God help him if he'd brought I Married A Communist

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In reaction to this story in The Independent…

In a world where terrorists can strike anytime, anywhere, eternal vigilance is a must. This is why we must applaud the initiative of a Cairns, Australia, bouncer who, according to this story in The Independent, kicked a man out of a pub for reading Richard Flanagan’s novel The Unknown Terrorist. (The novel, by the way, is about a woman who is wrongly identified as a terrorist.)

…the Quill & Quire looks for other books that bouncers should be on the lookout for. Funny.

[tags]quill and quire, richard flanagan, unknown terrorist[/tags]

Maybe I should invite a personal trainer over next

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Nothing like hosting a few social gatherings to put our asses in gear. After painting last weekend we spent this weekend acquiring new lighting and hanging pictures. It’s actually starting to look like someone lives here.

.:.

Yesterday, when I called No Country For Old Men one of the best movies I’ve seen all year, it got me thinking…what other 2007 films did I see that were good? It’s hard to think back to January…fortunately I keep my feathers numbered a database for just such an emergency.

The five best I’ve seen this year would probably be The Bourne Ultimatum, Gone Baby Gone, Superbad, Zodiac and, of course, No Country For Old Men. I saw others that were pretty good, but those are the ones I’d consider really good films. I was about to say that it seems like a pretty light year, but I guess I haven’t seen any of The Assassination Of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford, Control, The Darjeeling Limited, Eastern Promises, Inland Empire, Into The Wild, Iraq In Fragments, The Kingdom, Lars And The Real Girl, The Lookout, Michael Clayton, Once, Sicko, This Is England or We Own The Night yet. So I’ll get back to you.

[tags]condo decorating, no country for old men, best films of 2007, bourne ultimatum, gone baby gone, superbad, zodiac[/tags]

"It's been traveling twenty-two years to get here. And now it's here."

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

The sun was almost piercing this morning when it first came up. Came right through the blind at me.

.:.

Last night Nellie and I went to see No Country For Old Men (imdb | rotten tomatoes) at the Varsity. My god, what a movie. Probably the best I’ve seen all year. The writing — adapted very closely from the novel, I’m told by a co-worker who read it — was incredible. It was tense and engaging and funny in that Coen Brothers way.

It was also brutal. Very, very brutal; if you’re the kind of person who’s uneasy about film violence, you might choose to avoid it, but man…the characters and scenes evoked by this film are just unforgettable. I’m fairly certain my next nightmare will feature Javier Bardem in a pageboy haircut. If you can take the violence* and you generally appreciate Coen Brothers films then I can’t recommend the movie enough.

Ooh…before the film started we saw the trailer for There Will Be Blood, the new Paul Thomas Anderson film starring Daniel Day-Lewis. While it’s not a horror film, the preview could best be described as chilling.

* Comparing it to other films, I’d say it’s more violent than The Departed; maybe more like A History Of Violence.

.:.

We bought a laser level / stud finder this morning. I figure this makes me about 3% more domestic than I was yesterday.

[tags]toronto sunrise, no country for old men, there will be blood, javier bardem, coen brothers, laser level stud finder[/tags]

Starter this, you GoDork

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I had my eyes checked today for the first time since I was…I don’t know, maybe 12? I’d probably have to ask my mother.

Anyway, it turns out my eyes are still primo quality. I did all the little tests and he told me that, barring any accidents, my vision should be fine for at least another ten years. I was actually a tiny bit surprised; I figured that 28 years of looking at computer screens had probably taken a toll on my eyes. Then again, neither of my brothers wear glasses, and they’re both older than me. I guess we should thank our parents for making us eat all those carrots as a kid…

.:.

Some music-related goodies for you:

  • Download this Rebekah Higgs song. It’s the catchiest thing I’ve heard in weeks. Oh, and…girlfriend du jour. [via Chromewaves]
  • For a while now Carrie Brownstein, of the late lamented Sleater-Kinney (one of the very few great rock bands to go out at their peak) has been blogging for NPR. It’s been a good read so far. She even made with the funny today. Check out the blog.
  • Download this Mogwai cover of The Pixies’ “Gouge Away”. It’s about six different kinds of good. There’s just something sublimely menacing about Black Francis lyrics sung with a Glaswegian accent. [via Stereogum]

.:.

