Those of us who paid attention in school (at least periodically) will recall that, in English at least, double negatives are a bad thing. They cancel each other out; as a result you often end up saying the opposite of what you mean to say. For example, if one were to say "I didn't say nothing", that might be interpreted as meaning that I did in fact say something.
For your edification, I submit the following question: does the same sort of principle apply to other restrictive declarations? This morning I saw a sign that read:
"Faux imitation leather chairs"
Do "faux" and "imitation" cancel each other out? Is this chair really made with good ol' cowhide? Or does "faux" actually intensify the imitationiness, i.e. this is not even imitation leather, but some crude knock-off of imitation leather?
To really have some fun, let's throw another spanner into the works:
"Genuine faux imitation leather chairs"
And people wonder why machine translation still hasn't become a reality...
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
AARRRGGGHHH! Hulk ANGRY!
I don't think of myself as a particularly demanding guy. Generally speaking, I'm patient and I'm usually willing to put up with a lot. But I absolutely hate it when the geniuses who run TV channels don't put the flippin' shows on when they say they will.
Let me say right now that I think the PVR (that's Personal Video Recorder for those of you who came late) is one of the great inventions of the past few years. I use mine to record all my favorite programs whenever they come on. Because my schedule can be unpredictable, I count on my PVR, and the digital program guide it runs from, to be accurate so that when I get home all my programs will be there, ready for me to watch at my leisure. The best part of the PVR/program guide integration is that if, for some crazy reason, a show winds up being pre-empted or shown on another night, the PVR will catch the change, as long as the program guide is updated in time.
This evening I was positively giddy about being home to watch the second-season premiere of "Sleeper Cell" on The Movie Network. "Starts December 10 at 10 pm", I read. Being just a little, er, retentive, I checked my digital cable program guide: there it was, 10 pm. Sooooo, at a couple of minutes before 10 I curled up in my comfy leather recliner and switched over to channel 537, all ready to see what kind of trouble Oded Fehr and Michael Ealy and the boys can get into this year...
and what did I discover? To use the vernacular of the TV biz, I joined regular programming already in progress! The #&^%$ show started at 9! Impardonable sin number 1: running a program a full hour early.
Followed closely by impardonable sin number 2. The program ran until (approximately) 10:30. So even if the geniuses had started running the program at the originally scheduled time, the PVR would have dutifully stopped recording after one hour, leaving the last half-hour unrecorded.
I was able to channel my rage into a pithy e-mail to the people at The Movie Network. The answer (if any) that I receive will determine the depth of my indignation over the coming days. It's likely to take me a couple of weeks, though, to have any trust in the program guide.
I mean, geez Louise, it's television, people! Come on! It's not like you're running the space program or anything. Just do what you say you're going to do and I'll be able to put down this baseball bat I'm brandishing wildly right now...
Let me say right now that I think the PVR (that's Personal Video Recorder for those of you who came late) is one of the great inventions of the past few years. I use mine to record all my favorite programs whenever they come on. Because my schedule can be unpredictable, I count on my PVR, and the digital program guide it runs from, to be accurate so that when I get home all my programs will be there, ready for me to watch at my leisure. The best part of the PVR/program guide integration is that if, for some crazy reason, a show winds up being pre-empted or shown on another night, the PVR will catch the change, as long as the program guide is updated in time.
This evening I was positively giddy about being home to watch the second-season premiere of "Sleeper Cell" on The Movie Network. "Starts December 10 at 10 pm", I read. Being just a little, er, retentive, I checked my digital cable program guide: there it was, 10 pm. Sooooo, at a couple of minutes before 10 I curled up in my comfy leather recliner and switched over to channel 537, all ready to see what kind of trouble Oded Fehr and Michael Ealy and the boys can get into this year...
and what did I discover? To use the vernacular of the TV biz, I joined regular programming already in progress! The #&^%$ show started at 9! Impardonable sin number 1: running a program a full hour early.
Followed closely by impardonable sin number 2. The program ran until (approximately) 10:30. So even if the geniuses had started running the program at the originally scheduled time, the PVR would have dutifully stopped recording after one hour, leaving the last half-hour unrecorded.
I was able to channel my rage into a pithy e-mail to the people at The Movie Network. The answer (if any) that I receive will determine the depth of my indignation over the coming days. It's likely to take me a couple of weeks, though, to have any trust in the program guide.
I mean, geez Louise, it's television, people! Come on! It's not like you're running the space program or anything. Just do what you say you're going to do and I'll be able to put down this baseball bat I'm brandishing wildly right now...
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Bad Saturday. Better Sunday: A Really Long Post
I should get thirty lashes with a wet noodle for neglecting my blog for so long.
Now you know why I never bothered getting a Tamagotchi.
Now you know why not even a cactus would ever survive in my home or in my office.
Now you know why I don’t have children or pets.
Anyhoo, here’s what’s been going on lately.
First off, I spent a good chunk of yesterday (Saturday) at a bar up near Yonge/Eglinton to watch the
Fueled by beer, bad chicken wings and better quesadillas (the nachos were somewhere in between), we all watched our U of S Huskies blow home-field advantage and go down to defeat 13-8 at the hands of the Laval Rouge et Or. You would have thought the field conditions - minus-20-something, minus-30 with the wind chill - would have helped the Huskies, but I guess no one plays all that well when they've lost sensation in all their extremities.
My friend
So the day wasn’t a complete loss.
As for today, I spent a chunk of it, as is my wont, at the local Starbucks, reading the paper, people-watching and listening to my iPod.
The “shuffle” function has created a new phenomenon: the instant mix tape. Those of us that came of age (technologically, at least) in the 70s and 80s got into the habit of putting together mix tapes (or mix CDs or, more recently, mp3 playlists). I’ve used them as a good barometer of my mental and emotional state: listening to an old mix tape tells me a lot about where my head was at when I made the tape.
Now, anyone can use their iPod to put together what seems to be a completely random playlist. Every once in a while, though, synchronicity rears its head and what started out as random seems to take on a deeper significance. Today was one of those days. I think this may have been my best iPod day to date. Check out this playlist:
“Stella By Starlight”, Chet Baker – I always think of this tune as a medium ballad, but Baker plays it a little more up-tempo. It almost comes across as perky!
“Lover Lay Down”, Dave Matthews Band – This is a great track by my oldest nephew’s favourite band. These guys do everything well; great lyrics, great feel, great playing, great vocals.
“
“Canary in a Coal Mine”, The Police – A fun little tune that shows why everyone loves, or loved, The Police. Snappy execution, great guitar work, fun lyrics, even (gasp!) danceable, at least by New Wave standards.
“It’s Over”, Level 42 – In retrospect it’s sappy, but there was a time when this was one of my favourite ballads. The remixed version of this tune on the greatest-hits compilation album has a freakin’ steel guitar (!) on it, but this was the original version.
“Presto in G Minor #1 After Bach”, Béla Fleck – Who knew that a banjo player could work out on a classical piece, let alone do it as a duo with marimba? This whole album is a revelation.
“Money Talks”, Living Colour – I love these guys. They’re just intellectual enough, just wacky enough, just in-your-face enough to tickle my fancy. Corey Glover has one of the great rock voices of all time.
“Floating Life”, Level 42 – A fun early track from the founders of the Britfunk sound. I particularly love the doubled bass line in the last half of the guitar solo. Find yourself a good stereo system – a subwoofer is a must – crank it up and feel the sound of the apocalypse!
“What Am I Here For?”, Lambert, Hendricks & Ross – Their first album was entitled The Hottest New Group in Jazz. Hyperbole perhaps, but Dave, Jon and Annie had great jazz chops and sensitivity, and they sang their collective a$$ off.
“Don’t Change Horses (In The Middle of a Stream)”,
“Changing the Guard”, Mark King – This tune starts out sounding harmonically like an updated version of “Sweet Home Alabama”, but within a few seconds you know that this ain't no Lynyrd Skynyrd. It’s a simple tune, but quickly turns to an almost-anthemic feel, and Mark shows that he’s really a very good singer. His bass chops are conspicuously downplayed on this album, but that only serves to play up the quality of his songs and his singing.
