Carrot Rope

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Green Acres
Horses, weird farm implements, and Will Ferrell. Gentle humor to be sure, but right on target when it counts.

Hot Water
"On the anecdotal front, he notes that lobsters work hard to escape the 212-degree water, hooking their claws over the sides of kitchen pots and thrashing around, audibly, during the 30 seconds or so it takes them to die. "The lobster, in other words, behaves very much as you or I would behave if we were plunged into boiling water," he writes. "If you permit yourself to think that lobsters can suffer and would rather not, the MLF can begin to take on aspects of something like a Roman circus or medieval torture-fest." Yes, it's David Foster Wallace, in this month'sGourmet magazine. Did the editor have problems with his writing? Mais oui. But she printed it anyway. That's why it's a fine magazine. (Link via Bookslut.) Update: I glanced at this and yes, it has footnotes. And the editor stickhandled the thorny issue of not-all-advertisers-being-very-pleased by not mentioning the story on the cover, which may be a first for DFW, who is usually the selling point for any mag he's in...hmmm....

Out of the Mouths of Presidents...
It is not this blog's intention to pick on the current President of the United States unnecessarily. I know full well the merriment everyone who is obsessed by language had four years ago, but what worries me is that he hasn't improved. Either he is incapable of learning or someone wants to make it look like he is. I mean, he does know this is wrong, doesn't he?

"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."—Washington, D.C., Aug. 5, 2004

(Here's a Guardian quiz on Bushisms. Slate's list of them is here.)

Medium Meets Message
If you can't get people to read your messages online, then just go to where the people are. Brilliant. It's what overpasses are for! (Favorite posting: "Bush hijacked our grief and flew it to Iraq.")

RNC Rehearsal Escape Route
"You just emerged from a blackout. You are disoriented, slightly vertiginous, your skull pounding, the room barely in focus. This confuses you. Then, moments later, you hear the sound of a lone man's booming voice shouting, "IT AIN'T ROCK-N-ROLL IF IT AIN'T LOUD!!!" Everything suddenly becomes clear. You've just been kidnapped by Ted Nugent." And it just gets better from there - it could only be Tremble.

The Guardian Leads The Way
There is only one positive review of Catwoman in the universe: this one. You have been warned. Meanwhile at the New Yorker, Anthony Lane takes on Spike Lee.

What do Margaret Atwood, Patrick Friesen and Me Have in Common?
You don't have to be a writer to sign the Coach House Press petition, you just have to be cool. Actually, you don't even have to be cool, but signing it will make you cooler than you are now. Oh, just sign it and save a nice, small building from being demolished.Update: Over 3,300 people have signed it so far, and there's an article in NOW about it, as well.

Or That He's Even In One
"It even evokes new metaphors. For instance, the thing about George W. Bush is not that he was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple. It is that he has been in a bicycle taxi all his life but has not yet bothered to notice that someone else is pedalling." The New Yorker's Adam Gopnik on the feudal, sweaty pedicab experience.

I Thought My Feet Were Big
I'm not exactly sure what they are supposed to be - besides mascots - but Athena and Phevos are kind of cute, in their way. (Link via Throwing Things.)

You've Come Some Way, Baby
Jeanette Winterson on The Stepford Wives: "There is a caring-sharing Stepford mentality at work in those real-life politicians who now talk about "making it possible" for women to stay at home. The assumption is that women have made their point, and now it's time to restore some sanity." Ah, but are any of these politicians as scary as Christopher Walken?

Meet Me in the Middle
I just took slate's "Red or Blue" test and, to my surprise, I landed in the middle. Doesn't mean I'm conservative, but I have a pretty good memory and some things are just obvious. If I knew more about Iowa, I'd be a red stater, which is kind of scary.

All Beautiful
The Village Voice has a great article by Rob Sheffield about Franz Ferdinand and their song "Michael." That's it, I have to get the album...

Nature Goes About Its Business
From the weekly Harper's review: "People in Canberra, Australia, were warned to beware of mad starving kangaroos; at least one golden retriever has been drowned by a kangaroo, and a woman was attacked while out walking her poodle. A sinkhole in Louisiana ate a giraffe and an ostrich. Scientists succeeded in reading the mind of a monkey."

Misery: The New Diet
"Exhibit A: I go to the doctor several months ago. I've got mad stress going on in my life -- a break-up, a business trip, trying to move, not sleeping right, blah bling bad, I don't eat half the time and I look and feel like crap. I get on the scale, and it says 133, and the nurse says, "Good for you!" Dude. At five foot ten? Hell. No. Ma'am. You could have used my wrist as a piercing awl at that point. The asses of all my pairs of pants looked all saggy and empty, because I had maybe half a buttock total, because I didn't eat and burned any extra calories crying myself to sleep at night and running around my apartment with packing tape the rest of the time. My face got all pointy and my sternum got all ridgy and I just looked grey and rough and beaten down -- and the nurse congratulates me. For looking like a box kite with shoes. That is fucked up." In other words, eat your carbs, people. In related news: British athletes aren't eating well either.

Sticks and Stones
One can only wonder how Dale Peck is going to alter Laura Kipnis's name in order to make it sound as if he is in 6th grade. (On a sort-of unrelated note: why are some male critics so aggressive? I mean, there's no equivalent in female literary criticism, is there? You know, a woman who could have a book of her reviews called Bitch Slaps?)

Third Time's A Charm
I'd like to point out a couple of new links - Delinated, a fine photoblog from Toronto, and the indefatigable Marcello Carlin's newest site, Koons Really Does Think He's Michaelangelo - because I'm not part of the bloggerverse, I must comment here - cacafuego is a great word. And yes, you could list the Top 1000 British Albums, but lists are supposed to be fun, right? Right?

Death in Africa
I can't say too much about this except that I am extremely sad about the whole thing - Ms. Burroway helped me last year with my work on Plath and I am going to be writing to her soon.

Bush Gets Training Wheels
I'm not sure how it started, but the Girls' Bike Club entries at Tomato Nation are silly, silly fun.

Actually, it started (after some requisite J Lo. snarkage) with this:

Wing Chun: Do not feel sorry for Phil Collins.

Sarah: He's riding a girls' bike, dude.

Wing Chun: He brought it on himself.

Sarah: With handlebar streamers. That's not sort of sad?

Wing Chun: "Yooouuuuuu'll be in myyyy heeeeart!"

Sarah: Yeah, good point.

A Frightening Concept...
...that would be the election, on Monday evening, of the Conservative party, led by the much-dreaded Stephen Harper. I know I'm late posting on this, but it's encouraging that the Stop Harper campaign has run out of buttons. Carrot Rope is of the same opinion - get out and vote for anyone on Monday but this party and this leader. To quote Cellar Dweller: "Look, it's a free country and you're entitled to vote for whomever you wish, but I just can't take anybody who's voting Conservative seriously. I just can't. I want to spray-paint "MAKE THE RICH PAY" on every Conservative sign I see. Or better yet, "BACKS AGAINST THE WALL!"

Praise the Grammar Police
Louis Menand doesn't like that new book on punctuation - because it's got errors, and not just grammatical ones. I feel like getting a time machine for Ms. Truss and taking her back to my high school, where she would learn that you can't just put commas anywhere. Okay, one more time - commas are used to make natural breaks so the person reading aloud (get that Truss? ALOUD) would have the time to take a breath in order to keep reading naturally. Sorry to be bitchy, folks, but part of me is channelling Harold Ross right now.

The Great Divide
"There's a bigger problem with women and pop, though, and it's this. If large groups of women like an artist, that artist automatically slips down the credibility chart. It doesn't matter if it's Robbie Williams, Abba, Usher, Faithless - if loads of women like it, the unspoken logic goes, it's rubbish." Miranda Sawyer comments on the Observer's Greatest UK Albums of All Time list. What can I add? My own list would include Scritti Politti, The Pretenders, PJ Harvey, The Fall (not the one listed but instead I Am Curious Oranj), Lush and Saint Etienne. A girly list, or what?

I'm Sure Jane Would Agree
"To be different without being confusing, to be radical without promoting a scorched-earth policy, to be intellectual while remaining emotional and to be emotional without succumbing to sentimentality, to find a new form that is immediately negotiable—these would be the aims I'd shoot for, in our drear day." Jeffrey Eugenides on the requirements of the novel, which haven't changed nearly as much as he thinks, at slate.

Don't Need No Stinkin' Gmail
It's a red-letter day when actual competition between rivals actually benefits yours truly, but when I woke up this morning and found that my stuffed-to-the-gills inbox was suddenly hardly full at all - in short, that there's a lot more space for emails at yahoo - well, that was a very pleasant surprise, and makes up for the fact no one's invited me to the Gmail party.

Usus et Fructus
Infiltration has a blog now - Usufruct - with entries on everything from Doors Open Toronto to the stupid idea of banning cameras from New York's subways - best of all is a list of the most endangered heritage sites in the U.S. and his reactions to said buildings/areas: "1. Vermont. Yes, the whole state is historic. Good luck historic Vermont. 2. Some modernist building in Manhattan. I don't know the particular building, but it can probably go. 3. A house where Seabiscuit hung out or something like that. No, I'm not kidding. Either there were a lot of teenaged girls on the panel, or people really liked that crappy movie. 4. Pennsylvania's Bethlehem Steel Plant. Why on earth is this centre of American industry not at the top of the list? Because Seabiscuit didn't sleep there?"

