the blog quebecois

The International Olympic Committee announced Monday that it has taken back the gold medal previously awarded to American skier Lindsey Vonn and given it to U.S. President Barack Obama.

More.

An installation for the Barbican in London, England. A description:

French artist Céleste Boursier-Mougenot creates works by drawing on the rhythms of daily life to produce sound in unexpected ways. Boursier-Mougenot’s installation for The Curve, his first solo exhibition in the UK, takes the form of a walk-though aviary for a flock of zebra finches, furnished with electric guitars and other musical instruments. As the birds go about their routine activities, perching on or feeding from the various pieces of equipment, they create a random and captivating soundscape.

Well, whatever. I was taken by the little guy with a twig, doing his best Jimmy Page impression.

The Telegraph:

The Sunday Telegraph revealed last September that the Libyan government had paid for the medical evidence which helped Megrahi, 57, to be released. The Libyans had encouraged doctors to say he had only three months to live.

The life expectancy of Megrahi was crucial because, under Scottish rules, prisoners can be freed on compassionate grounds only if they are considered to have this amount of time, or less, to live.

Kenny MacAskill, the Scottish Justice Secretary, ruled last August that Megrahi should be freed. Megrahi's release came after Libyan leaders warned that lucrative oil and trade deals with Britain would be cancelled if the bomber died in jail

Gee. Color me surprised.

Too-low vocals on most of this, which some might consider a plus. I was primarily concerned with the sound of the guitars, which were clipping the red zone of the VU meters throughout. Later on, we re-recorded this with legible vocals and whatever musical skills we could muster. It's not bad, if not the best thing we've done.

I don't know why I didn't think of it before, but one of those "Rate My Teacher" sites must have something on Michael Ignatieff. And what do you know? He also attracted comments such as:

His friends call him iggie, I call him Provis hater. He spent three lectures on her. Breaking down her argument for Mexican migration to the Canadian North. I heard he had a think against Ukrainians, I think he has a think out against Provanians. His class was suppose to be about Human Rights, not Provis. Who on a side note, I want to marry.

What that's all about is something of a mystery. I googled "Provis" and "Mexican migration" and turned up nothing of interest.

But what's this?

Very sexy. Lets TAs do all the grading. Extremely popular with mid-careers, so classes always oversubscribed. Doesn't particularly care about his students unless they are former political prisoners or attractive coeds

So, a typically grubby horndog. Nothing out of the ordinary there, eh? But think of the possible headlines: "Ignatieff A Flaming Heterosexual -- Has No Plans To Quit; Says He Was 'Born' That Way"

This is not going to play well in certain districts. Let the whispers begin!

FunnyCrave:

Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Distinguished Members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, citizens of the world, cat enthusiasts, fat people who look funny doing stuff because you’re fat, hot chicks who dance in their underwear and post video of it to YouTube, racists, conspiracy theorists and all other citizens of the internet:

I know you can’t see me, but I am here. I am here, and I accept this award with the deepest of gratitude, the utmost humility, and maximum pwnage. Selecting me, The Internet, as a recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize is proof positive that with the help of man, machines can break through the firewall of oppression and negativity to become something more than just a portal for free pornography. Speaking of that, please accept this photo of Megan Fox’s head on someone else’s nude body as a symbol of my gratitude.

I missed it, but Robert Brockway from Cracked had a similar take on it a couple of weeks ago.

Warning: Language in both pieces.

I was really quite pleased with the turn of phrase I came up with for the end of the first verse. It goes:

A ratty bag of ideas
Bounces behind his eyes
But then the rats do
Chew the fabric through

It's got yer internal rhyme, it's got yer assonance -- we are in heavyweight lyric-writing form here, folks.

Unfortunately, these fine poetic subtleties didn't survive contact with my mouth, which rendered -- nay, interpreted the passage into something like "Wharrgarbl."

It sounds at some points like I'm trying to fight through a cold, but I suspect that rather it was more the way I was recording vocals while playing guitar. Because I had no proper mike stands I had to jerry-rig substitutes which rarely came to the correct height; I usually had to crouch down over my guitar to sing, not exactly the best way to maintain breath control.

The Times of India:

In what sounds like a chilling script of a Hollywood science fiction, scientists have claimed that an invisible star, five times the size of Jupiter, might be lurking near our solar system, occasionally kicking deadly comets towards the Earth.

According to scientists, the brown dwarf star is up to five times the size of Jupiter and could be responsible for mass extinctions that occur on Earth every 26 million years.

They believe that the star nicknamed Nemesis or 'The Death Star" could be hidden beyond the edge of our solar system and only emits infrared light.

It is believed to orbit our solar system at 25,000 times the distance of the Earth to the Sun, the scientists said.

A "chilling script of a Hollywood science fiction,"` eh? Clearly a job only Hollywood stars are capable of handling -- paging Sean Penn! Yoo-hoo, George Clooney! Pick up the white phone, Susan Sarandon! Your rocket blasts off tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. We`ll radio with instructions once the screenwriters figure out what you should do.