“Nimrod”, Dominic Miller – From Elgar’s Enigma Variations. The recent trend of pop artists re-discovering and re-interpreting legit music doesn’t always work, but Dominic gets it right by not messing with things too much.
“My Old Flame”, Charlie Parker – It would just be wrong for a jazz lover not to have at least some Bird on his/her iPod, but I have to admit that this tune makes me smile for a different reason. Every time I hear it I’m reminded of the version recorded by Spike Jones and his City Slickers.
“Green Earrings”, Steely Dan – I came to Steely Dan fairly late in life; I didn’t really start listening to the band in earnest until Gaucho, the last album before their lengthy hiatus. Over the years, though, I’ve come to appreciate the depth and breadth of their work. This is a simple song structurally, but there’s just so much going on inside of it that it easily bears repeated listening.
“Long Life”, Lyle Mays – This track is from Lyle’s solo recording, which has been under-reviewed and generally underappreciated. Lyle is really a brilliant player, and it’s a bit of a shame that he’s spent so long in the shadow of his long-time musical partner Pat Metheny. He deserves far more recognition as a player and composer than he gets.
“All the Tea in
“
“John And Mary”, Jaco Pastorius – It’s well-known now, although not so well-known at the time, that although Jaco was undeniably a genius and a seminal figure in modern jazz music, he was also wildly bipolar. His daughter Mary has also been diagnosed with the same illness. There’s no dispute, though, that Jaco adored his kids. In this track you can hear him playing with them.
“Jack Cannon”, Alain Caron – Over the years I’ve met and spoken with Alain Caron a few times, first in an interview setting, then (slightly) more informally. He’s a terrific guy as well as being a monster bassist. I’ve always thought of this tune as the best TV theme song ever, although to my knowledge it’s never been used.
“80/81”, Pat Metheny – A few years ago, I started playing saxophone again after a break of nearly two years. My re-introduction to the horn consisted of putting this album on and trying to play along as best I could. I don’t know why I picked this album, but it nearly made me hang up the horn for good! In retrospect there are probably fifty other albums in my collection that would have been a better choice to try and get my chops back up to snuff, but listening to Dewey Redman, Pat Metheny and (yes, my hero) Mike Brecker for an afternoon helped remind me of how much I have yet to learn.
“Cousin Mary”, John Coltrane – One of the must-haves in any saxophonists’ collection is Giant Steps. For a 1959 album, everything sounds remarkably fresh.
“Maiden Voyage”, Herbie Hancock – Everyone, and I mean everyone, has played this tune at one time or another. The original recording from 1965 still rules.
“Willie and the Hand Jive”, Eric Clapton – I’ve never been a great fan of Clapton’s singing, but he’s always been a great guitarist, and this tune is just plain fun.
“Superboy”, The Bears – The Bears were one of Adrian Belew’s pet projects right after the demise of the 1980s Fripp/Belew/Bruford/Levin iteration of King Crimson. I always felt that this band gave Ade more of an opportunity to show his playful side. Although the Crims sometimes sound like full-on anarchy at high volume, the fact is that their tunes are tightly structured and the “improv” is very much buttoned down. In any event, the Twang Bar King has a blast on this album, and he takes what would otherwise be a really good bar band to a whole different level.
“Edith and the Kingpin”, Joni Mitchell – Wow. Joni’s 1979 Shadows & Light tour showcased some of the most influential musicians of the time. Joni on vocals and guitar, along with nearly all my faves: Pat Metheny on guitar, Lyle Mays on keys, Jaco Pastorius on bass, Don Alias on drums and percussion, Mike Brecker on saxophone, and The Persuasions just to round things out a bit vocally. I only wish I’d been able to see this band live. I bought the DVD of this show a couple of years ago, but made the mistake of loaning it to a friend who promptly dropped off the face of the earth. Tanya, if you’re out there, I forgive you, but gimme back my DVD, dammit!
“Back in Black”, Living Colour: A great way to end a nearly perfect day of music listening. Yeah, I know, it may be sacrilege to dig a cover of such a classic tune, but the Living Colour version is every bit as much fun as the AC/DC original. In fact, I kind of enjoy the tongue-in-cheekiness of a black (sorry, African-American) band a) doing one of the great metal tunes of all time; and b) paying respect to it while simultaneously freshening it up.
***
Whew! This is one long post, but hopefully we’ve all learned an important lesson: don’t go two months between posts.
PS: if you're interested in any of these tunes, post a comment to this post and I'll try to hook you up.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
A couple of Steven Wright-esque comments/observations
Last night I dreamt that I wrote my first novel. It was really difficult; I was writing it on a Möbius strip and couldn't get past the first page...
Yesterday I was at Starbucks with my friend Milan and we heard the beeping of one of the alarm clock thingies they always put on their coffee pots. I keep wondering why coffee would need an alarm clock; shouldn't it be able to stay awake on its own?
Yesterday I was at Starbucks with my friend Milan and we heard the beeping of one of the alarm clock thingies they always put on their coffee pots. I keep wondering why coffee would need an alarm clock; shouldn't it be able to stay awake on its own?
Monday, September 25, 2006
What happens when you cancel a cancellation?
I'm returning to Toronto today after a few days in Vancouver. You will recall that there were some, er, events surrounding the outbound leg of this trip; see my previous entry for that.
My few days in Vancouver were unremarkable overall. I wound up doing more work and, consequently, less play than I would have liked, but I was able to take my rented Mustang (!!) out for a couple of nice runs. I got the car back to the nice rental people, got into the departure area of the terminal at YVR, only to discover that my flight was - you guessed it - delayed by an hour. For the second time in a row, it was due to "maintenance issues" with the aircraft.
Now, I'm all for not flying in messed-up airframes. When the agent at the check-in counter told me it was a "flight control" issue, the image of the Weasleys' flying car from the Harry Potter books zoomed through my head. Not the sort of thing I want to be dealing with with a few hundred of my closest friends in an Airbus A340, no sirree. I'll wait for the plane that isn't possessed by gremlins, thank you very much.
I went into the Maple Leaf lounge, where the announcement was made shortly thereafter that my flight was being cancelled altogether. There are plenty of other flights from Vancouver to Toronto, we'll get you onto one of them, I was told. So I left my boarding pass at the desk and went back to drafting my blog about delayed flights.
Less than a half-hour later, I was paged to return to the desk, where my original boarding pass was given back to me. "It's fixed now" was the simple, albeit not completely satisfying answer.
That's when I looked around for Q/Mr. Mxyzptlk/Stephen Hawking/Carl Sagan; someone - anyone - who could explain the bizarro universe into which I had obviously just been sucked. How often does something get cancelled, and then un-cancelled? That's gotta leave a mark on the fabric of the space-time continuum...
When I asked what the exact nature of the original problem was, the agent wasn't able to tell me. So, in about an hour, I'll step onto an airplane with a (hopefully) repaired flight-control issue. If you read something in the newspaper about an airplane that's stuck flying in circles - in reverse - somewhere over the Prairies, that will be me. I just hope we don't run into any Whomping Willows.
My few days in Vancouver were unremarkable overall. I wound up doing more work and, consequently, less play than I would have liked, but I was able to take my rented Mustang (!!) out for a couple of nice runs. I got the car back to the nice rental people, got into the departure area of the terminal at YVR, only to discover that my flight was - you guessed it - delayed by an hour. For the second time in a row, it was due to "maintenance issues" with the aircraft.
Now, I'm all for not flying in messed-up airframes. When the agent at the check-in counter told me it was a "flight control" issue, the image of the Weasleys' flying car from the Harry Potter books zoomed through my head. Not the sort of thing I want to be dealing with with a few hundred of my closest friends in an Airbus A340, no sirree. I'll wait for the plane that isn't possessed by gremlins, thank you very much.
I went into the Maple Leaf lounge, where the announcement was made shortly thereafter that my flight was being cancelled altogether. There are plenty of other flights from Vancouver to Toronto, we'll get you onto one of them, I was told. So I left my boarding pass at the desk and went back to drafting my blog about delayed flights.
