E'rybody Say "Awww"!

I, for one, cannot resist a baby animal. Why would I want to?

This Canada gosling was sunning on the beach on Saturday (while I was waiting for the ferry to Nanaimo) with two siblings and Mama guarding one flank and Papa guarding the other.

Personally, I think they were all enjoying the attention.
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"Michael Tolliver Lives"

As will often happen, while researching the previous post I made a discovery so incredible I almost couldn't finish the last post because I was so excited to write this one.

June 1st, 2007, marks the US publication date of a new book by Armistead Maupin entitled - you guessed it - Michael Tolliver Lives. It's been nearly 20 years since Sure Of You completed the run of Tales of the City, and now finally comes word of the seventh book in this beloved series.

This from the publisher:

Michael Tolliver, the sweet-spirited Southerner in Armistead Maupin's classic "Tales of the City" series, is arguably one of the most widely loved characters in contemporary fiction. Now, almost twenty years after ending his groundbreaking saga of San Francisco life, Maupin revisits his all-too-human hero, letting the 55-year-old gardener tell his story in his own voice.

Having survived the plague that took so many of his friends and lovers, Michael has learned to embrace the random pleasures of life, the tender alliances that sustain him in the hardest of times. "Michael Tolliver Lives" follows its protagonist as he finds love with a younger man, attends to his dying fundamentalist mother in Florida, and finally reaffirms his allegiance to a wise octogenarian who was once his landlady.

While "Michael Tolliver Lives" is a stand alone novel, accessible to old and new readers alike, a reassuring number of familiar faces appear along the way. As usual, the author's mordant wit and ear for pitch-perfect dialogue serve every aspect of the story— from the bawdy to the bittersweet. "Michael Tolliver Lives" is a novel about the act of growing older joyfully and the everyday miracles that somehow make that possible.
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Screened: "Stella Dallas" (1937)

The reputation of the film Stella Dallas as a paragon of motherlove suffers, mainly because such a label both reduces and disguises what the film is really about.

Poor Stella Martin (Barbara Stanwyck), the daughter of a millhand and a drudge (an all-too-brief appearance by Marjorie Main), is an ambitious girl. Entranced by a story of lost love in the weekend photo supplements, she sets out to woo and wed its swain, Stephen Dallas, played by the handsome John Boles.

That she succeeds is a foregone conclusion. That she then transforms herself into a scheming social climber would be easily explained away if the birth of her daughter Laurel (later played as a teenager by Anne Shirley) didn't turn her overnight into the kind of woman whose own thwarted ambitions are sublimated onto her daughter. Stella doesn't seem to know who or what she is, which may also be part of the problem, although it is unaddressed in the film.

Much of this is the fault of the author, Olive Higgins Prouty, whose feminism is unfortunately nearly always smothered in the kind of melodrama that would suffocate a Victorian. Prouty was later to tout psychotherapy in another potboiler made into a tear-jerker (Now, Voyager), but it seems Stella Dallas could use a session or two on the couch as well.

After marrying and becoming Mrs. Stephen Dallas, then having her daughter, Stella can't seem to catch a break. She wants the swell life but doesn't like the swell people who come with it, and they decidedly don't like her. She talks of wanting to be refined, but makes no effort to do so, mainly because the man who loves her tells her not to change. Stella's friendship with Ed Munn (a blowhard played with great verve by Alan Hale) seems to play an equal part in her downfall, inasmuch as Munn seems to have a habit of putting Stella in awkward situations which Stella, for her part, can't or won't explain away.

When Stephen Dallas is shopping for Laurel's birthday present one day, long after he and Stella have separated, he meets his old flame (Helen Dane Morrison, played by Barbara O'Neil), which is bad enough. When it's shortly revealed that she's a widow this rapidly becomes as heart-breaking a scene as any in the film. Gradually, of course, Laurel is won over, and soon Stella is given the onerous task of driving her own beloved daughter away for her own good.

