Wednesday, September 26, 2007
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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Tuesday, September 25, 2007
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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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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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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Sunday, September 23, 2007
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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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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Saturday, September 22, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
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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Monday, September 17, 2007
RIP: Brett Somers
I must confess that all I know about Brett Somers I learned from watching Match Game.
If all she'd ever done was Match Game hers would still be a pivotal career; bantering with Charles Nelson Reilly like she did through nine seasons must have enervated untold numbers of young homos to consider repartee as a permanent avocation.
But Somers was smart (she ran away to New York at 17) and she was talented (her resume is impressive) and we've already established she was funny. But I never knew she was married to Jack Klugman, nor that she played Siress Belloby on the original Battlestar Galactica.
Somers died Saturday of cancer, aged 83.
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If all she'd ever done was Match Game hers would still be a pivotal career; bantering with Charles Nelson Reilly like she did through nine seasons must have enervated untold numbers of young homos to consider repartee as a permanent avocation.But Somers was smart (she ran away to New York at 17) and she was talented (her resume is impressive) and we've already established she was funny. But I never knew she was married to Jack Klugman, nor that she played Siress Belloby on the original Battlestar Galactica.
Somers died Saturday of cancer, aged 83.
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Thursday, September 13, 2007
Pangea Day - Get Involved!
A Who's Who of hipster dignitaries is trying to bring the world together through the almost-universal medium of film.
They've already designated May 10th, 2008, as Pangea Day, when...
Well, why should I tell you when you can check it out for yourself?
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New Discovery Gives Stem Cell Research Teeth
Finally a scientific discovery I can get behind. Some day - as soon as five years from now - it may be possible to grow new teeth from stem cells. I know it's true because I read it in The Province, even though I can't seem to find any account of it online.
Which means I only have to keep the teeth I have until I've managed to raise the small fortune it's likely to cost to replace them. At least in that eventuality when I smile it won't look like I have a toilet in my mouth, like so many of the ceramic smiles I see on Hollywood stars and the like.
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Which means I only have to keep the teeth I have until I've managed to raise the small fortune it's likely to cost to replace them. At least in that eventuality when I smile it won't look like I have a toilet in my mouth, like so many of the ceramic smiles I see on Hollywood stars and the like.
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Madge Miffs Mullahs
A couple of weeks ago I found this great picture of Madonna online; I liked it so much I couldn't wait for her to hit the news again so I could use it. Then she decided to do one her occasional disappearances (I suppose she has to work sometime) and there it sat.
Well, today I really hit the jackpot. Or should I say crackpot?
Muhammad Abdel-Al of the Palestinian terrorist group the Popular Resistance Committees has been quoted as saying: "If I meet these whores I will have the honor--I repeat, I will have the honor--to be the first one to cut the heads off Madonna and Britney Spears if they will keep spreading their Satanic culture against Islam."
He continued, "If these two prostitutes keep doing what they are doing, we of course will punish them."
Well, he'd better be ready for gayhad if that ever happens: I'll be the first to issue a fagwa against him. If he thinks Christians and Jews are evil, he's never met the Gays when they're pissed off. First we will mess him up, then we will mess his mama up...
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Well, today I really hit the jackpot. Or should I say crackpot?Muhammad Abdel-Al of the Palestinian terrorist group the Popular Resistance Committees has been quoted as saying: "If I meet these whores I will have the honor--I repeat, I will have the honor--to be the first one to cut the heads off Madonna and Britney Spears if they will keep spreading their Satanic culture against Islam."
He continued, "If these two prostitutes keep doing what they are doing, we of course will punish them."
Well, he'd better be ready for gayhad if that ever happens: I'll be the first to issue a fagwa against him. If he thinks Christians and Jews are evil, he's never met the Gays when they're pissed off. First we will mess him up, then we will mess his mama up...
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Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Caught Hooker, Line, And Sinker
Officials in the Republican Party are breathing a sigh of relief tonight; not because they've had a day without a new scandal surfacing - let's face it, that ain't happening - but because for once they've had a male Senator accused of having sex with - get this! - women.
I know! I was as shocked as you are.
