It's the Diva thing, I know...

I always thought Miss Piggy reminded me of Mariah Carey.


That's it.
Just felt like sharing.

Looking Spiffy

T.K.O.

Fresh Bread

True story.

Elections Canada

I know the current campaign down South is overshadowing our situation on the home front. I myself am guilty of closely following the Obama/Biden/McCain/Palin shennanigans. However, if anyone has forgotten, we Canadians are holding an election on October 14th. Our primary goal is to get the Conservative Party out of power. Unfortunately, looking at the numbers, we're looking at another minority government for Harper and the Conservative party. The reason for such a strange repetition of events given the political swing of change sweeping our neighbors to the South? Old people, and young people.

Old folks vote in record numbers.
Young folks don't get up to vote at all.

Last election, only 44% of voters in the 18–24 age group went out and cast a ballot.
Less than half, I ask you!

This is my reminder to you that voting is not just a right and a privilege, it's a responsibility you owe to your country. And it's easy as all fuck! You get a voting card in the mail. If you don't, bring your ID and a few pieces of mail with your current address to your polling station. Don't know where your polling station is? Look it up. The internet is a fascinating tool. Don't have a ride to your station? Guess what: you don't need one. Your station will be within walking distance.

So get off your asses, youth of Canada, because you are the future, and you should be helping to choose the direction it goes. Do your research, learn the party politics, and put your vote out there. It's not wasted. (though it would have meant more if any of you bothered to show up to vote when there was a national referendum on reforming the electoral system (Proportional Representation)).

I'll even make it a bit easier for you (in alphabetical order):
Bloc Québécois (leader: Gilles Duceppe)
Conservative Party of Canada (leader: Stephen Harper)
Green Party of Canada (leader: Elizabeth May)
Liberal Party of Canada (leader: Stéphane Dion)
New Democratic Party (leader: Jack Layton)

Here's a link to the Canadian Federal Election Debate for this year, in 13 parts (YouTube is a handy tool as well, folks. It's not just for angry video bloggers and funny animal clips).

So vote!
Get some initiative.
Show some interest.
It's your country too.

Inflation!

The parking at Brock is now $6.00 per day, up from $5.00 per day. This sucks! Am I paying an extra dollar to help pay for the remodeling done in the library lobby? I don't even use the library lobby! I use the 8th floor. That's where my books are. Are they not raping my wallet enough? This sucks. That is all.

Book Smell Bad!

So I just unwrapped one of my new school books: A History of Narrative Film. It's more exciting than it sounds, when perused in the right mindset, trust me.

It's the only text I bought this year that was shrink-wrapped.
Vacuum sealed.
Uber-packed for freshness.
Nothing gets in.
Nothing gets out.

And once the case-bound educational device within breaks free from it's polypropylene prison, there's no turning back!

Seriously.
Once it's out of the wrapper, the bookstore won't take it back. It's yours.

Sort of like unplanned pregnancy. Toothpaste out of the tube sort of analogies. One might point out that strategic use of coat hanger (or the more traditional route of going to a clinic (or would the former be the traditional?)) would allow for turning back at that point, but I would point out that you're just throwing out the toothpaste that would have been yours had you not wasted it down the drain. Toothpaste is a luxury item, people. Come on.

Anywho, I released my book and flipped through it's pages, deeply inhaling that new book smell, but alas, the aroma was tainted with the scent of chemicals! Chemicals, in my new book smell!

Was it the wrapping?
Did the wrapping seep a smell into the book?
Or was the book itself tainted from the start?
Is this the fate of all books?
Are there any new book smelling books left?
Have I simply not bought a book in a while?
Did the smell of all new books get changed while I was on new book hiatus?
Or is it just this particular book that's been affected?

....why does my new book smell bad?

Such a small pleasure can have a large impact when lost.
grumble, mutter, bitch, moan.

Une question, s'il vous plaît!

If I "illegally" download a bunch of songs by an artist then, after a listen, enjoy said songs so much that I go out and buy his/her/their C.D.'s until I eventually own his/her/their entire discography.....is it still "wrong"?

I'm saving the rainforest.

Woo.Hoo.

Niagara-on-the-Window-Shopping!

