Vieux-Montréal (rue Notre-Dame) – 2013.07.23

Penile politics

Anthony Weiner’s wiener should present itself for New York’s mayorship. After all, according to the latest polls, New Yorkers are ready to vote for a dick, aren’t they?

Wordepress

Up to now, I’m not very happy with WordPress in the [.com] version. The interface is just terrible when you use the admin Visual/HTML method of editing. Worse, the Visual tab is not WYSIWIG despite its name. What you see there is different than what you see in the Preview button (which is what will be really posted). But what I hate the most is that basic things to know are not mentioned when they boast their product, and are hidden in obscure subsites which can take days to find out about. Like the HTML < iframe > boundary for instance. This is the new way to embed videos (HTML5) and the one to use to make this function work in portable phones, pads etc. I found out about this, as I just said, after hours of searching. This boundary, which is the one used by almost all video providers these days including Youtube, Vimeo and a bunch of others because that’s where the future lies, and which is recognized by Xanga, is ignored by WordPress. If you try to embed a video using < iframe >, the ‘embed’ code Youtube gave you will simply be scrapped by WordPress. The only way to embed a video is to give its normal URL address on a single line. WordPress will then embed that video, but without any < iframe> parameters of yours, like starting point, frames, size, etc. They’ll choose a size for you, whether you like it or not.

There is however a way to include a < iframe> boundary. That’s by using one of their plug-ins. And guess what, you cannot upload plug-ins in the [.com] version. None whatsoever. That’s why the Plug-in section is not in the dashboard’s menu. They say that it’s for security reasons. Yeah sure! Then why would it be safe more safe in the [.org] self hosted version? It’s all bullshit as far as I am concerned. A ploy to get people to upgrade (and pay) for the other version. If there’s something I don’t like besides being screwed is to be laughed at straight in the face.

And I don’t like either to be told in a tutorial that «If you’re already hanging out in the Reader — all the cool kids do — click “My Blogs” to access a listing of all the blogs you own or administer. Under the blog’s name, you’ll see “Blog admin.” Click it. Voilà: dashboard.» I am NOT a kid. I’m 63 tomorrow. And I’m not cool. If I wanted cool, I’d move to Groenland or in the box of a speeding pick-up truck driven by a brainless redneck living with his guns in the middle of nowhere.

Then I tried Blogger, if only to have a reservation on my new super-duper username . Just to create a blog, I had to access my gmail account, which they so conveniently knew what it was without even their asking. Then I had to choose a name which wasn’t clear the name of what it was (the blog, the username?) and one theme out of 6 or 8, without any explanation or preview button larger than the stamp-sized pic they were so nice to display. Or maybe I missed something, which is the same. If I miss something, then there’s something wrong with it. The general feeling was that I was being Big-Brothered up to my eyeballs by Google. Google and the NSA work hand in hand, because their modus operandi is the same. Besides, Blogger is very limited compared to WordPress as per storage space is concerned, and also I suspect, with what you can do with it which is most likely much less than with Wordepress.

So, well, I’m stuck with Wordepress I guess. And that extra “e” is not a typo, by the way.

New lottery

Since the royal (regal?) kid now has a name, bookers can now set their attention to Xanga. It’s a bonus since there are two lotteries at stake: the exact date something will happen, and what that something will be. And if that second lottery ends up with a “goodbye” maybe we can add a third one: will there be an advance notice or will the URL start to play dead one morming, basically because it will indeed be?

Society of abundance

We have a major and bloody train accident every three weeks. We have planes missing runways by a hair or hitting them nose first. We have so many oil spills that they barely report them anymore, including the Lac Mégantic one which we learned this week is considered the largest inland spill in North America’s history. We have large cruise ships that make Titanics of themselves on stray islands or float adrift and toiletless for days in Mexican gulfs. We have more floods in summer than animals in Noah’s Ark. We have more heat waves and forest fires than there are narcos in Mexico. We have dozens of billions of tons of methane and CO₂ being slowly released from the thawing permafrost and melting ice in the Arctic. We also have murderers who get away with… murder. Company executives who get away with the dough. We have politicians who rise to levels of irresponsibility unheard of, including showing their cock on Twitter.

So we indeed have a lot of many things. Could we also say we have enough? If not, when will enough be enough?

The Wall

A documentary by Israel-born cinematographer Ilan Ziv was broadcasted on our French-language allnews network these last weeks. It’s an international co-production of which the National Film Board of Canada was part of. It’s called Exile – A Myth Unearthed.

From NFB site: «This feature documentary looks at new evidence that suggests the majority of the Jewish people may not have been exiled following the fall of Jerusalem in 70 AD. Travelling from Galilee to Jerusalem and the catacombs of Rome, the film asks us to rethink our ideas about an event that has played a critical role in the Christian and Jewish traditions.» I watched parts of it then the phone rang and I missed the rest. What it demonstrates, essentially, is that they have found lots of evidence, not only archeological but also cultural, that the myth of the Jewish exile after the rampage of the Jerusalem temple, does not stand the road, and that there’s a good chance that those Palestinians they are building a wall to protect themselves from could very well be Jews having migrated to Islam some centuries later.

Is it necessary to remind that this exile(?) is one of the core reasons why the State of Israel was created, and justifies in their eyes the maintaining of the Occupied Territories and the never-ending “colonization” of the same? And that the apartheid they are subjecting the Palestians to, under this new light, appears in all its grotesque ridicule.

This film was barred from airing by the BBC this spring. Apparently its president is Jewish but this has nothing to do with it. Right?

Article en français sur ce film -> ici.
The above link is an article from La Presse and whose Google translation is readable, or just about.

Self-defense

Recently, passers-by in the Parc Jarry located not that far from my pad, were agressed by a male red-winged blackbird (carouge in French).

From La Presse: «The bird protects its nestlings (oisillons) from those it perceives as being predators. It adopts this behavior when its young leave the nest and learn how to move so they can eventually get to fly. The nestlings are surely at ground level, in the bushes located near the blackbird’s perch, according to the biologist. [..] Attacks stop after three weeks, generally, when the young finally start to fly. [..] The City of Montreal is aware of the situation: signs were placed around the area where the blackbird is perched at Jarry Park.»

I don’t know about you, but boy am I glad I don’t live in Florida. Imagine if that bird, feeling threatened, would start to shoot at those people instead.

^[*] Guaranteed 100% WordPress incompatible.

^[**] Well, isn’t this interesting. I had copied a few days ago the embed code from Youtube for this video. And it was working. Today, I notice that it isn’t embedded anymore and after checking on Youtube, the embedding code has since been deactivated for this video following a demand. Question is, by whom, and why?

Playing with matches

Last week I jokingly commented about that week’s heat tsunami, saying that it would end by Sunday and that afterwards we would be freezing. Apparently, the weather is no joking matter. The heat did die down somewhat on Sunday but, even if a few days late, we also did freeze on Wednesday. A maximum of 16C with strong northerly winds and a morning low to scare away any Weiner from displaying his t-bone. Luckily, this temporary erratic behavior (I’m talking of the weather, the other one’s behavior is apparently well entrenched) will soon turn into a bad souvenir, the kind that doesn’t make it into history books.