The junior Senator from Louisiana, David Vitter, has been accused of adultery (among other things) by Wendy Ellis; the Senator, naturally, has denied the allegations, which I'm sure he will undeny later, since undenial is so much more Republican than either admission or confession. I dunno, maybe it's a legal loophole or something.
Any new thoughts on the sanctity of marriage, Senator Two-Face?
Isn't it always the way? Finally they catch a halfway cute one with his pecker out and he's straight. But when Senator Larry "Crypt-Keeper" Craig gets an itch he can't scratch the only thing straight about him is the direction he heads for the nearest men's room.
I only hope it's not a smoke screen. You know, the Senator using a prostitute only to provide him with a perfect hetero alibi while he's on the loose and fondling dudes? I mean, I just hate to see a hooker treated so disrespectfully. I mean, a wife expects it...
Meanwhile, Ellis will tell her story, lavishly illustrated, in the feminist tome Hustler; no word on where Mrs. Vitter will peddle her tale of woe, but it will probably be to prominent Republican porno rag National Review.
(It's one thing to see National Review consorting with whores, but it does irk me to see a quality publication like Hustler tarnish itself by doing so. What's next - porn stars? Ah, but that's a story for another day...)
[S O U R C E]
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I know! I was as shocked as you are.The junior Senator from Louisiana, David Vitter, has been accused of adultery (among other things) by Wendy Ellis; the Senator, naturally, has denied the allegations, which I'm sure he will undeny later, since undenial is so much more Republican than either admission or confession. I dunno, maybe it's a legal loophole or something.
Any new thoughts on the sanctity of marriage, Senator Two-Face?
Isn't it always the way? Finally they catch a halfway cute one with his pecker out and he's straight. But when Senator Larry "Crypt-Keeper" Craig gets an itch he can't scratch the only thing straight about him is the direction he heads for the nearest men's room.
I only hope it's not a smoke screen. You know, the Senator using a prostitute only to provide him with a perfect hetero alibi while he's on the loose and fondling dudes? I mean, I just hate to see a hooker treated so disrespectfully. I mean, a wife expects it...
Meanwhile, Ellis will tell her story, lavishly illustrated, in the feminist tome Hustler; no word on where Mrs. Vitter will peddle her tale of woe, but it will probably be to prominent Republican porno rag National Review.
(It's one thing to see National Review consorting with whores, but it does irk me to see a quality publication like Hustler tarnish itself by doing so. What's next - porn stars? Ah, but that's a story for another day...)
[S O U R C E]
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Sunday, September 09, 2007
What Is The Deal With Adam Sandler?
I know today is his birthday and all, so I'll go easy on him. But seriously, what is the deal with Adam Sandler?
It turns out the amount of weed I would have to smoke in order to make him funny may, in fact, be the fabled fatal dose of marijuana American government scientists have been trying to discover since the drug was outlawed in the 1920s.
Wait a minute... What were we talking about?
As you can see, even the amount of medication I needed to do the research for this piece has left me with desert mouth and wicked munchies. These are all technical terms...
Okay, focus. Adam Sandler. Right.
I'm serious; what is his deal? Well, let's see. His comedy comes from anger, which is okay, since when not performing he usually comes off as having the personality of a potato. At least he has a suitable outlet for his anger. Still, is one less serial killer really worth having to watch all those terrible movies he makes?
Of course it is; at least at the Cineplex you can choose not to be raped and left for dead.
At the Pop Culture Institute, a crack team of researchers (as opposed to a team of researchers on crack) are looking into this very matter as we speak, and will be issuing reports from time to time; so at least, like the end of every Adam Sandler movie, you have something to look forward to.
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Moroccan Tories Nab Parliament?
Now, normally I would be the last person to celebrate a right-wing victory - especially in a Muslim nation, but in the case of recent elections in Morocco, it would appear to be for the best.
Morocco's king, Mohammed VI, is very much an executive monarch, which means that very little gets done in Rabat (and thus the nation) without his consent. Since His Majesty is allied to the West, it matters little which party controls Parliament since, it would seem, that none of them really do.
The election in question was between a moderate Islamist party and a secular nationalist party, with the usual allegations of vote buying and corruption, some of which has been borne out by international observers. I will be the first to celebrate a secular victory anywhere, especially given the creep of theocracy in the post-9/11 world.
