All right, here's my favourite 100 popular songs of all time. In case the word "favourite" throws someone people, I'm not arguing about the "best" songs, just the ones that mean something to me. I've limited myself to "pop" music - so, no classical or jazz. I like classical and jazz, but rarely know the real names of songs(I still call Beethoven's Ninth Symphony "The Du Du Du Dummmm Song"). I also limited the number of time an artist could appear (to 2) otherwise Tom Waits, Bowie, VU and Leonard Cohen would be on here A LOT more.

Sometimes the reason the song is on the list is easily discernible (ie the song is obviously good); other times the reason is hidden beneath layers of personal experience, which I won't go into. The entries are in no particular order. Comments are equally random.

I make no apologies for the titles below. They could change at a moment's notice.

1. Jersey Girl - Tom Waits Not enough love songs talk about "the whores on Eighth Avenue" or any other avenue, road or blvd.
2. You Can't Always Get What you Want - The Rolling Stones If The Big Chill hadn't screwed it up, this would have played at my funeral.
3. Here Comes the Sun - Beatles This will play at my funeral. Roslyn? Mel? Cheryl? Practice up.
4. Something to Look Forward To - Spoon Hmmmm, Spoon.
5. Veronica - Elvis Costello
6. Quick One While He's Away - The Who From the Concert with the Rolling Stones is my favourite version.'Cello, cello, cello.' Almost a rock opera on its own.
7. In the Darkest Place - Costello and Burt Bacarach Pretty girls look through me too, guys.
8. Fly - Nick Drake
9. Pale Blue Eyes - Velvet Underground
10. Melody Motel - Squeeze Story of a prostitute murdering husband masquerading as a upbeat countryesque tune.
11. A Singer Must Die - Leonard Cohen
12. Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads Same as it ever was.
13.Winner Takes it All - ABBA Shut up, it's a good song.
14.Diggin' a Hole - Big Sugar I'm feeling twice my age.
15.Tangled up in Blue - Bob Dylan Dylan wrote some of the greatest songs of all time, and this is likely my favourite.
16.Lovers in a Dangerous Time - Barenaked Ladies Cockburn's version is too electronic sounding.
17. You're so Vain - Carly Simon
18. Should I stay or should I go - The Clash The most important musical question.
19.We Used to be Friends - Dandy Warhols Thank Veronica Mars.
20. Starman - David Bowie
21. Ashes to Ashes - David Bowie I frickin' knew Major Tom was a junkie.
22. Let the Bodies Hit the Floor - Drowning Pool
23. Gimme Hope, Jo'anna - Eddy Grant Was protesting Aparteid ever so damned dancable?
24. Same Old Song - Four Tops
25. Clint Eastwood - Gorillaz My favourite walking-down-the-street song!
26. Box of Rain - Grateful Dead
27. Touch of Gray- Grateful Dead Popular Dead doesn't mean Bad Dead; this is a good song.
28. Paradise City - GNR This song is Junior High!
29. Laid - James
30. At Seventeen - Janis Ian
31. Shine a Light - Wolf Parade
32. With ot Without You - U2
33. Paris 1919 - John Cale The Fragments of a Rainy Season live version
34. Hurt - Johnny Cash
35. I Walk the Line - Johnny Cash
36. Tear Drop - Massive Attack aka the House Theme, but longer and with words.
37. Bat out of Hell - Meat Loaf Toss up between this and Paradise by the Dashboard Light, but BOOH wasn't ruined by memories of highschool dances.
38. Enter Sandman - Metallica
39. Up Jumped the Devil - Nick Cave and the Bad Seed
40. These Days - Nico
41. Shimmy Shimmy Ya - Wu Tang Clan
42. Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard - Paul Simon
43. Celica - Simon and Garfunkel
44. Whiter Shade of Pale - Procul Harum
45. Fairytale of New York - The Pogues The only song I need to play at Christmas time.
46. Like a Friend - Pulp I've had way too many relationships like this.
47. Killing Me Softly - Roberta Flack The Fugees version is good, except for the annoying "One Time," so I'll give it up to Roberta.
48. Don't You Forget about me - Simple Minds Likely here because of its association with the Breakfast Club, but so what?
49. How Soon Is Now - The Smiths
50. Begging You - Stone Roses
51. Tango Til They're Sore - Tom Waits
52. Into the Mystic - Van Morrison He rocked my gypsy soul.
53. Poor, Poor Pitiful Me - Warren Zevon
54. The Kids are Alright - The Who
55. Drive - REM
56. Poppa Was a Rodeo - Magnetic Fields
57. Christmas Time is Here - Vince Guaraldi Trio My other Christmas fav.
58. Street Hassle - Lou Reed Reed's brightest post VU moment.
59. Grace Too - Tragically Hip But the live Saturday Night Live version
60. Tale of Brave Ulysses - Cream
61. I wanna be Sedated - The Ramones All Ramones songs are basically the same, but this one makes me smile.
62. Twist and Shout - Beatles
63. Me and Bobby McGee - Janis Joplin
64. Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell Only the later husky voiced version has the appropiate tone though.
65. I Go Blind - 54-40
66. Joy to the World - Three Dog Night
67. Paranoid - Black Sabbath
68. Walk this Way - Run DMC and Aerosmith
69. Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult
70. Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana
71. Search and Destroy - The Stooges
72. Crimson and Clover - Joan Jett
73. Sin City - Flying Burrito Brothers
74. The Sweater Song - Weezer
75. Rocket Man - Elton John Tiny Dancer has been ruined by miss-hearing "Hold me closer, Tony Danza" so I'll say this song.
76. Stuck in the Middle With You - Stealer's Wheels This song makes me wanna cut off an ear.
77. Sleeping Maggie - Ashley MacIssac I have no idea what the woman is singing about... but it's a hard not to TRY to sing along.
78. Bittersweet Symphony -The Verve
79. Blister in the Sun - Violent Femmes
80. Jeremy - Pearl Jam
81. Under Pressure - Queen and Bowie
82. King of Pain - The Police
83. High and Dry - Radiohead I've gotten over the torture of a Univerity acquiantance singing this song incessantly in a high falsetto.
84. I Don't Like Mondays - Boomtown Rats Another nail in Monday's coffin.
85. Runaway Train - Soul Assylum
86. Don't Marry Her - Beautiful South F%@k me... it's the lyric. Seriously.
87. It'll All Work Out - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
88. ABC - Jackson Five I like this even more since Clerks 2
89. November Rain - GNR
90. Proud Mary - Ike and Tina Turner/CCR Very different but equally enjoyable tracks
91. Piano Man - Billy Joel
92. Suzanne - Leonard Cohen
93. Let's Get it on - Marvin Gaye I can only imagine how powerful it must be to hear someone say this and mean it.
94. Mustang Sally - Wilson Pickett
95. Alive - Pearl Jam
96. Home for a Rest - Spirit of the West You'll have to excuse me.
97. God Save the Queen - Sex Pistols
98. Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division
99. Cold BLooded Oldtimes - Smog
100. Walt Whitman's Niece - Wilco and Billy Bragg

Shakin' its fist in the air

A little more detail about my trip... not that anyone really cares.

I got to meet up with my friend Jaimie for the first time in 12 years, which was lovely. Took the subway into TO and hung out on her lunch break (and ate the bestest ice cream in the whole wide world). After I left, things got even more interesting as a suspected bomber shut down the street just half an half after I departed (all was alright... false alarm).

Had coffee with some highschool friends. I usually get together with some of these highschool people when I'm home, not always the same ones, but some. I'm usually nervous before hand (I'm a natural worrier), but it always go well. I mean, we're all very different people then we used to be, but, at least for the few hours we hang, we get together and we click. It's nice. I also got to meet my friend Sandy's daughter, who is, predicatably, very cute. She enjoyed appearing really interested in me for a time, then ignoring me for a while, then being interested in me again... which pretty much sums up my relationship with her mother. *shrug*

The Zoo with Del, my nearly 3 year old god-daughter, was fantastic. It's kind of scary how much personality she has already. When she got out of the car to say hello, she looked at me and said, "I'll say more after I go pee." I was a little taken aback by how articulate she is. The post-pee conversation was also equally interesting. After the zoo (or the pavillion and a half we went to) we headed to the Rain Forest Cafe in the Yorkdale Shopping Centre. It has these animatronic animals and looks like a rain forest. Every 20 or 30 minutes, the lights go down and rain sound effects produce the impression of a rain storm. Thankfully no actual water falls on you. Later, when we were saying out goodbyes, Del gave me a big hug and said, "I love you, Mike." It was sweet.

While killing time before I met my friend Lisa, I hung out in Oshawa Centre for about an hour, just walking back and forth. When I was younger (like 13 or 14), I used to love that mall 'cause it seemed so big. Now, whenever I return to Osahwa I find myself there, half expecting, half dreading running into people I used to know, some major player from my life - a teacher, a girl I had a crush on, a long lost friend. Today I only saw a few of my life's minor players, walk on roles really: Craig's old girlfriend (before the big closet exiting), an old co-worker, and the Bad Toupee man, who's 10 years older but his hair STILL looks the same! This trip to the mall was even more disconcerting then usual though, because of the cheerleaders.

The Oshawa Centre, as a summer feature to promote a friendly mall experience, has hired pretty young girls to dress up as cheerleaders. Let that sink in for a second: it's 2006 and a mall has cheerleaders as a promotional tool! These girls are situated throughout the mall and "will happily answer any questions you might have." That's what the sign said, though I assume that their answers are limited to things like "Where's the Gap?" and "Do you know where I can get a coffee?" and not inquires into nuclear fission. And I'd be willing to place money on the fact that this whole cheerleader idea was a guy's.

The day after I arrived home, I headed down to the UM Press, despite the fact that classes start tomorrow and I have little idea of what I'm supposed to do. I NEEDED to sign some stuff that should have been signed in June *shrugs* It's also particularly annoying (though not at all unexpected) that NOTHING has been done to clear out the store room (which will once again be my office) and that the my lovely summer office, which I "had to" get my stuff out of before I went to Ontario, is sitting there empty.

Home again, Home again, jiggity jig

My flight home from Toronto wasn't as nearly early as early as my flight to Toronto. Still, I did have to be up quite early. The second plane wasn't "full" full, but there were way more people on it. I suppose the more reasonable the time of departure, the more people will take it.

All in all, a good trip home. Maybe a bit short, but good nevertheless. Sorry to people I didn't get to see (Shawn, Dana etc). Thank you to those I did.

