal to the average Canadian consumer (myself included in that particular
case) and that familiar things like Jello are there for those who are uneasy about being adventurous in the world of cuisine and
so like a good franchise the Mandarin is trying to satisfy everyone's needs. However, places like the Mandarin who pass off their
food as something else while ignoring a wonderful culture and leeching off it's name are terribly unacceptable...especially when
a great number of Chinese people themselves suffer in poverty while a few entrepreneurial whizzes reap the swelling cash rewards
of years of dedicated work only to forget their own origins.
Happy Birthday, Baby! - 1/7/2003
I don't know about you, but I'm tired of crazy pseudo-patriotic beer commercials telling me why I should be proud of my country.
The geniuses of marketing truly know no shame...but anyway, as far as I'm concerned, today's a great excuse to go around lighting 136 various
things (preferably candles but bagels are fun too), gulp down a few cases of beer, and risk your limbs to provide the neighbourhood with some
flashy, noisy entertainment...all in the name of beaver tails, Shania Twain, and 50 years of peacekeeping. However, there
are a few things that everyone overlooked when it comes to national pride. To make amends for 33 million selective memories,
I've provided you with a list below.
1) No one can forget the heroics of the Underground Railroad or Harriet Tubman and the like during the 19th Century when oppressed African-Americans
risked their lives to escape slavery in the South, many of them making their way as far as Canada where slavery had already been
abolished. It's difficult to disagree with the cruelty that was wrought upon the African people in the days of colonialism when
they were taken from their homes, stripped of their culture, and forced to labour endlessly on plantations for the wealthy. Even in the
years following the Civil War, African-Americans were treated with little human dignity and segregated from the rest of society.
We Canadians shouldn't be so swift to wash our hands of this, just because of the acts of our Southern neighbours. What about
the Canadian natives? The Iroquois, the Hurons, the Haida, the Blackfoot...this wide stretch of land bordered by the Atlantic,
Pacific, and Arctic Oceans belonged to them long before the arrival of European settlers. I don't mean to dredge up the past
but the reality is that when assimilation failed they were forced out of their homes on to reservations, robbed of their culture as their children were
sent to residential schools, and ignored by society in general...and though conditions are not so draconian as in former days and the
abusive schools no longer exist, regarding the Native peoples, some of these issues are still glaring today. Stand tall and
be proud that most Native reservations are poverty-stricken, leading to double the national suicide rate in many places, high drug
abuse, and alcohol addiction, especially amongst the youth. While the Ontario curriculum does include education about Aboriginal
culture and the devastation brought on by the Europeans, it does a poor job of connecting them with today's issues or even
addressing them.
2) Despite signing on to the Kyoto Protocol in 1997 and finally ratifying it last year and witnessing insanely warm weather
during the winter months followed by an ice storm in early April and then blazing hot days out of the blue after unusually
chilly weather, the majority of Canadians don't seem particularly concerned about climate change. Perhaps with the increasingly
odd weather and the havoc of natural disasters worldwide, we're starting to become more aware of the difference a sudden rise
of a few degrees can make but carbon emissions still show otherwise. For a mere population of just over 30 million people,
an estimated 156.3 million metric tons of carbon is a hell of a lot. Especially compared to our global neighbours. Take France
for instance, with a population of about 56 million people. Even though they have almost double the amount of people, they
release nearly 50 million tons of carbon dioxide less into the atmosphere. Along with them are the Italians sitting at a population
of 57 million and emissions that only add up to about 121.2 million metric tons. And though Japan's emissions are double the Canadian
number, they have a population about five times the size of ours. Express your pride today knowing that each Canadian produces
about 4.9 tons of this greenhouse gas yearly and is only bested by the United States at 5.6 mt/person.
3) Ok, so we're not exactly as environmentally friendly as we'd hoped with gridlock and the urban planning of Canadian cities
creating more greenhouse gas emissions with the need for cars but we're still peace-loving and generous people, right?
Well...not exactly, or at least along the lines of generosity when it comes to foreign aid. So the plan in 2001 was to increase
the humanitarian budget by a billion dollars over the next three years so that in 2003, African poverty would be countered by a
whopping $500 million when the country's GNP, through estimates, hits the $500 billion mark. The United Nations' goal when it comes to foreign aid encourages developed countries to contribute
at least 0.7% of their Gross National Product each year. The only countries that actually meet and exceed this standard are Denmark,
Norway, the Netherlands, and Sweden. The United States has been lagging behind at 0.1% for the past decade or so while in truth
the Canadian ODA (official development assistance) funds have been declining, hitting rock bottom in 1999 with it's lowly contribution
of 0.28% which in terms of cash was $1.3 billion. Though the Canadian passport is a coveted item and travelers continue to sew
maple leaf patches on their packs, it seems as if you have to be Canadian to bask in the golden light of our glorious nation.