Since His Majesty's accession in 1999 he has introduced various modernizing measures which have angered Muslim fundamentalists, including the extension of greater rights to women.
[S O U R C E]
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Morocco's king, Mohammed VI, is very much an executive monarch, which means that very little gets done in Rabat (and thus the nation) without his consent. Since His Majesty is allied to the West, it matters little which party controls Parliament since, it would seem, that none of them really do.The election in question was between a moderate Islamist party and a secular nationalist party, with the usual allegations of vote buying and corruption, some of which has been borne out by international observers. I will be the first to celebrate a secular victory anywhere, especially given the creep of theocracy in the post-9/11 world.
Since His Majesty's accession in 1999 he has introduced various modernizing measures which have angered Muslim fundamentalists, including the extension of greater rights to women.
[S O U R C E]
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Now Showing: Ren and Stimpy by John Kricfalusi
Birthday boy John Kricfalusi is either the most boring person alive or a raving dementoid. I can make such an outrageous claim because in my vast experience with kooks (okay, okay, you got me; all of my experience with crazy people is limited to myself) that's how these things work.
There was a time when Ren & Stimpy was favoured watching material, mainly because it's crazy beyond belief. The above clip contains three mock commercials, including the most famous of them - Log, by Blammo - whose theme song I still sing in order to cheer myself up.
John K.'s blog - All Kinds of Stuff - is available here, and henceforth in my blogroll. It contains his voluminous knowledge of cartoon history and various rants regarding same. Enjoy!
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Damien Hirst's $100M Rip-Off?
[Roman Heart, taking one for the team,
in Falcon Studio's Heaven and Hell, $69.95.]
The first thing I thought when I saw Damien Hirst's newest sculpture, a diamond-encrusted skull which recently sold for a hundred million bucks, was "Oh, the decadence!" The next thought, mere minutes later (once I'd been revived), was "Where have I seen that before?"
It turns out that in 2006, the nice people at Falcon - the world's foremost purveyors of all-male erotica - released an epic film called Heaven and Hell, and in a couple of the scenes what should I spy (eventually) but...
A diamond-encrusted skull?
Now, it may be that I missed Art History the day they covered "Bits of Skeleton Covered in Precious Gems Through the Ages" (probably because I've never been to university), but the "coincidence" did seem a little queer. Unlike the rest of it, of course, which is a lot queer.
Methinks maybe Damien Hirst has some 'splainin' to do...
[S O U R C E]
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Saturday, September 08, 2007
Now Showing: "It's A Soaraway Life" starring Fry & Laurie
It's totally apropo of nothing, but I was arsing around YouTube and happened upon this scrumptious bit of comedy - which you know I will be showing again at Christmas and on Old Rupe's birthday.
Rupert Murdoch (played with great Australianity by Hugh Laurie) gets to see what the world would be like if he'd never been born, accompanied by the angel Clarence (Stephen Fry). Brilliant.
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1234: A Year in Review
Okay, so the first one of these I did was funny. By the last one the joke was beginning to wear thin; considering that the last one I did was also only the second one, should have been my first clue. I'm so over them now, at number three, that it'll be an effort to write it. Yet here I am...
Oh, what the Hell? See for yourself what a washout the year 1234 was.
You'd have thought someone would have thought - "Hey! That's a funny number for a year!" - and had a party or something. Say what you will, but people in olden times were boring. All they did was kill and pray.
(Watch for the next exciting installment - 1357: A Year in Review. Coming soon to the Pop Culture Institute...)
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Oh, what the Hell? See for yourself what a washout the year 1234 was.
You'd have thought someone would have thought - "Hey! That's a funny number for a year!" - and had a party or something. Say what you will, but people in olden times were boring. All they did was kill and pray.
(Watch for the next exciting installment - 1357: A Year in Review. Coming soon to the Pop Culture Institute...)
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1234: A Mini-milestone
Another milestone has arrived, giving me a few moments to pause and take a breather, look back over the accomplishments of the past couple of weeks, kick myself buttockally for all my weaknesses and failings (whether as a writer or a person) contained therein, then forge ahead until the next milestone, when I get to do it all again.
