Humour, Truth and Scribbles

(Shamelessly grabbed from 'Indexed')

A little light posting while I work on a Larger and Very IMPORTANT Entry. Ummmm...yeah. 

Anyways, Time has come out with it's Top 25 Blog List. And among the usual suspects, I was very glad to see this. It's funny, often poignant, keenly observed and high concept. I think Time called it "a one-trick pony with legs" which kind of nails it. I won't be surprised if this basic formula shows up in ads, if it hasn't already.

Go there. If you're like me, you won't escape for awhile. 

Comedy, Tragedy, Reality

Time was, entertainment was pretty straightforward and binary: If it ended with a wedding it was a comedy. Bloodshed. murder and mayhem just before the curtain? Well, that's your tragedy.

And that, pretty much, was the sum total of the entertainment experience, from Oedipus Rex through Rex Harrison. From Homer the Greek to Homer the Simpson, we got our extasis and catharsis from one, the other or some clever combination of both. Well, that tidy little two-mask model has taken a hit in recent years. And the punch comes from the bizarrely-named genre of 'Reality'.

That this has come to pass is obvious. The main reason is also well-known: compared to Dramatic Series or Sit-Coms, Reality is relatively cheap to produce. What I can't figure out is...what is it? And why do people watch it? 

Whatever the 'Reality' genre is, it's not Documentary. At their best, Docs are an analogue to the literary form of 'Creative Non-Fiction'. At their simplest, they're straight journalism. 'Reality' is neither. Mostly, it has antecedents in game shows (also cheap to make) and rock 'em sock 'em 'You're right there!' shows like 'Cops'. All pretty bad stuff.

So what do we get out of the third form? It sure isn't catharsis. The drama is really slim. How are we enlightened when, after suffering through 42 minutes of a 44-minute episode, we find out which pretty young thing will get the rose? This aside from  the fact that it's all about as genuine as the wrestling we used to be enticed to attend, as thirteen-year olds at the Global TV studio. Even then we knew it was goofy. 'Championship Wrestling' didn't have to be drama-ed up with ominous jungle drums, cheap tiki torches and 'alliances' between scheming competitors. Reality isn't even trying to be real. But the fact that it's hackneyed, maudlin and, well, unreal isn't the problem. Nor is the fact that everyone knows it's goofy.

No, there's something else at work here. Something voyeuristic, humiliating and moralistic. Think 'Intervention', where the addicted and afflicted are seen as they finally, finally, reach bottom and are 'rescued' by their concerned families while the tape rolls. That's entertainment? Apparently. And, taken to its awful, logical extreme - televised executions, say - it's pretty ugly.

But who, aside from the Taliban, would take it there? Why, Fox, of course. There's this new show featuring a tough sheriff down Arizona way. And we get to follow him as he keeps Law And Order by rounding up all kinds of 'illegals' should they have the grave misfortune of entering his jurisdiction. When caught, they're dressed up in B&W striped prison garb - I kid you not - and roughly paraded before the whizzing, whirring cameras. 

We're a million miles away from 'So You Think You Can Dance' here. This is using the plight and desperation of the dispossessed as entertainment. It's Klan-tastic!

The Greeks came to believe - albeit after much argument - that dramatic entertainment, whether the mask was happy or sad, could elevate us. I don't know what the 'Reality Mask' looks like, but the face behind it is definitely ugly.

Two Minute Warning

It's almost over.

Fitzgerald's catch in the 4th, holy holy. Warner's steady (but the cutaway to his wife in full prayer was...um...why?). Dockett, man, there's a reason why he has two D's in his name. But...

Harrison just gooned. That was kinda ugly.

That Cards play with the kick? That was like parliamentary arcana...what the..?

That penalty against the offense when Holmes caught that lob from the end zone...cheap.

But, now it seems like there's a little redemption. Holmes just caught one. With :35 in the game. Much deliberation, but, it's official: Steelers up by four. It's as good as over.

And, just now, Woodley turtled on the ball that Warner just....wha?...fumbled. Oh, Kurt, my friend, you shall know pain tomorrow.

Tick, tick, tick. 1st down with :05 remaining.

Spill the Gatorade.

That's VI for the Steelers. They won, but they didn't beat Larry Fitzgerald. He is amazing. Best guy on the grid tonight. He totally deserves the SBMVP. I bet they give it to Holmes, though.