The Toronto Star threw together a very sloppy piece today about the condo boom. The piece is subtitled “As the cost of homes skyrocket, more prospective homebuyers are giving up dreams of bungalows with white picket fences and are seeking alternatives,” but nothing in the piece supports this notion. There are tons of stats about how many condos are being sold, but apart from two anecdotal stories there’s no research to suggest this is why people are buying condos.

I own a condo. I know other people who own condos. I’ve never, ever spoken to someone who really wanted a house but just couldn’t afford one and, in desperation, bought a condo instead. I’m sure lots of people want to own a house and still be downtown, but when that doesn’t work out they don’t sulk and buy a condo. They move to Whitby. The condo owners I know bought one because they want to be downtown. They want ten minutes on the subway instead of 90 minutes on the 401. They don’t want to shovel walks and prune dead branches. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with living way out there (though it’s clearly not for me); the people who really want a house are willing to do it, and good on them. It’s exactly my point.

Condos aren’t low-priced substitutes for expensive houses. The suburbs are. Unfortunately the Star perpetuated that myth without backing it up, which means I’ll have to put up with the occasional condescending remark from a suburbanite (e.g., “Oh, well, everybody needs a starter home!”) when I mention I live in a condo.

[tags]eye test, rebekah higgs, girlfriend du jour, carrie brownstein, mogwai, pixies, gouge away, toronto condos[/tags]

To be fair, everything looks like twaddle under an electron microscope

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I’ve been too busy to blog (or think) much lately, so no sparkling insight or stunning revelations from me right now. Sorry.

.:.

I am shocked — shocked and appalled — that those Q-Ray bracelets I’ve been seeing in late-night infomercials for years are completely worthless. Wendy Mesley, why do you hate America?

.:.

One lesser-known blog I like to read is Laura Bogomolny’s. She’s a former writer at Canadian Business magazine who’s now doing her MBA at Columbia, and occasionally writes about her classes, the program, life in New York, etc. Today she wrote about a negotiation exercise she did side-by-side with law students:

When the law students were asked if it looked like fun to be the business person in the negotiation, over half of the law students raised their hands. When the business school students were asked if it looked like fun to be the lawyer, not a single hand went up.

OK, I’m not shocked by that one.

.:.

The musical inbox is piling up again. The more recent additions:

  • Annuals . Be He Me
  • Jealous Girlfriends . Comfortably, Uncomfortable
  • Puscifer . V Is For Vagina
  • Robert Plant & Alison Krauss . Raising Sand
  • Sigur Ros . Hvarf-Heim
  • Sigur Ros . Svarf
  • Various Artists (Stereogum) . Drive XV
  • Weakerthans . Reunion Tour
  • Yeasayer . All Hour Cymbals

I need to find a way to listen to this stuff. My job doesn’t really allow me time to listen to music at my desk anymore.

[tags]q-ray, cbc, wendy mesley, laura bogomolny, columbia university, mba, jealous girlfriends, puscifer, sigur ros, weakerthans, naysayer[/tags]

Ten-year-olds and shut-ins.

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On the plus side, we had the day off today. On the other hand, it was an ugly day outside, so we didn’t venture beyond our doorstep much…just shut it down and conserved our energy for the week ahead. We did manage to put up a few pictures, and we just watched a movie: Hollywoodland (imdb | rotten tomatoes). Meh. Not bad, but I’ll forget it by tomorrow.

.:.

I’ll do the Toronto Star one better: it’s time to retire the national embarrassment that is Don Cherry. He is far from an impartial analyst (he openly cheers for the Leafs, “good Canadian boys” and anyone who doesn’t wear a visor), and his opinion is stuck in the goonish 1970s/80s.

“If the instigator rule wasn’t in you could get this guy and wipe him out,” Cherry thundered, apparently not sated by the first-period fisticuffs. “This is what’s bad about hockey when you have a little guy yapping around and you can’t do anything about it.”

Indeed. Retire him, CBC. There’re plenty of cavemen on TV to go around.

