Cartoonists In Hot Ink?

The Bourbon-anza continues, as Spain's Royal Family continues to hog the headlines.

The cartoon at left depicts the Prince and Princess of Asturias (the future King and Queen of Spain) "begetting the son and heir". The caption reads as follows:

<sup>Felipe: Te das cuenta? Si te quedas prenada, esto va a ser lo mas parecido a trabajar que he hecho en mi vida?"

Translation: "Do you realise, if you get pregnant this will be the closest thing I've done to work in my whole life."</sup>

Those responsible, Guillermo Torres (the cartoonist) and Manel Fontdevila (who wrote the caption), "vilified the crown in the most gratuitous and unnecessary way", according to the judge who fined them each € 3,000 yesterday for their efforts; the cartoon originally appeared in El Jueves (The Thursday) on July 18th of this year, and the issue was hastily withdrawn two days later due to a near universal outrage. It refers to a government scheme to reward Spaniards financially for having more children.

Aside from the usual slur that royals do no work (I'd like to see you feign interest while unveiling yet another plaque), most commentators in Spain seemed shocked that the royal couple were doing it "doggie-style", which apparently has no Hispanic transliteration, although I refuse to believe it's never been done there. I pawed my way through half a dozen blogs with my tragic Spanish, and it was often the only phrase I understood.

The royal couple married in May 2004 and currently have two children, Infanta Leonor (born in 2005), and Infanta Sofia (born in April of this year).

[S O U R C E]
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Megan Mullally Talks With Jay Leno (2001)

One week into the Writer's Strike and I am wicked jonesing for my chat shows; since most of them are the same old recycled small-talk over and over again, YouTube does the trick.

Birthday gal Megan Mullally, though... She really gives good interview; too bad her own show - cleverly titled The Megan Mullally Show - was unable to find itself an audience, running a mere 71 episodes in 2006-7.

If you happen to be in Manhattan, Mullally's new show Young Frankenstein just opened at the Hilton Theatre; the show is unaffected by the current strike/lockout of stagehands currently plaguing Broadway.
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Spanish King To Chavez: "Shut Up"

What a headline grabber King Juan Carlos of Spain is becoming! The normally mild-mannered monarch is turning into the Duke of Edinburgh right before our very eyes.

Last week he rode into battle against Islam like a modern-day Ferdinand III of Castile by visiting Ceuta and Mellilla - two long-held Spanish enclaves in Morocco - with his good lady Queen in tow, setting off an political firestorm in the process (a no-no for a constitutional monarch). Now he's furthering the cause of international diplomacy by asking Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez "¿Por qué no te callas?" (Why don't you shut up? - in a tone reserved for children) for his constant interruptions of Spanish Prime Minister José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, igniting a controversy at the normally staid Ibero-American Summit.

I mean, before all this went down, who even knew there was such a thing?

Chávez responded with questions of his own about the King's knowledge of or involvement in an attempted coup against his leadership in 2002, during which Manuel Viturro (the Spanish ambassador at the time) appeared in public with Pedro Carmona, his would-be overthrower; then he called Zapatero's predecessor José María Aznar a 'fascist', just for good measure.

I guess this means later this week it's off to Hollywood for Britney's weekly intervention, a guest spot on Dancing With the Stars, and possibly a charity bullfight for PETA.

Ole! Mr. King, and touché!

[S O U R C E]
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Prince Harry No Longer A Chelsy Supporter

Well, if this isn't a black fly in his Chardonnay I don't know what is.

It seems Prince Harry's Zimbabwean girlfriend Chelsy Davy has dumped him after he missed her 22nd birthday to go to the Rugby World Cup Final in Paris; apparently our Chelsy is well fed up with his boozing and coozing.

It's out of the frying pan into the fire for Prince Harry, who's already been raked over the coals this week for allegedly blasting protected hen harriers out of the skies over Sandringham. Although no charges are likely to be laid (since the event likely never took place) for a couple of days there it looked like his goose was cooked.

Speaking as a major apologist for the Royal Family, I doubt the event happened, even though Harry and his brother William are a little too fond of the hunting for my (and, no doubt, their mother's) liking. Obviously a selective cull is a sound part of wildlife management; but when it takes forty aristos on horseback in red coats and a pack of dogs to get one fox I'm afraid I have to draw the line, no matter how historic or photogenic it may be.

Such is the untenable situation the royals occupy in their own country that if I were to say that Prince Harry killed and ate a Martian prostitute there would be people willing to believe it; no matter how preposterous a suggestion, the chattering classes tend to hate whatever they can't understand, starting with royalty.

A n y w a y... What was I talking about?

Oh yeah! So, he's single girls - have at 'im. If you like sporty ginger blokes who aren't all clingy and will one day inherit a grand title, he's yours for the taking.
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Controversy: When Is Nancy Cartwright's Birthday?

With all that's going on in the world, this is what sticks in my craw?

It was my genuine intention to mark the birthday of one of the world's most talented voice actors (the voice of Bart Simpson, for the love of freak!) and here I've ended up in this morass.

Mmm... More ass...

Go on and Google "Nancy Cartwright birthday" sometime; in fact, I just did it for you. According to the Internet Movie Database it's October 25th. Same with TV.com and Wikipedia. Same goes for the Pop Culture Institute. According to Yahoo TV, and of course Wikipedia (her page and the notable birthdays page) though, it's today. Yet not three weeks ago her page stated it was October 25th. This definitely highlights the numerous shortcomings of Wikipedia, upon which much of this blog is based.

Well, I've been moving this blog away from its Wikipedia dependence for that very reason; it's getting to the point where I wouldn't believe them if they said 9-11 was in September.

Will no one rid me of this meddlesome online encyclopedia?

(D'oh! Now I've gone and done it. I'm going to go have a cow.)

~ MSM
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Benazir Bhutto Under House Arrest

The state of emergency in Pakistan has deepened; the beleaguered government of General Pervez Musharraf has put its only credible opposition under house arrest. Naturally, it's said to be for her own protection; the stunning turnaround may be the nearest thing to a feminist utterance ever made by a Muslim government. I wonder when they start painting the target on her roof.

Let me be the first one to call "bullshit" on the misogynist dictator and his cabal of bullies.

[S O U R C E]

UPDATE: "The detention order has been withdrawn," said Aamir Ali Ahmed, Acting Deputy Commissioner of Islamabad today (November 9th - the day after the house arrest was ordered). You're welcome Mrs. Bhutto; anything else you need just let me know. You don't have to take that shit.
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One Wonders: Will ENDA be the End?

So my buddy, Joe Solomonese over at the Human Rights Campaign is telling me that I should feel happy today; that my rights as a gay man have been advanced. I have to disagree. Yesterday the House of Representatives has passed an Employment Non Discrimination Act that does not include transgender persons.

It's destined to fail in the Senate and Bush has said he will veto it if it makes it to his desk. So I have to ask myself: Was it was OK to offer the transgendered up on the altar of public condemnation? The answer, of course, is that it wasn't, and further, a steep price is going to be paid for this empty show of support.

I'm not worried for myself about the weakness of the bill. As a Washington resident, I already enjoy stronger protections than ENDA offers due to 20 years of work on the part of our local civil rights activists.

My mind wanders, however, to imaginary scenarios all over the US. Small towns, big towns, small companies and large, where transgender people are left wondering how they could have been left out in the cold. Still not good enough. Still not protected. I guess I'm too much of a feeler to experience any happiness when people with whom I have a connection are betrayed.

Is there some transgender teen in Boston standing on the railing of a bridge right now? Was this the last straw for someone in Iowa who has now utterly given up on ever living the life that their deepest inner self knows it the right one? My heart aches for the transgendered everywhere, but today especially for those in the US, who got a bucket of cold water poured down their spines yesterday.

