"Add a pinch of salt and some finely-ground negro men and women. You heard me."

If you're going to make a typo, you'd better make it count.

“We're mortified that this has become an issue of any kind and why anyone would be offended, we don't know,” he told The Sydney Morning Herald.

"We don't know" might be slopping on the ignorance a little thick there, Bobby. I think it's within reason's realm that grounding black folk could result in a raised eyebrow or two.

At any rate, I hope aliens 1000 years from now find an original copy of the "Pasta Bible" and are absolutely baffled by our approach to both race and religion.

The Miracle on Rice

To many Americans, our true north strong and free's obsession with tonight's big honkin' game is worthy of a jape or two.
Why's that? Simply put, the team, the fans, and the entire US Olympic Machine has nothing to lose. They've already won more medals at a single winter olympics than any other country ever, and their hockey team wasn't supposed to be here tonight. Seriously, utterly, literally, they weren't supposed to be here tonight.

Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen another 13-day stretch of better hockey. The tournament has been excellent, and whatever happens tonight, we'll all be thrilled and entertained. Go Canada, but if the US team with their top-of-the-world goalie and youngest-average-age-in-the-tournament wins, that's one hell of a story, too.

Embrace the game, friends. Should be one for the ages.

what is the last day of school?

the last day of school is the day when the weight lifts no, thats not it, the last day is the day when your not giving a shit becomes legitimate, when you can finally stop caring because you stop feeling bad about it because you know your education is worthwhile but its finally the day when you can celebrate not doing something worthwhile, for at least a while.
it's buying a bottle of tequila at 6 pm on a monday and feeling great about it
it's beside yourself looking forward to drinking said tequila with your roommate and muthafuckin champion of a homeboy mr. skylight or frank white or whatever the fuck he's called these days in the theatre tomorrow at two watching avatar.
it's the cute girl at toi, moi, and cafe (lovely place!) winking at you and pointing at the bottle of tequila sticking out of your pocket wishing you a fun night as she hands your cafe latte over.
it's the lets go to bifteck cause that place rules
it's the holy crap all of st. laurent is empty but bifteck is totally packed cause some australian girl is having her going away party and your one friend you run into there explains it to you holy hell she has a lot of friends out on a monday night in december
it's drunk walking home really having to piss (steven king said piss was the best word to describe piss, urinate or pee makes you sound like a total pussy) thinking that st urbs and moro is really not that far away.
it's whatthefuckaresomanypeopledoinginprovigoatoneinthemorning
it's lets be quiet so as not to wake up the roommate who has exam in the morning
it's im home time to pee
it's do i brush my teeth, yes because people will judge me if they find out i didnt
it's lets go to bed bernice
it's lets write a desserttickets post bernice
its hey look lets welcome stop having a boring tuna he accepted the invite that fucker is going to spain and will report from such
it's good night everybody
it's i get to go home very soon
it's good night everybody

But on a more serious note

It has come to my attention, just today, that The Big Bop and the Cameron House, two enjoyable and familiar Toronto bars-cum-music venues, will be closing pretty soon.

Yesterday, I read with significantly greater shock and horror that the Carlton Cinema is sharing a similar fate after today--its last day, December 6--when they'll be screening Monty Python and the Holy Grail with popcorn as its own Last Supper.

I don't live in Toronto most months out of the year anymore, so my sentimentality may be unfounded, even exaggerated. But I am sad. Mostly for the Carlton. Regardless of my support for the establishment as of late, and regardless of how much direct involvement I'd had with any of the three above mentioned venues in my meager near-21 years of being, it never occurred to me that they would die.

(I won't pretend to make this a universal message, because it's pretty specific; if you don't want to indulge my sentimentality, you can scroll away now, leaving with the simple message that the closure of these Toronto sites is sad and makes me feel old.)

I can recall a dark night in June of '05 (I think it was '05) when ICGYABL and I went to the Aquabats show at the Reverb and Bernice slept through it; or when some of us saw Juice Money Orchestra at the Kathedral, immediately surprised at how not-shitty they were. There was a time when some of us stumbled, underage, into the Cameron House, never carded, and ICGYABL bought a CD from some hip indie-folk four-piece on a whim. Perhaps most importantly, I can remember going on several--and I mean several--dates at the Carlton, and seeing some of the best films of the last five years there.

It's inevitable that venues close, money gets tight, and the Capital-M-"Mainstream" wins out over smaller film and music spots. I am not surprised that these venues have finished, nor do I think it's for the worst that they did. Mostly, what is affecting me is the realization that moving away from home does not keep it preserved in a museum or cryogenic ice-chamber. I cannot return and find everything the way it was. Though I experience this every year, the Carlton's death was the final nail in the coffin of my childhood.

Soon I will be 21. That's adulthood no matter where you are on the map. The closer school gets to completion, the closer my summer jobs get to becoming life careers, I begin to ask: where is there stability?

Amster-DAYUM, son!

Greetings from Amstery Park, NJ. Some reflections on this great Dutch city for your enjoyment:

- Everyone here is attractive, slim and under the age of 50; all the men wear blazers and all the women look like they would dominate in bed.

- The one man I noticed over the age of 50 was wearing a tweed blazer with light blue jeans, a pink woven undershirt, a poofy red scarf and matching red socks with very nice brown shoes. His hair also made my own father's mop look like a crew-cut.

- Everyone here is very determined to get where they're going--cyclists will opt for a crash before they wince at intersecting traffic, I have not seen a car slow down once, and all the well-dressed men and women look like they're en route to the final stage of their spy mission.

- In spite of the above point, people are generally friendly, although one is likely sooner to experience the apocalypse than a waiter give you the time of day.

- The newspapers here make the Epigram look like the New York Times. Mind that I cannot read the content, but the oversized tabloid papers are just hard on the eyes.

- Couples will sit and smoke on a patio with seemingly nothing to do in the middle of the day. It's Wednesday, people!

I think that's all for now. More on this zany adventure as it develops. Tonight, jetlag sleep; tomorrow, windmills!

DOES THIS LOOK LIKE ANYBODY WE KNOW?!?!?

His Name is Chase Budinger, and he just declared for the NBA draft.

Here's Another.
And what the hell, One more.

Talkin' Bruce with George Elliott Clarke

And he's won the Order of Canada.

He came to King's to read from his newest and ninth book of poems, I & I, and partook in a little reception at the campus bar afterward. I discovered an old issue of The Watch (our university paper--of which I am now the Editor-in-Chief, by the by) in the office archives featuring an interview with him from 2001.

The Watch office now features the March 2001 issue hanging on the wall, sporting the phrase, "This is really bizzare! - George Elliott Clarke (2009)". Of which I am pretty proud.

If you ever get a chance to read his poems, I recommend it. He cited poetic inspirations such as Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, the latter of which we discussed for about five minutes at the reception while the few people behind me stood impatiently in line.

Turns out we're both big fans of "The River". Who knew?