Bon voyage!
`

The U.K. might be in terminal decline; but she still produces journalists that put the majority of ours to shame. The iconoclastic webzine spiked takes a realistic look at Alberta's oil sands and the stupid, stupid "documentary" it recently spawned:

While Dirty Oil suggests that we shift to renewable energy sources, it also provides a childish view of the relationship between big business and the rest of society. This is ‘big people picking on little people and assuming that they can get away with it’, says a spokesperson for the green group the Natural Resources Defense Council. The film also suggests that it is somehow our individual greed which, by creating demand for this ‘dirty’ oil, is screwing up the planet. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be better off; the whole world should enjoy the living standards of the average American. Cheap, reliable energy is absolutely essential for that. Alberta’s oil boom is set to continue for many years to come.

I gave my cousin his first guitar. At least I hope I didn't charge any money for it. When he was fourteen or fifteen or thereabouts his mother asked me if I'd sell her one of my old guitars, to give to my cousin for a birthday present.

As a bonus, I decided to refinish it. after attacking it for a couple of days with everything in my arsenal including a power sander, I was forced to conclude that the original finish was made of material intended for the heat tiles on the space shuttle. I had it about half-sanded off when I gave up. I painted the remainder with ordinary deck stain. My God, this surely would have qualified as a war crime, if anyone cared about cheap guitars, that is. Like I said, I hope she didn't give me any money for it.

Fast forward a couple of years, and my cousin has now found himself an electric guitar. We were living on opposite ends of the city, so didn't see each other that often; but the first time I was over he treated me to a screaming heavy-metal version of the "Hockey Night In Canada" theme. That was impressive enough; but he also seemed to have mastered every guitar lick that AC/DC and Rush had ever recorded, and a few that they probably had rejected as "too difficult."

A few years later, one day I asked my cousin what had become of the guitar. "That old thing? I got into an argument with (his younger brother) Marty and smashed it over his head."

This was recorded, as best as I can place, around the beginning of 1980 (these early tapes are somewhat mixed up chronologically). I know it rekindled my interest in songwriting, because there was suddenly someone in the picture with far more musical chops than me. This song was largely improvised (ya think?) and got its title from the fact that I was, indeed, singing into a silver bowl. (Actually, a large -- about two feet in diameter -- aluminum salad bowl). I figured it'd add some resonance to my vocal (it didn't) and more importantly, it disguised the fact that I was -- so to speak -- singing in public, which kind of weirded me out at the time.

Oh, that strange young fellow at the beginning, shouting lame jokes, incomprehensible ravings and manical laughter? That would be Marty, trying to do my job before I could wrest the mike away. So you can see why he was getting occasionally clonked in the head with guitars. You never ever steal the frontman's spotlight (even if he's hiding behind a salad bowl at the time).

A woman goes to her doctor's office, to discuss a strange development. She has discovered a green spot on the inside of each thigh. They won't wash off, they won't scrape off, and they seem to be getting worse.

The doctor assures her he'll get to the bottom of the problem, and tells her not to worry until he gets the tests back.

A few days later, the woman's phone rings. Much to her relief, it's the doctor. She immediately begs to know what's causing the spots.

The doctor says, "You're perfectly healthy--there's no problem. But I'm wondering, was your boyfriend that Harley guy in the waiting room?"

The woman stammers, "Why, yes, but how did you know?"

The Globe and Mail:

Liberal attempts to ignite muffled anti-abortion sentiment on Conservative benches and foster doubts about the social policies of Prime Minister Stephen Harper have been foiled from within.

A motion by Liberal MP Bob Rae demanding that the government’s maternal and child health initiative for the world’s poorest regions include “the full range of reproductive health options” was defeated by a vote of 144-138 yesterday when three Liberal MPs - all long-time opponents of abortion - voted against it.

The Tories immediately pounced on the result, saying it shows Liberal Leader Michael Ignatieff does not have control of his own caucus.

There was much talk during the day about the wording of the motion, which did not specifically reference abortion. The New Democrats said that was a capitulation to the dissent within Liberal ranks.

Liberal MP Paul Szabo, who voted against the motion, told LifeSiteNews.com that he was caught off-guard by the topic of the motion, which, he said, was not raised at the party caucus meeting.

“I am a pro-life MP,” said Mr. Szabo,“ and there are many of my colleagues in the Liberal caucus who will protect the unborn in their decisions as parliamentarians, and should matters come before the House, they will continue to act accordingly.”

Mr. Rae said the party understands that it is not up to Canada to dictate the reproductive policies of other countries.

But, he told reporters, the Conservative government must make clear whether it intends to cut off funding to those international development groups that fund and facilitate abortion and other forms of contraception.

No, you don't seem to understand how the world works. As I've mentioned before, I lived in Mali, West Africa for two years back in the '70s. At the time it wasn't even considered part of the Third World - it, along with other basketcases like Bangladesh and North Korea were consigned to Fourth World status. Per capita annual income was a pitiful sub-$100 (U.S.). It's since risen to around $1500, largely because in the '90s they ditched the ruinous socialist policies so beloved of Mr. Rae and his comrades.

