Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Yesterday, as a member of the legion of Calgary-based geeks, I was made aware of an article published in the Calgary Herald entitled "It's comic how starstruck some people can be." Speaking on the colossally successful Calgary Comic & Entertainment Expo, the writer, Kevin Brooker, confesses that he is baffled by "how many fans appear anxious to meet their screen idols at events like this (dressed up in costumes, of course), even when it's a sub-Nimoy contingent like this one. What's the real draw? Seeing? Touching? Reading their scrawled names on your program?"
It almost goes without saying that this touched off a nerve in the Calgary Expo community, with numerous commenters turning out to shake their heads in admonishment at the perceived small-mindedness of Brooker and the banality of the article's tone and intent. Lindsay Thomas AKA Emily Expo, an Assistant Director of the Expo, wrote a fantastic defence of the Expo's merits, and I feel no strong need to add to the voices chiming in that it is a wonderful show that features world-class individuals and exhibits.
I actually think that we've all missed the real heart of Brooker's article. I know it's tempting to dismiss Brooker's stories about Gordie Howe and the Three Stooges as patronizing name-dropping (and given the pithy writing, I succumbed to that temptation almost immediately), but let's give him the benefit of the doubt for a moment. It's not that he doesn't "get" comics, movies, cartoons, and all the other fantastic things that are Expo mainstays. It's that he doesn't "get" the desire for people to meet their heroes.
Pointing to his own disappointing or mediocre experiences with Gordie Howe and the Three Stooges, Brooker can't help coming off as a bitter curmudgeon, lamenting "what a strange business is the show business." He speaks of these encounters in a sort of wistful, broken kind of way, admitting that he did not think this way at the time, though he does now. The implication, of course, is that with age comes wisdom, though in Brooker's case it seems more like that with age came complacency.
I say this because in my experience, a desire to meet the people who inspire us is anything but nonsensical. Asked point-blank what makes it so special, I doubt that most fans could articulate what it is that makes them so...fanatical. Pressed into a corner, most will answer with a vague sort of supposition that meeting their idols in person as opposed to seeing them on a TV screen makes it, in a word, "real." It's that monosyllabic answer that I think drives people like Brooker mad with envy and confusion. Yet it connotes all the information that you need to know.
This past Monday, I had the good fortune of attending a reading by Neil Gaiman. It was a massive event, attended by 1100 people, with tickets being snatched up within 60 seconds of becoming available. Gaiman read from five different pieces, spoke briefly on his personal experiences in writing, and did a short Q&A from a sheaf of prepared questions. There was no signing, no one-on-one interaction, not even a period where the audience directly asked questions of this great author. In a man like Brooker's view, we could very likely have achieved the same experience by staying home and reading Gaiman's works with the afterwords included.
In my view, I will never forget this experience.
How can I have such a romanticized view of what appears to be a distant, unemotionally involved event? It goes back to that one word answer: "real."
We want to meet our heroes because we want to see them made solid. What Brooker fails to get, and what anyone who has ever been inspired by another human being can tell you, is that seeing our heroes in pure, unfiltered normalcy is what truly shows us what we are capable of. I have no illusions that I am not the same man as Neil Gaiman. I know that our experiences in life are completely different. Yet in the moments when he stood on stage, I saw him as a person.
Then, it all becomes real. The unachievable becomes achievable. The fantastical becomes tangible. The impossible becomes possible. The dream becomes reality. It is crystalized. We are people, and some people can achieve great things.
We want to stand close to these individuals because we hope beyond all hope that just a measure of their seemingly limitless wonder will rub off on us, and then we're astonished to find that it has, but not in the way we thought. Rather, they've drawn out something from within us we never knew we had, but it was always there.
Brooker would call it comic. I would call it real.
It almost goes without saying that this touched off a nerve in the Calgary Expo community, with numerous commenters turning out to shake their heads in admonishment at the perceived small-mindedness of Brooker and the banality of the article's tone and intent. Lindsay Thomas AKA Emily Expo, an Assistant Director of the Expo, wrote a fantastic defence of the Expo's merits, and I feel no strong need to add to the voices chiming in that it is a wonderful show that features world-class individuals and exhibits.
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| Kay Pike Fashion via Compfight cc |
Pointing to his own disappointing or mediocre experiences with Gordie Howe and the Three Stooges, Brooker can't help coming off as a bitter curmudgeon, lamenting "what a strange business is the show business." He speaks of these encounters in a sort of wistful, broken kind of way, admitting that he did not think this way at the time, though he does now. The implication, of course, is that with age comes wisdom, though in Brooker's case it seems more like that with age came complacency.
I say this because in my experience, a desire to meet the people who inspire us is anything but nonsensical. Asked point-blank what makes it so special, I doubt that most fans could articulate what it is that makes them so...fanatical. Pressed into a corner, most will answer with a vague sort of supposition that meeting their idols in person as opposed to seeing them on a TV screen makes it, in a word, "real." It's that monosyllabic answer that I think drives people like Brooker mad with envy and confusion. Yet it connotes all the information that you need to know.
