That Night in Toronto - August 12, 2016

This was originally posted on my Facebook on August 13, 2016.

Have you ever had that feeling of being part of something infinitely bigger than yourself?

I felt that last night.

We’re an odd country, in that we have such a relatively small population, spread out over such a large area. It can lead to a sort of disconnect with our fellow citizens.

Last night’s Tragically Hip concert left me with a lot of feelings. This is a last hurrah (for me) for a band that I have loved from my early teens. I became aware of them around the time that I discovered MuchMusic, and spent hours taping recording videos to VHS, painstakingly pausing and unpausing to edit out the commentary and commercials.

“At The Hundreth Meridian” was the weird, wonderful video that first caught my eye. When I started looking into this band more, I realized I already knew them, without actually knowing them (if that makes sense). I found myself singing along, knowing words to songs that I wasn’t aware I had even heard before.

But yeah. The show. It was both awe-inspiring and exceedingly difficult to watch. The giant screens that magnify the band for the audience members relegated to the nosebleed sections show a lot of detail, including a man who was putting in a lot of effort, but was straining. I wish I could say there was the same frenetic energy of say, 10 years ago, but goddamn, he sure tried, and for most of the show, it was close. But to watch as someone who has known illness, it was exhausting.

I’m eternally grateful to the band for this tour. People can be exceptionally possessive and entitled when it comes to the artists they adore. So I want to make sure I am clear about this. They didn’t have to do a final tour. But I am so, so glad they did. I am so thankful that everyone that has loved this band got a chance to say goodbye. I’m glad the band got a chance to say goodbye as well.

But my goodness.. How difficult must this be? How difficult must it be for a man who probably knows he is dying, to go on every other night and put on the best show he can, to make that effort to live up to the reputation as a showman he’s been cultivating for the last 30 years, while knowing that it’s taking that much more energy, that much more strain, that some of the notes are that much harder to hit.

How heartbreaking is this for Robby, Gord S, Paul, and Johnny, who have been together since high school, without a single change in lineup, to know that this will for all intents and purposes, be the last tour they all do as a group. How hard must it be for them to be on stage knowing that this is for all intents and purposes it and nothing will be the same, all the while knowing and watching while they lose a childhood friend.

I was amazed that they played a 2 hour show, with two encores.

I was inspired by the way, near the end of the show, Gord stood on stage and to thunderous applause that lasted five minutes or more, looked out over the audience and just also seemed both sad, awed, grateful, and generally moved to tears. That’s when I started to cry, thinking that this must be the scene that they’ve been greeted by every other night for the last week and a bit. And it’s bloody brilliant.

The last few weeks, since the band announced Gord’s cancer diagnosis, have had surreal media coverage. It’s been a weird kind of retrospective but also like a living obituary. This tour must have been kind of like attending your own wake. Which is morbid, but also really amazing. I’m glad that the band and Gord especially, gets to see just what they have meant to so many people.

I am glad I got to be there last night. I’m glad I got to share it with some of the most important people in my life, along with thousands of strangers who, for a few hours, were my fellow mourners but also my friends.

A part of my childhood just died.

I'm usually not one to get all emotional about death when it comes to celebrities and other public figures, so I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I pretty much burst into tears not too long ago when I found out that one of my childhood heroes, Stompin' Tom Connors had passed away at the age of 77.

As a child, I would go to my grandparents house in Bancroft where they had a big old 8-track stereo. If my paternal grandparents were Big Band, my maternal grandparents were Grand Ol' Opry. One weekend when I was about 7 years old, my mom dug out one of the 8-tracks and played a song called "Goodbye Rubberhead." The rhyming scheme and gratuitous use of the word "boob" appealed to me. I giggled at The Ketchup song, about a potato and tomato that get married, and at the long-sufferingness of "My Brother Paul".

My mom and dad found a 60 minute tape and made me a copy of that 8-track album, Bud the Spud and other Favorites, filling air on the B-side with East Coast fiddle music. For the next year or so, when we visited our trailer during the summers my mom would cue up that cassette tape before I went to bed each night and I would fall asleep to the music of Stompin' Tom. I held onto that tape until I was in my early 20's, when it was lost during one of many moves.

He came to Midland a few years ago to play the rec center, but at the time the ticket prices were out of my reach, or perhaps I had I unbreakable obligations to attend to, but for whatever reason, I missed this show and I swore I would see the man perform live while there was still time.

That time has run out and I don't mind saying I'm a little heartbroken.

R.I.P Mr. Connors

Exploiting Victims in the Name of Activism

So, as we already know, Chris Brown is a giant, girlfriend-beating douchecanoe.  Chris Brown the rapper, not Chris Brown that guy that used to work with my sister.  That guy was pretty cool and to the best of my knowledge, never beat anyone with an umbrella.

No, I definitely mean this guy. - Jeff R. Bottari/Getty Images

So, some folks in Sweden decided to protest one of Brown's concerts and in said protest, decided to put up a huge billboard and posters featuring the visage of then-and-possibly-now girlfriend, Rhianna, shortly post-assault.  You know the one, where he beat the shit out of her.

I am not okay with this.

Don't get me wrong.  My issue with these billboards has nothing to do with any desire to see Brown NOT punished to the further extent of the law by the court of public opinion.  I would love nothing more than for him to be forever known not as Chris Brown, Musician but Chris Brown, Giant Girlfriend-Beating douchecanoe.

Seriously, fuck that guy.

I love the fact that people are putting stickers on his CD's reminding people that this guy beat the shit out of a woman and maybe we shouldn't give him our money.  I'd love to see people do similar to Guns N Roses CDs, or Roman Polanski films or DVD boxed sets of Three and a Half Men.  (Axl Rose was accused of beating two exes, Roman Polanski drugged and raped an underaged girl and Charlie Sheen is.. well, Charlie Sheen).   Sing it from the rooftops.  "THIS GUY BEATS WOMEN."  Blow-horn that shit, seriously.