Movie time

For those who wondered about French flags and European No Parking signs and old cars in the header pic and were afraid to ask (as if ), they were shooting a movie that day right next to City Hall (on the right, not shown in the photo – the building in the pic houses Montreal’s Finance department). Our City Hall looks a lot like the one in Paris, but also to some other Paris buildings. The movie was set in the sixties or early seventies from what I gathered by what some actors were wearing and the 4 or 5 Citroën DS that were there. There was also a door topped by the flags of France, the U.S., South Viet-Nam (pre-1975) and the North Viet-Nam one (pre-1975) which also became the reunited Viet-Nam flag in 1975. There was a sign with a stylized “R” on the upper door frame. Maybe someone knows which building in Paris (or in France) that would represent? Rambouillet??

Movie time update

I found out what’s going on near City Hall. They are and have been filming since April a new film in the series of the X-Men movies. This one will hit the screens in May of 2014 and is called X-Men: Days Of Future Past. The whole movie is being filmed in Montreal, apparently. Halle Berry was here earlier for her scenes. Don’t ask me what are X-Men, I don’t have a clue.

The director, Bryan Singer, who is in Montreal obviously, has a Tweet-Tweet site for curious birdies: https://twitter.com/BryanSinger

Parc Jarry – Oct. 2006 (repost)

Come on babe, people are waiting!

They are turning blue at the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) after holding their breath for days now about the royal baby-to-be. In Quebec, I’ve still to hear/read something about it. Mind you, a lot of people in the rest of Canada couldn’t care less either, especially the 20% or something who were not born in Canada. It’s just that this old gang of Loyalists and former Brits have taken control somewhat of the CBC from the start. And now that the current federal government is splashing the monarchy everywhere in the Canadian federal apparatus, it’s not something to discourage the CBC from going ahead in that direction. Private networks like CTV are more reasonable (read ‘really’ Canadian).

Speaking of turning blue, there was this tv report I saw a few days ago showing that army of reporters and photojournalists who have been camping for days in front of that hospital where Kate “the wife of” will be tended to when the time (aka, the baby) comes. Someone in there reporting about the reporters (they occupy themselves as they can) said that they were all there to be the first to get hold of the scoop of scoops. I almost choked. In this age of instant communications, not only will they all simultaneously have the same copy of the same scoop, but chances are that a passerby with a portable phone will tweet a pic of it before those people have the time to call their head office requesting a “Breaking news” slot. All this for that?

I wonder what gift Stephen Harper will send to the Royals on this occasion. Maybe a leftover bale of hay from the Calgary Stampede? That would pretty much be to his level of classiness. After all, he showed the dad-to-be how to throw barrels in a wagon, last summer.

I also read that this birth will be very profitable to the U.K. economically. I am glad for them. These days, when money falls from the sky, there’s no objective reason not to rake it up, especially if it has the face of George Washington or any other non-British worldly leader (dead or alive) printed on it.

Missed missile

So there’s that boat coming from La Habana enroute to North Korea and which is searched by Panama because the U.S. would have told them it would be full of dope. There was no dope but there were outdated missiles, planes (dismounted I guess) and other paraphernalia the Soviets had left in Cuba when their system crashed at home. All covered with tons of sugar. Cuba contends they were sent to be repaired (that stands the road) and that the sugar was the payment (considering Cuba’s finances, that holds the road also). North Korea contends nothing. They are not very talkative usually, except when they menace to wipe out the U.S.

I find all this interesting. Ten years ago, they were seeing inexistant WMDs, now they are seeing inexistant dope. Learning is a very long process, I was once told.

The way I see it, either Cuba is saying the truth or it is selling its old scrap to Kim under the table. One way or the other, I conclude that Cuba is broke and I fail to see how it can represent the godawful, terrible and horrible menace to the U.S. that some in that country pretend it to be.

Heat and more heat

After a dreadful month of June, now we’re stuck with a heatwave. Yesterday, it was the equivalent of 43 or 44C with the humidex factor. I don’t mind heat per se, I’ll take heat long before cold, but the kind of heat we have here is generally laden with humidity which makes it difficult to breathe for people in certain categories like children, older people, and those with respiratory diseases or problems. Although I can act like one at times, I’m not a kid anymore. As per aging goes, I’m not getting younger either. But what could be dangerous for me is all that crap about the lungs. The part they removed is the smaller lobe of the three ones on the right side. It’s not the end of the world but it’s the end of that lobe, that’s for sure. And that hole in the back is still a hole. And the remaining lung is not that far behind it. Heat brings another problem. The sweat in the back makes the bandage covering it to detach which is not funny at all, especially if I have to call the nurses to come home and redo it. Not to mention the temporary absence of protection against infection. My downstairs neighbor suggested I use one of those rolls of extensible bandage holders to at least keep the bandage in place if the tape stops sticking. It works but it’s a lot of trouble installing it alone. So all in all, I try to keep my errands expeditions to a minimum and stay inside. Unfortunately, to prevent outside heat from coming inside, I have to keep blinds closed so essentially I have to live like a caveman until the wave is over. I console myself seeing that it’s the same or even worse in some parts of the U.S. or Europe. Just heard that it was 37C and 45C humidex in New York today. Guaranteed Letterman will talk about it in his today’s opening monologue.

Farcical justice

So George Triggerman was found not guilty by a Florida court. Not guilty of what by the way? I haven’t followed too much Court TV on CNN but of what I understand there was not sufficient proof without the shadow of a doubt that George Revolverman did shoot the unarmed 17-year old Trevor Martin not accidentally. This last sentence is not easy to read. The trial wasn’t either. And listening to one of its jurors, it’s even more of a mud puddle with racist overtones.

Which does not mean that George Saviorman didn’t do it. He did, of course. It’s just that under Florida laws, he was already acquitted before the act.

I went to Google maps to look at the Sanford area where the murder (let’s call a rat a rat) took place. It’s a neighborhood consisting of a collection of privately owned city blocks which are fenced at times by wooden walls, at times by brick ones. And there are gates to enter, of course. In the closest un-fenced areas around those communities (aka where the Google little man is allowed), houses are very upscale. In other words, the probability that some young Black thug would be living in that area are very dim. And in view of other geographical barriers, like a lake and an expressway and a low population density, the probability that a young Black thug from elsewhere would go there, on foot, and casually stroll the sidewalk are also quite dim. Of course, if Trayvor Martin was there it’s because he lived there. George Noclueman had to know or at least suspect this, or he’s very dumb. Or maybe a closet racist. Or a mix of both, racism and dumbness certainly not being mutually exclusive.

From the little I watched, this trial was a misnomer. It was rather the trial of Trayvor Martin and he was found guilty.

Cultural differences?

Two news clippings I stumbled upon, the second one translated.

“Once they go to church, and the preacher puts in their heart the right way to think about it and the positive way to deal with it, it might change other people’s minds than to go out and get crazy,” she said. Indeed, that was the message Rev. Vernon McQueen tried to deliver to the congregation gathered at a music- and dance-filled service on Sunday morning at the Allen Chapel A.M.E. Church in Sanford’s black Goldsboro neighborhood. “We are not depending on the Sanford Police Department. We are not depending on Seminole County sheriffs. We are not depending on the courts. We know that a finding of guilty comes from the Lord,” McQueen said. “You know, God, we know as long as we keep our hands in your hands, everything will be all right,” he said.

Great was the mystery of faith, this morning, for the tens of parishioners reunited for a first Sunday mass since fifty of their fellow citizens have died in the shadow of their church, in Lac-Mégantic. The priests chose to omit the «Glory to God» and to not adress the tragedy up front this morning. «Our pastoral concern is to foster hope, mentioned priest Steve Lemay after the mass. Without negating what has happened, we must put things a little into perspective. The same also goes for liturgy. Usually we sing a Glory to God, we didn’t do it this week.»[..] «It was difficult, but the Lord gives us the strength to do what has to be done for the community, says Nicole Turcotte, who herself was evacuated for several days.»