Now the school year starts. This year I'm going to try to use fewer embarassing personal stories to illustrate points or ideas.

Bland on the run

So, here I am at my parents home in Ontario. Actually, I'm typing this in the room that I grew up in. There's a few more stuffed sheep (I'm afraid to ask what that's about) and a few less video tapes, but there's an odd familiarity sitting here. Sort of like an awkward hug from a distant cousin.

I've seen a few people from my old life, and so far that's all been good. Went over to my old highschool and spoke an English teacher I always liked and admired (he let me read Lady Chatterly's Lover in highschool). Went out for dinner with an old friend, whose life has taken a very different path these last few months. I have lunch with another old friend tomorrow and then coffee with some highschool friends. It'll be a long day, but I'm looking forward to it.

Free love on the Free love freeway

Does the fact that my new favourite show, "The Office," won the Emmy for best Comedy series mean that the Emmys are hipping it up or that I'm getting lamer? I mean, had "Two and a Half Men" won I would have sold my TV, but surely the Emmys have finally got around to recognizing good television... right? Right?

Congrats to my "friends" at the Office.

In (slightly) related news: my friend Emmie wrote me from Japan. She's hip.

She feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China

I went to see Cirque de Soleil yesterday afternoon, and it was pretty damn impressive, I must admit. About half way through the show that I realized something, though. As impressive as it is, Cirque de Soleil is all about crotches: displaying crotches, girrating crotches, putting people's heads or hands on/near crotches.


Just thought I'd share that.

Way Over Yonder in a Minor Key

In shockingly insensitive news: apparently David Brent (from BBC's "The Office") has found a job preparing "So Now You're Laid Off"packages at Northwest Airlines. Read more here.

Brandy, you're a fine girl

I have over 4000 views. I should feelgood about that, and I would except for the fact that at least half of those are from me pulling up the site to see if the counter's moved. *sigh* Though I'm told that people stop by here, read my silliness and *gasp* don't comment.

All right, kiddies. Time for a list. This one is my 17 (in no particular order) greatest characters in Television history.*

* I say "television history" but I'm only going to consider shows I've watched since exiting my mother's netherparts 31 years ago. So, don't bring me the "what about Lucy?" stuff. If I watched it, even in syndication, it's game.

1. Dan Fielding - "Night Court": John Larroquette played the fine line between disgusting pig and charmer like no one else.
2. Buffy - "Buffy the Vampire Slayer": hot chick who kicks tail. Nuff said.
3. House - "House": Hugh Laurie is the freakin' man. Anyone who can convincingly play a British fop (Bertie Wooster) and an American misanthrope (House) is a friend of mine.
4. Edmund Blackadder - various Blackadder series: Rowan Atkinson as Mr. Bean makes me sad. As good as he is as the silent Bean, he is ten times better as a sarcastic sadistic Blackadder.
5. David Brent - The Office: Ricky Gervais made uncomfortable so funny in this groundbreaking series.
6. Mr. Hooper - "Sesame Street": His death was the first real loss many children experienced because Sesame Street would not recast the part. They showed that children need not be coddled or spoken down to or tricked... then they gave us Elmo and pooped all over that idea.
7. Inspector Morse - Inspector Morse: John Thaw's interpretation of the sullen, grumpy C.I.D. was wonderful. Morse was brilliant, cultured and very often wrong in his conclusions.
8. David Fisher - "Six Feet Under": In this the smartest and most well written series on television, David was the most interesting character. The "good" son, who struggles with his sexual, religious and personal identities.
9. Lou Grant - "Mary Tyler Moore Show": Ed Asner is one cool old man. Funny and scary all at the same time.
10. Wesley Wyndham Price - "Buffy" and "Angel": Wes's evolution from goof to badass was one of my favourite story arches of recent memory. The pain and self-loathing, the unrequited love... a little close to home.
11. Fonzie - "Happy Days": Before Arthur (and the show) jumped the shark, The Fonz was the man.
12. Homer - "The Simpsons": While the show's endless self referential nature has turned me off, this once great show hit its stride when it chose Homer as the focal character.
13. Keith Mars - "Veronica Mars": He maybe the greatest TV dad of all time. When lame parental figures are the norm, Keith stands out. He genuinely cares about his daughter and respects her.
14. Rube - "Dead Like Me": Mandy Patinkin's second greatest role. As the patriarchal reaper Rube, you never quite knew where he was coming from.
15. KITT - "Knight Rider": More personality and character than his human counterpart, KITT made a show starring David Hasselhoff bearable. Baywatch producers needed dozens of jiggling breasts to achieve the same thing.
16. Basil Fawlty – “Fawlty Towers”: Angry was never as funny.
17. Jack Bauer – “24”: He pulls too many all nighters for a guy his age.

See the way she walks

University: Wilfrid Laurier

When you attended, where did you live?
Year 1: 3rd Floor, Willison Hell, I mean "Hall"
Year 2-5: 413 Hazel Street apt 202

Who was your roommate?
1. Chuck... something
2. Flatmates: Brad, Doug and then...
3. Rachel

Ever get in trouble in the dorms? Nope. With people puking in garbage cans and stealing tvs, I somehow managed to stay under the radar.

Phone number? I have no idea.

First party attended? Um, probably the first or second day of Frosh Week. That was like one big party.

Favourite pizza place? Domino's

Favourite place to go out to eat? China Garden. We went there a lot in first year. And they still remember me and what I want after all this time.

Did you go to the library? Yes.

What was your favourite floor you'd always be on? I don't understand the question.

Where did you buy your books? The campus bookstore and Second Look Books.

Play any sports? Oh my no.

Ever attend a sporting event? Oh my no.

In any clubs? Not that I recall.

Ever attend a concert or comedic performance? Yup, Spirit of the West. Great Big Sea, some comedy event (can't recall anyone standing out as good), the Watchmen

Favourite professors? most of my Englis profs were great: Boire, Jewinski, Weldon, Moore

Favourite night to go out on and where? Any night to China Garden or Princess Cinema

Where did you get coffee? Rain Tree Cafe, Grabba Jabba

Favourite Year of Halloween? First year. I went as Jack Kerouac, which meant Levis, rumpled shirt and a bottle of wine.

Favourite memory? Of all of University? I don't have just one.

Ever had a job? video stores, day camps in the summers

What do you hate about your college? The focus on Business students

What do you love most about it? I learned that I could get a PhD.

Where would you believe is the best location to live in? First year: Residence for sure; I'd go with a "quiet res" though. Second year and beyond: Hazel Street was nice.

Graduated or still attending? BA (Hons) 98; MA 99.

Will you go back? I would LOVE to go back and teach there.

How many parking tickets have you got there? Not a one!

Ever gotten arrested? Nope.

They come together whom their love parted

If there's one thing more terrifying than snakes on a plane, it's Tilley Hat man on the bus. I officially gave up taking the REALLY early bus to work a couple of weeks ago and have been taking the MODERATELY early bus instead. The only trouble with the MODERATELY early bus is the dread Tilley Hat Man. Thankfully, I've been blesses with two new bus mates who share my extreme dislike of the Tilley Hat Man. All three of us exit at the same stop, turn to each other and ask, "Can you believe that man?" It's amusing how friendships can be built on a foundation of wishing someone a sever case of laryngitis.

The Tilley Hate man wasn't on the bus today... and I must say I was a little disappointed. It's like people who are mis-diagnosed with a terminal disease become depressed when they find out they aren't dying. It seems I've come to define the bus ride by my anger at how annoying he is. Without him and his loud orations, I have nothing to be angry at. And that makes me sad.

So long, Marianne

Over at Pitchfork.com, they've complied their choices for the 200 best songs of the 1960s. While I don't necessarily agree with the order they've chosen, as you flip through the list you can't help but realize that the 1960s were any incredible for music. From Bobby Darin to the roots of reggee, from the Beach Boys to the Beatles, from the Stones to the Who, from Dylan to Cohen, music mattered. I find it hard to imagine the 2060 Pitchfork equivalent sorting through Blink 182 or Jessica Simpson tracks looking for the best 200 songs of the 2010s. At a time when a singer's breasts attract more media attention than her song or when who a musician dates rates over actual talent, this list makes me pine for a time when singers sang from the heart and guts be they plain or ugly.

If you like good music, look through the list. There's probably something there you haven't heard, but should.

I just wanna bang on my drum all day

My grandma used to say."Don't be afraid of the rain, 'coz you're not made of sugar." But wouldn't it be awesome if you were made of sugar. That would be so sweet.... unless you were diabetic. Then it would still be sweet, but that sweetness would probably kill you.

All agents are still busy. Please hold and we'll answer your call in rotation

I don't know if the guy who wrote "Play that Funky Music, White boy" thought of the song as a brass band number... but he should have.

Waited on a line of feelin' blue

People get offended when you tell them they smell... when they clearly do. And no, I don't mean smell as a verb, as in they possess the ability to detect odours with their nasal abilities. I mean they are smelly. They have odour. And I can detect it with my nasal ability.

Despite the fact that that phrase - "You smell" - has no value judgement whatsoever, people tend to take it to mean "You smell bad." They get all self conscious and embarassed (or angry and violent, it depends). Yet people spend a lot of time and money trying to smell. They buy creams and lotions, cologne and perfume, soaps and body washes. People WANT to smell. And that's good. What I can't understand is why so many peopl want to smell like food. As per an earlier blog, I smell like Lime and a Cocoanut. How many fruit scented lipbalms are there? I sat behind a woman on the bus today who was wearing vanilla perfume. VANILLA! She was talking to her friend about this perfume. It was new and "didn't it smell wonderful?" Wonderful? I wanted to lick her And not in some disturbing, sexual manner. She smelled like a cake! I was hungry!

I think I may have just discovered something about our culture's bizarre relationship to food.

The future's not ours to see

There's new body wash in my shower. I assume my wife bought it; she's usually the one who buys stuff. This new body wash is called "Lime and Coconut." I used it, but now I'm concerned about smelling like a Harry Nilsson song.

Lay me down in sheets of lemon

When I read this, I smiled. A bridge in Hungary is going to be named for American karate... guy, Chuck Norris. So, is it wooden with very little support?

Hoodoo Voodoo

Holy crap, it's hard to concentrate today. Hard to concentrate, hard to care.

Heard some Man-in-the-Tilley-Hat stories the other day, but for the life of me I can't remember what they were about. Probably the usual fare: obnoxious and loud monologues. The last time I was on the bus with him he had his son with him. The kid was six, maybe seven years old. He didn't say much (how could he with his dad yammering on and on), and I couldn't help but feel bad for him. I only deal with the MITTH once or twice a week; he has to live with him EVERY DAY. Wonder if that's how those Menedez kids went bad?