The Night is Just Hummin'
"If you're a carpenter, don't just make a credenza, make a "paradox credenza". Want to impress a potential life-mate on that all-important morning after? Don't just make a pesto scramble, make a "pesto scramble that defies the laws of space and time." Lore on, of all things, skateboarding.

The One, The Only
Sorry I've been away - illness will do that to a blog - but I hope to catch up some today, starting with the sad news from Thursday about the passing of Ray Charles. Here's Chart's 15 Reasons Why Ray Charles Was Cool list - though they missed two - his saying that he wasn't a genius, Art Tatum was, and of course his performance in The Blues Brothers. Also: Stanley Crouch's fine obit from slate. Update: Please also read The Naked Maja for a deep, moving and lovely appreciation of the man and his music.

Less Than Once In A Lifetime
If the news has been boggling you lately, you could always just blame it on the upcoming Transit of Venus - namely, Venus transiting across the sun, a rare event. (Not as rare as, well, take your pick.)

Forget Me Not
In the fervor of remembering D-Day (which has gone, for some, a little too far), please also remember one who died on June 9, 1944 in Normandy - Keith Douglas. What can I say about him? He was to WWII was Wilfred Owen was to WWI; yet not nearly as well known, which is a shame. Here's Ted Hughes, from his introduction to Douglas's Complete Poems: "Each line gives a strong impression of acrobatic balance involving the whole body: a feat of graceful, outer physical balance improvised over a pit of turbulent, inner, psychic imbalance. This balancing act in words, which draws the reader into the same imperilled concentration as Douglas's own, achieves, at its best, convincing authority, distinction, beauty, finality and even, one feels, practical utility."

Not Measured: The Number of Stories That Made Me Go 'Ick'
"The 116-page thesis is dense with footnotes and data addenda. (A CD-ROM of the data was appended in case someone is interested in testing her results.) The main inquiry is how a change in the head of the fiction department — from Charles McGrath to Bill Buford — affected the stories published in The New Yorker, perhaps the most sought-after real estate in the short fiction world. (A secondary question of whether a change in editor from Tina Brown to David Remnick had measurable effects came back a resounding no.)

In analyzing such matters, Ms. Milkman has brought statistical rigor to one of the more intense parlor games in the literary world. Critics have long suggested that under Mr. Buford — who took over the magazine's fiction department in 1995 when Mr. McGrath came to The New York Times, and left to write books in 2002 — female authors were about as welcome as they would be at the clubhouse of Augusta National.

According to Ms. Milkman, the number of male authors rose to 70 percent under Mr. Buford, compared with 57 percent under Mr. McGrath."

Personally, I am amazed that anyone would go to such lengths, but if you want to read more, go here. (BTW, one of the stories that made me go 'ick' was about a party centered around artificial insemination. Remember that one? No? Good.)

No Boards Allowed
"extreme ironing n. A pastime in which participants iron a few items of laundry while engaged in an extreme sport or some other dangerous activity." Cough. But for some people (that would be me) ironing already is a dangerous activity. More insanity (crackberrys, anyone?) at Word Spy.

That Was Then...
"And I got the impression that Dave Pirner was always on the verge of defeat. When you are a freshman in high school, you are also always on the verge of some sort of defeat. Dave Pirner was my spokesman! And he was from my metropolitan area. He was probably defeated within twenty miles of my own defeat! Finally, a voice for my generation. And by my generation I mean me." More insanely good writing on rock by DragonAttack, who was looking forward to Morrissey just as much as anyone, last week.

Still Here
Recently I went to a friend's birthday party and in the corner was a big box marked 'free' - and amongst the various things I was lucky enough to find in it (a Viking Portable Elizabethan Reader, Flaubert in Egypt) was a cd of Morrissey's Vauxhall And I. This review of You Are the Quarry in the Village Voice states that happily requited love and the enjoyment of the man's work do not go together, but rather Morrissey's moaning (in just about all senses of the word) makes you remember what you'd rather forget. This would be correct (in the case of the couple who were hosting the party), but not always. He has a great voice, and sounds just as good as ever, even if he's swearing a bit and is dressed to kill. (For the record, I also picked up a Sarah McLachlan tape; more beautiful, if sad, music.)

And Neither of Them Are Poets - So There
The fearless Sean asks a few questions of Christopher Ricks, the new Oxford Professor of Poetry. I can only echo them, with the added query, how can you people at Oxford be serious? Are you taking the piss?

You Can't Push on a Rope
"Simple brute force is useless for most of the problems we confront in life. What follows is a top-of-the-head list of potentially frustrating situations or tasks in which the attempt to employ brute force is guaranteed to fail:

* driving in rush hour traffic

* card tricks

* hitting a curveball

* throwing a curveball

* origami

* turning just the one page in a book or magazine instead of the two or three pages that seem to be stuck together

* ditto for coffee filters

* putting

* threading a needle

* nation-building and promoting democracy."

Total snaps out to Slacktivist, who is always worth reading.

The Face That Launched a Thousand Quips
I was at a party last weekend and while there heard an intense, alcohol-fuelled discussion as to who should've been cast as Helen in the new movie Troy; interestingly, all the top nominees were dark-haired (Zeta-Jones, Bellucci, Hayek), whereas slate shows that for a long time, Helen was portrayed as a blonde; Homer just says she was pretty. Smart Homer.

Only in England
Actually, he's probably better than the current laureate: "Jonny Hurst, a faithful and most eloquent supporter of the Blues, had just been chosen as Bard of the Boots, or soccer's first £10,000 chants laureate, as the post is officially called." I, for one, could never chant anything to the melody of "Copacabana," no matter how drunk I was.

Accept No Substitutes
Bittman: "I wonder if years from now when we all die they'll figure out we were all in this room together once. I can see the headlines: 'Deaths all over the country from a previously unknown form of cancer. Doctors have only been able to discover that they were once in the same room together.' [Chews contemplatively on a snickerdoodle.] 'That shit is nasty! There's butter and cream, and it's still bad!'" Salon enlist four foodies to test low-carbohydrate foods, with even worse-than-expected results.

That's It, You're Purdy Now
Jen at Cellar Dweller on The Swan: "Andrea had acne scarring she wanted to get rid of; Belinda wanted to lose weight. In my humble opinion, what they really needed were grammar and elocution lessons. More Professor Higgins, less Dr. Scalpelhappy. I didn't take notes, but sheesh, what's the point of being transformed into a human Barbie doll and arrayed in expensive frippery only to open your newly Da-Vinci-veneered mouth to say things like, "Oh, my gawd, I ain't never looked so purdy before." Unless, through The Swan, these wily Fox producers are really submitting a postmodern feminist critique on the superficiality of patriarchal constructions of beauty and the male gaze. Then again, Fox producers probably can't even spell "critique", let alone pronounce it, so there goes that theory."

Off and On
Roger Miller of Mission of Burma is this week's diarist at slate. Hmm, isn't there supposed to be some controversy over the new compilation? Huh. I wonder if he'll address that.

Darn That Information Age
As you may have noticed, I have a few more political blogs linked here, and usually I trust that you, my readers, will click or not click on them as is your wont. Usually I let them do the much-better job of commenting on the inanities of the political world, specifically that of the current administration in the White House - but even I have to say that the torture of prisoners - not the documentation, though that is, as they say, useful - is such a woeful breakdown in the chain of command that it defies logic, almost. And the presidency, according to slate will straggle on regardless. Choice quote: "Even now, the secretary seems to miss the point. He appears to think the issue is not the torture but the photographs. He didn't tell the president because, as he put it, "The problem at that point was one-dimensional. It wasn't three-dimensional. It wasn't photographs and video." At several points in the hearings, he talked about the unique problems posed by "the information age."

I Had a Boss Like That Once
"Rocco's aloofness has always upset the staff. All anyone in this series desires is to bask in the man's charisma, yet he zips around town on his shiny Vespa, seemingly unaware of his devastating effect on those around him. The show suggests that he's so busy being a celebrity that he doesn't have time to mingle with his customers or even cook anymore. Numerous montages feature customers demanding, "Where's Rocco?" His staff is even moonier: They crave him the way an Atkins dieter craves forbidden carbs." Joy Press on the new season of The Restaurant. (Actually, I wasn't working in a restaurant, but my boss once managed one. As they say, same difference.)

Orange Robes Optional
More gurus at slate, but I had to post this - as an American woman, I can say it's true. Really.

You are an American woman

Your guru is: Oprah Winfrey

Sacred text: O.

You trust her because: She is human, yet she is divine.

Her style: Self-deprecating empathy.

What she says: "Be your best you."

What she means: Be your best you, really.

Insane thing she will make you do: Be your best you.

You can’t keep your eyes off: Her waistline.

Ideal devotee: Woman.

If she wasn’t doing this she’d be: Turning water to wine, raising the dead, etc.

Your sneaking suspicion: She will never marry Stedman.

Cost: Online workshop, $24.95.