So, one day, my best buddy Elysia and I decided to go window shopping around Niagara-on-the-Lake. You see, we always drive through Niagara-on-the-Lake at night, when everything is closed, but never before have we perused the shops when they were open! Our adventure begins as every adventure should: with bubble tape.


We parked the car, and paid less for 2 hours than I do for 1 hour at Brock for class, and stumbled immediately upon a quaint little book shop. It had a you-don't-belong-here-you-bohemian-clumsy-pothead air about it. I feared touching anything.


They had some amusing shop names. Like....Liquor Store....and The Owl and the Pussycat. Hehee. El pussycato.


We went into The Name Tree, and politely asked the woman inside if we could pose with her armour! She politely allowed us to.


Caution! Art ahead.


Here...is a map. I took an extra photo of the Niagara Parkway. It's my cruise route. I love the parkway. The American side sucks though. We totally got the good side. We rock.


So check it out: there is a store just for Christmas swag. Just Christmas swag! All year 'round! Even in the summertime! Wtf?!


We then happened upon none other than the Beau Chapeau. Their hats weren't all that nice, actually. Some really fucked up New York funeral hats that Niagara-Fallsians could never get away with in a million years.


They had some good advice for the kids though:


Remember, girls: If you forget your hat, you can always flirt with your cigarette.


Okay, let us pause for a moment to observe the extent to which we have made fruit unhealthy. Below, are candy apples. Apples. Dipped in chocolate, and covered in - wait for it - fucking oreo cookies. How the hell are you even supposed to eat that?! You need to break off and consume ten oreo cookies before you even get to the thick chocolate layer surrounding what was once a nice healthy apple. My god, people! Just drink a jug of lard, why don't you.


We moved on from the oreo-cookie-fat-depository window to a store that has a lot of trees in front of it. Those trees had a lot of wind chimes on them. It was a fairly breezy day. The sound was....kinda pretty, actually. I like the sunflower, the bee, and the newt. So cute!! My goodness.


Once we entered wind-chimesville, we found some darling little mice statues. A boy and a girl!! The boy had a bowtie. The girl had a flower in her...hair...fur. You know, to differentiate mouse genders.


Beside the wind chime store, we found The Viking Shop, and the most fantastic umbrella handles ever. The orange umbrella had a little goldfishy floating in the handle! The yellow one had a little rubber ducky! The green one had a frog. Not a fan frog though. There was a blue one with a dolphin, but I'm not a fan of dolphins either. They remind me of a girl that lived down the street when I was a kid who used to go home to eat dinner and somehow get sauce on her forehead for us to look at upon her return. Bloody dolphins...


The restaurant, The Epicurean, gets photo props for their slogan: Purveyors & Servers of Fine Foods. Classy. Very classy.


Around this point I decided time was ripe for some statue humping. So I humped a statue. I'm not sure who it is...but I'm sure he's impressed that I'm humping his likeness. I wouldn't mind people humping my likeness some day.


On a side street, slightly beyond the statue, we found an awesome little store called The Silver Screen. They specialized in old movies, tin signs, and general awesome. I found The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari!! I didn't buy it though. I'm too poor for a $20.00+ dvd that I can just put on my Christmas list. Instead I bought a $4.00 Batman tin within which I might store my illicit materials. We did pose in front of a cute little Betty Boop statue. After that photo op, we noticed the sign that told us DO NOT TOUCH!!! Ah well, c'est la vie.


We cross the street after that. We were running out of time. I had to pick up my boy at work for 4:30 in Thorold. It's a ways away, drive-wise. We happened upon the post office. There's been a lot of controversy regarding it, as it isn't keeping with the towns quaint aesthetic. Fuck you, post office, what with your new bricks and such.


Along to happy! A teensy little store called Cute, the self-proclaimed home of the best darn pant hanger on the planet! We never saw it...we did see ourselves posing all cute in front of Cute though. On my camera. In playback mode. Aaw!


A little further down, a wonderfully bright hammock caught Elysia's eye in Ten Thousand Villages. The hammock was pretty sweet (and pretty expensive), but it was the brown bag sporting the descriptive words of "Brown Bag" on it that caught my eye. What an awesome bag.