.:.

Oxford American magazine has a great article about the nature of indie music. It intersperses the history of a 2006 buzz band with a description of the tastemaking machine that turns out these hot new things with dizzying speed. It talks about the fever that infects these tastemakers, where the discovery of something new becomes more important than the music itself:

“But the second time,” he went on, “well, now it sold out early, and it’s at a bigger club. And I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not the guy discovering them. I’m just a guy who is with everybody else who also knows who they are.”

The article mentions how Pitchfork likens a band to, among others, Animal Collective. I thought for a long time that I just didn’t get this band, but I think now I do. I still don’t like them; I think I’m just on to the scam. I ranted on my friend Joe’s blog about them a while ago; rather than repeat myself I’ll just paste here what I wrote there:

Animal Collective is one of those bands that indie hipster nerds (by which I mean those people who want the label more than they want to listen to the music) profess to love because they know the band will never be mainstream and no one will, as a consequence, question their indie cred for having once liked a mainstream band. Nobody actually *likes* their music. It’s like a secret indie handshake. “Hey, you like Animal Collective? Yeah? Cool, we can hang out then.”

It’s like film students who claim to love Un Chien Andalou…no they don’t. But no one else ever will either, so they keep it for themselves so they can have their little club.

Indie became a scene not because it was a genre of music but because it wasn’t popular and mainstream. Now that indie music is just as mass-produced and marketed as any other genre, the indie hipster nerds who crave exclusivity more than they crave good music have made the pursuit of the next great secret thing more important than the discovery of a life-changing album. It’s to be expected; whenever there’s a little money or prestige to be had, there’s little that can stop people from trying to be the king.

[tags]hollywoodland, don cherry, oxford american, indie music, animal collective, indie music[/tags]

"Most people I've meet hardly seem like human beings to me anymore."

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A Remembrance Day parade just down Church street this afternoon.

.:.

It was a busy days, internets. We were up early, at Home Depot by 8:15 this morning, and back home painting by 9:00. Well…I wasn’t painting, but Nellie and GB were. I provided logistical support (fetching breakfast, moving furniture, etc.) as I am teh suck when it comes to painting. However, those two were very fast; they did two coats on the living room walls and one and a half coats (don’t ask) in the bedroom. The living room is now a very awesome gray. It looks great, and it feels great to have some color on the walls. Tomorrow we plan to actually put some art on the walls! Like we actually live here!

Tonight we relaxed (Nellie’s actually ready to pass out any minute now), ordered some Thai from the new place across the street (which was very good) and watched one of the movies we PVR’d during TMN‘s free preview weekend: Down In The Valley (imdb | rotten tomatoes). It was…weird. The first half is a standard fish out of water, girl falls for the weird loner, pseudo love story. The second half is a western/chase movie set in the San Fernando valley. Like I said…weird. I wouldn’t recommend it.

We started to watch two other movies from the free preview: Strangers With Candy (which we stopped watching after half an hour…maybe I missed something by never seeing the show but I just didn’t find it that funny) and Aeon Flux (I didn’t even want to record it, but Nellie likes dumb action movies sometimes. I couldn’t even watch it.). We also recorded Volver and Hollywoodland.

.:.

This book review in The New Republic makes my brain swim. It’s about Jack Goldsmith’s book detailing his time as assistant attorney general in the White House’s Office of Legal Counsel. The review covers the book itself, but also gives the reader a synopsis of what it must have been like for Goldsmith and others like him, given the unilateral way in which the Bush administration has operated.

Within a matter of days, Goldsmith learned that he was expected to kowtow to the White House’s legal demands…Battle after battle took place, with Goldsmith saying that the president was not at liberty to do this or that and the White House disagreeing. At one point Addington warned Goldsmith that “if you rule that way, the blood of the hundred thousand people who die in the next attack will be on your hands.” All of this made Goldsmith, an honest and learned man who did not like to see the Constitution traduced by ideology or power, more than despondent, and eventually he left the Department of Justice.