You know who I am, he said

So, I spent the morning in the Manitoba Provincial Archives. And yes, it was as much fun as it sounds. I'm supposed to be doing prelim research for a book on Manitoba film, so the author wanted me to go through all the records of film holding in the archives. Now, if the archives were digital (like everything else in this crazy world) this would be no problemo. But, alas, it's not. I guess they figure "We got old crap - why have computers too?" I can't remember the last time I had to use a card catalogue.. though I suppose the fact that I did use one once upon a time means that I'm getting old.

So there I sat, with three large binders of all the film holdings in the collection a legal pad and a pencil. And are these films exciting lost-gems of cinematic wonderfulness? Maybe you're not paying attention: they really, really suck!

Most of the stuff appears to be home movies of the long deceased or industrial training films from the 1940s. It seems like every club and organization made a short film about themselves at some point. Okay, there were a couple of flicks I thought, "I wouldn't mind checking that out" (like the Bing Crosby/Alfafla short promoting Canadian Victory Bonds) but those were few and far between.

I left there feeling much ill-will towards film and movies in general, so I decided I'd better stop at the UW and glance through their collection film books in the library to cheer me up. For being such a small school, UW has a remarkably good selection of film books. I re-read Richard Dyer's BFI book on Brief Encounter (which I'm using for my thesis) and picked up a book on Star-acting (my current focus) and Christmas and the Movies - as I've figured out a way to write about my favourite holiday film of all time: Brian Desmond Hurst's Scrooge (1951).

Whatever gets you through today

I'm cat sitting for my across the street neighbours for the next couple of weeks. I'm not a big cat fan (as some people know), but these cats are unlike any cats I've ever met in my life. Most cats are of the "who the hell are you and why the hell should I care" school. As long as you feed them and clean up their poop, they aren't much interested in you. These cats like attention. They crave it. They are not skittish or scaredy or anything esle I've understood cats to be.

I went over the other day to read the New York Times. I was sitting on the couch in the livingroom, reading about the amazing cornucopia of films one can see if one lived in Manhattan, and suddenly there a cat on me. Now, the cat didn't just climb into my lap, it leaped across the room and landed on the paper. I tried to shift the little fuzzball so that I could at least read while it sat on me, but to no avail. I tried to pick it up, but it just flopped over. I thought about standing up, but was afraid it would use its claws to stay up.

I'd probably still be sitting there if it hadn't needed to use the litterbox.

I can't stand the rain

over at FilmCritic.com, a few folks ahave put their heads together to come up with the 50 Greatest Movie Endings of All Time. The list isn't too bad; there are some perennial favourites (Dr. Strangelove, Chinatown, Casablanca)and some WTFs (Real Genius, Before Sunrise and Being There). I couldn't help but feel like they missed one of the greatest endings of all-time: Monty Python's Life of Brian. Not only is the all-cross rendition of "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" the perfect note to end this bitter-sweet exploration of religion and faith, it has ellipsed the film itself. "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" has become an anthem for second rate sports teams and even the British Navy. It's the perfect loser song.

And what becomes of you, my love?

All right. The game is called 'Desert Island.' You have to give me your top 5, must-have-if-I-were-stranded-on-a-desert-island of the following:
1) Books
2) DVDS (accepting for the sake of the game that this desert island has electricity and is Projector-DVD ready)*
3) Albums

*I've checked with the judges and "Seasons of tv on DVD" will be accepted for DVD answers, however one season equals one choice.

Ready?

GO!

Wrong way down a one way track

On the bus ride home from the University last night, a pleasant looking young lady took the seat in front of me. This is slightly unusual, as most (sane and reasonably clean) people tend to want to sit as far away from me as possible. I was reading and, subsequently, not paying that much attention. When I read on the bus, forget about it. I'm in my own little world, a world I planned to stay in until my stop. However, my lovely little world came crashing down when I glanced up as this lady was raising her arm to remove her backpack and I caught a glimpse of the hairiest armpit I have ever seen in my life. We're talking Buckwheat in a headlock hairy. I thought my father had hairy armpits, but they were nothing compared to the sheer volume of hiar this girl had. She could have braided it.

Needless to say, my concentration was shot to pieces. Try as I might to get back into the story. Any attempt to return to my beloved fiction world was thwarted. All I could think about was that nasty, nasty pit.

Now I know some people will read this and think, "What's the big deal? It's European." To these people, I say fat dudes in g-strings are also "European" - doesn't make it right.

Still others will vehemently defend this woman's right not to shave with evocations of nature and the mythical “natural state.” They’ll say stupid things like, "That's the way God made us" and "Women weren't meant to shave their armpits or their legs" (I checked afterwards and this chick had some hairy-assed gams too). Know what? Crap. It's a big deal 'cause it's nasty. Freakin' gross. Know what else isn't natural? Brushing one's teeth. Know what else isn't natural? Bathing. Yet we still feel the need to do those things. You can't make the "natural state" argument when you wash your clothes, use soap, and rely on that new fangled invention, toothpaste. Leaving aside things like Ipods and cell phones, both of which armpit girl had, using everyday modernizations like skin cream, makeup, even eye glasses, makes the natural state argument null and void.

Maybe we should all start ignoring dental hygiene - stop brushing, stop flossing, stop seeing the dentist. Now THAT's European! Well, at the very least British.

I won't say which building

There's entirely too much "Saved by the Bell" on television.

Ever since we shuffled around our MTS cable package (which is a frighteningly easy thing to do), there is an average of 5 hours of the cancelled teenybopper show on a day. A day, folks! TBS runs a solid 2-hour block in the morning, another hour in the early, post-lunch afternoon and Omni (a channel that must be Canadian because of the crappy programming) runs yet another hour mid afternoon. That's five hours of Zak's schemes, Screech's mis-matched clothes, Kelly's whining and Slater's mullet.

I have to admit that I've found myself watching a few minutes during the morning marathon. Not much on at 6:45 besides news and cable-access quality religious shows. Here's the thing I can't figure out: who was this show aimed at? The characters are in high school, yet nothing even remotely recognizable as "high school experience" happens to them. The school itself seems to consist of a student body of about 17 kids, a principal and 3, maybe 4, teachers. The misfit students are labeled "nerds" and all have names that have doomed them to that identity: "Eugene” and "Nerdlinger" being my personal favourites. It’s actually kind of amusing to see how rough the nerds are treated and how ostracized they are from the lives of the main characters, despite the umpteen lessons of tolerance and acceptance those main characters learn. It’s also amusing to watch Jessi pontificate about the objectification of women, knowing she went on to star in the peeler masterpiece, Showgirls. Ah, sweet, sweet irony!

Now I know why I watch 10-15 minutes of this show every few days, but who watched it in its original run? How did this fluffy, bubblegum show last when shows like Degrassi and even 90210, however sensational, were more accurately reflecting the real anguish of high school? Did high school students watch this show? Mentally challenged adults? Who?

I miss the honky tonks, Dairy Queens, and 7-Elevens

I have to admit I was a little disappointed when I heard Kevin Smith was making a sequel to his 1994 breakout film, Clerks. Let me explain.

I first saw Clerks at an art-house theatre in Waterloo in my first year of university. I had been working clerk-ish jobs for about 5 years, and I could relate to everything that I saw on screen: the annoying customers, the surly co-workers, the getting screwed into working way more than you should. In an age when "American Indy" film was plagued by people making Hollywood-seque narratives with no-name actors, Clerks truly was different, edgy and in your face. People talked like people I knew and talked about things my friends (mostly) talked about. In a film (the only one up until then and possibly since) given the kiss-of-death NC-17 rating solely for dialogue- no guns, no sex, no (discernible) nudity- I found charatcers I knew. I went tohighschool with a number of Randalls, guys who would say literally anything in order to shock people and then claim not to understand why other people found it offensive.

Since Clerks Smith has had his share of hits and misses, most of which take place in Smith's fictional world (or "Askewniverse). His next flick, Mallrats was trashed by critics, flopped at the box office but has found its niche on home video and DVD. Chasing Amy, Smith's "apology film", was a return to the edgier content of Clerks, this time with professional actors and a more competent Smith at the helm. Independently financed, Chasing Amy is my personal favourite of Smith's work, a postmodern love story about a boy in love with a girl who likes girls. Then there were the Jay and Silent Bob driven Dogma and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, the former a (mostly) thoughtful examination of religion and faith, the later a masturbatory fluff piece replete with star cameos, none-to-subtle references to previous films, and lots of fourth wall breaking *wink-wink* glances to the audience. 2004's Jersey Girl marked a directional shift in Smith. This was the first of his films to exist outside the Askewniverse, a world Smith claimed to be putting to bed. With an enviable cast, including the frequently used Affleck and George Carlin, Liv Tyler, Jason Biggs (that pie-f#*$er) and Jennifer Lopez. The film is solid, but ultimately weak: a romantic comedy with a cute child. Its poor performance at the box-office can be blamed as much on the media's overexposure of "Bennifer" as anything else. Jersey Girl is no Gigli, but after that steaming pile of horse crap, people avoided anything that had those two sharing screen time. But the film, inspired by Smith's new role as father, showed maturity and promise. There was talk of a Smith-helmed Fletch movie (which sounded great but feel through) and he seemed to be turning his attention new stories. But then he announced his next film would be a sequel to his first film, then titled "Passion of the Clerks." And I wondered if Smith, like Dante and Randall, is doomed to a repetive existence, stuck in the same deadend role, film after film.

So, what make Smith return to the Askewniverse that established him as a creative force after claiming it had run its course? Was it the failure of the Jersey Girl> Was it the promise to the recovering Jason Mewes that if he stayed clean he could play Jay one more time? Was it, as Smith said, that he simply fell in love with the Clerks characters all over again while putting together the Tenth Anniversary DVD? Whatever the reason, Clerks II was made. And, for the most part, I'm glad that it was.

The real stand out in this film is Rosario Dawson. She's absolutely perfect. So incredibly beautiful, yet so down to earth. A non-made up beauty you really can find in the real world. You can see her working in a dead-end job and you can totally see Dante falling for her. While Brian O'Hallaran and Jeff Anderson are very good in their roles, Rosario has a lot of different things to convey in her scenes. She does it every time, from dancing on the rooftop, to trying to act tough, to fragility. I've heard that Ms Dawson doesn't think of herself as a sex-symbol. While to limit her to that role would be gravely short-sighted, she is very sexy.