True, there is much in here about a mother's love and sacrifice, but the film's subliminal message seems to rail against social climbing and dating outside of one's class. Since Stella is referred to consistently as an excellent seamstress, it would seem that a truly feminist message would be that Stella should open a dress shop, and so gain her entree to so-called "polite society" in that way. Then again, despite her ability with a needle, much is made of the garish way Stella uses those talents.

If such a suggestion were made by Mrs. Prouty in the novel, it is not present in the film. In fact, I would be eager to read the book, if only because it might serve to flesh out the inner life of its heroine better than a film portrayal can hope to. Not that Stanwyck doesn't try, and in fact, this confusion over her identity may have been intentional.

I doubt anyone but Stanwyck could have played such emotions so naturally, but play them she does, and for all they're worth too. Several times she lets conflicting emotions loose across her face, and it's as much a testament to the clarity of DVD technology as it is to Stanwyck's abilities that we actually get to see them all.

In the film's famous final scene, a bedraggled Stella crowds her way to a window at the Dallas' townhouse, and there witnesses her daughter's marriage. Just to add insult to poor Stella's misery, it's pouring rain; then, for punctuation, she is given the bum's rush by a cop with a truncheon.

It's Mother's Day, so I'll go easier on the film than Mrs. Prouty was on the character. Love and sacrifice are excellent qualities in anyone, including a mother; martyrdom and the subsumation of a woman's identity for her children... Not so much. While there is much to be admired in this production (it's an excellent movie) it serves a modern audience best as a curio, rather than a model.
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RIP King Malietoa Tanumafili II of Samoa

His Highness was the oldest head of state in the world; he died Friday aged 94 in hospital in the Samoan capital, Apia. He was also the world's third longest reigning monarch, behind Bhumibol of Thailand (1946) and Elizabeth II (1952), having come to the throne in 1962.

[S O U R C E]
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BC Ferries: Cruising The Straits

Well, this is the thanks I get for going off half-cocked.

It turns out my big day trip to Nanaimo was a flop, so rather than dwell on the failure of it, I have chosen to look upon it as a) a learning experience, b) a fact-finding mission, and c) an excuse to have a lovely boat ride and take a lot of pretty pictures.

In fact, I took enough pictures to do three or four photo essays.

First, I should explain: the title isn't mine.

There is a legend (which many claim is true, which is the way it is with legends) that either in the 70s or in the 80s (legends not being known for their accuracy) BC Ferries commissioned that very slogan and either was about to or had already rolled out their ad campaign based around it, when someone explained to them what it meant.

Ever since, certain muck-raking bitches (myself proudly included), have refused to let the legend die. I would love to come into possession of some piece of proof that the story was true, and so I am making my wish upon the Internet, which has done so much for me thus far.

Maybe some day the evidence I seek will surface.



British Columbia's waters are very much working waters: the Port of Vancouver does a massive amount of the Nation's business, car and passenger ferries chug between the mainland and dozens of offshore islands (the largest of which is Vancouver Island) and fishing boats, whale-watching and other eco-tours, cruise ships, and pleasure craft make up the rest.

On this day I took the ferry from Horseshoe Bay, on the mainland, to Departure Bay in Nanaimo, which is on Vancouver Island. It sailed at 3 PM, arrived at 4:40, at which time I turned around and came back on the 5 PM, returning at 6:37 - three minutes early! It cost $11.50 to go, and $5.95 to return, plus $4.50 for bus fare there and back - $21.95 for a nice day out.



The ferries themselves can be quite large, but they are dwarfed by the sheer immensity of the Coast Mountains. The arrival and departure provide the best scenery (if you can find a spot at the rail between photographers) mainly because the boats are moving more slowly, but also because of the stretch of open water in the middle of the journey.

This is more pronounced on the southern route from Tswassen to Saanich/Victoria.