Can we do that without exploiting the victim?  That is my main issue with this postering effort. Given the fact that it appears that Brown and Rihanna are kind of off-again, on-again, I'd be willing to bet that she has not given any permission for her image to be used in such a way.  This is not a publicity photo from a magazine spread.  It's a picture taken in the wake of a horrific assault, when Rhianna, as a subject, was in a vulnerable position.  It's a haunting reminder of what he did to her, but is not for us, as the public, to consume.

As I said, I do not think Chris Brown deserves anything less than to have his name forever associated with being that guy who beat his girlfriend with, ironically enough, an umbrella and then was known to throw hissy fits when the media refused to just 'get over it'.  But in such cases, the victim's right to privacy should be respected, without being exploited as a poster child for a cause.  It reminds me of The World According to Garp and the Ellen Jamesians, who alienated Ellen James by making her a martyr and, through their movement, refusing to let her move past her own assault.

The use of Rhianna's battered face as a reminder of Brown's wrong-doing feels exploitative to me.  I feel like the people who created these posters were more interested in vilifying an abuser (which, on it's own is not a bad thing) than protecting the victim from further harm.

Daniel Tosh is not being censored.

A day late, a buck short, I know.  This is all old news by now.  Whatevs, brah.

But I couldn't let this one pass.

Daniel Tosh, the so-called 'comedian' that I fully admit I hadn't really known of or paid any attention until this week, got called out at one of his shows for saying rape jokes are funny.

For the record, they're not.

He responded by making what have has been interpreted by some as a not-so-veiled threat and by others as a joke.  I'm kind of in the threat camp on this one.

After I called out to him, Tosh paused for a moment. Then, he says, “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by like, 5 guys right now? Like right now? What if a bunch of guys just raped her…”

I've laughed at some pretty wrong and fucked up stuff in my time, and this didn't even make me giggle a bit. Not even in that "omigod-i-so-shouldn't-be-laughing-at-this-I'm-a-bad-person-and-obviously-going-to-hell" way.

So as it happens, this girls post has gone viral and a bunch of people have called Tosh an asshole, and a bunch of people have come to his defence, claiming free speech etc etc.

People, I cannot stress this enough.

Criticism is not Censorship.
Saying "Don't be an asshole," is not Censorship.

Saying "This thing you said, it's shitty and hurts people" is not Censorship.

Criticism is not Censorship.

Saying "I'm not coming to your performances or watching your show any more, you rape-apologizing, unfunny assbag." is not censorship.

Telling sponsors and advertisers "Hey, I'm going to stop using your services or buying your products if you keep giving money to this rape-apologizing, unfunny assbag," is not censorship.

Bringing attention to the actions of an unfunny, rape-apologizing assbags through various medium and suggesting that "Hey, maybe supporting unfunny rape-apologizing assbags is bullshit really fucking hurtful and erases victims and perpetuates a culture where rape is normalized and acceptable and seen as a joke," is not censorship.

Criticism is not Censorship.


To the best of my knowledge, no one is advocating jailing, deporting or otherwise sanctioning Daniel Tosh.  Governing bodies have not stepped in and taken away his show.  If I'm wrong, then yes, that is censorship.

But the same people who are saying that we are taking away Daniel Tosh's right to be an asshole free speech are silencing the victims, or potential victims who are trying to say "Hey, that shit is not funny."

Two random vocalists that make me want to kill myself with joy

Source

Cat Power - Her voice is evocative of that kind of straight-whisky drinking, chain-smoking in a dark dive bar, of the type that was probably at one point classy as all hell, but has since become a refuge for derelicts and the lost. She sounds like what that woman who sang Bette Davis Eyes should have sounded like, instead of sounding like Joan Rivers doing karaoke. Love and Communication haunts me and it pisses me off to no end that I cannot, for the life of me, sound one-tenth as good as she does singing this song.

Source

Dallas Green - Consistently reminds me of guys in high school that I wanted to have write sappy yet earnest ballads and sing them for me in hushes tones.  The type of guy that would sit back and not say much until someone pulled out a guitar when he'd reluctantly join along, quietly at first, then gradually getting more into it until everyone else suddenly just shuts the fuck up and sits there blinking, thinking 'Holy shit.  This kid can actually sing!'  On Sleeping Sickness he pairs up with my all-time favorite vocalist, Gord Downie and my head explodes from all the awesome.

*****************************
I have a post up at Different Paths, Same Destination regarding the Children's Health Care of Atlanta's fat-shaming campaign. I'm told it's good.  Go check it out.

You know Canada Has No Interest in its Celebrity Culture when...

.. one of our cultural icons DIES and it takes five freakin' years for anyone to even notice.

Or, more accurately, we're too interested in U.S. celebrity culture to notice when one of our own dies.

In the past I have expressed my annoyance with the disproportionate amount of grief that people express in the wake of celebrity deaths, as once again was demonstrated over the last week after news of Whitney Houston's death broke.  So in light of that, I feel more than a little hypocritical to say that I felt PROFOUNDLY FUCKING SAD when I found out that Neil Hope, who had played Derek "Wheels" Wheeler on Degrassi Junior High and Degrassi High had not only died, but died FIVE YEARS AGO without anyone really noticing or giving a shit.

You said it, Ed the Sock.

I do have to add that I find it funny that I found all this out from a sentient, chain-smoking sock.  So that says something... about.. something.  I guess.  Score one for patent absurdity.

Anyway, maybe it's the affinity I have for those original Degrassi series' after they got me through weeks of being hospitalized in my late teens (along with Guiding Light, as well as reruns of Law and Order and Northern Exposure) or perhaps it's that it sounds like Hope in spite of his name had a pretty shitty upbringing not unlike his on screen counterpart but this made me sad in a way that usually doesn't happen with me.

Source

Maybe it's because after Degrassi ended, Neil Hope seemed to kind of fade into obscurity, popping up once for a brief cameo on the pilot for Degrassi: The Next Generation.  It's entirely possible  that the family purposely hid his death from the media, and if that is the case more power to them.  That would at least be a less wholly depressing thought than the idea that this guy died in a fire and it took five years for anyone to really notice or give a shit.