Less than a half-hour later, I was paged to return to the desk, where my original boarding pass was given back to me. "It's fixed now" was the simple, albeit not completely satisfying answer.
That's when I looked around for Q/Mr. Mxyzptlk/Stephen Hawking/Carl Sagan; someone - anyone - who could explain the bizarro universe into which I had obviously just been sucked. How often does something get cancelled, and then un-cancelled? That's gotta leave a mark on the fabric of the space-time continuum...
When I asked what the exact nature of the original problem was, the agent wasn't able to tell me. So, in about an hour, I'll step onto an airplane with a (hopefully) repaired flight-control issue. If you read something in the newspaper about an airplane that's stuck flying in circles - in reverse - somewhere over the Prairies, that will be me. I just hope we don't run into any Whomping Willows.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Traveling
I'm on a business trip for a few days. A few years back, my job called for me to travel a great deal more than I do now. There are times when I miss the experience, but yesterday wasn't one of them.
I know that air travel is a more complicated affair than it used to be, at least from a security point of view. And to be fair (and when am I ever unfair?), going through security was probably the least painful thing I did yesterday. But when one is doing everything right, why is it that everything else goes wrong?
I generally like to get to the airport at least half an hour before the airline wants me there. I like having the extra time to go up to the lounge, have a coffee, read the newspaper or get a magazine before having to be herded onto the aircraft. Yesterday there was a lot of traffic coming from downtown, so I didn't get to the airport until just over an hour before departure. No problem, I thought to myself, since I had already printed my boarding pass; since my Aeroplan status allows me to use the executive counter, I should be able to breeze right on in.
I arrived at that section of the airport to find that the express check-in is so popular it has a line-up. Just dropping off one's bags - the part that should arguably take the least amount of time - has become the single most time-consuming part of the ritual. The queue was at least an hour long. Thinking quickly, I went over to the executive checkin queue, which was considerably shorter. Re-doing what I had already done, i.e. checking in, getting a seat assigned (or re-assigned in my case) and checking my suitcase, actually took less time than it would have just to check my bag.
As for the whole issue of checked luggage: I have a carry-on suitcase that I bought a few years ago, when I was traveling a lot. Its dimensions are precisely those set by all the major airlines for carry-on baggage. Why didn't I just carry it on, you may ask? Well, dear reader, I was carrying contact lens solution and deodorant and shampoo, which are verboten on carry-on these days. I have seen so-called dry shampoo, which is essentially cornstarch that you rub into your hair and then comb out. I also know that you can use talcum powder as an effective anti-perspirant/deodorant. And you know, for a few minutes there I was actually tempted to replace my liquid-and-gel toiletries with fine-textured white powders. In the end, I decided not to give the security guards any more excitement than they can stand already, and just checked my suitcase. Never let it be said that I'm inconsiderate.
Then I finally got to the departure lounge, mildly annoyed because now it was only about fifteen minutes to scheduled departure time. When, oh when will I learn that scheduled departure times now mean nothing to Air Canada? The 6 pm departure was blithely changed to 6:30, then to 7, then to 7:15. We were herded onto the plane, whereupon the very polite captain announced that the technicians had nearly finished replacing the tires on the nose wheel, but that the luggage crew had had to take their meal break and the luggage wasn't quite all loaded yet, and oh yes, there were a number of passengers who had checked luggage but who hadn't boarded the plane, and we all know what a bother that can be. So we sat around until 8. Mercifully the flight took less time than anticipated - lack of headwind, I'm guessing - so we got into Vancouver at a decent (ish) hour.
Ah, the excitement of cross-country travel.
I know that air travel is a more complicated affair than it used to be, at least from a security point of view. And to be fair (and when am I ever unfair?), going through security was probably the least painful thing I did yesterday. But when one is doing everything right, why is it that everything else goes wrong?
I generally like to get to the airport at least half an hour before the airline wants me there. I like having the extra time to go up to the lounge, have a coffee, read the newspaper or get a magazine before having to be herded onto the aircraft. Yesterday there was a lot of traffic coming from downtown, so I didn't get to the airport until just over an hour before departure. No problem, I thought to myself, since I had already printed my boarding pass; since my Aeroplan status allows me to use the executive counter, I should be able to breeze right on in.
I arrived at that section of the airport to find that the express check-in is so popular it has a line-up. Just dropping off one's bags - the part that should arguably take the least amount of time - has become the single most time-consuming part of the ritual. The queue was at least an hour long. Thinking quickly, I went over to the executive checkin queue, which was considerably shorter. Re-doing what I had already done, i.e. checking in, getting a seat assigned (or re-assigned in my case) and checking my suitcase, actually took less time than it would have just to check my bag.
As for the whole issue of checked luggage: I have a carry-on suitcase that I bought a few years ago, when I was traveling a lot. Its dimensions are precisely those set by all the major airlines for carry-on baggage. Why didn't I just carry it on, you may ask? Well, dear reader, I was carrying contact lens solution and deodorant and shampoo, which are verboten on carry-on these days. I have seen so-called dry shampoo, which is essentially cornstarch that you rub into your hair and then comb out. I also know that you can use talcum powder as an effective anti-perspirant/deodorant. And you know, for a few minutes there I was actually tempted to replace my liquid-and-gel toiletries with fine-textured white powders. In the end, I decided not to give the security guards any more excitement than they can stand already, and just checked my suitcase. Never let it be said that I'm inconsiderate.
Then I finally got to the departure lounge, mildly annoyed because now it was only about fifteen minutes to scheduled departure time. When, oh when will I learn that scheduled departure times now mean nothing to Air Canada? The 6 pm departure was blithely changed to 6:30, then to 7, then to 7:15. We were herded onto the plane, whereupon the very polite captain announced that the technicians had nearly finished replacing the tires on the nose wheel, but that the luggage crew had had to take their meal break and the luggage wasn't quite all loaded yet, and oh yes, there were a number of passengers who had checked luggage but who hadn't boarded the plane, and we all know what a bother that can be. So we sat around until 8. Mercifully the flight took less time than anticipated - lack of headwind, I'm guessing - so we got into Vancouver at a decent (ish) hour.
Ah, the excitement of cross-country travel.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
What I did over the summer holidays
Sheesh, it's been a while since my last rant - nearly two months. Let's see, what's happened since July?
Hmmm... well, there was Zinédine Zidane and his meltdown at the World Cup. I mean, what are you supposed to say about a player whose game is so good that even his hacks look like they should be in a textbook somewhere? I'm obviously not condoning violence - heck, I don't even like hockey - but you have to have at least some (grudging) admiration for a guy who can make a vicious head-butt look like a work of art. Not even Wayne Gretzky could do that. I'm just glad that I wasn't at the receiving end; getting a whack like that in the ol' xyphoid (come on, don't be lazy, Google it!) would be supremely painful, and probably left quite a bruise on Materazzi.
And then there was that other meltdown: Floyd Landis. His wasn't so much a meltdown as a complete disintegration, followed by a miraculous, er, re-integration, followed by a completely humiliating letdown, with full media coverage of all aspects. I suppose the jury is ostensibly still out on whether Landis Did Something Naughty, or had a little something not-quite-kosher administered to him without his knowledge, but there are many more questions than there are answers and Floyd doesn't seem to be leading from the front. I'd like to think that if I knew I was completely blameless in this affair I'd be adopting the more aggressive Lance Armstrong "if you've got incontrovertible proof, let's see it" approach. Instead Floyd has faded from view. As much as I hate to use a lazy journalist's bromide, I guess time will tell.
I spent a few days in New York City at the beginning of July. As I've done before, I spent much of my time just wandering around the city, although on this trip the heat and humidity were particularly awful. I saw some great jazz, including the Mingus Dynasty and the Heath Brothers (Jimmy and Tootie), bought a bunch of hard-to-find CDs, and saw some things I didn't expect to see, like this sign:
I guess they mean car horns, but as a saxophone player I felt a bit persecuted for a moment there. And so close to Lincoln Centre and the Juilliard school too!
I also went to a Yankees game. My ticket cost an arm and a leg - maybe two arms and a leg - and baseball isn't my favourite sport in the world either (more on that in a few lines), but hey, going to Yankee Stadium on a steamy Friday night in July strikes me as the sort of rite of passage that a guy should undergo. It was great fun, and I had a great seat. See?