Warning: pagan religious content - stop reading if your religious sensibilities are easily offended

Brìd, my Goddess, this is my blog-prayer today. You who stoke the forges in the hearts of stars where all stuff of planets and parliaments are first made; You who temper the connections between words to make them strong enough to hold the contents of our hearts and minds, hear me: Make your stars shine a little brighter for the transgendered today. Guard them from hurtful words and send them comfort. Lift up their hearts today, Brìd, and give strength to all who stand up for them.
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Recording Artist Sues Fans

A recording artist I am hesitant to name, since to use his name might mean infringing upon his precious copyright and therefore get sued, is suing some of his fan sites on the Internet for using his likeness, lyrics and such.

The artist - who is a short black man, fond of purple, and hails from Minneapolis - will therefore never be featured on the Pop Culture Institute in perpetuity. Since his given name is also a title frequently used by male royalty, I can only hope I won't be sued for using it in that context.

[S O U R C E]
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The Plaintive Plaintiff: Part Two

Court sucks. It's the worst place in the world. It's filled with cops and lawyers and criminals - three of my least favourite kinds of people. Throw in a couple of Bible-bashers and I think I would have grabbed a gun from one of the sheriffs and done myself in.

So, there's bad news and worse news. The bad news is that after waiting there for three hours, today's trial was adjourned - for the second time! The worse news is, now I have to go back there in six months to sit and wait and surround myself with cops and lawyers and criminals.

Always on the lookout for a silver lining: a) at least the process will be less scary next time, since today was the first time I've ever been inside a court house, b) there were a surprising number of hot guys there, even among the cops and lawyers and criminals, and c) I didn't get murdered or maimed.
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Vatican III: Cage Match

Saudi Arabia's King Abdullah and Pope Benedict XVI are meeting for the first time today to discuss matters of vital import to each party - like how to divvy up the entire world between their respective desert cults.

This should go well...

[S O U R C E]
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The Plaintive Plaintiff

With a flair for the dramatic that is my birthright as a first-class whoopsie, I am writing what may be my last blog post ever, since by this time tomorrow I may be dead or worse - horribly maimed.

But wait... I guess I should back up and tell the whole story.

On June 29th, 2006, I was out for a walk at about 7 in the evening, taking pictures of clouds (as I am wont to do). I was about halfway across the Granville Bridge on the west side of it when I heard someone yelling; looking around I saw a man running towards me from the south. As he approached I could hear him say that he wanted my camera, only not in such nice words.

When he was close enough to me to stop running he made several aggressive gestures, like he wanted to take my camera from me. Checking for traffic I made to cross the eight-lane bridge, assuming he wouldn't follow me. He did.

I was perched on the median waiting for a final car to pass when he struck me, knocking my glasses off. Having done that, he didn't try to take my camera, but crossed the road back to where he came from; rather than walking south along the bridge (where he'd come from) he continued walking north, into downtown.

I gathered up my glasses and my wits (in that order) and once I'd made it onto the east sidewalk followed him at a safe distance. I called 9-1-1 and was still talking to them seven minutes later when police intercepted him. Following an aggressive altercation with police he was finally taken down. I filed a police report and pressed charges, as I'd been brought up to do, still shaking from the shock.

The case was originally set to go to court on May 23rd of this year, but at the last minute was postponed; it was rescheduled for today, November 6th. So far I have received no 11th-hour reprieve which means that I, for the first time in my life, get to go to court tomorrow. I'm trying to keep a positive spin on it, for the sake of my sanity if nothing else, but with each passing minute the dread I feel grows. I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight.

Ever since that day I have lived in fear of this one. I'm afraid that somehow my address will be revealed, or that I'll be followed out of the courthouse and home either by him (if he's acquitted) or by his friends, and either assaulted or killed. After all, if a person is so psychotic that they'd assault a total stranger for taking pictures, there's no telling what he'd do to someone who sent him to jail. I have a restraining order, for what that's worth, but it only covers him and not his friends or family members.

In speaking with the office of the Attorney-General I tried to drop the charges, but wasn't allowed to. So now I guess I have to do what I have to do.

I only hope this is another case of my fondness for the worst-case scenario, compounded with considerable ignorance as to the workings of the judicial system, not to mention that flair for the dramatic I mentioned earlier. He has all the rights in this case, after all, and I have none.

With any luck, this won't be good-bye, then, but merely see you later.

~ MSM
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Ceuta, Melilla Royal Visit Invites Ire

For the first time in his 32-year reign, Spain's King Juan Carlos is visiting the last two remaining Spanish enclaves in Africa - the cities of Ceuta and Melilla. His visit is the first by a Spanish Head of State there in 80 years, although the Spanish Prime Minister visited last year.

His Majesty arrived in Ceuta today via helicopter, accompanied by Queen Sofia; the royal visit is expected to last two days, and will continue on to Melilla tomorrow. Flag-waving crowds numbering in the tens of thousands surrounded the royal couple upon their arrival, although there were about a thousand protestors as well.

The Moroccan government has already recalled its ambassador in protest, and convened a special session of its parliament to deal with the situation. Fortunately, Morocco enjoys good relations with the West, and says it will seek a diplomatic solution to the impasse.

Morocco has been agitating for the two cities to be returned to its sovereignty, a move opposed by the majority of their citizens (Ceutians? Melillites?); al-Qaeda has also targeted the two as areas which "must be reclaimed" for Islam, which probably accounts for the visit. The cities have been Spanish possessions for centuries, since long before Morocco even existed, and enjoy a privileged status they wouldn't have under Moroccan rule, namely EU membership.

Spain is among Morocco's biggest trading partners (after France), and there are half a million Moroccans living in Spain; so why in these troubled times the Zapatero government - a Socialist one at that - would want to risk the terror attacks and other reprisals that are sure to follow is anybody's guess. Perhaps to lure jihadists resident in Spain out of hiding?

[S O U R C E]
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Hollywood Writers On Strike; Hollywood Barely Notices

Now imagine if the special effects guys went on strike... There'd be chaos!

Yes, it seems that a threatened strike by the Writer's Guild of America has materialized, complete with the idiotic posturing and unbelievable give-and-take which is a staple of many of the cheesy screenplays by its members which now won't be getting made. It all boils down to a squabble over DVD royalties, which fat-cat producers and studio executives alike cling to like studio executives and fat-cat producers alike cling to their tiny silver spoons (whose contents, naturally, they pay for with all those clung-to royalties).

Still, for those of us in new media, this could be a boon. In fact, I am rushing my blog sitcom into pre-production from pre-pre-production where it's been languishing for months as I've struggled to keep up with a self-imposed editorial quota designed to ensure me no meaningful life away from this computer. Now that I have a show to write, star in, and film in addition posts to research, write, and publish I should be dead by spring.

The last writer's strike, some of you may remember, was at the turn of the century; it was marked by a rise in the proliferation of reality television like Survivor, for which those responsible should be shot at dawn. Make no mistake - reality television is written, it's just not scripted, and therein is a semantic hairsplitting worthy of Bill Clinton (depending, of course, on what your definition of "is" is).

Rest assured, at the Pop Culture Institute there will be no labour action; as these things go, you couldn't pick a better scab than me!

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Today's Sermon: Catholicism by Kathy Griffin

I can scarcely believe it myself, but this is the first time in almost 1700 posts that I have shown Kathy Griffin. You, dear reader, can rest assured that I have taken myself in hand and punished myself for this oversight.

Here then, appropriately enough for a Sunday, is one lapsed Catholic's take on the foibles of her co-religionists.
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Best Wishes Your Majesty & Your Royal Highness

Princess Galyani Vadhana, elder sister of Thailand's King Bhumibol Adulyadej (Rama IX) and one of that kingdom's greatest humanitarians, has been in Bangkok's Siriraj Hospital since June, where she is being treated for abdominal cancer and, more recently, a cerebral embolism.

The King himself has been a patient there since October 13th, having experienced weakness due to a blood flow disorder, the Royal Household Bureau has stated.

