I ate a boy sandwich



Shaved turkey, pickles and mustard on brown – that’s a boy sandwich.

Tomato, lettuce and swiss cheese on brown – that’s a girl sandwich.

Anything mustardy, dilly, beefy, saurkrauty, horseradishy, peppery, BBQy, sloppy joey or meatbally are for boy sandwiches.

Anything cheesy, tomatoey, eggy, grilled chickeny, avocadoey, leafy greeny, sprouty or eggplanty are for girl sandwiches.

Anybody know the rules, can I still be a feminist and think this way?

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Blair switch project reminds me of camillagate…



We all know by now that Prince Charles postponed his wedding to Camilla to accomodate the Pope’s funeral this Friday. Who forced the switch, who can say for sure, “but there was an audible sigh of relief within Whitehall at the postponement – avoiding an embarrassing clash for Tony Blair and allowing him to attend both the Pope’s funeral and the royal wedding,” quoted from today’s New Zealand Herald.

Considering Charles’ media dealings of late (who can forget last week’s muttering “I can’t bear that man” – caught on tape of course) and the setbacks his wedding has faced from the get-go (venue changes, media leaks) – he must be illustriously pissed.

I’ve been thinking about his woes and had a distastefully delightful thought. Let’s twist the metaphysical knife: imagine if the Pope himself were to be awarded Charles’ secret wish to be the lucky buck reincarnated as Camilla’s tampon!?

“Oh, what a wonderful idea,” she says.

If you’d like to know more about the future King’s secret desires, take a moment to become familiar with Camillagate.

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What do lesbians do?



Is it offensive to discuss your dead grandfather’s views on lesbians with strangers?

Let me put it in reverse for a sec. Last night I went to see Sin City with the huzbond and some good friends. We had a great time and ended up boozing at the Bishop and Belcher well into the night.

Sin City is great, btw. Leave your politics at the door and enjoy the slick sights and silly dialogue. Damn, Clive Owen is fine. But Mickey Rourke, you break my heart! Remember when he was sexy? That smirk, those eyes. And these days? In 2003 the Guardian said it best, “he now looks like raw beef shaped into human form, dripping and pink”. Christ, it’s even more true today.
[…]

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Why am I surprised??!



Seinfeld did it shamelessly. You see it in movies and on television all the time. Even my favourite bands are hustling cars as I write this. Everyone is joining the product placement game or licensing their work to big business, so it seems… and I think it sucks.

It’s not about the dreaded 90s cliché of selling out. Really. It’s one thing to create a piece of art for its own sake to then find there’s commercial interest; think Flaming Lips. But it’s quite another to be “commissioned” by a fast food joint to create a hit song featuring a burger. Or to remake a classic movie to sell hot little cars (think The Italian Job). It really stinks.

Am I naive? From today’s Globe and Mail, Ronald McDonald recruits a new posse

Radio, other than the CBC and a handful of online stations, is already impossible to listen to given how many obnoxious ads we’re subjected to in a given hour. Now we’re being asked to accept direct advertising in songs too? Will radio stations accept this? Is this just a clever way to circumvent paying for allotted ad space?

Author Jim Munroe is much more elegant in discussing the subject: “There’s lots of good reasons for corporate brands to appear in art. Realism, for instance — they’re a part of the world, like it or not, and no-name products can be jarring. But product placement is like inviting someone to a party just because they have a car — on the surface, everyone wins, since the driver gets to go to a party, and no one has to pay for a taxi. But it casts an insincere light over the whole affair.”

One of his books, Everyone In Silico, imagines a future landscape that’s even more commercial than our own today.

Munroe says, “I felt silly about giving companies free advertising, so I invoiced ten of them for product placement. I got a few responses (though none with enclosed cheques) so once the invoices were past due, I wrote follow-up letters.”

Check out Munroe’s philosophy and letter writing campaign. It’s genius.

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Your future wife



wife.jpg

Recently I went to an old paper show and sale at the CBC and I came across a set of penny arcade cards from the 1930s. The novelty “horrorscopes” foretold life with your future mate.

I’m in love with the cards, they’re silly and so funny. I just have to build some sort of online penny arcade to house them.

A goal for this year perhaps? In the meantime, I’ll post one periodically for your reading pleasure.

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