For the detail-oriented, the Yankees played the Chicago White Sox. That's Randy Johnson on the mound for the Yankees. And "we" - I discovered pretty early on that when you're sitting that close to home plate you'd better be cheering for the home team! - won 6-5.
So that was my July. What about August? I guess one bit of big news is that Canada qualified for next year's Rugby World Cup in France. One more reason to start planning next year's vacation on the continent...
And as I write this, Canada is playing at the Women's Rugby World Cup in Edmonton. The girls got shellacked in their first match, losing 66-7 to the New Zealand Black Ferns, but there's no shame in that. Scoring any points at all against the Black Ferns is quite an exploit. Hopefully the Canadians will do well in the tournament this time around.
That's all I can think of, curmudgeonly or otherwise, on a rainy Saturday. I'm sure I'll have more to rant about soon.
Hmmm... well, there was Zinédine Zidane and his meltdown at the World Cup. I mean, what are you supposed to say about a player whose game is so good that even his hacks look like they should be in a textbook somewhere? I'm obviously not condoning violence - heck, I don't even like hockey - but you have to have at least some (grudging) admiration for a guy who can make a vicious head-butt look like a work of art. Not even Wayne Gretzky could do that. I'm just glad that I wasn't at the receiving end; getting a whack like that in the ol' xyphoid (come on, don't be lazy, Google it!) would be supremely painful, and probably left quite a bruise on Materazzi.
And then there was that other meltdown: Floyd Landis. His wasn't so much a meltdown as a complete disintegration, followed by a miraculous, er, re-integration, followed by a completely humiliating letdown, with full media coverage of all aspects. I suppose the jury is ostensibly still out on whether Landis Did Something Naughty, or had a little something not-quite-kosher administered to him without his knowledge, but there are many more questions than there are answers and Floyd doesn't seem to be leading from the front. I'd like to think that if I knew I was completely blameless in this affair I'd be adopting the more aggressive Lance Armstrong "if you've got incontrovertible proof, let's see it" approach. Instead Floyd has faded from view. As much as I hate to use a lazy journalist's bromide, I guess time will tell.
I spent a few days in New York City at the beginning of July. As I've done before, I spent much of my time just wandering around the city, although on this trip the heat and humidity were particularly awful. I saw some great jazz, including the Mingus Dynasty and the Heath Brothers (Jimmy and Tootie), bought a bunch of hard-to-find CDs, and saw some things I didn't expect to see, like this sign:
I guess they mean car horns, but as a saxophone player I felt a bit persecuted for a moment there. And so close to Lincoln Centre and the Juilliard school too!I also went to a Yankees game. My ticket cost an arm and a leg - maybe two arms and a leg - and baseball isn't my favourite sport in the world either (more on that in a few lines), but hey, going to Yankee Stadium on a steamy Friday night in July strikes me as the sort of rite of passage that a guy should undergo. It was great fun, and I had a great seat. See?
For the detail-oriented, the Yankees played the Chicago White Sox. That's Randy Johnson on the mound for the Yankees. And "we" - I discovered pretty early on that when you're sitting that close to home plate you'd better be cheering for the home team! - won 6-5.
So that was my July. What about August? I guess one bit of big news is that Canada qualified for next year's Rugby World Cup in France. One more reason to start planning next year's vacation on the continent...
And as I write this, Canada is playing at the Women's Rugby World Cup in Edmonton. The girls got shellacked in their first match, losing 66-7 to the New Zealand Black Ferns, but there's no shame in that. Scoring any points at all against the Black Ferns is quite an exploit. Hopefully the Canadians will do well in the tournament this time around.
That's all I can think of, curmudgeonly or otherwise, on a rainy Saturday. I'm sure I'll have more to rant about soon.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Maybe not...
When I started this blog, I decided to use the snappy line above ("People actually read this crap?") as the title. As it turns out, people don't actually read this crap.
If I were doing this for ego-stroking purposes it would bother me. I'd be lying if I said I was content with the voice-in-the-wildnerness-ness, but I started this as much as a means to vent as anything else. So I shall continue.
There was a jazz festival here in Toronto over the past ten days or so. I actually made it to a couple of shows, although there were a couple I would have liked to have seen that I ended up missing for one reason or another. I just hope that I won't "pull a Jaco" again.
Some context: back in the early 80s I was in Europe for the summer, and kept missing Jaco Pastorius's Word of Mouth tour. He died just a couple of years later. I would have loved to have seen him and his band.
Last spring I got lucky, if you can call it that. By pure happenstance I saw Michael Brecker's last performance before he stopped playing. When I heard he was sick - Myelodysplastic syndrome if I'm spelling it right at this late hour - I was very upset, almost as if Mike were a close friend or a member of the family. I'm very glad to see that he has made some steps back toward recovery; I read the other day that he played one tune at a Herbie Hancock show.
Other happenings in my so-called life: the World Cup is nearly over, and the 2006 Tour de France has begun. The Rugby World Cup isn't until next fall, so I can't say I've hit the trifecta, but having cycling and soccer going on at the same time is pretty cool. And there's so much coverage that I can't watch it all. I've taken to recording the shows on my PVR and watching them - at least in part - on fast-forward. It's sort of like being like Adam Sandler in "Click", without the several million bucks Sandler is getting for playing the role, of course...
If I were doing this for ego-stroking purposes it would bother me. I'd be lying if I said I was content with the voice-in-the-wildnerness-ness, but I started this as much as a means to vent as anything else. So I shall continue.
There was a jazz festival here in Toronto over the past ten days or so. I actually made it to a couple of shows, although there were a couple I would have liked to have seen that I ended up missing for one reason or another. I just hope that I won't "pull a Jaco" again.
Some context: back in the early 80s I was in Europe for the summer, and kept missing Jaco Pastorius's Word of Mouth tour. He died just a couple of years later. I would have loved to have seen him and his band.
Last spring I got lucky, if you can call it that. By pure happenstance I saw Michael Brecker's last performance before he stopped playing. When I heard he was sick - Myelodysplastic syndrome if I'm spelling it right at this late hour - I was very upset, almost as if Mike were a close friend or a member of the family. I'm very glad to see that he has made some steps back toward recovery; I read the other day that he played one tune at a Herbie Hancock show.
Other happenings in my so-called life: the World Cup is nearly over, and the 2006 Tour de France has begun. The Rugby World Cup isn't until next fall, so I can't say I've hit the trifecta, but having cycling and soccer going on at the same time is pretty cool. And there's so much coverage that I can't watch it all. I've taken to recording the shows on my PVR and watching them - at least in part - on fast-forward. It's sort of like being like Adam Sandler in "Click", without the several million bucks Sandler is getting for playing the role, of course...
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Woof! a photo blog
Tripe cream cones! Get 'em here! Get your tripe cream cones right here!
No, that's not a typo;I checked. These people are actually giving away samples of processed tripe. Ewww. That's the bad news. The good news that this stuff is made for dogs. Think about it: what could possibly be more appetizing to a dog than beef innards? Okay, on second thought, maybe you don't have to think about it if you don't want to.
Where did I see this brilliant example of entrepreneurship? Why, at Woofstock. A healthy chunk of Toronto's Front Street was closed yesterday and today for this festival/fair/trade show/carnival of nuttiness. It was actually a lot of fun - if you like dogs, that is.
Of course there were cool dogs:
And funny dogs:
And others whose owners clearly have way too much time on their hands:
Yup, Poochie is wearing an Oilers jersey, complete with helmet.
A bit of a World Cup theme...
Okay, now this is just cruel. Even a dog knows that hockey season is over - especially for the Leafs!Oh, and one good-looking cockatoo, er, too:
The prize winner has to be this one. I mean, I'd be hiding my face too if I had actually gone so far as to a) own a toy poodle; and b) dye said toy poodle fuchsia. Or maybe it's just a marginally-less-cringe-inducing hot pink. This poor mutt is going to need psychotherapy for the rest of his/her life:
There are plenty more pics where these came from, but I think I'll just hold onto them and chuckle at 'em at my leisure... aw heck, here are a couple more:
Why do I have this sudden urge to put on a tweed jacket?
