Steven Galloway: outside of Canada, nobody cares

BLOGGER'S LAMENT.  I am absolutely exhausted. Just wiped out. I've been - somehow - don't know how - didn't want to do it, didn't want to do it - caught up in the Steven Galloway "affaire".

What's that, you ask? Who he? Outside of Canada, nobody cares. Steven Galloway is a former professor of Creative Writing at UBC (University of British Columbia, for my hordes of overseas fans). Professor Galloway had a habit of sexually assaulting female students, quite a number of them in fact, and some of them were beginning to actually complain about it. After an internal investigation, UBC dismissed him. 

But that is not the end, readers! The muck really begins here. In the past few days, 80 of Canada's creme de la creme/elite/"just plain old BEST" authors all lined up to sign an "open letter" to UBC protesting his dismissal. These Big 80, described in the press as "a Who's Who" of Canadian Literature, didn't think it was too gol-dern fair for The Professor to be held accountable for his actions - not to the point of actually losing his job! They insisted that a proper investigation be held to drag the situation out endlessly and allow Galloway to hire some crack lawyer who would blow down the (likely poor and marginalized) injured parties with one breath.

But the more people looked at this petition and the signatures under it, the more they smelled days'-old fish.

UBC is known as a sort of literary mill, a vast machine churning out new writers, who then, eventually, become Establishment: the new elite of CanLit. This is how the system renews itself: think of an immense, seething termite queen whose sole purpose is spewing out more termites.

If one unit of this family (and I use the term in a Sicilian sense) suffers in any way, the others must, according to their contract, rush to his/her aid. It is the termite way, and it is immutable.

The whole thing made me ill. To my mind, it was an extreme example of the wagons going in a circle, not to mention what Orwell might have called "wethink" (or, perhaps, "we-think"). A number of these CanLit muckety-mucks actually took their names OFF the "open" letter (which, to my mind, was about as closed a thing as I have ever seen), once they realized what it was they had actually signed.

Not to jest, because this has left me feeling like road kill. For the glittering Literatti will surely mass together when one of their own is under attack - while casually throwing a number of vulnerable, relatively powerless sexual assault survivors under the bus.

Or so it seems to me. 

Margaret Atwood, the Queen Bee or perhaps the Termite Queen of CanLit, wrote a letter of her own, which I won't reproduce here, but it's haughty. She tries to backtrack on her original statement, which compared Steven Galloway's dismissal to being burned at the stake in Salem. (Her references to a "witch hunt" strongly implied the students' claims were driven by hysterical delusion).

She has since made an effort to cover her literary ass, but it's a little late for that. Charmingly, she does remind us all that Galloway was "thrown in a mental hospital", which is apparently the worst fate which can befall a human being. The indignity of it - the horror, the shame - a Gulag Archipelago, UBC-style! It was all designed to cue the "He's Really The Victim" music.

If I jest about all this, it's so I won't cry. The whole thing exhausts me. Like Dorothy Parker, I only jest to keep from howling. (And please don't think I am comparing myself to her - I stopped drinking 26 years ago).

Margaret Atwood Follies: "gee, thanks, lady"

Margaret Atwood "can't write a novel," according to Norm Macdonald

(AARON VINCENT ELKAIM / THE CANADIAN PRESS)

By PETER EDWARDS Star Reporter

Fri., Nov. 18, 2016

After kicking off something of a one-way Canadian literary feud, comedian Norm Macdonald has deleted a series of Twitter rants in which he called author Margaret Atwood “a no-talent mountebank bent on fooling fools” and other insults.

Some of the tirade from Macdonald, a former Saturday Night Live star, came late Tuesday night and Thursday morning of this week, after Atwood tried to console Americans after the election of Donald Trump.

Atwood: “Just like the Wizard of Oz, Donald Trump has no magical power”

Macdonald: “You make a very good, if utterly obvious, point. So, you’re saying he DOESN’T have magical powers. Thanks.”

And then Atwood, a Toronto resident, tries again to console American readers with: “Dear Americans. It will be all right in the long run. (How long? We will see.) You’ve been through worse, remember.”

Macdonald replies: “Gee, thanks, lady.”

Atwood, winner of the prestigious Booker Prize for Literature, urges readers to take practical measures to help them cope with life under Trump, to which Macdonald adds: “How to SURVIVE in the era of Trump, lady? How about staying in your house with your money?”




Earlier, the 57-year-old Quebec City native observed, “Canadians have frauds and imposters just like everyone else. Most people in the arts are charlatans. One is @MargaretAtwood.” Macdonald later deleted the Atwood run of tweets (though they remain on his Facebook page), as he has done in the past with stories about meeting Bob Dylan, helping to write the SNL 40th anniversary special and more.

