Edmonton police say cause of pregnant mother's death undetermined, Le Conseil de l'industrie forestière tire à boulets rouges sur les Innus
chris lloyd
Wed, Jul 20, 2005 at 7:13 AM
To: pm@pm.gc.ca
Dear Paul,
I forgot to tell you all about our Detroit adventure. As we were
passing through Detroit on our way home the other night we ended up
behind what must have been a drunk driver. He was swerving back and
forth, occupying both lanes, riding the brake. Luckily he left the
highway before causing any damage. Our exit, to the bridge and / or
tunnel, was under construction and totally impassable. There were
detour signs up so we followed those until they inexplicably
disappeared. Yep, just as if someone decided, halfway through the job,
to just fuck it, and went for beer or drugs, dumping the remainder of
the signs in the gutter or dumpster somewhere. So we drove, a bit
aimlessly, through that lovely part of Detroit that best recalls
________ (insert name of any city recently fallen victim to plague,
civil war, bombings or severe cicil unrest), what with its empty,
boarded up buildings, weed-ridden empty lots and darkened streets. We
did find our way to the tunnel, after getting directions at an
overly-bright gas station where we used the washroom and the handicap
handle fell completely off the wall. Not much of a story; we didn't
even have problems at customs, although the guy hassled us a bit about
whether or not we bought stuff (we said that we hadn't; …)
Last night we decided to smoke a joint and bike downtown to watch
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. We smoked in a park. By the time we
got to the theatre I was feeling the effects and shackling our two
bicycles together became quite an ordeal. The ads at the start of the
film pretty much ruined the high. What is going on with that? The ads
are getting longer and longer and more stupid and inane. Do we really
need a five minute hair tonic ad followed by lip gloss followed
by…well, whatever followed was equally dumb, but we were hiding our
eyes and blocking our ears for the remainder, As a rule, from now on,
we aren't going into the theatre until TEN MINUTES after the start
time. You can tell your good buddy ad execs the same. I'm not paying
to watch stupid TV ads. You've heard of road rage? Well multiply that
by ten and you've got the hottest new insanity trend on the market: Ad
Rage. It's only a matter of time before regular citizens begin to
completely lose it in front of billboards, especially those rotating
ones on the backs on trucks, or better yet, the big-arse ones hanging
off the back of planes—haven't these people heard of Kyoto? I hope
they are getting fined up the ying-yang—but also the little, insidious
ads, like the ones in bathrooms, or parking meters, on buses, online,
on sidewalks, ads designed to look like 'zines, they will all start to
send folks into paroxysms of rage, mark my words, it will be worse
than Dawn of the Dead.
So CATCF was fun, Johnny Depp turns in a fine Michael Jackson-inspired
Willy Wonka, very bizarre mannerisms, the human and digital
choreography was spectacular, the Oompa Loompas—all of them played by
one actor, that little East Indian guy whom I best remember playing a
part in the X-Files, quite creepy actually, on the show he plays a
beggar who is missing his legs and riding around on a platform,
scaring the bejeezus out of everyone with an even, malicious glare—But
as an Oompa Loompa—or rather, as ALL the Oompa Loompas—he comes across
more as a resigned, slightly disgruntled but also content,
post-colonial refugee coffee addict. Here is the Oompa Loompa poem for
the Mike Teavee section of the book, copied from some Willy Wonka #1
fan site (I hope it is accurate. I'd like to place my hand on a new
copy to read, seeing as it has been around twenty years since the last
time I read it):
"The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set–
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all the shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink–
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSES IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK–HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY...USED...TO...READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic takes
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy–Winkle and–
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How The Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole–
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks–
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something good to read.
And once they start–oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hears. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
P.S. Regarding Mike Teavee,
We very much regret that we
Shall simply have to wait and see
If we can get him back his height.
But if we can't–it serves him right."
The whole movie had me laughing, which was good, as I had been
freaking myself out earlier while sitting in the theatre listening to
people talking and getting all paranoid (are those people talking
about ME? Why is that? What am I DOING with my life? Etc. etc.). And
while we're on the topic of paranoia, what's this I hear about the
Canadian "peacekeepers" heading back to Afghanistan, and some GWB
brownnoser named as head of the Canadian army? Are we actually looking
for some kind of fight, maybe feeling a bit left out since most other
US-supporting countries have had terrorist attacks already? Are we
feeling inadequate and want to inspire one of our own? Is this why the
media is constantly going on about it, the politicians too? Wag the
Dog? Why not jump on board W's endless War on Terror, what a fitting
title for the sickest display of human greed and ignorance trumping
compassion and all things genuine.
So today I worked with Mohanad, he asked me at 7:15 Am to come work
with him, they were short a man at the job we were at last week, so
I'll work on Kate's tomorrow. The painting job they had started there
is terrible; wood not sanded, bad caulking, streaks in the paint, no
sanding between coats, construction not finished, painting over raw
plaster, it's a travesty. The boss is an idiot and hires cheap
hackers.
Tonight I met Claudine after work and we cycled to the Toronto
reference library, then picked up some videos from another branch,
then had supper at The Butler's Pantry on Roncesvalles and wine and a
chocolate truffle from the Idoru wine bar down the street. Figure
since I'll soon be working in a wine bar I should see how some are
run, and practice my wine tasting. Yum!
-chris
PS: Sorry about the delay in sending this but the internet connection
is down; maybe this is part of the periodic brownouts and rolling
blackouts Ontario is supposed to experience due to the recent heat
wave?