Clerks II is not Clerks, but then it shouldn't be. You can't go home. Or, you can, but you'll find that your mom's thrown out your comic books and Reservoir Dogs posters and turned your room into a sewing room. If you go expecting things to be different, and allow for those changes you might be surprised. Make no mistake, the dialogue is as raw and disgusting as ever, but there's sweetness and gentleness beneath the bestiality jokes here that I'm afraid will go unseen by the Mallrats-loving potheads or the uppity conservative filmgoers who will avoid this film all together. But that's always been Smith's major limitations: he's hardly ever recognized for the sum of his talents. His capital-P Potty mouth often alienates people who would appreciate the intelligence and subtly of his work. Where else are you going to get an extended donkey sex scene in the same movie that gives you a whimsical dance number?

This is the celebration of Smith's world that Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back should have been: no crass mugging for the camera, no celebrity whoring (except for that Affleck cat, but given his importance to the Askewniverse he deserves to be there). In the final scene, a touching nod to Clerks with Smith's friend, "the Lon Chaney of the 90s," Walt Flanagan orders a pack of smokes from Dante. The colour fades. We're back in the world of Black and White, customers and clerks. People know what they want here, unlike at Moobey’s where everything has to be contemplated about and translated. The camera pulls back down the aisle of the Quickie Mart, leaving the clerks at the counter. Things are well in the world.

We can leave the store now.

Let's start a company and make misery

It's Fringe time here in Winnipeg. Happens every year about this time. I usually make it to a few plays, ones that my wife has scoped out ahead of time. After one year's "Canterbury Tales" horror, (sometimes I wake up screaming because it was so bad) I don't trust myself to pick my own plays. Maybe I should bad about this. I don't, but maybe I should. It's not like most other Fringe-goers are that different. Last night I watched as couple after couple wandered around the Exchange with the Free Press review held aloft, ever before them, trying to rush to see whatever thing some newspaper critic gave 5 stars. At least my wife knows me and knows what I'll like. People who select a play simply because some random reviewer gave it 5 stars deserve to be disappointed - like the sour faced guy coming out of the much-heralded Flamenco show who was heard to say, "That piece of crap got 5 stars?". Well, if you don't like to watch people dancing, what does it matter if someone gave the show 5 stars or a hundred: YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DIG IT, FRIEND!

Case in point: Free Press ubermensch, Morley "Ohh What a Big Pen I Got" Walker criticized one show for being too American and for using, and I quote, "too many four-syllable words." Let's leave the ridiculousness of thinking that the American content would go over Canadians' (who get between 80-95% of their media from the US) head, let's concentrate on that pesky problem of big words. You see, Walker describes the performer as "Bill Maher overdosed on amphetamines" and quips, "Nothing escapes van Hest’s bitter, acerbic and vulgar gaze, though he sounds like he has memorized a PhD thesis deconstructing American social mores. Maybe I'm wrong, but aren't there a whole bunch of big, freakin' words in that review? I can only assume from this that the only big words Walker objects to are the ones other people use. Reviewers need to remember that their job entails more than merely giving your own personal opinion of something You're supposed to be guiding a potential audience towards things THEY will like and away from things THEY won't.

I overheard two people talking before one of the plays. Guy #1 recommended a certain play to Guy #2. Guy #2 crinkled his nose, "Didn't that get a bad review in the Fress Press?" Guy #1 rolls his eyes, "I know that reviewer and I was at the show that guy was at. Everyone else in the audience loved the play. They were howling with laughter. Everyone except the reviewer." Guy #2 furrows his brow, "He didn't mention that in the review." Of course he wouldn't. But again, if people solely rely on the word of one person, one person you don't know, you're going to miss some really good stuff.

That said, here's what I saw, all of which I'd recommend:
1) Canned Hamlet. Fun, energetic comedy. What Fringe comedy should be, prepared but with enough room for some improv.
2) Zombies. One man show written and performed by some English dude. Once i got over the disappointment of there being no actual zombies on stage, I rather enjoyed this play.
3) Shock Corridor. Take a B-film from the 60s about a newspaper reporter trying to win the Pulitzer Prize by going undercover in an insane asylum and solving a murder. He convinces his girlfriend to pose as his sister, there are nymphs, and crazies and, of course, shock therapy. Wild, incredibly bizarre play adapted and directed by George Toles. Brilliant!

I'll write more about these plays later on, as well as my two cents on Kevin Smith's Clerks II, which I saw this afternoon at a matinee with 5 other people, sitting spread out, avoiding making eye contact with each other. I can only imagine that this is what going to a 70s porn theatre was like.

There's no telling where the money went

Amusing morning incident: well, I was waiting for my magic 36 bus early this morning and a car stops at the red light right beside me. The guy driving was wearing a bandana on his head, the windows of the car were rolled down and he was blaring his stereo. And he was leaning. You know what I mean. Pretty cool, no? Well, it might have been if his car wasn't 98 Chrysler LeBaron and if the music wasn't Robert Palmer. Simply irresistible.

I want to be adored

Right. It was a stupid day at work. When my boss showed up with his 8 year old daughter and said, "Mike, you get to entertain her today" I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not (he was, it turns out, though I did have to install her Arthur on one of the work computers to keep her busy).

I also had to go into one of our author's office to try to find some file he supposedly emailed us back in January. His office is only a few doors down, and he's been sick for months. I'm sure I was the first person in that room since May. And clearly he had no premonition of his illness - there was a used syringe lying on the desk, the coffee pot was filled with moldy coffee (which I know from experience takes a long time for regular coffee without cream to go). Then my boss handed the cell phone to me so that this 400 year old author could talk me through his computer, which, let me tell you, is not a good way to spend your time. He kept describing things that weren't there (some other explorer icon on the desktop? - I found two, neither of which did what he said it would do). In the end I did I search for all word documents and went through them, one by freakin’ one. Good times.

Deliver Col. Sanders down to Davy Jones' Locker

After picking up my wife at the airport on Saturday morning we decided to go and see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Really, it was more an attempt to escape the blistering heat than any deep desire to see Johnny Depp, but I remember liking the first movie. Well, I remember seeing the first movie anyway. At least I thought I did. When this new movie started, characters kept appearing and other characters would say things like "I see you're back"... and I realized something: I haven't the foggiest idea what happened in the first Pirates movie. Other than the three main stars (Depp, Orlando Bloom, and the adorable Kiera Knightley) and Geoffrey Rush, I couldn't a single other character. As I watched I realized I couldn't remember much of what had happened either - the Black Pearl, prison escapes, engagements... they're all referred to, and I'm sure they happened, but I don't remember. This realization has caused me great anxiety. If I can't remember film plots, I really don't know what good I am to anybody.

As to what I thought of this second Pirates of the Caribbean movie, generally I was unhappy with it. Yes, the sets were cool, the actors good, and the effects were top-notch. But the story left me feeling like this was just an appetizer, not the main meal you expect of a feature length film. Actually that's a good way to describe what I felt like leaving the theatre: still quite hungry; not full, not satisfied. It was like someone invited you over for dinner, promised you a huge feast and gave you crackers with cheese, nicely dressed up crackers and fancy cheese, but crackers and cheese nonetheless.

I'd heard the day before that it ends with a bit of a cliffhanger, obviously setting up for the third installment. However, about half way through the film, I realized that they weren't going to resolve much of the plot of this film. Sure enough, almost everything is left up in the air. It felt a little like watching a pilot for a television, much of the material was setting up things to come in the next film. Which, frankly, is a bit of a rip-off as there really wasn't enough plot to cover this film. Much of the action sequences felt like filler material and like we were going over the same ground again and again. How many times can someone else grab the object everyone's been searching for to prolong the swordfights?

While I have long been down on the whole Star Wars franchise, I think the best second of a trilogy has to be Empire Strikes Back. And naturally my tendency is to compare second parts of trilogies to it. Empire leaves just enough unresolved storylines (what happens to Han) to make you want to go back to see what happens, but resolves the major plots of that particular film. You don't leave Empire feeling like you've watched a 2 hour introduction for Return of the Jedi.

Wondering where the lions are

I'm discovering that I have an exceptionally low tolerance for bad commercials these days. Many's a time I find myself yelling at the television, "Who came up with this crap?"

I'm not quite sure what's at root of this anger. Maybe it's knowing that someone, somewhere, was paid an incredible amount of money for coming up with concept I know I could've come up with drunk, bouncing on a trampoline and trying to recite all the provinces of Canada in alphabetical order. For example, the government of Manitoba recently spent $5 million for the slogan "Manitoba: Spirited Energy", which has got to be the most nonsensical thing I've ever heard in my life. What is "spirited" energy? How exactly does "spirited energy" differ from regular old, run-of-the-mill energy? I mean it's ENERGY - isn't it already spirited by the fact that it's energy? Have you ever heard of lackadaisical energy? No, of course not. I think the slogan should have been more in keeping with the attitude of the people who live here. I propose they re-consider my suggestion Manitoba: we don't really suck that bad.

And all this leads me to the wonder that is modern advertising. There are two commercials, in particular, which, I believe, have given me a slight brain aneurysm. The first is for the new Burger King stacked burgers (Mmmm, more processed meat). The premise of the commercial is that these burgers are manufactured by little people… you know, dwarves. Maybe they’re supposed to be elves, like Santa’s workshop, I’m not really sure and I don’t think it matters. Whatever they are, they’re the butt of the joke. The one fellow gets a burger dropped on him. Are we supposed to think to ourselves, watching this at home, “Oh, look! That little guy was crushed by a hamburger… And that's made me a bit peckish. I could go for one of those.” You see, I’m not really sure how Burger King thinks that ridiculing little people is going to sell their stupid burgers. I’m sure that there’s not a lot of work for little actors – there was that one episode of CSI and there are probably a few Wizard of Oz revivals here and there – but was this job really worth it?

The second one is older one that I thought had run its course, but seems to have reared its ugle head once more. It's for Bailey's Irish Cream. A group of ridiculously attractive people are sitting around a campfire, sipping elegant glasses of Baileys and roasting marshmallows, when all of a sudden one of their marshmallows catches on fire. Panic-stricken, which of course is always a good thing when fire is involved, the poor, thoughtless girl sticks her flaming marshmallow into the drink of the man sitting next to her. Another guy, obviously some sort of rocket scientist who has come along on the camping, sees this and decided to purposely ignite his marshmallow in order to put it in some other girl's drink. As the commercial ends everyone is having a wonderful time with this new discovering, setting their marshmallows ablaze and dunking them in glasses of ALCOHOL. Now, was I the only person in the world who paid attention when the Fire Department came to visit schools? Isn't alcohol an accelerant? So, is advocating of the mixing alcohol and fire really the most responsible thing that the Bailey’s company could be doing?

