May 5, 2012
Making Better Use of Our Rage

I spend a fair amount of time on twitter, and read ten or twenty articles per day, stories usually suggested to me by Canadian reporters or newsmakers that I choose to follow on the service. 

So far this year, there have been countless scandalous stories coming out of Ottawa about misleading jet-plane-procurement contracts, the reopening of the abortion file, slackening environment-protection rules, internet snooping, sneaky crime omnibus bills, sneakier budget omnibus bills and of course voter-suppression. 

I grew up during the Watergate years, and here in Canada, it seemed to me that our governments of the era went on high alert, quick to react to scandal, either by shuffling Cabinets, firing key people, or calling elections. Nobody wanted to be the next Tricky Dickie.

Forty years later, despite our vastly increased knowledge of the incompetence or cynical manipulations by our leaders, nobody seems to be held to account, and nothing really ever changes, no matter how deep the revelations of wrongdoing are. And, judging by the lack or meaningful protests, we seem to be OK with that.

The Globe and Mail even went as far as to laud our Prime Minister and his obedient team for a job well done in its first year of this term. This commendation comes despite the risk that Elections Canada may one day conclude that the governing party stole its 2011 mandate through one of the most elaborate crimes in election history

Meanwhile, half of Canada is on Facebook today. And many of us use the service to share our anger about the issues of the day there, or on twitter, or on comment threads at media websites and blogs, and tuck in for the night. Venting and sharing is great, it can make one feel part of a caring community.

But then what happens to our rage, to all of that energy? The news cycle of discovery/detailed-revelations/outrage/fade to oblivion/repeat/ keeps spinning, and we feed it by getting caught up in the outrage part. Who benefits from this rage if nothing ever changes

One winning group is news organizations, their writers, and advertisers. I like to think that reporters and journalists are on the side of the masses who need to be protected from power. It seems that way at first glance, especially when good work - such as the job Glen McGregor and Stephen Maher have been doing (virtually alone) on the election fraud story - can potentially help bring down a corrupt government. 

But the reality is that most credible journalists and reporters work for large media entities that demand sales revenues (including CBC), and sales are driven not by noble reporting, rather by sensational stories that spawn the rage cycle. 

Observing this collective of reporters on twitter is fascinating. They operate like a pack of ravenous dogs, attacking the same big story, trying to gain a unique angle, frantically digging for advantage over their competitors, ramping up the rage factor, even skewering participants in all directions with snarky humour. But once the story’s carcass has been fully picked, usually over three days, they run to the next meal, leaving whatever unanswered questions from past stories to rot. 

Yes, reporters and journalists’ work is indispensable, someone’s gotta dig up the dirt for the rest of us to see, but the value of their work - for the most part - seems hollow, they just seem to be providing material to feed the rage cycle.

It also seems we are only too pleased to help news corporations - and their masters, advertisers - by ramping up the ratings with our toothless social media rants, links and comment threads. The illusion is that we are somehow participating in the story.

However in my opinion, the media really couldn’t give two shits about the content of my comment or your tweet, they simply want as many eyeballs, page-views, and remote-control clicks as the story can possibly generate. They take our rage - our free marketing work - and turn it into profits.

Another party that benefits from our behaviour is our elected leaders - all of ‘em. One would think that our social media rage power and apparent accessibility to them would force politicians to be extra vigilant about keeping the masses off their asses. But it seems the opposite has occurred, that our power to vent is beautifully contained in the social media vacuum, a virtual cesspool to which our outrage is sent to die. 

Our Prime Minister has had reason to fire half-a-dozen Cabinet ministers by now, but hasn’t lifted a finger. His mandate keeps steaming ahead as planned. Opposition MPs, perceived allies for those of us who don’t support Harper, are tits-on-bulls when it comes forcing change. They say enough to position themselves as opponents to a policy, and as alternatives in the next election, and frankly, that’s about it. I’ve been expecting someone, somewhere, to keep pressuring the government on the election-fraud issue, but that person is nowhere to be found. 

One exception to our apathy is taking place in Québec. Leaders are having to take a second look at tuition increases because of the Montréal student protests / riots. The net result will likely be a compromise for both the government and students, but at least rage will have served a productive purpose. Keeping us buried behind our keyboards, virtually venting our spleens, is what leaders prefer we do; if it don’t bleed, it don’t lead.

Unfortunately, English Canada is not much of a protesting people, and we can’t be smashing windows every time Bev Oda orders a $16 glass of OJ. Maybe ignorance is to blame, maybe we just don’t know how to protest; we can barely get people to vote, let alone call MPs and organize. There needs to be a new way where this great engaged mass can influence beyond on-line rage. 