"Where's Pumbaa?"
"Hello, water bottle. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."[-or, if you prefer:]
"Oh yeah? Well, maybe you're going to last two hundred years in a landfill, but I'll still be collecting royalties from Frasier reruns! So there!"
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Another Sunday, some more random thoughts
A follow-up to a previous entry: This week I finally got the swishy new flash diffuser for my camera - you remember, the one that would instantly give every photo I took that perfect just-kissed-by-God lighting?
Well, I've been working out with it for the past couple of days. It doesn't help with composition or choice of subject, and it sure as hell doesn't make people better-looking, but hey, if you're gonna be ugly, you might as well be ugly and well-lit. Of course, the event I needed this thingamajig for was two weeks ago, but next time someone asks me to shoot people (come on, you know what I mean...) I'll be ready for anything.
Speaking of, er, shooting people, the recent news about a group of they-might-just-be-terrorists being arrested in the Greater Toronto Area is causing some stir. I've seen just enough detail to realize that I can't arrive at any sort of conclusion as to whether these guys are the real deal or not. There is discussion about the massive amount of ammonium nitrate fertilizer they had on hand (if you're not a farmer, that is). There was a cell phone in a box with wires coming out of it. At their first court appearance, many of their (female) family members arrived in burqas. Just those few elements are enough to keep the pundits yapping for days.
Next question: presuming that they were indeed planning to Blow Something Up, what where they lookin' at? The Toronto Star says that the police were quick to announce that public transit, i.e. the TTC, was not, definitely not, repeat, not a target, no really, we're not kidding, no sir, not a target at all. That's enough to convince me that the TTC was target number one. But what else? The CN Tower? Naah; although it's undeniably a Toronto landmark - how else are you going to figure out which direction is south in this town? - its destruction probably wouldn't generate much in the way of terror. The Toronto Stock Exchange? Not likely. The entire financial district, i.e. King & Bay? Possible. CSIS's Toronto bureau? I've heard that possibility mooted in more than one forum. That's the scariest one yet; not that I have any concerns about Canada's intelligence gathering, it's just that the CSIS offices are uncomfortably close to mine. Call me selfish.
To segue neatly into other international life-and-death struggles: I went to a rugby match yesterday. Scotland A vs. the England Saxons; that is to say, categorically not the international Test teams that we'll see at the World Cup, but pretty darn good. It was a great day for rugby, meaning that it was a bit cool and rain pelted down all afternoon. Fans and players alike were soaked, although I'd venture to say the players had a little more fun, since they could at least run around; those of us in the stands were a miserable bunch of drowned rats by the end. But it was a great game: Scotland looked very strong, particularly on defence. England did fine but looked considerably less disciplined - let's face it, when was the last time the Scots looked more disciplined than the English? There were a few brilliant offensive and defensive plays, and the real highlight of the match was the last few minutes, when the Scots held the line for several minutes against the English. Pretty stirring stuff.
Because of the crappy weather conditions, I only took my camera out of the bag a couple of times to get some action shots:
For the non-rugby-literate out there: if you're looking for the ball, England's #5 has it (please don't ask me his name; after shelling out 15 clams for parking (!!) I didn't feel like blowing another five bucks on a program) and he's about to have his lungs handed to him by a couple of hard-tackling Scots. He has his back to the opposing goal line, which I know doesn't seem very bright, but believe me, it's sound rugby technique. He's just taken the ball in something called a line-out, which actually involves people standing in two lines waiting to have the ball thrown back into play. Sounds orderly, doesn't it? Almost Canadian. Everyone in the photo is looking very intense, particularly those big second-row forwards with the no-cauliflower-ears-for-me-thank-you helmets on. Thanks, guys, for giving my pic that little extra something.
And finally, since I just need to get this off my chest: I saw one of the new Mercedes R-series vehicles today. I call it a vehicle 'cause it doesn't really look like a car, nor a truck, nor an SUV, nor a minivan. In fact, the first thought that popped into my mind when I took a good long three-quarter look at this thing was that it looks liked a kinda swoopy hearse. Go ahead, take a look; am I wrong?
Well, I've been working out with it for the past couple of days. It doesn't help with composition or choice of subject, and it sure as hell doesn't make people better-looking, but hey, if you're gonna be ugly, you might as well be ugly and well-lit. Of course, the event I needed this thingamajig for was two weeks ago, but next time someone asks me to shoot people (come on, you know what I mean...) I'll be ready for anything.
Speaking of, er, shooting people, the recent news about a group of they-might-just-be-terrorists being arrested in the Greater Toronto Area is causing some stir. I've seen just enough detail to realize that I can't arrive at any sort of conclusion as to whether these guys are the real deal or not. There is discussion about the massive amount of ammonium nitrate fertilizer they had on hand (if you're not a farmer, that is). There was a cell phone in a box with wires coming out of it. At their first court appearance, many of their (female) family members arrived in burqas. Just those few elements are enough to keep the pundits yapping for days.
Next question: presuming that they were indeed planning to Blow Something Up, what where they lookin' at? The Toronto Star says that the police were quick to announce that public transit, i.e. the TTC, was not, definitely not, repeat, not a target, no really, we're not kidding, no sir, not a target at all. That's enough to convince me that the TTC was target number one. But what else? The CN Tower? Naah; although it's undeniably a Toronto landmark - how else are you going to figure out which direction is south in this town? - its destruction probably wouldn't generate much in the way of terror. The Toronto Stock Exchange? Not likely. The entire financial district, i.e. King & Bay? Possible. CSIS's Toronto bureau? I've heard that possibility mooted in more than one forum. That's the scariest one yet; not that I have any concerns about Canada's intelligence gathering, it's just that the CSIS offices are uncomfortably close to mine. Call me selfish.
To segue neatly into other international life-and-death struggles: I went to a rugby match yesterday. Scotland A vs. the England Saxons; that is to say, categorically not the international Test teams that we'll see at the World Cup, but pretty darn good. It was a great day for rugby, meaning that it was a bit cool and rain pelted down all afternoon. Fans and players alike were soaked, although I'd venture to say the players had a little more fun, since they could at least run around; those of us in the stands were a miserable bunch of drowned rats by the end. But it was a great game: Scotland looked very strong, particularly on defence. England did fine but looked considerably less disciplined - let's face it, when was the last time the Scots looked more disciplined than the English? There were a few brilliant offensive and defensive plays, and the real highlight of the match was the last few minutes, when the Scots held the line for several minutes against the English. Pretty stirring stuff.
Because of the crappy weather conditions, I only took my camera out of the bag a couple of times to get some action shots:
For the non-rugby-literate out there: if you're looking for the ball, England's #5 has it (please don't ask me his name; after shelling out 15 clams for parking (!!) I didn't feel like blowing another five bucks on a program) and he's about to have his lungs handed to him by a couple of hard-tackling Scots. He has his back to the opposing goal line, which I know doesn't seem very bright, but believe me, it's sound rugby technique. He's just taken the ball in something called a line-out, which actually involves people standing in two lines waiting to have the ball thrown back into play. Sounds orderly, doesn't it? Almost Canadian. Everyone in the photo is looking very intense, particularly those big second-row forwards with the no-cauliflower-ears-for-me-thank-you helmets on. Thanks, guys, for giving my pic that little extra something.
And finally, since I just need to get this off my chest: I saw one of the new Mercedes R-series vehicles today. I call it a vehicle 'cause it doesn't really look like a car, nor a truck, nor an SUV, nor a minivan. In fact, the first thought that popped into my mind when I took a good long three-quarter look at this thing was that it looks liked a kinda swoopy hearse. Go ahead, take a look; am I wrong?
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
New word! New word!
I was visiting homestarrunner.com this morning (if you haven't been there, surf there now and visit for a while; I'll just wait here. .. dum de dum dum.. la la la... hmm hmmm HMMMMM hmm hmm hmmmmm... dah doo ba-doo-WAAH! It must have been moonglow, way up in the blue... Oh! you're back... heh heh, wasn't expecting you back quite so soon)
There, wasn't that fun?