According to the story in the Globe and Mail, creator Linda Schuyler and executive producer Stephen Stohn had kept quiet out of respect to Hope's family.  Odd that the Globe cites natural causes, whereas the National Post says he died in a fire.

Apparently, the news was finally made public due to a Facebook group dedicated to bring 'the real' Neil Hope to Facebook.  I guess the family confirmed so as to not waste everyone's time.

In the spirit of blaming all that is wrong with the world on Mark Zuckerberg I say "Good job, Zuck.  Way to make things AWKWARD."

Here's a clip from the movie/series finale School's Out, where Wheels gets drunk and kills a kid and maims Lucy in a car wreck.  Trigger warning.



UPDATE: So most of the other news outlets are reporting that Hope died of natural causes (Wow.. out of context, that phrase is like.. really depressing). Our lesson here is that the National Post kind of sucks.

Tidbits

So many things to write about, so little time.

Today is Gord Downie's birthday.

I've been sickish this weekend, but well taken care of. Feeling special and appreciative.

I took the opportunity to watch 6.5 out of the 8 Harry Potter movies.

My guitar tuner is missing. As such I'm coming to the conclusion that I have a shitty ear for these things. I hope it turns up soon.

Yesterday was duff mckagan's birthday. I kind of miss when he was all baby-faced, in the pre-velvet revolver days.

My little one made me breakfast saturday. Cheerios and peanut butter toast and an apology for not knowing how to use the coffee maker.

Today is Queen Elizabeth's diamond jubilee. 60 years in the same position with no room for advancement. Still has a good shot at breaking queen Vicky's record though.

Son, Margaret Cho will F*** You Up But Good.

So, I can't say I've ever been a huge fan of Margaret Cho. No particular reason, her humor just never grabbed me. Shit happens. But Margaret Cho won about 867,482 cool points with me after I read her blog post Being Mad on Twitter, written after some negative backlash to some pictures she posted on Twitter of the new ink she had recieved.

First of all, I admire anyone with the guts to proudly post their ass on twitter. Second, I highly recommend checking out her post, as it is a very raw and powerful read.

Someone on the Jezebel article pointed out that out of all the positive feedback on her tats that she chose to focus on the two negative comments, and oh isn't that sad. Yeah, it is, but it's not uncommon. It is so easy to write off positive comments as 'just being polite' or 'sucking up' or 'you have to say that' but the negative chews at us and makes us doubt ourselves and feel less than. It becomes magnified in our psyche.

That is why such blatant negativity is so very toxic. Sometimes there is a time and a place for constructive criticism but sometimes there is no time and no place that doesn't make you an asshole for not keeping your damn comments to yourself.

Having once been a young girl who saw herself as fat and awkward and gawky, and being a woman who still struggles not to still see herself that way, I have to agree with Cho when she says "...no young girl should be told she is ugly. If she is, you kill her spirit..." I cannot fathom any scenario where telling some they are ugly or fat (and don't give me concern-trolling about health worries) accomplishes anything beyond kicking a chair out from someone and taking power in their suffering. There is nothing constructive to be had in binding someone, often an impressionable young girl who lives in a society that tells her hat her only worth is in her beauty, to your own personal definition of worth and stomping on them and telling them they are unworthy. It's a bullshit move.

Palpable in Cho's post is her righteous anger, and I fucking laud her for it. Even though fans may criticize her for going off on the naysayers, I say screw that. There is always such talk of forgiveness, and women especially are expected to be forgiving when others trample on our sense of worth. Even though I'm usually one to brush shit off, there is something to be said for anger, for anger can keep us from being complacent. Learning to love yourself is a tough road, even if you've been more or less supported your whole life. I had a loving family but still felt that the rest of the world was telling me I wasn't good enough.

I love the way Margaret describes her Learning to love herself as a kind of ongoing battle, defending her 'borders' and fuck anyone who doesn't appreciate or respect what she has worked for. She defends her sense of worth like a mama bear defending her cubs, and will rain down a storm of shit and hellfire on those whose aim is to degrade and belittle. And if people judge her harshly for not taking the high road, well so be it. She does not apologize for being angry at the hurt others have dealt. Nor should she.

Friday Music Lurve: The Mountain Goats

So the comp is pretty much pooched at this point. My boxing day miracle was short-lived as a software update required me to restart and it just never came back. So after 6ish years I am faced with the prospect of computer shopping. Those who know me well know that big-ticket purchases generally make me itch and/or hyperventilate. I can put it off for a bit because my company was nice enough to gift us iPads for Christmas this year. A friend of mine came over to finally set up the router I was given, after I spent a few weeks struggling to figure out the bloody thing myself. So I'm all wifi'd and working from the iPad. I feel like I should name it. Maybe Jerry.

So onward and upward. I've been listening obsessively to The Mountain Goats for the last week or two, as those on my Facebook and my cubicle neighbors at work already know. I became aware of them a year or two ago after hearing 'Cubs In Five'. I thought it a quirky lo-fi tune and a great little passive-aggressive fuck you.

And the Chicago cubs will beat every team in the league
And the Tampa bay bucks will take it all the way to the top
And I will love you again
I will love you like I used to

Now, I'm no expert on baseball, but I'm pretty sure this is the equivalent of saying "yeah and monkeys might fly out of my butt."

(I really wanted to include a picture of Mike Myers as Wayne Campbell here but I haven't figured out how to scam pictures with this thing. Use your imagination. )

I started listening to them more this year as I discovered tracks off of The Sunset Tree and Talahassee. The last couple of days I've been setting up playlists of five or six albums and just listening for hours at work. I love the themes of encompassing passion and self-destructive love that seems to pop up. I don't know who writes the bulk of the lyrics but there's a feeling of not-quite-impotent rage that pops up again and again... The feeling of someone about to burst out of their shell and go absolutely apeshit on the place.