Skip merrily down the street tonight, brandishing your red and white flag with no fear of dying from parasites, AIDS, or malnutrition
because you aren't one of the developing countries that Canada fails to save through foreign aid!
So I'm not quite
Jenny Canuck with her canoe paddle, rollerblades, and bright patriotic smile on this wonderful July 1st
but at least I'm not turning a blind eye to some of the issues we face as a nation today. Go ahead and party with that crazy
Canadian spirit today while I hand out sparklers to nine year-olds but remember to brush off that hangover tomorrow and walk to the
mall/take the transit or write to your federal government representative about your concerns regarding Canada as a nation.
Send in the Clowns - 30/6/2003
I doubt that there will be much of a fanfare this time.
They say that the third time's a charm
but
they say a lot of things, so here I am, back again with my bitter resentment set against
the world. And surprise, surprise...nothing much has changed since the last time I was here.
The gay population has won a victory against the more conservative portion of the nation, only
to double underscore the fact that as usual, the government is up to its elbows in affairs that
never should have been under its jurisdiction in the first place. Sure, it's more than practical to be protected
from polygamous, greedy bastards and to fence off that material wealth as unquestionably, without
a doubt, there is a finger on the trigger, YOURS. However, if you want to get sickeningly romantic and idealistic
on me...marriage is a union between people, not
her sleek Mercedes-Benz SL55 AMG and
his three downtown properties or
his quarter of a million or so dictated by the TSE and
his remarkable collection of late 19th
Century antiques. Presumably, people who decide to get married love each other, marriage being the ultimate recognition
of that to put forth to society (and in our case, the government). But why should the government
have a hand in the matters of the heart? I think it's time that we untangle the mess of knots hampering the growth of a modern
definition of marriage, separating the emotional and societal aspects from the tedium of property, assets, and wealth in general.
Love and matrimonial happiness should be able to thrive without the yowlings of tired old men. Though you might be able to say
that this small relinquishing of power is what those conservative old bags are really whining about. Acknowledging gay marriages
is only the first step to the Canadian people's realization that such things did not belong with the government in the first
place and that maybe, just maybe, the world wouldn't just collapse on our feeble lives without the power of our two democratic
houses over on Parliament Hill. What a day that will be...
Though while still on the subject of affections, I suppose I might as well continue on with my steadfast
love affair
with our darling Mr. Bush. Saddam is probably soaking in the rays of the Pacific sun while enjoying a mango margarita while
his former kingdom lies in a heap of rubble, courtesy of the US and British troops. Of chemical, nuclear, or biological weapons,
there is not a wisp. Bush's smoking gun is just as fictitious as his intelligence, presidency, and love of the American people.
While he spins hope of peace in the Middle East, red ink drips ominously like fresh blood and tax cuts mysteriously drain more
from the Treasury, only to the benefit of the corporations that launched Bush into his cushy seat in the Oval Office; leaving
the rest of America scraping by at minimum wage.
And then there's SARS. Daily reports in the Toronto Star were devoutly read every morning...the wind and click of the rising
death toll, the carelessness of medical officials, the incompetence of the government, the staggering blow dealt to the Toronto
tourism industry, the Stones taking the place of the Pope this summer at Downsview Park for an insane nine hour concert to inspire the
masses in support of the T.O. Well what about the actual source of SARS? Corona virus, blah, blah, blah...that's not what I'm talking about.
I'm not jabbing my finger at something half a micron in size, I'm pointing at the powers that be who have let conditions deteriorate
in rural China to the point where such viruses are bound to spring up. Inadverdently, I'm also pointing at the agricultural industry
that had obviously forgotten the phrase
you are what you eat when it decided to force livestock to cannibalize or inject them
with steroids for bigger beef. Mickey Mouse the sorcerer's apprentice or the magic wand of bioengineering, I don't care. Advancing sciences
aren't going to make everything disappear when someone snaps their fingers. Ignoring problematic parts of the world and dire social
issues isn't going to cut it either. Everything we do has consequences
and if you decide turn your Avril Lavigne up a notch every time this happens until it's blaring at full blast...well, one day it'll all come
crashing down. I love having the last laugh, but when
apocalyptic crises are plaguing the human race and everyone is suddenly
pouring their money into the church collection plate or a space shuttle, I don't really want to have to say
I told you so.
Isn't it great to be back? Maybe I should start my own Doomsday cult or something. I've done enough damn research for it.
