Category Archives: music

THE NUTSHELL: Balsillie, Weiner and the PM’s Kitten

A weekly feature, with a collection of random thoughts on random things.

POLITICS

Congressman Anthony Weiner pauses during his media conference to…good god! He’s not taking another picture, is he?
  • Congressman Anthony Weiner was exposed this week. No, wait. Congressman Anthony Weiner’s private life was laid bare this week. No, hang on. Congressman Anthony Weiner was hung out to… oh, the hell with it. You know the story. One of the people Congressman Weiner apologized to was Bill Clinton. For bringing the Democratic Party a measure of embarrassment? Or for not having the courage to show his crotch in person, in his office, as befits the party standard set by Bill in the 90’s? By the way, please stop calling this “Weinergate.” Because, if he had a gate on his wiener, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Actor Alec Baldwin has come to Weiner’s defense, with a sympathetic blog entry on the Huffington Post website. Now, I don’t want to accuse Baldwin of protesting too much, but, I sure hope that Pete Shweddy, himself, has not gotten his iphone a little too close to his Christmas treats.
Stanley, the Prime Minister’s new cat, refused to take any questions at his first media conference.

 

  • The Prime Minister’s kitten has a name. After a Facebook vote, it was decided the kitty’s name would be Stanley, in honour of the Vancouver Canucks’ pursuit of the Stanley Cup. The NHL has invoiced the PM a $10, 000.00 bill, for naming rights. I understand it’ll be paid out of Tony Clement’s G8 discretionary fund. Stanley is doing well, already being offered a pundit’s position on a SUN TV panel show.
  • The Senate Page who held up a “Stop Harper” sign during the Throne Speech lost her job. Why fire her? The poor girl was merely referring to rumours she’d heard that the PM was going to sing in public again. Just thinking public service, nothing more.
  • Sarah Palin supporters hit wikipedia, this week, and edited the story of Paul Revere in order to reflect her somewhat skewed version of his place in American history. No wonder that, for a short period of time, his page quoted him as yelling: “The Beatles are coming! The Beatles are coming!” Now, he wouldn’t have been wrong, had he bellowed that. Just way ahead of his time.

SPORTS

“Yes, Biff…I mean…Mr. Bettman. Two coats of wax, yes sir.”
  • Forbes Magazine says Jim Balsillie has been assured by the NHL that he’ll be given a team in the near future, if he “behaves” and doesn’t cause any embarrassing situations for the league. Maybe they should start him off with a puppy, first,  and see how he does with that. Actually, a goldfish. Goldfish, hamster, puppy, pony and then an NHL team.When you think about it, Balsillie ought to get the Masterton Trophy. Tried Pittsburgh. Failed. Tried Nashville. Failed. Tried Phoenix. Failed. He’ll try again. Now that’s perseverance, sports fans.
  • Former NFL receiver Plaxico Burress was released from jail this week, after serving a couple of years on a gun charge. I think he’d look good in an Argo uniform. Not as good as he did in a prison uniform, but pretty good. Burress would get a lot of respect on CFL fields, I think. Defensive Backs would give him quite a cushion, just in case he’s packing. If he were a quarterback, sure, I’d have a joke about the shotgun formation here.
    Tim Thomas’ beard: The quicker picker-upper.
  • Been told that the NHL has reached a deal with BP. When the Stanley Cup Playoffs are over, Tim Thomas’ beard will be turned over to the oil company so it can be used to soak up future spills in the Gulf.

SOME OTHER STUFF

  • Love it every time I see that Speedy Auto glass commercial on TV, where the two buddies are driving along and a stone chips the guy’s windshield. The passenger whips out his phone and hits speed dial on the cell to get ahold of a Speedy service centre. Really? Speedy Auto Glass is on his speed dial? Umm, what asteroid belt does he drive through each day during his commute to work to create the necessity of having a windshield repair outlet on speed dial?!
  • A Burlington man was caught driving in the HOV lane on the QEW with a blow up doll in the passenger seat. “But officer, what Tina and I have IS real, so she should count. Besides, the driver’s side airbag doesn’t work, so I have her straddle me when I see danger up ahead.”
  • Here’s an entertainment story that caught my eye in METRO, the commuter paper. “After months of bitter negotiations, Charlie Sheen and ex-wife Brooke Mueller have reportedly reached an agreement for custody of their twin sons, Bob and Max, according to Us Weekly. The two are said to be “satisfied” with the new terms, which weren’t disclosed.” I can only hope that by “the two,” they mean Bob and Max. And by “satisfied,” they mean that custody was granted to someone other than Charlie or Brooke.