As someone who fancies herself both a bit of a musician and a bit of a writer, I've always been drawn to powerful lyrics. Here's a few samples of lines that have been running through my head.

From 'Up the Wolves'

I'm going to get myself in fighting trim
Scope out every angle of unfair advantage
I'm gonna bribe the officials
I'm gonna kill all the judges
It's going to take you people years to recover from all of the damage

From 'No Children'

I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I hope if I find the strength to walk out
You'll stay the hell out of my way

From 'This Year'

Then Kathy showed up and we hung out
Trading swigs from the bottle all bitter and clean
Locking eyes, holding hands
Twin high-maintenance machines

Again, still getting used to this iPad. I wanted to link to all these songs, but i'm sure all my readers are savvy enough to know how to go to YouTube and look them up.

I highly recommend you do.

I almost forgot. This is super-cute.

Mountain Goats sing The Mountain Goats

Christopher Titus, I am disappoint.

Some of you may remember a short-lived but hilarious (if you share my own sick sense of humour) sit-com a few years back by the name of Titus, based on the real life upbringing of comedian Christopher Titus.

So I'm a fan of his page on Facebook and I came across this post.  When I first read it, I honestly thought it was satire but as I read on I realized that it was written in seriousness.  I think.  I'm not sure, actually, the whole thing is kind of muddled and incoherent.  I don't even know where to start with the whole 'Negro Greetings' thing... I'm pretty sure I'd find it offensive if I could figure out what the fuck his point is on that one.

Anyway, I'll let you read the post for yourself.

Transcription:

This is a repost.
I'm getting tired of atheists bitching about Christmas, first of all you're an atheist, why do you care who believes what? How can someone who believes nothing believe in nothing so much that you want everyone else to believe in nothing or make fun of the non non-believers. Sounds like a cult. I believe that Jesus Christ walked the earth and he was a good man, like I believe that Ghandi walked the earth and Martin Luther King also. That's why it's called Martin Luther king day not "Negro greetings". Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ which is why it's called Christmas and a manger scene has people dressed in robes of the time and lambs and whatever.Theres no aliens. (I'm looking at you Scientology.) Guess what there is a ton of mythology about Ghandi and MLK too so step the hell off atheists and keep your believing in nothing to yourselves. I'm tired of you forcing your non beliefs on me. I love how people bitch about their civil rights until they start infringing on others. You think I'm pissed? Listen to blah blah blah shameless self-promotions etc etc etc...

Really what?

I read some of the comments but then stopped after I found that the stupid was beginning to burn, so I went on to post this response:

I've never heard an atheist bitch about Christmas. I've never heard a Muslim bitch about Christmas. I've never heard a jew bitch about Christmas. I've never heard a Hindu bitch about Christmas. I've never heard a Pagan bitch about Christmas. I've heard a lot of Christians bitch about a war on Christmas, which could be true if you consider war to mean 'the suggestion that one might acknowledge that there are other holidays in the month of December.' But myself, I've always thought 'war' involved a lot of guns and death and stuff. That I've yet to see, outside of Weird Al Yankovic's "The Night Santa Went Crazy."

Those who have been reading this blog for a while know that I have very little patience for the "War on Christmas" crowd and that personally I find the idea that by simply acknowledging the varying beliefs of people living in North America we're contributing to the downfall of Western Civilization to be at worst, a xenophobic and dangerously bigoted idea and at best, just fucking ridiculous.  Saying Happy Holidays to someone instead of Merry Christmas isn't a big slap in the face to Jesus Christ.. in fact, from what I know of him, he would have encouraged it.  It's my understanding that J.C. was very into all that "Goodwill toward man" and "Loving thy Neighbour" stuff.

Take a look around you... the only people waging a war on Christmas and it's true meaning are the advertisers, the corporations and the grinding gears in the machine of greed.  If anyone forgets the 'true' meaning of Christmas, it won't be because a few people say Happy Holidays.

As for the original rant, I think Titus needs to do some research on Atheism and what it entails.  It's not a belief in nothing.  It's a movement toward rational thought and critical thinking instead of blind faith.  A lot of Atheists still celebrate Christmas, but may center it around celebrating family.  Hell, I consider myself an Atheist but I still think that it's possible that Jesus Christ existed, and I celebrate Christmas because I have respect for the ideas that Jesus espoused (that stuff that I mentioned above.  Love, and such).  No, I don't believe in the Resurrection.  I don't believe he was the Son of God.  But I respect his ideas.

I wish more people would.

Sometimes the way into a girls heart is through her record collection.

Before I get into the topic at hand, I want to mention that this morning I opened my email to the following:

Vindication at last.

Some of you may remember last December I waged a brief campaign to have Joel Plaskett follow me on Twitter after being unceremoniously Twitted and dumped.  It was a spectacular failure of epic proportions, although I do thank all two of you who helped me try to get #comebackjoelplaskett trending.

Delayed gratification is still gratification in my books.

Anyway...

I came across the following article on Jezebel the other day and if I had been drinking any liquids at the time, I guarantee they would have been snarfed all over my computer screen.

Shockingly, Liking Nickelback Will Not Get You Laid

Chalk that down as my FAVORITE HEADLINE EVER.  I know, making fun of Nickelback is pretty cliche by now, but frankly I find it well-deserved for continually making a mockery of our home-grown music industry.

Oh, full Disclosure:  I have owned one album, and seen them in concert.  And it was okay for a while.  Then there was Photograph.  After that... well, I don't want to talk about it.  Let's just say, when the only local rock station  has a playlist of roughly 15 songs, and 8 of them are by Nickelback, and each song is starting to sound more like the one before it except that the lyrics get more douchey and mysogynistic than the one before, well it's enough to make you yearn for the day when they were just mildly annoyingly introspective.

But I'm not here to rag on them.  At least that's not my primary reason for being here.  I got to thinking about how music had affected my relationships.  As someone to whom music is a large part of life, the article made sense.  I could see myself judging someone if they told me Nickelback was, like, their favorite band EVER.

