I’ve never listened to a Lady Gaga song in my entire life.

Mon pays, ce n’est pas un pays, c’est l’hiver.

Me too, Sad Referendum Guy, me too.

Give us a majority to avoid coalition: Harper

a) I would totally drive up to DC to go to this.

b) I’m coming dressed as a redcoat.

I for reals just emailed this article to my neurologist.

I support this, James Carville.

coketalk:

I’ve been walking around with a sense of impending doom all day. For those of you who recognize symptoms, that basically means I’m in the middle of a low-level anxiety attack. Good times.

My rational mind knows there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the world, but part of my brain is still just a small woodland creature, and that furry little bitch is going bonkers while drowning in bugfuck juice.

Ugh. It’s a bizarre thing to mentally process your own neurochemical shit show. This would be a perfectly legitimate time for a Xanax, but I have the short-sighted tendency to use those for recreational rather than medicinal purposes.

I used to know so many crazy bitches with Klonopin, but alas, now there’s only vodka, and that’s not a habit I want to start. I draw the line at consciously self-medicating with happy hour.

I know there’s nothing I can do. I just have to ride it out. Thing is, I have a business engagement this evening where I have to look fabulous and be witty.

I hope the conversation stays light. Otherwise I’ll start dropping neurotic bombs about population density and economic collapse, and I’ll have everybody swallowing their own tongues before the second round of martinis.

coketalk is like reading my inner monologue’s tumblr.

These news specials and documentaries are bringing up mixed feelings.

Part of me recalls the memories, frustration, unhappy drinking and isolation.

Part of me thinks that these five years have been the city’s finest hour.

La patère rose : Waikiki teaser

lilyna:

Françoise Hardy - La Rue des coeurs perdus

French version of Ricky Nelson’s sad ballad featured on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, Lonesome Town

azizisbored:

Very honored to join the company of previous performers such as Bill Cosby, Mitch Hedberg, Dave Chappelle, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and Jabawockees.

Click the link above for tickets/info.

Seriously thinking about driving 7 hours to see Aziz Ansari.

AIR - Venus

The Harper government: HARD AT WORK.

Someone who works in the House of Commons thinks that Canada was built on cold pizza.  Voltaire, this person is not.

The more I dig around the activities of federal government IT resources being used for partisan and (clearly) inappropriate purposes, the sadder I become.

Among the things I’m finding: Someone in the House of Commons really, really doesn’t like Navdeep Bains, and really, really likes Lisa Raitt.

Interesting.

Oh hey, look what I started:

An investigation has been ordered into the latest incident of Wikipedia mischief after someone using a federal government computer altered the online encyclopedia’s English entry on Canada’s Official Languages Act to rebrand it “Quebec’s Nazi Act.”

Public Safety Minister Vic Toews ordered the investigation after the alteration was traced to a computer at federal Correctional Services headquarters in Ottawa.

The minister was alerted to the prank by Quebec Liberal MP Denis Coderre, who was himself alerted by a Twitter user who spotted the modification.

Peace, order, and good government, you guys.

Jean Charest’s name continues to be mud. A new Leger Marketing poll suggests 57 per cent of Quebecers believe the premier should step down. Though this may sound like good news for the Parti Québécois, which would likely win an election tomorrow afternoon, the same poll says Quebecers have about the same regard for PQ leader Pauline Marois. What’s more, 40 per cent of respondents say they are undecided, suggesting a wide-ranging malaise with politicians in general throughout the province. Indeed, an Angus Reid poll suggests more voters believe former Justice Minister Marc Bellemare’s allegations of favouritism in the selection of judges—even though Bellemare himself has contradicted himself many times.

The péquistes have an innate ability to fall, and fall to the right ever since the ‘95 referendum.  Where’s the PQ that I respected for its progressivism and social democracy?  What are the odds of Gilles Duceppe retiring from federal politics to come save this sinking leaky ship?

“I always wondered what “épopée” meant in the national anthem. Now I know.”

(via @fagstein, @zaptele)

jaimenumero:

Peut-être qu’on a raté le jour où le clip d’un groupe électronique populaire a influencé l’habillage d’une série télé britannique. Une série qui parle d’un groupe de jeunes désobéissants qui ont écopé d’une peine de travaux d’intérêt général et qui traînent dans les rues d’une banlieue miteuse. Des jeunes qui n’ont pas (indice) des blousons de cuir (fin de l’indice) mais des combinaisons Guantanamo style. La bande son de ce trailer est un autre indice en soi.