The King - who last year celebrated 60 years on the throne - is reportedly making progress in his recovery, as is the Princess. Since being in hospital both the King and the Princess have received throngs of well-wishers - between 4,000 and 5,000 per day are reportedly visiting the hospital - as well as letters from Elizabeth II, Japan's Emperor Akihito, and King Abdullah II of Jordan.

[S O U R C E]

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1666: A Year in Review

The year 1666 was supposed to be the year the Earth ended, seeing as the Mark of the Beast - 666 - is right there in it.

Instead, it was called the Annus Mirabilis, or Year of Miracles, by its contemporaries, the name also being the title of a poem by John Dryden which was published the following year. Despite the utter destruction of London (hot on the heels, as it were, of a terrible plague in 1665), the year was fairly peaceful for the times, with only minor skirmishes between the English and Dutch navies.

Not only did the burning of London reduce the severity of successive plagues (at least, bubonically speaking), it cleared the way for the rebuilding of the muddy, thatched hovels of the medieval City with many a Baroque splendour; furthermore, in Oxford and Cambridge, a flowering of scientific and mathematical knowledge poured forth. Many of Sir Isaac Newton's greatest discoveries date from this year, not to mention the foundation of Sweden's Lund University and the French Academy of Sciences.

Those who died that year include the Dutch landscape artist Frans Hals and the builder of the Taj Mahal Shah Jahan, who was buried in his splendid creation next to his beloved Mumtaz Mahal.
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Mini-Milestone: 1666

Coming, as this does, hot on the heels of yesterday's state of the blog address, the challenge is to say something here that won't duplicate what I said previously. Which should be easy enough to do, given that I always seem to have something to say, not to mention seeming to have an opinion on everything (which is a little trick I do with mirrors), and a horror of repeating myself. The real challenge today, though, is in saying anything at all because I'm so damn tired.

In honour of this mini-milestone, then, I closed the boring old poll, mainly because I finally thought of a replacement, which I'll leave up until it bores me or I think of yet another (or, miracle of miracles, someone out there suggests another one). Four people voted in the old one, and the winner was current events. So I'll be writing more current events which, in addition to the earlier suggestion of "more sex" oughta put me right out of my comfort zone where, ironically, I'm most comfortable.

A n y w a y... I've often spoken about how the intent of this blog has changed since I began it, but I've been more reticent when it comes to talking about how I've changed during the same period. Approaching 1700 blog posts (which, even if the average one consisted of 100 words, is, by my calculator, a shitload of words) I have suddenly come to realize that I am not the same person on this end of them that I was on the other. 170,000 words is 3-4 novels' worth; not, maybe, a huge achievement for Vikram Seth, but from my point of view I feel like Shakespeare.

Even though writing a blog is a different discipline than writing a novel the act of putting this many words in one place has had a transformative effect on me; I no longer feel like a failing novelist but a successful writer, publisher, and (in the last month) editor as well. The ensuing sense of confidence is beginning to spill over into the rest of my personality, which previously could not be described as confident even by an imagination greater than my own. More on that in the days and weeks ahead...

The Canada Council - in its wisdom - won't give a writer any grant until that writer has published three books (or the equivalent), an asinine rule if ever there was one, seemingly designed to support those writers whose work has already found its niche in the marketplace, while suppressing new work - in contravention of its own mandate. I've always said that I would never take a grant from the Canada Council, loath as I am to align myself with any elite; however, people change, and even though the Canada Council's politics and perspective are anathema to me, the idea of free money with which I might buy a laptop, travel to New York City - oh, and support the furtherance of Canadian culture and ideas, blah blah blah - is an appealing one.

The task ahead - now that I've written the equivalent of my first three books - is to begin the arduous process of applying for one of those elusive, lucrative grants which, once I'm awarded one, will free me up to take this bad boy to the next level: self-sufficiency. Not only do I want this blog to pay for me and the lavish lifestyle to which I intend to become accustomed, but for my contributors (present and future) and theirs as well.

The humanitarian aims I first stated on January 26th, 2006 - the day this blog was founded - remain in place; using pop culture as a lens with which all human endeavour can be observed, educating through entertainment (ie: Edutainment), and the bringing together of disaparate cultures in a defense against corporate globalization are and will always be the reasons why I sit in that chair every day and spool out the things I do.

Thanks again for reading,

MSM

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Burning Issue: Translink

Yet another Vancouver bus driver has been assaulted - this time by twin Santa Clauses!

A Translink driver working Hallowe'en night saw two girls dressed as Santa, so she pulled over to give them candy; for her trouble she was dragged off the bus and assaulted. Unable to continue, her passengers transferred to another bus. When the driver returned to her ride she found that it had been torched, with extensive damage to the driver's seat and dashboard area.

Total cost to repair the bus: $100,000.

Stories like this make me so mad I scarcely know what to say or do. I try always to be compassionate, but at the same time that well is almost always dry, while there's usually a fresh pile of ass kickings just a-piling up on my desk next to me. On second thought, I'd better move those.

Another problem exists in the media too; they'll report on this side of the story but there won't be any follow-up, which leaves people like me hanging. I want to know why they would do such things - even though at best I'm sure we'd get a sullen "I d'no" and a shrug from the teenagers in question. I want to know that these two bitches have to work two jobs for ten years just to pay the deductible for the damage they've caused. I want to know why they've been so badly parented that they could even conceive of such a thing. I need closure, dammnit!

Of course, there were no CCTV cameras near the incident, and since the assailants were in costume it isn't likely that they'll ever be caught; the only hope is that someone saw and has the guts to report them.

[S O U R C E]
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A State Of The Blog Address

It's official! October was the most productive month yet at the Pop Culture Institute. 247 posts easily beats the previous record held by March, in which I made 214; this puts my stated goal of attaining 2,008 posts by New Year's Day 2008 a likelihood.

It's also the month the royal we became a literal we as I welcomed a new contributor in Seumas Gagne, whose three posts alone have generated nearly as much traffic as my 244; there was a while there when, if one were to Google "Dumbledore Unrequited", his article came up first, which means Mr. Gagne is well-connected to the zeitgeist. It also means that I must be some kind of super genius for retaining him; once I figure out how to make this puppy pay for itself he will be making out like a bandit.

There is still much to do, which is always the way with me; never content to rest on my laurels (which, besides everything else, are pointy) I am always looking at new places to make improvements. The recently added ClustrMap (located to your right, beneath the links) came from Library Muscle Guy, and gives me something else to obsess over, so thanks for that Tank.

I have just about gotten over my lack of comments - mainly because I look at some of the comment threads at sites like Joe.My.God and think I wouldn't care to play host to the name calling and didacticism I see over there; and that's one of the good sites. I've stumbled across some blogs where the comment rolls qualify as hate crimes, and not just on YouTube either.

I have even gotten over the relatively low number of page hits we get, since I am able to see now that they are trending upwards in the preferred manner (ie: gradually). It looks like quite a few people subscribe to me via Google news reader (which blog friend Y|O|Y pointed out to me the other day - thanks for the heads up!). Viral marketing via HaloScan on several sites also appears to be generating results, as is a similar effort via YouTube.

Another suggestion from Y|O|Y is that I ramp up the sexual content to draw in readers; how exactly to increase sexual content when I am essentially a functional celibate eludes me. Plus there's the other matter of how to fit it in (!) which I will be discussing with my team over the next few weeks. Not to worry; I have a few ideas up my sleeve, and even more up my pant leg.

So now the thing that sticks in my craw is how to increase my authority at Technorati - it's been stuck at 7 since I joined, and there are no indications on their website (that I can find) how to increase it. Suggestions, anyone?
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QUEEN'S NEPHEW IN GAY SEX BLACKMAIL SHOCKER

The British media, bound as it is by some of the toughest anti-libel rules in all of the the civilized world, has been unable to print the name of the Queen's relative who has recently found himself being blackmailed; all they could say is that the victim is the Queen's relative and not someone on the Civil List.