I don't think I have ever actually rejected a guy over music.. although I have judged guys I've dated over their enjoyment of the movie Hard Core Logo.  And their have been guys whose musical tastes have made me like them more.

I'm not sure if I could ever love someone who didn't at least have a passing enjoyment of the Tragically Hip, who couldn't appreciate them on even the smallest level.

I will however, judge you if you like Papa Roach.  True story, this band makes me violently angry.  The ex-hub used to play them and it got to the point where I begged him to NEVER EVER play them while I was within earshot, after one day I ended up in the back bedroom with a pillow over my head while I cried.  I'm still to this day not sure what it is about them that triggers me, but holy shit.  Remember the scene in BioDome where the National Guard came and tried to get Pauly Shore and Stephen Baldwin to come out of the dome by blaring The Safety Dance?  I'd probably react the same way, and just dance my ass off and enjoy the party (because, you know.. if your friends don't dance they're no friends of mine).

Tell me this shit wouldn't set you off as well.

But if I was in a hostage situation and the National Guard (or the RCMP, I guess) came and starting playing Papa Roach, I'd likely surrender, throw myself on their mercy and possibly beg them to shoot me.

I don't like them.

The ex-hub and I had similar tastes but they diverged after a while.  Once, as I was getting into a very mellow folkish phase, he was getting into Korn and the like, this being the late 90's and very early Oughts.  Sometimes when you hear a song you like enough times you will eventually start to hate it.  We all know this.  Thing is, it works the other way as well.  Despite absolutely loathing them (but without the same violent reaction as to Papa Roach) I had eventually heard them enough that I started to hum along to a few tunes.  One day the ex came home and went to put a CD on, and eyed me rather suspiciously as he pulled "Follow the Leader" out of the stereo.  His eyes had widened and he pointed an accusing finger at me and cried "YOU WERE LISTENING TO KORN!!"

I was caught.  I had no recourse but to shrug and grin sheepishly.

Nu-Metal.  Kind of like New Coke.  Look how well that turned out.

In the midst of our split (years later... we didn't split because I started liking Korn), during one of the many "What the hell happened to us?" conversations, he tried claiming that I had 'changed' and that he couldn't even handle the kind of music I listened to anymore.  This from a guy who had started playing in a fucking country band.

*sigh*  Such is life, amirite?

I find nowadays an eclectic taste in music intrigues me.  I dated a guy briefly whose musical tastes played like a game of "One of these things is not like the other."  His favorite artists had included Nirvana, Pearl Jam, The Doors, The Rolling Stones and...

Lady Gaga?

"Rly?"  "Ya Rly."

I kid you not.  He even had Pokerface as his ringtone.  For the longest time I associated that song with him.

One of the things that really got me with the most recent ex was upon going to his house for dinner the first time, he went to put on some music and asked if I preferred "Radiohead, Neil Young or Sinatra?"  Now, I'm not a devoted fan of any of these performers, but the sheer juxtaposition of these three seemingly unrelated acts resulted in my heart going aflutter.

Neil Young=Sexytimes.

Although I'm fond of guys with an enthusiasm for music, I'm not sure I would date a serious musician.  Having spent time as a band-wife I can tell you it sucks, especially if you're someone who would rather be on the other side of the footlights.  It ends up being like a really unfunny episode of I Love Lucy.

My jealousy was never had this kind of awesome result.

I could still handle being sang to.  Call me hokey, but especially so if it was this:



I still think this is one of the sweetest songs ever.  Sounding like Brad Roberts isn't even necessary.

Photo Sources:
www.100XR.com
www.graphicshunt.com
unrealityshout.com
yvettecandraw.blogspot.com

Oh, and by the way.  I went and signed up for NaNoWriMo because I'm a masochist like that.  If anyone else is participating, please feel free to be my 'buddy'.

Disinformation, Douchebags, Disney and Why You Shouldn't Fuck with Saskatchewan.

The new Facebook newsfeed has some downsides (gee, really?), one of which is that from time to time I'll get something on my newsfeed that a friend has commented on.  I want to weigh in, but since the original poster is not a friend of mine, I can't.  Once again, in the wake of the new changes, we're getting the ridiculously asinine reposts about how Facebook is going to start charging and blah blah, repost and you won't get charged.

And people repost this shit.  It's enough to make my head explode.  But here is what I have a real issue with:

Newsflash, commenter number 1:  Spreading misinformation does not make you smart, it makes you an asshole.  Check your sources before reposting this inane shit, thankyouverymuch.  The friend of mine that commented on this, thus exposing me to this other person's dumbassery via my newsfeed, had a very reasonable suggestion - check snopes.com if you are unsure. At LEAST take the time to do a quick Google search.

Again, it is NOT smart to repost shit 'just in case' if you don't have your facts straight.  In a case like this the worst that will happen is that you'll piss off some people, and maybe lose a few e-friends in a fit of annoyance, but the possibility may arise that someone will re-post something that is hurtful, oppressive or downright untrue and may be harmful to others.  Adam P. Knave posted a great article about the dangers of spreading misinformation through social media last week and puts it more eloquently than I have here.   Recommended reading, indeed.

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Source

As a sociologist with a great interest in popular culture, it's usually a lot of fun to Disney bash, what with the various Disney princesses and their tropes and unrealistic messages of storybook romance.  However, in watching an older DVD with my kids tonight, I was reminded that they're not all bad.  Disney, after all, also gave us Kim Possible which to date is one of my favorite female fictional character geared towards kids.  She's loyal, smart, ass-kicking and genuinely wants to help people.  And although Ron plays the mostly bumbling sidekick, he has his occasional moments of glory, and is secretly a highly-trained ninja, and is often the more zen of the two (except in the face of monkeys).  I love that they end up together without a lot of the typical nice-guy-pines-for-hot-girl-and-continuously-cajoles-her-into-seeing-what-a-great-catch-he-is-because-he's-so-nice storyline.  No, Ron values Kim's friendship and happiness overall (and vice-versa) and that desire to see her happy is his motivation. 