It can be furiously windy, too, as it was this day. As warm as it was on land, I was wishing I'd worn long pants once I was on the boat. Fortunately there are many places to go to warm up, and the amenities on the boats are ample.



Leaving Horseshoe Bay, the ferry gets a pretty spectacular view of Vancouver between the mainland (on the left) and Bowen Island (on the right). I was unprepared for this, as it had been 25 years since I'd last taken the trip. Also, 25 years ago, the view would not have looked quite like this. Our little city has certainly done some growing up!



Mid-water can be the most relaxing. The passage itself is a symphony of blue and grey tones at the best of times. This combined with the sea air and the gentle rocking motion is almost worth the fare itself. Since I have no time or money with which to travel, I was looking for an experience that would feel like travel, and I got it, right down to the relief at finally being home.



Approaching Nanaimo the spiny back of Vancouver Island looms up; some of these mountains are visible from Vancouver's English Bay (on very clear days). Though it is thought of as something of a backwater populated by yokels, this is a typically urban myth. Most of the people on Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands are refugees from the city.

Besides which, there are plenty of rednecks and yokels living right here in the city. I know this because, in my line of work, I either deal with them or work with them regularly.



I don't know anyone who's moved offshore, so I have no pied-a-terre on the Sunshine Coast as of yet. But some day, maybe... I keep telling myself that I'll one day rent a kayak and travel around these islands a little more intimately. I may yet do that as well.



I was surprised to see so much snow cover so late in the season. Though it's picturesque, it spells potential disaster if a heat wave hits, which has been known to happen in May. Some of the snow cover is glacial, though, in which case, I'd prefer it if it stayed right where it is.



I decided to end on a poignantly arty shot of a fishing boat sailing off into the sunset. I tweaked it a little, casting a golden hue over what was originally almost black and white. The BC fishery could use a little golden glow right now seeing as it, like all fisheries, is threatened.

I will get the trip to Nanaimo I originally planned, only next time I'll put a little more preparation into it. In the meantime I hope the pictures show that the day wasn't a total wash.
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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

In answer to alla y'all who seem to think that I was hatched, or came from spores (you know who you are), I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce you to my mother, Penny.

In addition to being a community leader in Kelowna, serving as President of the Ladies Auxiliary of the Royal Canadian Legion there on several occasions, she is also personally involved in caring for the elderly in a palliative setting. She has always been a fervent animal welfare activist, having rescued the 10 cats which live with her, and dozens more from a thoughtless neighbour whose two became thirty or forty recently.

Though I have often cited my grandmother - her mother - as the greatest influence on my life, I would not be who I am without my mother's guidance. Her mistakes, as well as her successes, gave both my life and my ambitions their focus and drive. When I was younger I fought with her (often quite bitterly) and through it all she never once lost her cool, even though I was a real jerk. I guess I was testing her unconditional love. She passed that test, though, as that is the only way she knows how to love.

I can see now that even her mistakes were well-meaning, that I as a teenager turned her protection into smothering and her concern into censure. There were a few years there in which it was anybody's guess whether I would survive myself; I have no doubt I wouldn't have if it hadn't have been for her.

Mother's Day, then, is a very special one for me and always has been. In my heart, every day is Mother's Day.
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WTF: Purex Billboard, W. 8th & Ash

Normally, I am so inured to advertising that I can pretty well ignore it. Hell, I have to; I'm so suggestible I'll be in line at the Shopper's Drug Mart with the box of maxi-pads even before I realise what I'm doing. Nevertheless, my photographer's eye snagged on this ingenious bit of business one day recently when I was already late for work.

So out came the camera, followed by this shot, which was itself followed by several blocks of speedwalking to make up for lost time. In fact, I was so worried I'd be late for work, I could have used some Purex.

Hmm...
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Isn't It Funny?

Last week at lunch I was asking a great friend of this blog if, in his opinion, there was anything I could be posting about here that I haven't been. He said he couldn't think of anything. Personally, I think he was just being nice, because I thought of a couple things myself without hardly any effort.