Naturally, my hopes were pinned on the Earl of Wessex at first, on account of what a ponce he's always been. When I heard though, that the relative was close to the Queen but carried out no official duties I found myself with a real head-scratcher. The Queen's close family is vast, and since they're English they all seem a little bit gay.

So I pondered and I pondered and I pondered some more, and gotten all the way down Her Majesty's family tree as far as the Earl of Harewood, when I figured I'd better investigate further before I burst a blood vessel in my eye; after about three minutes I hit Google for the answer, and had my answer in three seconds.

Good old Google; it knows all, it tells all.

David Armstrong-Jones, the only son of Princess Margaret (now known as Viscount Linley), is the victim; since there's been no hint of a scandal - let alone no hint of gay - about him ever, this was quite a shock. More shocking still: the two blackmailers aren't some oiks from down the pub either, but described as socialites. Well, they're social climbers at least, which is near enough the same thing these days.

Now the fact that a British upper-class twit does cocaine ought to be no shock to anyone (and, since they've been educated at public school, neither should they be any strangers to man-on-man fellatio), but I'm having trouble integrating this knowledge. Admittedly, he is a furniture designer, which is more of a gray area than an outright gay area, but still...

I'm tempted to believe the story is false; whether or not it is, blackmail is a serious crime, and Ian Strachan and Sean McGuigan should consider themselves lucky their heads are not up on pikes outside the Tower of London today.

[S O U R C E]
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King Visits Queen

Saudi Arabia's King Abdullah was greeted by some of that famous British hospitality when he arrived in the UK Monday; he was jeered by crowds along the processional route, and many of those - including the leader and members of the Liberal-Democrats - invited to a banquet in his honour on Tuesday boycotted in protest. Given the appalling display of bad manners (and not just in this instance) it's no wonder Muslim countries are reticent when it comes to working with the West.

Admittedly, the chilly reception isn't surprising, considering the role his country is reputed to play in the training and finance of terrorism (and al-Qaeda in particular); additionally, Saudi Arabia has an appalling record on issues like human rights. Still, it's highly unlikely that any of that will be remedied by rudeness, either.

Fortunately, the 82 year-old sovereign has greeted far worse dictators far more graciously during her tenure in Buckingham Palace; Her Majesty's legendary aplomb was out in full force, as it was when she greeted the Nicolae Ceauşescu and his wife in June 1978.

"The relationship between our two kingdoms is one of mutual benefit, learning and understanding. So, King Abdullah, custodian of the two holy mosques, I warmly welcome you to this country," she said in a speech at the banquet.

While in London, King Abdullah will also be meeting with the Prince of Wales regarding The Prince's Trust and with Prime Minister Gordon Brown.

[S O U R C E]
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"It's Still Rock and Roll To Me" by Billy Joel

The crowd at GM Place Tuesday night spanned three generations - I saw kids under ten and a few my parent's age - and they filled nearly every seat; in the course of ninety minutes they went from sedate to screaming as Billy Joel and his band unrolled a string of hits spanning more than 20 years, from 1971's Cold Spring Harbour to 1993's River of Dreams.

Coming off a six-month break in the midst of a two-year world tour, there were few glitches (a couple of missed lighting cues) but otherwise much strong musicianship in the tight set. It being near Hallowe'en, Joel treated us to a few bars of Alfred Hitchcock's theme - Charles Gounod's Funeral March of a Marionette - and the first two verses of Monster Mash!

There was another a surprise number as well; in the midst of the concert Joel donned a guitar and announced that one of his long-time roadies was going to come out and perform a "sacred song". The apathy generated by that announcement was such that I think I even heard a few people boo. Then out walked a frankly scary looking gentleman - seriously, like an extra on The Sopranos - who proceeded to tear the roof down with a rousing rendition of AC/DC's Highway to Hell, to tumultuous applause and sustained audience participation.

A three-song encore closed the night; after the second - and my personal favourite, Only The Good Die Young - Joel made to leave the stage without playing the one we'd waited all evening to hear. As he stepped away from the piano the booing started; stepping toward to piano the cheering started, and on it went for about thirty seconds - back, boo, forth, cheer - until at last he sat down, donned his harmonica strap, and played that familiar opening refrain...

Singing along with a crowd of more than 20,000 to Piano Man I was struck by just why it is musicians put up with years of touring, lousy gigs, and disrupted family life; simply put, it's the adulation stupid. To sit onstage like that and hear a crowd that size singing your song back at you must be the greatest feeling there is for an artist.

Much thanks to my friend Leanne Padgett for the company, Orca Bay Entertainment for the venue, and Billy Joel for a lifetime of entertainment.
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5.6 Quake Rocks San Francisco

An earthquake rumbled through the San Francisco Bay area - including San Jose and Oakland - Tuesday evening at 8:04 PM local time; tremors could be felt as far away as Palo Alto.

The United States Geological Survey confirmed that the quake was located 5 miles northeast of San Francisco's Alum Bay neighbourhood, in the vicinity of South Bay, approximately 5.7 miles deep.

Although rated at 5.6 on the Richter Scale, it was enough to give people a fright; only minor damage is being reported, though, and so far there are no reported injuries or deaths.

[S O U R C E]
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"You're Only Human (Second Wind)" by Billy Joel

For a while after this video was released in 1986 it was a terrific solace to me. Those final years of high school really took their toll, and many were the times I wanted to find myself a bridge and be done with it. Fortunately, I was living in Saskatchewan at the time - the highest point in the province is about ten feet, so the worst I could have done was broken my legs.

Plus, the guy Billy Joel saves is hella cute... Come to think of it, that was around the time that it occurred to me if I were to kill myself I'd never get any more of that sweet, sweet eye candy. Hey, whatever works, I say.

You can bet that when this song comes up in his set list (did I mention I got free tickets to see Billy Joel at GM Place on Tuesday?) I'll be singing along.
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"We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel

This is easily the most pop culture of Billy Joel's videos, making it the ideal fit for inclusion here at the Pop Culture Institute.

Did I mention I got free tickets to see his concert tomorrow at GM Place in Vancouver? True, the seats are in the nosebleed section, but then it's not like he's John Mayer, so I don't need to see him.
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"Allentown" by Billy Joel

No it's not his birthday or anything; it's just that tomorrow I get to go see Billy Joel in concert at Vancouver's General Motors Place, and I'm starting to get psyched. Partly because I've never been to GM Place (hey, it's only been there 12 years), but mainly because I've always been a huge fan of Billy Joel.

A talented singer-songwriter and incisive social critic, he's also a homely guy who married a top model, which gives me yet another reason to admire him.
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Wow. Just Wow.

At the risk of driving lots of traffic to a site I find odious, I discovered this British site while commenting at Joe.My.God. and just had to share it with you.

Enter if you dare the dark heart of hatred, where no one knows the phrase "Judge not lest ye be judged" and "Love thy neighbour" just isn't gonna happen...

[S O U R C E]
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Nancy Cartwright on Australia's "Sunrise"

Birthday wishes to Nancy Cartwright - the voice of Bart Simpson, Nelson Muntz and Ralph Wiggum; watch as she cheerfully answers the same eight questions everyone asks her, only this time in Australian. Delight as the voices you've come to know and love emanate from a tiny blonde woman.

The Simpsons Movie has been announced for DVD release on December 18th, 2007*.

^{*This date is subject to change, and may not be released on this date where you are, so if it isn't don't have a cow, man!}
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Condi Admits Arar Foul-Up

US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice (shown here demonstrating how far the Bush Administration will go to protect civil liberties) has admitted that the United States government mishandled the case of Canadian Maher Arar.