He's like the Ducky (from Pretty In Pink) of the coming generation, without getting fucked over for boring-as-drying-paint Andrew McCarthy.

Did I mention that the main villainess is pretty effin' cool as well?  Of the many cartoon villains I've seen in my time, Shego remains one of my favorite, with the best villainous one-liners - ("Pleased to beat you!").  She's kind of an interesting commentary on the glass ceiling and being taken less seriously in her field as a woman in spite of the fact that between her and Dr. Drakken she's clearly the brains AND the brawn of the operation, but is woefully under-acknowledged and mocked for being a mere sidekick.  I love when she gets to rule a particularly dystopian future in A Sitch In Time.

I will add that everytime I image search Kim Possible, some of the fan art never fails to destroy my soul, piece by piece.

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Based on this post, it has become clear to me that we have a need for a new genre of music which I have decided shall be called 'DoucheRock'.  Theory of a Dead Man is the latest to delve into the land of mysogynist arena rock, which frankly, hasn't been remotely cool since Axl started braiding his hair.  I'm not surprised when you consider how heavily they take their influence from Nickelback.  I'm glad I stopped listening to Rock Radio (ie Rock95, I'm looking at you) so I don't have to hear this kind of crap. And I thought Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch" made my teeth itch.   *shudders*

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Lastly, I got a good giggle at this video posted at the Fuck Yeah CBC Tumblr.  My future husband, George Strombolopolous finds out the hard way that a) you don't fuck with Saskatchewan b) You definitely don't want to make 'flat' jokes and c) Word travels fast (and haphazardly) in the Canadian entertainment industry.  This clip was the intro for the 2007 Gemini awards.  It's got a lot of awesome cameos from Brent Butt and Eric Peterson of Corner Gas, the cast of Little Mosque on the Prairie, Sue Johansonn (aka Sunday Night Sex with Sue), Colin Mochrie, Rick Mercer and more.

Got about 20 minutes before the work whistle blows..

So let's talk about censorship.  Well, an part of censorship that is often not talked about:  Radio edits of popular songs.

Ever listen to a song on the radio, find it really catchy, then get the album and go "Whoa, wasn't expecting THAT!"  Maybe it was hearing Thom Yorke sing "You're so fucking special" for the first time in Radiohead's  Creep.  When I first bought Hawksley Workman's Lover/Fighter (well, actually my friend bought it and burned it for me, and burned herself a copy of Between the Beautifuls that I had bought after his show at the Danforth Music Hall back in 2007, but I digress) and popped in my car stereo, I *may* have nearly driven off the road when the first line of We Will Still Need a Song chimed in with a resounding "Fuck you, you're drunk and acting tough...".  Up until then, I had heard only the radio-friendly lyrics "Baby, you're drunk etc etc"

On occasion I find the radio edit preferable to the uncensored version.  For years, I loved the innocent first-gushing-mooshy-puppy love feel of Liz Phair's Why Can't I with lines like:

Here we are, we're at the beginning
We haven't kissed yet but my head is swimming


When I heard the unedited version that replaced 'kissed' with 'fucked' I just felt kind of... bleh.  Like some of the uncynical, unjaded innocence I had always read into the song was lost.  Of course, I wasn't totally aware at the time that Liz Phair was all about jaded cynicism.  To this day, when I play this song, I refused to sing the original lyrics.

The album version of Eminem's breakout hit Hi, My Name Is was another one that left me cold.  I found the radio edit fun and mischevious.. Eminem was a troublemaker, a bit of a miscreant but in a likeable way, kind of like a grown-up fucked up Dennis the Menace.  Of course the album version is a lot closer to what we were to expect from Eminem.. violent, mysogynistic etc.  Meh.

The latest one to get my goat is Enrique Iglesias' Tonight I'm Loving (Fucking) You (depending on the edit). The radio edit is irritating at best, but the album edit is creepy and downright rapey.  Come on, Enrique.  What happened to you?  Once upon a time you were all "Oh, I could be your hero, baby" and now this?  I guess the bloom is off the rose and all attempts at romance have gone right out the door.  Now you just sound like the asshole boyfriend who was all nice and sensitive and on his best game in the beginning but now his idea of foreplay is "Hey, wanna screw?"

What would your dad say, Enrique?

Source

Addenendum:  In response to this piece, I got the following string of text messages from The Danno and I felt I should share:

"Oh poor, sweet, innocent 'Drea - if only you'd heard the original cut to "Hero" it may not have come as such an ugly revelation... I can be your hero baby (with my cock) I can kiss away the pain (with my cock)"

"Enrique has always been a rapey pig and a disappointment to his father-soft core conservative radio edits only masked it from us for the last few years ;-)"

I just can't let shit go sometimes...

Dear Nick Flora,

I feel I need to clarify myself, and frankly, Twitter is not the platform. I’m sure that by carrying on this conversation I’m only digging myself deeper but I can’t leave this issue hanging.

The backstory:













What I mean to say is that there are certain things, like cars and computers, that I will not attempt to fix myself, because in my attempts to repair these items, there is a good chance I will only succeed in damaging them further, probably quite beyond repair.

Guitars are fabulous in their simplicity. If you have a guitar that is not functioning properly, chances are it is fixable. Short of ripping the electronics out and stomping on them and possibly lighting them on fire and having the neighbours dog come over and pee on them, then freezing them in liquid nitrogen and smashing them with a hammer, anything you do in your attempts to fix a guitar is not going to result in it being ‘more broken’ than it already is.

Wow. I’m STILL not articulating myself very well, am I?

*sigh*

If you have a guitar, and you try to fix it, and you find it completely unfixable, chances are it was unfixable from the beginning, not as a result of your attempts to repair it unless, of course, in the process of trying to fix the problem, you performed one of the many actions described above. In which case, Durr...

Basically in a roundabout way, I agree with your original statement.  Does that make sense now?