I prefer the second approach. Do something, with or without the counsel of God, but do something. Not shovel the problem in His yard.

Update July 21

Happy National Day to all Belgians (Wallons, Vlamingen… e Italiani) !

Arbre humain – Jour de la Terre / Human tree – Day of the Earth
Avenue du Parc / Parc Avenue — 2012.04.22

Oh well…

This was supposed to be my Xanga “swan song” post. Monday, they said that two more weeks have been added before turning the key into the lock. Oh well, if Monday was a sample of what’s in store until the end, with all those delays even for logging in, it’s just like it was already down so I think I’ll keep my planned course. Besides I must cater to that other thing mentioned next. Note: I saw Fauquet could upload. I checked and the function is back for me also.

What’s to come

I opened an account on WordPress. After weeks of brainstormings, I finally settled on a new username. It’s a portmanteau word made with yul which are the call letters of the Montreal international airport and gilberto which is the Spanish version of the name of someone I know quite well . So yulberto it will be. It can be pronounced literally in any of the three languages I speak (French, English and Spanish) although in French that “u” would sound better ‘à l’espagnole’, that is “ou”.

I still have to figure out how that site works so the extra two weeks on Xanga are welcome. Of course, if Xanga remains free… oh never mind.

Precision

I should have explained my previous header. The Gay Pride week was only a pretext for this cartoon. What it underlines is the terrible state our streets and highways are in in Montreal, and as soon as winter ends, orange construction cones pop up everywhere, driving motorists (and cyclists and pedestrians) crazy, and this has been the case for some years and will be for many years to come. People are so fed up that the situation has turned into a running gag.

Hope and despair, or the other way around

It’s no secret that the so-called natural catastrophes that have been hitting this planet as of late are largely due to human activity, and often an irresponsible one at that. And this will continue because those who have the control, governments, big business, either deny their involvement in the problem or fail to act to straighten things up. The survival of humanity, a long term occurence, is superseded by a more immediate concern, profit. We have witnessed a nice example of this no later than a few days ago in Lac-Mégantic. All this is quite despairing.

On the other hand, on an individual level, we see more and more people wanting to and doing their part in trying to give the planet a break. There are more and more of them, and they often regroup in organisations that at some point can become influential enough to, if not make the powerful change their course, at least spread the word in the population in general in such a way that after a critical mass has been attained, those people can force those poweful to finally act, by the magic of voting. This is often a dream more than anything else, but it still remains what we can call hope.

In 2008, for the grand finale show of the Francofolies Festival, Diane Dufresne was asked to stage a show adressing those issues which can be put under the umbrella term of “environment”. The name of the show was Terre planète bleue (Earth Blue Planet) . That was before the new Place des Festivals was completed, so the main stage was located where it was before, on Ste-Catherine at the intersection of Jeanne-Mance. It is facing east, the Place des Arts complex is immediately to the left and the Gay Village (now with its overhanging pink balls) starts about 1 Km straight ahead from the stage. There seems to be people up to St-Laurent (in the video below) so my guess is a crowd of at least 150 000, probably more.

This was the show’s description on the Francofolies site at the time (translated):

Conceived, directed and hosted by the great Diane Dufresne , the closing show of the Francos will be themed around the environment. Surrounded among others by Richard Séguin, Daniel Lavoie, Michel Pagliaro and Richard Desjardins, the Quebec diva will sing the love of the Earth. Scattered with interventions – among which those of Jean Lemire ^[*] and Hubert Reeves ^[**] on video – this hymn to the planet was designed to unite creative energy to conscience awareness, scenic virtuosity to science, by the marriage of several artistic domains combining many cultures.

During the whole show, large screens on the stage were displaying photos taken by the public, photos that Dufresne had priorily asked the public to send her, and based on the theme of the beauty of the planet. The photo’s author was displayed along with the pic.

^[*] Jean Lemire is the Québécois equivalent of Jacques-Yves Cousteau. Biologist and cinematographer, he conducted four voyages in the Arctic and especially the Antarctic (one of 430 days) with the Sedna IV schooner. On April 18 2012, he left on a 1000-day mission onboard the Sedna IV to make the public discover the fragile beauty of our planet and its inhabitants. From the French Wikipedia for the Sedna IV: The Sedna IV is a steel three mast schooner reinforced for ice conditions, used for scientific oeanographic expeditions and the production of documentary film. [..] It was equipped in 2001 with a cinema studio, an editing room, and high definition filming equipment. The crew also uses high precision scientific equipment to collect, compile and analyse data from their research expeditions. The ship is also linked to Internet via satellite. The Sedna IV is based in the Iles-de-la-Madeleine, in the Gulf of St-Lawrence.

^[**] Hubert Reeves is a world renowned astrophysicst, author and vulgarizer. Born and having studied in Quebec, he now lives in France. Of his numerous books, the most famous has to be “Patience dans l’azur”, a pure marvel which has been translated in German, English, Brazilian, Catalan, Egyptian, Spanish, Greek, Dutch, Italian, Japanese, Polish, Persian and Portuguese. For Americans, think of a fatherly and smiling Carl Sagan. The name of the show comes from a poetic text written by Reeves, but I don’t know if it was before or for the show itself.

For the segment of the Terre Planète Bleue show shown in the video, Diane was dressed like some survivor of an hypothetical future world war. The first song is Le monde est fou (The World is Mad [nuts, crazy, gone berserk? - hard to translate]) It is a song which she sang live and only once in 1981 and had never sung again before this concert, 27 years later. Because of its dark side, I would fit it in the ‘despair’ category. The second song is Hymne à la beauté du monde (Hymn to the beauty of the world) which I think I already posted about here and which in my view fits, if not in the ‘hope’ category, at least in the ‘reasons to hope’ one. When the song is over, she asks the public to sing with her, also thanking them for all the beautiful pics they had sent. In the end she says: But the world… it’s you. Magnificient. This latest song is known by anyone who speaks French in Québec.

2008 – Terre Planète Bleue, downtown Montreal. Translated lyrics after the video:

I don’t know where he took it, but the guy who posted this video also posted the original [June 24] 1981 performance, with a much younger Diane Dufresne singing at the Fête Nationale concert which that year was held at the Old Port. He says they were 300 000 there, which I have all reasons to believe it was indeed the case since it was the year following the lost 1980 referendum on sovereignty. In those days, there was a giant bonfire that night (June 23 or 24), a custom which was abandoned in Montreal for some reason but which was reinstated recently (this year it was on the plaza at one end of the Olympic Stadium). In Quebec City and elsewhere in Quebec, the custom, which dates back to pagan times, was not interrupted (that I know of).

What I find interesting in this video is Diane Dufresne herself. This was 1981, years before Madonna started to give ‘concept’ shows, and years before others like Lady Gaga were even born. Cone-shaped breasts were not a Madonna/Gaultier invention. As one critic says, name it, Diane Dufresne has done it before. Including her 1980 concert at the Montreal Forum, the first ever by a Québécois female singer in that temple or Anglo-Saxon music, and where she sang the whole 45-minute first part with one breast in the nude, emerging from a cloud of white ballons at the start of the show (9m33s in link) and after a long strip-tease in reverse, ended the show with that incredible pink crinoline dress and clownish doll costume for the singing of her two last songs, “Laissez passer les clowns” and yes, “Hymne à la beauté du monde”. A few months earlier, after almost two years in France, she had given at Le Palace Theater in Paris a show to celebrate Québec’s Fête Nationale and where she rocked the boat, and also had one nude breast and the other covered (?) with a blue Québec Lily. Said she (my words): I wanted to show them what a real Quebecer was.