Good times...
With each new post my intentions regarding this blog as well as my life's work become clearer, at least to me. To the extent that I still allow myself to dream, I can foresee books and TV shows and all the stuff of an actual career being derived from what is currently a hastily compiled, occasionally over-written, slightly hysterical account of the calendar year as celebrated by yours truly.
Of course, I tell myself it'll be better next year, but I should know better than to believe myself when I say things like that. I'll never be happy with myself or my achievements, and no matter what I come to think of this blog I won't rest until it is a cake made entirely of icing, and may not rest even after that.
Rest assured, if even a tiny glimmer of satisfaction should manage to creep in upon the gloom that is my ego, I feel certain that my dread fear of being called arrogant will snuff it. My personal motto - the more you know, the less you know - has never been truer than it is at this moment. For every story contained on this blog there are a million which are not, and may never be, and it kills me what I may never know, let alone get to write about, because of the limitations of time and ignorance.
It should be fairly clear to one and all that, despite my fear and loathing of people, people are what the Pop Culture Institute is all about; whether they famously write books, corruptly run countries, or obscurely defuse bombs, my view of history is overwhelmingly people-centric. Writing about people allows me to express my interest in them without having to deal with their inevitable rejection of me. Where the threads of their lives sometimes cross, and often tangle, can be interesting; how inevitably they end up producing the rich tapestry of history is utterly fascinating.
Or, if you prefer... Uh, something less cliche?
There are now 774 posts separating this day from New Year's Day; I have no idea what those posts will contain, but I do know that I do not lack for subject matter, nor will I ever. I should probably get back to writing about Vancouver, which I haven't been doing for a few months now, nor have I been posting many of my own photos lately. I have yet to publish fiction, and there's also the pending matter of the puppets...
All in good time, friends. In the meantime I cannot stress enough that your comments are much appreciated. I've decided to lift the embargo on anonymous posts, and I am once again calling on everyone who can read these words to join me in building something unique: a community of people interested in studying the people's history, which is pop culture, and as ever the focus of the Pop Culture Institute.
~ MSM
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Good times...
With each new post my intentions regarding this blog as well as my life's work become clearer, at least to me. To the extent that I still allow myself to dream, I can foresee books and TV shows and all the stuff of an actual career being derived from what is currently a hastily compiled, occasionally over-written, slightly hysterical account of the calendar year as celebrated by yours truly.
Of course, I tell myself it'll be better next year, but I should know better than to believe myself when I say things like that. I'll never be happy with myself or my achievements, and no matter what I come to think of this blog I won't rest until it is a cake made entirely of icing, and may not rest even after that.
Rest assured, if even a tiny glimmer of satisfaction should manage to creep in upon the gloom that is my ego, I feel certain that my dread fear of being called arrogant will snuff it. My personal motto - the more you know, the less you know - has never been truer than it is at this moment. For every story contained on this blog there are a million which are not, and may never be, and it kills me what I may never know, let alone get to write about, because of the limitations of time and ignorance.
It should be fairly clear to one and all that, despite my fear and loathing of people, people are what the Pop Culture Institute is all about; whether they famously write books, corruptly run countries, or obscurely defuse bombs, my view of history is overwhelmingly people-centric. Writing about people allows me to express my interest in them without having to deal with their inevitable rejection of me. Where the threads of their lives sometimes cross, and often tangle, can be interesting; how inevitably they end up producing the rich tapestry of history is utterly fascinating.
Or, if you prefer... Uh, something less cliche?
There are now 774 posts separating this day from New Year's Day; I have no idea what those posts will contain, but I do know that I do not lack for subject matter, nor will I ever. I should probably get back to writing about Vancouver, which I haven't been doing for a few months now, nor have I been posting many of my own photos lately. I have yet to publish fiction, and there's also the pending matter of the puppets...
All in good time, friends. In the meantime I cannot stress enough that your comments are much appreciated. I've decided to lift the embargo on anonymous posts, and I am once again calling on everyone who can read these words to join me in building something unique: a community of people interested in studying the people's history, which is pop culture, and as ever the focus of the Pop Culture Institute.
~ MSM
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