It's been three days - what the fuck?

I don't even have anything interesting to say.

So here's a photo of a duck.

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?

Wherein My Mom posts about His Mom

My mother got Facebook, you see, and added my 18-year-old Israeli cousin.

Then she realized what News Feed was and got fed up.

She emailed me (subject heading: "help help help"), citing News Feed as a "Major irritation" and asking how to block certain people on the 'book. He updates his status too often! she says. He's always writing on his friends walls! He's posting his entire life on the internet, thinking people care! Imposing them to care! All the aggravations one could have with Facebook, she had.

So I told her how to block people, and she thanked me with a prompt response. Two minutes after her email, she sent another one:

"You know what's funny?

What if you're posting all this stuff about yourself, thinking people are interested and you have no idea you're being ignored.

How sad."

And I have to say, I agree.

Oh Baby, Sneeze On Me.

WHAT THE HELL!?!?

all i can say is.... Awesome.

In a futile attempt to do further research, i came across a pornography website called "Sneezing Beauties"
The World/Internet/Science is awesome.

easily influenced

my roommate left his copy of
bukowski poems
on our kitchen table.

i read it
and now i can't stop writing
like this.

Dear World: Please Stop Comparing Things to the Holocaust

I write this letter - addressed to you, dear World - after a somewhat recent Haligonian event caused a stir down at St. Mary's University, wherein a very religious man compared abortion to the Holocaust.

I couldn't help but be reminded of PETA's toss-around of the ol' slaughter. An apt metaphor for the killing of chickens, indeed.

In light of such comparisons, I make a public plea: Seriously, you guys, nothing is really comparable to the systemic murdering of six million Jews. Really. Maybe Rwandans or peeps from Darfur could pull it off. I would be okay with that. But please stop comparing things that are not the systemic murdering of six million Jews to things that are the systemic murdering of six million Jews. It's getting a bit trite, and people are starting to mock you behind your back.

With fury like the Holocaust,
MMTIF

When the Trickster Goes A-Pokin'

Hey Everybody! Check out This Video.

The very presence of two of the most esteemed American writers of all time, both who made their livings on social criticism, on the second-most iconic talk show of all time, is mindboggling. Yes, this was after Cavett made his switch to public television, a medium far better suited to Cheever and Updike than ABC, but I think you see my point.


What I find the most interesting is the mutual desire, the need, both of them reveal to move out of New York City. Despite their hatred of all things suburban (if you didn't yet pick that up, read Bullet Park. Chilling, truly.), they must return there, for it is their nexus. i suppose it speaks to the idea of comfort and home, and to the conceit that criticism is okay when you are understanding of your subject.

Steven King defines three types of writers: Those that are so bad they have no hope, those that are good enough to forge a career (he puts himself in this group), and those that are so good that they either are driven to misery by their own frustrations with their limits, or even their abilities. I came across this theory immediately after watching this video, and saw some parallels. Updike, certainly a brilliant writer, is laconic, social, eloquent. He is also humble and engaging, which are two words so far from Cheever that they're practically wearing a cowboy hat and kicking him in the face. It's in his turning away from Cavett, his obnoxious New England accent, and his unwillingness to discuss virtually anything that shows how profoundly uncomfortable he is with his place in society and literature. It's safe to assume that his mind is long lost at this point on self-definition and other matters.

I, too, have not seen The Reader

Best part of the Oscars, bar none.

Fuck Heath Ledger's crying family. Hugh Jackman screaming "I'M WOLVERINE!" downstage centre at the Kodak Theatre last night proved that the best shot the Academy's got is joining the quirky, self-aware status of so many other celebrities and performances these days.

It's that sort of "Adaptation-made-this-cool" self-consciousness of a medium in its own time and place--e.g. the Academy Awards during the recession; virtually any film with George Clooney post-Ocean's 11--that makes Hollywood not only bearable, but also a bit enjoyable. If Hollywood takes itself seriously enough to regard Oscar-winners as the best films of that year on a global, universal scale, then they're not just idiots, but also have their heads up their asses, and that shit makes people angry. It's alienating. But if they take the self-referential route of self-mockery and put Hugh Jackman's face on a baby--well, fuck, I'll watch that. Hollywood knows its place, and I appreciate that.