FINAL THOUGHT

It was Prince’s birthday, earlier this week. I hear his birthday cake had a delicious centre. It was a raspberry sorbet.

 

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THE NUTSHELL: Changebook, Shaq And “Pull My Finger…With Your Teeth”

A weekly feature, with a collection of random thoughts on random things.

POLITICS

  • A new parliamentary session began this week. I envision the unbridled joy of all the rookie MPs, as they run across the lawn, toward the Centre Block entrance, much the same way those little kids ran gaily through the meadow at the start of Little House (of Commons) on the Prairie. Now, which of these youngin’s is the Melissa Gilbert of the group and will grow up to become a powerful political force? By the way, if you haven’t had a gander at the Top-secret Rookie MP Handbook, click here to see it.
  • Straight away, the House was vibrating with the excitement of the election of a new Speaker. Okay, “vibrating” is a bit of a stretch, unless you count the members’ blackberries constantly going off with messages from their spouses saying “when are you coming home? How long does this have to take!?” SIX ballots were needed to make this decision. At any rate, congratulations, Andrew Scheer. Enjoy that big, comfy seat. You’re 32 years old, so, bring some new ideas to the job. I suggest a super-soaker, to be used at any time, on any member who’s out of order. Or, even just droning on and on about some kind of procedural drudgery. Fill that super-soaker with coyote urine, for real disciplinary weight.
The Provincial Tories Changebook logo. Will Jesse Eisenberg star in a movie about Mark Zuckerberg suing them to recoup the money he lost to the Winklevoss twins?
  • The provincial Tories unleashed – er, unveiled, their election platform last weekend, in a little publication called “Changebook.” Really? “Changebook?” I hear if you sign up, instead of a “poke” button, there’s a “Vote” button. If Tim Hudak really believes he can, as Premier, cut taxes by $3.5 billion AND replace the $16 billion deficit with a $1 billion surplus by 2018, then he’s Mark Suckerberg. Still, it’ll be some exciting if they’re able to change their relationship status from “opposition” to “government” on October 6th. If they win a minority, they’ll have to settle for “it’s complicated.”
  • Well, we’re into it. A postal strike. So, is anyone able to read this blog, or is it stuck in a mailroom somewhere at the sorting station? I’m not really sure how computer technology works. I remember when a postal strike could stop the nation and lead to great, great consternation among the masses. Now, the only “great great” anything affected by a strike are the grandparents who still use the mail regularly. By the way, if you read the line “stop the nation and lead to great, great consternation among the masses” aloud to one of them, they’ll likely reply: “What? Oh, yes, yes. Great, great constipation if you eat too much molasses.”

POP CULTURE

Me, in high school. Yes, I knew Ally Sheedy.
  • Had CBC News on in the background the other day, when the anchor threw to a commercial with this teaser: “If you’re sitting at your keyboard, contemplating a hack attack on the Pentagon’s computer systems, you’d better think again.” I immediately stopped attempting to hack the Pentagon’s computer systems. And all I wanted to do was play a quick round of “Global Thermonuclear War.” Either the CBC has a pretty high opinion of its viewers, or pretty low. Not sure which.

 

  • Conrad Black’s appeal was denied by the U.S. Supreme Court. I agree with the decision, as I’ve never seen the appeal.
William Shatner boldly wears what no man has, at least boldly, worn before.
  • William Shatner received an honourary degree from McGill University. Travesty. Everyone knows that , if anybody deserves and honourary doctorate, it’s Bones, not Kirk. As a young man, Shatner attended McGill, earning a commerce degree. I hear that was a bit of a surprise, since he wasn’t much on attending classes, as indicated in the nickname his chums gave him: “T.J. Hooky.”
  • Black Eyed Peas’ singer Fergie received a perfume award this week. The “Fifi” was given to her for her fragrance “Outspoken.” It got the Fifi for “New Celebrity Fragrance Of The Year.” The Fifi for new non-celebrity fragrance went to someone you’ve never heard of and don’t want to smell like anyway.