Here she comes now

It took some effort on my part, but I managed to track down this film (and if you don't think going into a store and asking people for a film called "A Cock and Bull Story" is effort, you're just wrong). I've loved Winterbottom's previous films (Jude, 24 Hour Party People) and I love this cast, but wasn't able to catch it when it played Winnipeg for three minutes.
Simply, this is a adaptation of an unfilmable novel. I know the term "unfilmable" has been used to describe a number of movies that have been sucessively filmed - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Mrs Dalloway spring to mind - but I can't think of more complicated, cyclical narrative than Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy .

The film is absolutely brilliant, creating another layer to the narrative by including a behind the scenes plot. Some people play themselves, some people play characters. I wish I could write more about this, but, frankly, it's too damned hot here, I'm sticking to my chair and sweating on my keyboard. I don't wanna electrocute myself.

I saw my head laughing, rollin' on the ground

I can honestly say that this is a question I have given absolutely NO thought to before.

You Are Duck

Exotic and unusual, you are a bit of a rare bird - literally. You're known for being soft and succulent, though at times you can be a bit greasy.

What Kind of Meat Are You?

Someday, everything is gonna be smooth like a rhapsody

Well, it's been a completely, crazy jam packed weekend within adventures and in-laws and butter chicken. So, I thought I'd stop by and drop some notes and let people know what's what in the (not really that) exciting world of Mike.

Rachel's parents arrived on Friday afternoon some time Rachel and I had a wedding to go to, so we all ate supper together then went our separate ways. Let's be honest here: I like weddings a lot more than funerals - I'm tired of funerals. And this wedding was very nice and a lot of fun. The bridesmaids weren't dressed hideously, the bride sang a surprise song, and the reception was relaxed and social. Saw some people I hadn't seen in a while, which was nice; ate, chatted... and left before the dancing, but that's probably the best thing for everyone as I likely would have injured myself or someone else.

On Sunday we drove up to Bird's Hill Park to enjoy the wonder that is Folk Festival. After returning to the house a few times to pick up extra sweaters (it was a bit chilly in the morning) we finally made it to the park by 11 or so. The first thing we caught was a workshop of Celtic Franco-phone bands - a little odd a combination, but the two bands were great and played together with gusto. I was a little surprised to learn to one of the bands is from Regina. Didn't realize that Regina had any French people... maybe they keep them hidden away with the Aboriginals?

Next, we caught a set with Doug Frechette, the Wailing Jennies and the Doug and Jess Band. I wanted to see this set, as the "Doug" of "the Doug and Jess Band" was the first professor I TA'd for here at the University of Manitoba. He's retired now and has devoted himself to playing and performing music, mainly bluegrass. This was a brilliant set, with a steady mix of alt-country, bluegrass and folk. The only problem was the workshop was called "Getting Hairy on the Prairie" (seriously, who thinks up shit like that?), which host Frechette repeated every time he took the mic. Note to future hosts: if your workshop name is stupid, you are not obligated to repeat it over and over. In fact, it's best to just never mention it.

Luckily, it had warmed up considerably by this point. My mother-in-law, however, remained wrapped in a blanket for most of the day. Cue menopause jokes.

After this we headed over to a spoken word workshop with Ridley Brent, Belieze dub-poet Leroy Young, the aptly named Tons of Fun University (T.O.F.U.) and the incredible, must-be-seen-to-be-believed That 1 Guy. This might have been my favourite workshop, even though I'm not a huge poetry slam-fan. The groups mixed well, helped each other out. Young's poetry was lyrical and more obvious serious, Brent's more narrative driven. One of the guys from T.O.F.U. brought the house down with an angry, ironic, and topical poem - the line "Oh say, can you see... who fuckin' jacked me" got a loud cheer and the poem itself got a 3 minute standing ovation. That 1 Guy closed the show with a demonstration of the incredible range of his "wacky instrument, the 7-foot-high Magic Pipe (a homemade, two string contraption that serves both rhythmic and melodic duties)." As his closer he played something akin to Stomp-y techno, with beat-box backing and odd percussive sounds that you might hear on a club-mix. All of a sudden he breaks into a rocking cover of "Smoke on the Water." The audience went nuts. After playing "Smoke" for a while (during which the Magic Pipe started spewing smoke) he switched seamlessly to twangy bluegrass. Incredible.

After an informative workshop on "Appalachian Education" by Tony Trischka and Mike Seeger (Pete's younger brother), which was noteworthy because of a song about a horse race and the copious amount of pot smoked by the group next to us, I went to check out the shops while listening to Afrodizz play a few dozen yards away. Afrodizz is a fun band, reminiscent of the old Shuffledemons, but thankfully without the gimmicky wardrobe. Were I prone to dance, this would have been the band I danced to.

The Main Stage concert that evening was Richard Thompson, Ferron, Rickie Lee Jones, Mike Seeger and Bruce Cockburn. Thompson was great, an incredible musician and lyricist; Jones was solid (except when she spoke - she sounded like an airhead, which I know she's not), but Bruce Cockburn was incredible live. His set was worth the price of admission alone. I think I've dismissed most of Cockburn's material because of his heavy-handed use of synthesizers on his studio albums. I knew "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" was an important song, I appreciated the politics of "If I Had a Rocket launcher"... but, I haven't paid attention to most of his work. Last night, with the songs stripped down to acoustic guitar and voice, I heard them for what they are.

Of course, the best and worst part of Folk Festival is the audience. How such an eclectic group of people manages to get along for so long is beyond me. Why so many people feel the need to sit down next to you and talk all the way through an act, usually telling the person they’re talking to how much they love music and how they’ve been coming to Folk Fest for so many years….

And then there are the freaks. The neo-hippies, the throwback hippies, the dudes in kilts, the women showing way too much skin, the guys showing even more skin… I am a little curious to know how some of those people operate in the real world. I mean, you know some/most of them are playing the weird up for the weekend, because Folk Fest is one of the accepting places in the world: the young guys likely only wear their sarongs for this one weekend; older guys drag out their beads and walking sticks for Folk Fest... but not all of them can be playing. There was one older guy in all tie-dye dancing away. I don't know if he was on something, but he was feeling the music. He didn't look like this was an act. So where does he go the rest of the year?

It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves

All right - stole this off someone else. Bolding the books I've read. Why? Because one of my gentle readers may, one day think to herself, "I wonder if Mike's read Lord of the Flies. Now you know. For the sake of my own nerdiocity, I have noted (*) titles I have read multiple times. To protect my nerdiocity, I have not indicated how many times.


The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger *
The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy - Douglas Adams
The Great Gatsby - F.Scott Fitzgerald *
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter 6) - J.K. Rowling
Life of Pi - Yann Martel
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story - George Orwell
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
Lord of the Flies - William Golding - and I never intend to!
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen *
1984 - George Orwell
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Book 3) - J.K. Rowling
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Book 4) - J.K. Rowling
The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter 5) - J.K. Rowling
Slaughterhouse 5 - Kurt Vonnegut
Angels and Demons - Dan Brown
Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Book 1) - J.K. Rowling
Neuromancer - William Gibson
Cryptonomicon - Neal Stephenson
The Secret History - Donna Tartt
A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Book 2) - J.K. Rowling
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte *
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Ender’s Game (The Ender Saga) - Orson Scott Card
Snow Crash - Neal Stephenson
A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving *
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C.S. Lewis *
Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien *
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte *
Good Omens - Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman
Atonement - Ian McEwan
The Shadow Of The Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
The Old Man and the Sea - Ernest Hemingway
The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood *
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Dune - Frank Herbert
The Unberable Lightness of Being - Milan Kundera
Hey Nostradamus! - Douglas Coupland
The Nature of Blood - Caryl Phillips
Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules -Ed. David Sedaris
I Know This Much is True - Wally Lamb
Empire Falls - Richard Russo
American Pharaoh: Mayor Richard J. Daley - Adam Cohen & Elizabeth Taylor
Devil in the White City - Erik Larson
Seeing - Jose Saramango
White Teeth - Zadie Smith
Sophie's World - Jostein Gaardner
Ursula Under - ingrid Hill
Mountains Beyond Mountains - Tracy Kidder
In the Time of the Butterflies - Julia Alvarez
God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy
The World According to Garp - John Irving *
Great Expectations - Charles Dickens *
The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks
Metamorphosis- Franz Kafka *
Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
The Stainless Steel Rat - Harry Harrison
The Key to Rebecca - Ken Follett
How to Practice - the Dalai Lama
Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett

Made from Annie's depair

It's about 2:30 on a Thursday afternoon and I'm tired of working. Today's a thesis day, so it's a lot of reading and writing about child neglect in post-war England (in other words: "fun, fun, fun").

It's so incredibly cold in my office today. It's like 31 degrees outside and here I sit in jeans and a sweater! Now I'm all for air-conditioning, but, like so many good things in this life, it needs to enjoyed in moderation. If you can safely store milk in your office, chances are it's just too damn cold.

I would venture outside to warm up (it's a lovely, sunny day here in Winnipeg) but unfortunately mini-University started up this week. Mini-U, as it's called by people in the know, is the U of M's summer day camp program for children. Kids can partake in any number of different programs, many revolving around a particular faculty or department. I know there used to a little Lawyers camp... thankfully that was disbanded.

What mini-U REALLY means is that the campus is overrun by thousands of obnoxious twerp-campers and the way-too-happy-to-be-working-with-children instructors. It's hard to walk anywhere without stepping on four or five kids and their backpacks, lunchbags, swimming clothes or whatever their SUV driving parents have sent along... and despite what some of my gentle readers might imagine, I don't actually enjoy hurting children; I just don't like them that much.

The children are dragged all around the school in the hopes of doing something fun. I can't imagine that they ever get to do anything fun - all the children look bored and surly. Come to think of it, I'm bored and surly. Maybe I'm actually at mini-U and I don't realize it.

Got one note to last all week I'll carry on regardless

I can't believe that it's July already. Man, where does the time go? If I could keep time in a bottle, I think I use it to get back some of that wasted Maury Povich time.

It was Canada Day weekend here in the great white north. We didn't really get up to anything special. Typically Canada Day celebrations are marked with folks dressing up in red and white, setting off fireworks and drinking beer. Only one of those remotely appeals to me. I'll let you guess which.