If not, I’m going to blame the oppressive heat for my inability to form a cohesive thought and choose to avoid speaking in more than monosyllables until the temperature decides to dip below 30C. Sound like a plan?

In the meantime, I thought that after confusing you, the least I could do is offer a more detailed explanation and some free publicity.

Nick’s Website and MySpace Page. Is good stuff. Has anyone ever told you that you sound kind of like that guy from Fastball?

"Houss-keepink? Hoooouuuussssskeepink?"

Just doing some light house keeping.  Updated the blogroll and took off some folks who are no longer blogging or actively blogging.

D'Artagnan, if you're reading this... WTF man?  Not even a good bye?

I've also added some folks to the roster who I think are worth a read, so take a gander and see if anyone catches your fancy.  Moved the Popular Posts over to the sidebar so I could include more posts.  If anyone knows how to do 'Random Posts' or 'Related Posts' and wants to let me in on the secret that'd be great.

To date, my most popular search term is "Tom Cavanagh" which has led a whole fifteen people to this little piece of the internet.  Is it wrong that a little part of me hopes that Tom Cavanagh spends his spare time Googling himself and will one day stumble across this blog and fall madly in love with me?

It'd be great.  We could get a cottage on Georgian Bay where we'd sit and be reminded of light beer.

And this could be me.  I thought photo-shopping my head onto Julie Bowen's body could be construed as "Creepy" - Source

The Tragically Hip are playing in Bobcaygeon  this weekend (and if you're a Hip Fan you will know how epic this really is) and I'm in physical pain from the knowledge that I won't be going.  I'd almost consider offering perverse sexual favours to the person who could offer me me a ticket, but then again if I was willing to go that far, I might have held off on cutting the most-recent-ex out of my life for a couple weeks or so.

Maybe Tom Cavanagh has an extra ticket?

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch this video on loop and drink heavily and cry.


Extra points for Hugh Dillon's cameo.

Author's Note:  Just wanted to point out how creepy, out of its proper context, this still from the video is.  It's like the girl is off screen is going "Noooooo!" at the approaching Gord Downie in all his law-enforcement intimidation (for context: she's opening the screen door for him)

A Very Special Reverse Objectification Wednesday.

Thank you, Sarah Lindahl (and Kira) for providing the inspiration for this post.

Think back.

Way back.  Your first crush.  No, maybe crush is the wrong word.  Crush can mean "Aww gee, I like you.  You're fun.  Let's ride bikes."  which is an awesome and cool way to feel about someone, but not quite what I'm getting at.

Think back to the awakening.  Yeah, that one.  The first time you had that tingly-in-the-pants (or for the gentleman, that tight-in-the-pants) red-faced I'm-gonna-barf feeling.  When suddenly, kissing wasn't gross anymore.

I was somewhere in the ballpark of eleven or twelve years old.  I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  It's not something I'm proud of, but it's a part of my past and there's nothing I can do to change it now.

The object of my pre-adolescent lust?  Here goes...  no, come closer...

Scott Bakula.

What?  You didn't catch that?  Okay, fine.  *sigh*

Scott Bakula.

Source

Shut up.

There was a love scene, I don't recall if it was in an episode of Quantum Leap or in the less-than-stellar football movie, Necessary Roughness, but my face went red and the pants got tingly and suddenly I didn't know where to look.

I think it may have been the latter, because I remember Mom took me and a bunch of kids from trailer park where we used to camp to the show, and I had a huge crush on one of the guys that came with us, even though he was two years older than me.  This may have added to my discomfort, since I had been inadvertently given new fodder for my inappropriate pubescent daydreams.

So how about you all?  Who was your first fantasy/crush/objet d'lust? (Je parle le francaise plus not real great)

Sweet Jesus! It's Reverse Objectification Wednesday!

.. and goodness gracious me, I'm not drooling over some obscure indie musician! Okay, in fairness, some of my previous posts weren't terribly Indie, and one was a T.V. guy (albeit a rather obscure one) but mostly I have a soft spot (or a wet spot.. tomato, tomahto) for the musicians.

I'm not much of a sports gal.  I'm definitely not much of a racing gal.  But I have long harboured an unapologetic dirty crush on Quebec race car driver Jacques Villeneuve.

Let's get to the objectification, shall we?

Source

Source

Source

So I was far more excited than any 30 year old woman should ever be when I saw the following:

Jacques Villeneuve to appear in Disney-Pixar’s CARS 2

Yeah, I'll be seeing this. It's definitely getting a pass on my moratorium on sequel making even though out of all the Disney Pixar movies, Cars was probably my least favorite (which is to say, I still liked it).  But I'll make an exception in this case because I'm a bit of a sucker for a good French-Canadian accent.  They'll make anything seem like a good idea, whether it's seeing the sequel to a film that may steal 90 minutes from my life I'll never get back, or making out with a 50-something Revenue Canada worker while on vacation.

Uhm... yeah...

Let's just forget I mentioned that last part mmmkay?  It'll be our little secret.

So yeah.. Apparently he'll basically be playing himself.. but.. as a car.

A pretty good-looking car, if you ask me.  How wrong would it be to fantasize about sprawling Whitesnake-video style across an anthropomorphized, animated version of a nummy looking race-car driver from Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu, Quebec?

...

Don't you judge me.

For D'artagnan...

...Since you asked.

Emily Haines and Aaron Lewis make a disconcertingly happy baby.

Or is she snarling?

Metric's sound appropriated for right-wing asswad - music fan is confused.

So I stumbled across an interesting bit of story today, via The Twitter.  Seems a fan by the name of Thomas Horn sent a letter to Metric (awesome band fronted by the gorgeous and talented yet perpetually sad/dull-eyed Emily Haines) to let them know that a riff from one of their songs was being co-opted by a radio station in Pittsburgh for use in the intro to right-wing extremist looney-tune Glenn Beck's radio program.

Turns out Emily and the boys didn't have a clue their tune was being used.  Aghast and all full of 'Why-I-a-Outrage' they contacted their publisher "with a mortified WTF?" who informed them that the station was covered under a blanket license which let's them use the music how they want, albeit in small doses.