At this point, we ended up running back to the car and speeding to Thorold to get there for 4:30pm, but not before making some memories and taking some pictures. Oh, life, how we love thee! This is Sabu, signing off.

Great Gorge Adventures

Today, instead of going to the gym, I decided to go for a hike on the Niagara Glen trails. It's basically rough paths that go down by the Niagara River. My adventures started out with pot, as many adventures do. I packed me a nice bowl. Then I smoked it. Then I figured I should fully document the bowl. So I took a photo of it. Then I got my swag together, threw the Coral's Magic and Medicine album into my walkman, and began my hike.


Step one: an 80 stair descent. There was a sign warning that one of the trails was closed due to falling rocks, and after studying the sign for a bit, I discovered that I couldn't figure out which trail they meant and I'd just have to take my chances. Good thing I wore my impenetrable toque of awesome.


So I wander on down the cliffside and begin my descent into the depths of...well, the gorge. And what do I see? A fucking McDonalds cup. I hate litter. I dislike litter when I walk by it on the sidewalk or on campus, but if you're littering in the gorge, you're just as asshole. A big, rude asshole. Don't smear your crap all over nature, buddy. If I can carry a ziplock baggy in my pocket for my cigarette butts, you can chuck your fast food fat trash in the proper receptacle, so conveniently located at the base of the 80 step stair. Moving on, I walked down some rock stairs. Yay, rock stairs!


After walking down some more, I happened upon a wonderful log hovering off the ground in the middle. So I decided that, having learned many skills from Point Break, I'd best try and surf it. Luckily still photos from a camera can't capture severe leg shakage as a result of trying to keep balance. But none of that matters. Because I look cool.


I then followed a rough line of stones marking my path, until I decided paths were for suckers and wandered off. The wandering paid off, and I happened upon a loverly cave. There's a burnt out campfire in front of it, so I think this is where those crazy kids go to do their boozing nowadays. I myself have never drank in the gorge.


Finally, I happened upon the river. It was very wet looking, as water often is. I scouted around for a convenient way to get right down to the water, and conveniently found a dirt slope that was conveniently less vertical than other routes of descent. I did that embarrassing looking baby step walk down, then decided, much like paths, that baby steps are for suckers, and began throwing myself from tree trunk to tree trunk. It was much fun.


After I got to the water, I clambered over the rocks until I got to a good one that rose up above the rest and was nice and flat on the top. I sat, removed my sweater, lit a cigarette, and named it Carrock. A couple wandered below me at one point. The man of the couple helped the woman get over the rocks. The woman of the couple was wearing pants that didn't successfully hide her neon pink thong. Not that I was staring. I just happened to notice whilst videotaping them. *shifty*


When I finished my smoke, I put the butt into my ziplock baggy, like a good little hippie, and climbed back up the slope. Unsurprisingly, it was more difficult than getting down.


I got back onto the path when I got back to the top, figuring I'd have a better change of finding my way out that way then I would had I gone thundering through the brush. I climbed through an awesome cave dealio and found that Nature had installed a skylight. Pretty, though not very rainproof, I'm sure.


After getting through a couple cave-like structures, I got to a fairly straight path through the trees and decided to switch up my cd choice. I figured Zeppelin was the way to go, and because I really wanted to hear Gallows Pole at the time, I opted for Zeppelin III.


Briefly after the music switch, I figured that so long as the ground was sloping in a general upward direction, the previously laid out paths were rendered useless. So once more, I wandered off the path and opted for...well, it turned out to be rather cliff like. I didn't get photo's of that part of the adventure. It's tough to stop and try and take a photo of yourself when you're facing a fall should you let go. When I got to the top of that bit, I found a sunnier, less eerie version of the Paths of the Dead. And I walked them, baby. Oh yes, I did.


Eventually my "path" joined up with a real path, as I figured it would, at some point. As the ground leveled out, I chugged some water, then realized I was still facing 80 stairs.


I caught my breath and took them at quite a leisurely pace. I paused quite a few times to read random key-scratched graffiti left on the rails by other Glen walkers. Only one deserved a photograph, really. I also got a really fantastic shot of one side of the gorge, looking at the direction I came from at the end of the hike. Pretty sweet, eh? EH?! Yeah. Yeah, it is.