You could get the same advice from: Your mom, if you’re very lucky. Or God.

Blogs That Give At Least 110%
Though I am not much of the athletic type - the only running I do is for the bus, and even then it's more like power-walking - Toronto does have some sports teams and yes, they all have fan blogs. (Not all teams in all cities do - yet.) Raptor Blog covers the perenially underachieving Raptors, Blue Jay Way is about, well, the Jays, and it would be wrong for me, I suppose, to link to Heart Attack Kids, but somehow the Leafs are an unavoidable element of city life, whether it's the ubiquitous flags on cars, SUVs, trucks (every vehicle that can take one, save for hearses), the Go Leafs Go message flashing on the fronts of buses, and so on. All of these blogs look good, but I am only linking to the Jays, because I only like the Jays. Not that anyone cares about them, right now. Maybe next week?

Not Just a Leather Jacket
Thom Gunn, a friend and contemporary of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, has died. He was so well-regarded that he shared a selected poems book with Hughes early on, the only author ever to do so. Here's a short piece on him from last year.

No Sleep in Brooklyn
"It's not for the faint of heart, driving out here. God forbid you get stuck at one of the Lights Of The Damned on New Utrecht Avenue, because you will sit there for twenty minutes, waiting, aging, and behind you is the guy with the bass, putting every pacemaker in the neighborhood on the fritz and causing seismologists from Montauk to Red Bank to storm out of their labs all "why do I even bother."" Sars at Tomato Nation on the perils of driving in Brooklyn, though this does sound like downtown Yonge Street in early August, though at what light I couldn't tell.

Angry Old Men
I always wondered if there was a word for the pro-war writers as of late - you know, Hitchens, Amis, Rushdie, et al - and there is: belligerati. I'm sure they find the term amusing, if they know about it. (Term courtesy of Word Spy, a fine source for your gap-in-the-language needs.)

Slack, Not Whack
Well, it had to happen: Jay-Z's been mixed up with, of all things, Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted to make The Slack Album, a track of which I heard yesterday afternoon on CKUW - "In the Mouth, An Encore" - and it works surprisingly well. And it's supposed to be available as an entire album fairly soon - what will Malkmus think (or Jay-Z, for that matter?)

Popular Science
You know, I never think of myself as much of a science reader, but I am reading David Foster Wallace's Everything and More right now and I've read & really liked two of the Aventis nominees, Baron-Cohen & Bryson. Here's the complete list:

Galileo's Finger by Peter Atkins (Oxford University Press)

The Essential Difference by Simon Baron-Cohen (Penguin: Allen Lane)

In the Beginning was the Worm by Andrew Brown (Simon & Schuster)

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson (Doubleday/Transworld)

Magic Universe by Nigel Calder (Oxford University Press)

A Brief History of Infinity by Brian Clegg (Constable & Robinson)

Freedom Evolves by Daniel C Dennett (Penguin: Allen Lane)

Sex, Botany & Empire by Patricia Fara (Icon Books)

Mutants by Armand Marie Leroi (Penguin: Viking USA)

After the Ice by Steven Mithen (Weidenfeld & Nicolson)

How to Clone the Perfect Blonde by Sue Nelson and Richard Hollingham (Ebury Press)

Nature via Nurture by Matt Ridley (Fourth Estate)

Einstein's Refrigerator by Gino Segre (Penguin: Allen Lane)

Backroom Boys by Francis Spufford (Faber & Faber)

Adam's Curse by Bryan Sykes (Bantam Press)

Stations Fading Into the Unknown
While I was away, Marc Weisblott started a new blog about the wide wide world of radio - Radio Weisblogg - that is of course very good and yes, if you miss his old blog, there's a link there to some of his older stuff from les jours du pitas, including one fine one on U of T's own CIUT. (I wish I'd listened to that station more back then; by mid-'90 I was practically living around the corner from the place, after all.)

1968 and All That
First, sorry for the inadvertent service interruption - everything seems to be back to normal now, though, and just in time for a few postings and notations. This review of Mark Kurlansky's book on the year 1968 is good - I've read the book and it is something like reading the background notes for a tv documentary - not complete, but encompassing, and if you're like me and have no idea what happened beyond a few riots and assassinations, worth checking out. However I must pity the UK readers, as the cover is rather naff (compared the North American one). Also - I somehow feel the word 'rocked' is not exactly the one I would use for '68. I associate 'rock' as a verb to mean either moving back-and-forth or to make rock music (a topic that is but skirted in the book, even though the author himself was 20 at the time when the events took place). Oh well. There's lots on the events of May in Paris, including a whole list of typically charming & witty graffiti I hadn't seen before.

The Dragon From Leaside
"Is my brain starting to hurt? Yes. Does Atwood say all of this with the same wry delivery that implies, "Come on, this is all very obvious"? Yes. " Emma Brockes of the Guardian barely manages to survive interviewing Margaret Atwood.

Reach Out, Touch Faith
In reading this Slate article, I kept thinking of various game shows where the character of Jesus would baffle the panelists, like Front Page Challenge, What's My Line?, To Tell The Truth, etc. "What do you do for a living?" would be an interesting question, to say the least. Happy Easter, everyone!

Death & Love
The Naked Maja has done it again. Dammit, he's made me cry.

"So much thought to think in spaces unoccupied by humans.

He is tinkering with modes of communication in order to avoid communicating.

And what does he want to communicate? Or need to communicate?

“And I need you more than want you. And I want you for all time.”

It is the greatest lyrical couplet in 20th-century song because of everything it doesn’t say, all that it leaves out.

Because it doesn’t mention the word “love” yet could not exist without “love.”"

Hey. Thanks!
I am pleased as punch to report that the venerable judges at Blogs Canada have named Carrot Rope one of the Top 10 Blogs for April 2004; "smart, literate and funny" is very kind praise indeed, and I don't even mind the layout being compared to extremely old-school video games (I tend to think I have a non-design design). Again: Thanks Blogs Canada!

The Revolt of the Ugly Ducklings
"The funny thing is, it doesn't just make you depressed about plastic surgery and sad women and sleazy TV executives. It also makes you depressed about the war in Iraq, the frailty of the human ego, the undeniable soul-sucking lameness of our culture, and the impossibility for real beauty at a time when such confused animals roam the earth. "The Swan" is bad for you. It's bad for me. "The Swan" is bad." Heather Havrilesky at Salon, proving that sometimes you don't have to watch the whole show to get the gist of it; heck, I only saw the commercial and I revolted against it.

I Believe In A Thing Called Putting On Another CD
As part of their excellent Entente Cordiale section, the Guardian asked French reviewers to look at popular English culture, reaping this fine review of The Darkness from Gilles Renault: "It's as if punk, new wave, big beat or jungle had had no other purpose than to postpone the inevitable return of this sort of clowning kitsch. That includes the clips of pseudo-spaceships and exaggerated flourishes when playing the guitar on the peaks of mountain ranges, which assault the eyesight after damaging the hearing."
Dragonattack of Rocksnobs thoroughly dislikes them too, surely a sign that US/French relations are on the mend.

Overambition: Pasta Edition
" If pasta insists on being rice, then rice is going to want to be couscous and couscous is going to get drunk and start whining about how potatoes get all the good parts." Hm. The one time I ate some orzo, I got sick. I wonder if the same thing happened to Lore, or whether it's just the principle of the thing.

Frighteningly Accurate
Normally I don't mention anything in The Onion because I think you, my readers, already know all about it; but this week's What Do You Think? is so accurate that I really believe folks on the street did say these things. As usual, the worse things are, the better The Onion is...

Get Your God Out of My Republic...
One of the first - indeed, one of the only - pieces of writing I ever had to memorize was the pledge; I even remember calling my father over to me (I was all of what, 5?) and reciting it to him, as if passing on a secret. Years later, my father told me to remain an American, because of the inherent rightness & goodness of the Constitution, a document that has been getting, if I am right, something of a bad time lately. When we moved up to Canada, suddenly I had to contend with a new anthem, and, eventually, the Lord's Prayer, which I heard every single day in high school. "Under God," of course, was only included in the 1950s as a way of distinguishing the God-loving/fearing Americans from the God-hating Communists; as if the Communists would care what 5-year-olds like me, years later, were reciting dutifully every morning before class started. "Indivisible," by far the toughest word for anyone, came in even earlier to allude to the fact that no, Texas cannot separate, though some people wish California would. Ha. That said, this is Slate's take on the whole thing. Hands over hearts...
Actually, "indivisible" was always part of the pledge; a short history of it is here. Hmm...equality, now there's an idea whose time has come...

Balancing the Budget
If you would like to know what decisions are facing Toronto City Hall (a place that in itself needs to be cleaned up; I mean literally, not in any moral way), the Toronto Star has put together a handy game so you can be budget chief and tear your own hair out. My own budget is here; you'll notice how rough I am on the police, but frankly it was either them or taxing small businesses.