Ça s’appelle Misfits, ça passe sur E4.

?

As the Globe and Mail’s Lawrence Martin said last month (emphasis mine):

MP Irwin Cotler, a former justice minister, says that the trial will be the first of a child soldier in modern history and that such a trial is prohibited under international humanitarian law. Any thought that something like this might cause the Harper government to reconsider is, of course, risible. These honourable men rebuff their own high court verdicts. They rebuff the will of Parliament – when not shutting it down – on Afghan detainee documents. For them, international law is of trifling concern.

In the matter of Omar Khadr, the question is hardly complicated. You either support high standards of justice or you don’t. In the Khadr case, most Canadians, along with their government, do not. It’s a national disgrace.

whokilled:

All Allied land vechiles were required to have a white star painted on them during the Second World War. While the “Allied Star” was meant to represent and identify all the Allied vehiles, many of the Allies, and the Canadians in particular, resented it due to it obviously being an American symbol. Tank factories all over Canada purposely painted stars upside-down as a not so subtle “screw you” before employers were forced to threaten to fire their employees if they continued this practice. Once this practice was banned, Canadian soldiers painted Canadian maple leafs on the vechiles so that they would be recognized as Canadians first and Allied soldiers second. Seen here is Private J.D. Hamilton (one of my boys from the Highland Light Infantry) doing just that.

Not Canadian as in eh, but Canadian as in fuck you.

“Technically, (Wyclef Jean) shouldn’t be eligible because he hasn’t been a resident of Haiti,” Butler said. “And I think him not speaking French and not being fluent in Creole would be a really major issue in trying to run a really complex government, like the government in Haiti.

“It would kind of be like Arnold Schwarzenegger only speaking Austrian [German] and being elected president of the United States after New York City and L.A. had burned to the ground.”

“I think he is a great musician and he really passionately cares about Haiti. I really hope he throws his support behind someone who is really competent and really eligible.”

Treme, The Wire actor turns activist

(via CNN)

lilyna:

Claude Dubois - Femmes de rêve

I can’t help but put on Quebec’s music…This is one of the many songs written about the “irresistible, biking everywhere and smiling at you” Montreal ladies 

thepoliticalpartygirl:

brooklynmutt:

Ummm PPG. Go Get Her!

Who hijacked the term “feminist?” You did, Sarah.

And I will fight you to the death for it.

“Mama grizzly” =/= feminist.

The “college(s)” Sarah Palin attended should have their accreditation revoked.  Even the University of Phoenix has produced more capable minds.  And spellers.

Went to the grocery store to buy some chocolate milk and wine.

The young-ish cashier commented that I had chosen an odd combination of drinks to purchase.

I replied that I was buying breakfast and left it at that.

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Somebunny’s still butthurt over the Super Bowl…

Get off my lawn.

It makes just as much sense in 2010 as it did in 2002.

joualamour:

Artist in Montreal

• Jean Palardy,
• 1954,
• 29 min 33 s
• In English.

This short film introduces us to the automatistes, followers of an abstract art form that developed in Montreal. The movement, initiated by Paul-Émile Borduas, is explained by the artists themselves when narrator Bruce Ruddick drops in at their cooperative studio. The films also captures painter Paterson Ewen at his home and joins the crowd at L’Échouerie, the artists’ rendezvous spot. Dr. Robert Hubbard, chief curator of the National Gallery of Canada, comments on non-objective art in general and automatism in particular.

From Captain George Vancouver to Muriel “Curve of Time” Blanchet to Jim “Spilsbury’s Coast” Spilsbury, visitors to Desolation Sound have left behind a trail of books endowing the area with a romantic aura that helps to make it British Columbia’s most popular marine park. In this hilarious and captivating book, CBC personality Grant Lawrence adds a whole new chapter to the saga of this storied piece of BC coastline.

Young Grant’s father bought a piece of land next to the park in the 1970s, just in time to encounter the gun-toting cougar lady, left-over hippies, outlaw bikers and an assortment of other characters. In those years Desolation Sound was a place where going to the neighbours’ potluck meant being met with hugs from portly naked hippies and where Russell the Hermit’s school of life (boating, fishing, and rock ‘n’ roll) was Grant’s personal Enlightenment—an influence that would take him away from the coast to a life of music and journalism and eventually back again.