The comedian has a well-received book of his own currently out, Based on a True Story: A Memoir. Despite the title, Macdonald has described it, on Twitter and elsewhere, as a novel.

The shots he took online at Atwood went beyond her advice on life in a Trump America.

When Atwood sends a reader a handwritten quote from her novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, Macdonald jumps in and posts: “Oh, bad writing scribbled on a piece of paper. Well, who wouldn’t want that?”

Atwood has 1.32 million Twitter followers while Macdonald has 768,000.





Several of her fans jumped in to defend her. One posts: “as if I don’t have enough to deal with Norm hates Margret (sic) Atwood??”

Macdonald replies: “I don’t hate @MargaretAtwood. I hate bad writing.”

He then adds: “It isn’t her fault and I’d never have anything but pity for the talentless. But the Canadian school system makes you read her.”

One Atwood defender tries for some sort of anti-Trump solidarity but Macdonald has none of that.

“@normmacdonald In an authoritarian regime, the most important thing is whether you are ‘one of them’ or ‘one of us,’ ” he tweets.

“no,” Macdonald replies.





Macdonald accuses Atwood of “chasing celebrity and promoting anything for a buck” and compares her unfavourably to Canada’s Nobel Prize-winning Alice Munro.

“It is nauseating to consider that through shameless self-promotion someone like @MargaretAtwood could care consider herself Munro’s peer,” Macdonalds writes.

“Unlike Munro, @MargaretAtwood is incapable of writing a novel, yet churns out chum at an alarming rate,” Macdonald continues.

“Munro is the greatest writer Canada has ever produced but feels herself incapable of writing a novel. On the flip side sits @MargaretAtwood,” Macdonald continues.

Atwood, 77 ,did not respond to the Star’s request for comment.





https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/2016/11/18/norm-macdonald-deletes-anti-atwood-tweets.html

Are we still friends?

Whack jobs: or, why we still can't deal with mental illness

I’ve been having some thoughts lately, mostly triggered by some recent events in the news. It’s about people’s language around mental illness. I have just a bit of trouble with names like loony, whack job, etc. being casually tossed around to label someone who is in psychiatric pain. I hear this every day of my life, and it dismays me. We often talk about “the other”, and I can’t think of a worse example of ostracism for something that is not the person’s fault.

But I am also struggling with the fact that people still sometimes use terms like “committed”,“ arrested” and “incarcerated” when referring to someone who is in so much pain that they are a danger to themselves and, perhaps, those around them. 

Being in hospital because you’re suffering to that degree is not like being dragged off to jail. Even if a person is “committed” (which I didn’t think existed any more), they can sign themselves out after 24 hours. They are not in leg irons. They are not being unfairly labelled “crazy” for their personal beliefs and left on some archipelago with the rest of the raving loonies. This perception is a “snake pit” mentality that harks back to One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. 

Sometimes people’s judgement is seriously “off”. What is the alternative for someone who has just said that he is going to kill himself? Just leave him there, send him home? If he were bleeding to death or had a heart attack or was in some other kind of life-threatening danger, I am sure he would be rushed to treatment. Why can’t we see suicide threats the same way? I think it’s because people are expected to just get it together on their own. Shape up. To accept help is to take on a stigma that might, perish the thought, hurt one’s career or standing in the community. (“You know what happened to him, don’t you?”) Some people, believe it or not, would rather die.

Why is a suicidal emergency so different? Because, I believe, we still look at mental illness with horror, paranoia and dread. Misinformation and ignorance is rampant. I’ve never heard of anyone being dragged off to the snake pit against his/her will, and it is extremely hard to get into the average psychiatric facility because there are never any beds (which should tell people something, but there’s an uncomfortable silence around it).

I watched an old TV show the other day, one of those black-and-white dramas, in which a husband and wife were accusing each other of being crazy. The term “put away” was used at least fifteen times. “Put away” is something you use to describe storing cups in a cupboard. But it also implies that you are “done”, that you will never live in the “real” world again. We don’t use this term any more – or at least, not often. But “incarcerated” is almost as damning.

The situation I’m writing about – and I’m sorry I can’t be more explicit, but I am not prepared to do that – seemed to trigger language that was, to say the least, dated, but also fraught with – what? Rage seemed to be uppermost, but I can’t tell for sure because I don’t personally know the people involved.

The first time I heard the term homophobic, I was very confused. Phobic means – fearful. Why would people be fearful of homosexuals? What did this have to do with their prejudice?

