Archive for June, 2009
I Desire Poutine
It comes as no surprise that people are passionate about poutine since it’s so friggin’ delicious. But what kind of weirdo passion culminates on a chowhound message board debate (in which there are many participants) with the comment, “its not a switch between signifier and signified, but rather the signifier by no means signifies that ‘poutine’ you have?”
I know, right? Wtf? Is this guy serious or what? But then, the debate kicks off with the controversial opinion that “Swiss Chalet pretty much has the best poutine in the GTA now.” These are crazy people! They love food so much that they don’t love anything else. They don’t even love class. They are such food elitists that they’ll choose food over elitism.
All this got me thinking that Swiss Chalet probably makes one tasty mess. You have to be mighty confident to send anyone from chowhound to Swiss Chalet, so that guy must know what he’s talking about. How can I argue with someone risking their foodie reputation to connect me to a good poutine? Furthermore, how can I argue with a food message board that cites semiotics?
It reminds me of Bob Dylan.
Last week I was thinking about desire, and how interesting an idea it is. I thought I would love to write a series of poems about desire and call it “Desire,” but that would be really lame. There is no way I could ever do this thing and live with myself. But Bob Dylan totally did it. He called a whole album Desire, and didn’t even bother to keep it a secret. As it turns out, this worked in his favour because some called it a kick ass album and, you know, it sold.
Bob Dylan’s Desire is that guy’s Swiss Chalet Poutine. Oh, it sold all right. People probably heard the name of the album and assumed serious business was afoot. He’d never risk sounding lame for an album unless it was profound, right?
Scandals are Sexy
The truly unfortunate thing about Raitt-gate is, I’m not skipping over stories about the isotope shortage anymore.
Ironically, the sexy scandal and subsequent resignation-demanding hysteria has brought more attention and urgency to the issue than a scandal-free parliament ever could. I suddenly find myself concerned about medical isotopes. And this is new. To top things off, Raitt’s emotional apology and revelation that her father and brother died (young) from cancer is enough to clinch any casual observer’s attention for the long haul. The family history is really awful and sad, but this whole thing is totally bizarre. I feel like I’m watching a well- structured Hollywood film.
I suppose one should call the drama around this politicized issue regrettable, but I imagine it’s going to result in action. Since it involves secret tapes and name calling, everyone’s watching and concerned. Somebody’s got to do something and it’s probably going to be Lisa Raitt. This is not the time to accept her resignation! I imagine she’s feeling quite motivated these days.
Say what you will about political drama being childish, but it can make a critical mass when you need one.
Morning Routine (Spoiler Alert!)
I’m no serial killer, but I think that Dexter and I want a lot of the same things: lots of meat, a really clean house, quality coffee and a fantastic body. Most of all, we both want a great breakfast, every single morning.
There is a lot of breakfast in Dexter. It’s practically a show about breakfast. Dexter is constantly buying boxes of donuts for his colleagues. Rita’s kids ask for pancakes twice an episode. Power dynamics between Rita and Paul and Dexter centre around who is making breakfast for the children. Coffee is always present and talked about. And obviously, there is the opening credits: Dexter-preparing breakfast to an offbeat. I never get sick of it because I never get sick of breakfast.
This morning I spend my breakfast/coffee time poring over political news, namely Raittgate part two: Cancer is sexy. This is the kind of story that makes me glad to be me. I am so happy I am not Lisa Raitt right now that it’s practically a new lease on life. One of the worst days in my memory is the morning after I made a risky joke and it did not go well. I kept wishing I were somebody else. Being the victim of your own poorly chosen words or actions is the worst thing ever.
People are always getting out of bad situations and then saying, “the best part about this being over is waking up in the morning and making myself a cup of coffee.” This is an especially popular sentiment when people have just been released from prison. Breakfast is a major theme in Dexter, because Dexter is constantly getting out of prison, in the sense that’s he’s constantly avoiding it. The entire series culminates at the end of season two when he narrowly avoids getting caught and imprisoned, wakes up the next morning, makes breakfast (in a sequence of shots almost identical to the opening) and says, “this is way better than prison… I can make some French press.”
Do I like Dexter because I like breakfast? Or do I like breakfast because I like Dexter, and everything he represents? This show makes me enjoy my own breakfast just a bit more than I usually do. I am so glad I am not an imprisoned serial killer. And years after my bad joke, I still wake up in the morning thankful that I haven’t said any thing distasteful recently. E.g. Cancer is sexy.
Madness
I’ve heard it said that question period is useless because no one ever answers the damn question. I’ve also heard people speak to the troubling lack of decorum (which they blame for, among other things, the apparent female aversion to the political arena). These are legitimate concerns raised by intelligent, respectable people, but I just can’t share them.
I love question period, truly. Mere mention of it makes me giddy, which is embarrassing. I have to stifle myself whenever people around me begin to talk about QP (which doesn’t happen nearly enough). Someone will speak to the childishness of our politicians and I have to decide, quickly, if I know that person well enough to tell them I actually enjoy the spectacle of QP. I don’t want acquaintances going around thinking I’ve got a problem with decorum.
On Friday, Paul Wells wrote an article called Stop the Madness, in which he outlined the problems with question period and made some suggestions about how to fix it. He suggests MPs be allowed to speak for ten seconds longer so they’re less panicky about making their point. He also suggests holding QP at 10am instead of 2pm so that everyone’s not distracted all day thinking about it. His ideas strike me as mighty fine. QP isn’t perfect and I’m sure it can be improved. But as I read his reasons for why QP is bad, I began to feel a confusing patriotism.
“They bray like jackasses,” he writes.
“It is meticulously planned and rehearsed by hundreds of politicians and their staffers across the parliamentary precinct. They rise before dawn to pore over the headlines and plot the day’s stratagems. Opposition members start bidding at breakfast for a part in the show. Government members meet over lunch to rehearse their evasions and their outrage.”
Seriously, they rise before dawn to pore over headlines and strategize? Good Lord! That is awesome!
If anything can offer insight into how I can love question period while others blame it for political ill, it is this here paragraph. How can anything that gets politicians up and reading before dawn be a bad thing? Some dedicated countrymen right there! Can’t we leave QP the way it is and just tack on a second one? We’ll have one QP with decorum, and one QP with enthusiasm and early morning stratagem.
