04 March 2010

Really, critics?

Gag writer defends campy closing ceremony

First, go read that article by Valerie Fortney of the Calgary Herald. For the record, I've no idea if she lives in Calgary South (thereby being responsible for homophobic tool Jason Kenney being elected MP). Also, that last sentence has absolutely nothing to do with the article. Or with this post.

Now, I didn't watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. I didn't watch the closing ceremonies either. In fact, pretty much the only thing I watched was curling, hockey, and the odd bobsleigh run. Had I known that Will Ferguson was the ceremony's writer, I may have changed my mind. Probably not, but you never know.

First, I fail to see how anything that pokes fun of stereotypes on such a grand scale is either 'shameful' or 'cringeworthy'. First, if you're serious about getting rid of social taboos, one great way to do it is to make fun of them (do you hear me, Jason Kenney? While you were sitting on your arse at the Olympics instead of doing your job, people all over the world were using the words 'fag' and 'dyke' to make reference to themselves). Second, what harm does it do Canada to have a giant inflatable beaver and a bunch of Python-esque lumberjacks at an entertainment event? In my never humble opinion, the ceremonies at the Olympics are overdone and overhyped. I mean, the Olympics in general are overhyped. But, as my ten-year-old would say, Whatevs.

*I* think Ferguson was brilliant. It wasn't his decision to have Nickelback or Michael Boob-lay play instead of someone good. It wasn't his decision to have the Prime Minister have to sit through Canadian art which nobody cares about. Ferguson did what he was hired to do. If whoever hired Ferguson didn't KNOW he's a 'humourist' (different from 'comedian' in vague, non-self-explanatory ways), then that person/that committee is/are an/a bunch of ignoramus/es.

And seriously, what are critics paid to do? They're paid to BE CRITICAL. They're PAID to be poopypantses. Do you know what happens to critics? They die, like everyone else. So let's just enjoy all the good bits while we're still here, because when we harp on Bad Things like Jason Kenney, we ruin it for the whole log.
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03 March 2010

It's just that

We haven't much to tell you these days.

I could talk about the streaker at city hall in the Queen's City, but that's already been done. I could tell you about how Canadian Members of Parliament are finally going back to work (lousy shirkers). I could talk about how miffed I am that 'feminist' is used as an insult. But, I've gone through all of these things before.

So, I'll pose a question to you: what would *you* like me to blog about today?
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01 March 2010

To My Boyfriends

I love you all. You know that, because I tell you all the time.

Buddy Holly, you were my first boyfriend. Coincidentally, you were also my first dead boyfriend. You know what? I'm not going to harp on little imperfections like not having a pulse.

What can I say to you, Johnny Depp? Oh! A little lower, please.

Gary Oldman, I never wanted to have to do this, but...it's just not working out. I will always think fondly of you, and we'll always have Sid and Nancy. I just...I've moved on. And really, what did you expect? You haven't returned my calls in years. And, since you'll probably ask anyway (yes, I do know you that well), I AM seeing someone else. Hugh Laurie. He and I share a birthday (on the BEST DAY OF THE YEAR), and, well...he's FUNNY, Gary. He plays piano. Have you even ever SEEN his work with Stephen Fry? Yeah. Well. Not to mention in Blackadder. I think it's hilarious, for the record, that someone who played predominantly awkward twits in Britain is cast as a brilliant dickhead in the States. Anyway, Gary Oldman...that's why you haven't heard from me lately. It's because I'm with Hugh Laurie now. If y'all feel the need to engage in an EPIC CAGE-MATCH BATTLE over me, let me know. I'll wear something more comfortable.

I know you and I have known about each other for a long time, Keith Moon, but it's really been in the last couple of years that we've been getting serious about each other. And, just let me say, you make me *very happy*.

Wolverine, you're beautiful. No one could ever replace you. And that thing you can do in Yoga because of your skeleton made of SOLID ADAMANTIUM...well, this public forum isn't the place, but suffice it to say...wow.


You and I have spent many, many sleepless nights together, Neil Gaiman, and I think it's obvious to everyone that as my International Literary Boyfriend, you have quite a big responsibility in our relationship. I'm not difficult to please, as you know; just remember, I'm not going to kick you out of bed for eating crackers, so please bring the tasty onion-flavoured ones next time you're by.

Robert Kroetsch and Donald Sutherland, as my Canadian Literary and Canadian Performing Arts Boyfriends, I expect the two of you to get along. Donald, just sit nicely while Robert reads; Robert, Donald would do a Wonderful treatment of voicing your work. Also, I think both of you do the chess?

Now, the main reason I've mentioned all of you is because i have something to tell you. It shouldn't surprise you, and it certainly doesn't change anything between us.

His Nibs is pretty much unsurpassingly awesome. I love hanging out with him (you'll know that, Keith and Johnny, because you've spent time with us together. **Think what you will, dear reader.**), and he pretty much rocks. Even when he's being a jerk, I love him. You know when you have friends and they get in to a new relationship, and they're all annoying and smoodgy and snuggly and disgustingly cheerful all over the place? Yeah. Well. I kind of turn in to a brainless teenage girl around His Nibs most of the time. Until he pisses me off.

Anyway, yeah. Doesn't change anything. I just wanted to make sure you understand that while I love each and every one of you, His Nibs is my HUSBAND.

We can still make out, though.

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