Everything. For fear comes of ignorance, and ignorance can be more willful than we want to know. I found this whole situation depressing because it also snagged into personal and professional hierarchies, elitism, and the unassailable power of the patriarchy, not to mention sweeping aside claims of sexual assault. (And where have I heard THAT one before?). 

We pay a lot of lip service to "reducing the stigma" (never eliminating it, as if that is just too gargantuan a task to even consider) and asking people to "reach out for help", neatly leaving it in THEIR hands when they may be too ill to reach out for anything. In cases like this, who will step up, who will be there to fill the void? In too many cases, no one, and the person decides life is too unbearable to continue with. Then it's "well, he just refused to reach out for help, so. . . "

I don’t know how much of this will be resolved (or even improved) in my lifetime. Looking at what has happened to women’s rights in the past few years, we might even go back to leg irons and snake pits. But for God’s sake, people, watch your language! Real human beings are involved. Equating a psychiatric facility with a prison implies some kind of crime, and there is no crime. The gulag is not part of anybody’s reality now.

in·car·cer·ate

inˈkärsəˌrāt/

1. imprison, put in prison, send to prison, jail, lock up, put under lock and key, put away, intern, confine, detain, hold, immure, put in chains, hold prisoner, hold captive; informal put behind bars
   

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New Girl in School: an illustrated guide

The New Girl in School

Papa do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ron-de, oo

I got it bad for the new girl in school, 

The guys are flipping, but I'm playing it cool.

Everybody's passing notes in class, 

They really dig her now she's such a gas.

Pappa, pappa, pappa, do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ron-de

Do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ron-de, oo

I got a fad, pappa do ron-de ron-de, oo.

The chicks are jealous of the new girl in school.

They put her down and they treat her so cruel.

But the guys are going out of their minds

Cause she's the cutest chick you'll ever find.

A pa pa pa pa do ronde ronde, do ronde ronde, do ronde ronde 

Do ronde ronde, do ronde ronde ooo, I've got a fad for the 

Do ronde ronde ooo 

Papa do ronde ronde, do ronde ronde, do ronde ronde ooo

It won't be long till were having a ball, 

We'll walk n talk n we'll hold hands in the hall.

Never thought I'd make it through this year, 

Sure was a drag till she transferred here.

Pappa, pappa, pappa, do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ronde

Do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ron-de, do ron-de ron-de, oo.

I got a fad, pappa, pappa, do ron-de ron-de, oo.

Little girl if you want me to... 

I got a lot going

Little girl if you want me to... 

I got it bad, pappa, do ron-de ron-de.

Pets Who Hate Donald Trump

It might be food: Weight Watchers recipe cards, 1974

Harold Lloyd: those long ocean voyages

Harold Lloyd: fists of fury

Harold Lloyd Goes Psycho!

I've rescored some of my favorite Harold Lloyd scenes with "unusual" music. This one makes your hair stand on end.

Gecko dance!

Happy dog slides on ice!

CATFIGHT! Girl fights in romance comics

I may have actually bought some of these, or one, back in the '60s, but only so my brother Arthur and I could make terrible fun of them. It wasn't hard to do. Never mind the sociological significance of these things. They're FUN, and that's all I care about at this point! The "catfight" scenes could not be cropped exactly to match the others (perfect squares), so I had to fiddle around with them a bit on white backgrounds, but it was worth it, they are just SO cool. The "jailbird" one is a favorite, as are the "nurse" specialties (nurses being especially hot). One thing I didn't realize - and this is illustrated in a couple of the pictures - some of these comics were done in duplicate for two different markets: white and black. It's eerie to see the exact same backgrounds, clothing, captions, etc., but with women of different races. 

Those issues are, of course, completely settled in 2016. Aren't they? We honestly thought we had fixed it once and for all, and things would only get better. NEVER did I EVER hear so much about racial hatred and violence and murder and strife back then, during the height of civil rights fever. It's worse now, much worse. This is but one of the things I must contemplate as I keep on chugging and blogging. As W. H. Auden put it: "Life remains a blessing/although you cannot bless."

Banana extravaganza!

"What could possibly go wrong?": Inventions from the nasty past

Call these "un-ventions". Things the inventor should have thought twice about. Things that might even be hazardous to your health and wellness (and wellbeing and stuff).

How many of these all-purpose-douche-and-enema machines did they sell, anyway? And you could wash the dog with it, too. Come to think of it, that's not such a bad deal. But boy would you ever need to clean the contraption between uses.

