Pióro

On today’s very funky Put the Needle On the Record show hosted by Billy Jam, the WFMU DJ played Afrika Bambaataa’s version of Soul Makossa. If you spent a good part of 1983 trying to moonwalk to Michael Jackson’s Thriller, you will hear echoes of I Wanna Be Starting Something, especially the final bridge, which features the chant “Mama-se, mama-sa, mama-coo-sa.” Jackson was referencing Soul Makossa, a single by Cameroonian saxophonist Manu Dibango, which is supposedly the first disco record. Bambaataa got a hold of the song for his 2004 album Dark Matter: Moving At The Speed Of Light. I can’t vouch for the original, but Bambaataa’s is an excellent, driving piece of sci-fi tribalism.

My ballot was the seventh to go into the square R2-D2 by the gymnasium doors at the St. Albans Boys and Girls Club. Although the ballot slid into the machine face down, the marks I had made with a black Sharpie had bled through. I’m sure the dude manning the box could figure out who I voted for if he looked closely.

It seems I’ve set a dangerous precedent on my blog: mixing sarcasm and environmental issues. Some Canadian environmental activists in Nairobi tried to use sarcasm to critique Rona Ambrose’s horrible performance as Environment Minister, but they’ve been accused of being “sexist and gratuitous.” The offensive comment—a dig involving Ms. Ambrose’s hair—came out of a newsletter circulated amongst delegates in Nairobi. The anonymous writers of the letter should have shown more modesty. To propose that someone has better hair than skill as an environment minister is too great of a taboo in our culture. They should have simply said Ms. Ambrose eats children.

Globe and Mail columnists seem as receptive to environmental concerns as Republicans (Arnold Schwarzenegger excluded). A few weeks back, Margaret Wente wrote a feature about how her week-long use of the TTC had reaffirmed her love for her SUV, which she holds dear not only because her vehicle gets her around town, but because it functions as a four-wheeled purse. Last Saturday, Rex Murphy explored his suspicions surrounding the rhetoric of Sir Nicholas Stern’s report, which predicted that unchecked climate change could carry a $7 trillion price tag for the world’s economy. Murphy found similarities between Stern shocking figure and Joey Smallwood’s penchant for wowing his listeners with big numbers: “This new road (school, industry) is going to cost NOT 10 million dollars, NOT 20 million dollars, but FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS!” The Globe columnist sees Stern’s figure as simply a rhetorical flourish.

Now, I have no problem with cutting through rhetoric that is used to cloud or mask poor arguments, but I don’t understand why Murphy is singling out Stern. The knighted economist isn’t your run-of-the-mill dirty hippy beseeching you to give Momma Earth some TLC. Stern has been to Cambridge, Oxford and the London School of Economics. His report is based on many estimates, but that’s what economists do, isn’t it? Why is it that an economist’s estimates are seen a rhetoric when he’s dealing with the environment? What’s up Mr. Murphy? What’s with your hate on for the environment? What, you find it too hard to sort your waste into biodegradables, recyclables and garbage?

OK, those questions weren’t just rhetorical. They had some ad hominem mixed with hasty generalization.

Sir Nicholas Stern’s stern warning about climate change will probably have a greater effect than over thirty years of campaigning by various environmental groups. Stern says pollution will hurt our pocket books, which is much less abstract—and probably more frightening—than our grandchildren living on a toxic planet. Fine. Whatever works.

Since Warren and Agnes are back in Toronto and almost used to “not travelling” (a difficult transition, which I can attest too), the title of “Envy inducing travel stories” now goes to Simon and Claire. The latter couple are zipping around the world in ten months, which sounds simply breakneck. I’m impressed, jealous and watching their site closely.

Other blogs to note are my sister’s—which proves that infrequent updates run in the family—and the musical musings of the mysterious M. Moustache. Please note the elegant look sported by both these sites. Familiar, no?

Elif has just gotten back from Stratford and says Pebbled was well received. She lucked out with the film’s placement in the programme. It fell in the same group as Soldier of God, which drew a large crowd. Friday she’s off to DC. I’m wondering how long of a pedal DC is from Toronto.

If you’re not at the Distillery District by now, you’re late! Pebbled is on. I’m going tomorrow. The full details go like this:

Distillery District
55 Mill Street
Toronto, Ontario

Performance Locations & Times
Outdoor: Tank Lane
Thursday, August 11th 9-10pm
Friday, August 12th 9-10pm
Saturday, August 13th 9-10pm
Sunday, August 14th 9-10pm

Indoor: ARTCORE Gallery
Saturday, August 13th, 1pm & 3pm
Sunday, August 14th, 1pm & 3pm

Kat has dones a wonderful job with the new Pebbled site. The new new thing to check out is the Get Framed contest, a nice way for viewers to participate in the Pebbled experience.

The other week I was complaining to Elif about how crummy fFIDA has been on the promotion front. Only her name was on the fFIDA’s web site and the same was true for others involved with the Distillery Site Works. Elif came to the organiser’s defence, saying that not only are the people at fFIDA really busy right now, they also don’t have a whole lot of money. Of course they don’t. When do artistic events ever have enough funding? Apologies to fFIDA. Now, Elif does have her bio and a short description of Pebbled on the fFIDA site.

I have a “dis-in-waiting” for the next over-zealous Russophile I meet. It’s not a common practice for me—to store up bons/mauvais mots—but sometimes inspiration hits and you think maybe you’ve got a keeper. For example, just yesterday I found the perfect way to translate “shit-tastic” into French: merde-ific. Truly inspired.

I’ve reserved the Russophile dis for a hyperactive Russian/Slavic studies undergrad who’s just finished reading some Dostoyevsky and taking a few language courses. As soon as he (it will undoubtedly be a ‘he’) breaks into nonsense about the Russian soul or the greatness of Russia, I will counter with, “The only things Russians are truly good at are literature and subjugation.” After finishing Ryszard KapuÅ›ciÅ„ski’s Imperium, I feel the dis is all the more apt.
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