SPORTS

  • So, some guy in Los Angeles decided catching a ball was a little more important than protecting his kid. Have a look. Drops the kid as the ball approaches. Yes, the guy’s a dork for doing this. Everybody knows that if you’re holding your toddler at a game and a baseball comes rocketing toward you, you then use the child as a human shield. Kid either mans up and catches the thing, or gets plunked, and, that’s a life lesson.
  • Shaquille O’Neal announced his retirement, this week, on Twitter. Or is that Kwitter?
  • O’Neal’s basketball career, as great as it was, just got in the way of acting projects. Curious to see how good he is, now that he can concentrate solely on his true craft. Can’t wait. Just so you know, if there was such a thing as a sarcasm key on a computer keyboard, I’d have been pressing it that whole time.
Vancouver Canucks’ forward Alex Burrows: A simple misunderstanding?
  • The NHL decided NOT to discipline Canucks’ forward Alex Burrows for allegedly biting Patrice Bergeron’s finger during some pushing and shoving after a whistle. Guess they bought his argument that he was only trying to “smell the glove.” Actually, the league decided there wasn’t enough evidence to proceed against Burrows. Right. He didn’t bite Bergeron’s finger. This was just another one of those annoying pro hockey after-the-whistle scrums where the players gather around in close quarters and suck, erotically, on each others fingers. Just part of the NHL’s attempt to be more sexy, is all.

Final Thought

If I’m driving along and I see Bono on the side of the road hitchhiking, do I stop and pick him up? Yes. Because then Bono would owe me a favour. And I’m pretty sure he can get tickets to George Stoumboulopoulos Tonight, right?

 

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THE NUTSHELL: Bush, Bettman, Flutie, and Popsicle Sticks

A weekly feature, with a collection of random thoughts on random things.

SPORTS

  • If this Winnipeg deal ever gets done, I’ve some ideas as to how Gary Bettman should make his grand re-entrance to Winnipeg. If he wants to keep it simple, may I suggest he just step onto the escalator at the airport and, as he descends, spread his arms wide and bellow “I’m back, baby! Miss me?” Parachuting in to Portage and Main would be way cool, but would come with the possible hazard of the good folk of Winnipeg converging and beating the living hell out of him for taking their team away in the first place. Best to keep one’s distance. So, being carried to the dais at the media conference, in a giant egg, and bursting forth in latex would seem to be the ticket. It would prove he’s hip with the pop culture of the day, and also keep him protected from the masses for as long as possible.

  • While watching Hockey Night in Canada, I heard the comment that Wayne Gretzky was one of the best ever at dumping the puck in. High praise, indeed. Got me to thinking: What other superstars were really good at mundane sports chores? For my money, nobody in the history of baseball issued an intentional walk better than Nolan Ryan. I’ve never seen a quarterback take a knee like Doug Flutie. I know, I know, Joe Montana was really good at it, too. I just think Flutie was a little better. No argument about this one: No racer ever followed a pace car like Mario Andretti.

POLITICS

  • Just another reason to bemoan the passing of Donald Trump’s presidential ambition: Trump/Busey would have been one hell of a ticket. Had they actually won, Gary Busey would have become probably the 2nd craziest Vice President in U.S. history, right behind Dick Cheney.

  • The NDP trotted out its “shadow cabinet” this week. Or, as the Tories call it, “cute.” Leader Jack Layton has vowed that his team will not heckle government speakers. But, I didn’t hear him rule out dressing in orange spandex bodysuits and dancing up on them.

  • Bob Rae accepted the job of Interim Liberal Leader. He was, at a caucus meeting, asked  if he had any skeletons in his closet. He joked: “I said I don’t have any skeletons in my cupboard; they’re in my living room.” Actually, there are skeletons littering most ridings across Canada, all wearing “Ignatieff 2011” buttons.

POP CULTURE

  • So long, Oprah. Your extended goodbye was so long. So… so… long.
  • There’s the growing notion that China’s factories are feeling the energy squeeze and that some of them are becoming too expensive to run. Global Sticks, manufacturer of wooden popsicle sticks, is relocating from China, to Thunder Bay.I just hope they’re not ever bought out by one of those fancy-dan composite popsicle stick manufacturers. Call me old school, but I like my popsicles on good ol’ sticks of wood, not those crappy, new-fangled carbon fibre deals. Sure, they’re lighter and make it easier to lift a popsicle to your mouth, but they shatter too easily when you try to bust your popsicle in half on the counter. Not to mention that $49.95 seems a little steep for a popsicle.