For those not familiar with the case, Arar was detained by US officials on September 26th, 2002, and interrogated about his alleged links to al-Qaeda while in transit through New York's JFK airport when returning home to Montreal from a family vacation in Tunisia. While in US custody he was repeatedly refused access to counsel; he was also refused his right to choose his country of removal, as guaranteed to him under international law. Twelve days later, on October 7th, he was chained, shackled and flown to Syria, where he was held in a tiny "grave-like" cell for ten months and ten days and tortured into making a false confession before he was finally moved to a better cell in a different prison before finally being returned to Canada.

Both the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the FBI knew he was not a terrorist, yet sent him to Syria knowing he would be tortured, possibly hoping he would be killed. Though he has been cleared of all charges by the governments of Canada and Syria, this is the first indication from the US government that their handling of him was a mistake.

All I can think is, the Republicans must be getting desperate to win the next election; unsure how to beat a Clinton-Obama ticket, it looks like their new-and-improved "Kinder, Gentler" pet Condi could kill two tokens with one stone.

[S O U R C E]
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Feeling Like Death: A Case of Serendipity

Warning to Mr. Gagne:
This Post Contains Grossness.
Do Not Read Further.
You Have Been Warned.

Well, I don't know what I did, but today I feel like death. I'd say I was sick as a dog, except that I've never seen a dog as sick as me. Most dogs, when they're sick, mope around a bit, barf a couple of times, and soon they're right back at it humping things, wagging their tails, and generally being adorable.

Well, I don't need to barf, even though the stomach ailment I've come to call Bloatbelly is at it again, and I am keenly watching the toilet bowl for traces of blood, internal organs, or alien fetus - anything that might explain how I could feel like crap when I clearly have none left.

Normally I wouldn't be so blunt, except that I know no one is reading but Mr. Gagne. My regular readership has dwindled from a staggering all-time high of four to just one, which is the only other thing bothering me at the moment. Plagued as I am with self-doubt, I've put all my eggs in one basket self-esteem-wise and again come up empty. I might as well go back to Internet dating and operating the name-calling booth at the local bear bar.

Still, I persist... Why? Why not?

Even though I have next to no readers, I realize that my subject matter is pretty wide-ranging. I do occasionally still get strangers wandering in and reading a page or two, amounting to a few minutes each. I enjoy playing Social Studies by tracking their stats and seeing which posts get the most hits and planning future posts from that. I even enjoyed that time last week when for four days my blog had been flagged as inappropriate (likely due to the presence of a post about Kristen Bjorn, the gay porn king).

I look at it the way those World of Warcraft addicts must view their pastime - as a kind of vast video game. This is World of Blogcraft. I'm always checking out other blogs for ideas, and blogs about blogging for new ways to entice readers, breaking whatever rules I can (like writing posts about blogging, for instance), and otherwise enjoying the therapeutic benefits of confessing my innermost thoughts to the entire world, or at least those four or five a day who might stumble across what I'm doing.

How appropriate, also, that on the day I feel most like Death there are not one, not two, but seven notable historical deaths to choose from to report today, ranging from a Queen consort of England to an American gangster, a World War II traitor to a famed astronomer, a suave leading man and two civil rights pioneers. Among the birthdays there are an actor, a fashion designer, and a famed G-man.

All in all, just another day as usual here at the Pop Culture Institute.
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One Wonders: Dumbledore's Unrequited Love

Last Friday evening - October 19th - while appearing at Carnegie Hall, J. K. Rowling, the super-wealthy authoress of the Harry Potter series, revealed to audience members that Albus Dumbledore, the beloved headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was, in fact, gay. Fans also learned that he had had an unrequited love for one of the series' bad guys, Gellert Grindelwald, which was, in Rowling's words "his great tragedy."

While right-wing Christians are flipping out about the likelihood of literature transforming kids not only into witches, but gay witches - if only it were that easy - and certain gay rights activists are criticizing Rowling for not outing Dumbledore sooner, I would like to ask a different question:

As the Potter story has unfolded, we have seen Albus Dumbledore unfold from a kindly figure of authority to a person of truly saintly stature. Was it his unrequited love, or more specifically, recovery from that experience which led him to develop such strong, almost unassailable character?

Like most of us, I have experienced the torture of unrequited love. I met my first love when I was 9 and he was 10; I came out to him at 16 and he didn't return the favor. Instead, he remained in the closet until well into his 20s.

I chart my own journey of self-actualization to that one lightning bolt moment when I realized that much of my character developed in reaction to this all-consuming love for someone who didn't love me back. At the moment I started loving myself all the old pain went away. After all, if I loved myself, how could I resent the forces that shaped me?

I'm still far from being a saint, but I do love myself at last. I also realize how much more I could have accomplished in my first 30 years if I had loved myself all along.

Anyone else had any experiences parallel or contrary?

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RIP Joey Bishop

We all knew it would happen one day; that day is here...

The final member of the Rat Pack is gone to that great Nightclub in the Sky, where the drinks aren't watered, the broads are all game, and every night is opening night.

Joey Bishop wasn't the best-known member of the Rat Pack, especially not these days - Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. all beat him out on that account - but he was at least tied with Peter Lawford for the least known, and where Lawford was just an actor, Bishop was an all-around entertainer. He also gave Regis Philbin his big break, just FYI.

Joey Bishop died at his home in Newport Beach, California; he was 89.

[S O U R C E]
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Rick Mercer Visits 24 Sussex Drive

Although I cannot whole-heartedly support any attempt to make Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper seem human, I must admit that as the leader of a minority government he's certainly learned how to play nice.

Here he shows birthday boy Rick Mercer just how he handles the press...
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Carson-Era Comedy: Larry Miller

Ah... Those were the days. It used to be an illicit treat to stay up and watch The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson, which I did faithfully throughout the last three years of high school.

Carson's commitment to providing exposure to the best stand-up talent in the country has made stars of men like Larry Miller, who's forged himself quite a tidy little career in the movies, often playing cranky or embittered men who wield their smidgen of power like a weapon of mass destruction.
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YouTube Hat Trick: "Lady Bump" by Kath & Kim

Australian culture at its foinest. Too right!
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1510: A Year in Review

The year 1510 was the most boring year in history, pop culture-wise.

Nothing happened, a bunch of people nobody ever heard of were born, and the only event of note is the death of the painter Sandro Botticelli.

Until I tagged it, the year 1510 never featured once in approximately 287 POPnews posts, so you know what a dull year that was. True, England was basking in the glow of its young King, the "fairest Prince in Christendom" as the then 19 year-old Henry VIII was known before syphilis and carbs got the better of him.

Sheesh...
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Mini-Milestone: 1510

When I was just starting out these milestone posts were like the finish lines in a race; I'd set one for myself up ahead, then reward myself for getting there. Truth be told, having run and won many such races now, I'm almost glad to be done with them.

The main problem is what to say. Not that I'm ever at much of a loss for words, but the last thing I want to do is fish for compliments, and the usual task to be accomplished in the earlier milestone posts was to tease any potential readers into either staying tuned for further developments or else to leave a three word comment by way of congratulations.

Well, my regular readers still number fewer than 10, and they're well aware of what's in store by now, and if I get ten comments a week it's a miracle (not that I don't crave each and every one of them).

Well, there are just a few milestones left now. The next four mini-milestones will come at numbers 1666, 1777, 1888, and 1969; the next major milestones are New Year's Day (number 2008) and January 26th (my second anniversary). Thereafter, they'll come at successive thousand marks, each January 26th, and whenever else it seems like a good idea (10,000 hits on the counter, for instance).

1666, 1777, and 1888 are just interesting years, numerically; I would have done 1999 too, but coming as it does just a day or two before The Big One I thought instead I'd use the year I was born. Plus, it'll be a good warm up for 2009, when I celebrate turning 40 with a year-long series of specially themed posts from that pivotal year in pop culture and history.

Because yes, I am planning that far ahead already. As you may have guessed by now, I am in this for the long haul.