But Mickey Rourke was still totally robbed. WTF.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

BREAKING NEWS - MOVIES MAKE GOOD DATES, BUT ONLY SOMETIMES!

Oh journalism. Yoo so kah-rayyyyzeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

The man is the reason we eat bacon every morning

"Years ago, Americans grabbed toast and coffee for breakfast. Public-relations pioneer Edward Bernays changed that.

Bernays used his Uncle Sigmund Freud's ideas to help convince the public, among other things, that bacon and eggs was the true all-American breakfast."

We watched a documentary on the guy in a Journalism Ethics class this morning. I'm still kind of getting over it. He lived until 103 (died in '95), and is generally regarded as the father of PR.

The man hypnotized America into reinventing bacon. He is literally a bacontrepeneur.

Among his lesser feats, Bernays also made "green" fashionable in the 20s, made kids like soap in the 50s, and fueled the overthrow of the Guatemalan government in 1954 just to sell fruit.

I like the selling of the colour "green" the most. The man was hired by Lucky Strike cigarettes because they had a dilemma. Their conversation went something like this, I'm told:

Lucky Strike: Not enough women are buying our cigarettes... How do we remedy this?
Ed Bernays: Well, your packaging is green and red. No woman wears green; it's never been fashionable before. Change your cartons to another colour, and they'll have no problem carrying them around.
LS: Are you kidding? We spent hours designing this carton! It's our brand! No, no... just change the entire American fashion industry to match our cartons. It'd be easier.
EB: Oh. Okay.

AND HE FUCKING DID! Like... what the fuck?

I'm most amazed at how I've never heard of the man before. They say the best PR people are the invisible ones... obviously, otherwise you can see the puppet-master, the strings, if you will, and it ruins the show. But considering he manipulated American culture for the last 80 years, I'm surprised his name isn't more common.

And he was Freud's nephew. Which explains a bit.

This is the kind of stuff I'm glad I go to school for. I'd like to read a book of his, or his essay, "The Engineering of Consent". It seems kind of twisted--all about how the American people are vulnerable and intellectually lacking, made to buy things they don't need--but he was so damn successful it's scary.

Most importantly, I'd ask, Why haven't we learned by now? The Internet only complicates issues--for all it clarifies, it also muddles twice as much. Maybe we are really that gullible, and forever will be. Maybe that's why I'm typing on a MacBook now, and why we continue to shop in malls, smoke cigarettes and drink Coke.

"The engineering of consent is the very essence of the democratic process, the freedom to persuade and suggest."
- Edward Bernays

I guess that's why he started a war on Guatemala, and we're still in university.

PS Bernice, I lost my bacon-post-virginity. Happy now?

Bruce teabags cameraman; world watches in enjoyment

After just getting home from a friend's Superbowl party no more than five minutes ago, the first thing I did was Google search "bruce halftime crotch".

The amount of hits was remarkable. The fact that it's on YouTube already makes me happy, because that means we can all a) unite over how hysterical it is; b) unite over how awesome Bruce is; and c) all know what I'm talking about when I mention how I particularly enjoy expressions like "someone just got a crotchful of Boss".

But that was just the reason I started to watch the 'bowl--not the reason I stayed.

I'm not a "FOOTBALL!" kinda guy, but the fact that I was legitimately engrossed and entertained by what I understand was a particularly intense Superbowl means that I can appreciate sports as an entertainment medium (if we can call it a medium) as much as I can enjoy, say, Crank.

Though on a scale from one-to-Crank, I'd say this is only about a 5.