Even so, the publisher contacted the radio station and asked them to pretty pretty please not to use Metric's music because they love all things fair and just and Beck is a douche.  This is how I imagined the conversation might go*:

Sad Emily Is Sad.  Source

"Hello,  Philadelphia 104.7, this is the legal department.  How may I help you?"
"Hi, I represent the band Metric.  We heard that you're using one of their songs to open for the Glenn Beck Insanity Hour, and we'd like you pretty pretty please to stop, thanks."
"Well, legally we're allowed to do what we want with it, in small doses.  It's blanket license."
"Yeah, I know, but I thought you could, you know, just stop anyway.  See.. we don't much care for Beck, being Beck and all.  The situation is making Emily all sad and dull-eyed, more so than usual."
"Ahh, I see.  Hmm. Since we're good guys, and secretly we all think Glenn's a douche as well, we'll take it off for you."
"Sweet thanks."

Clearly, I have no idea how entertainment law works.

So happily ever after.  Here's what bugs me:

Is it that, as pondered in Em's letter back to Thomas, that it seems that the teabag-assbag is trying to co-opt the lefties for his show.  Canadian Lefties, even?  (as my dear friend UncleJubb likes to refer to us... communists to the north).

No.

Throughout the correspondence, they refer to the use of Metric's song Rock Me Now, from the 2007 release, Grow Up and Blow Away.  But listen to the sample** of Beck's show provided with Thomas' letter. (I'll just mention here that I hate when people refer to Glenn Beck as Beck, because I always think people are referring to Beck Hansen and I want to fight them.  Because I LOVE Beck.  Hansen.)

Beck.  ❤  Source

Uhm.  Not so much.  Source

Creepin' crap, where was I?  Yeah.  Listen to the clip.

That's not "Rock Me Now", it's "Too Little, Too Late" off of 2007's other release Live It Out.  I should know, I played that riff non-stop when I first learned it.  How has nobody noticed this.. NOT EVEN THE BAND THEMSELVES?

I don't why this bothers me.  Maybe because I'm just anal-retentive in my desire for accurate music trivia.  Maybe it's because when I pointed the mistake out in a reply to the tweet on Metric's Twitter feed I was hoping for some kind of response like "Hey! Good ear!" or "Way to pay attention to detail!" or "Actually Buffy St. Marie smells like vanilla and cookies, if you're wondering."

But nothing.  *sigh*

At least I know I'm right.

*you may want to read the letters in the article for the actual legaleeze.
**Note:  Weird.  They've taken the sound clip out, for reasons unknown.  Well, take my word for it, it was not Rock Me Now.

Thoughts on this years Juno Awards, keeping in mind that I didn't actually watch them, not having cable.

... But I've enjoyed reading the tweets and looking at the pictures.  And even though I generally hate award shows, I wish I had watched.  In reviewing various photos and blogs and articles, I have a few thoughts.

What the fuck is with Win Butler's hair?  And why doesn't he have eyebrows?

Emily Haines consistently manages to look dead on the inside.  Even when smiling.  She has that coked-out life-beaten dead-eyed prostitute look about her.  It's sad and disturbing, because I really really like her as a musician, but when I see the pictures I just want to hug her and go "Be happy, Emily Haines.  It's not so bad as all that."  The only picture I saw where she looked truly happy (nay, blissful) was the one that was posted on Metric's twitter feed.  She's hugging Buffy Ste. Marie.  And smelling her, it looks like.

I wonder what Buffy Ste. Marie smells like?  For some reason I imagine she smells like fresh tobacco, cookies and Grandma.

I heard so much on Twitter last night about how great Jim Cuddy looked that I was actually kind of disappointed today when I saw pictures.  I mean, he looked good, dapper, as he generally does, but I don't know, I was kind of expecting radiance, I guess.  I thought he was going to be sparkling or something. It's like that Simpsons episode where Homer sees the sign for the world's biggest cookie, then he buys it and is like "Oh.. well I guess it's pretty big."  but you can tell it didn't live up to his expectations.

Well... he looks pretty good, I guess.

It's okay though, I still love you, Jim Cuddy.
Neil Young gets scarier looking with every passing year.

The Canadian music industry is a sea of Buddy Holly Glasses.

This is common in most music award shows, but I hate when performers/presenters/nominees/whathaveyou can't be bothered to dress up a bit.  It's a fucking award show?  If I was at one of these things, I'd be like Cinderfrigginrella in my princesseyness.

I mean, Shania Twain is one of my least favorite people in the world, but at least she knows how to dress for an awards show.

Shania loves our bushes, apparently.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, Classified looks like he's on his way to an inner-city basketball court,

and Hollerado couldn't be bothered to brush their hair

Hey, Hollerado.. try and look a little more greasy, please?

 And hey, to that guy from Barenaked Ladies whose name I can't remember, but I know you replaced one of the Creggan brothers.. well, this MIGHT just be the kind of occasion that warrants remembering to shave, mmkay?

At least Tyler attempted a suit.. kind of?

There were many who managed to clean up rather nicely, both young and old (Ben Kowalewisz, I'm looking at you, baby.  That's right)

I guess this post is mostly about my irritation with music award shows and their distinct lack of glitz.  I know, I know, it's a 'too cool for school' mentality which is prevalent in the music industry (especially amongst rock genres.. frankly, a lot of the hip-hop artists in attendance looked pretty smashing.  Kardinal Offishal's orange suit was a thing of beauty).

Maybe as someone who doesn't get a chance to dress up very often, I wonder why more people don't take the opportunity.

Oh?  The actual awards?  Meh.  Arcade Fire won, the Biebs won.  No real surprises.  Matthew Good was confused as to why his album Vancouver won Best Rock Album when it was released in 2009. I'm sad I missed the Canadian artists tribute.. I'm sure it'll show up on YouTube.

Photo Sources:
www.zimbio.com
www.torontosun.com
twitter.com/Metric