One important thing to note: since the last mini-milestone - all the way back at #1357, as long ago as September 25th - the Pop Culture Institute has gained its first correspondent: Seumas Gagne. Thanks again for signing on Mr. Gagne; we all look forward to hearing from you next.

Also of note: I got a hit and a page view from Iran (including 2:24 of reading) which, when I first saw it, gave me a bit of a cold chill all over; then, just a couple of days later, someone at Orca Bay (the company that owns the Vancouver Canucks) looked at 12 of my pages over a period of one hour forty-eight minutes, which is my longest visit to date. In both cases, thank you for that.
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Kristen Bjorn: The Merchant of Penis

Amazingly, gay porn auteur Kristen Bjorn (born this day as Robert Russell in London) turns 50 today.

For many - myself included - Bjorn's works are considered the gold standard of their type, featuring exotic locales and hot, healthy looking men, so unlike the California porn of 'roid queens and meth addicts.

The famously elusive Bjorn began his career as a model, before realizing the real money was in production. Over the past twenty years he's made 34 full-length all-male features in such places as Brazil, the Dominican Republic, and Hungary. One of them, 1992's Montreal Men, features an appearance by none other than erstwhile Marine and Conservative lapdog Matt Sanchez.

Check out the Kristen Bjorn website for all the latest...
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One Wonders: Was San Marino Founded By Gays?

Reading POPnews certainly can take a person down some interesting roads, can't it?

I was just doing some catching up after a busy weekend of teaching Anglicans to drink to excess, sing boisterously, and dance, when I read the blurb on POPnews for October 8th about the adoption of the constitution of San Marino in 1600. Having never heard of the country, I hopped over to Wikipedia using the link thoughtfully provided by the Boss.

Among other interesting facts and figures, I noted that the country was founded by Marinus of Rab and his "lifelong friend," Leo. Hmmm. If I read that in today's paper, I would see it as a code word for same-sex partner.

Wouldn't it be fun to discover that there was a country with great scenery, democracy, awesome wine and cheese, adorable military uniforms, where the head of state is a duo referred to as the Captains Regent, that had been founded by…oh. Oh my. That does seem to add up, doesn't it?

Anyone else think that maybe Marinus and Leo were more than friends? Anyone from San Marino care to confirm or complain?

^{A couple of other things of note: Marinus and Leo founded San Marino to escape persecution from the Church, and once they had done they lived the life of hermits. I think both impulses are understandable, homosexually speaking. ~ The "Boss"}
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Life In The Bigotsphere

For years bigots of every kind were able to hide behind stoic expressions and dead eyes, unless induced to reveal their true feelings either by journalistic bullying or the quick, easy cash provided by The Jerry Springer Show. This may have created the false impression through the 80s and 90s that society had, at long last, transcended all the worst of its isms: racism.

Then along came the Internet, a seemingly anonymous playground where those poor bigots could let their lies out to, well there's no other way to put it, play. One minute, the world is a utopian place free from prejudice the next minute it's boiling over with hatred. What to do, what to do...

I know, blame the Internet!

Even a reactionary like me can see the inherent specious reasoning in this line of "logic". In a world devoid of personal responsibility, blaming the Internet for bigotry is like blaming their robes for the actions of the Ku Klux Klan, or Auschwitz for the Holocaust. The Internet is merely a tool employed by bigots - as it can and must be employed by the enlightened as a bulwark against intolerance. After all, you don't ban lighters because they're used to light crosses.

Emotions run high where bigotry is concerned, as they should; when it comes to discrimination, apathy is no one's friend. It takes no more than an eyebrow raised at the wrong time to make me scream homophobia, because I know that particular ism has nowadays become so sly as to appear invisible. While this kind of stance runs the risk of alienating more people than it attracts, I'm willing to take that risk. Having been treated savagely every day of my life since the first day of fourth grade - usually by strangers who dress their hypocrisy in cleric's robes or lab coats - I have had enough.

Because of this, I think I understand what the Jena 6 are going through, as well as the young men in Virginia. Obviously raised in a culture of vengeance, suffering from the hopelessness that often attends oppression, it's easy to take your feelings out on the wrong person. Rather than transcending the violence visited upon them they descend to the level of their attackers. The bullied inevitably become bullies, which may in fact be what happened to the white teenagers who would dare imply lynching at the site of their schoolyard hangout.

The place where bigotry flowers most freely these days is in the comments section of innumerable blogs as well as on YouTube. Yet in the interest of free speech and open debate, I'd rather it was expressed there than left to fester inside the heads of those whose ignorance seems otherwise impenetrable. If leaving a few loathsome words in the comments section of someone's blog delays (or even replaces) a physical attack, that is what I call progress.

Agonizingly slow, subject to far too many setbacks, often tenuous - but progress nonetheless.
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"Jena" by John Mellencamp

John Mellencamp has waded into the most loathsome case of racial discrimination since... Well, since the last one, frankly. Not exactly the best way to spend your birthday; unless, like Mellencamp, you are a gifted songwriter and passionate activist.

On the bright side, the mayor of Jena, Louisiana, has condemned the song, which means Mellencamp must be on to something. Whatever your views on the Jena 6, it was white students who hung those nooses.

Now word has come of another wilding, in which six or seven black teenagers beat a 13-year-old white boy without provocation, this time in Norfolk, Virginia. That beating, unlike the one thought to be retaliation for the Jena nooses, was caught on video; the person doing the taping, rather than helping the victim, can be heard to laugh at his misfortune throughout, which points to a promising career as a paparazzo.

Isn't it time we stopped thinking about things in terms of "race" but rather in terms of "species", or has the human species made that impossible for itself with all this nonsense talk about race?
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NC Newspaper Outs 40 Men, Kills 1

In a sad - if predictable - turn of events, one of the 40 men arrested and charged with indecent exposure and disorderly conduct in a Johnson (ahem) City, Tennessee, park has already committed suicide. Jerry McCloud, 55, dealt with the shame of having his closet door blown off by the police and the press by blowing his own head off at home.

With any luck, and maybe a little prompting, LGBT rights activists in the US will gain perspective from this tragedy and use it to get focus back on ENDA (trans inclusive version) if that's still possible.

[SOURCE]
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A Happy Day

Well, as the headline states, it is indeed a happy day here at the Pop Culture Institute, as today marks the debut of our newest staff member, Seumas Gagne.

Seumas is already well-known for the level of commentary he provides which, during some pretty dark days, was all that kept this enterprise afloat. Additionally, he's provided me with oodles of moral support through the years.

Seumas will be writing - well, whatever he wants, frankly. However, his strengths lie with current events and since I am bogging down in writing historically based posts at the moment his presence here is bound to lend some balance to the proceedings.
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Majority Of Monarchs Favour Dropping Canada

Word from Buckingham Palace this morning that when news of a recent poll showing that 53% of Canadians favour dropping the monarchy was revealed to the Queen of Canada she called up her new buddy George.

Here now is the transcript of that conversation.


(sound of telephone ringing)

W: Yup.

ER II: Oh, hullo George.

W: Hey, Queenie! How's it hanging?

ER II: We don't do that here George; here we make people go on Big Brother until they die of humiliation.

W: Oh yeah, I forgot. Hey, by the way, sorry again for ripping up your roses when we visited...

ER II: We planted new ones, and they're beautiful.

W: ...and ripping up the rugs, drilling through your walls, oh, and punching the hole in that painting...

ER II: Rugs can be repaired, holes can be filled, and it turns out the painting wasn't a Rubens at all, which we would never have known if your Secret Service hadn't been playing baseball indoors.

W: ...and that slip about your age when you were here?

ER II: Oh, I've forgotten all about that. Besides, today I feel nearly three hundred years old.

W: Problems, Queenie?

ER II: (sigh) Yes. I'm afraid Canada doesn't want me anymore.

W: You mean...?

ER II: Yes George.