With rock band buddies and a few cases of beer in tow, an older, cooler Grant returns to regale us with tales of “going bush,” the tempting dilemma of finding an unguarded grow-op, and his awkward struggle to convince a couple of visiting kayakers that he’s a legit CBC radio host while sporting a wild beard and body wounds and gesticulating with a machete. With plenty of laugh-out-loud humour and inspired reverence, Adventures in Solitude delights us with the unique history of a place and the growth of a young man amidst the magic of Desolation Sound.

caraobrien:

1. Be willing to back up your statements with facts - or at least some pretty sound reasoning. 
2. Don’t expect them to respect you or your viewpoints just because you say so. INTJ respect must be earned.
3. Be willing to concede when you are wrong. The average INTJ respects the truth over being “right”. Withdraw your erroneous comment and admit your mistake and they will see you as a very reasonable person. Stick to erroneous comments and they will think you are an irrational idiot and treat everything you say as being questionable. 
4. Try not to be repetitive. It annoys them.
5. Do not feed them a line of bull.
6. Expect debate. INTJs like to tear ideas apart and prove their worthiness. They will even argue a point they don’t actually support for the sake of argument.
7. Do not mistake the strength of your conviction with the strength of your argument. INTJs do not need to believe in a position to argue it or argue it well. Therefore, it will take more than fervor to sway them. 
8. Do not be surprised at sarcasm.
9. Remember that INTJs believe in workable solutions. They are extremely open-minded to possibilities, but they will quickly discard any idea that is unfeasible. INTJ open-mindedness means that they are willing to have a go at an idea by trying to pull it apart. This horrifies people who expect oohs and ahhs and reverence. The ultimate INTJ insult to an idea is to ignore it, because that means it’s not even interesting enough to deconstruct. This also means that they will not just accept any viewpoint that is presented to them. The bottom line is “Does it work?” - end discussion. 
10. Do not expect INTJs to actually care about how you view them. They already know that they are arrogant bastards with a morbid sense of humor. Telling them the obvious accomplishes nothing.

via

Not to be one of those people that are like “OMFG I am SO an INTJ!!”, but I really am an INTJ.  Every single point applies to me.  Ask the people I’ve been friends with - they’ll confirm.

My MacBook’s keys and mouse trackpad are doing weird, phantom things.

For instance, tapping my trackpad made my browser do a time warp through the first 20 pages of the Tumblr Dashboard.  And my keyboard sometimes switches to the French/Swiss French layout, instead of the Canadian/U.S. layout.

And I think the screen is fading.  After 18 months!

I’m expecting it to be sent to the intensive care unit at Apple HQ at any moment.

The Bloc can be proud. But credit for impressive separatist performances should also go to the Bloc’s silent partner, the Quebec Liberal Party. The Liberals, under Robert Bourassa, Claude Ryan, Daniel Johnson Jr. and now Mr. Charest, created the conditions for the separatist parties to surge.

Anyone who doubts this symbiotic relationship need only consult the QLP’s website. There, the Liberals explain the eight values that define their party: individual freedoms, identification with Quebec, economic development, social justice, respect for civil society, democracy a hallmark of political action, intergenerational equity, and ties to Canada.

So one might expect a celebration of federalism as a fundamental value that distinguishes the QLP from the separatists, not to mention an appreciation of Quebec’s participation in Canada, the country recognized as among the most socially developed on Earth. But there’s not a single word of praise for Canada or federalism in the 2,260-word essay. Nowhere is Canada recognized as the country of Quebeckers.

The section Ties to Canada deals exclusively with the Quebec Liberal Party’s conflicts with the Canadian government. Here are examples of the party’s boasts: “In 1970 [really in 1971], under Robert Bourassa, it refused to endorse the Victoria Charter because it did not respond to the proposals put forward by Quebec concerning the division of jurisdiction in areas of social policy.

The Victoria Charter was also marked the slow death of Quebec’s veto.  It took another 11 years to stab it the back (figuratively speaking, about René Lévesque).