Good game.

Update Type thing-y: Of course, Santonio Holmes got the MVP. A player on the winning team has won it every time except, I think, 1971. But I only tuned in half-way through the fourth, and to me, Warner and Fitzgerald totally dominated. And I think Warner needs Fitzgerald more than the other way around.

Left, Right, Centre

Or should that be 'Center'?

It seems to me, one of the new talking points a person encounters reading, watching or scrolling the news these days is this:

"Yes, Obama may be in, but you must remember that the Democratic Party in the U.S.A. is to the right of our Conservative party."

That's nonsense. It may have been somewhat true when we had a party called the Progressive Conservatives, of which I would happily, at one time, self-identify. Mind you, I would do so from what we once called the 'Red Tory' faction. (Those individuals have been purged - it's not too strong a word - from the current Conservative party, dominated as it is by a turnip truck full of Pitchfork Prairie Populists, Social Conservative loons and Calgary School Friedman-ites.)

To claim this current bunch is to the left of the American Democratic Party is hokum. And, as a talking point, I can't see the political utility, other than to suggest that our current government has more in common with the 'New Hope-y Coloured Dawn' Obama-crats then not. But that ignores a whole bunch of facts.

That American Democrats are big tent is a hoary cliche. But, it's true. Within the Donkey Camp, you'll find everything from LGBT Activists to Big Labour to Blue Dogs who, many in the party would complain, vote in lockstep with their colleagues on the other side of aisle. It's a complex gaggle of competing interests who often self-flagellate themselves in a herd to the mushy middle. And thus, somehow, manage to govern.

Red Tories would probably feel a degree of kinship with the right of the Democratic Party. After all, Red Tory meant 'fiscally conservative and socially progressive'. This is ideological real estate that I believe most people in Canada inhabit. The Red Tory saw things through a lens of 'Spend wisely, tax less and leave everyone the hell alone. Especially in their bedrooms and their businesses.'

But our current Krop of Konservatives have, heretofore, swooned in the ether of their own ideological flatulence.

Which brings us to the budget. Was it not just 60 days ago that the Finance Minister stood up in the House and, straining all credulity, claimed we were headed for a surplus? And that "Our stewardship has ensured that The Fundamentals are Sound®". Oh, and, we're taking away the public funding for your parties.

A sennet, a flourish of middle fingers and Exuent Stage Right.

Straight into pro-rogue. For a month-and-a-half. When they returned, that promised small surplus had become a $64 Billion deficit, quite possibly structural. Are they fibbers? Incompetent? Incompetent fibbers? WTF?

The reading of the budget felt like watching boy scouts who, encountering an elderly woman who needs a hand across the busy street, is picked up, flung and crash lands into a Canada Post box. "See", say the Scouts, "We helped her across the F'ing street." The budget version was, "Stimulus? Here's your GD stimulus. Gentlemen, ready your shovels. We're gonna save our previously 'fundamentally sound' economy with nail-guns and roofing tar for hockey rinks. Oh, and screw science." Then, it's back to the bar and high-fives, boo-yaa chest-bumps and triples all-around. "Hoo-hah. We saved our hides!"

A sennet, a strained flourish of tugged forelocks and a Keystone Kops-esque melee in all directions.

And that was perfectly okay with the opposition Liberals who, whether for strategic or altruistic reasons will move to support this dadaist collage of a budget. Lord help us all.

So, as a result of this fiscal Frankenstein, I will be building a fourth bathroom for my Liquor n' Ammo shop ('Shotz') . I will also construct a luxury pen for my dogs. Then I will do one victory lap at the newly-roofed rink. A cure for Cancer be damned!

Meanwhile, down in Washington, it seems they actually do want to invest in a 21st Century Economy. Naturally, there will be vocal obstructionism from the Limbaugh wing, pointless filibusters and much wringing of old white hands with mottely brown spots. But after all the flapping, a very simple conclusion seems to have been reached:

Left wing. Right wing, It takes both to fly straight.

Q, You and I!

I listen to a lot of CBC radio. A whole lot.

It's on while I work. It's on while I cook. It remains on for the dog when I leave. And the dog and I have noticed something.