Hmmmmmm. That "word of warning" tells the whole story here, as does the "dual purpose" bit. I think these things are designed for ease of access, and I don't mean for taking a tinkle. And do you know what, I would NOT want to get caught in my zipper while wearing one of these.

This thing, this evil metal nose clamp, is supposed to prevent pain from hay fever, "catarrh", etc.? What the fuck IS catarrh? Is this something the human race used to get, but just doesn't get any more, or does it just no longer exist? Perhaps, like quinsy, lumbago and grippe, it simply went out of style. But hey. . . maybe that means that this contraption actually worked!

I'll try not to comment on the name of the inventor.

This is another evil thing you stuck on your face. I don't think this cured catarrh, or cat-gut-guitar or whatever, just "analyzed facial flaws" - and if the contraption is any indication, this poor woman is ALL flaws. The guy is obviously a sadist: this thing has 325 screws in it that can be tightened any way he wants.

A related issue is the Toilet Mask or (even more sinister-sounding) "face glove". I can't help but be reminded of This Is Spinal Tap's album, Smell the Glove. They still sell things that look sort of like this, things that strap on to a woman's face and make her look like Hannibal Lecter.

Hey, it's a new kind of hat, all right. A fake hat. A charlatan hat. A faux hat. A phony hat. A hat-that-doesn't-really-grow-hair. But if it didn't work, you could get a job as a chef in a robot factory.

I looked at this ad with great puzzlement, trying to figure out just what they meant by diseases of the head: mental illness, perhaps? Or was the inventor of the device perhaps thus afflicted? Then I read the description, and there it is. . . CATARRH! So catarrh, we've finally deduced, is a disease of the head. But you've got to get one of these to cure it, and unfortunately they stopped making them in 1932.

This is one of those marvelous Victorian orgasm-machines that I wish they still made. It beat the hell out of having your doctor shove his hand up your skirt, a common therapeutic treatment of the day. The ad even mentions hysteria, a catch-all term which basically meant "horny" (thus the need for one's doctor to feel one up and produce "paroxysm"). I think I'd rather have my paroxysms on a real horse, but if you don't have the space or the oats and hay, this might just do the trick. Whatever that is.

I don't understand this thing - looks like he has some sort of beehive on his head, or an underwater device, except that it's made out of felt. I've seen fabric cocoons that you can wrap around yourself, but this - is that a fire extinguisher or an oxygen tank sitting beside him? What are all those gizmos and egg-slicer thingies on his desk? I don't know if I want to get too deeply involved.

And your hair would smell just great!

This has the largest cringe-factor - no, wait. That one is coming next. But when you see the little naked baby under a sun lamp, you just die a little bit inside. If you want your kid to Stay Brown Th' Year Round, this is the way to go - until Child Protection finds out about it.

And I am truly sorry for this one, but I had to include it for the sake of historical accuracy. A long, long time ago I posted instructions for prostate massage, not because I was interested but because it read like a translation of a translation of some indecipherable foreign language (I won't say "tongue"), and thus was rendered virtually incomprehensible. This thing gives a whole new meaning to one of my favorite expressions, "Sit on this and rotate". It is obviously a dildo, one which needs to be well-lubricated for use: "Note especially those little vent holes in the nozzle through which the unguent inserted in the chamber below may be forced out by turning the knurled cap."

I cannot say another word about this.

Harold Lloyd: Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra

Somehow the bleakness of Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra expresses Harold's grief at being mocked at the big dance better than anything. I mean, his pants fell apart and all. This is HL's low point in The Freshman, and I will say it was fiendishly hard to get the film and music to synchronize.

Harold Lloyd: Ride of the Valkyries

Another of my incongruous attempts to glom classical music onto scenes from Harold Lloyd. It almost works, in this case. This is the race to the church from Girl Shy set to Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries.

Harold Lloyd: The Rite of Spring

Experimental filmmaking at its most wretchedly primitive. I got thinking: what if I rescored some of the great moments from Harold Lloyd's movies with great moments from classical music? The result, bizarre as it is, was captured on film (sort of). This is the fight scene from The Kid Brother set to Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring.

Atheist minister: what the hell is up with Gretta Vosper?

So what do you call a minister who does not  believe in God, the Bible, Jesus, the sacraments, or any of the usual tenets and accoutrements of the Christian church?

Gretta Vosper.

I still can't find any information on whether the United Church of Canada "defrocked" this woman or not, but they should. She never should have been "frocked" to begin with, or at least allowed to practice atheism as a form of Christian ministry. If by chance she is allowed to continue, ordination in a larger sense will mean absolutely nothing.