So That's Why I Didn't Like Animal Farm
"Allegories are shit and boring (see future post, to be called 'Allegories are Shit and Boring'), one of the worst diseases of the English protestant imagination. And then there's that bloody essay which gets trotted out every time someone wants to argue for dulling down the language. It seems a guide on how to cripple style: he wants to cut the legs from under luxuriance, redundancy, flair, and fun, many of which are virtues that help us fight a rationalised, ugly world." Sean's anti-Orwell rant is a thing to behold. Welcome, London News Review book blog!

Station Break
If you scroll down a bit, on the left side you will see a wee button for Blogs Canada; click on it, go to the 'eclectic' section and (if you wish) you can rate this here blog, make comments, and so on. (As I'm new, I'm down around pg. 17 or so; why I'm not sure, but there you are.) Still no word on Moby Lives, which is a shame, as their take on the anonymous midlist author of constant sorrow would be worth reading. For the record, I don't care who it is, as I read old books, for the most part.

Out There, Man
If anyone could enlighten me as to what is going on at Moby Lives, I would be most appreciative. I would even blog on a given topic in return for your answer, if you wish. Winter has come and gone, and still the deep indigo world of the whale is silent. (I mean, at least TMFTML gives reasons; heck, most blogs give some kind of reason.)

Album of the Year, pt. 1
"I don’t expect anyone to respond to Talkie Walkie as I have done – that is, music made by and for the bereaved, disenfranchised and dislocated – but that is how I respond to it. " The Naked Maja on Air's new album. (Actually, I think a lot of the best art these days is just this, but the French have a particular grace for it. Just my opinion.)

Slave to the Rhythm
All hail the diurnal body clock system. This review puts it plainly; there really is a time for everything, including, thank goodness, a time for doing nothing. And hey, if you put off making that big decision until lunchtime, you're not procrastinating; you're going with the flow. Cool.

Well, That's a Low-Carb Diet For Sure
"What's always in the fridge: Lots of bottles of Perrier water and chocolate ice cream. That's about it. That's my diet." Rufus Wainwright's domestic life is not really like my own, though we both are in need of chandeliers. And that's your Carrot Rope trivia for this week.

Do They Serve Hunan Chicken in Prison?
The New Yorker gives full coverage of the Stewart debacle, more proof that you have to be nice to the people on the way up, and then stay nice. Also, lying isn't a good thing. Bonus: Joan Didion on the Omnimedia empire, from when it could do no wrong (c. 2000).

Flying Colours, Driving Home
I must admit that I don't know much about Toni Onley; he died two weeks ago, but his artwork will no doubt live on; he was 75. Miriam Waddington also died recently; at the book sale this week I got her Driving Home: Poems New and Selected. She will also be missed, and has a permanent memorial of sorts on the back of the Canadian $100 bill - a quotation from "Jacques Cartier in Toronto":

Do we ever remember
that somewhere above the sky
in some child's dream perhaps
Jacques Cartier is still sailing,
always on his way always
about to discover a new Canada?

Soon
The Guardian has a rare interview with my one of my guitar gods, Kevin Shields; he's crazy, but he's not insane. (For those of you who wonder what he's been up to/don't know who he is, he did the score for Lost in Translation.) I hope My Bloody Valentine do get back together - if the Pixies can do it...

The Way to A Nation's Heart is Through Its Stomach
This makes me hungry for Oreos, not to mention a fundamental shift in thinking at the Pentagon. (From Matt Good's live journal.)

UC Book Sale Redux
Tomorrow, in the main foyer of University College, from 11am to 5pm, the University College Book Sale will be holding a clearance sale; the Book Room will also have a general sale from 11am-6pm. I will likely be in one of these places, charming customers, handing out bookmarks, calculating discounts and so on; come on down, all are welcome!

Last Deal Gone Down
So, Mr. Blodget was wrong; Stewart is guilty, guilty, guilty and guilty, and his report at slate shows his shock, if not hers. She's going to appeal, of course, but if I were her I'd start my amazon wish list, pronto.

Naff. Just Naff.
Out the door in 2004 indeed. If this is any good indication of how the Bush adminstration sees itself/wants others to see it, then it's going to be a long, long and naff campaign season for the White House. As that guy said, at long last, sir, do you have no sense of decency?
If you want to see the ads, they are here.

Love Over Gold
"On a bad day, we are wholly absurd, a cosmic mistake, and it would be best if we were quickly and quietly thrown into a bin. If the hatred of others is so devastating, it is because it grips like a barnacle to latent negative feelings we already hold about ourselves. However, a declining mood may be reversed if others smile at us, if they compliment us on a piece of work or report a flattering comment made in passing by a third party."
Alain de Botton in the Guardian talks about status, the importance of hugs and how no man is an island, except for a couple, and they lived thousands of years ago....

Hit the Books
Elaine Pagels: "...the important thing is that this film ignores the spin the gospel writers were pressured to put on their works, the distortions of facts they had to execute." Hmm. Kind of hard to show that in a movie, but it's a point she is more than qualified to make. (Thus ends the postings on Hollywood's newest blockbuster.)

Sunday Smackdown
Really, the only thing left after this that would be better is if, on the red carpet, Gibson and Hitchens have a real fight, officiated by Joan Rivers, on live tv as part of the pre-Oscars show. I can hear the "You want me to flog you, don't you Mel?" from here. (Please note: I am being sarcastic. Sort of.)

In A Chicken Basket
There are plenty of negative reviews of The Passion of The Christ, but Edelstein's at slate is quite boss (I realize no one but me and The Tick says 'boss' anymore, but, anyway) - "This is a two-hour-and-six-minute snuff movie—The Jesus Chainsaw Massacre—that thinks it's an act of faith." (Geoff Pevere at the Toronto Star also compared it, unfavorably, to the remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre - nope, not even the original.) I think this movie is going to win the Silver Lena Bok-Bok Award with no trouble whatsoever. Look Mel, I know Christ suffered - I mean, the symbol is a cross, right? - but to me the more interesting part of his life was, well, his life.

A Blog Called Catastrophe
Say what you like about his music (I like Avalanche, myself), but Matthew Good's live journal is actually worth reading - political, sure, but not without a sense of humor - Asses of Evil, indeed.

Hey, It's That Guy!
The Last Crossing, Guy Vanderhaeghe's novel, won the Canada Reads competiton - he is very happy about the whole thing - it was a close vote and passionately fought, but won on the strength of its language, which is how all writing should be judged.

Battle O' Tha Books
The third Canada Reads literary bunfight is currently underway; the books are all worth reading (as always) - Mordecai Richler, Alice Munro, Thomas King, Monique Proulx and Guy Vanderhaeghe - I have no idea which book will win in the Survivor-style elimination dance, but if the CBC knows what's good for it, a 'western' book will win; the previous two were set in that most disliked area, Central Canada. No matter which one wins, it will be more likely to sell than last year's winner, Next Episode.
Update: From what I heard this morning, Proulx will be the first to be voted off; the panelists are clamoring for plot and action. Update 2: Hmm...well, Munro was the first voted off, by the chairperson, Bill Richardson - he had to choose, because the panel couldn't. So much for Canada's short story queen...
Update 3: I missed yesterday's fight, but Richler was removed; and today Proulx got pruned. So I was right, it's two westerns - very different ones - that are up for the big prize. My vote goes to Green Grass, Running Water, if only because Jim Cuddy of Blue Rodeo's choice, The Last Crossing by Vanderhaeghe, isn't as funny. But maybe it is, in a different way? Don't know.
I do know that all of Bristol, England is supposed to read The Day of the Triffids, a really good and scary book.

O Urban Explorer, My Urban Explorer
I've put up a few new links in the past while, but the most intriguing by far is Infiltration; dig (ha!) their timeline of going where you shouldn't go, which started, apparently, with Walt Whitman. Was there nothing he couldn't do?

Support Your Local Modern Filmmaker
What's the trick to a movie doing well? A great script, inventive direction, swoonworthy cast? Well, yes, but getting people out to see the damn thing in the crucial first weekend is important too...considering what's coming up, there shouldn't be too much of a problem getting people to attend, I think, but the more, the merrier...(for those of you who don't live in Canada, well, wait for these to open where you are)...

1985 - Worst Rock Year Ever
Ever-venerable The Naked Maja has an amazing takedown of the year 1985, with praise and blame equally apportioned; the only song I was looking forward to reading about (I believe it did come out that year) which was missing was 'Til Tuesday's "Voices Carry," a song that builds up to the agonizing line "He wants me...but only part of the time" in a way that is enough to make me listen every time JACK bothers to play it.

Say "When"
Ordinarily I don't pay attention to the Toronto Board of Trade - not being a tradesperson myself - but the campaign they have on now, Enough of Not Enough is worth looking at if you want to send a message to everyone from the PM on down about how Toronto is getting what I believe is called the "fuzzy end of the stick" when it comes to finances. Personally I would like to see some of this money used to improve the city's libraries as well as transportation systems, not to mention education and well, everything else really. I can't think of one thing in Toronto that couldn't use some help (bring back Lola!)

