My god, I hate Starr Jones.

Was there really confusion about Canada’s role in the US missile defense shield plan? I couldn’t figure out what would possess Frank McKenna to say that we were already part of it, making his first public act as ambassador to the US a blunder. But a week ago today, The Economist had labelled the Prime Minister “Mr. Dithers”; did Mr. Martin, in an attempt to counter that perception, ask his buddy Frank to lob him a softball?

Is Frank McKenna the new Jeff Gannon? Anybody know if the former NB premier owns any gay porn sites? Or any porn sites, really.

Just got M² and I two tickets to see The Arcade Fire in April. As much as I hate them, I have to give Ticketmaster props (or ups, or whatever they’re called this month) for redesigning their site. It only took 30 seconds to get from the first screen to the confirmation page.

I haven’t listened to music radio in years. I stopped listening to The Edge in 2001 when it became a constant loop of Creed & Nickelback (and thus, about as edgy as 1% milk). The only radio I’ve heard in the past 4 years is the occasional shot of CBC.

But now, after reading about the promise that internet radio is fulfilling at last, I decided to check out the link Duarte sent me a few days ago. About ten minutes ago I fired up woxy.com. So far they’ve played “On The Edge Of” by Low, “Catch Me Up” by Gomez, “Tear Off Your Own Head” by Elvis Costello and “Wake Up” by The Arcade Fire.

I’m converting all my CDs to MP3. I plan to listen to radio only through the internet. Viva la revolution.

update: Arcade Fire just finished. They’ve moved on to the Flaming Lips. I could be here a while.

If you haven’t seen Falling Angels (imdb | rotten tomatoes) (and I assume you haven’t, since it’s Canadian), you should. It’s based on a Barbara Gowdy novel that I’d never read. It was funny, but included the deep dark secrets and hidden shame that seems to be requisite in Canadian novels. Its characters were quirky (also a must-have for CanLit, apparently), but not ridiculous. It had angst, sex, black humour, LSD, twins, home renovations, 60s kitsch, sapphic undertones and bomb shelters.

What else does a growing boy (or girl) need? Get out and rent it. I say we reward Canadian filmmakers when they make a good one.

Yup, it’s official. The pope is a twat.

Google does movies.

Tomorrow morning I’ll be trying like mad to get tickets for M² and myself to the Arcade Fire show in April. I don’t feel great about my chances, since every hipster and indie kid in the GTA will want to go, not to mention corporate lackeys clinging disperately to musical coolness like M² and myself.

The hard drive arrived this morning. Merci, Futureshop + Purolator. Now the trick will be to find time between accounting assignments, episodes of The Wire and Baba O’s visit to install it & wipe the old one.

Holy fucking shit: idiots reach new level of idiotude.