Sometimes I wish the eggheads who write those anger-inducing columns would present us with effective options as to how to make a related, effective change: write this person, call that group, organize this kind of petition, make this video, march here. But I guess that’s not their job, and besides, they have to pretend to be neutral.

I don’t profess to have any answers either at this time, but unless we become more effective at expressing our unhappiness over the current state of affairs, our rulers will just keep steamrolling over us. We - including me - are putting the pathetic in apathetic. 

March 17, 2012

(first of two posts) Between my 2012 cancer-surgery and chemo treatments, I got away on my own to Tampa/St. Pete/Clearwater Beach / Dunedin, Florida. I was VERY pleasantly surprised by the Tampa Bay Lightning hockey experience. As a Canadian hockey snob, especially a Montreal fan, I was amazed at the enthusiasm, knowledge, and volume of expensive new hockey jerseys being exhibited at the rink. It was a nothing game, the season is over for Tampa, but the Saturday night crowd was in a party mood, and there is no better rink for that. Outdoor sports-bars on the top level, concerts after the show, and a young demographic, hockey is an affordable date in Tampa, and it was a largely college-aged crowd and vibe. The organist was a throwback with a high profile, the PA volume was moderate (you could talk during breaks! unlike in Toronto), the promos were fun, and damn the rink is pretty. Hats off, Tampa Bay Lightning, great job! Oh, and Tampa stars Vincent Lecavalier in now “Vinnie” and Martin St. Louis is now “Marty”. Hosti.

March 17, 2012

Between my 2012 cancer-surgery and chemo treatments, I got away on my own to Tampa/St. Pete/Clearwater Beach / Dunedin, Florida. Over three wonderful days of hot sunshine, I watched my beloved Toronto Blue Jays play two Spring Training games and spent a wonderful three hours hiking around a spectacular national park, Caledesi Beach, just north of Clearwater Beach. It was like going back 200 years in time, what a beach might have been like in 1812. 

January 13, 2012
Cancer? My Arse!! has moved ..

I’ve learned that the host of this blog, Tumblr, is crap. Many folks couldn’t load the page. Why? Who the hell knows. 

Meanwhile, Google’s Blogspot is excellent. So I’ve moved the site there. And bought a domain name: http://cancermyarse.com 

Seriously. Click it. And that’s where the latest entries about this adventure are found.

December 31, 2011
My favourite things: 2011

Maybe I’m too lazy to create top 5 lists of 2011 favourite things. Maybe I didn’t get out enough. Maybe my memory ain’t what it used to be. So here, for what it’s worth, are my favourite things of 2011.

Favourite Food: I tried to do the vegan thing in January. It was fun. It didn’t last. Instead, I was turned on to Sukho Thai’s Pad Thai. Located near my studio on Parliament near Dundas East, this restaurant has received acclaim from near and far, and with good reason. I recall local recording artist/ jazz drummer/actor Daniel Barnes and I sharing numerous such delicacies over late evening video-editing sessions. 

Favourite Song: Jon Brooks - Because We’re Free. Of course I’m biased, I can’t say I’ve spent two or three memorable weekend roadies with, I dunno, Bono, but this song just kills me. Jon puts out a heavy question many of us ask ourselves in the course of our lives, especially in times of crisis: Why didn’t God help? , and answers it with Because We’re Free. Later, he uses the same argument to offer us optimism, that despite all the misery mankind finds itself in, There Is Hope, Because We’re Free. One can’t be a slave-to and a master-over one’s life at the same time. So simple, so brilliant.

Favourite Album: Alex Pangman’s 33. Toronto’s Alex Pangman turned 33, and decided to record the top hits of 1933 (and one original song written in the same style). Produced by Don Kerr, and featuring some of Toronto’s finest players of a kitchen sink full of great jazz instruments, it was the only record I spun regularly from cover to cover and without reaching for the clicker. 

Favourite Concert: Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, U of T Faculty of Music, February, 2011. I expected nothing, actually, less than nothing, I expected to cringe as the mediocre play by mediocre players massacred a piece held so sacred in my family’s heart. I expected the choir to sing Song of Joy in English (horrors!). I reluctantly agreed to accompany Helen to the concert. Hours later, I was still wiping away tears of bliss - I actually contemplated leaving the hall at one point during the finale, I was not able to contain my emotions. Incredible. Just incredible.

Favourite Person: For the 30th straight year, this is a no-brainer. Helen Louise Crouch. It has been a rare privilege to observe the evolution of this remarkable woman, and to savour her precious, unconditional love. We got engaged 30 Xmas’ ago in Montreal at this apartment building near the Forum where we shared a 3 ½ (montreal apt size term, one-bedroom for the rest of us) for 2 years.