Anyhoo, I was watching one of the Teen Girl Squad cartoons, and discovered "woot", as spoken by the cartoon versions of Henry Rollins, Abraham Lincoln and George Washington (holding an axe). Being the keen student of etymology - and yes, also being the geek - that I am, I quickly Googled the term and promptly found four widely-varying theories as to the origin and meaning of the term. In the end, everyone seems to agree that it's a bit of a synonym for "hey cool!" or "wow" or some generic exclamation of pleased surprise (or should that be surprised pleasure?). So woot it is from now on, as in "Woot! I've just learned another bit of geek-speak!"
There, wasn't that fun?
Anyhoo, I was watching one of the Teen Girl Squad cartoons, and discovered "woot", as spoken by the cartoon versions of Henry Rollins, Abraham Lincoln and George Washington (holding an axe). Being the keen student of etymology - and yes, also being the geek - that I am, I quickly Googled the term and promptly found four widely-varying theories as to the origin and meaning of the term. In the end, everyone seems to agree that it's a bit of a synonym for "hey cool!" or "wow" or some generic exclamation of pleased surprise (or should that be surprised pleasure?). So woot it is from now on, as in "Woot! I've just learned another bit of geek-speak!"
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Worst. Newscast. EVER.
Wow.
As a former TV journo I've watched a lot of newscasts over the years. I've seen some great shows. I've seen very good shows, and employees who did the best they could with the limited resources available to them. I've watched newscasts from independent stations and from network stations. I've watched shows done by newsrooms of sixty people and others done by newsrooms of ten. I've reported, produced, hosted, directed, edited, even done studio camera and audio. I like to think I know a tiny bit about the TV news biz.
Last night I recorded Canoe Live, the, um, "news" program that's being foisted on viewers by Toronto's Sun TV. Today I pinned myself into my recliner and forced myself, Clockwork Orange-style, to sit through the whole wretched thing.
How much did I hate this craptacular waste of an hour? Let me count the ways:
1. A television news show done out of a newspaper's newsroom. Whatever happened to editorial independence?
2. Who does a newscast these days without a teleprompter? Let's see now: cheap college stations; major stations who suffer a breakdown in the middle of a newscast (at least until the next break, when hopefully a technician or engineer can get the thing working again); and cheap-ass TV stations that operate in Canada's largest single market, are owned by major media conglomerates and for some reason still think it's a good thing to look cheap. Maybe it's meant to be "edgy" - a favorite word of managers who can't think of anything new to do. In any case, it's distracting and just makes viewers think that the anchor can't possibly be as bright as the anchors on all those other stations.
3. Why in the name of everything that's holy would a Toronto station that wants to connect with Toronto viewers, hire a host from Fort Wayne, IN who's never lived in Canada before, let alone Toronto? I'm sure Janette Luu is a lovely person and I have no doubt that her parents love her very much. I still have no idea, though, what the hell she's doing hosting a show mere weeks after a number of other very talented, very hard-working and very Canadian hosts got laid off in March.
4. Why, on a television news program, am I being forced to watch and listen to columnists and reporters from the (freakin' awful) Toronto Sun? And why on God's green Earth is there no original reportage? Call me old-fashioned, but when I tune into a program that purports to be news and/or current affairs, I expect to see some reporting and perhaps a bit of informed commentary. All we get on Canoe Live is commentary wallpapered with the most generic visuals I think I've ever seen. If I wanted to hear what the high foreheads at the Sun think, I'd read their paper. Well... you're right...I wouldn't. Maybe it's because Sun TV laid off all their journalists and all but one of their ENG (that's Electronic News Gathering for those of you who came late to the party) camera operators.
5. Do I really have to tune to one of my HD channels - for which I pay real money - to see a standard-definition program that then goes on to show me a photo of today's Sunshine Girl? (For those of you unfamiliar with the Sunshine Girl, surf to http://www.torontosun.ca/SUNshineGirl/home.html for a sample) If I wanted boilage I'd pick up a copy of the Sun. Well... you're right... I wouldn't do that either.
6. If I'm even remotely interested in getting some modicum of information about what's going on in Toronto, why the hell does Sun TV presume I'd be even remotely interested in photos of viewers' pets?!? I kid you not; there were pics of a flippin' Jack Russell terrier up on screen as long, or perhaps longer, as images of Stephen Harper when they did their exhaustive coverage of Stephen Harper's latest imbroglio with the Parliamentary Press Gallery. And to whom did the lovely Janette talk for in-depth analysis of the issue? Maybe the president of the PPG? Nope. Perhaps Sun TV's intrepid national political reporter? Don't be silly; they don't have one of those. Who else? A Toronto Sun reporter! The mind boggles.
7. News organizations around the world, including the venerable BBC, have already figured out that so-called citizen journalism is anything but reliable; the BBC in fact hired a number of producers for the purpose of vetting the incoming videos and e-mails, in order to avoid the embarrassment of showing or posting material that is inaccurate, defamatory or just plain false. So far Canoe Live is only posting comments - and what educated and pithy comments they are - from unsolicited e-mails that mysteriously appear on the screen mere seconds after the lovely Janette reads the topic. (does anyone else think that's a little dodgy?) I'm severely tempted - and I mean severely tempted - to mount an elaborate hoax, shoot it with my trusty citizen-reporting cellphone/camera/whatsit and fire it off to the executive producer of Canoe Live, just to see how much of it ends up on Canoe Live *and* reported breathlessly as an exclusive by the Toronto Sun. Hmmm... my Scorpio side is already feverishly dreaming up the scenario.
Great googly-moogly! If I get any crankier about this particular hour of my life that I'll never get back, I think I'll give myself a stroke. My fingers were a veritable blur on the remote as I rushed to purge this steaming load of crap off my digital video recorder. I still get the jibblies just thinking about it.
I'm willing to give the show another look-see... someday. The show is supposedly in beta mode while they work out the kinks. Please, for the love of Pete, work out the !^@%$ kinks already! You might want to start by a) giving your audience credit for some intelligence; b) doing what news shows are supposed to do: report the damn news! c) getting yourself a real core of real journalists, as opposed to columnists planted in the Sun's newsroom; d) going out and actually talking to real people, if you're absolutely bound and determined to claim to be a news-ish program.
[wiping foam from corners of mouth]
Thanks, I needed that. Sometimes you just gotta vent, you know?
As a former TV journo I've watched a lot of newscasts over the years. I've seen some great shows. I've seen very good shows, and employees who did the best they could with the limited resources available to them. I've watched newscasts from independent stations and from network stations. I've watched shows done by newsrooms of sixty people and others done by newsrooms of ten. I've reported, produced, hosted, directed, edited, even done studio camera and audio. I like to think I know a tiny bit about the TV news biz.
Last night I recorded Canoe Live, the, um, "news" program that's being foisted on viewers by Toronto's Sun TV. Today I pinned myself into my recliner and forced myself, Clockwork Orange-style, to sit through the whole wretched thing.
How much did I hate this craptacular waste of an hour? Let me count the ways:
1. A television news show done out of a newspaper's newsroom. Whatever happened to editorial independence?
2. Who does a newscast these days without a teleprompter? Let's see now: cheap college stations; major stations who suffer a breakdown in the middle of a newscast (at least until the next break, when hopefully a technician or engineer can get the thing working again); and cheap-ass TV stations that operate in Canada's largest single market, are owned by major media conglomerates and for some reason still think it's a good thing to look cheap. Maybe it's meant to be "edgy" - a favorite word of managers who can't think of anything new to do. In any case, it's distracting and just makes viewers think that the anchor can't possibly be as bright as the anchors on all those other stations.
3. Why in the name of everything that's holy would a Toronto station that wants to connect with Toronto viewers, hire a host from Fort Wayne, IN who's never lived in Canada before, let alone Toronto? I'm sure Janette Luu is a lovely person and I have no doubt that her parents love her very much. I still have no idea, though, what the hell she's doing hosting a show mere weeks after a number of other very talented, very hard-working and very Canadian hosts got laid off in March.
