When I boarded a TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) subway train car this afternoon and took my seat, I found I had a seat partner. One of my cameras boarded the transportation machine with me, and the natural thing to do was pose the "I Love Canada" button and snap away.
I too love Canada... more and more, with each passing day.
Late this afternoon one of my lovely clients surprised me with a box of a half dozen delicious Jamaican patties. How did this come to be? Last week I joked with him and his wife that one can get extra customer service from me if I'm fed.
"As a matter of fact, I sometimes prefer food over money."
I also mentioned that I love Jamaican colas.
Guess what I got: that's right, two bottles of Jamaican cola... two different flavours.
Immediately I devoured two patties. My oh my were they good. I could have easily gone for more.
The point of this post, believe it or not, was not to impress my readers with how amazing my life is, but to shout-out the patties' source....
George's Tastee Bread Ltd.
600 Denison Street,
Markham, Ontario
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George's Tastee Patties:
A half moon of flakey pastry filled with ground grade "A" beef, and a perfect blend of Caribbean hot peppers and exotic spices.
Watching a home-programmed double feature of Steven Spielberg and J.J. Abrams movies is easy. We know what we're getting, even to the point of unwelcome nausea and gastric ejections.
One weekend a few years ago I went random, self-programming two disparate, in time and place (and style), narrative feature films.
Beyond the Time Barrier (1960 - Edgar Ulmer) True Stories (1986 - David Byrne)
Beyond the Time Barrier I saw a few times in my childhood as it played often on television and at least once at my local movie theatre (the Astral in CFB Borden, Ontario). Watching it as an adult makes one appreciate its themes. For a child it was more about the interesting visual stylings, and chills. (Those horrific mutants.) The environmental theme is up front: testing of nuclear weapons 'back' in the early 1970s led to a horrible plague, all but decommissioning the human race. The survivors moved underground; the human birthrate eventually dropped to zero. There's more, all leading to a memorable ending — it stuck with me for decades. This time, Beyondthe Time Barrier was better overall than what I had remembered it being, which is odd given that rewatching a fondly remembered matinee flick years, or decades, later often invites: "I remember it being better than that." The passage of time in this case actually helped. By the way, the X-80 rocket plane that flies star Robert Clarke to the astounding year 2024 is in fact a Convair F-102 Delta Dagger.
In the mid 1980s I was a bit of a fan of the band Talking Heads, so it made sense that when band leader David Byrne released his True Stories I would arrive at Toronto's (now gone) Uptown Theatre with bells on. I left slightly disappointed. About a dozen years ago I gave the film another shot, this time on VHS. The loosely connected stories about the quirky but human inhabitants of a fictitious Texas town called Virgil resonated more with this viewer that time around. Spinning the Criterion 2018 DVD release made me appreciate True Stories even more. And there're those always cool Talking Heads tunes. A few months back, the motion picture side of things came up in conversation with a couple friends of mine. They both had much the same reaction: a gentle shake of the head and a "I didn't like it". One added, "The music was really good, of course".
After my double feature finished I realized that both flicks were filmed in Texas. True Story.
Postscript: What's next? Perhaps Aguirre, the Wrath of God and The Endless Summer.
"Irony ruined everything. Even the best exploitation movies were never meant to be 'so bad they were good'. They were not made for the intelligentsia. They were made to be violent for real, or to be sexy for real. But now everybody has irony. Even horror films now are ironic. Everybody's in on the joke now. Everybody's hip. Nobody takes anything at face valueanymore."
John Waters is great at "social criticism with wit".
As I walked down to my local coffee shop this morning, something caught my attention. Does that say what I think it says? Perhaps my wording would be less vulgar, but given my feelings toward all those self-described "Loves Jesus" charlatans we have among us today, I might articulate my pencil work as: "Fuck that, you hateful so-called 'Christians'."
Postscript: The original label-maker and poster probably does love Jesus, and sends love to all.
For Christmas one of my clients gifted me with a bottle of wine. I'm hardly alone on that count, but not popping the cork till a few minutes ago, I'm probably a rarity.
While I've known for years about Martini wines, I had never indulged in a bottle, due partly to the fact that I'm not a big drinker. My idea of wine is opening the odd bottle of Inniskillin BacoNoir or Pino Noir. Now I'll partake in a Martini Asti Sparkling. Product of Italy.
Since I got a fair bit of work done today, I figured it was time to treat myself.
POP!!!
What a noise! I almost jumped. But I did laugh out loud at the mini explosion in my kitchen.
A sip. It's good! A sweet taste. That was a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one.
My uneducated guess says it'll go nicely tonight with a movie....
Postscript: My old friend Stéphane told me a story years ago about opening and ultimately devouring an entire bottle the night before while watching That Hamilton Woman. My palette and liver both won't accept a full bottle, however a "large goblet" will work. Oh!... Monty Python and the Holy Grail will make a fun drinking partner!
Minutes ago I learned that today marks composer John Williams' ninety-fourth birthday.
While he's not my favourite film composer to have ever practiced that craft, that would be the late great Jerry Goldsmith, by a large margin, the maestro's connection with populist filmmakers Steven Spielberg and George Lucas vaults him to the very top of the public register. Some of Williams' concert works are equally fine, but not as well known to the average person, for obvious reasons.
When John Towner Williams passes on we will be left with... Hans Zimmer.
How the art has fallen!
An extra special birthday wish to a modern motion picture legend....
I recorded the above from NBC Today on Monday, March 27th, 1989.