'Q', the morning Ahts n' Culcha gabfest, hosted by Jian Ghomeshi, can be really annoying. And it really shouldn't be. After all, by virtue of its being the only daytime show of its kind on radio, it's attractive to anyone with a book, movie, album or idea to flog. So the show gets some real heavy hitters as guests. People any other show in Canadian - or North American, for that matter - broadcasting would kill for. There's live music in studio and pretty good regular 'sidebar' features.

The pace is snappy and the topics far-ranging. So why does it occasionally make me criiiiinge?

Then, one day it all became blindingly clear. I was driving to a meeting with a colleague. With CBC on the radio, of course. By way of nothing much at all, this colleague turned to me and said, "I can't listen to Q anymore."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Ghomeshi."

And I guess that's it. Well, not all of it. Because he's a pretty good interviewer. He's obviously smart, catholic in his tastes and reasonably well briefed by his producers and story whatsits. So he appears to be informed, engaged and engaging. Aside from the tortured opening 'essay' that always ends in some cute rhyme with 'Q", there shouldn't be an issue.

But there is.

It's the injection of Himself into seemingly every bloody story, guest and item. Here's an example: Some time just before or just after the inauguration of Barack Obama as preznit of the U.S., the opening bit was, as you might expect, about the significance of the event. Except it wasn't. It was about some tangential chance meeting Jian Ghomeshi once had with the then-senator. So it was about himself and his proximity to history and greatness. That's how it came across anyway.

Now there's no doubt that there was no shortage of pundiotic loggorhea about the big event. So a fresh take would have been great. And appreciated. But the 'Q' take, via its host, was about...its host. The more you listen to the show, the more you notice that it's not merely an occasional thing. Sadly, once twigged to this phenomenon, I find myself hearing the self-reflexive musings of the host's adventures at The Spoke Club or something rather than the Very Interesting Guest or topic.

So, I hereby motion that, until this grave matter of National Importance is remedied, CBC change the name of 'Q' to the more accurate 'I'. Meanwhile, we (me and the dog) will still be listening.

Post Billy Bob Update-y Thing-a-ma-jig:

I have to say, Mr. Ghomeshi's handling of musician and hobby-ist actor Billy-Bob Thornton was really quite remarkable. He was calm. cool and unflinching. I think that most of us, (well, all of me), when faced with such a confounding and sphincterous prescence would reach across the desk with hands in full-throttle-grip screaming "You're only famous as an actor and besides The Sadies do this kind of music way, way better".

So, yeah, full props.

Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt (1)

Anyone who has taken a look at the posts in this tiny, insignificant outpost of the digi-sphere may have noticed posts tagged with 'FUD'. Allow me to explain.

Aside from my semi-regular brain dumps here, the real intention of this space is to accumulate notes. Those notes, when sufficiently accumulated, will be compiled in a 'text' of some sort. Its ultimate form is, as yet, undetermined.

See what I'm saying? There's an insane, possibly futile mission here, a larger project. It's not as ambitious as, say, wiping the Liberal Party of Canada from the political landscape in latter day re-creation of the Punic Wars. But it does have its own humble scope. I'm just figuring it out as I go.

So the intention is to have these bigger themes - kind of chapter heads - and little subsets therein. For instance, 'RGB', 'ABC' and 'Mother, Virgin, Whore (MVW, for short)' are chapter heads. The fact that secret-ish, shadowy organizations like CIA, KGB and NSA have nice, little, three-initial names is a subset of 'ABC'.

'Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt' - or FUD - is one of those bigger themes.

FUD is used in both marketing and politics. And especially when the two come together. For the marketer, it could be as simple as the suggestion that the wrong toothpaste can lead to diminished social status. For the politician, it's usually grimmer: "Vote for my opponent and the terrorists will win." The purpose of its employ is always to keep your citizens - or consumers - on their heels such that every purchase or voting decision is filtered through a cloud of FUD.

Come Monday, when our pro-rogued parliament returns, the FUD will come fast and thick. It's already out there in the form of puerile radio ads brought to you by your friendly government. And in the wake of 'Regime Change' down south, those on the losing end have re-fueled their own FUD machine and sallied forth.

So, here at TTCIT, FUD is part of the Magic Number Way of Seeing the World®. And , as Bill O'Reilly might say in his vaguely menacing, McCarth-ese "We'll be watching".

Pictures are Nice (1)

Jem's Memory, 2007














Occasionally, I make pictures. This is one. It's worth a thousand words. At least, I could justify that quantity of artspeak trying to explain it.