I did, however, get a chance to check out Superman Returns on Friday afternoon. I must say, I've had low expectations for this movie. My brother-in-law saw it earlier in the week and dubbed it "flawless." My expectations spiked just enough that when Rachel asked if I wanted to go, I said yes.

After some of the world's WORST previews (who gives the Wayans Brothers money to make movies?) the film began with the familiar rift of John Williams' "Superman theme" and employed the same credit sequence of the previous Christopher Reeve films. And I felt somewhat at ease. Unlike Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins, which essentially rebooted the Batman story, this Superman film is presented as a sequel to the Christopher Reeve films (well, at least Superman and Superman 2... there was no mention of either Richard Pryor or questing for peace). However, I couldn't help but feel the film was more a remake-cum-sequel: while back story had Superman saving the world before going away, his reintroduction to Metropolis was strangely reminiscent of the events of the 1978 film.

HERE BE SPOILERS!!!

We begin on the Kent farm; Superman crashes back to earth and is found by Martha Kent (in the 1978 film Jonathan Kent dies of a heart attack when Clark was a teenager). He goes from the farm to Metropolis and the Daily Planet. Though this time he is returning from a leave of absence, there's the same fumbling, bumbling Clark trying to figure out his surroundings. The first appearance of Superman is to safe Lois. In the original he saved her from a helicopter accident, this time from a plane/rocket malfunction. There's even a recreation of the famous Superman/Lois flight over the city scene. Lex Luthor's plan is almost identical to his plot from the first movie, involving destroying a large part of the continental United States, this time the East Coast as opposed to the West. He has a sympathetic moll (Kitty as opposed to Miss Teschmacher). There are differences, to be sure, the main one being Lois's fiancé and child. This creates the allusion that you're watching another movie, that things are different, but how different are they? Yes, the special effects allow for more spectacular things to happen, but the plot, like Superman himself, is solid and familiar. We know where it's going to go; we trust it because we've seen it save the day before. Unlike Batman, who has varying shades of grey and black, Superman is straightforward red, yellow and blue. He's simply good, simply honest, simply true.

Head on down the road to somewhere

It's been a pretty crappy week here in the (not really that) exciting world of Mike. The other day we got a phone call - a great man and a dear friend passed away. I knew John Braun and his wife Esther first through church, then through working together at Donwood manor here in Winnipeg a few summers ago. John and Esther were caretakers there and showed me the ropes. They were generous.

John had one of the deepest, loudest voices I've ever heard. Never scary-loud, always warm and friendly and inviting. It was perfect for reading aloud. Wheverever he would see me, he'd smile and call out "How you doing, Michael." Part of me is sad I'll never hear that again; another part of me knows I'll always hear it; in fact, I can hear it now.

The other crappy news is that an English professor, a fixture in this department, is not long for this world. Robin Hoople had retired from active teaching before I arrived at the UM, but his door was always open and he was always interested in how people were doing.

What in the world has happened to me?

Seems someone came along and pooped on my pity-party. It's funny that when you feel yourself getting down with stupid stuff, something comes along and makes you realize how meaningless it all is. For me, it was an email I got a few minutes ago: my sister's going to Arizona.

Now some people might think, "She's so lucky. Nice hot weather." Others might think, "Ugh, hot weather." But I haven't thought much about stuff like weather (other than to type those last two sentences. My sister's going to Arizona for a reason... to battle her eating disorder. And I can't imagine being more proud of her.

It's not a love, it's not a love, it's a love song

As Cindy Lauper said, "Confusion is nothing new."

I find people genuinely confusing. I mean, I'm not a stupid person, I don't think, but shouldn't I be able to figure out people's likely moods and attitudes based on previous conversations and encounters? I mean, if someone almost falls off their bike waving to you one day, is it unreasonable to assume they'll, I don't know, talk to you, treat you human, another day?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not looking to overthrow the social order and have everyone be my friend; I'm not trying to thrust myself in the popularity spotlight: I just want a little consistency. Example: with my wife's 2 month stress-leave sabbatical, I won't see a whole group of people. You think telling tell people "won't see you until August" might have registered something a bit more profound than the "Oh, really?" I got.

Meh, whatever. So, it's full speed ahead on the thesis. My advisor seems to really like where I'm taking this whole project. He's been amazing with the encouragement and the suggestions. I not only feel good about it, I don't even have a sense of dread. The last conversation left me excited. For the first time in a long time I felt like I was doing something exciting and interesting. For the past few months whether people ask what I'm writing about I feel like I'm going to put myself to sleep describing it. Right now I feel pumped. Well, as pumped as I ever feel.

It'll all work out eventually, Better off with him than here with me

It's a gray day. The sky's overcast. It might be raining. I can't tell for sure.

I'm sitting here in my new office. It's a big, bright room over looking much of the university. My desk faces three large windows. With the gloomy day, it's not too bad, but yesterday, with its abundance of sunshine, it was a little like staring into the sun. I didn't get much in the way of natural light in my hovel (or "hole" - thanks Abby) of an office.

Along with the sunshine, I have a little round conference table and 4 chairs all to myself. I don't foresee any visitors, so maybe I'll rotate the chairs myself so that at least they're being used.

And the Sunday shines down on San Francisco Bay

I made the mistake of dating myself the other day. I met a friend's boyfriend after hearing about the poor guy for the better part of a year.
"So, you really do exist," I said. "I was beginning to think this was a Snuffleupagus thing."
I was met with a confused "Snuffleupaguses aren't real?" from my friend... And then I realized how things change.

See, when I watched Sesame (back in the 70s) Big Bird was the only person on the block who saw Snuffy. The adults would constantly (and conveniently) walk out of the room just as Snuffy appeared, teaching an entire generation of children frustration and disappointment. I'll never forget the episode that a sleepwalking Snuffy was spotted by Bob, but, alas, Snuffy had a sheet over his head (at least I think he was sleeping, maybe he was on his way to Klan rally) and Bob's description of a "big, white creature" didn't match up with Big Bird's friend. This same bait and switch technique was also employed on the Canadian hit "The Polka Dot Door" with the elusive Polkaroo. The main difference, however, was that the one host who stepped out actually believed in the existence of the Polkaroo and was disappointed not to have seen it... him... whatever the heck it was supposed to be.

Snuffy wasn't seen until 1985. I don't know if the Polkaroo was ever seen. When Snuffy's existence was finally revealed to the other characters it had something to do with abuse and child molestation, children not keeping secrets, or hanging around with hairy elephants or something... the 80s were a particularly paranoid time and, clearly, imaginary friends were not to be trusted.

But the whole Snuffleupagus thing got me thinking how much better my Sesame Street was then the Sesame of Street of later years.

We didn't have Elmo, a hyperactive plush toy with a speech impediment. Seriously, if Sesame Street is meant to teach children, what's the lesson with Elmo? Talk like a baby and people will think it's cute? We were happy to have Oscar, a green sock living in a trashcan.

We learned about death when Mr. Hooper died in 1982. Poor Mr. Hooper.

Luis and Maria? So the two Hispanic characters have to get married? When I watched Sesame Street Maria was hot for David, a black man who... actually just disappeared from the show.

There was no ambiguity as to Bert and Ernie's relationship. Grown men could be friends and roommates without labels and accusations.

Ah, simpler times.

At the dark end of the street

I read an article on Audio Commentaries over at AVClub.com It identifies the 15 different types of Commentators you can get on a DVD. As someone who likes audio commentaries, and usually treasures the insights of directors, actors and film critics, I found the whole thing pretty funny. There are "types" - the Academic, the Party crew, the Indifferent Cast members - but I think audio commentaries are one of the things that make DVD such a great format. Sure there's more than enough examples of directors with no sense of historical proportion talking about their films, or hacks who talk about their grade Z flick like it's Citizen Kane, but sometimes those make for fun commentaries too. So, in light of the article, I thought I'd run through a few of my favourite audio commentaries. So, in no particular order.

1) Brief Encounter, w/ Bruce Eder. The AVClub would cast Eder's thorough and insightful commentary into the Irritating Academic Category, but he adds so much to the film in regards to contextualizing the material.

2) Goonies, w/ director Richard Donner, Sean Astin, Josh Brolin, Jeff Cohen , Kerri Green, Corey Feldman, Martha Plimpton, Jonathan Ke Quan. Forget about the fact the 2/3 of these former child actors fell off the face of the earth; forget about the fact that Astin leaves part way through the film and NEVER COMES BACK: this train-wreck of an audio commentary is worth listening to in order to hear Cory Feldmen yell EVERYTHING HE SAYS! You'd think a guy who spent a good part of the 90s dressed up like his hero, Michael Jackson, would NOT be interested in drawing attention to himself.

3) "Buffy," "Angel," and/or "Firefly", w/ Joss Whedon. There are a number of different people who provide commentary on the Mutant Enemy titles (Marti Noxon, David Greenwalt, David Fury), but the episodes with Joss are usually the most insightful. Yes, the false humility-bordering-on-self-deprecating gets a little old, but when he's talking about the show it's clear that he knows what he wants to do and how to do it. Few shows developed season-long story-arches as well (or, frankly, at all) as Joss Whedon shows. To hear Joss explain his vision is a treat. If only he'd tell a little bit more about SMG! I mean, she's rarely mentioned in the commentaries (except how hard she works) and she's NEVER featured in the blooper reel... What's the story, Whedon!

4) "Freak and Geeks" w/ cast. "Freaks and Geeks" was a great show. The DVD set is worth a purchase for the audio commentaries if nothing else. Some tracks are basic "director/writer" stuff, but the real gems are the ones with cast commentary, because time and again people bring up the self-perceived sexual prowess of one Samm Levine!

Honestly, everyone mentions how Samm would always be found hitting on the ladies. That kid hit on anything with boobs. My favourite is a girl-cast only track where the ladies swap Levine stories. It is very, very funny.

5) Clerks w/ Kevin Smith, a bunch of other people you've never heard of, plus a very high, sometimes sleeping, Jason Mewes. Given Mewes long-documented history of drug abuse this probably should qualify as a cautionary tale of the dangers of narcotics... but it's just so damn funny. Recorded in a hotel room while they were shooting Mallrats, this commentary is like a high school party gone bad - people are incoherent, the stories ramble, no one seems to be at their best, and there are a bunch of people you can't figure out why they're there. I love that Kevin Smith has continued to use and include his New Jersey friends, but do I have to hear them on the audio commentary? There's one guy introduced as "the resident View Askew historian." Imagine being saddled with that title. Your friend creates a reasonably successful film and your claim to fame is remembering crap about that film? Ugh. Added to this are the innumerable references to people we don't know (or care about): DP Dave, Walt, the Skipper, Mary Anne, who cares? And a stoned Mewes nodding off and snoring during his own scenes is pretty funny.