This past Monday, I had the good fortune of attending a reading by Neil Gaiman. It was a massive event, attended by 1100 people, with tickets being snatched up within 60 seconds of becoming available. Gaiman read from five different pieces, spoke briefly on his personal experiences in writing, and did a short Q&A from a sheaf of prepared questions. There was no signing, no one-on-one interaction, not even a period where the audience directly asked questions of this great author. In a man like Brooker's view, we could very likely have achieved the same experience by staying home and reading Gaiman's works with the afterwords included.
In my view, I will never forget this experience.
How can I have such a romanticized view of what appears to be a distant, unemotionally involved event? It goes back to that one word answer: "real."
We want to meet our heroes because we want to see them made solid. What Brooker fails to get, and what anyone who has ever been inspired by another human being can tell you, is that seeing our heroes in pure, unfiltered normalcy is what truly shows us what we are capable of. I have no illusions that I am not the same man as Neil Gaiman. I know that our experiences in life are completely different. Yet in the moments when he stood on stage, I saw him as a person.
Then, it all becomes real. The unachievable becomes achievable. The fantastical becomes tangible. The impossible becomes possible. The dream becomes reality. It is crystalized. We are people, and some people can achieve great things.
We want to stand close to these individuals because we hope beyond all hope that just a measure of their seemingly limitless wonder will rub off on us, and then we're astonished to find that it has, but not in the way we thought. Rather, they've drawn out something from within us we never knew we had, but it was always there.
Brooker would call it comic. I would call it real.
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| By Miami-Dade Police Department [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons |
And that joke, in the ongoing Ford Saga, is OLD. Think about that.
People with just a rudimentary interest in politics are at least aware of Rob Ford, even if only through a vague, nagging sense that something is terribly rotten in the state of Canada. Those with an interest in US comedy shows like The Daily Show or Jimmy Kimmel Live have a greater understanding that there is a crack-smoking, alcoholic, sexist, douchebag running one of the largest cities in North America.
What you might not have heard, and what continues to be a source of dismay for political commentators all across the spectrum, is that this asshole continues to have a "bedrock of support" that variably ranges in approval ratings of 30-40%.
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| Sebastiaan ter Burg via Compfight cc |
Or maybe the poll skewed on a day where a lot of people were hitchhiking?
There's been plenty written about the bizarre appeal of Rob Ford - supposed everyman, plain-spoken, simple message - but what hasn't been said nearly enough, or by many people, is that this is tremendous insult to Conservative voters everywhere.
Yes, you read that correctly. For all that people insist that Rob Ford was elected purely to spite a (largely invented) demographic of entitled, downtown, latte-swilling elitists, his image as a staunch conservative with spendthrift policies is, well, just an image. The most basic investigation of Ford's outlandish claims reveals what anyone with a functioning frontal cortex suspected: his achievements, if you can all them that, are dubious at best, and outright lies at worst.
None of this, claim the supporters, matters. What matters is that he's down there at Toronto City Hall, mixing it up, getting in there, rattling the cages. To what end? To the apparent end that taxes remain low, pennies are watched, and the purported flow of gravy - above all else, the gravy - is stopped.
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| Special*Dark via Compfight cc |
Why did he have to bring gravy into this? Gravy is delicious.
All of this to apparently satisfy the revenge fantasies of a large portion of a city that had felt ignored by a left-leaning administration that governed with a "tax and spend" ideology. This, they say, was the source of their grief. TAX. AND. SPEND.
My query, then, to this complaint, is simple: is this man seriously the best you could come up with?
No, I'm being serious here. The insinuation of Ford, and by and large, Ford supporters (and before we go thinking they're the same nebulous group of people that believe in Bigfoot, I have spoken to them and they do in fact exist and are not altogether insane), is that there is literally NO OTHER MAN IN TORONTO, NAY, IN ALL OF CANADA, capable of performing and implementing the fiscally responsible agenda so desired by the suburbs of the Greater Toronto Area.
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| By Shaun Merritt (Mayoral candidates Uploaded by Skeezix1000) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons |
For the record, the mayoral candidates of 2010
(and not, as you might have suspected, Toronto's very own Reservoir Dogs)
(and not, as you might have suspected, Toronto's very own Reservoir Dogs)
We know this is wrong. We know this is patently, provably, wrong, because there ARE people who run the city better than Rob Ford and maintain a fiscally responsible agenda. They are the councilors who voted in favour of his budget (even as he voted against it; hey, maybe he was high, all right?), and the city manager and staff who, obeying the direction of city council, slashed city budgets through service cuts and staff attrition. None of this was due to the mayor. The mayor was busy arriving late for work, campaigning for re-election, and - oh yeah - trying frantically to keep his criminal associations on the D/L while procuring drugs from the aforementioned criminal associates.