The point is that I actually enjoyed watching beefy men tackle each other man than I expected to (to preempt the gay jokes: this includes all that GHEY PR0N I WATCH LOOOOOL), though I hesitate to accept that it was because of the sport itself. In fact, I refuse to believe that. I could never watch the Superbowl on my own. It was fun because Leigh was a Steeler's fan, an apparently hereditary trait from his grandfather before him; it was fun because Dan was explaining to Ginny all the rules of the game and we talked about how silly they all seemed.

Which made me wonder if I could ever watch Crank alone. I like to think that I could, but if given the opportunity, I might turn it off out of boredom.

It's like a party where you're not just the only one drinking, but the only one even there. I don't think mindless fun can exist on its own--that it is a fundamental part of a friendship (or relationship, for that matter).

I acknowledge that I'd offend some (read: Bernice) by calling football, or sports as such, "mindless fun". Obviously there's thought gone into it--the plays are strategic, and the Superbowl was proof of that.

I guess I want to distinguish between a critical analysis and mindless watching. I concede that you can watch anything mindlessly or critically, so I'll avoid any arguments by clarifying that I, specifically, watch sports and Crank mindlessly.

Which narrows the question down to a question of mindlessness. If it can't exist when one is alone, then is it something we engage in with others, or is it something fundamental to any sort of relationship?

Can you be mindless alone? Maybe that's just masturbation.

Kind of like this post. Apologies for the verbal masturbation. I honestly just wanted to post The Boss crotch-sliding the cameraman at first. It was a fucking killer halftime show.

Rah-rah Pittsburgh, go Steelers go, and so on, and so forth.

Destination: Blogosphere

... Is "blogosphere" even a destination?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blogspace

"The term was coined on September 10, 1999 by Brad L. Graham, as a joke... The term resembles the older word logosphere (from Greek logos meaning word, and sphere, interpreted as world), the "the world of words", the universe of discourse."

Almost makes you forget that most of the blogosphere looks like this.

I'm skeptical--but, okay, ICGYABL, I'll bite. No better time to experiment than college years, right? New doors, new windows, yeah! Optimism! For a better future! Yes we can!

...

Now, where the fuck's my pancakes?

Brain Fuel

So, I'm sitting in an airplane, 30,000 ft in the air - halfway to New York. It's kinda bumpy. And I'm kinda sleepy.

I started reading Dr. Schwarcz's new book "Brain Fuel" and was initially a little bored because it just kept talking about old stuff. Then I turned to the back and started making my way to the beginning, and that's when things got interesting.(For those of you who don't know Dr. Schwarcz is the head of the Office of Science and Society at Mcgill, teaches a bunch of World of Chemistry classes, and has a weekly column in the Montreal Gazette, as well as a radio show in Montreal and Toronto. He's kinda awesome.)
In any case I learned the following things:

1. In the 1940's cellophane was named the third most beautiful word in the english language - after memory and mother.
2. Houdini thought that he could escape death - and left his wife a secret code before he died, and told her that he would try to get it to her after he died. He failed. She gave up after ten years.
3. There is a chewing gum called "bust up" that can apparently increase your bust size if you chew it, because it contains chemicals that can up the estrogen level in your body.
4. There is a US patent for a toy rocket that can be fueled by farts. There is no evidence as to whether this would work or not, but the only requirement for having a patent is that the idea is novel. In reality farts don't have enough combustible gases to fuel a rocket. Also, Dr. Schwarcz calls it an "anal rocket". I think that's hilarious.
5. The US military uses silly string to detect trip wires for explosives in Iraq. Since the silly strings is very light, it can show trip wires without setting them off. That's pretty ingenious.
6. Glass does not constantly flow. At least not unless you're at a minimum heat of 350 degrees celsius. The common misconception is due to the fact that old window panes are thicker at the bottom and have ripples. The reason for this is when flattening glass while blowing it, the glass would get a rippled effect, and the outside would be thicker. It made more sense structurally to put the thick part at the bottom.

EDIT: ZOMG! THE BLOGGER BAR IN DUBAI IS IN ARABIC! WHAAT?!