12th c. Modern Lovers
If you haven't read up yet on Abelard and Heloise, then this book looks like the place to start - from the Guardian review: ' "To read in Abelard's account that she was little more than a piece of tail, that he was fired by lust and not friendship - and that it was she who caused his downfall - must have prompted another (internal) bonfire. With the directness that marks her style, she charges him to his face: "It was lust not affection that bound you to me, the heat of passion not love. When, therefore, what you wanted ceased, all your show of tenderness vanished too. This, my beloved, is not merely my view, but that of everyone." '

Drowned in Myth
The Guardian has a fine piece on the Shelleys, his death and their lives, what really happened and what could have been, had he known how to swim (he never learned): "Above all, we need to consider a Shelley who was a writer of genius still at the outset of his career, rather than at its end. And, with double irony, the same possibility for his wife Mary."

As Opposed To Project Vote Dumb
Yes, it's another leap year, another Year of the Monkey (1992 was the last one) and another chance to vote a Bush out of office ('92 ditto). If you are interested in registering to vote & finding out what is what in your state and nationally, drop by Project Vote Smart and it will give you what you need to know. Voting may seem like a vaguely naff thing to do, but with a second term of Bush madness looming on the horizon, naff seems like the least worst attribute going around...

The Joke That Tells Itself, And Then Stopped As No One Was Listening
Behold, in case you want to read about it, Martha Stewart's take on reality (and that of her fans.) I don't even think commentary is necessary here, as it has all become so overblown; and Law & Order has already done it's Marthaesque episode, to boot...

Possible Worlds
This is just a short note about a U of T production, Possible Worlds, starting this week and going until the 24th; a certain stylish person I am quite closely related to did the set design. Ok, she's my mom, but really, it's worth seeing. John Mighton is a cool person - I hope to interview him soon...

He's Back
So, there I was thinking Anthony Lane had been slipping as of late, and then I came across this, from the review ofTouching The Void: "So there he was, hanging by a single length of cord eight millimetres thick, in the gathering dark, in a snowstorm, in Peru, with Yates not only unable to hear his cries but also slowly sliding toward the abyss himself. Note to anybody who can’t decide whether to take the Midtown Tunnel or the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge in the morning: See this movie and shut up."

Actually, It Is A Table, Thank You
And there I was, thinking that Blankets was a big book. What little do I know. These things don't need shelves, they need shrines.

Total System Failure (Almost)
Of all the bad things that happened in Toronto last year, one of the worst ones was definitely the blackout of mid-August; however, no one knew what was going on at the time, nor could they really care - a lot of people just managed to keep living and on the whole the people of Toronto behaved quite well, which is good, because there would have been much freaking out if the real situation had been understood by the populace at large. I guess all the Y2K preparations were all for naught, if the water was so low and the emergency systems were nearly collapsing, and the gallant, generous offer of power from Manitoba was simply not dealt with because things were in such chaos. (I think Ontario did get some power from the west in the end, but not right away.) If anyone ever wants to know why the Liberals were elected provincially, well, I think it started when the power went out, and just grew from there...
and I wish I could say something about this - '"A call from a New York Times reporter in Albany to emergency officials in Ottawa asking whether "Canada's open-door immigration policy translates into terrorist threat to electrical grid." The hand-scribbled message says the reporter talked editors out of doing the story."' - besides, hello, it wasn't Canada's fault. Really, did anyone think it was a terrorist action, except perhaps in New York City, where presumably everything is interpreted that way?

Your Mood in Poetry
Well, Happy New Year - Belated, but better than never - to all the fine readers out there in CarrotRopeland - I will post on something a bit more serious shortly, but in the meantime, here is the Guardian's Poetry Mood Matcher, in case you want poetry but don't know what you want to read. Which is often the case with me, some days...(it is a funny quiz, as well, of course.)

Shaking, All Over
Because of the two earthquakes (so far) in the holiday season, I thought I would like to share my own remembrance of the earthquake from when I was a little girl.
It was scary. But at least no one in our family was killed. (The house suffered, for sure.) And as it's the first thing I remember in my life, I have had a rather odd feeling about earthquakes ever since; like, they are normal, and oddly homey, even though they bring nothing but destruction and woe. And yes, mine (it's not mine, but somehow it is) happened early in the morning, just like the one in Iran. (My aunt didn't want to get out of bed.) Everything shook and rattled, unevenly, and the nails were pulled from the floorboards; I can remember trying to walk and failing and being carried to the car (the only safe place) and how it all sounded, as well as looked. But I don't remember the next day. The foundation shifted, the roof was weak over the dining table, the balcony had to be pulled off (if it wasn't already) and the chimney had to be fixed. Like I said, the house suffered, but we were okay.
Here's another article about Bam: when info on how to help is available, I'll post it.

Update: Here's the info on what the Canadian Red Cross is doing and how to help.

Huh? What? Oh...
For those of you who have nothing better to do on the holiday break - and that may well be some of you, I don't know - there is always the venerable King William's College Quiz, the famously fiendish quiz given to the new students and then also published worldwide for pure migraine enjoyment. I got 4 on it, which is better than average, but not by one whole hell of a lot. If you're an Anglophile, or indeed are English, it will be easier, but not by much, I'm guessing. Best holiday wishes from me to you, and if you have an excess of snow, send it Toronto way - we need it...

Yosemite, Damn
It was almost 10 years ago now that I visited Yosemite National Park for the first time, and I will never forget seeing it, boom, after the ride through the hills (where there were many burnt & blackened trees) and the equally black tunnel; not a religious experience, but there are reasons people come from all over the world to climb the big rocks & enjoy the waterfalls. It's just freaking stunning; I mean that almost literally. Oh, yeah, there's a new book about rock climbing in Yosemite (not something I'd ever want to do; as I recall it, someone was left hanging - not literally, but, y'know, dangling - when we left), a desire so strong in some people that I guess it is a religious experience for them. Ah. I miss California, sometimes...

Many Happy Returns
First, if it has been your birthday lately (and I am suspecting for some of you it has), happy belated birthday and thanks for hanging in there. I hope none of you got Sting's memoir Broken Music for your day, as that would be, well, uh, not very good, apparently. I think there must be some inverse equation thingy to rock bios & memoirs, being that the less 'respectable' in a Stingeseque way the musician is, the better the book will be. There may be exceptions, for sure, but on the whole I'd rather be reading Lester Bangs...

Not Dead, Just Resting
I just wanted to reassure any readers that if you have written me, I will write you, and that the new Outkast single sounds not unlike a more melodic Wesley Willis. And every station in Toronto, save for the 'classic rock' ones and the 'perpetual holiday music' ones (gack) are playing it. Back, hopefully much sooner, with more unsolicited advice, praise, and so on. I have added some new links here, and hope to add a lot more, soon...

The New Guy
I listened to the CBC Radio One coverage of the election last night, but saw no photos; the cover of today's Globe and Mail has a smiling Miller waving, and there is a small red/pink/magenta (hard to tell) threaded bracelet thing on his right wrist. Any ideas as to what this is? Does anyone know? Besides a good luck charm? And yes, Barber's column is rather, uh, excessive, but "If David Miller can't create hope, there is none" is a bit of hyperbole that I can stand, for a day.

Girl Vs. Boys
I know this is an oblique point at best, but why is it that only one of the front-runners for the Mayor of Toronto is a woman, and one who was already Mayor? Is this something about how women would rather just concentrate on the one thing in the background & get things done, or are the most politically-savvy women just coming up in the ranks and will wait until next time? From what I have understood, the electorate are supposed to be beside themselves for change and getting things done pronto, and they don't associate Hall with either of those, because she is consultative and she doesn't speak very quickly. But Toronto is a much bigger & complex place than it was when Lastman was elected, and shouldn't there be a way to be consultative and also kick ass, so to speak? This year has proven, if any has, that it's the people of Toronto that can make a difference, and one would hope the new Mayor, whoever it turns out to be, would understand this. Anyway, I wish there was another woman running, if only to make the race more gender-balanced.

Last Chance City
I can't say I am too speedy about this, but dig: there is a cool blog on the Toronto municipal election up right now, Last Chance City brought to you by Rick McGinnis. As an American citizen (not dual, unfortunately) I can't vote, but I certainly can pay attention, and it seems as if the Miller train is all but unstoppable, with both eye and NOW endorsing him, on their covers, no less. Whether this has to do with his fondness for The Go-Go's is beyond me, though that can't hurt. Toronto is a city of quiet & not-so-quiet desperation right now, for many reasons, and the you-forgot-it-in-people vote may just bring Miller into power, as it did McGuinty & Co. last month.

Hey DJ, Play That Song
The Naked Maja has got a fine list of singles, 100 very fine songs you no longer have to feel guilty about loving. I can't say I know all of them, but I agree with the ones I do know. My only addition would be Hall & Oates' "I Can't Go For That", which De La Soul hardened into "Say No Go" and Simply Red are currently using for their song "Sunrise" so blatantly I keep thinking the original's on the radio. A good groove can't be forgotten.

As Opposed To...
Salon's Heather Havrilesky on the seemingly eternal bad news coverage in Southern California: ""During this time, you'll find yourself traveling through many different emotional states. First, of course, there's the sheer shock at how clownishly bad the local news coverage is here in "the Southland!" Not only are the newscasters chirpy and bizarre and inanimate, but they're also the only humans alive, other than maybe used car salesmen, who consistently refer to this area as "the Southland!" (Registration required, but worth it.)