The first of these: I mentioned to him that I'd often come across a birthday in my research that I was reluctant to headline as "Happy Birthday" since the person in question was dead. As I was wondering aloud how I might include them anyway I suggested posting them as "In Memoriam". Bang! An idea is born.

This was not the first time I've answered my own question; Hell, it wasn't even the first time last week.

Another thing that interests me that I don't blog about is movies, especially those from the 1930s. The post from a couple of days about "Thirty Day Princess" felt so good to write (and is just the sort of thing one might Google) that I've decided to do more of these.

A lot of blogs (such as Y|O|Y) cover new shows, and it's these posts which drive alot of traffic to their sites. Well, I'm not able to blog about new shows, due to my hectic and changeable work schedule, but I can go the other way, and chronicle the obscure, in hopes of luring those of similar taste into my clutches. Er, my, uh... Oh, let's face it, the only word that works is clutches.

Plus, if I can interest someone who isn't a fan, that'll be a bonus.

I just wanted to say thank you for Seumas, for being such a good sounding board, and Gavin as well, for obliquely giving me an idea that may yet elevate me into the next level of the blogosphere.
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If It Makes You Happy...

What a day for babies here at the Pop Culture Institute!

The day started with news of Dezi James and ended with news of Wyatt Steven, who was recently adopted by none other than Sheryl Crow herself.

[S O U R C E]
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Screened: "Thirty Day Princess" (1934)

Any qualms I may have had concerning the picture quality of "Thirty Day Princess" going into it were immediately dispelled as its credits began to roll.

Universal's film restorers are continuing to outdo themselves. This film couldn't have looked as good in its initial theatrical release as it does today on DVD. Despite a couple of obviously missing elements (which are nonetheless well-glossed over) both picture and sound here are peerless. There is a full-range of tones present, making the black-and-white photography look almost creamy.

The story is slight, a bit formulaic, but addresses the Depression (which is rare for a film of that era) and features a sprightly, nuanced performance by Sylvia Sidney and fine work both by Cary Grant and Edward Arnold, as a crusading newspaper editor and a plutocratic banker respectively. There's even a bit of split-screen, in which Nancy Lane and Princess Zizzi (both played by Sidney) get to play a scene together.

I'll never know why Sylvia Sidney wasn't a bigger star (in this film she's billed above the title, and Grant's is the first name below it). Then again, not being a blonde might have something to do with it. Still, from her first picture, 1929's "Thru Different Eyes" to her last film "Mars Attacks" (1996) she never seemed to hurt for work, mainly thanks to television.

Now I can't wait to get to the rest of "Screen Legends Collection: Cary Grant". Up next: "Kiss and Make Up" (1934), co-starring Genevieve Tobin.
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Blog Fodder - A Moment of Gloating

I have just read in Xtra West where BC Bears Society has decided to "hibernate" for awhile, due to declining membership. If I can be permitted a moment to gloat:

In 1999 I tried to join BC Bears Society. My (then-, now ex-) partner and I had just moved here and my social network took a commensurate hit; I was looking for something to join. Vancouver Pride Society and Out On Screen (the queer film festival) had both rejected me despite my sterling credentials for both.

I went to Pride Day that year and afterwards, at the community fair, I spotted the BC Bears table. When I approached it and asked about joining them the skinny guy working there looked me up and down and in the bitchiest, faggiest way told me to come back when I'd gained a hundred pounds.

Well, I must have been three hundred pounds that day, at least a hundred pounds heavier than this guy. The fact that I'd been met with the same attitude everywhere else (only everywhere else I'd been told to lose a hundred pounds, rather than gain it) was not lost on me.

Since I obviously didn't fit into mainstream gay and I wasn't going to be accepted even at the fringes of the community, I withdrew from all gay community activities at that point. Maybe that wasn't the most sensible course of action, but what else could I do? Why would I continue to fight to be included in something that had already rejected me so many times?