It's the same old song, but with a different meaning since you've been gone

I've never been able to get down with things that are popular. I have unique tastes. I understand this, and have chosen to live with the consequences. Usually those consequences are minor: being unable to have even a vague conversation about shows like “Everyone Loves Raymond” or “Will and Grace” or putting up with raised eyebrows and snickering when I talk about shows like “MST 3K”. Nothing serious. In fact, the people I tend to hang out with have their own unique tastes – they’re not the same as mine, but we come from the common ground of understanding.

When I started university, I lived in dorm and the consequences are a bit more pronounced. "Trying" doesn't even begin to describe the experience. Whenever I'd go down to the lounge to watch something on TV, I was reminded that I don't have the same tastes that other people have: I don't watch hockey, I don't like sports, and the idea of watching porn in a ROOM FULL OF OTHER GUYS... well, let's just say that that's hardly my idea of fun. Occasionally I'd find myself alone in the lounge and able to watch what I wanted. However when one of my floormates stumbled in drunk, I'd be forced to explain why I was watching a samurai film, lucha libre or anime. "What's this *#!%?" became sort of a greeting.

As I was walking home the other night I was suddenly struck with a feeling I hadn't really felt since those days in Willison Hall - that I have nothing in common with the people around me. It was Sunday night, which, if you're from Winnipeg you know, is "Cruise Night"! People who have spent a lot of money supping up or restoring their fancy-schmancy cars drive down Portage Ave - some times fast to show off speed, some times slow to allow a good look. But it's so much more than just driving. People gather in empty parking lots all along Portage to WATCH PEOPLE DRIVE BY. They bring out lawn chairs, they sit in the back of pick up trucks, they bring the whole family out to observe traffic. As I walked past one parking lot there were three cars in a row with their hoods up. Tall burly men were having an animated discussion about carburetors and V8s ... when I realized they weren’t talking about that tasty vegetable juice, I felt very alone.

Call me crazy, but I don't understand the appeal of cruise night at all. I can drive- it's hardly one of my favourite things, but I do it - but the idea of driving around to watch other people drive around seems... silly?

Listen to me, baby, that's all you gotta do

My stupid back's better today. Okay, there was some grunting and grumbling while I tried to get out of chairs, but nothing too serious. And after sitting for a long period of time, I tend to walk like an old man (shuffling along with the grumbling) for about three minutes. I continued the pills and heat. I'll be fine by Monday, I'm sure. If not, then the dread Doctor.

Ever been really anxious to do something or see something, that when the chance finally came, you weren't sure you wanted to? I've being waiting over 10 years to see this film



It's a French gangster film called Le Samourai (1967) It's directed by Jean-Pierre Meville and stars Alain Delon as hitman with a rigourous code of ethics who is betrayed by his employers. John Woo cites it as the major influence on his masterpiece The Killer (1989) - imdb.com goes so far as to call The Killer a remake. Back in university I discovered John Woo (along with about a thousand other directors); I love The Killer, and I had always heard about how incredible and influential Le Samourai is. I knew I'd love Le Samourai too.

So I tried to track it down. And I failed. It wasn't the typical "Blockbuster fare." I did come across a tape of it in a store in Winnipeg, but didn't have time to rent it. When I returned, it was out and it remained out for weeks. I didn't want to get so crappy 3rd generation copy from a tape trader or a version taped off a French channel (CBC did air it once, but my French is limited to "Good morning" and "I like hamburgers"), I wanted as pristine a print as possible with proper subtitles.

This year, with some birthday money, I ordered the new Criterion edition of Le Samourai . It arrived Tuesday. I carefully unwrapped the plastic and removed the stickers. I opened the case and read the 48-page booklet. I put the disc into the DVD player... and couldn't bring myself to watch it. This has been a 10 year journey, a 10 year journey that will end the moment I press "play" on the remote control. Is the greatest joy in the wanting, the expectation?

Smack, crack, bushwacked

I threw my back out today. I'd like to say that it happened when I was doing something cool - lifting weights or saving small children from a burning building. Truth is it happened while I was refolding and straightening a blanket in the living room. I had just folded it all neat and pretty and set it over the new armchair; when I leaned over to smooth it out, my back spasmed and my legs went dead. It was like they just stopped working, like my nerves gave out on me. I went down, falling face first into the seat of the chair. I tried for minutes that seemed like hours to straighten out and stand up. Evenutally I made it to couch, where I could lay flat out. The next hour or so was fighting to stand, walk, sit, reach... I got a heating pad, I swallowed pills. Walking required carefully balancing on the wall, the counter and backs of chairs. I couldn't bend over to pick up the remote once I'd made it back to the living room. I couldn't reach for my drink once I sat down.

It's been getting better all night. I've continued with the heat and the pills. I've stretched. I sat in the chair that started the whole (so it knew that I didn't hold it responsible) and watched television. I can move pretty well now. It still hurts, but walking doesn't demand the same forethought. I can do it under my own power... it just takes a little more time than usual.

Lemme show you what it's all about

Four jobs I have had in my life:
1) I worked in the Thrift Store all through highschool
2) I've worked at various videostores in various locations
3) I currently work for the UM Press doing... stuff
4) I was teach English Literature

Four movies I would watch over and over:
1) Casablanca
2) Duck Soup
3) Seven Samurai
4) Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

Four places I have lived:
1) Toronto
2) Oshawa
3) Waterloo -in res for a year, then an apartment
4) Winnipeg

Four TV shows I love to watch:
1) Veronica Mars
2) Buffy the Vampire Slayer
3) House
4) and I'm rediscovering Mad About You.

Four places I have been on vacation:
1) Miami
2) England
3) Nfld
4) Nova Scotia - though I'm not sure visitng relatives actually counts as a "vacation"

Four of my favourite foods:
1) Spagetti - all day, every day
2) Chicken
3) these potatoes that Rachel makes
4) green currie Thai soup

Four places I would rather be right now:

1) Anywhere
2) Anywhere
3) Anywhere
4) Anywhere
.... you get the idea

Something won't let me make love to you

I still don't know what I think about X-men 3. I see the agruments of people who hated it (and I agree with them too), but I also see why people would love it. I still think I enjoyed it, but I'm learning not trust myself.

I finally finished Season 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer this weekend and started Season 7. Season 6 was like a kick in the gut, but a good kick in the gut. Beloved characters left or died or turned all veiny and apocalyptically evil. Now I've seen some of Season 7 already - we purchased them out of order, for a reason that's simply too long and conviluted to explain here, and I started with what we had - but I hadn't seen the first episode of that season. While Season 7 episode 1 of Buffy sets up some of the themes and the main villain for the rest of the season, in one of the greatest bits of Buffy, the new "big bad" becomes all the big bads from previous seasons - Adam, the Mayor, Gloria, Drusilla and, best of all, the Master - revealing itself to be the source of all evil. As these other villains were manifestations of this First Evil, this First manifests as them.

In the story Buffy returns (with her younger sister) to the highschool (now rebuilt) where the series began. Seeing a confident, mature Buffy walking the hallways of Sunnydale High made me realize just how good this show was. To effectively transition characters from highschool to adulthood so well is unheard of. I can't think of another show that managed to do this. Welcome Back Kotter, Saved by the Bell, even Degrassi all fall short of taking teenagers into their twenties and beyond while maintaining a certain quality.*










*I realize that the word "quality" is rarely used in relation to either Welcome Back Kotter or Saved by the Bell.

I should go to bed, but the voice in my head says, what the hell?

There was a preview for Superman Returns that ran before X-men: Last Stand. I'm having a hard time accepting a Superman who looks like Max Fisher.


Maybe I'll go see it if he uses his super-powers to try to win Miss Cross. Superman to Luthor "I saved Latin. What did you ever do?"

Of course, the Fisher-esque Superman aside, there's the whole, creepy thing with Marlon Brando coming back from the dead to play Jor-El again. My feelings are if you're going to come back to life for a role it should be one you haven't played before. Call me a traditionist, but if you're dead, you should be allowed to re-play a part. Even if you are Marlon Brando.

Keep your pretty head low

After supper (a tasty bit of Greek takeout), I sat down at the computer to check my email, and who should I have a message from? Oprah. That's right, Oprah emailed me. Okay, the message wasn't from Oprah herself - I'm sure she's far too busy picking books for her club to read or offering to pay for Jennifer Aniston's wedding - but it is from Oprah's people. The email invites me to tune into an upcoming show that will feature the legendary women of the Oscars. Apparently Emma Thompson and Meryl Streep will be appearing as well as "other big names for the Academy Awards."

Boy, does Orpah know me or what? There's nothing I'd like better than to sit around and watch as a group of Academy Award winning actresses sit around and pretend to be real people while Orpah shouts "You go, girlfriend" at the top of her really expensive lungs.

The biggest mystery as far as I'm concerned is why did I get this message at all? How did she get my email address? I don't watch Orpah; I've never been to her site; I haven't even bought any of her "Picks" at the local bookstore .Is Oprah now employing the same market savvy plans as the makers of Herbal Viagra and LostErectus? Did she think to herself, "I know what'll get more people to watch me: SPAM!"

Honestly, I'm more familiar with Oprah from SNL skits and the detailed reenactments my sister used to do for me over the phone. I've never understood my sister's bizarre fascination with Ms Winfrey. I figured if I ever did hear from Oprah the message would be more along the lines of "could you tell your sister to stop being so obsessed with me? I really don't want to be her friend." If the countless magazines and books that littered my sister's bedroom didn't make me tune in, if the two foot wall of tapes ambiguously labeled "Good Oprah" and "Really Good Orpah" around the ol’ family rec-room didn't pique my curiosity, then what's an email going to do? I mean, it didn’t even have any graphics. Come on, Oprah, have a little pride in your spam.

Let her talk about the things you can't explain

I realize I've been a little lax about updating this. Everyday I sit at my computer and think to myself, "I should write something in my blog." And then I can't think of a single thing to write.

There's nothing interesting going on in my life right now: no adventures, no profound insights into the world. That's not to say I'm not busy. I am. In fact, lately I'm obscenely busy with PhD stuff, but no one wants to hear about that.

So I'll respond to Professor Van Helsing's quiz which I found over at IMDB


1) What film made you angry, either while watching it or in thinking about it afterward?