It's Miller Time
For those of you who live in Toronto - hi - and want to vote and want to a good place to do a bit of research on the mayoral candidates and councillors, Vote Toronto, a very progressive site, is up and running. The site endorses David Miller, who seems to be the only candidate many people are taking seriously these days, even if they aren't NDP people themselves. Vote early, vote...

To Infinity and Beyond
If someone asked me to write a book about infinity, I'm afraid I would have to tell them to try someone else, but David Foster Wallace is not a man to be cowed by something that can't be defined: his new book, Everything and More: A Compact Guide to Infinity tackles the subject using math and logic, though where one starts and the other begins I don't know. Ordinarily I don't like to say "Oh, math is so hard, it hurts my girly head!", but, if you are like me and had to take lower level math just to get the credits, then you might enjoy this book for the style of DFW's writing than for any math you might learn. For those of you who don't want a math-induced headache, just the writing, a new book of stories by DFW is coming out next year.

The Cooldown
An interesting look at how a nation tried to be cool for a while, but then lost it and about how it wasn't really cool in the first place. Hint: cool people/places/cultures/prime ministers never claim to be "cool", "trendy", "fun" or, for God's sake, "young."

Top 10 Books I Got For Free at the UC Book Sale
Not that I have read all these books, of course. And I should point out that as nice as it is to get free books, these have to last the duration of the sale, avoiding the predatory eyes of dealers and curiosity of customers and our own staff, who (you bet) take books off tables before the sale even ends. Being a booksale worker is pretty much the only way to guarantee you get a book; but the price of that is fairly steep, including the mandatory red apron, nametag, and so on. All that said, and in no particular order:

A Month in the Country by J. L. Carr: I saw this movie back in '89 or so, liked it (Colin Firth, Kenneth Branagh, of course it's good), and never knew it was a book, but hey, it is. And it's a nice copy too. It was published by www.nybooks.com a few years ago.

Cloudy Day
Well now, how are you? Looks like my previous posting about the Book Sale got sucked into some cybersinkhole or something, so I thought I should just post here to say the Sale is over, I have more books than I know what to do with, and on a cold, winter-is-approaching day it was sad to hear about the death of Elliot Smith; chartattack has their inevitable 10 Reasons Why Elliot Smith Was Cool list, the sort of list I am tired of having to link, because so many great musicians have died this year. I still miss all the others who died as well, but to hear of someone actually younger than me has died is infinitely saddening. I can't say I know his music that well, but I like what I have heard, and that is good enough for me. I remember his performance of "Miss Misery" on the Oscars and thinking it was good that he was nominated, and that perhaps when Madonna rolled her eyes announcing Celine Dion's win, it was because she actually thought he should get the award instead. Such is my naive thinking in these matters, but there you are.

Don't Call Me Daughter
This report reminds me of a Jane Austen novel, where the daughters are all seen as a liability, and the more there are, the more batty/insane the parents are, though Mr. Woodhouse in Emma is pretty strange too, though he only has her to contend with. Divorce didn't really exist in Austen's day, but you can feel the tensions. But it is sad to see that for whatever reasons, having a daughter is more trouble - or is seen as being more trouble, anyway.

Find Him.
Some of you - I am not sure how many of you - may actually look at the fine list of sites here and wonder what on earth some of them are about. Good question. I usually just put up links (I apologize if they don't work, I do test them, if one doesn't, please let me know) and let you, the fine reader, hit it & see what magical world you are transported to. However, I thought I should put in a special request, esp. for any New York/New Jersey folks out there, to look at Operation Find Don. The link will fill you in on the details, but suffice it to say that Don is indeed worth finding, and Sars at Tomato Nation will appreciate any help you can give her in finding this man. If he is alive, he will be found, and I am sure he's still alive. Thanks.

Yes, I'd Like Room 641.59, Please
New York, it is a hell of a town. Go to a hotel, and get a room full of books coded to the Dewey Decimal System. However, I didn't know that the system isn't free, and I guess the Library Hotel didn't, either. (If I couldn't get the food writing room, then I would want the Literary Criticism room, if one exists.)

A First
I am only including this link because it's the first time I have seen the f-word in a headline at the Guardian. I have no idea if it's going to be repeated anywhere on air, but kudos to whoever said to run it. The sad death of Kelly has thrown the government and BBC into a complicated mess I am only just able to keep up with, unlike the US situation, where the screwups are a lot easier to figure out.

Not the New Laureate
While Louise Gluck adjusts to her new role of Poet Laureate, she may want to look at her competition in Washington. I hate to kick a man when his speeches are already being edited down for faux-haikus, but you can say anything (within reason) and say "That's life." Including, I guess, one day, "Bush didn't get as many votes as his opponent, so he lost. That's life."

A Small Plea
If anyone could tell me how to get in touch with Marcello Carlin, so I could write him personally & tell him how much I love his blog, The Church of Me, I would really appreciate it. Early Elton John, the new Outkast and lots more are ready for your admiration.

Dubious Achievement
In the new Esquire, there is a list of "Seventy Things That Make Us Very Happy To Be Alive Today": Number 21 will have to be removed and replaced: "The inspiring stick-to-it-iveness of John Ritter." I'm not saying this list is the kiss of death, but other people mentioned - Maggie Gyllenhaal, Michael Jackson, John Goodman, Yao Ming, Jennifer Coolidge, etc. - should perhaps go to the doctor, just to make sure. Oh, and the Absolut-sponsored insert? Irritating, and I wish I could be bothered to read it, but I tried & gave up.

Cough, Cough
For those of you who were wondering, yes I am still alive, but have been fighting a cold for a few days, though I was well enough yesterday to be out for my usual rounds, though a little more warm & hoarse than usual. During my illness I have had my usual sleeplessness at times, during which I pondered the utter uselessness of Snarkwatch, and how in particular Rick Moody would have been much more amusing in his protest of James Fenton's review of Robert Lowell's Collected Poems. What Moody should have done, especially as he is a "millionaire socialite" (or so says the Underground Literary Alliance [if they are so underground, why are they online?]; I have not been interested enough in Mr. Moody to actually check to find out if this is true) is tracked down a decent Italian-English dictionary and sent it to Fenton (or perhaps gotten a minion to do all that hard work for him) with an appropriately chummy yet dismissive note, like "Dear James: I heard you need one of these, and was shocked you didn't own one yet. Please use it, it really does help. Your Pal, Rick. P.S. Loved your gardening book." Alas this would never happen, which is too bad because it's funnier than Snarkwatch could ever be.

Keep Those Flags at Half Mast
While I didn't grow up in a Johnny Cash-loving household, I did notice that my father had a few of his albums, in particular I Walk The Line. I can't add much, but 21 Reasons Why Johnny Cash Was Cool from Chart magazine is, as they say, just a modest list of his life and work. I will admit that I used to grimace a little, when in the 90s I'd hear his live version (recorded at the Viper Room) of "Tennessee Stud," not because of him but of the yahoos in the audience. And his duet with June, "Jackson," is sexy and funny at the same time. If there is a heaven, I am sure they have been reunited. Update: One man in black talks about another: Nick Cave talks about Johnny Cash, and how he learned music could be a beautiful and evil thing from him.

He assaulted me with deadly metaphor...
I just read this at the Toronto Star site: "Dalton McGuinty: He's an evil reptilian kitten-eater from another planet," said a release from Eves's campaign headquarters, e-mailed to news organizations across the province on Friday morning in the latest, and most bizarre, Tory attack on the Liberal leader. You know, even if Dalton McGuinty was all that, he'd still be a better choice for Premier of Ontario than Eves. Can't imagine what Kinsella's reaction will be, besides laughter. Other than that, I won't say a thing.

Local, Yokel
For those who can hear it, Chuck Klosterman is on CBC Radio One 99.1 right now, as the guest on Here and Now. I didn't know it was him at first, but then he played the new Strokes single and said he was interviewing them all week for SPIN. I know it's not fashionable to say, but he does sound like he's a yokel. And the new Strokes single has very old school new wave synth on it.

Stiff Upper Lip and All That
In which Christopher Hitchens tells everyone to sack up, it's going to be a long war. I wish I had some adequate comeback, but will no doubt write about his non-showing up (due to war of course) at U of T one day.

Listen to the Train, Listen to the Tracks
Warren Zevon has left us. As tween in Los Angeles in the late 70s, I can only say that of all the endless Linda Ronstadt songs I heard on the radio (serious FM radio, as opposed to non-serious AM), Zevon's were the best, and it was a delight, always, to hear anything by him in between the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Steely Dan and the rest of the late 70s LA rock giants. However, his own version of "Poor Poor Pitiful Me" is the definitive one. I had a book at the time about the California rock scene, and Zevon was by far my favorite singer-songwriter profiled; he made everyone else seem so earnest and serious. Update: 10 Reasons Why Warren Zevon Was Cool at Chart magazine.

Waiting for the Paperback
"Sure, I know I shouldn’t slag a whole slew of books if I’ve never read any of them. It’s prejudicial. But if there’s ever been a collection of covers that thoroughly turns my stomach, it’s Danielle Steel’s." So says the all-knowing Mastication is Normal's monthly report on book cover design. Also: sideways writing, the evil of embossed/printed logos, and Doug Coupland. Even if you don't know a thing about typefaces, it's great stuff.

