When I was going to Ryerson in the 90s, I had a crazy, brilliant sociology professor named Murray Pomerance. Murray was often seen sporting some amusing guinea pig hair, imagine a variety of mohawk or forward-pointing ducktail. In my mind, the hair was because he seldom slept and when he did, it was in his office from 5-7:55am.
If it weren’t for Murray I’d have probably been sucked into the vortex of mass media’s thoughtless reporting and tireless quest to be first with the scoop (so instead of media it’s the maddening major label music biz. LOL). To be fair to my influencers pre-Murray, I was already leaning to the investigative side of life but could have been easily led astray. Murray grounded me and really taught me that spouting off shit about McLuhan didn’t mean I was thinking, it actually meant I was being another vapid vehicle for other people’s expression. It was amazing when I recognised that I’d never really thought about anything critically and was just beginning to learn how to do so.
Murray was quite controversial and as his student, you either loved him or hated him, there was no in between.