    A worker at Harpo Productions cat naps on some of the materials used to build Oprah’s self-indulgence.
  • Porter Airlines can dress up their little raccoon mascot all they want. It’s just like a defence attorney getting his client a haircut and new suit before trial. Because, no matter how often I see their commercial with that respectable, well-behaved raccoon walking through the terminal in a suit and tie and carrying a briefcase, I know – I KNOW- that little felon dumped my green bin all over my front yard before the airport limo came by to pick him up.
  • Bob Dylan turned 70 this week. Apparently, friends took him to Dairy Queen to celebrate with an ice cream cake. It was there that Dylan told the young woman behind the counter: “Ya gotta soft-serve somebody.”

 

FINAL THOUGHT

People in Toronto won’t cheer for the Vancouver Canucks because the west dumps on Toronto all the time. Because of this, people in Vancouver will dump on Toronto. Because of that, people in Toronto won’t root for the Canucks. Because of that… (cue Elton john singing “Circle of Life.”)

 

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THE NUTSHELL: Gaga, Arnold, Bettman and the Gremlin.

A weekly feature, with a collection of random thoughts on random things. This is the first edition.

POP CULTURE

Lady Gaga: If she’s so powerful, how come not everyone goes to work in a giant egg?
  • Lady Gaga (I prefer to pronounce it with the emphasis on the last syllable, by the way. Try it, it’s fun!) has just been named, by Forbes Magazine, the world’s most powerful celebrity, bumping Oprah Winfrey to number two. If that gets you a little down. Ms. Winfrey, just do what I do and try to buy your way out of that depression. For me, it might mean new shoes, or tickets to a game. With your spending power, it might mean, oh, I don’t know, a state, say. “Oprahoma” has a nice ring to it.
  • Someone needed to tell Arnold Schwarzenegger that non-natives can’t be President of the United States. Then he wouldn’t have tried so hard to be like Thomas Jefferson.
  • Downside: An 89 year old pastor in the U.S. predicts the end of the world this weekend. Upside: The “Glee” 3D movie will never see the light of day.

 

SPORTS

  • The NHL was given the League OF The Year Award, Wednesday, by Sports Business Journal. Nice get. I can see how they’d beat the NFL, NBA, CFL and MLB. But beating The Justice League of America, well, that’s very impressive. Commissioner Gordon? He couldn’t carry Gary Bettman’s codpiece.
  • The State of Ohio has passed legislation making it a-okay to carry concealed weapons in places such as bars and open-air sports stadiums. David Letterman used to make a joke about “Hard Liquor and Handgun Night” at Yankees’ games. Nice to know that some of those level-headed, mask-wearing drunks in the Dog Pound at Browns’ games might now be packing.
    “Why can’t I get Ben Eager’s deal?”
  • That now-infamous moment in Game Two of the Canucks – Sharks series where a young woman flashed ’em at the penalty box? Wasn’t she showing she was, in fact, more eager, than Ben? And about as smart?
  • My Argos season tickets arrived today. If you’re a season ticket holder of any team, in any league, you know the unbridled joy and pure, pure giddiness this inspires. Honestly. What is it about the arrival of my season tickets that makes me feel like I’m 10 years old, it’s Christmas, and I just this moment opened a package with my brand new “Super-Slider Sno-Skates” in it?
  • Those Honda Civic ads I see over and over and over AND OVER on Hockey Night In Canada make me pine for the days when I saw those “Roll Up The Rim” ads over and over and over AND OVER again, during The Brier. Not sure who I’m supposed to be most like. The zombie? The masked avenger? (The Avenger, now there was a good car) The troll putting on make-up? The cartoon samurai girl come to life? The trans-gendered lumberjack? Well, at least the accompanying tune is cool. But I need some sort of gimmick before I get a Civic.

 

POLITICS

  • Here’s a little nugget from Jane Taber’s Ottawa Notebook in the Globe and Mail, re: Stephen Harper’s ridiculous Senate appointments: “One of Mr. Harper’s MPs suggested that the Prime Minister is no longer trying to kill the Liberal Party but has instead decided to become the Liberal Party.” Ouch. Wonder who that was. Doubt it was Peter Kent, who doubled back on criticism of The Party during the campaign after waking, one morning, with a horse’s head in his bed. Well, whoever you are, GREAT line. The hell of it is, you’ll never get credit for it, if you know what’s good for you.
    Stornoway: Check for bed bugs. And any ex-Liberal MPs who may be squatting.
  • Michael Ignatieff has moved out of Stornoway. Now, I’m not saying Jack Layton and Olivia Chow face a huge mess when they first open the front door. But I do know that if the place is in half as bad a shape as the Liberal Party he left behind, Iggy ain’t getting his security deposit back.
  • Donald Trump has decided NOT to run for President. Too bad. Pretty sure he would have tried to take a chunk out of the national debt by building a lavish casino in the West Wing. Then, inviting Chinese President Ma Ying-jeour to the place and comp’ing him the Lincoln Bedroom, all the while ensuring he takes a bath at the tables.