I won’t even mention the 1984 concert at the Olympic Stadium ending with her dressed as a pink Liberty and crossing the whole stadium on a pink runway , a runway which was the same never-ending trail of her dress when she entered the stadium in the opposite direction, with hundreds of hands unrolling and carrying that trail as she advanced towards the stage.

Another thing I find interesting is that these two songs, dating as far back as the mid to late seventies, show that as per environmental awareness goes, we are not trailing behind the train, so to speak. Another facet of this ‘distinct society’.

1981 – Fête Nationale, Old Port:

Video of 1982 (‘Hollywood’ show) version here (at 6m30s) -> http://dai.ly/xqs7lw. It is of course totally different, as Dufresne always does from one show to the other.

Diane Dufresne is the greatest French-language singer alive. It’s my opinion, I share it, and that’s final. In the 20th century, she was only dwarfed by Édith Piaf. She is totally unique. But what makes her even more special is the also unique bond there is and has always been between her and her public. For most of her shows, which were all theme shows and of which most were once-only performances, she asked them to wear something related to the show. That’s why in the videos we see many of them with make-up or elaborate costumes. Hollywood, in 1982, saw them dressed as stars, 1984′s Magie Rose saw the Olympic stadium invaded by a sea of pink, Top Secret in 1986, incorporating kabuki (Japanese drama dance), saw the hall full of detectives, spies, sunglasses, and Japanese costumes galore. Around a decade ago, she gave a series of concerts called “Liberté conditionnelle”. A fine example of this special bond uniting both the artist and her public, and which has nothing to do with the groupie sort of thing, is expressed in this last video where she sings the last song of that show. She is aging. They are aging. I am aging. But for all of those like me who had the chance to meet her in person, it will remain a wonderful souvenir.

note: The song Top Secret from the eponym show (1986) is at 8m32s of same video.

Below: «Hymne à la beauté du monde» – photos from the 1980 show at the Montreal Forum, which I took off my computer monitor with DVD of original captured on video for television show playing. Each pic has a larger version on click.

That’s it.

UPDATE:

1- I found a much better quality photo of that 1973 record cover of Diane Dufresne topless in a Montreal back alley and which was the header of my June 29 post. I uploaded the new one.

2- I have already created my WordPress account but for now there’s no post. It’s at http://yulberto.wordpress.com.

UPDATE 14 JUILLET:

Bonne Fête Nationale à tous les Français.

Fierté gaie / Gay Pride 2011
Sur la base/On the base: Cônedom / Conedom
© Serge Chapleau – La Presse
(repeat post)

Slowly sinking…

The Photo Update thingie does not work anymore. My take is that the server doing the upload, and not the one storing the pics, was a rented service and they just didn’t renew the lease on July 1. This combined with long waits all weekend when accessing other functions like Sign in, Footprints etc shows that Xanga may be officially scheduled to hit the toilet on July 15, the flushing has already begun.

It is sad for those who thought Xanga might survive, but this will not happen. The best reason for this I found in a comment somewhere: Even if the site still exists after July 15, and regardless if current users are willing to pay, no new user will want to pay to open an account. The rest is obvious, it’s called attrition. Economically it’s a no-brainer.

Masturbations of the mind

I woke up at around 3h30 this Saturday morning, from a dream in which I was realizing that in the word “atmosphere”, sphere most likely refered to the roundness of the celestial objects equipped with such. Astounding discovery isn’t it? But “atmo” hey? What about “atmo”? Like Friend said, when you don’t know where it comes from, it probably comes from Greek, the ancient one that is. My first take was that maybe it meant something like “around”. Since I couldn’t sleep, I got up and frigged at the computer. Now, for remembrance, I did win the first prize at the “Procrastinator of the Year” awards held last year, and all the other years since I stopped potty-pooping. So, as it should be, I had forgotten about “atmo” in just the time it took to walk from my bed to the computer.

However, as every true-blood procrastinator knows, not done also means not gone. The “not done” comes back regularly to haunt us. It did so in late afternoon. Since I was alone and nobody could stool on me which would hinder my chances of getting this year’s award, I took on me to cheat and to check in my “Le Robert – Dictionnaire historique de la langue française”. So here it goes (my translation):

ATMOSPHERE n.f. is a learned compound word (1655) formed with the Greek (Ha!) atmos “humid vapor” (of uncertain origin; not related to the sanskrit ātmán “souffle”) and sphaira “celestial sphere” [..]

Notes: The French “atmosphère” used to be a little boy but is now a little girl since 1740. No reasons given. Also the French “souffle” has many English translations including “souffle” so I left it as is.

At least I will be able to go to bed tonight with this out of my mind. I hate waking up in the middle of the night to answer futile questions that my mind pops to me.

Paolo Conte is not dead

He was brought back to my mind very recently in an article in that I read. It also reminded me that I hadn’t heard about him in some time, so I wondered if maybe he had died or something. Wikipedia says he’s very well not dead yet. So that’s another worry out of my mind.

Boom!

Last night Early Saturday, at around 01h00, an 80-wagon runaway train carrying oil originating from South Dakota derailed and exploded in the small city (6000 p.) of Lac-Mégantic in southern Québec, near the American border. Half the downtown area was pulverized. Up to now, there are 5 confirmed deaths, but 40 persons remain unaccounted for. It will be a hard job finding them since they have been, essentially, cremated.

Stephen Harper, Mr Oil Himself, Canada’s Prime Minister and part-time dirty oil salesman, came to visit the site, having to temporarily leave his beloved Calgary Stampede. Being intellectually limited to this sort of thing, he equated what he saw to a war zone. He (and his government) wants to turn a current and old gas pipeline into a dirty oil one, reversing by the same token its current east-west flow into a west-east one. It is owned by Enbridge, the same company wanting to build that Keystone XL pipeline from Alberta to Texas and to which Obama seems reluctant about. I don’t know why, accidents involving oil transportation never happen, everyone knows that.

Bang!

This Saturday afternoon, a Boeing 777 banged on the runway in San Francisco, losing its tail in the bay and much of its roof somewhere else. From the last news I read, only two persons died in the crash, or was it a splash? It’s a good thing theirs was a Bang! rather than a Boom! elsewise (is that a word?) it would have turned into another, and much greater, cremation ceremony.

Personally, I don’t understand why a plane of that size was instructed to, or the pilot chose to, land on a runway where the GlidePath instrumentation was out of order for a few months. A 777 is not a Cessna, and those pilots have a lot of experience, but still the same… A Glide Path is a set of transmitters which project a signal of a specified angle, 2,5 degrees I think, and there’s a meter in the cockpit telling the pilot (automatic or human) to either get lower or higher if the plane does not follow that landing angle. This time around, the pilot(s) flew “visual”, period. For the edification of the masses, there is another similar transmitter called the Localiser, and which tells the pilot(s) if the plane is off course with regards to the runway centerline. Practical when you’re right on target as per the landing angle, but are heading straight to the adjoining fields. I learned about this technical stuff when I worked in an airport decades ago, along with Alpha Bravo Charlie Delta Echo Foxtrot Gulf Hotel India Juliet Kilo Lima Mike November Oscar Papa Quebec Romeo Sierra Tango Uniform Victor Whisky X-Ray Yankee Zulu. Knowing the phonetic alphabet used in aviation worlwide is a requirement to get a license to drive a vehicule on a runway or the tarmac because you must contact the control tower and identify yourself by the vehicule number to get permissions.

Burp!

One of our cheap networks (“V”) is having this week a “Semaine catastrophe”. For the whole week, they are programming in the afternoons movies featuring catastrophes. Is this what we could call ‘bad timing’? If we’re in a craze for catastrophes, all we have to do is switch to an all news channel and it’s catastrophes, real ones, wall to wall since Saturday and for most of this coming week assuredly. The guy who changed my bandage this morning said there was another one in Alaska. I haven’t looked it up yet. I’m on the verge of a catastrophe indigestion, not to mention the one I’ve been involved in for almost a year now.

Mont-Royal/Hôtel-Dieu – 2013.06.19

Note added July 5: Since the Xanga upload function took an early (and premonitory?) leave, in my case anyways, I finally had to upload elsewhere quarter-sized versions of the pics that were intended for this entry. I still had a few unused megs at that location. Anyway, since they are repeats of previously posted food pics, it does not change much in the end (which is coming).

Above

Rear view (3rd floor of 12) from the readaptation hospital where I had room and board for seven weeks last winter and where I go twice a week for physiotherapy and ergotherapy treatments. In the background is Mount Royal and just before it the Hôtel-Dieu Hospital.

Independence Day

Happy 4th of July to all Americans!

Evo Morales

The more it unfolds the more the Snowden affair becomes surreal. It’s as if the world’s manhole cover blew off and sewage from the main collector overspills everywhere.

Puff Puff

We’ve been under heavy smog since a few days and it’s supposed to be the same for the whole week. Half of it is smoke coming from huge forest fires in the grand north, and the other half is industrial crap coming from Ontario and the U.S.. When you’re right in it you don’t notice it that much, but if heat sets in (which is in the forecast) it may be a different story.

Update: Heat did set in. And yesterday afternoon at rush hour, many Montreal facilities, of which the metro, lost power for around an hour. It was caused by safety breakers having triggered off along the 750 000 volt power lines in the area of those large forest fires.

Niggers? Where? (dixit Roberts)

Isn’t it interesting that just when the U.S. Supreme Court declares racism something of the past, a television personality is ousted by the network she works for for having uttered racist remarks?

It was refreshing to hear Don Lemon on CNN [he's Black for those who don't know him] speak against those who constantly refer to the word ‘nigger’ as the ‘N-word’. How can you condemn those who use the term ‘nigger’ if you can’t (won’t) name it for what it is? All those “[letter]-words” are for me anything but blatant hypocrisy, or cowardice. And an American exclusive may I add. Nothing surprising mind you. They are also those who invented political correctness. And the asterisk-studded words. And the bleeps.

I’ll always remember when classy Catherine Deneuve, being asked by Bernard Pivot on his famous literary show, what was her favorite slur (juron), she replied without the shadow of an hesitation: “Va fanculo!” (go get fucked – fuck off for shorts). At that moment, I knew she, and Pivot, and his audience, and those watching the show in France and on TV5, were light years from the middle section of North America.

Procrastination

I must check out WordPress pretty soon. In more circumscribed words, that means ideally within the next 12 days, at the most.

Da food section

I don’t know why I add this section since for some time now I’ve not been very interested in trying new things, going outside beaten paths so to speak. I’m still lacking the required energy. The result of this is that when I get up it’s almost noon, when I eat a hefty breakfast, with some possibles naps during the rest of the day so I end up only being hungry in the evening (past 20h00) and it’s then too late to start something elaborate. Anyways, I took a few pics of some ‘repeats’ that have landed in front of me in the last weeks.

Mexican-style breakfast: Frutas con yogurt y granos

Veal liver sprinkled with steak spices, and accompanied by friends.

Warm/cold salad with mesclun (real this time), potatoes, pancetta and red wine vinegar (in the salad, not in the glass – that one is 0,5% alcohol wine because doctors are nasty with me).

Hot Italian sausage cooked in home-made tomato sauce, with farfale pasta.

14 Arpents soft cheese. An arpent is an old surface (land) measure used in Québec previously, now replaced with ‘hectare’. An arpent is about the size of the english acre, which was also in use here after the Conquest.

Musée des Beaux-Arts de Montréal (rue Du Musée)

[warning: rant]

Guess what? It’s Canada Day! (you have to fake surprise here)

And they are at it again.

After having deported my Acadian ancestors during the first modern ethnic cleansing operation which equated to a massacre considering the thousands who died at sea or soon afterwards in the operation [1755-1762], after having massacred the Rebels of 1837-1838, who wanted a responsible government like in the States, and having sent to exile in Australia those of their leaders whom they did not hang on a scaffold in downtown Montreal, and having deported (dumped) on us their humongous debt (1840), now they are deporting squirrels. Yes, yes, squirrels.

I learned recently, and in a report by Agence France Presse [AFP] for gawd sakes, who themselves got it from the Ottawa Citizen, that some residents from the posh Ottawa district of Westboro have been trapping squirrels for the purpose of dumping them across the river into Québec. Popular belief wants it for squirrels to always find their way back to their original habitat unless it is separated from it by a lake or a river. Apparently also, displacing an animal more than one kilometer is illegal in Ontario, to prevent the propagation of sicknesses. But who cares! After all, it’s only [expletive] Quebecers who live on the other side, right?

Gee, this suddenly brings back to my mind one of ‘their’ ancestors, General Whatsizname Amherst who, to thank the Amerindians for their brave services, gave them a bunch of smallpox-infested blankets.

Ok, let’s recap. They want me to celebrate a country whose name they stole from us (Canada), whose national anthem they stole from us (Ô Canada), whose national symbol they stole from us (maple leaf), whose capital they stole from us after having set fire to Parliament (Montreal,1849), whose Constitution is the result of a back-stabbing operation against Québec (1982), a country so screwed up identity-wise that they mix up nationality with ethnicity, and whose citizens, if that wasn’t enough, molest squirrels by dumping them in what they consider daily in their medias as the equivalent of Hell.

Gee, can I think this over for a while? Like two centuries say…?

Ethnic group
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
(Redirected from Ethnicity)
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“Ethnicity” and “Peoples” redirect here. For other uses, see Ethnicity (disambiguation) and Peoples (disambiguation).

Ethnicity or ethnic group is a socially defined category based on common cultural heritage, shared ancestry, history, homeland, language or dialect, and possibly other aspects such as religion, mythology and ritual, cuisine, dressing style, physical appearance, etc.

Thus, according to Wikipedia’s definition, which is the same as most of the planet understands it to be, I cannot be a Canadian as ‘they’ understand it since on every count, I have nothing in common with someone living in Guelph, Ontario. I cannot be part of one of the other ‘ethnicities’ for the same reasons. It doesn’t bother me the least bit, mind you. And as long as we are part of that country and as long as I pay income and other taxes to its government, I will take my due share of its services.

Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go plant my basil and other fine herbs before they die in their current mini-containers. Mind you, some may die just the same, munched by fine-palated squirrels. But that’s another story.

Diane Dufresne
Grand spectacle de la Fête Nationale – Montréal, 24 juin 2013
Québec’s Fête Nationale grand show – Montréal, June 24 2013

Above

After singing one song, Diane Dufresne came back a little later (wearing a new attire) to sing three more songs, of which the physically demanding Oxygène, at least the way she used to sing it when she was, like say, younger. For this new segment, she was wearing as a vest some kind of mix between a tutu, a science fiction lizard, and the rear end of a late 19th century dress. It was lined in the front with a partially opened zipper. When the song ended, she adressed the crowd and asked them for oxygen, jokingly, in the footsteps of the song, but considering her age, maybe there was a dash of truth in her request. So I guess that’s why, when talking to the public, she fully unzipped her vest to catch a bit of fresh air. That’s when was revealed her beautiful t-shirt, a real one this time, royal blue studded with those two big white “fleur de lys” on each breast. A huge wink to a record cover of hers from forty years ago. And one which I’m sure she had never done since. That’s Dufresne for you. She may be aging, but her imagination has no bounds. I, and those of my age who happen to be a fan of hers, sure recognized that famous paint job photographed in a back alley back then, in the early seventies. But for those attending that concert, 150 000 usually and mostly younger people, how many did? In some way, I took it that it was to us, those who were there in the 70s and who’ve followed her since, that this wink was being meant for. And maybe it was a way also for her to close the books, who knows?

Needless to say, I had no idea what she would be wearing on Monday when I posted that record cover in my last post. Just another crazy coincidence, to say the least.

Note: Pics above are printscreens from the show produced by Radio-Canada and which is available for some time on the net but for Canadians only. (www.tou.tv).

Strange echoes

I personally didn’t attend the show. I’m past the age of finding it “cool” to stand up for three hours in a park along with 150,000 others who, for the most part, see nothing except what’s shown on the big screens. Not to mention that it rained like hell in the afternoon and like purgatory for most of the evening. So I watched most of it (the show, not the rain) on a smaller screen, my tv. Midway into the show, I decided to leave and go to the local event which is held yearly on De Castelnau St, near marché Jean-Talon. About a 10 to 15 minute walk. The sky was foggy and it was quite humid. As soon as I got outsisde, I heard music seemingly coming from a street eastbound, where there is a large schoolyard. I figured it came from there, or from the alley longing it, some neighbors maybe having their own Fête Nationale party. The other one, where I was heading to, is westbound, so what I was hearing couldn’t be it. So I started to stroll up to Jean-Talon St where I was to turn left. All along the way, and until I did get to De Castelnau, the music kept bouncing from east to west to east until I realized that it were the buildings, some low, some others higher, that kept fooling me. The higher the building, the louder the sound. It was quite eerie, especially that it was around 22h30 and city noise was at a minimum. One thing I know, if I were a visitor and trying to find the party on De Castelnau by following the music, I’d be dead of exhaustion before getting there. Luckily, since I live in the area, I didn’t need a GPS. When I got there, I was surprised at the number of people there. A few thousand by my estimates. And for the vast majority, youngsters, in their twenties. There’s a large area in front of the church where they install a medium-sized stage, but the closed to traffic area is much larger, spanning on De Castelnau for 3 or 4 streets, but also all connecting intersections. In the daytime, it’s more a family-oriented affair, but there’s music all day on the stage, and lots of food (and beer) for sale at different stands. When I got there, it was the last group of the day: Bernard Adamus. He is a Polish immigrant who arrived in Montreal with his parents when he was three. His music is eclectic and his musicians, far out. Besides Adamus and his guitar, the drummer had a full set of drums/percussions, the bass was one of those humongously big sousaphones, there was another who only played trombone, and two others were dazzling their fingers on keyboards, which they traded for another trombone and a trumpet at times. They were all shrouded in a sea of that wax smoke that it almost looked like the stage was on fire. In some ways it was. And the crowd also. Including four girls who were dancing on their apartment’s balcony overlooking the stage across the street. With the general atmosphere brought about by the foggy skies, and the loudness of the music, just being there fell in the ‘feel good’ department. The show ended at around 23h20, after two (or three?) curtain calls (so to speak, they were more like beer calls ). If I remember well, Adamus was also there last year but at the time I didn’t know who he was.

Below is a studio session done for a popular Radio-Canada radio show dedicated to ‘emerging’ music. The first song, ‘Diligence’ is the one that they were playing soon after I got on the site. The sousaphone here is replaced by an upright cello bass, the drums are minimal, I don’t see any keyboards, but the essential is there. Something vaguely East-European. Slightly ROM. And pretty much Montreal, I’d dare to say. In the sense that I don’t think this kind of music could sprout elsewhere in Canada. We saw the same with Arcade Fire, and other groups of the kind.

When I first saw them on that stage with that huge sousaphone and playing that music, I thought I had suddenly landed in the middle of a Fellini movie.

I you like trombone and banjo, have a look at the third song (8m13s). It’s called Brun [la couleur de l'amour] (Brown [the color of love])

The language of those songs makes them a modern version of what we used to call in French “chansons paillardes” (ribald, bawdy, libertine maybe?)

The usual game

Notwithstanding that if there’s an area where heads of states blatantly lie in each other’s face without even cracking a smile it sure is the spying business, it still remains that China and Russia probably didn’t appreciate at all that the U.S. has been spying at large on their citizens. They won’t say it upfront, of course, but there are diplomatic tricks that will get the message across just as effectively. Like suddenly finding some documents to be ‘incomplete’. Or refusing to make an exception when there’s no extradition treaty in place. On the the other end of this tug-of-war, the message will be very well understood but still the same they will play the offended virgins. Business as usual, in this department.

Balls, balls, balls

I went to Milano’s on Thursday and noticed something new in the specialty pastas department (read expensive ). They are little balls the size or peppercorns, and of different colors between light yellow and light brown. I had never seen these things nor did I know if they were pasta or not. Since the were shelved with other fancy pastas of the Rustichella brand, I figured they must be. The price at 7,29$ for 500g was anything but as astounding as this discovery. . I wrote the info on a piece of paper with the firm intention to check it out once back home.

Well, they are a specialty of south-western Sardinia. Do you know someone who comes from south-western Sardinia? I do.

These pellets are called fregula sarda which means Sardinian fregula. Now what is fregula you may ask? Gee, I asked myself that same question but found it more reliable to ask it to Google who told me that Wikipedia was in the knowing. That’s where I learned that this special pasta would have been imported [to Sardinia] by Ligurian immigrants come from the Genoese colony of Tabarka in Tunisia. That’s a strange course. Maybe they shipwrecked on their way back to their former home. Before or after, another Genoan sold his services to a Spanish queen and came back, him from the Americas, with tomatoes which incidentally crave to be saucy in the company of fregula pasta and clams.

Wandering mind

While walking to Milano (see previous section) I started to reflect on the abbreviation PM. Which means I’m overly curious or overly bored. For those using a 12 hour clock system, it is widely used to mean “Post Meridiem”, or simply put, “afternoon”, stretched to its limits up to 23h59. It occured to me that it could, and this covering the same period of time, be also a diminutive for Post Mortem, aka a period of time used to reflect on all which one could have done in the pre-PM period (affectionately called ‘morning’) and which one neglected to do for a bunch of reasons which we’ll conveniently regroup under the designation ‘procrastination’.

I always had trouble remembering what procrastination meant. For some reason, I always thought it meant some kind of castration of the mind. Which brings me to a typically Canadian ‘other’ meaning for PM. It stands for Prime Minister, although that in the current situation, the one holding this job is anything but prime. He’s more on the dinausorian side of things. And, to top it off, his almost criminal negation of human-generated climate change and obliteration of those who say otherwise can only be the work of someone having a castrated mind.

Update June 30 – PM

Two extra meanings for PM: Pre-Moving and Post-Moving.

The annual movers’ pas de deux has begun. I’ve seen two or three moving vans close to my place, of them one for the pyromaniac neighbor in the back ^[*]. Those moving today are the lucky ones. Their new dwelling is ready to occupy, be it another rented apartment or condo, or a freshly constructed new one. Tomorrow will be another story. Quite often, those who move will find that those who lived in their new dwelling have not vacated the premises yet, waiting for their moving apparatus, whether it’s a professional company or a friend’s trailer. . Or those who lived there have to put their stuff on the sidewalk until their own truck arrives. Or civility kicks in and the new dwellers permit the old dwellers to stash all their stuff in one room, in the meantime (when this happens, you can replace ‘mean’ here with ‘beer’). One way or the other, all this buzzing activity is preferably done on a sunny day rather than a rainy one, needless to say. This year will bring along a little extra fun. The residential contruction industry is currently on strike (since 2 weeks) which means that those newly built condos with a tight delivery schedule may just not be ready for July 1st. In a case like this, the new dwellers have a priority, and the old dwellers just have to find some way to live until their newly built dwelling is delivered.

All I can say is that here on July 1st, if you see someone who is moving and is holding a Canadian flag near his face, it is not at all to kiss it, but more so to wipe away the sweat on his/her face. But this is irrelevant since very few people in Montreal own a Canadian flag. And that’s regardless of their political beliefs. As a rule of thumb, Francophones don’t have any. Generally, for the Anglophones, those who have a mast in their yard to put it on own one. The others go to the Old Port on Canada Day where the federal government distributes them free, by the ton, and which they discard soon after. All in all, there’s about just the immigrants who are willing to buy one with their own money. I exagerate? Maybe, but so little. Really. Viva Can-a-Duh!

Today is sunny, and the same expected tomorrow. That’s good news for those moving.

^[*] One of the neighbors facing my building in the back was a Latino family, with two very young children. Their rented condo was just above ground level, with a rear patio/balcony which I can directly see from mine, but that dwelling was not that big for a family of four so I guess it’s why they moved. The man in that family was the one doing the cooking. And for him, cooking meant BBQ. Almost year-round. And latino style. He used one of those round charcoal briquettes BBQ, the type you light after generously wetting them with lighting fluid. The flame(s) then produced can be one meter high and last a minute or two. This all by itself is dangerous in an urban environment, let alone on a balcony with three others above it. But what made matters worse is that this guy did not think that heavy gusty winds was sufficient reason to make something different for supper. Once, when it was awfully windy, the flames almost kissed the bottom of the balcony above. And the guy was inside, not even watching after his hell machine. — I see that the new neighbors are already here. You can tell they are probably students: young guys, an elderly white-haired man helping them, and a two-wheel trailer containing basic furniture.

Diane Dufresne, circa 1973
Dans une ruelle quelque part dans l’est de Montréal
In a back alley somewhere in east end Montreal

Above

Front side of album À part de d’ça, j’me sens ben released in 1973, where Diane Dufresne appears with her breasts in the nude except for a body painted t-shirt reproducing the Québec flag. Dufresne in a May 20, 1978 interview to Le Devoir: «I wore a fleur de lys [lily flower] on my breasts because I wanted it to be the closest possible to my heart». The posing bystanders, of which many children, are residents of the area where the pic was taken. On our talk show “Tout le monde en parle”, she mentioned that the original photoshoot was set in the countryside in the midst of black flies, so they decided to move to more hospitable grounds.

Eternals

Some songs are called eternals because they are ageless. You can listen to them decades and decades later and they haven’t gathered a single wrinkle. Some of them also double as classics in the sense that they are so universally known that they have become akin to household words. Such a song is “Ordinaire” composed by Québec’s first true rocker, on lyrics by Mouffe, his female companion of the time. That time is 1970. Charlebois, like many others at the time, went to California for three months in 1968 and came back transformed. You can truly say he rocked Québec’s boat. This song however is more in the introspection rather than rock side of things. This recent performance, forty years later and sung by an aging Charlebois, seems like it could have been written yesterday, so much it was ahead of its time. Diane Dufresne, who was participating in the same show, made a cameo appearance, adding her own verse at some point. I did not understand the ending of the last sentence of that verse and it being an ad hoc performance, there is no trace of it anywhere on the net, hence the question mark.

Note: the song starts at 2 min 32 sec. (lyrics below)

ORDINAIRE
Music Robert Charlebois Lyrics: Mouffe

Ordinary…

In 1970, Charlebois also went to Rome to sing, in duo with Italian pop star Patty Pravo (Nicoletta Strambelli), a well-known poem by Arthur Rimbaud, «Sensation», written by Rimbaud when he was 16, and for which Charlebois had composed the music. The poem itself was adapted to Italian by Sergio Bardotti and the song was called «La Solitudine». Videos of both are available on the net via the links below. But this is not my immediate motive to mention this. It’s because, by one of those surprises that leave you mouth wide open, I stumbled by pure accident on a version of «Ordinaire» sung in Italian, and by Charlebois himself. Needless to say a version I had no clue even existed. All I can figure is that it was probably recorded during that same trip to Rome.

So for our friend in Wenduine, and other Italians out there, here is «NORMALE» :

Links for “Sensation” and “La Solitudine”. I won’t even try to translate a Rimbaud poem. Maybe there’s one out there on the net.

Sensation [FR] http://youtu.be/fjzlT_x0LaY
La Solitudine [IT] http://youtu.be/CQRSfsgn7Js –

Passages

Nelson Mandela is dying. Sad news, although not unexpected, considering his age and especially the hard life he had.

I remember having gone to see him, with thousands of other Montrealers, when he came here not long after having been released from jail. At the time he was persona non grata in the States, where he was considered a terrorist. The then Canadian government, although a Conservative one, was one of the world leaders in promoting the abolishment of apartheid in South Africa, against the will of some other powerful countries I won’t name. If it would happen today, with the current cromagnons and creationist federal government we have, he’d be left to rot in jail until the end of times. Is is worth mentioning that the then Prime-Minister, Brian Mulroney, was a Quebecer, while the current cromagnon is a proud tar-sands-lovin’ Albertan? Maybe not. Then again, maybe yes, for once. Ok, maybe twice.

Duh [almost]

Speaking of those cromagnons whose Canadian base is Calgary, Alberta, they must feel that God hates them these days. After all, since they took power in Ottawa in 2003, they have been steadily active in making sure that any federally funded outfit, research scientists included, would either be dismantled or fired or menaced to be if they dared to go against their dogmas that global warming is a fairy tale, that tar sands are a benefit for the planet and that human activity, especially economic activity, has nothing to do with climate change, if such change really exists. I gather of this that a logical conclusion would then be that if things go wrong, it can only be an ‘act of God’, as the jurists suavely put it.

Well, these days, southern Alberta is under water up to its eyeballs, even including large sections of their sacred city, Calgary. Their Premier talks of an economic disaster. Me thinks that some of them must think that God’s ‘intelligent design’ may have a few flaws. Well, gosh, how can I put this… are we supposed to be sympathetic?

Rue Notre-Dame – Vieux Montréal – 2013.05.15

Above

We’ve got a few of those weirdos too. Our American side I guess.

The joke of the day

The American government, which through the NSA and other organisations, has been conducting an unprecedented worldwide espionnage operation on the citizens of this planet, is charging whistle-blower Edward Snowden for espionage. I’m not too sure what English word can best describe the absurdity of this situation.

Job opportunity

I need a medical secretary. This month alone I had to show up at one appointment with my surgeon, one appointment with my hepatologist, one appointment with a urologist, one appointment with my personal doctor, three blood sucking sessions, one call to my local health services center to make sure I can get my back bandage replaced if ever I drive east to see my mother in July, all this knowing that Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings I have to stay home to have said bandage replaced, and Monday and Wednesday afternoons I have to go downtown for my physiotherapy and ergonomy treatments, plus one extra treatment relating to forearm/fingers sensitivity (with an extra one on July 4), plus thinking about renting a car for said trip to the East, let alone deciding dates for such, and feeding daily the downstairs shrimp while my neighbors are gone to Finland, and the same weekly for my inside plants. Somewhere in there I have to plug in some time for personal hygiene and feeding my body. Comes to think of it, if I had pets on top of that, it would kill me quicker than a hospital nasty bacteria.

Blog? Oh yeah, that blog!

In view of the above, and if I do travel back east around the 6th of July, I may have a little problem with the aftermath of Xanga’s funeral. Squarely put, I didn’t have the time (or resolve) to adress this issue and my current Plan B comes July 16th can be summed up in one word: Geez! Although I don’t have a clue how it works, I’ve reserved a little place in my heart for WordPress. I just hope this prospected love is not just a one-way affair.

Milestones

A few days ago, I went to Marché Jean-Talon to get some stuff. I needed to go also to my 2nd closest supermarket (± 400 meters from my pad). That would have meant a 20-minute walk, at least, just to get there. I checked the BIXI stations, many bikes were available so I picked one, put my stuff in the front tray and left.

It sounds like nothing put like that, but it was the first time since last summer that I used a BIXI. After all I’ve been through, it may not have been a giant step for mankind, but it sure was one for me. Especially that I still have pain and numbness in my left hand. Summer can now officially start.

Fête Nationale

Monday, June 24, is Québec’s National Day. As I’m sure I’ve explained before, “national” here does not mean “country” but “nation in the French meaning of the word”. It is also called by some “La Saint-Jean” or “La Saint-Jean Baptiste” because St John the Baptist was the saint patron of French-Canadians long before Canada even became a country (somewhat, in 1867). He is still the patron saint of French Canadians living west of Québec, essentially because they have the same origins. In the east, the Acadian, a separate people, have their own patron saint and National Day (August 15). Of course, for many Quebecers including me, we still hope that one day “national” will also refer to its English meaning.

The party has already begun in day-care centers and schools. Today I could see toddlers coming back home with the blue “fleur de lys” painted on their face, and there was loud music this afternoon coming from a nearby school. But it’s Monday that most events will happen (in Montreal). Of course there are the big mega-events, but also a lot of community gatherings around the city, some larger, some smaller in people’s yards. This is made possible because on June 24, by law, no one can be forced to work. Therefore, except for small business outfits run by their owner, the city is for all purposes closed to business. It also means that supermarkets and wine stores are closed like everything else. So one has to prepare accordingly in the preceding days.

I also have to fetch my small Québec flags from storage and install them here and there on my balconies. Until July 2. Them being there on July 1 is even more important than on June 24. I should stop saying that the current Canada (since 1840 in fact) means nothing to me because in fact it does mean something. And it’s not pretty, that’s all I can say (without becoming vulgar).

Rock & Roll & Blues & Gerry

I seldom (if ever) had to post the French lyrics along with a French song, but this one is in Québec slang and for Europeans it probably sounds like Chinese. The lead singer is the late Gerry Boulet and the group is Offenbach, the best rock & blues group ever in Québec’s history. The first song is of course a cover of Georgia on my mind. No need to present that one.

CÂLINE DE BLUES
Lyrics: Pierre Harel/Gerry Boulet
Music: M. Lamothe

Câline de doux blues
Câline de blues
Faut que j’te jouse…

For European French speakers:
câline -> variante politiquement correcte (avant le temps) du juron québécois “câlice”. Ces jurons sont appelés ‘sacres’ probablement parce qu’ils sont issus pour beaucoup des rituels de la religion catholique (pour des raisons historiques). On dit aussi “arrête de sacrer” à quelqu’un qui les utilise trop ou dans un contexte inconvenant.
jouse -> joue
sacré l’camp -> foutu le camp

For anglo-saxons:
câline like all québécois swearwords is untranslatable. Contrary to the anglos who litter their language with ‘fuck’ and its variations, the number of swearwords in Quebec (and French Canada also) boggles the mind, especially that each one also can be used as an adjective, an exclamation, a verb, and so on… ‘Câline’ is a socially acceptable variation of “câlice” which is a chalice.

Tentative translation in English

Darn sweet blues
Darn blues
I must play youz
{repeat}

Darn sweet blues
Darn blues
I must play youz

Technically, for rhyming purposes, it should be ‘jealouz’.

2013.06.13

Above

No need to call the City and ask permission to reserve parts of a residential street when moving. This is how it’s done, preferably late in the day before the move, and preferably also with dangling posters mentioning reason of such. This is high moving season in Montreal, with its peak on July 1, also known as Canada Day. For most Montrealers, those moving or helping those who do, at least, Canada Day sums up to sweat, back pain, pizza and a case of beer. For those not moving, it’s mostly a day off although open businesses are anything but a rarity.

Kling-Ker-Klang

Monday, I met Oscar. He’s very lively. He’s also very dead. My physiotherapist wanted to show me ‘de visu’ what the exercises she wanted me to do would do to the two long bones in my left forearm, in permitting them to twist on themselves. So what better way to show how those bones articulate than to show them in all their glory. Oscar is a lifesize squeleton. Since he’s got no tendons nor muscles, and frankly is as dry as the Mojave desert, when you touch him the whole thing starts to rattle with a clanging sound like those rattlers that the lepers used in the good old days when they starred in biblical films with Charlton ‘NRA or die’ Heston. All I can say is that an image is indeed worth a thousand words. Now I know how those two bones work when you turn your forearm on itself to send the finger.

LE MUR DU SON (THE SOUND BARRIER)
by Robert Charlebois
1972

Give the note that will make
All the universe sing in unison
We will cease to be mortals
To at last become eternal
Eternal…
Eternal…

Coitus interruptus

Benji Netanyahou is not happy. Not at all. I’d even go as to say that he is pissed. He has been working for years to build some kind of support for an Israeli attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities. Now those Iranian party poopers have sent the overexcited Ahmadinejad back to his formol jar and elected someone who passes for moderate and, oh sacrilege, even says he’d deal with the Americans. BenYamin just doesn’t take it.

Blimps galore

Google is working on a project that would send a carload of balloons in the stratosphere so as to offer rapid internet connections to isolated or poorly served regions. Excluding any philantropic motivations (we’re talking about Google here), the question that pops up is “Why?”. They are testing this new system in and over New Zealand, basically because it’s in the middle of nowhere so if it is screws up, the damage won’t spread, and also because NZ is part of the anglophone world which would make things easier. At least that’s what I read in an Agence France-Presse article from its correspondent in Wellington, NZ, and which I won’t bother linking here since it’s in French, therefore not GoogleStratosphere compatible.