Former Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau (1919 - 2000) fascinates many of us who remember when he was this great country's leader (1968 - 1979, 1980 - 1984). Whether or not Trudeau was a great Prime Minister continues to be hotly debated in some (knowledgeable) circles all these years later, with his influence on Canada and Canadian identity effectively evading denial.
Canadian writer Nino Ricci wrote a book on Trudeau that warrants being read if one has any interest at all in Canadian politics, or wonders what all the fuss from the Right is about and why they cannot dig Canada's 15th Prime Minister out from under their sensitive skins.
Part reportage, part history lesson, Pierre Elliott Trudeau (2009) is to me an important work about an important Canadian figure.
Ricci starts off the book by telling the Trudeau Tale from his own perspective. One of his elementary school teachers was watching a program on the politician on the school's portable television set. He said to the future award-winning Canadian writer that Pierre Elliott Trudeau was going to be an important man in Canadian politics. End of first chapter.
I could not put this book down. At one point there were just eighty pages to read and I picked up the book intending to knock off about half. I finished it in one sitting. Nino Ricci knows how to tell a story. The read was highly instructive from a background and historical perspective: This reader was surprised to learn that fellow Liberal party member Judy LaMarsh (1924 - 1980) absolutely hated the man, and had not known that Trudeau could be a physical bully — in a back coffee room he all but pushed Quebec premier René Lévesque around right before an important cabinet vote.
The joke for me is that I've never read any of Nino Ricci fictional works... time to turn a page.
No doubt more than one book is being written about our last prime minister, Justin Pierre James Trudeau. As long as it's not a mindless bitter Conservative's unbound rant, I will read.
Postscript: On one of my trips to England years ago, I had an interesting experience during a morning hotel breaky moment. A gent sharing a small table with me — the joint was packed — was from St. Louis. Somehow we got onto the subject of PET. The 'American' said: "I liked Trudeau!"
Yesterday I took a few minutes to clean out my wallet, ridding it of bits and pieces of paper, some of which held scribbles of unmarked telephone numbers, a ream of Canadian Tire money (my dealer was tired of having to return 'money' to me), and....
"Win Coffee"?
I have no idea how long that small paper strip was in there; probably a few years as Tim Hortons has not had the paper cup "Roll Up the Rim to Win" version in a while.
My guess is I can't redeem it.
I should give it a try. No doubt I'll receive a mix of laughs and confusion....
Five years ago, I, like many music fans, discovered a band by the name of The Linda Lindas. They were four young ladies wearing Riot Grrrl sleeves. I quickly became a fan, and though I had forgotten about them for a while, another cue informed me that they had released an album. To Amazon I went and ordered "Growing Up".
My schedule and interests are such that something, including a talented new band, can eventually fall from my radar set. Weeks ago I heard that The Lindas had released another album.
"The Linda Lindas - No Obligation" rests on my speaker ready for a spin. I'm forever 78 revolutions behind, but I'll let you know soon....
These ladies Rock! This punk-head has picked his favourite new band, The Linda Lindas ― actually, Bela, Eloise, Lucia, and Mila.
Like many folk, I first heard of this group in May of 2021 through a viral Twitter post highlighting a song by a bunch of young punks. The group, made up of one pre-teen and three teens, belted a tune which can only be described as pure punk. "Racist, Sexist Boy" is full of that youthful vigour expected of young women who are discovering the world of (some) men.
Almost two years passed, I had all but forgotten about the Lindas until someone posted a bit about their new album, "Growing Up". There they were, a little bit older, and more refined. I was impressed with how they had progressed in just two years... their earlier songs were good!
After checking out a few of the new TLL tunes online, I decided to order the CD. It is very good, great even. If The Linda Lindas are doing stuff of this quality now, wait till they gain even more experience writing and performing.
My favourite song on "Growing Up"? That's a tough one... "Why" for now.
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Last week I picked up the latest Linda Lindas album, "No Obligation".
When I was looking for things "Union of Soviet Socialist Republics" on YouTube a couple of years ago, something caught my attention: the Soviet-era synth-pop band Альянс (Alliance) and their popular song, На заре ("At Dawn").
The video is from 1987. It played and I was transfixed.
The band members in 1987 ― the group changed members a few times over the years ― were Konstantin Gavrilov (keyboards), Andrey Tumanov (bass), Igor Zhuravlev (vocals, guitar), and Oleg Parastaev (keyboards).
What I find interesting about the studio audience is their pure attentiveness to the performance before them. They look as though they're watching a string quartet.
На заре was written by Parastaev, the gent with the funky eyewear.
Igor Zhuravlev's high-octane voice zooms to the sky, and he sings here with great conviction.
The video is a revealing look at the state of popular music in 1980s USSR. It was hardly staid or static. Synth-pop was in on that side of the curtain, too.
One day in the late 1970s, Rush member Alex Lifeson flew his bandmates, Geddy Lee and Neil Peart, into Toronto International Airport. The airport's IATA (International Air Transport Association) identification code of "YYZ", broadcast by the airport's VHF omnidirectional range system as Morse code, greeted the music crew as they approached. The repeating rhythm called like a siren... inspiring the band to write a piece to exploit the sequence.
(Y)- . - -(Y)- . - -(Z) - - . .
Beauty, eh?
I love this instrumental piece.
Toronto rocks!
Postscript: YYZ is pronounced as, "why why zed". Say it properly or don't waste my time.
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(The video embedded above I shared from the super Canadian band's YouTube channel.)
