Silver Elvis, that is…

The expert designing the masks for our school show is none other than Peter Jarvis. You may know him as the silver Elvis statue entertaining kids of all ages outside The Toronto Eaton Centre. You might also recognize him as ringleader of The Subtonic Monks.

Either way he’s a true Renaissance Man, and provides a shining example for 40 year-old artists everywhere… Literally!

Thursday – Call for Volunteers – Free Computer!

In the very near future, Toronto Free-Net will be making available very low cost computers packaged with TFN Internet connections and pre-configured for dial-up with a commercial version of Xandros.com Linux.

We have a lot of computers!

We need some volunteers to help to prepare to move about 20 heavy skids of computers, currently stored near Laird and Eglinton (central northeast Toronto.) If you are interested, we will need you from 9:30 am to 2pm on Thursday, Oct 19th. Lunch and transit tickets will be supplied.

Once we have these computers refurbished, each volunteer will receive one.

To volunteer, please apply by emailing execdir@torfree.net using the same subject as this message, stating any relevant experience.

Ken McCracken

Executive Director

Toronto Free-Net

(Disclaimer: The material that follows is bit more personal than my usual dreck, but that’s really why you’re here isn’t it? Anyway, rest assured I am most certainly not curled up in a fetal position in a corner somewhere… I’m fine, really, and thanks for asking!)

Way back in high school I read a fantastic novel called Sister Carrie, and was a bit surprised to hear in a classmate’s book report that its author had led a pretty miserable existence.

Now me, I’ve had a pretty damn good run, both personally and professionally. And yet it seems that personal drama has repeatedly reared its ugly head along with milestones in my career.

Consider that I apparently did my best, Dora-nominated work at The Second City while recovering from a bit of a broken heart. And just today I’ve been offered the director’s chair of their National Touring Company in the midst of my girlfriend of three years walking out on me.

Like I said, I’m not looking for pity here. Rather, I look to the long, not-so-proud lineage of brilliant comedians—and artists for that matter—who’ve ended up dead of a drug overdose in their underwear on some hotel bathroom floor. Not to suggest, of course, that I think of myself as the former or will end up like the latter!

Yet I wonder… Is there some inverse and perverse ratio between personal happiness and artistic success? Or am I just making a big deal out of a coincidence? Come on you showbiz-types, here’s your chance to dish!

This is one of those times, witness if you will, the wrath of Mrs. Tim Tomecko: Click right here, then scroll down below my original post to see her comment. I promise you won’t be disappointed!

Let’s face it, you’re going to be innundated by all things 9/11 today, so I’m only going to second Ed Miller‘s recommendation of United 93, now available on DVD.

Despite some ongoing complaints about the characterization of a German passenger on board the flight, the film managed to do what World Trade Center and Flight 93 couldn’t—not suck.

For the last act of the film I actually felt like I was on board that fateful flight.

Wow.

As someone who’s hopefully going to spend about 30 hours in the air during the next couple of weeks, I guess I should be thankful that the latest terror plot was foiled. But the resulting mayhem that I’ve been watching on TV all evening has instead prompted this quick reality check.

Here’s what we’ve given up since 9/11:

1. All kinds of personal freedoms, like the right to an untapped phone conversation, for example.
2. The ability to not be treated like a criminal when boarding a plane, or getting off of one.
3. Any kind of respect or even tolerance of Muslim culture and people, the vast majority of whom are actually not members of Al-Quaeda.

And here, best as I can tell, is what we’ve gained:

1. Oil that we’re paying through the nose for in money and blood.
2. Some very questionable ethics in the treatment of our accused enemies.
3. The “privilege” of having our soldiers blown up in faraway places.

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me like we’re getting our asses kicked here!

(Photo courtesy of Flickr user ”hugovk”…)

So I was all ready to write up a helpful guide to getting a tourist Visa for China, or perhaps ruminate a bit on the moral dilemma of crossing the Falun Gong picketers in front of the Chinese Consulate… Instead, while my blood is still boiling, I’m going to rant a bit on the subject of lining up. As a warning, some strong language may follow.

Let me begin by saying holy fuck are there ever a lot of utterly fucking clueless people on this Earth!!!

Ah, that’s better…

Now here’s the deal: Lining up, Queuing, whatever you want to call it, is actually pretty easy. All you really have to do is wait your turn, then when it is your turn, do what you need to do then get out of the way for everyone else. And yet, during my visit to the Consulate I saw firsthand that these simple concepts are clearly beyond the realm of comprehension for many people. For example:

• To the airhead Co-Ed going over to China to teach English, do you really think the poor guy at the counter wants to hear your incredibly uninteresting life story, and how exactly is your journey to self-discovery or however you want to label the fact that you’re fresh out of university and too chicken-shit to hunker down and get a real job in any way different from all the other people your age going to the Asia for exactly the same reasons and to do exactly the same thing as you?
• To the guy behind me with the old-man stink, just because your pores dried up after you went through man-o-pause doesn’t excuse you from some basic personal hygiene now and again, particularly if you’re going to be in the company of other human beings.
• To the woman who couldn’t take anything at face value, there’s a reason the lady behind the glass rolled her eyes when you asked her if this was the line to hand in your Tourist Visa application. Had you looked at the glass above her head you would have seen a rather large sign with the message: “Yes, this is where you hand in your Tourist Visa Application… You Asshat”. Here’s a handy tip: Instead of using your time in line on your cell phone telling the person on the other end how big the line up is, you can prepare ahead of time for the eventuality of handing in your documents at the window—that way you won’t have to empty the contents of your purse onto the counter to find everything when you get there, and the rest of us won’t have to pick up your spare change and keys for you.

Now before you start thinking that I’m entirely above the law, I freely acknowledge that I was guilty of my own line up indiscretion… To everyone behind me, I sincerely apologize for constantly turning around to look at the clock on the wall behind you. I have left my cell phone in the car, thinking it might be confiscated if I brought it in, as is the case down at the U.S. Consulate. I was probably also guilty of an inordinate share of sighing and groaning, partly because I had a dentist appointment to get to, but mostly because the majority of you in line with me were so fucking retarded.

You can have your Daily Show and Colbert Report… What makes me laugh is stupid crap like this.

Who knew that the animal kingdom also has its share of jerks?

Me: “Excuse me, I think I was here before you.”

Woman: “I don’t think so, but all right.”

Me: “I’d be happy to argue about it if you want.”

Woman: “Clearly I don’t.”

Me: “Good.”

BTW, we were both lined up in front of an ice cream truck, the hilarity of which is only now becoming apparent to me…

One of the few regrets from my trip to Tokyo last winter was that I didn’t pick up a souvenir keitai strap of Docomodake, the freaky mushroom-like mascot of NTT DoCoMo. But thanks to an extremely kind gesture by fellow blogger Roy I now have one in my possession, pictured here dangling from my trusty hiptop2.

It’s perhaps a bit large for everyday use, but you know I’m going to have it with me on my next trip to the Far East—speaking of which…