W: Cool! Now I get to try out the new Invade-a-tron 3000 the Pentagon developed.

ER II: Happy Christmas, George.
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Spice Girls Tickets Sell Out In 38 Seconds

Which is nine seconds faster than Posh, Baby, Scary, Ginger and Sporty themselves sold out when they formed the group.



20,000 tickets went on sale for their single London show December 15th at the O2 Arena in Greenwich and were snapped up faster than you can say "zig-ah zig-ah". Not bad for singers who don't write lyrics or play instruments and yet somehow also employ back-up singers.

Their "Mutton Dressed As Lamb" Tour is expected to be the most talked-about event of the year on blogs that aren't this one.

[S O U R C E]
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Majority Of Canadians Favour Dropping Monarchy

Which is fine, since I'm most comfortable as a minority anyway.

The real problem, of course, is that most Canadians have no sense of their history or place in the world. This is a matter of rapidly diminishing importance to me, as if I have anything to do with it, I will be living the second half of my life in the UK anyway.

[S O U R C E]
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Big News Day

At the risk of prejudicing the poll results at right, I think my personal favourite posts are POPnews. I like them because they contain a lot of information, and since the way I've designed them they're meant to anchor each day's posts, their very cruciality demands my admiration. To my mind they're so important that even on days when I post nothing else, I post POPnews, even if I must eschew sleep, nourishment, or common sense to do so.

In many ways, POPnews is what this blog is all about; a distillation of the bewildering amount of information available on the Internet into a refreshing, intoxicating cocktail of history, culture, and humanity. Social studies on steroids I like to call it, although Mr. Gagne's term is understandably both pithier and wittier; he calls it oldscasting.

Obviously, if one is going to attempt to dominate media, one needs a news department; not even Rupert Murdoch has been able to entirely do away with the news, although he has managed to adulterate it to such an extent as to render it simultaneously omnipresent and ineffective. However, as our staff consists of me either creating or compiling it all, and now Mr. Gagne as the new Chief of Commentary (aka Head Cheerleader), I have to do what's likely to keep my inner magpie engaged. Seeing as how I have always felt a long view gives the best perspective, I have decided to view the news through an historical lens.

I prefer to have seven items in each post, but anywhere between five and nine is tolerable. Nothing ruins my day like when I have to post three - in other words, a slow news day. (And yes, I'm afraid I am slightly precious when it comes to the odd numbers.) Today, though, I have the other problem.

Try as I might, having completed my preliminary research, I've been unable to whittle POPnews for October 1st down to less than 21 entries. Even if a couple of them are wrong (which often happens, as my principal source is Wikipedia, which has more conflicts than Central Africa) and I'm able to move a couple of them off as videos, this will still represent the longest POPnews ever, the previous record-holder being 13.

However painful, though, growth is good. So, having procrastinated enough with the writing of this essay, it's time to get to it.

Enjoy!
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"Changes" by David Bowie

And so, as a suitable accompaniment to the previous post, it's David Bowie performing Changes, as introduced by Ellen DeGeneres.
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Ch-ch-ch-changes...

A change is as good as a rest, or so they say, which makes all of this a bit overdue, as I am well exhausted. Fortunately, though, it's a good exhausted; the kind of exhausted that comes from countless hours of doing what I love.

Yes, the ongoing evolution of the Pop Culture Institute proceeds apace.

Some of you regular readers will notice that I've added a poll to the top of the page, so please feel free to vote early and vote often, and thanks to Y | O | Y for putting me onto Pollcode.com as well.

I've also added a new team member in Seumas Gagne, a frequent commenter and sounding board, as part of what I refer to as my brain trust. Over time I hope that Mr. Gagne and I will be joined here by Mr. Barr and Mr. Davey as part of my diabolical scheme to eventually conquer all media.

Introduction of a flesh-and-blood colleague lends itself to the introduction of felt-and-foam colleagues, and the much-vaunted appearance here (and on YouTube) of the Poppets has entered an exciting new phase. Mark 3 - in other words the third version of the prototype - is awaiting its facial features as we speak, putting its first appearance in these pages less than a month away now.

All of which makes for the kind of heady times I'll look back on in my old age (next year) with fond remembrance.

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RIP Lois Maxwell

Lois Maxwell, Canada's pride and the inhabitor of Miss Moneypenny, died Saturday at Fremantle Hospital in Perth, Australia. She was 80.

Throughout fourteen films Moneypenny was the smart, beautiful secretary of James Bond, and seemingly the one woman he couldn't conquer, which I always liked because, well, Bond was a bit big-headed so he kind of had a comeuppance coming to him.

She was also stronger than I; if the 1960s version of Connery so much as smiled at me I think I'd have a fatal aneurysm. I shudder to think what their sexy banter would have done, as merely watching it is enough to make me all squelchy inside, even when viewed at a remove of four decades.
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"Tango Shoes" by Bif Naked

I liked Bif Naked even before I met her; a talented singer-songwriter and an energetic, charismatic performer, the former Beth Torbert is not just beloved in the Canadian music industry but worldwide. No doubt admiration for her extends to the animal kingdom as well, since she is an outspoken (though not especially militant) vegan.

Lately, though, I have yet another reason to admire her.

The two previous posts I've made about Bif Naked (one on the occasion of her birthday and another at the recent announcement of her then-impending nuptials) are responsible for about half of the traffic to my site this week, which (to be entirely honest) is partly the reason this one is here. It would be one thing if those hits were coming just from Vancouver or even Canada, but they're from Japan, Australia, and Finland as well.

On Saturday, September 29th, Bif Naked married sports-writer Ian Walker in Vancouver, and as such drove my traffic stats through the roof. This makes me feel bad, as she's the one who got married but I'm the one who got the gift.

I think I speak for people around the world - not to mention pigs and cows and chickens - when I say: congratulations Bif and Ian.
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Jenna Bush's Book Tour Underway

Oh well, better "Jenna Bush's Book Tour" than "Jenna Book's Bush Tour"... (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

I only hope that when she swings into Washington she takes the time to help her father sound out the really big words. I understand her novel is written at a young adult level, and while the President's come along way singe he finished My Pet Goat (last year), he could still have trouble with those three- and four-syllable monstrosities. Mon-straw-sit-tease...

At least we know which side of the family she takes after.

Congratulations to the First Lady and her iron-clad DNA.
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A La Recherche Du Blog Perdu

Among the worst things that can happen to a writer is the sudden, unexplained loss of work. Whether the piece in question was the result of serious mental labour or a burst of inspiration, the sickening feeling that accompanies the first few moments when it is found missing have been among the worst moments of my career, if not life. Losing work makes creating subsequent work all the more difficult; after all, what is the point of continuing if, through no fault of one's own, it might all be for naught?

Then again, I've always majored in drama-queen with a minor in defeatist.

It's happened to me any number of times, and each time it's as if a child of mine was abducted, and the body never found. Once I left a complete short story in the back of a cab; another time my grandmother cleaned my room, and took away a chapter of a novel by mistake, buried in some pseudo-archaeological mess of my own devising. Recently, I have lost five chapters of a novel; although fortunately I have a hard copy of it somewhere, the original file is not to be found within my documents folder, and I never would have deleted it, because frankly it's brilliant.

More often than not, in these cases, the abductor has been a computer; it happened to me - again - this afternoon.

This piece, you see, is haunted by the that which came before it.

I'd published a post called Remembering... Pierre Elliott Trudeau on this, the anniversary of his death, and gone back to add a link to it that I'd previously missed. I added the link, then in switching between the Edit window and the Compose window it was gone: a YouTube link and three elegant paragraphs, cast down the cyber bunny hole. Despite not saving the changes, when I hit the back button to get me back to the top, all was lost.

I suppose it does serve a purpose; if nothing else, it makes me extra careful subsequently. I will probably save each blog post I write on the clipboard for the rest of the year now, forcing myself to go to an extreme that I shouldn't have to, all because of the savage whims of a heartless machine.