I decided that day to focus on those aspects of humanity that I thought might be more appreciative of my efforts, namely the arts and social justice. Within Pandora's Collective and even COPE I have managed to make my contribution to society in more meaningful ways; even if neither has done anything to enhance my sex life, Pandora's Collective has at least introduced me to many fine friends I wouldn't have met if I'd stayed on Davie Street.

I suspect many other men were rejected by BC Bears in a similarly callous manner, probably by this same volunteer, which is likely what led to the declining numbers at their meetings. I can't say I'm not glad to hear it; editorial policy permits me to freely gloat whenever snobs and bigots and any kind of petty tyrant gets their comeuppance.

For those men whose lifeline this community was, I do feel bad, though. May I suggest leaving your ghetto behind and traveling amongst regular people for awhile?

There. I'm done now.
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Welcome Dezi James Cubiche

Leggy "My Name is Earl" stunner Jaime Pressly and her DJ boyfriend (the similarly leggy, similarly stunning) Eric Cubiche welcomed a little bundle today. Dezi James was born in Los Angeles at 7:31 AM local time, and weighed in at 6 pounds 4 ounces. He's named after Desi Arnaz (despite the misspelling) and Pressly's father.
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There's Something About Cary

How an English homosexual named Archie Leach became the quintessentially American ladies man Cary Grant is a greater story than any of those he told on film during his prodigious career.

To the many "stars" whose careers fizzle after a decade or less, the over seventy films he made between 1933 and 1966 ought to serve as a primer on survival in Hollywood. They are romantic comedies, screwballs, dramas, and thrillers, and among them are some of the finest of their type ever made.

At a time when Hollywood's romantic leading men were infected with a bland sameness, Grant was a definite brand apart. In that way he was more akin with Gary Cooper and Humphrey Bogart than Robert Taylor and George Brent.

I just bought a 5-movie box set of his earlier works, into which I am about to dive. Despite being familiar with Grant's oeuvre, not one of these titles was familiar to me. Their leading ladies are, though: Sylvia Sidney, Genevieve Tobin, Myrna Loy, and Joan Bennett. I was a tiny bit reluctant to buy it, as it's not released by a major studio, and films from the early 30s are of a notoriously poor quality due to print degradation.

Ultimately, I don't care; I'll squint through grit if I have to, in order to gain this glimpse into the early career of an enduring Hollywood legend.
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RIP Dwight 'Percy' Wilson

As of today, Canada has one remaining veteran of the First World War.

The second-to-last, Dwight 'Percy' Wilson, died today at Toronto's Sunnybrook Hospital. He was 106.

The remaining Canadian veteran of the conflict - John Babcock - lives in Spokane, Washington.

[S O U R C E]
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Cause Of "Great Gray Malaise" Determined

Cranial examination of michael sean morris, director of the obscure blog Pop Culture Institute has revealed the source of the "great gray malaise" from which he was said to suffer.

"It turns out to be nothing more than existential angst, which exacerbated a pre-existing condition of Irritable Bowel Syndrome," morris said, when reached via email at the Institute's headquarters. "I found myself, night after night, sitting at the computer and wondering why I was doing it: writing, photography, blogging."

It seems spending all that time in your head isn't good for you, and then to spend most of it with your head up your ass only makes matters worse, especially if it irritates your bowel.

"It occurred to me," he continued, "That the most appropriate answer to 'Why?' is 'Why not?' The most successful people in show business are obviously not hindered by such angst. Otherwise there wouldn't be anything on TV. They just continue to churn it out."

Having discovered the source of his ailment, morris said he plans to move ahead on all the projects he'd planned, including an expanded blog, sitcoms, and novels. "Now that I don't always have to stop myself and think 'what's the point' I can continue to clutter the public consciousness with more useless memes and annoying catchphrases. As well as bringing my readers the best of such things from around the world and throughout time."