Anvils Aweigh
As you may or may not expect, I am a fan of the Guardian's Digested Read feature in their wonderful Books section. It saves me and countless others time in keeping up with current literature, and is funny as well. The recent review of Martin Amis's Yellow Dog has freed me from ever having to read the book in the first place. Cough. Not that I would, of course. Now then, are he and Hitchens still friends? I can never keep up with literary gossip...

Love and Marriage, pt. 89
Lately I have been reading Here Comes the Bride by Jaclyn Geller, a good feminist look at the conventional trappings of a wedding, from the ring to the cake, the honeymoon and the dress - 'marriage mystique' as the subtitle puts it - with a mixed sense of understanding (it was ever thus) and amazement, mostly at the more fancy, extravagant weddings celebrities have. Anyway, I got it from my usually helpful public library. But, when I wanted to take out Against Love: a polemic by Laura Kipnis, well, there's only one copy on order and it's only for reference. (I don't know if it's the cover that's to blame.) Where Geller looks at a woman and says why is she either married or a spinster, but leaves marriage itself out, Kipnis attacks the idea of marriage altogether, never mind the rites and rituals, though she may talk a bit about them, how do I know? Good review of it at slate, in any case, and yes, it's going on my embarrassingly long wish list, though on a kind of 'Now what the hell did I want to read? Oh yeah' basis. And yes, I am also waiting to get the Lester Bangs new one, as well as Al Franken, Molly Ivins (not nearly as popular as either of the above) and who knows what else.

Made in America
I was going to write about this, but in the humid stupor of August I forgot about it, but the good people at Fametracker didn't - things (in this case, movies) beginning with American. I think this is a trend that should be stopped, or at least fined, until it goes back to its normal frequency, just as any book called ---------- Nation should also be halted, immediately. However, the most interesting (I use this term in its 'interesting times' meaning) is surely David Denby's upcoming book American Sucker, based on the dissolution of his marriage to novelist Cathleen Schine, who left him for a woman. And while we are in the New Yorker cinema criticism neighborhood, is it just me, or has Anthony Lane been a bit off lately? I keep thinking it's because of the success of I Don't Know How She Does It, but maybe I am wrong.

40 Years Ago Today
This is the text of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s speech on the Mall in Washington D.C. that he gave four decades ago today. It is the most famous speech in the world. I can't say much more, but if you have the time, read up on him; it is worth it. Ho Che Anderson's graphic novels on him are worth looking at too, and his concluding book is out now.

Oh, the Shame
Well, first she says she doesn't read her reviews, but then Phair says she wrote her rather naff letter to the Times because..."Well, that's because that's my poor mother's paper. I didn't want to be personally attached to... I had to defend myself to The New York Times to make it safe again for my friends and family." Safe from what, exactly? I'm just glad Phair wrote one letter, really. One was more than enough.

Meanwhile...
I sometimes wonder just what the hell is going on in Iraq. Over this distracting spring/summer (SARS, blackout, Blue Jays, impending elections, etc.) I have been noticing more and more U.S. deaths in Iraq, but now it's official: more people have died after the war ended than ever did during the war. Part of me sits and sounds like some old crusty guy who learned Latin in high school in '34 and wonders what the hell, why doesn't anyone read Virgil anymore, this wouldn't be happening if everyone had read Virgil, grumble grumble. Another part of me just thinks that really, the war was won, but the peace has been lost. If this goes on, then the Democrats have a chance, though I would like to think they already have a chance, as it is.

Girls and Radios
The usual, last night; I wake up and try to find something to listen to, and end up enjoying Coldplay's live-in-Toronto version of "Clocks" for the umpteenth time, complete with a bit of crowd singalong and the adlibbed praise of Toronto at the end. I woke up after dreaming that John K. Samson of The Weakerthans gave me a mix(ed) tape. (No, I didn't play it in my dream. That would be too much.) While waiting to go back to sleep I thought about the slate article on Justin Timberlake and how those big serious rock critics don't give pop songs any credit, at least that's what I think it was about, and how these rock critics (the male ones) want to get away from any music beloved of girls, as if the music itself would give them girl cooties or something. And yet Justified is shown to be a big hit with everyone, and not just girls. These days it's not what the girls like that bother the critics, but rather the women who are their peers and the female musicians their age. I don't mean to harp on the careers of Juliana Hatfield, Aimee Mann, et al, but there is no place on them for the radio so girls can hear them in the first place; and I can't think of a worse time for female singers or groups on my local alternative station, where only newcomer FeFe Dobson seems to be pushed at all.
In other news, after hearing Duran Duran's "A View to a Kill" on JACK (okay, I was desperate), I think it's safe to say that a) they were a good group, in their original lineup and b) Simon LeBon wrote some of the most, um, metaphorical lyrics around. It's fun to try to figure out what they are about, though they always end up being just what they are, really.

Absenteeism
Well, at first I got an email from Democrats Abroad saying that I was eligible, because I vote absentee from beautiful Alameda county, that I should register pronto for the recall vote for governor this fall. Oh, I thought, that's odd, but then, looking at the list of possible replacements, that oddness was all part of the event. I just heard today that unless I was temporarily away - and I think I've been more than temporarily away for some time now - that if I tried to register then I could be charged with a felony of some kind or other. It's kind of a relief, though I still want a Democrat to win, of course.

Dorothy's Day
Because I am not sure if anyone else will care, and TMFTML is gone for the rest of the month, let me say Happy Birthday to the late Dorothy Parker, who did not invent snark but rather perfected it. And she wrote some fine poems and stories too.

Darkness on the Edge of Town (and in Town, for that matter)
The blackout, as seen from outer space. Interesting to see that Toronto isn't as bright & shiny as the U.S. cities in the first place, and when the blackout hit, it disappears completely. Which reminds me, Radiohead was supposed to play here last night, and I have no idea if they will play here soon or what. In any case, I was here about to post when the power went, and I managed to survive, though I didn't have a radio. Not having a radio sucks, of course.

Our Long National Nightmare Is Over
Okay, maybe it's my nightmare, but finally Sloan have a new album coming out; eye saw fit to write about them, and put them on the cover too, which was nice. However, despite this happiness, I want the humid, stupefying weather to go, and soon. I want to be able to sleep at night and not wake up at some inhuman hour (usually 330) and, not wanting to turn Blanche Neige on, I listen to the radio. Make that try to listen to the radio. Why is it there is no actual 'adult alternative' station in the greater Toronto area? Why is JACK so painfully bad and apparently run by computers (I heard the same M+M song twice in about an hour and a half; I rest my case)? If it wasn't so expensive (I am guessing) to get a licence and set up a radio station then I would, and it would play all kinds of people who get minimal, if any, play on the radio, plus cool album tracks and so on. It would sound like a good mixed tape/cd and have no commercial potential whatsoever, but at least it wouldn't sound computerized. Sheesh.

1982, Hallowed be Thy Name
1982: A Year of Singles Charted is strangely compelling, even though it's UK singles and not US or Canadian. Doesn't matter. Besides, if you listened to CFNY here in Toronto, you know all the more avant garde stuff. Ace quote, on The Associates' "Party Fears Two": "OK, maybe less than 20 weeks to give the doomed MacKenzie and Rankine a spell at the top. A surrealist scenario which lyrically would not have been out of place in the work of Throbbing Gristle, set to an IMAGINED idyll of Abba/Bowie/Sylvester. The most subtly sexual performance on TOTP ever. A glory. THIS GOT INTO THE TOP TEN." Damn right. I must give props to TMFTML for this; and yes, there will be a permalink.

Weisblogg Returns
The venerable blog, run by Marc Weisblott, has indeed returned after a summer hiatus. All should cheer. Who else would heroically continue an interview with Danii Minogue after finding out said interview was being taped for a reality tv show?

From Liverpool to Pasadena, With Love
I don't know how many years Van Halen have to wait until they get into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, but if you think they rock (or if you don't), read Julian Cope's (yes, that's right) appreciation of them and rock on, man.

The Only Marriage I've Ever Watched On TV
...would be this one. I barely remember any of it, though I do remember there being a flattering puff piece (redundant, I know) on Prince Charles in Vogue at the time, talking about how engagingly square he was. Cough. Am I the only person who wants William to be the next king, if there has to be a monarchy at all?

Same As It Ever Was
There are some days when I feel nostalgic. And I feel bad about it, because nostalgia is a sickness, of sorts. I don't miss my distant past, when my father was alive; I miss the feeling I had and the world had and apparently even Fred Durst had for a few moments in late September, 2001. Is it wrong to feel nostalgic for this? I don't want to diagnose the problem too generally, but when something traumatic happens; you change; and then you have to move forward from that change, and in an imaginative, creative way. I am so sorry that Mr. Durst has not been able to do this.

Don't Keep Truckin'
NOW Magazine is presently offering the public trucker hats. I don't know if I am the last blog on earth to mention these dreadful things, which look good on almost no one, but here goes: only if you can claim you are a trucker should you be able to wear one, OR if you remember the tv show in the 70s, Movin' On AND can sing every word of "Convoy" outside of a karaoke club, including the CB dialogue.