Such is my view.

Why does it matter? I was a member of the United Church for years and years, a lay minister, and everything revolved around scripture, Jesus, the sacraments. Worship. God. Prayer. Silly us! Now we find the Church has "evolved" and none of that is necessary any more. But if you want to subtract holiness from the mix, why not just go Unitarian?

In this video I sit and ponder what they sing in church (if they call it church now): if not hymns, then maybe "hers"? Warning: my feelings, and my language, are a little strong towards the end.

Save the country! NOW!

Come on people, come on children

Come on down to the glory river

Gonna wash you up, and wash you down

Gonna lay the devil down, gonna lay that devil down.

Come on, people! Come on, children!

There's a king at the glory river

And the precious king, he loved the people to sing;

Babes in the blinkin' sun sang

"We Shall Overcome".

I got fury in my soul, fury's gonna take me to the glory goal

In my mind I can't study war no more.

Save the people, save the children, save the country now

Come on people, come on children

Come on down to the glory river

Gonna wash you up, and wash you down

Gonna lay the devil down, gonna lay that devil down.

Come on people! Sons and mothers

Keep the dream of the two young brothers

Gonna take that dream and ride that dove

We could build the dream with love, I know,

We could build the dream with love

We could build the dream with love I know,

We could build the dream with love,

We could build the dream with love, I know,

We could build the dream with love.

I got fury in my soul, fury's gonna take me to the glory goal

In my mind I can't study war no more.

Save the people

Save the children

Save the country

Save the country

Save the country

NOW!

The future anchor of CTV News?

My eldest granddaughter, Caitlin. I watched her get born, and now she's thirteen years old and sitting at the anchor's desk! No doubt her career aspirations will take many twists and turns - but she does look great up there.

Bob Dylan on Nobel Prize

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Chicken love

Bentley the cat walks out on me!

"Definitely difficult to process" - the disaster that is Donald Trump

"I understand Trump is a polarizing figure. I understand his rise to power (first-ever president without any political or military experience, just for starters) is odd, unusual, shocking, etc.

But that’s precisely why the ramifications need to be discussed among citizens in a cool, calm, compassionate manner. Take a cue from the concession speeches of Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama – I particularly liked Obama’s comment (I’m going to miss that guy) to the effect of “this was an intramural scrimmage … We are Americans first.”

You and your friend are Americans first. It can be hard, I think, particularly for Canadians to understand, but America is, at heart, I believe, a rebellious country, a country that began in rebellion – a punk country, if you will, and Donald Trump was a punk choice for president.

So it’s definitely difficult to process, but shouldn’t cause a rift between you and your friend. When one Oscar Wilde character says accusatorily to another “You always want to argue about things,” the other character says “That is exactly what things are made for.”

I’ve often felt the truth of that. And never more so than with Trump. Go ahead and argue about him until you’re blue in the face and the bottle of chardonnay is empty.

Just respect the fact not everyone will always have the same opinion as you. And never, ever let it get personal." - David Eddie, The Globe and Mail.

Blogger's note. I am seeing this sentiment (in this case, a Canadian's advice to an American friend) in various places, and keep thinking of that line in The Way We Were: "People ARE their principles." If that is so, I cannot stay friends with someone who "is" Donald Trump, or embraces his hateful ideology. 

Can I keep on my friend list (real or Facebook-ish) someone who fiercely supports a racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, misogynist, wall-building, and just plain stupid world leader, someone who (if American) maybe even voted for him and thinks the country made a brilliant choice?

Can I stand to hear ANY more of that hateful Hillary-bashing?

The truth is, no one seems capable of the kind of calm, dispassionate discussion over a bottle of wine that this guy is recommending. He seems to be asking for witty repartee, a la Oscar Wilde, while all around us corruption is sprouting and flourishing like a cancer. Not much protest or social change ever emanated from a drawing room, no matter how cutting the witticisms. 

Even us so-called civil Canadians are screaming at each other about the terror of Trump. Am I happy about that? Of course not. It makes me terribly sad. But what's the alternative? 

I can't help but see this man's advice to his American friend as a version of "yes, he's a Nazi, but he's your friend! Why not talk it over? Don't ever let it get personal." But if we remain dispassionate, keep our emotions out of this, let our convictions go to sleep or be overtaken by that "oh, come on, be nice" mentality, we are truly doomed. 

And minimizing the horror of Trump's win by saying he's a "punk" President is - just that. Minimizing. If people believe this is a realistic or healthy way to proceed, they are wrong.

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President Trump: are you ready for this?