I got to the top of the stairs in no time, though my legs still hurt from an aerobics hour class I did yesterday at the gym that somehow turned into an aerobics hour and a half. Some woman interrupted my solitude by asking me what kind of birds she'd been seeing flying around. She was pretty old, and I was tempted to say "vultures," but I opted for the more polite "I don't know," then wandered off and lit my cigarette. Of course, as is the case with life in general, I guess, just when you think it's over, you get a little reprise of random, as was the case with my realizing I had another flight of stairs to climb to get to my car. Ain't life a bitch.


All in all, I had a good time! Got some good photos, heard some great music, hiked and climbed and balanced and hopped and even danced and sang a little. Of course, some of that final cheer vanished during a four hour film class at Brock during which my ass fell asleep not once, but twice, and I overheard some little 18-year-old twat tell her friend how she broke her perfectly good cell phone so her mother would buy her a new one, simply because she was bored of the style.

I bet she left that McDonalds cup in the gorge....

Closed for Winter.

On this fine Spring day, I had an inclination to frequent the local cinematron and take in a moving picture (i.e. I's gonna see one of them there movies). Much to my chagrin, the theater isn't open during the day yet! The theater, you see, hibernates during the day whilst the brumal zephyr of Old Man Winter incarcerates the chartreuse flora and fauna of Mother Earth beneath a funereal stratum of adamantine glaciality and Siberian precipitation, Caucasian in nature (i.e. winter = cold = theater closed).

Sucks, is all.

Today: Severe Lack of Rant

I'm beginning to think I'm too positive for a blog.

I paid real close attention today for something I could rant about.

There was a long line at the Timmies drive through, because some jackass decided to order a million coffees and a dozen toasted sandwiches with soup from his car instead of parking and hauling his lazy ass inside to the counter. But I really didn't mind sitting and chilling and waiting.

There was a room I cleaned today (I clean hotel rooms now, by the way) that stunk, had overflowing garbages which I had to pick through to pull out the bottles and cans for recycling, had half of someones head of hair stuck to the shower and tub, and had leaky brown goo stains in the toilet that prompted me to throw out my sponge once I'd cleaned it up. Plus, the bastards didn't tip me. But I found an almost full bottle of Alpenbitter left by the , which I got to keep. So that wasn't too bad.

Then there were the 20 ten-year-olds in town for a hockey tournament that began running through the halls, screaming in the stairwells, and pushing all the elevator buttons at 9am, which resulted in multiple complaints from other guests, a load of trash in the stairs from the tenth floor down to the first, constant screaming, running and panting, and long, long waits for the elevator just so I could grab things like one bath towel, two hand towels, and a no smoking sign from the laundry room in the basement. But I didn't feel right being angry at kids being kids just because I'm an "adult" now. So that wasn't terribly bad.

Then, after a long and tiring shift on my feet, I couldn't get in touch with my fiance or my friend Elysia to give me a ride home, so I ended up limping a few blocks to a 7-11. My dad ended up coming by to get me there and drive me the rest of what would have been a painful, hour-long walk, and I bought me a bottle of Coca-Cola with the American money one room left me for tip. So all in all, that wasn't too bad.

So what the hell am I supposed to rant about other than not having anything to rant about?

Don't judge me.

Let's break down some stereotypes, children.
Canadians aren't always nice.
Americans aren't all war-mongers.
Germans aren't all Nazis.
White folk aren't all prudes.
Black folk aren't all gangsters.
Chinese, Japanese and Koreans have different cultures.
Men aren't always the hero.
Women aren't always damsels in distress.
Cannabis users aren't all dumb, lazy ne'er-do-wells.

Let's elaborate on that last point, shall we?

I am not a surfer or a rapper. I don't call my friends "dude" and "bro." I am not stupid or lazy. I am not a D-student. I am not a juvenile delinquent. I do not sell my possessions for marijuana. I don't laugh incessantly at bad jokes, or pass out when I smoke.

Now I'm not saying, by any means, that there are no surfing, rapping, stupid, lazy, D-student, delinquent, out of control, marijuana-users out there. Because there are. I call them stoners. Because when they smoke, they become as retarded as a rock.