Mali is also an Islamic country (albeit a very tolerant one) and doubtlessly forbids abortion on that basis alone; but let us leave religious arguments out of this altogether.

The simple fact is this: In a country so disastrously poor, children are the only wealth available to ordinary people. They work on the farm or in the family business and typically stay in the household even after marriage, contributing to the family. They alone will care for aging parents -- there are no pensions nor retirement villages. So Rae's proposal is the equivalent of ripping up pensioners' old age cheques.

Somehow the subject never came up; but had I suggested it, I suspect the Malians would have regarded me with incomprehension and fear, as though I had suddenly sprouted goat horns and a rotating third eye on my forehead. Then they would have kicked my ass around the block.

So I think that it's important that Bob Rae immediately embarks on a foreign tour to sell his wonderful scheme. And take Hedy Fry with you.

I bought my first drum machine a Panasonic something-or-other. It was pretty basic, with only three instruments -- the snare, bass drum and cymbal and four or six preset rhythms. You could also play it manually by tapping on three tiny buttons. If you would guess that playing the "drums" with such a setup would be difficult, you would be correct. By way of comparison, my present drum machine has some 400 preset sampled drum patterns, and another 400 slots you can add new ones to; 16 full drum kits; room to store up to 99 complete songs; and 7 large switchable force-sensitive keypads. I still wouldn't want to attempt playing real-time drums, though I imagine I could make an unholy -- if erratic -- racket with it.

I kind of liked this song -- so much so, that I restarted it a couple of minutes in, when I decided that my posture -- probably on the couch, flat on my back -- wasn't consonant with best performance standards. The verses aren't anything special, but the chorus had a nice melody.

The plane slowed and leveled out about a mile aboveground. Up ahead, the Viennese castle glowed like a fairy tale palace. When the pilot gave the thumbs-up, Gerald Blanchard looked down, checked his parachute straps, and jumped into the darkness. He plummeted for a second, then pulled his cord, slowing to a nice descent toward the tiled roof. It was early June 1998, and the evening wind was warm. If it kept cooperating, Blanchard would touch down directly above the room that held the Koechert Diamond Pearl. He steered his parachute toward his target.

Wired magazine has a long and fascinating piece on a (now-retired) Canadian conman and cat-burglar (does anyone still use that term?). You get the feeling that people are shopping screenplays around as we speak.

National Post:

Sumo suits, the plastic novelties that can transform a skinny sports fan into a comically unstable sphere for the delight of a stadium audience, are racist and dehumanizing instruments of oppression, according to the student government of Queen's University.
They "appropriate an aspect of Japanese culture," turn a racial identity into a "costume," and "devalue an ancient and respected Japanese sport, which is rich in history and cultural tradition." They also "fail to capture the deeply embedded histories of violent and subversive oppression that a group has faced."

Yes, who does not condemn the "violent and subversive [sic] oppression" that sumo wrestlers have struggled against?

You guys are just making stuff up as you go along, right? Right?

[ . . . ]

"We would never want to host an event that would offend some members," Mr. [student union communications officer Brendan] Sloan said.

Last year, in a story that made national headlines, the Queen's administration appointed six "dialogue facilitators" to promote discussion of social justice, partly by intervening in conversations when they overhear offensive speech. The resulting scandal led to the appointment of an expert panel, including a former head of the Ontario Human Rights Commission, which cancelled the program as "incompatible with the atmosphere required for free speech."

The student government was to meet last night to discuss another fun activity as a replacement for the sumo suits, Mr. Sloan said.

Might I suggest a torchlit parade, followed by a jolly book-barbeque and a few rousing choruses of the "Horst-Wessel-Lied"?

National Post:

On Tuesday, British Foreign Secretary David Miliband and U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton both said the G8 must include abortions in any initiative aimed at improving maternal health.

"You cannot have maternal health without reproductive health and reproductive health includes contraception and family planning and access to legal, safe abortions," Ms. Clinton said Tuesday after a two-day meeting in Gatineau, Que., of G8 foreign ministers.

Mr. Ignatieff said the comments from Clinton and Miliband should serve as a wake-up call to Harper, that Canada is out-of-touch with its closest allies.

"Canada took a knock in the last two days and it shouldn't have. The government should have stood up and been clear and understand what the international consensus on that issue is," Mr. Ignatieff said.

"I just think that a G8 country like Canada should get up and be clear. Hillary Clinton was admirably clear about what the international consensus on maternal health is. It's what we've been saying, it's what G8 countries have been saying," said Mr. Ignatieff. "That's the position Canada should take and Canadians need to notice that's not the position taken by this government."

Oh, well, Hillary! has spoken, and she is part of the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pantsuit; so she's unimpeachable, unlike her hubby.

I wonder if Iggy plans to set up free abortion clinics in America? Sure, abortion is available, but not with federal dollars so long as the Stupak deal holds. There's always Planned Parenthood, but that's no charity. Cash on the barrel, or beat it, buddy (though it has been known to encourage . . . targeted donations).

Remember, it's for the children.