To be fair, Premier Bourassa was very much a Quebec nationalist, and only supported the federal government when it was politically expedient to do so (or under apprehended insurrection). Capital-F-Federalist, he was not.

In 1997, it opposed the reference to the Supreme Court by Ottawa on secession, arguing that the constitutional future of Quebec was above all a political question that must be resolved in Quebec.

I agree.  Sovereignty should be decided and designed at the provincial level, not in Ottawa; it makes more sense, constitutionally.

In 1998, it opposed Bill C-20 [the Clarity Act], which imposed on Quebec rules that excessively restrained the province in the area of constitutional referendums.”

I view the Clarity Act as a means to an end, not an end to our means.  Somewhat unintentionally, it provides the exact requirements for sovereignty; it sets the goalposts “we” (or “they”) cannot move any more.  We’re a nation of laws and a nation of logicism.  If we don’t like a certain law, we fight it in the courts; and if we can’t win in the courts, we take it to the ballot box.  Now we know where we’re going.  We’re not sitting in front of René at 2 a.m. asking “what is a question?”

In other words, the QLP asserts the right to secede unilaterally from Canada. The Supreme Court be damned when it finds otherwise. And the QLP perpetuates an urban myth: “In 1981, in extremely difficult circumstances, the Liberal Opposition in the National Assembly joined with the PQ government of that time to say no to the unilateral patriation of the Constitution that was being planned.”

It’s been endlessly repeated by politicians and pundits that the National Assembly voted unanimously to oppose the 1982 Canada Act that patriated the Constitution and created the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. It’s totally untrue.

Canada’s shining bank regulatory system cannot be counted on to shield the country from an impending economic buffeting, renowned U. S economist Paul Krugman told the Canadian Bar Association on Sunday.

Mr. Krugman said that Canada cannot be complacent in the face of disturbingly bleak global conditions, because Canadians spend too much relative to their household incomes and the country’s housing bubble has yet to burst.

Canadian housing prices did not take off in the mid-2000s the way they did in the United States and Europe, Mr. Krugman said, but neither did they come down sharply during the recession, as they did elsewhere in the Western world.

As a result, real estate values in the U.S. have a “green light,” while those in Canada, are “verging on red.”

And in one blow to the jaw (of John Baird), Paul Krugman single-handedly destroyed every Conservative Party talking point since the 2008 election.

I wonder what Maxime Bernier has to say about this.

Arcade Fire - Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)

I was going to post this eventually, you know…

Gatineau est présentement en train de faire le prochain disque. Plusieurs chansons et plusieurs pistes sont en préparations. Le groupe entre officiellement en studio en octobre. L’album verra le jour en janvier. Une tournée suivra.

!!!

Sometimes a stranger will enter your life (in my case, a neuropsychologist) and drop a truth bomb on you so massive that it consumes your every waking (and sleeping) moment for days on end. This doctor, who had known me for only ten minutes, spent the next 14 hours over two days administering every IQ, psychological, cognitive function, anxiety/depression scales known to modern medicine.  Fortunately for me, I “passed.”

But most of the time was spent figuring out why I’ve been suffering from depression and anxiety all of the time.  Why I’m never truly happy.  Why I can’t sleep at night.  Why I’m not working in my chosen hobby and career field.  We went on for hours, sparring back and forth, trying to outsmart each other - though in my case it was purely a defence mechanism.  And what did we learn?

My first real onset of severe depression started when some of my dearest family members started dying off, and I was stuck in Boston, missing funerals and goodbyes and being alone in my drafty apartment with my kitten.  I finally came out of my slump with the help of understanding friends and the most amazing doctors.  But I came to the conclusion that I needed a change of scenery for a semester or two.  That’s how I ended up in Oklahoma for a few months.

I switched majors from political science/political economy to photography.  I wanted nothing more than to pursue my passion in the fine arts.  Most of the faculty were great, but symptoms of epilepsy and other fun neurological tics started to reappear (which we now know was the onset of my current, much more major problems).  My doctors advised me to ask for “reasonable accommodation” I was eligible for under federal statue.  They provided me with all of the documentation needed and I visited the university’s ADA coordinator.  They didn’t seem to care.  They took my file of information and just sort of threw it in a box.  Sensing that they didn’t really give a shit (and it being in super-conservative Oklahoma), I visited my academic dean to see about any accommodation or help.  Instead, he offered me vodka and asked me out to a blues club for some drinks.