I myself, am a pothead. I have a job. I do it well. I enjoy it. Have I smoked weed before work? Hell, yes. I worked the 7-11 midnight shift. I smoked before that shift. Hell, I smoked during that shift. And let me tell you, that store would be spic-and-span clean by 7am. I left 7-11 to work at a call center that handled technical support for Americans having troubles with their MacBooks and their iBooks and their Powerbooks and their iPhones. Talking to angry Americans all day sometimes required a little extra calm, so yes, I smoked before my shift there as well. My stats in that office were fantastic. Customer feedback was always positive, my call resolution was always high, and I was frequently complimented for my patience and friendly attitude. I ended up leaving that job without another lined up, due to the fact that it was soul-destroying. But that's a whole other story.

I go to school. I like school. I am an A-student. I take my studies seriously. Have I smoked weed before class? Hell, yes. Friday afternoon, 2pm-5pm, is my film lab. We watch a movie. We note styles and structures. I find smoking a quick bowl in my car beforehand gives me an insightful boost. Little known fact: one can be thoughtful, insightful and spiritual, and still smoke weed.

I am not lazy. I have my days where all I want to do is lay around, watching movies, and doing nothing in particular, but everyone has those days. What do I tend to do after smoking? I go grocery shopping. I clean my apartment. I do yoga. I go for a walk. I read my assigned chapters for class. I get shit done.

Sometimes I chill and watch a movie. Sometimes I'll sit and read a book. Often I'll have introspective discussions with my friends about life and love, about stereotypes, about history, about human relations and human interaction. Many of these conversations result in my saying "I should really start carrying a notebook around so I can write down these revelations."

Often I will simply drive. I'll head out to the back roads, I'll smoke my bowl, and I'll drive. I relax, I think, I philosophize, I get in touch with my inner self. I sing, I develop creative ideas and plans for the future, I take in the look, the sound, the smell of everything around me, and I see beauty where I never saw it before and, in these instances, I pull over, grab my camera, and take a photo:


I guess the whole point is:
a) Don't negatively stereotype people who smoke weed.
b) Some of you stoners out there need to stop giving weed a bad name.

Thanks.

Canadian Film: C is for Censorship!

There's a bit of turmoil running through Canadian Film at the moment, instigated by something called Bill C-10.

Just for a little introduction on Canadian Film and Canadian film funding:

Canadian Film, more so English-speaking Canadian film, has always struggled. The French films coming out of Quebec tend to do much better, as they don't have to compete with English-speaking Hollywood Productions. We very little funding and are always under constant threats of being usurped completely by the U.S. and Hollywood.

Canadian cinema tends to center itself around issues of identity and discovering the self within the self rather than just accepting and conforming to what people and society say is the norm. This general identity vibe seems to stem from Canada always being defined by those outside it's borders, beginning as being an extension of Britain and continuing to be under threat of American culture due to our geographical location and basic lack of identity. Even the most stereotypical Canadian traits - beer, snow, igloos, Eskimos, mounties, saying "eh" - all came from Hollywood films depicting their versions of Canada.

This search for the self in film often delves into issues regarding ethnicity, culture, gender, and sexuality, and, as a result, Canadians and Canadian cinema tend to be unperturbed about graphic content in our films and television programs. It is very rare that sex and violence are used for the sake of sex and violence, and are instead used to convey a greater message regarding people, culture, and the self.

Funding has always been a huge issue in getting Canadian films to see the light of day. Many Canadian productions are financed through bank loans, which tend to be approved based on the likelihood of receiving federal tax credits once productions are complete. Then, even once they are completed and receive their funding and tax exemptions, it is very rare that Canadians even see them, as our theaters tend to take in mainly blockbusters and big-budget Hollywood productions.

Now for a little introduction to the history of what became Bill C-10:

Way back when, when the Liberals were in office, they tried to eliminate tax credits for offensive movies, mainly to prevent a film that was in production based off the true events surrounding a school-girl killing couple named Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka. (Eventually, Karla (2006) was made and released anyway.