Favourite Business Event: It was an exciting year, featuring many creative moments, from stage hosting to on-camera hosting, to voiceover work, and most of all, the production of video events. Our OCFF bio-film on Paul Mills was very well received, but the near heart attack preceding it when the screen went blue kinda took the pleasure out of the moment. The Canadian Folk Music Awards broadcasts went over well, but again, the work/pleasure payoff was not quite there. My favourite moments came at the Shelter Valley Folk Festival as the mainstage host Friday night, and workshop host on Saturday and Sunday. Performance still gives me the greatest pleasure, and those were very good performances to a very appreciative audience (thanks Jory Nash). 

Favourite Film: Midnight in Paris. Woody’s best film since his 70’s and 80’s heyday. There were some obvious weaknesses, such as Owen Wilson’s unfortunate Woodyesque delivery when delivering a punch line, but everything else was total eye candy. 

Favourite TV Show: RDS Montreal Canadiens Hockey (French). It’s the only broadcast I ever regret missing, or that I would record - if I had that technology. They do it right, from brilliant play by play, passionate broadcasters, biased homey analysts, and are candid to a fault. Never, however, do they go off the subject to support causes and issues outside of the game, nor is any single personality larger than the event. 

Favourite comedian: Louis CK. He is the unfiltered modern-man’s brain, especially his sexual brain. Download this film for $5.00 and enjoy forever. He has already raised well over a million bucks distributing his film this way, and has donated $280K to charity. Here’s the freebie outtake. Rated Mature, or, immature, if you’re the judgmental kind.

Favourite Shopping Moment: I was roped into going to Yorkdale in Toronto near Xmas. I fucking hate Xmas and I really hate shopping centres at Xmas. But I scored 3 Tommy Hilfiger jeans for $100 that Sunday. “Deck the halls with Tommy jeans, fa la la la la, la la la la la”

oops, those aren’t jeans - sorry, that pic’s from my modelling work, I don’t talk much about it ..

Favourite Rediscovery: Dancing at The Move. Dance like nobody’s watching. That really applies at The Move. Liberating, fun, childlike joy. 

Saddest Moment of 2011 - Jack Layton’s Funeral. Sad, but inspirational. I was glad we went to the street outside Roy Thompson Hall and stood with hundreds of others in the beating sun to applaud. I never voted NDP until this past election, and wonder if I will ever vote NDP again, but Jack got me, he resonated, it was his time. Alas … 

Favourite Facebook Comment by a Friend: Lenni Jabour describing Rob Ford upon the latest revelations of his, err, tumultuous domestic life: “The bilious idiocy of this man is endless.” Bilious Idiocy. Oh my.

Favourite Twitter Follow: What The Fuck Facts. Hourly pieces of trivia that really have me thinking: What the Fuck? Examples: Proportional to their weight, men are stronger than horses…. If Wikipedia were made into a book, it would be 2.25 million pages long and would take you [more than] 123 years to read…. 30% of Americans don’t know what year the 9-11 terrorist attacks occurred…. Adolf Hitler had only ONE testicle… Who cares if it’s true? Entertaining as hell.

Favourite Blue Jays Moment: I love watching baseball more than any other spectator activity. Amazingly, in our 90-second-video, channel-flippin’ universe, it endures, 3-4 hours of a 19th century pursuit, glorious. My favourite Toronto Blue Jays moment? The reveal of their 2012 uniforms. Gorgeous.

Favourite Smell: Our little dog Cinder, when he’s reasonably clean. I bury my nose in his neck every day to savour it, he’s old and won’t be with us much longer .. but I’ve been thinking that for five years now. 

… and from all of us, a Happy 2012 to you!! 

November 5, 2011
War - What Is It Good For?

Some are born into wealth and opportunity, others are raised into poverty and despair. I, like many others, was born into perspective.

You see, I’m a very fortunate boy. My parents, sister, and the extended family reminded me of that fact - not verbally, rather, just by having placed me in a position to observe them, up close, and personal. 

War ruined the older generation’s turns on this planet. WWII to be exact. Or in Omi and Opi’s cases, the Bolsheviks, WWI and WWII. Life in Canada was a compromise, a refuge, a place where they lived with sadness, but not necessarily in pain; they left pain behind, an ocean away.

They sought comfort by being together, wherever and whenever they could assemble. My Opi even brought his young second wife to family gatherings, to be with his first wife and her siblings. It didn’t matter, number-two was still one of them. 

And it was at those vodka-fuelled multilingual parties that the collective sadness cast by violence and loss emerged fully for innocents like Leni and me to see. Talk of trains-to-Siberia, death camps, narrow escapes, and whatever-happened-to- , were occasionally sprinkled with news of a survivor being located twenty or thirty years after 1945. 

These were the conversations about war and its ramifications that cluttered my imagination. Combined with body language - especially that of my mother - there was no mistaking the reality of the long term effects it brought to bear on its witnesses. 