I never try to recreate these lost writings, but instead have learned to let them go. In my spiritual tradition, any willing sacrifice is repaid threefold, and so despite my utter rage (born of frustration) I make myself let it go, secure in the knowledge that in some way it will return.

I suppose losing the piece was the cosmic way of reminding me to leave well enough alone. Had I not bothered to add that extra link, the piece wouldn't have been lost. It could also be the universe's way of reminding me that the computer I occasionally blog on during my breaks at work (a PC running Internet Explorer) is a Gatesian shitbox that's better for little else besides data entry and the absorption of verbal abuse.

Whatever the reasons for taking it, it's well-and-truly gone. Sentiment is a virus I can't seem to shake; events like this one, though, represent the best cure.
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Now Showing: "America" from "West Side Story"

In honour of the 50th anniversary of the show's opening on Broadway, my favourite number from it, starring the incomparable Rita Moreno, who won herself an Academy Award for her electrifying performance.
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1357: A Year in Review

The Middle Ages - for all their wars, famines, and pestilence - must have been a pretty relaxing time to live. For one thing, there were no agonizing choices regarding what to do for a living; you just do what your parents did. If you didn't like that men could choose the Army or the Church, and women could choose prostitution, or the Church. In either case, there was a third option which combined a little bit of both.

For all the tyranny inherent in the era, at least there was no neurosis. There are days when I feel like I'd gladly swap a bit of one for the other. The first "modern" neurotic as such was probably Erasmus, who was able to look at human life without the certitude of religion and then worry because such a question is unanswerable. He's the one who wrecked it for the rest of us.

The most frustrating thing about the Middle Ages is looking at them in retrospect. For a historian there are so many gaps that we will likely never have a clear picture of the times, let alone the people who made them. Some people might find that a challenge, but it just pisses me off. Someone should have been taking better notes.

Fortunately, for the purposes of this post, there are a few more events from 1357 to report than there were for the dread years of 1111, 1153, or 1234. The next one - 1510 - is even busier still, proof that history is speeding up, or at least becoming more crowded.

For instance, 1357 is when influenza was first recognized as a disease. Although its symptoms were first recorded by Hippocrates prior to 370 BCE, the Church would have been instrumental in wiping clean the discoveries of that evil pagan; tens of millions of people coughing themselves to death was too good for their business.

1357 is also the first recorded showing of the Shroud of Turin, which must be close to when it was manufactured; it would be more than 600 years before it occurred to someone to screen print it on a bath towel.

It's also the same year work began on the Charles Bridge in Prague; the fact that the bridge is still standing must serve as some kind of testament to its builders. The previous bridge on the same site - the Judith Bridge - was built in 1170 and swept away by a flood in 1342.

And finally, 1357 was the year King David II of Scotland was finally ransomed, and returned from nine years' captivity in England. Of course, the comic potential of such an event are obvious; I scarcely need to make a joke about how cheap the Scottish are, especially since Mr. Gagne will hurt me if I do, and there's no part of me I'd care to have a harp up-shoved.
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Mini-Milestone: 1357 Posts And Counting...

Yes, it's milestone time again folks.

Not that I have anything new to add on that front. Regular readers will notice that the posts just keep coming on coming, and as to the lack of comments, well... Silence implies consent.

As per usual, if it occurs to anyone reading this to make a suggestion, please do.

Likewise, if you are some kind of sadistic grammarian and feel like savaging me, by all means do. To reiterate, I am a masochist and a comment whore, so our relationship will be remarkably complementary.

I believe it's what's called quid pro queer.
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Books Wormed: "The Architects Are Here" by Michael Winter

It's true what they say about critics; that in them burns a jealous fire and, frustrated by their own shortcomings, they tear down their more accomplished brethren to make themselves feel better. Consider, though, cause and effect.

As a writer I feel relatively accomplished, at least literarily. Clearly I know how to put a sentence together. I pride myself on spelling and punctuation (although I realize I am a little overly fond of the semi-colon). I do not believe in competition as an artist, but cooperation.

Yet reading Michael Winter puts me into a frenzy of envy, which is where I am when sitting down to write - what else? - this review. If only he wasn't so good, I wouldn't have to covet his talent.

When reading This All Happened I would sneeringly refer to it as What Just Happened; I still have to force myself not to call The Big Why by my own pet name, The Big What. I now have an addition to that list: The Adjectives Are Here. The reason for this, aside from my own snide nature? Jealousy.

Not only is he handsome, he's probably tall and lean and has one of those voices that could smoke bacon. All that PLUS he can write. His very existence makes me feel like an illiterate goblin. In fact, I may have to write a second review on the other side, at Self-Loathario, just to deal with it.

Winter's new tour-de-force novel The Architects Are Here fleshes out the trademark sparsity of his earlier works just enough to render his extraordinary voice the stuff of legends. The continuing story of his alter-ego Gabriel English, the novel is actually three books in one. The first part reads like a standard coming-of-age story, albeit more poetically rendered than the standard issue dreck typically churned out by BFA programs across the country. The second part is a combination picaresque/road-trip, again, re-invented with such flair as to be an entirely new genre as opposed to a retread of an existing one. The third is a coming home story mixed with elements of thriller, which ties the previous two portions together in an ending which should be too pat to be successful, yet is as satisfying as anything I've read this year.

On their own, each part would be an exemplary work, especially for those (like me) who enjoy the opportunity to luxuriate in some truly excellent diction. Although I don't always understand what motivates his characters (because I'm not deep enough), he clearly does (because he is). This is such a serious work, they really should never have sold it to anyone as frivolous as me.

Then again I am a rococo writer, whereas Michael Winter is a superlative minimalist. If his previous books were rooms, they would drive me to wallpaper. Walking into The Architects Are Here and looking around, I wouldn't change a thing.
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In Theatres November 2nd

UH. MUH. GUH.

...uh... Do you suppose it's too early to go and get in line?
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Canadian, US Dollars Now At Par

Five years ago, the Canadian dollar was at an all-time low, just below 62 cents US; today, for the first time since 1976, the Canadian and US dollars are at par.

Why this is or what it means I really can't tell you. I'm not an economist, and there are clearly forces at work which are well beyond my understanding. I'm not averse to learning, you understand, it's just that whoever explains it to me has to speak really slowly and spell out the big words.

But on a personal note, it means my American friends can no longer come up here and lord it around like the princes they are, and therefore this turn of events upsets me. Gone are the feasts of sushi and nights at the cineplex, the surprise gifts and all the other perks that come with having high-rollers for friends.

On the other hand, it may be time to take some of my sturdy Canadian dollars south and turn the tables on them. In which case the Canadian dollar had better surpass the American one and stay like that for five years at least.

(I didn't mean it Mr. Gagne - I was only joking. Someone call a paramedic!)
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"Any Idea Why You Lost, M. Dion?"

^{[Liberal leader Stephane Dion offering both a Gallic
and galling reason for the party's poor performance
in Monday's Quebec by-elections.]}
* * *
The Liberal Party, Canada's natural governing party and best line of defense against Tory fascism, is failing and failing fast. An election is imminent, and it looks as if the Conservative minority will become a Conservative majority thanks to personality-free Liberal leader Stephane Dion.

The loss of the Outremont riding in Montreal is yet another blow to the embattled Liberal Party - one that could have been avoided had the Liberals chosen a leader with charisma instead of the one they did. Hell, they could have chosen Celine Dion and done better - even if in Quebec she's known as "Sell-out" Dion.

The Tory win in Roberval over the Bloc Quebecois, an unheard-of NDP win in Outremont, and a Bloc Quebecois win in Saint-Hyacinthe-Bagot (in which the Liberals came fourth of four) puts the current game of Parliamentary Chess dangerously close to checkmate.

An election is likely before the end of the year.
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