Frightening, since this office is set up to provide counsel to an executive branch struggling with some immense legal issues. It wasn’t long-lived though:

But alas, much of Goldsmith’s handiwork would soon be undone. After his departure, his more pliant successor, Steven Bradbury, gave the administration what it wanted. According to a recent New York Times story that could easily serve as an epilogue to Goldsmith’s book, the administration put Bradbury on a probationary period as acting head of OLC, refusing formally to nominate him until they had seen how he would rule in his acting capacity on a variety of issues.

The full review isn’t that long, and is well worth reading. I assume the book is too, if you want to understand what it feels like for a principled, rational man (who is no left wing lawyer, by the way) to find himself surrounded by ideologues.

[tags]remembrance day, home depot, painting, down in the valley, strangers with candy, aeon flux, jack goldsmith, new republic[/tags]

Don't judge me. It felt like hand-stitched butter.

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I needed to ease out of the work week and into the long weekend in tasty fashion last night, so we had some dinner and a couple of drinks at Volo with CBGB. A little veggie pasta, a Black Kat stout and a Mill Race and the unwinding was underway. We couldn’t muster much more energy than that, though, and with a busy weekend ahead of us we decided we’d better relax and catch up a TV backlog. And so we did.

This morning we got up and had breakfast at Eggstasy. Poor Nellie, she just can’t seem to get servers to understand the following:

The Toronto definition of eggs “over hard” does not equal the consistency to which she wants her eggs cooked, which is best described as “shoe leather.”

She asked for “fried, over really hard, nothing runny, no liquid whatsoever, completely cooked all the way through” and the server wrote down “over hard.” Of course, they came back all runny inside; she sent them back and when they returned they were still too runny. Now, granted, she’s very fussy about her eggs, but given the painstaking and blunt description she applies each and every time, I’d expect at least one cook in 10 to get it right. Sadly, it never, ever works. Anyway.

Our purpose today was shopping, so after a quick stop to look at some Herman Miller chairs (I want!) we went to Harry Rosen. I’ll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say when I left 90 minutes later picking up my credit card required oven mitts. It’s official…I have a weakness for two things: chocolate and nice clothes. I’m kind of worried; now that I’ve tried on a Canali suit I can’t go back. From this day on it’s a descent into Brioni territory, and that way lies madness. Anyway, it’s all stuff I needed (or at least wanted a lot) and I’m considering it an advance on my bonus. I hope.

We got home and ran a few more errands (finally getting a frame for the art we bought from a Parisien wine bar, picking up some wine & snacks, etc.) in preparation for tomorrow’s work. We figure it’s time to finish painting the joint, now that all the repairs are complete (hurrah!), and we’ve enlisted GB’s expertise to get us over the goal line. Wish us luck.

[tags]bar volo, eggstasy, herman miller, harry rosen, canali, brioni[/tags]

I'm not having it either

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

My brother sent me this article from a Manchester newspaper yesterday and I had to post it. I like to share stories that make me weep for humanity.

A lottery scratchcard has been withdrawn from sale by [national lottery operator] Camelot – because players couldn’t understand it. To qualify for a prize, users had to scratch away a window to reveal a temperature lower than the figure displayed on each card. As the game had a winter theme, the temperature was usually below freezing.

But the concept of comparing negative numbers proved too difficult for some Camelot received dozens of complaints on the first day from players who could not understand how, for example, -5 is higher than -6.

I can see why that could be complicated. Witness the lament from this poor confused soul:

“I phoned Camelot and they fobbed me off with some story that -6 is higher – not lower – than -8 but I’m not having it.”

Onward, vacuous soldier. Rage against that machine.

.:.

Tonight I was reminded of the reason (well…one reason) why I love my wife so much. I got home, expecting her to be there, but she hadn’t yet returned from the grocery store. She came home a few minutes later, crying. On her way home she’d found an injured pigeon on the street. She stopped to take care of it, got it out of harm’s way and into a box, called animal rescue and (along with a stranger) waited with it. She got home, dropped her bags and went out to the balcony to watch for the rescue van to arrive, guiding them to the box on her cell phone.

The pigeon might not make it, but she stopped and cared for it when no one else would. Pretty hard to not love her for that.

[tags]cool cash scratchcard, camelot, why i love my wife[/tags]