That plan is similar to a tax reform that the current Conservative government has put into motion. When the bill was first discussed in November of 2003, there was an election going on, and the publics reaction was unanimous: Nobody noticed.

After a long period of development, Deputy Prime Minister John Manley and Minster of Heritage Sheila Copps proposed that Canadian film and television productions will receive tax credits only if the works are not "contrary to public policy."

Five years later (last Fall), a draft legislation in the form of a 500-page Income Tax Bill aimed primarily at dealing with offshore tax loopholes, with those exact words, made it through the House of Commons with little opposition, and had reached its third reading in the Senate, which usually means a bill is about to be passed and it's a done deal, when a lawyer spotted two clauses that were to be added to the largely unreadable Income Tax Act.

Bill C-10 Controversy:

One clause would make any film that is "contrary to public policy" ineligible for tax breaks, and the other clause left it up to the Heritage Minister to decide what that vague phrase might mean. This amendment not only applies to future Canadian productions, but also includes the cancellation of funding for projects that have already garnered government funding, potentially stranding the development of television shows in pre-production or bankrupting films in mid-production.

To add to this almost-passed amendment, such guidelines regarding what productions can qualify for tax credits already exist at Telefilm, at the provincial agencies, at the CRTC and even in the Criminal Code. The difference is, these guidelines explicitly allow for artistic exemption (meaning true films are fundable, pornography isn't). The fact that funding guidelines already exist primarily to refuse funding to pornographic material and the fact that the government controlled bill makes no mention of artistic exemption, combined with the fact that the bill was almost approved before th public was made aware, has caused the informed parts of the nation to suspect governmental censorship.

Canadians are now protesting about how the Canadian government is not to "act as the country's morality police" by withholding financial aid for any films and television shows.

Writers Guild of Canada has put forth statements expressing how "It is not for the Department of Heritage to decide in isolation what films and TV productions will get made" and call attention to the fact that "without the ability to have confidence in the tax credit piece of the financing puzzle, there will be fewer productions in Canada. The new guidelines could cost the Canadian economy thousands of jobs and hundreds of millions of production dollars each year."

The promise of these tax credits will be severely compromised if Bill C-10 is passed, making investors less likely to offer financial aid to Canadian productions. Basically, "banks won't loan money if it's a crapshoot on federal tax credit approval criteria, and without loans, movies and TV shows won't get made. It's not sustainable and will devastate the Canadian industry."

To add to the controversy, Charles McVety, the head of Canada Christian College, president of the Canada Family Action Coalition, and known evangelical activist, took credit for it the proposed amendment and seeks to have what he calls "Judeo-Christian moral principles" restored in Canada. "We're thankful that someone's finally listening," he said of his lobbying, suggesting that guidelines should ban tax credits for films that promote homosexuality, extreme violence or graphic sex.

The Canadian film Young People Fucking has become a primary example of groups in favour of Bill C-10 of films that they want cut from tax credits and governmental funding. Young People Fucking is a romantic comedy that follows the story of five people through one sexual encounter where each attempt at sex is met with an endless stream of complications. The five couples include The Couple, The Friends, The Exes, The First Date, and The Roomates.

When questioned as to whether he had actually seen the film he was using as his primary example of inappropriate cinema, McVety stated, "I haven't seen this film, but it's my understanding that the film contains a lot of soft-porn images. It's supposedly somewhat witty, but with very blue dialogue. It is certainly not a discussion that most Canadians would share in their homes or offices."

Long Story Short:

Long story short, Canadians found out in the past week of a bill that was on the verge of being passed that would enable the Canadian Government to decide which films and programs are appropriate for receiving funding, which basically makes things 1000 times harder for Canadians to get their stuff out there, since movies require moneys, which basically equates to governmental censorship.

As much as I dislike propogating Facebook, there is a group entitled Keep your censoring hands off of Canadian film and TV! No to Bill C-10! that was created a couple weeks ago when news of Bill C-10 was released, and has quickly grown to having over 32,000. The group itself has been mentioned many times in the press, and is apparently one of the strongest and largest oppositional forces in this scenario. Who'd have thought Facebook could plausibly make a difference.