My point is this: there are literally thousands, if not millions of Canadians who share in Rob Ford's (conveniently adopted) fiscal agenda yet come with none of the hang-ups of crack use, lying, and general disregard for basic governing practices.
Why are his supporters so insistent on clinging to him?
I would speculate that they feel that abandoning him would be tantamount to admitting that there is something inherently wrong with being Conservative, that they made a horrendous mistake in appointing a well-known racist and vehicular murder enthusiast to the highest office in the city.
Let me tell you now: there are better ways.
One is already being demonstrated quite clearly in Alberta, as famously incompetent MP Rob Anders is facing open revolt from within his riding. Yes, the ghoulishly resurrected specter of former Conservative MLA and Minister of Health (and later Energy) Ron Liepert, like some avenging angel of the holy ghost of Ralph Klein, has arisen from his battered coffin to do battle with the man who once told the House of Commons that Thomas Mulcair 'hastened' the death of Jack Layton.
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| CC image via 5of7 on Flickr |
Yep. He's a real cowboy.
Anders, of course, has been quick to suggest that Liepert is not a "true" conservative. There we have the meat of it. The division of modern Conservatives has transformed into something ugly, something that conjures to mind eerie labels all too reminiscent of a certain fellow named Joseph McCarthy.
That's the real price of people like Rob Ford, and people like Rob Anders, a world where rhetoric trumps substance, where ideas are shunted aside in favour of sound bites (although a lesser consequence would be an abundance of idiots named Rob).
My suggestion to those people who sincerely desire conservative governance is simple: find the best of you, and support those people. Believe it or not, there are tools in place to give you the power to oust the incompetent and replace them with the capable. Liepert's challenge is one. The upcoming Reform Act could be another.
Remain with the loudest, most obnoxious voice at your own peril. Keep telling us that this is how conservatives like to be represented, and something truly awful might happen.
We might start believing you.
Dear Execrable Douchemongers,
What is your problem? I can only assume you enjoy wasting your time and money, because there is no other logical explanation for the incessant chorus of chatter, snack-munching, coat wringing, and mime-whacking going on in the seating area.
Maybe you thought the show was crap. Maybe you were confused, and needed a couple of minutes of lip-flapping to get your mighty brain up to speeds reaching or even exceeding three. Or maybe you were even really excited and wanted everyone to know right then because why wait for the appointed time when people usually applaud when you can communicate your unbelievable joy in the middle of a performance.
Whatever the reason, here's my counterpoint. My thesis, if you will.
SHUT. UP.
What is your problem? I can only assume you enjoy wasting your time and money, because there is no other logical explanation for the incessant chorus of chatter, snack-munching, coat wringing, and mime-whacking going on in the seating area.
Maybe you thought the show was crap. Maybe you were confused, and needed a couple of minutes of lip-flapping to get your mighty brain up to speeds reaching or even exceeding three. Or maybe you were even really excited and wanted everyone to know right then because why wait for the appointed time when people usually applaud when you can communicate your unbelievable joy in the middle of a performance.
Whatever the reason, here's my counterpoint. My thesis, if you will.
SHUT. UP.
Time for the obligatory controversial post.
Men of the world, can I talk to you for a minute?
What the fuck is your (our) problem?
You piss on the toilet seat. You smell bad, grow hair all over, commit literally 10 times as many violent crimes as women, and yet somehow you still run the whole frakking world.
What the hell, man (men)? And I'm not going to beat around the bush and say "you used to be cool". No, you were never cool. Not a lot's changed.
But it seemed like maybe we were getting somewhere. Curbing the worst of our excesses. Really trying to genuinely make way for the better halves of the world, though only after they had to kick us in the nuts with people like Nellie McClung.
So why is it that I'm hearing men clamouring all over my country, dear, sweet, forward-thinking Canada, MEN...you ASSHOLES...bringing up abortion?
Men of the world, can I talk to you for a minute?
What the fuck is your (our) problem?
You piss on the toilet seat. You smell bad, grow hair all over, commit literally 10 times as many violent crimes as women, and yet somehow you still run the whole frakking world.
What the hell, man (men)? And I'm not going to beat around the bush and say "you used to be cool". No, you were never cool. Not a lot's changed.
But it seemed like maybe we were getting somewhere. Curbing the worst of our excesses. Really trying to genuinely make way for the better halves of the world, though only after they had to kick us in the nuts with people like Nellie McClung.
So why is it that I'm hearing men clamouring all over my country, dear, sweet, forward-thinking Canada, MEN...you ASSHOLES...bringing up abortion?
Awwww shit. Here we go.
Photo by David Shankbone licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic
Photo by David Shankbone licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic