Memories of Student Journalism

Patricia Rozema

On Friday I was interviewed by the University of Ottawa's student paper, The Fulcrum. The interviewer was a first year student, and I couldn't help but recall my own student journalism days, many many many years ago.

I was a writer for the University of Toronto student papers, The Varsity, The Gargoyle and The Newspaper. This was back in the late 1980s and early 90s, so there were no websites back then, and even email was a rarity. Many would type out their articles on typewriters! Gasp! I know!

I wrote mostly arts reviews, and rarely something more serious. I wrote about 40 articles for those journals back in the day, and at least one was included (without my permission, I will add) in some Japanese coffee table book about an art installation I'd reviewed ("Ball Crowd Illuminates Riotous Architecture", The Varsity, Oct 2, 1992). The rest were of variable quality, but each had the fullness of my attention. The experience, without a doubt, helped me to develop the skills and discipline to become a professional writer.

My very first editor was Isabel Vincent, who went on to Canadian journalistic fame. The article I wrote for her was a review of a new TV show called Star Trek: The Next Generation. I'd concluded that the show would probably not have a long run. I was quickly pigeonholed as the "Star Trek guy", and was subsequently sent out to review a couple of Star Trek conventions. Yeah, chicks dig guys who write about Star Trek. Right?

My old high school friend Simon Houpt was my subsequent editor. Simon, of course, is now a superstar arts writer for the Globe & Mail, and author of Museum Of The Missing: A History of Art Theft. I remember that one of Simon's thrills was occupying the Gargoyle office once owned by David Cronenberg when he, too, was a student journalist. The lineage of such things is deep and important.

(A decade later, Simon and I would meet Ted Turner in the men's room of a movie theatre. Simon would go on to interview Billionaire Ted in an article that briefly caused a little stir in American print media. I mentioned the meeting briefly in one of my wrestling columns at the time.)

I recall fondly my first "big name" interview, which was arranged by Simon. It was with film director Patricia Rozema at the so-called "Festival of Festivals", which is what the Toronto International Film Festival was called back then. It's quite the giddy thing for a naive 20-something to be cast into the world of glamorous film festivals, with a catering room, press pass, press kit and everything! I would go on to review the TIFF for a variety of magazines years later, as my career matured.

Ms Rozema was very helpful, as she could probably tell how nervous I was. She told me to stop recording and check to see if the tape recorder was actually working. Now that I myself am sometimes interviewed, often by inexperienced journalists, it's something that I find myself doing: asking the interviewer to check on his recording device. I was such a pathetic sod, that at one point the interview turned into a therapy session as Ms Rozema attempted to console my broken heart, recently made so by an ended relationship.

I'll never forget something she told me during the formal interview. She was talking about how people search for meaning through family and by doing good deeds, leaving their mark, etc. I asked her then what her purpose in life was, and she replied, "To make beautiful things through my art." At the time, I thought it was the stupidest, flakiest and most self-obsessive thing I'd ever heard. I'm not so sure anymore.

I'll also never forget the reception that my interview received, so typical of idiotic, self-important youth. The first line of the article was, "Patricia Rozema is a beautiful woman in every respect." Predictably, the newspaper received letters of complaint that I was "objectifying" her. Insert rolling eyes here.

One of the curious things about student journalism, especially at a big and important school like the University of Toronto, is that you never know who your coworkers will become. Another old friend of mine, Matthew Vadum, was big on the student journalism scene and now makes it big on American TV and print. Another gadabout in those days was Hal Niedzviecki, who has certainly carved out a niche for himself in Canadian culture.

Back in the Varsity days, I worked alongside many future big names. Two necessarily come to mind: Naomi Klein, who is now one of the most famous women in the world; and Tim Long, who is now a writer and producer for The Simpsons. (And I will personally attest that long before the Powers That Be noticed him, Tim Long was a reflexively hilarious writer and a naturally hilarious fellow.)

As a result, despite whatever small success my writing has afforded me, I hope you will forgive me for never quite feeling up to the task. Look to whom I must constantly compare myself!

So what's the lesson here? There is none, except to say that so much of student experience separate from the formal academics plays a role in shaping one's skills and path in life. I wonder who the young woman who interviewed me on Friday will become in 15 years.

Those Dyin' British Actors

I just learned from Rondi that Edward Woodward is dead. Most of you will remember him from that great American TV drama, The Equalizer. That show represented something sorely missing from current entertainment media: recognition of the skills of the middle aged. Rather than a team of models-cum-martial artists, all with genius IQs and deep histories going back decades beyond their actual ages, The Equalizer was about a retired British secret service agent who righted wrongs on the tough streets of the USA.

I loved Woodward in one of the creepiest of understated British horror films, The Wicker Man (the original, not the ridiculous Nicholas Cage remake). His son, Peter Woodward, is also a successful, though lesser known, actor, most noted in my world for his excellent and creepy portrayal of Galen, the "technomage" in the Babylon 5 spin-off, Crusade.

You also may not know that Edward Woodward had a key role in the recent (2007) Simon Pegg comedy, Hot Fuzz. Edgar Wright, the director of that film, has a tribute to Woodward on his website. Wright links to this Youtube clip of the opening of one of Woodward's early UK dramas, Callan. As Wright put it, "Edward Woodward was badass".



I find it pretty cool when serious British actors pop up in bit roles in their twilight years. Another example of that was the late great Patrick McGoohan's role as British King "Longshanks" (Edward I) in the Mel Gibson epic, Braveheart.

I will always lump the two with Richard Harris, who in his twilight years played Dumbledore, far more convincingly, in my opinion, than his replacement, Michael Gambon. I always thought Heath Ledger was on track to become the next Richard Harris.

Many people don't remember that Richard Harris was the voice behind the 1970s epic song, McArthur Park. For some reason, I can never disassociate this fact from the 1981 parody of his performance on SCTV. Here's Dave Thomas playing Richard Harris doing McArthur Park:




In terms of classical British actors in their twilight years, who does that leave? Peter O'Toole, of course, most recently seen in a gloriously creepy role as amoral Pope Paul III in The Tudors.


In Other News

Canadian diplomat Richard Colvin claims that Canadian forces engaged to some degree in the illegal detainment and torture of Afghans. Conservative Ministers McKay and Baird deny such allegations and turn to questioning Colvin's very character. Thus, despite opposition demands, the government has refused to initiate any inquiry into possible abuses.

Hmm, you know what would really help to clear up any of these misunderstandings and allegations? I dunno, evidence of some sort, a smoking gun.... maybe some photos. Because, as we all know, when photos of crimes are taken, any truly responsible and democratic government would enter such photographic evidence into the public record, so that wrongdoers can't hide behind slandering their accusers or by erecting the wall of denial.

And we all know that no responsible, ethical and democratic government would ever seek to, I dunno, conceal such photos because that would be illegal, unethical, tantamount to criminal conspiracy, and plain old wrong.

Just sayin.

Celebrity Deathwatch

Wow, it's been a while since my last blog update! Been so very very busy. Sigh. Lot of stuff to cover.

First, it's gotta suck if you're Farrah Fawcett, Ed McMahon or Karl Malden. Not only are you dead, but you died pretty much the same time as Michael Jackson, so no one is going to take note. Not even this blog.

I was looking through my blog archives for any mention of Michael Jackson. On Dec 31, 2007, I rode a camel in Egypt named Michael Jackson. On Jan 6, 2006, one of those computerized photo matching services told me I look similar to MJ. On Sep 7, 2006, I mentioned how Adam Ant once gave MJ fashion advice. On Feb 1, 2007, I showed you the Indian version of the video for "Thriller". And on July 25 of 2008 I mentioned that I had watched the Michael Jackson biopic.

What I didn't mention, and what I'd expressed to friends at the time, was that I had been utterly convinced of Michael Jackson's innocence with respect to all the various paedophilia charges against him. He simply struck me as an odd, naive fellow with more money than sense, and with a weird fascination with his own lost childhood. I doubt if he's had more than two sexual thoughts per year in his adult life, and probably never acted on any of them.

A funny thing happened after his death was announced. First, much like the unrest in Iran, MJ's death finally brought some relevance to Twitter. Second was the mindblowing outpouring of grief, both live and online. MJ reflections dominated the Twitterverse, Facebook and pretty much every blog I frequent. I know people who were moved to depression and tears.

It's weird. Michael Jackson was only a few years older than me; I consider him to be of my generation. I grew up with his music since the 1970s. But his death, while tragic, really didn't move me much. However, the people I know who have been the most affected are those under 30 years of age, who reached social awareness well past Jackson's glory days. I'm not sure what this means, but it must surely mean something.

One Facebook comment really pissed me off, though. I don't have the exact quote in front of me, but it was something to the effect that, "Why is the world obsessing over a dead paedophile? Have all the wars, rapes and injustices in the world been solved? Why is this news?"

This comment was objectionable on so many levels. First, Michael Jackson was never found guilty of any of the charges against him, so it's unfair, incorrect and possibly slanderous to refer to him as a paedophile. Second, since when is "news" only "wars, rapes and injustices"? News is anything that is new and that people seem to care about.

What the commenter really, and obtusely, doesn't get is that Jackson's death (and life) were transformative events for a great many people in the world. Spontaneous expressions of genuine, public emotion, unspurred by media, are rare in our modern times. We should embrace them and indeed revel in them.

The Other Ray sends us the following video of the history of Moonwalk:




While we're at it, here's the best Moonwalk I've ever seen:



And Brother Bhash sends us some well-timed Michael Jackson death jokes, 'cause it ain't the Internet age unless someone crosses the line:

Jockeys at tomorrows horse meetings will wear "black" armbands out of respect for Jacko, who rode more 3 year old than anyone in living history.

When Farrah Fawcett arrived at heaven, God granted her one wish. She wished for all the children to be safe. So God killed Michael Jackson.

Out of respect, McDonalds has released the McJackson burger, 50 year old meat between 10 year old buns.

Q: Why did Michael Jackson die on the same day as Farrah Fawcett?
A: He didn’t want her to be the only white woman grabbing all the headlines.

Toxicology report is out. It seems Michael Jackson died from an allergic reaction after eating some 12 year old nuts.

Michael Jackson died of a heart attack? What did he do, walk into a room full of pre-schoolers?

That's all for today.

PAB2009

Greetings from the 2009 Podcasters Across Borders convention in sunny Kingston, Ontario. As you probably don't know, my friend (she would say, "acquaintance", I'm sure) Chamika A. and I have been trying to launch Chutnification, a podcast about South Asian literature, for some months now. Don't think about stealing the name. We already own it. So we're here for the skinny on the podcasting world. Yes, it's a nerdly sausage fest. But you know what? So far it's a pretty fun time. The fellow conventioneers are all well engaged and genuinely nice people, and there ain't nothin' wrong wit dat.

Here's a pic of Chamika and me. I'm throwing down some bad-ass gang signs. So no, I'm not having a seizure:



Since our podcast doesn't have any, you know, content yet, I'm calling it a "mimecast". Yes, you can use that terminology, too, but don't you dare forget where you heard it first. Or didn't hear it, since that's the point of the joke, after all...

Tonight I had some more ideas for podcasts:

A show about fishing: codcast
Another show about fishing: rodcast
A show for Evangelical Christians: godcast
A show for weed smokers: potcast
Another show about weed smoking: podgrass
A show for cattle ranchers: prodcast
A show for fitness freaks: bodcast
A show about Flash comic books: Gorilla Grodcast
A show about my favourite Superman villain: Kneel Before Zodcast
A show about failing computers: podcrash
A show broadcast in double stereo: quadcast
A show about affirmation: nodcast
A show about nasal hygiene: snotcast
A show about potatoes: spudcast
A slow moving show: plodcast

Well, you get the idea.


In Other News...

Darth Vadum sends us Sex Myths That Are Actually True.

Any Iranians out there wishing to protest the current shenanigans online, but are afraid of exposure? Try Anonymous Iran.

Real Life Superheroes

I'm sometimes asked to explain my semi-retirement from the world of fiction writing. The long answer has something to do with not believing that we should flood the world with books unless we actually have something of value to add... so many authors write because it's their job, not because they have something to say. The short answer, though, is probably more pithy and digestible: truth is a billion times more interesting than fiction can ever be.

Case in point: the recent emergence of real-life "superheroes" on American city streets. Let's be clear here. By "superhero" we mean dudes with issues who wear costumes and prowl the streets looking to exact vigilante justice. Cincinnati's "ShadowHare" is the most famous:



You can see them all at, well, the World Superhero Registry.

Predictably, with the emergence of real life superheroes has come the emergence of real life super villains. That's right. We have witnessed the birth of ROACH: Ruthless Organization Against Citizen/Chubby Heroes.

ROACH is so diabolical that they have posted an ad in Craigslist offering a staggering bounty of $10 for anyone who can provide the secret identity of ShadowHare.

I think there's one thing we can all agree about this story: it will not end well.

In Other News...

Adam S. sends us this neat commercial showing what Bruce Lee would have looked like playing ping pong with his nunchaku:



Meanwhile, Cousin Ajay sends us today's classic Daily Perv Link (TM):



Lastly, my review of the new Star Trek movie is available at Skiffy.ca.

Yuri and the Wonder Twins

Apparently The Wonder Twins are back, if only in toy form:



As a commenter on io9.com put it, "I especially like the Praise Satan grins they're sporting."

Now compare this new buffness and boobishness to the original:



In other news, today marks the 48th anniversary of the historic flight of Yuri Gagarin, hero of the Soviet Republic and the first human being to both enter outer space and orbit the Earth. Here's a picture of me and a couple of students, from earlier this year, in which I am sporting a Yuri Gagarin T-shirt. It was given to me by a charming and gorgeous Ukrainian woman I was dating last year, and was purchased in the Ukraine, where Gagarin's is still a household name:



It's so very sad that most people in the West today have no idea who this great man was. His accomplishment ranks up there with those of Columbus and Champlain, yet the might of American media has erased his name from our school books. I once polled my students to see how many could identify the name on my T-shirt; none could. Some even thought "Gagarin" was the name of a clothing line.

So let me set the record straight. Yuri Gagarin was the first human being in space. Yuri Gagarin was the first person to orbit the Earth. Alan Shepherd was the first American, and second human being, in space, though he only did a sub-orbital flight. The Americans didn't make orbit till the flight of John Glenn, a whole year after Gagarin. In the interim, another Soviet, Gherman Titov, became the second human to orbit the Earth, but the history books have all but forgotten his name.

If I ask people who the first woman in space was, they always answer "Sally Ride", which infuriates me no end. Sally Ride was the first American in space, and flew in 1983.

The actual first woman in space was Soviet cosmonaut Valentina Tereshkova, who did the deed two decades earlier in 1963.

In fact, Ride was actually the third woman in space, beaten by a year by yet another Soviet, Svetlana Savitskaya.

The USSR may be gone, and there may have been a great many things about that regime that we find unattractive. But let's not forget that they were the ones who took the real pioneering steps in manned space exploration. Today we remember and honour Yuri Gagarin, hero of the Soviet Republic, and with him the legion of lesser known cosmonauts whose legacies do not benefit from the mighty machine of American media.

Why We go To Mars

Why does anyone care what this doofus thinks?
Hmm. Just ate a mountain of chilli and am dizzy from the meat. Or I'm dizzy from a sinus infection. I don't know. In either case, I'm dizzy. So if I don't make any sense today, blame the dizziness.

I also just finished watching a year old episode of Real Time With Bill Maher, in which Ashton Kutcher went on a tirade about, "Why are we sending stuff to Mars when we have child slavery right here on Earth?!" Yes, he said those words, or something close to them. I don't remember exactly.

Now, I see young Mr. Kutcher's point. Our spending priorities have often been in discord with our spending needs. As a metaphor, his rant is well taken. But I actually think he was serious about dumping on the whole Mars thing, and on America's space program in general.

Kutcher was once a student of engineering, though he dropped out before finishing his degree. So I would assume that his passing familiarity with applied science would give some deeper insight into the value of the space program. Apparently not. So let's look at the issue for a moment.

First, let's break down the numbers. The 2009 NASA budget was $17.2 billion, which is comparable to the budgets of both Delta Airlines and Pfizer. According to one breakdown, that's about $1 per week for every American citizen over a whole year. I spend 20 times that amount on coffee alone. Not to be glib, but as a tax expenditure on the American federal budget, it's not particularly large.

A 1992 article in Nature estimated the economic benefits to the American taxpayer wrought by the space program:

• $21.6 billion in sales and benefits
• 352,000 (mostly skilled) jobs created or saved
• $355 million in federal corporate income taxes
• $95 billion to U.S. economic activity
• $1.5 billion return on investment in the form of sold commercial goods and services

This does not include the economic impact on local communities benefiting from the influx of new industries and professionals, nor on the long term economic advantages of all the spin-off products and technologies. For example, many of the materials advances of the space program gave us the stuff from which our current generation of outdoor gear was developed; the economy of sales of camping gear does not factor into the above calculus.

Since Kutcher mentioned Mars specifically, let's note that the Mars Exploration Rover (MER) missions cost NASA about $820 million. The remaining Mars budget has been cut to about $340 million.

This seems like a lot of money --and it would be, for a single person. But it's a pittance for government. And let's not forget that this money is being spent on employing thousands of people and on building and sustaining industries that keep entire communities afloat.

Indeed, because of the space program we have microcomputers, temperature resistant fabrics, velcro, magnificent breakthroughs in distance and telemedicine, manufacturing and material sciences, not to mention a global satellite-based communications and GPS system.

Mind you, the same logic could be applied to the military, which has dramatic economic downstream ameliorations. But while expenditures on the military eventually end up killing lots and lots of people, expenditures on the space program are not meant to kill, but rather increase scientific knowledge, propel technological advancement in a slew of areas, and ultimately open up vistas for cheaper and more efficient energy production, food production, medical care, manufacturing, propulsion, communication and computing.

So let's gut the military, but keep on financing the space program. Solutions to many earthly problems lie beyond our gravity well. For instance, I've argued in this space many times that the time has come to explore the building of orbital power satellites to solve our terrestrial energy demands.

Meanwhile, reports indicate that Ashton Kutcher will get paid $10 million to pretend to be a florist in his next movie, and will receive 10% of the movie's gross receipts. Zod only knows how much this overreacting doofus is actually worth. Exactly how does his wealth or his movie about a florist impact the werewithal of society? Maybe we should liquidate his assets to fight "child slavery".

Ah, The Thirties

Kim H. sends us the following advertising images that supposedly originate from the 1930s. Frankly, they could be from anytime prior to 1970. But who cares; they're neat.