He concluded: "It's an exciting time."
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Queen and President: Duelling Speeches

On her last night in Washington, Elizabeth II hosted a return banquet at the British Embasssy for the President and First Lady.

To make a toast, Her Majesty rose first:

Mr. President, I wondered whether I should start this toast saying, "When I was here in 1776" -- (laughter and applause.)

Mr. President, it is a real pleasure to welcome you and Mrs. Bush here this evening. Over our six days in the United States, we have much enjoyed the chance to dwell on the history of the relationship between our two countries, as well as celebrating its present strength and vitality. I would like to thank everyone for the warmth and kindness extended to us.

I would also like to take this opportunity, on the day that has seen the formal transfer of power to the devolved Northern Ireland government, to thank you and your predecessors for your contribution to bringing peace to Northern Ireland.

May I ask everyone to rise and drink a toast to President and Mrs. Bush, to the future of our two countries, and the enduring friendship between Britain and the United States.

Mr. President.

(A toast is offered.)

The President then rose to acknowledge the Queen's kind and witty words.

Your Majesty, I can't top that one. (Laughter.)

Your Royal Highness, distinguished guests, thank you so much for a warm welcome. Laura and I appreciate your hospitality. I particularly want to thank Ambassador Manning and Lady Manning for inviting us to your home.

The friendship between the British and American people is one of the oldest and most enduring in history. This friendship has been built on the common ideal of freedom, and forged by our shared sacrifices in freedom's defense.

Your Majesty, I appreciate your visit to our World War II Memorial. I thank you for sharing your perspective last night on how the Atlantic Alliance that emerged from a great conflict has helped lay the foundation for freedom's triumph in Europe and beyond.

Today, British and American troops are following the example set by a previous generation. Troops from our two countries are serving side by side to bring the hope of liberty to regions that have not known it. Together we're supporting young democracies that are taking their first steps on the path to free and peaceful societies.

This morning the world witnessed yet another advance for freedom and peace -- the people of Northern Ireland took control of their future when Catholics and Protestants came together to form a new government that offers the prospect of peace and reconciliation after years of violence and division. In Belfast today, we're seeing once again how democracy and freedom can help heal a wounded world.

Your Majesty, thank you for your words tonight, and for the love and affection you have shown the American people over many years. In this spirit, I offer a toast to Your Majesty, to Your Royal Highness, and to our closest of friends, the British people.

(A toast is offered.)

The Pop Culture Institute offers you its own toast, Your Majesty:

Long may you reign!
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Queen In Space, At Mall

On the Queen's last full day in the US, she visited NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland.

While there Her Majesty listened to three astronauts describing their duties onboard the International Space Station.

After leaving Goddard the Queen is expected to lay a wreath at the WWII memorial on the National Mall before returning the favour by hosting the President and First Lady to a banquet at the British Embassy.

The Queen and Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, return to London May 8th.
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A State Dinner Fit For A Queen

130 guests joined the President, First Lady and the royal couple at the White House Monday for the first white-tie affair of the Bush Administration.

The menu featured British cuisine, and the speeches subtly disagreed, and a marvellous time was had by all.

[S O U R C E]
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Queen Arrives At White House

The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh were warmly greeted at the White House Monday by the President and First Lady.



There followed the usual speeches, including a now-famous flub made by the President, a lunch and a garden party.

The royal couple will not be staying in the White House, but rather at nearby Blair House, where guests of state stay.

The six-day visit wraps up this evening, with the Bush Administration's first-ever white-tie dinner. The Queen and Prince Philip fly back to London tomorrow.

[S O U R C E]
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No Comment: When Readers Attack

On a site like Gawker there are so many commenters that they can afford to delete a few every so often. They do this in a way which is designed to not offend the remaining commenters, but nevertheless sends the message to its users about expected modes of behaviour while on the site in a suitably hip and humourous way.