4. Why, on a television news program, am I being forced to watch and listen to columnists and reporters from the (freakin' awful) Toronto Sun? And why on God's green Earth is there no original reportage? Call me old-fashioned, but when I tune into a program that purports to be news and/or current affairs, I expect to see some reporting and perhaps a bit of informed commentary. All we get on Canoe Live is commentary wallpapered with the most generic visuals I think I've ever seen. If I wanted to hear what the high foreheads at the Sun think, I'd read their paper. Well... you're right...I wouldn't. Maybe it's because Sun TV laid off all their journalists and all but one of their ENG (that's Electronic News Gathering for those of you who came late to the party) camera operators.
5. Do I really have to tune to one of my HD channels - for which I pay real money - to see a standard-definition program that then goes on to show me a photo of today's Sunshine Girl? (For those of you unfamiliar with the Sunshine Girl, surf to http://www.torontosun.ca/SUNshineGirl/home.html for a sample) If I wanted boilage I'd pick up a copy of the Sun. Well... you're right... I wouldn't do that either.
6. If I'm even remotely interested in getting some modicum of information about what's going on in Toronto, why the hell does Sun TV presume I'd be even remotely interested in photos of viewers' pets?!? I kid you not; there were pics of a flippin' Jack Russell terrier up on screen as long, or perhaps longer, as images of Stephen Harper when they did their exhaustive coverage of Stephen Harper's latest imbroglio with the Parliamentary Press Gallery. And to whom did the lovely Janette talk for in-depth analysis of the issue? Maybe the president of the PPG? Nope. Perhaps Sun TV's intrepid national political reporter? Don't be silly; they don't have one of those. Who else? A Toronto Sun reporter! The mind boggles.
7. News organizations around the world, including the venerable BBC, have already figured out that so-called citizen journalism is anything but reliable; the BBC in fact hired a number of producers for the purpose of vetting the incoming videos and e-mails, in order to avoid the embarrassment of showing or posting material that is inaccurate, defamatory or just plain false. So far Canoe Live is only posting comments - and what educated and pithy comments they are - from unsolicited e-mails that mysteriously appear on the screen mere seconds after the lovely Janette reads the topic. (does anyone else think that's a little dodgy?) I'm severely tempted - and I mean severely tempted - to mount an elaborate hoax, shoot it with my trusty citizen-reporting cellphone/camera/whatsit and fire it off to the executive producer of Canoe Live, just to see how much of it ends up on Canoe Live *and* reported breathlessly as an exclusive by the Toronto Sun. Hmmm... my Scorpio side is already feverishly dreaming up the scenario.
Great googly-moogly! If I get any crankier about this particular hour of my life that I'll never get back, I think I'll give myself a stroke. My fingers were a veritable blur on the remote as I rushed to purge this steaming load of crap off my digital video recorder. I still get the jibblies just thinking about it.
I'm willing to give the show another look-see... someday. The show is supposedly in beta mode while they work out the kinks. Please, for the love of Pete, work out the !^@%$ kinks already! You might want to start by a) giving your audience credit for some intelligence; b) doing what news shows are supposed to do: report the damn news! c) getting yourself a real core of real journalists, as opposed to columnists planted in the Sun's newsroom; d) going out and actually talking to real people, if you're absolutely bound and determined to claim to be a news-ish program.
[wiping foam from corners of mouth]
Thanks, I needed that. Sometimes you just gotta vent, you know?
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Back home
It's been a while since my last rant.
I went to Calgary last weekend for my nephew's wedding and shot about three hundred (!) digital photos. Much to my chagrin, the fact that I'm not a pro photog is still painfully evident. I won't blame my gear (notwithstanding the fact that I still don't have the swishy flash diffuser I mentioned in my previous post "Sizes"); nor will I blame the bloody awful lighting (a large high-ceilinged, darkish room with HUGE picture windows facing south and west... at sunset!). After all, it's a poor workman who blames his tools. Well, I had good tools and I still suck. The upside of shooting three hundred digital pics, though, is that I can get rid of the chaff and still have a reasonable number of pics that look good. Hopefully said nephew and his lovely new bride will be happy with my work.
I started thinking - I mean really thinking - about my summer holidays today. Frankly I should have been concentrating on something else, like perhaps work, but hey, that's life in the big city. I'm hoping to take three weeks off in July. And I mean off; In the past I've taken my laptop or *gasp* my BlackBerry wth me on holiday, and I usually wind up spending half my so-called time off, well, on. Last year I took five days (can you believe it? five whole days!) off without an electronic leash of any kind. It was glorious, although admittedly it came as a bit of a shock to discover that the world actually continued to turn without me being at my desk. Talk about an epiphany...
I went to Calgary last weekend for my nephew's wedding and shot about three hundred (!) digital photos. Much to my chagrin, the fact that I'm not a pro photog is still painfully evident. I won't blame my gear (notwithstanding the fact that I still don't have the swishy flash diffuser I mentioned in my previous post "Sizes"); nor will I blame the bloody awful lighting (a large high-ceilinged, darkish room with HUGE picture windows facing south and west... at sunset!). After all, it's a poor workman who blames his tools. Well, I had good tools and I still suck. The upside of shooting three hundred digital pics, though, is that I can get rid of the chaff and still have a reasonable number of pics that look good. Hopefully said nephew and his lovely new bride will be happy with my work.
I started thinking - I mean really thinking - about my summer holidays today. Frankly I should have been concentrating on something else, like perhaps work, but hey, that's life in the big city. I'm hoping to take three weeks off in July. And I mean off; In the past I've taken my laptop or *gasp* my BlackBerry wth me on holiday, and I usually wind up spending half my so-called time off, well, on. Last year I took five days (can you believe it? five whole days!) off without an electronic leash of any kind. It was glorious, although admittedly it came as a bit of a shock to discover that the world actually continued to turn without me being at my desk. Talk about an epiphany...
Sunday, May 14, 2006
A random rant
As is generally the case on weekends, I went to Starbucks this afternoon to sip on a moccacino (decaf, of course) and read the paper. As is also generally the case, I had my MP3 player with me to save me from the, er, music that usually bleats from the speakers.
I like to think my music collection is fairly eclectic, albeit predominated by jazz: today's sampling included Steps Ahead, Miles Davis (early and late), Lyle Lovett, Alain Caron (good to get some CanCon in there), Charlie Parker, Fourplay (a much better band than their crap name might lead one to believe), Crash Test Dummies, Jaco Pastorius, NOJO (more CanCon!) and Keith Jarrett, among others. Good accompaniment for the 'cino and Sunday Star.
Now, I quite like Keith Jarrett. My Song, with Jan Garbarek on saxophones, is a good album. Jan sounds great. Keith's solos are terrific, too... but he has a well-documented and very bad habit of vocalizing during his solos. It's distracting and just plain annoying.
I've heard a few jazzers over the years who sing along with themselves as they play. George Benson has made something of a career out of it (cf. "On Broadway" or "This Masquerade" from Breezin'), and it was an integral part of Slam Stewart's trademark sound. Oscar Peterson is another vocalizer, although he does it almost contrapuntally; he'll often play a lick in a call-and-response style, and then vocalize/hum/sing the response before getting back into it. My old friend, the late Frank Mantooth, was another vocalizer, although he didn't really sing so much as he articulated rhythms to himself (with a soft "t-t-k-t-t-k-t" as he played. It was if he was tonguing the notes like a horn player, as he churned them out on the piano.
Jarrett's squeaking has no redeeming qualities. God bless him, but every time I hear him play I want to teleport myself back in space and time to slap a big ol' patch of gaffer's tape over his yap. Ahhhh... even thinking about doing that makes me feel better. Just breathe through your nose, Keith, you'll be fine.
I like to think my music collection is fairly eclectic, albeit predominated by jazz: today's sampling included Steps Ahead, Miles Davis (early and late), Lyle Lovett, Alain Caron (good to get some CanCon in there), Charlie Parker, Fourplay (a much better band than their crap name might lead one to believe), Crash Test Dummies, Jaco Pastorius, NOJO (more CanCon!) and Keith Jarrett, among others. Good accompaniment for the 'cino and Sunday Star.