I'm not saying JOIN IT NOW OR ELSE!, but I joined, and I think that growing numbers will help the Canadian government realize that Canadian Film has a tough enough time competing the worlds cinemascape without their damned Bill C-10.

The passing of Bill C-10 was postponed it was discovered by the public, and the general consensus is one of outrage, numerous anti-censorship protests currently in the works, but who knows how ignorant all those old white guys can be. They may pass the bill yet.
I'll keep you posted.

Fuck, people piss me off.

Some relevant news articles:

Feb 29, 2008 The Windsor Star: Censorship feared
Feb 29, 2008 CBC News: Taxpayers being abused by film funding: lobbyist
Mar 02, 2008 Canada.com: When policy, art collide
Mar 03, 2008 CBC News: Producers to meet with Ottawa on film funding plan
Mar 04, 2008 The Montreal Gazette: Amendment would pose threat to our film, TV: production chair
Mar 05, 2008 The Globe and Mail: Liberals moved first to limit film tax relief
Mar 06, 2008 The Toronto Star: Censorship foes asleep at the switch
Mar 08, 2008 The National Post: Controversial bill called an 'attack on Canada's film industry'
Mar 11, 2008 The National Post: Censoring Canada's filmmakers by stealth

Academic Abominations

I was a first year once. I know I was irritating. I got bored in the lectures for classes I didn't like. I let my mind wander and I chatted with friends while the professor was teaching. However. When I was asked to pipe down, I shut the fuck up.

I am now a 5th year, having changed my major at Brock from Archaeology to Film Studies. Turns out I didn't want to be Indiana Jones, I wanted to make Indiana Jones. Well, not make Indiana Jones, but films in general, if you get my meaning. I'm really enjoying my courses! I think they're fanplasmic. I can feel my brain expanding on a weekly basis. Soon it will grow to the point that I will be capable of telekinesis. But not really. ANYwho...

The main down side to this switch in major, is I now have the academic maturity of a grad student. And I am in a lecture hall filled with 500 first years. Chatty, irritating 17-year-olds, a smear on the face of campus, an aggravation, an affliction, a plague that sweeps through my studious environment three days a week.


These academic abominations don't seem to realize that I don't care who did what to whom at the Moose and Goose last week. I don't care if Nathan cheated on Rebecca with Meagan, or that Nathan is a dick, OR that you'd do him anyway. I don't want to hear your shitty-ass techno music when I'm trying to focus on the professor, and when I ask you to turn it down, I don't mean that I'd rather you switch out the techno for rap, white-boy. I don't want to see a Family Guy episode playing on your laptop in front of me. I like Family Guy. It's a distraction. I also don't want to see your skanky photos from the bar on your Facebook out of the corner of my eye. And I especially don't want to hear you bitch about how you don't understand the lecture content after your chatting, your iPoding, your Facebooking, your slacking.

I hereby submit my vote for a laptop ban in lecture halls. Pens and paper have worked for years, folks. I also vote YES on proposition No Warnings, a practice that will require professors across the campus to boot chatty "students" out of the lecture halls and classrooms with no further warning. They've gotten plenty, believe you me. Believe you me.

/rant

The Human Ego

For those who have recently seen Mars Attacks: Is the presidents character based on the ego of the human race or around the opposite actions of what the president in a Hollywood film of the same nature would be? Or both? Or neither...? Hmmm...a quandary....

Undermining Mr. T

I realized a while back that when Rocky fought Clubber Lang in Rocky III, Lang represented the ego, wealth and flash of then contemporary figures in the sports and entertainment industry who threatened to beat down the simple, modest class of traditional figures in the sports and entertainment industry, which is represented by Rocky and Micky, who's actually cut down by this jazzed up contemporary star...

NOW.... The audience is forced, through technique, to root for Rocky. He's our hero, the underdog, the one with heart. Everything you know for those two hours is that Rocky must win his rematch with Clubber Lang for the good of the nation!

SO.... In real life, Mr. T really is Clubber Lang. He's the flash, the commercialized icon for the consumerism society of today. Don't you think it's odd/amusing that Mr. T accepted to play a role in a film that mirrors his role in life to such an extent that he is actually participating in delivering a message and ideology that undermines his own position in society?! O_O