The posts where this occurs usually fall under the grim heading of Commenter Executions; in preparing this piece, a simple search at Gawker yielded 342 examples, making Gawker's Commenter Executions a more-or-less weekly event.

Well, I'm not executing anyone, but I did receive a trio of comments which I will not be moderating. Instead, they will be placed here, where they can be dissected and studied. This is just one of the risks of dealing with me; anything that happens involving me is potential blog fodder. It remains to be seen whether such a policy will ultimately draw more people to me or drive them away. Anyway, "them's the risks", as they say; also, since it's my blog, "nanny nanny poo poo" if you don't like it.

Firstly, this trio of comments were published anonymously. Now, when I started this blog I was anything but adept at managing it, and so I'd had it set up that only other Blogspot members could leave comments. After about the sixth or seventh post, I was informed that this was the case (by another frequent commenter) and I remedied the situation.

The commenter in question (let's call him Mr. X) has been informed of this change of status, but still publishes anonymously, although lately he's at least taken to putting his name in the body of the comment. That, and given the calibre of the comments themselves, is what we in the business call "too little too late".

I realise it's a bit of a hassle to leave a comment, what with the mystery word and all, and I thank all of you who willingly undergo this precautionary step in order to do so. Given the nature of this blog, and the type of subject matter being dealt with, I feel it's my responsibility to protect it and its readers from flamers and haters of all kinds.

I'm sure I will give this practise up once there are so many comments that moderating them cuts into my writing time.

* * *

On the post "Now Showing - Jimmy Carr" Mr. X wrote:

"stodgy brit wit, though i want more american patronizing"

Nothing wrong in that per se but it should be pointed out that Jimmy Carr wasn't just patronising to Americans, but to the British audience as well. Thus the joke. Had Mr. Carr only been patronising towards Americans, I doubt I'd have found it as funny. In fact, it can be argued that Mr. Carr wasn't poking fun at Americans at all, but rather at himself. Wanting "more american patronising", Mr. X comes dangerously close to hater territory. I also disagree with the word "stodgy", but as Mr. X is entitled to his opinion, I won't make any judgement about that.

On "Queen's Address To Virginia Assembly" he wrote:

"that peacock-looking violet-blue and coral red hat is garish, gaudy and god-awful...definitely the ugliest hat ever!"

No word about the speech, just straight to the hat.

Now the hat may be garish and gaudy but as it is an exemplar of the kind of hats the Queen always wears it is hardly exceptional; as for the ugliest hat ever, that would be a hardhat. The second ugliest hat ever is the do-rag Mr. X himself has worn every single day since 1988. The Queen's hats are an admittedly touchy subject with me; here is where the policy "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" comes most fully into play.

His final comment was in response to On This Day in Pop Culture (1931):

"when u do finally fuck off to nyc, don't bother going up there -- too damn crowded with tourists"

Since if I didn't want to go where there are tourists a) I wouldn't travel, b) I wouldn't travel to New York, and c) I definitely wouldn't go to the top of the Empire State Building, this comment seems like a shitty opinion wrapped up in a greasy bit of passive-aggressive advice then lobbed through my picture window. Not going somewhere just because there are tourists there kind of negates the entire reason for travel in the first place.

* * *

None of these comments is particularly hateful in itself, but rather point to a certain attitude which indicates that Mr. X just doesn't get it. I try to make the Pop Culture Institute a welcoming place, if nothing else, and expect the same of my readers. Whatever else Mr. X's comments are, "welcoming" isn't one of them. If you must be intemperate or snide, at least be funny, well-informed, or willing to enjoin in some serious badinage.

There. Now that's done I can apologize for the clunky syntax here and go back to nursing my hangover. I got a little wild celebrating my 600th post last night, and I'm feeling it today. I'm afraid there isn't enough Calgon in the world to take me away from this headache.

Thank you for your time and patience in this matter.

MSM
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