Now, I quite like Keith Jarrett. My Song, with Jan Garbarek on saxophones, is a good album. Jan sounds great. Keith's solos are terrific, too... but he has a well-documented and very bad habit of vocalizing during his solos. It's distracting and just plain annoying.
I've heard a few jazzers over the years who sing along with themselves as they play. George Benson has made something of a career out of it (cf. "On Broadway" or "This Masquerade" from Breezin'), and it was an integral part of Slam Stewart's trademark sound. Oscar Peterson is another vocalizer, although he does it almost contrapuntally; he'll often play a lick in a call-and-response style, and then vocalize/hum/sing the response before getting back into it. My old friend, the late Frank Mantooth, was another vocalizer, although he didn't really sing so much as he articulated rhythms to himself (with a soft "t-t-k-t-t-k-t" as he played. It was if he was tonguing the notes like a horn player, as he churned them out on the piano.
Jarrett's squeaking has no redeeming qualities. God bless him, but every time I hear him play I want to teleport myself back in space and time to slap a big ol' patch of gaffer's tape over his yap. Ahhhh... even thinking about doing that makes me feel better. Just breathe through your nose, Keith, you'll be fine.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Sizes
My eldest nephew is getting married next weekend (the "May two-four weekend", to use the vernacular). He's asked me to be the official photographer (whatever that means; something tells me I won't be getting a press pass). I'm happy to do it, but being something of a Man Of Expensive Hobbies, I just won't feel right unless I get some ridiculously expensive gewgaw that I'll be able to blame when and if the photos don't come out perfect.
So began the hunt for the perfect flash diffuser. I have one already that I don't like much; it's a pain to put on and take off, and the results have never been all that great. I went online to see what the pros and semi-pros are using these days. Opinions seem pretty evenly divided on two different bits of gear, both (mercifully) relatively inexpensive. So I trundled off to the local expensive camera store to try them out. The first one is dead simple and gives good results in most basic situations; "solid but not spectacular" as I like to say. As for the other one, I put it on the store's flash on the store's camera and started taking test shots.
Oh. My. God. Beautiful soft light, no harsh shadows, simple to use... I fell, and fell hard. I was in love. I handed over my Interac card and walked out of the store, visions of gorgeous wedding pics dancing before my eyes.
It wasn't until I got home that reality reared its ugly head. I discovered that my swishy new flash diffuser actually comes in different sizes. The flash I tried the diffuser on in the store was a slightly newer model than the one I have, so of course the diffuser didn't fit. Who would ever have thought that a big ol' camera manufacturer like Canon would actually change the dimensions of a flash head from one year to the next? I mean really... Jeans and shoes come in sizes. Pizza comes in sizes. But flash heads?
*sigh*
I guess planned obsolescence is still alive and well in the photo world.
But no problem, right? I still had my receipt; it would be a simple matter of trundling back to said expensive camera store and exchanging the offending diffuser with the proper one. But noooooo... to paraphrase Yogi Berra, my flash is so popular that no one uses it any more. I called all the pro shops in Toronto, then all the pro shops in Calgary (where the aforementioned wedding is taking place). Finding the right size of swishy new flash diffuser seems like it will be quite a production number. All I can do for the moment is return the one I bought for a refund, use the simpler, cheaper, not-so-in-freaking-credibly-nice diffuser and grumble a lot.
I remain undeterred, although my chances of getting this thing in time for the wedding are starting to look slim. But someday, trust me: my photos will have that just-kissed-by-God look to them. In the meantime, there's always Photoshop.
So began the hunt for the perfect flash diffuser. I have one already that I don't like much; it's a pain to put on and take off, and the results have never been all that great. I went online to see what the pros and semi-pros are using these days. Opinions seem pretty evenly divided on two different bits of gear, both (mercifully) relatively inexpensive. So I trundled off to the local expensive camera store to try them out. The first one is dead simple and gives good results in most basic situations; "solid but not spectacular" as I like to say. As for the other one, I put it on the store's flash on the store's camera and started taking test shots.
Oh. My. God. Beautiful soft light, no harsh shadows, simple to use... I fell, and fell hard. I was in love. I handed over my Interac card and walked out of the store, visions of gorgeous wedding pics dancing before my eyes.
It wasn't until I got home that reality reared its ugly head. I discovered that my swishy new flash diffuser actually comes in different sizes. The flash I tried the diffuser on in the store was a slightly newer model than the one I have, so of course the diffuser didn't fit. Who would ever have thought that a big ol' camera manufacturer like Canon would actually change the dimensions of a flash head from one year to the next? I mean really... Jeans and shoes come in sizes. Pizza comes in sizes. But flash heads?
*sigh*
I guess planned obsolescence is still alive and well in the photo world.
But no problem, right? I still had my receipt; it would be a simple matter of trundling back to said expensive camera store and exchanging the offending diffuser with the proper one. But noooooo... to paraphrase Yogi Berra, my flash is so popular that no one uses it any more. I called all the pro shops in Toronto, then all the pro shops in Calgary (where the aforementioned wedding is taking place). Finding the right size of swishy new flash diffuser seems like it will be quite a production number. All I can do for the moment is return the one I bought for a refund, use the simpler, cheaper, not-so-in-freaking-credibly-nice diffuser and grumble a lot.
I remain undeterred, although my chances of getting this thing in time for the wedding are starting to look slim. But someday, trust me: my photos will have that just-kissed-by-God look to them. In the meantime, there's always Photoshop.
Let the madness begin...
I'm a late bloomer when it comes to the blogosphere. I didn't even start reading them until last summer, when the CBC lockout created a flurry of blogs all spouting righteous indignation. Talk about cool!
Over the years I've gone through phases of journal-writing. I've even had jags of letter-writing that might have been worthy of an epistolary novel - if anything interesting happened, that is. The simple fact is that I've spent a great deal of my life actually writing things for a living. And now I'm going to do it for fun? What am I, nuts?
I think this blog is really about catharsis. I'm going to be curmudgeonly, I'm going to vituperate (as you'll soon learn, I love parenthetical comments almost as much as I love using big words) and I think I'm going to have a damn fine time doing it.
Why did I pick Voltaire2006 as a nom de plume? Simple. I think that if François Marie Arouet were alive today, he would be - holy crap - 311 years old. Wait a minute; what I *meant* to say was that if he were alive today, he and I would probably get along just fine. He'd still be 311 years old, though, so I could probably take him in a fair fight. Voltaire had a bit of a problem with authority figures (although he was apparently a great schmoozer), and hated bigotry, pedantry and, above all, intolerance. I think I could advance a strong argument that he may well have been the first curmudgeon. And who doesn't have a big ol' soft spot for the curmudgeons of this world?
I have no idea what the future holds for this blog. I might get tired of it in a week, or it may become a valuable therapeutic tool. Who knows? Someone out there in the blogosphere might even read this. I look forward to your comments.
Over the years I've gone through phases of journal-writing. I've even had jags of letter-writing that might have been worthy of an epistolary novel - if anything interesting happened, that is. The simple fact is that I've spent a great deal of my life actually writing things for a living. And now I'm going to do it for fun? What am I, nuts?
I think this blog is really about catharsis. I'm going to be curmudgeonly, I'm going to vituperate (as you'll soon learn, I love parenthetical comments almost as much as I love using big words) and I think I'm going to have a damn fine time doing it.
Why did I pick Voltaire2006 as a nom de plume? Simple. I think that if François Marie Arouet were alive today, he would be - holy crap - 311 years old. Wait a minute; what I *meant* to say was that if he were alive today, he and I would probably get along just fine. He'd still be 311 years old, though, so I could probably take him in a fair fight. Voltaire had a bit of a problem with authority figures (although he was apparently a great schmoozer), and hated bigotry, pedantry and, above all, intolerance. I think I could advance a strong argument that he may well have been the first curmudgeon. And who doesn't have a big ol' soft spot for the curmudgeons of this world?
I have no idea what the future holds for this blog. I might get tired of it in a week, or it may become a valuable therapeutic tool. Who knows? Someone out there in the blogosphere might even read this. I look forward to your comments.
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