FINAL THOUGHT

They’ve brought back the Volkswagen Beetle. They’ve brought back the Mini-Cooper. Now, dammit, it’s time. bring back the AMC Gremlin. Stylish, affordable and way cool. Tell me it isn’t prettier than the Nissan Cube.

Where’ve You Been, Ron Sexsmith?

Don’t worry. I know the real question is: “Where’ve I been?”

Sure, I’d heard of Ron Sexsmith. Well aware of his sterling reputation as a songwriter and interpreter of song. Good Lord, when Elvis Costello, himself, admits that Sexsmith helped him see “Everyday I write The Book” in a new light, you know there’s greatness afoot.

For some reason, however, I’d just never been interested in delving into Sexsmith’s almost hysterically respected canon of work. Until now. Thank you, Hot Docs, for that. I, almost accidentally, got tickets to see the film “Ron Sexsmith: Love Shines,” on the final day of the Hot Docs Festival. I mistakenly thought that my wife would really like to see it and that I’d be able to get through it, because, a good documentary is never a waste of time. Turns out, my wife was merely somewhat interested in seeing the film. I’d already bought the tickets, so, away we went.

Douglas Arrowsmith’s film about Sexsmith was originally meant to be capped by his subject’s triumphant appearance at Massey Hall (a lifelong dream of his) in 2006. Instead, it became a magnetic tale of a triumph of a different sort; a reclaiming of confidence.

Despite years of critical acclaim and fawning colleague reverence, Sexsmith had lost his mojo. Never able to break through to mainstream acceptance, it seems he came to doubt his ability to do so. He makes a conscious decision to change his approach, enlisting the services of super-producer, Bob Rock. The film chronicles Sexsmith’s struggle to craft something a little different (his latest album Long Player Late Bloomer), interceded with past performance clips, archival footage and biographical insight.

Not knowing much at all about Sexsmith, it’s hard for me to know if I saw the film with different eyes than longtime fans. Perhaps they knew and felt some things that were familiar, having followed Sexsmith from the outset. I can tell you that his polite, self-deprecating and stoically determined persona won me over almost immediately. Juxtapose that with soaring acclaim from luminaries like Costello, Steve Earle, Daniel Lanois and Lesley Feist and you quickly wonder: “Why isn’t this guy bigger?”  I almost felt guilty that I hadn’t paid more attention in the past. What becomes so readily apparent about Sexsmith is that this is a man who can’t quite grasp, or fully take in the hullabaloo that others create over his artistry. In that sense, the film’s final scene is brilliant. We see Sexsmith walking along at the CNE midway, seemingly oblivious to the lights and fanfare all around him.

Sexsmith says he felt the film turned out a little more downbeat than he would have thought. Perhaps it was surprising to him, to see just how fragile his musical psyche had become. Or, maybe some of his confessions about the guilt he feels about the less than proud moments of his life are a little sobering to see, especially for one so seemingly prone to self-examination. However, those moments in the film were among the most sympathetic to me, for there is nothing more sympathetic than true remorse.

It struck me, about halfway through the movie, that I wanted to buy Sexsmith’s latest album. And not because the music overwhelmed me. I just liked him so damn much that I wanted to be part of his triumph. The triumph of reaching new ears. As I put the finishing touches on this column, I’m listening to “Long Player Late Bloomer” for the third straight time. Turns out I don’t just like him, I like his music a whole lot, too.

After the film had been screened, a question and answer forum was held with director Arrowsmith and Sexsmith, himself. A woman in the audience told Sexsmith that she’d heard a song of his on the radio sandwiched between songs by Paul McCartney and Bob Dylan. “What station was that?” Sexsmith asked. “Not sure,” was the reply. “Sounds like the station they play in Heaven,” Sexsmith cracked as he glanced up, sheepishly , from the stage.

Maybe he was being a little sarcastic, a little ironically self – deprecating. Or maybe, just maybe Ron Sexsmith was seeing himself through someone else’s eyes.

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