Distressingly, we routinely dismiss far-away-wars involving unusual looking foreigners as “just” or “necessary” skirmishes. It’s easy for us to do, they are over there, an ocean away, in pain-land. War, especially at this stage of our evolution, is beyond incomprehensible to me, I cannot see an issue that cannot be resolved some other way.

On this Remembrance Day, I urge all to think about what the poppy’s message once was: no more war. Period.

October 17, 2011
Ontario Council of Folk Festivals 2011 

Another fabulous OCFF conference is behind us, and like waking up after a series of intense dreams, my mind is actively filing the emotional data into into their respective memory banks for later retrieval. Some of the many images that flash by my inner eye include:

  • Jay Aymar, in a fit of beautiful old-school friendship, shielding me from being splattered by the shit hitting the fan as the blue screen of death appeared in the place of our three-month labour-of-love short film during the 500-person gala-dinner event
  • later laughing my face off with roomie, videographer-of-the-folk-stars and rescuer of the near disaster Rick Scicluna (who put the FUNK in malfunction) and almost losing my breath laughing at Jane Harbury’s hilarious delivery of a series of terrible puns : “An invisible man marries an invisible woman. The kids were nothing to look at either”
  • being reduced to tears of happiness and pride when Sarah Mills - the lovely daughter of the subject of our film, Paul Mills - complimented our work, telling me we captured the very essence of her father (of course nobody saw the tears, I’m a man, for crying .. err.. in silence)
  • observing the astonishing concert by Mr. Rob Szabo - it was easily the most pro performance you’ll ever see, a man who knows his audience, knows what he’s there to do, and fucking delivers!
  • the beauty and grace of Annabelle Chvostek, perhaps the most underrated star in our humble universe, a true folk singer and magnificent musician
  • Kristin Sweetland, the very image the fiction writers of The Book of Genesis had in mind when they created Eve, whispering in my ear - only because she had no voice. She showcased nevertheless; another folk-soldier doin’ it for the team.
  • the subjects of a new series of films for OCFF answering FAQ about folk festivals, house concerts, and more, including Mitch Podolak, Carolyn Sutherland (happy birthday!), Paul Loewenberg, Manitoba Hal, Nicole Colbeck, Heather Daley (wow, what a story), and Dave Cool, all contributing excellent content in our top-floor hotel room/studio, and each mentioning the word “passion” at least once
  • the blissed-out happy faces of newlyweds Meghan Sheffield and David Newland
  • Jory Nash’s (perhaps) greatest song ever “An Old Invitation” and his lack of smugness around the Leafs great start (and the Habs horrible launch) to the NHL season
  • possibly helping a friend title her new book over a breakfast-scam restaurant in Niagara Falls (all you can eat $6.99, but pay $2.00 for coffee and no, we don’t serve tap water here, only bottles for $2.00)
  • Shawna Caspi, being a great friend, musician, music fan, shutterbug and engaging conversationalist
  • Magoo, Arnie, Flohil & Grit - just for being the characters they are

From here, it’s onto the Canadian Folk Music Awards in Toronto Dec 3 and Dec 4 as we live stream the event around the world. Until then, I just wanna say:

I LOVE MY COMMUNITY OF CRAZY DEVOTED PASSIONATE ECCENTRIC FUNNY LOVING ARTISTS AND THANK YOU FOR INCLUDING ME. 

October 17, 2011
Three of the most beautiful and talented folks at this year’s OCFF in Niagara Falls: (L-R) Rob Szabo (whose official showcase was a clinic of how to put your best foot forward), Kristin Sweetland (fashionista award), Peter Katz (talent to burn)

Three of the most beautiful and talented folks at this year’s OCFF in Niagara Falls: (L-R) Rob Szabo (whose official showcase was a clinic of how to put your best foot forward), Kristin Sweetland (fashionista award), Peter Katz (talent to burn)

October 10, 2011
Gratitude on this Thanksgiving Day

On this Canadian Thanksgiving Day, I offer my thanks to anyone who gives a damn about my existence, and to the many who don’t. My humble list begins - as it has for the past 30 years - with my beloved Helen, a fountain of love for whom I cannot be more grateful.

It continues with my tiny family of cousins ‘n aunties, many friends and special mentors, especially the fabulous Michelle; plus my co-conspirators at work: Rick, Kirsten, David, Trevor, the Borealis Records family, and the local folk/roots music community in which I have miraculously found myself despite having no demonstrated skill in creating or performing music. 

If I knew there was a God, I would thank it, but I don’t, so that would be silly. Suffice to say I am grateful for this imperfect spin around this imperfect planet, it’s been a trip.

October 10, 2011
at Meghan and David’s wedding, October 8, 2011

at Meghan and David’s wedding, October 8, 2011

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