The question seems to assume that only one film has made me angry. That's just not true. Films that have made me angry include: Star Wars Episode 2, The Portrait of a Lady, some Benoît Jacquot film that I saw at the TIFF. There was something recently that left me enraged... but it can't think of the title. Apparently I was so mad I've repressed it.

2) Favorite sidekick

Patricia Franchini (played by Jean Seabring)in Godard's Breathless.

3) One of your favorite movie lines

"Do I laugh now, or wait 'til it gets funny?"

4) William Holden or Burt Lancaster?

William Holden.

5) Describe a perfect moment in a movie

Well, the hill of beans speech at the end of Casablanca is pretty damn close to perfect.

6) Favorite John Ford movie

Um, I'm probably supposed to like Stagecoach more, but I prefer My Darling Clementine.

7) The inverse of a question from the last quiz: What film artist (director, actor, screenwriter, whatever) has the least–deserved good reputation, artistically speaking. And who would you replace him/her with on that pedestal?

I think Laurence Olivier is an extremely overrated actor.

8) Barbara Stanwyck or Ida Lupino?

Barbara Stanwyck.

9) Showgirls-- yes or no?

A hesitant yes.

10) Most exotic or otherwise unusual place in which you ever saw a movie

Sadly, the drive in. It wasn't very 'exotic, but it did smell like urine... and there was a lighting storm

11) Favorite Robert Altman movie

MASH or Gosford Park

12) Best argument for allowing rock stars to participate in the making of movies

Phil Collins in A Hard Day's Night. Actually, A Hard Day's Night makes a pretty good argument too.

13) Describe a transcendent moment in a film (a moment when you realized a film that just seemed routine or merely interesting before had become become something much more)

First viewing of Casablanca or Duck Soup.

14) Gina Gershon or Jennifer Tilly?

Well, they both seem a little crazy, but if I had to pick one I guess it'd be Jennifer Tilly.

15) Favorite Frank Capra movie

It's a Wonderful Life is the best of an outstanding body of work.

16) The scene you most wish you could have witnessed being filmed

Anything from Casablanca

17) Robert Ryan or Richard Widmark?

Widmark.

18) Name a movie that inspired you to walk out before it was finished

"Inspired"? I've only walked out of one movie that I can recall... that Benoit Jacquot film

19) Favorite political movie

All the President's Men or Putney Swope.

20) Your favorite movie poster/one-sheet, or the one you’d most like to own

I don't know... I guess the one for Kubrick's Lolita.

21) Jeff Bridges or Jeff Goldblum?

Bridges.

22) Favorite Ken Russell movie

Women in Love

23) Accepting the conventional wisdom that 1970-1975 marked a golden age of American filmmaking in which artistic ambition and popular acceptance were not mutually exclusive, what for you was this golden age’s high point? (Could be a movie, a trend, the emergence of a star, whatever)

Blah, I dunno... the evolution of the director.

24) Grace Kelly or Ava Gardner?

Grace Kelly.

25) With total disregard for whether it would ever actually be considered, even in this age of movie recycling, what film exists that you feel might actually warrant a sequel, or would produce a sequel you’d actually be interested in seeing?

Well, it's not Rocky 6, that's for sure. I think a sequel to The Breakfast Club would be tempting.

What if I ride? What if you walk?

A sincere thank-you to those who sent e-cards and birthday wishes. They were really appreciated. I mean it. But birthdays? *grunt* More freakin' trouble than they're worth.

What does it mean when the only actual, physical card you've received in the mail is one from a lady who babysat you when you were 2-3 years old? Should my blood family have figured out the mail system by now?

I did get the new Leonard Cohen book of poetry from my wife (who knows me too well) and for a brief moment I was transported to a time, several years ago, in Waterloo. I'd head down to Kitchener in order to scour the second hand book stores for Cohen's books. I have an impressive collection: Let Us Compare Mythologies, Spicebox of Earth, Death of a Lady's Man, and others whose spines are too far away to read. Eventually I had most everything. Cohen retreated to Mount Baldie. The trips to downtown Kitchener were never quite the same.

But if I could you know I would Just hold your hand and you'd understand

So, it's the Victoria Day long week. And we can all let our our primal "whoots" because a long time ago, a dumpy, sour-pussed old lady ruled England and 1/4 of the known world. And now, a century or so later, people in the New World can skip work to do "royal" things, like camp, Bar-b-que and drink beer. I mean, look at this face.
Doesn't it scream "Take a day off and party"?

Personally, I think Victoria Day should be a bigger deal than it currently is. Sure people get a day off work and that's all well and good, but aside from the increasingly infrequent firework displays, what sets Victoria Day apart? Nothing. If we're really being honest with ourselves, it's a holiday in desperate need of a make over - much like ol' Queen Vic herself. I think we need to add to the mythology of day in order to give it a little extra umph. Families should decorate their houses with lace and crinoline and hang larger portraits of Queen Vic. Not only are these portraits festive, it would give families something to put presents underneath. We could all gather 'round the fireplace for a glass of hot punch and a rousing round of Victoria carols. Of course decorations and songs are all well and good, but in order to lift a holiday from the mire of the mundane, work-a-day holidays (like Arbor Day and Remembrance Day), we need to target children.

Children should be filled with anxiety for a good month before May twenty-whatever, wondering if Queen Victoria be visiting while they were sleeping to leave them goodies (boiled sweets or humbugs) or coal. Actually, Santa still has the coal market cornered, right? What's worse than a lump of coal? Traditional English cuisine! Parents can threaten their chidlren all year long, "If you don't behave, Queen Victoria's gonna leave you nothing but Bubbles and Squeek."

That's right, I'm barely alive

I knew it! "Who could ever love a Beast?"

You scored as The Beast. Your alter ego is The Beast! But that is only a name... you are kind hearted and sweet, people just misunderstand you. Which Disney Character is your Alter Ego? created with QuizFarm.com

If every word I said could make you laugh...

A friend told me about a video with a Great White Shark jumping 10 feet out of the water while trying to get a seal... I watched the video.

Scary shark

I'm never going near the ocean again.

Happy birthday, Jaimie. Thanks for making me wet myself in terror.

And there's no one there to comfort you

I like television. A lot. And I watch a lot of television. Part of the fun of watching television are the season finales, where all the storylines of the season (however much or little there was in the way of an arch) come to ahead. They're either resolved or brought to a moment of crisis to entice you back next season: Ross will say Rachel's name at his wedding to Emily; Buffy will die to save her sister's life; high school students will graduate (usually with some sort of loud, raucous party).


So far I've seen a couple of decent finales, but the second season ending of Veronica Mars might have been the greatest finale I've ever seen. Somehow, in a mere 42 minutes, it managed to weave innocent nostalgia, heart-wrenching suspense and a sense of closure with the hint of mystery for next season. I've said it before to whoever will listen, and I'll say it again: Veronica Mars is the best show on network television.


On the other side of the fence, the Smallville season finale had me a little perplexed: where do we go from here? It wasn't bad per se, but I've really turned my opinion around on this show this season. I used to love it, watched all the DVDs, wandered around humming that damned catchy theme song to myself; now, I'm wondering how close the series is from collapsing under the weight of its own limitations. Clark Kent's coming of age has a limited shelf-live. He's already graduated high school, he's found out about his alien birth and the secrets of Krypton. So how much longer can they delay putting him in the blue leotard? This season cliff-hanger saw Lex being replaced with Zod and Clark trapped in the Phantom Zone. We know, cognitively, that most characters are "safe" from real harm because of their importance in the Superman universe. We know Clark has to get out; we know Lois isn't going to die in the plane crash. Okay... he needs to become Superman now. But of course once that happens the appeal of the show is over. And what happened to Lana? She can't take Clark's lies to protect her, but is fine with Lex's unique ethics? She's become a really annoying character this season; not even her obvious hotness redeems her anymore.

But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew

Spring in Winnipeg means one certain thing: construction. Every year, after the snow melts away, fleets of trucks and workers in dirty jeans and orange vests descend on the city to "fix" the potholes.

Now I don't know who plans this massive infrastructural undertaking, but I really have to question their wisdom when it comes to organizing the work. For those of you who don't know, Winnipeg is divided by a major river. There are several bridges scattered along the Assiniboine that one can use to get from one side to the other. If you're driving from the south of the city to the centre or, heaven forbid, the north, you have a few major roadways that lead to these bridges. And every year when the flowers are starting to bloom and the trees beginning to bud, city workers rip up all those roadways... at the same time. Rather than use the majority of the workforce to fix two or three major roadways quickly, the city decides to use small teams to start work on 20 different projects. So no matter which way you choose to drive, you're stuck while a huge cement mixer attempts an eighty-seven point turn. And, as an aside, a big thank you to the genius who invented the beeping device that lets people know when big trucks are backing up. Genius!

When I was in kindergarten I learned a number of valuable lessons that I have carried with me during my 30 plus years on this stupid, God-forsaken orb we call "Earth"; perhaps the simplest and most profound was this: don't move on something else until you finished with what you're doing. Ah, childish logic. You want to play with blocks? Well, you have to put the Magic Doodle away first. You want to tear up Waverley? You have to put Pembina Highway back in order first.

But hidden in his coat is his Red Right Hand

I haven't given much more thought to being evil, other than a passing thought during a conversation with a friend about a wedding. I assured her that quietly grumbling about particpating in something you don't want to do isn't evil... true evil would be making something up to get out of something that you know you should do. Or doing it, grumbling to everyone who will listen and ridiculing all parties involved while you're doing it.

I continue to be perplexed by the oddities of others. Nothing I really feel like sharing at the moment. Just thought I'd shoot that out there.

Hey you, out there i the cold

I had the weirdest thought today: what if I could just be evil? Not "mean" or "bad" or "grumpy" but EVIL - cartoonishly wicked. You know, steal candy from children, kick old ladies down stairs, take over the world. I wonder, what it would take? Do really evil people choose to be evil? Did Lex Luthor wake up one morning and say, "I think I should start being evil today. Right after breakfast"?

I think evil Mike could solve a lot of my problems. I wouldn't have to do nice things for people - lend them books, offer to proofread essays. Evil-Mike wouldn't offer to proofread people's papers. Or he would offer and then he would add a whole bunch of mistakes and evidence of plagiarism. Life could be so much simpler, if I was evil. People annoy me - have them killed in their sleep. People treat me badly - put their legs in cement and drop them off a pier.

I suppose being evil would mean losing a lot of my friends. But, on the other hand, I believe I would pick up some henchmen. Most evil guys have henchmen, right? I suppose that's like having friends. It's all balance, isn't it?