And now, the return of the Rope/Do You Know JACK?
Yes, I am back. Mr. Blue died, officially the announcement was last Friday; however I now have a new machine, much like him but much more powerful and all-white, but not in an oppressive way. For trivia buffs, she's Blanche Neige. Updates should start soon. In the meantime...this may mean nothing to most of you, but there is a new radio station here in Toronto (I listened to a lot of radio when I was bereft of internet, which was a lot of the time) called JACK - I don't know it's actual call letters - and it has no announcers and takes no requests. It is the oddest station too; the playlist is a mish-mash so odd it is as if you took 15 people about my age or so & forced them in a room & didn't let them out until they could name 100 songs from the past 25 years or so that they liked, and then paid them some measly amount & let them go. "Playing What We Want" is the perpetual slogan, though who "we" are is debatable. Still haven't heard any Sloan (the Cancon is rather dull), but as a concept it is weirdly snobby and yet unpredictable. Kind of like Toronto itself, at times...

Almost, But Not Quite
Hello, hello. Mr. Blue caught a bad break last week: the part that was ordered in, well, it was defective, so a new one had to be ordered & now that is being installed. So he may be back this week, unless he is playing a game with the service people. Hey, I named him, so why not give him a personality? I finally heard the Liz Phair single "Why Can't I?" the other day. It reminded me (and I'm not saying this in any cheesecakey way, it just happens to be the closest one I can find) of a frozen banana cream pie I'd tried not too long ago. The thing with Liz - and the pie - was that essentially they weren't that bad, but there was a layer of artificiality to both of them, as if to ensure perpetual freshness. With the pie, the crust was good, the filling was banana, but the actual cream was too oily and chemical, and left the proverbial 'ugh' taste in the mouth. With the song, the production and music are wrong for the lyrics. I mean, forget the swearing (taken out when I heard it, and it was after 9) - the song is full of the usual conflicts in Phair songs, there's guilt and adultery, lots of it, and infatuation and so on, but somehow it doesn't work. And the chorus, in which Liz keeps wondering why she can't think or breathe, keeps being repeated, and the listener - okay, me - wonders - is there more to this relationship? What about him, what is he like, this provocative guy? Why is she so worried, if they are meant for each other? Hello, what is the problem here? The song is like a long story that is promising, but then gets bogged down and never gets to what is actually interesting. In the case of the pie, it needed a better topping, more crust; in the case of the song, Liz needs (and no, not in the video, though I am guessing the 'bigger picture' isn't there) to explain what is going on, rather than just harping on what this guy does to her. Otherwise, just cover "What You Do To Me" by Teenage Fanclub and get it over with, already.

Weapons of Mass Satire
A small update here: yes, I am still alive. Yes, my computer is being fixed. And yes, the war is still on and smart satire isn't dead. I don't know if it's proper to give e-hugs to bloggers I don't know, but if you need an e-hug, consider it done. Carrot Rope will be back to normal in about a week, if all goes well.

The Sky Cries "Liz"
You know, I don't think Juliana Hatfield (who is only a few months younger than Phair), if panned in the New York Times, would respond with a letter that combines bad chicklit with bad Chicken Little. Phair writes as if she somehow thinks this is cute. Cute is not what we want, Liz.

M. Blue is dead; Long Live M. Blue
My computer, the venerable near-antique iMac named Mr. Blue, collapsed this morning into non-responsive blackness, likely due to the keyboard freaking out or the screen itself burning out; hard to say. Updates here will still happen, but in a more spasmodic way. In the meantime, thanks to all who have discovered Carrot Rope, linked it to their blogs, and otherwise pay attention. It is very much appreciated!

BSS Review
Lately, Broken Social Scene's You Forgot It In People has been getting a lot of attention; this review is funnier & more accurate than most. On "Stars and Sons": "Ah, this song: it's kind of like the musical equivalent of running up a hill and declaring yourself lord over all you see. Then rolling back down to do it all over, again and again..."

The Great Big Green Monster
No, I don't mean The Hulk, or even the big wall out in Fenway, but envy (okay jealousy too). In this case, Kathryn Chetkovich felt it big time over Jonathan Franzen and his success with The Corrections. How low could she go? She doesn't mention the Oprah fiasco, but once you admit that 9/11 at least gave you a break for a minute over feeling guilty, envious and so on, then you know it's got to be bad. Very bad. Oh - the ex-wife mentioned is Valerie Cornell, whose essay in By Herself: Women Reclaim Poetry, "On Being Unable to Read," is definitely worth reading, even if you haven't broken up with Franzen recently.

Girls With Guitars
The cover of the new album Liz Phair reminded me of something at first but I couldn't remember what: then I recalled the cover of Last of the Independents by the Pretenders. Liz holds her guitar like she's in love with it, and Chrissie holds it like a weapon. Hmm.

Led Zeppelin=Sex
I can't say if that's true, or if any of the other assertions Sasha Frere-Jones makes are true either, but it's a fun article and it does make the point, which I always knew in a way, that Led Zep are not metal but actually somewhere between rock, blues and reggae (Dread Zeppelin anyone? Oh, okay.) And I don't know the Beastie Boys song referenced here, but "A Year and a Day" is sped-up Bonham, for sure.

Suspense? Who Needs It?
In a mind-boggling display of no fun, the National Post has already run an obit on the character that dies in the new Harry Potter novel. Would they do this if it was a highly-anticipated movie? I don't think so. And yet revealing this important plot point is somehow okay. They must think everyone who has a copy of the new book immediately turned towards the end. Some people do this as a matter of habit, but I only do it when the plot looks thoroughly predictable. And, if very early reviews are to be believed, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix isn't.

Hyperbole, 19th c. Style
I've been trying to do some research on my grandfather and my father on the net - and I came across this bit of advertising for Fairbury, Nebraska, written just a few years before my grandfather's birth:
"The city of Fairbury is the county seat of Jefferson county, Neb., and situated upon the Little Blue river, sixty-eight miles southeast of Lincoln, with which it has railroad communication by competing lines. It is nine miles north of the Nebraska and Kansas line on the famous fortieth parallel of latitude. The idea is now familiar that along this parallel and near it, around the girdled globe, lie denser populations, more large cities, health more generally enjoyed, wealth more generally diffused, commerce more widespread, and culture, morality and religion have higher and fuller sway, than on any line north or south of it. On this line are developed the greatest men, the world has ever seen. Let one not familiar with this fact take a globe and follow around it the fortieth parallel of north latitude and he will be surprised to find how much of all that is best is found near this genial and equable line. "
More on the lovely town with the greatest men on earth can be found here.

Happy Juneteenth, Everyone!
Today is Juneteenth. I was unaware of it until I heard a woman on the CBC a few months ago mention it in passing, and thought I should post on it, if only to give you the above link. I first came across the word as a Ralph Ellison novel title, but didn't know what it meant.

TN Updates
If you don't read Tomato Nation this may not concern you, but if you do and you're wondering what the hell's up with the site, I strongly advise you to join the mailing list (link at the bottom of TN's main page); particularly if you want to find out what Sars is up to - currently she's promising a CHiPS drinking game, though more standard columns are promised, as soon as her whole hosting service problems are ironed out. (Update: if you go here then you can find it as well, though cutting and pasting will be necessary.)

Stuck in My Head
I've had The New Pornographers' "The Laws Have Changed" stuck in my head lately, so when I read Christgau on them it sounds like he's being trifling: "Earns its buzz. Tremendous craft, winning enthusiasm. You'll remember every song when it comes on—maybe even when it doesn't, hum hum. But if it has a point beyond whistling at the void, it declines to mention what that point might be. Also, I wish the sparingly deployed Neko Case would abandon her faux-country career." Somehow, I don't think he's getting it; this is a Canadian band, and all Canadian artists, to one extent or another, whistle at the void. It's a damn big country, y'know. There is no other point, except to have fun.

The Next Generation
I recently went to a birthday party. The woman who was celebrating her birthday is pregnant; the couple have already chosen a name, Wesley. The discussion about this name was lively, and reminded me that there should be a list out by now of the most popular baby names in the US for 2002, and so there is. I am always interested in reading it, to see how my name fares (always in the 500s somewhere) and what is popular and new, or rather popular and weird. For boys: Logan at 30 (could it be re-runs of Law & Order ?), Angel (46 - must be the tv show), Jayden, Colton, Gage (no idea, and it's 143), Kaden (the '-den' names are numerous), Trenton (184), Maximus (Gladiator lives on at 315), and Justice, which I always thought was a woman wearing a blindfold, at 338. The principle for naming boys is relatively straightforward in comparison to girls; boys just have to sound manly. People name girls entirely differently, and I don't just mean with 'girly' names. Madison is second, for instance. Destiny is 34, Trinity is at 70 (The Matrix I guess), Autumn is at 73 (beating out Summer at 153). Brooklyn, Genesis, Diamond, Heaven, Serenity, Eden, Precious, Liberty; all girls' names. The Oscar winner for last year, Halle, makes it in at 314. I keep thinking of perfumes and patriotism when it comes to these names, not to mention how are you going to ni