When I turned him down, politely, my grades within his department tanked. Instantly.  Finally in April, despite days upon days of hard work determined to get an A and pass all of my classes, my dean invited me back to his office.  He gave me two choices: I could either withdraw from the university immediately or he would flunk me and recommend my expulsion.  I tried to take my case to the university president, or fuck, anyone who would listen.  Nobody cared.  I was let known that this was entirely because I actually sought accommodation and they were afraid I’d have a seizure and become a liability.  Oh, and I turned down an offer for drinks with a heavy sexual overtone from one of my professors.

Not wanting to be expelled and have my entire university experience rendered obsolete, I withdrew and left for Boston.

I spent $15,000 out of pocket for a withdrawal semester, inappropriate behaviour from my dean and practices that certainly violated the ADA.  I still owe another $3100 to pay off.  And ever since then, I haven’t pursued photography, once my obsession.  I rarely take photographs anymore; I rarely paint or sketch. All of this was the cause of my second major depressive episode.  And because my neuropsychologist was able to pinpoint this, I haven’t rested properly in days.  It makes me terribly angry and terribly sad.

So thanks Oklahoma City University.  Thanks for ruining my life.

(via inothernews)

Take a look at those fists. Left hands, am I right?

The raised fist (also known as the clenched fist) is a salute and logo most often used by left-wing activists, such as Marxists, anarchists, socialists, communists, pacifists, trade unionists, and black nationalists. The raised fist is usually regarded as an expression of solidarity, strength or defiance. It dates back to the salute of Rotfrontkämpferbund, a paramilitary organization of the Communist Party of Germany before the WWII.

Tea Party ‘Patriots’: The people that flunked the required Civics/Citizenship and World History classes back in high middle school.

Ludwig van Beethoven - Symphony No.7 In a Major Op.92 (Allegretto)

Put on a pair of decent headphones, crank the volume past 10 and sit back and daydream.

ohno-megan:

here’s a little canadian east coast history for you.

here’s a little acadien humour for you.

The 1984 Liberal leadership convention.  I have a photo of my mother and I with Pierre Trudeau, and I vaguely remember a dinner with Jean Chrétien, his wife, and my family in some steakhouse.

Attention Montréal friends and foes! My old CISM shirt (above) was “borrowed” by a ladyfriend (*cough*), so I need a new one. If you can pick up a size large/grande, I will totally PayPal you the cost plus shipping to Florida. And I might send back a ‘Floribecois’ gift of appreciation.

Merci d’avance tout l’monde!

ohno-megan:

Poutine!

Auto reblog part two - this time with less flash.

Two things right off:

• Bill McCollum is a Republican.
• His opponent Rick Scott (also a Republican), is best known for preaching fiscal responsibility and restraint after stealing $1.7 billion dollars from the federal government, closing hospitals and laying off workers (“let’s get to work YOU GUISE!”), and for being on television telling the Fox News demographic that Canadian health care is worse than the Soviet Union under Stalin.

Both candidates are in a tough primary race, but they’ve just now starting playing the race card, although Rick Scott has been pushing for Arizona-style immigration laws and repealing the 14th Amendment for well over a month or two.

(Note: I would not be an American citizen if it wasn’t for the 14th Amendment.)

These guys are supreme assholes, it goes without saying.  The question is exactly how racist this battle of attrition will become.  This being Florida, nothing will surprise me.  But if one of these fucking children becomes governor, I’m the fuck out of this state.  I can put up with a lot, but I draw the line at states overstepping their constitutional jurisdiction because some unemployed, under-medicated and uneducated lady on Facebook says so.

Gun control.  Massive investment in education from cradle to university.  Celebrating multiculturalism.  Raising tax levels to the Clinton era.  (Or fuck, let’s pull an Eisenhower!)  I know Florida is one of those de jure English-only states despite the obvious reality of it being a de facto bilingual state (and in Miami/Broward, trilingual), but until I pick up a copy of the constitution and read the imaginary conservative premature ejaculation wet dream about English-only in public, cultural genocide through evangelical assimilation and the part about having to carry proof of being in the country legally, everybody can fuck off and deal with my requests for services (and/or a translator) in French and that I’m a dual citizen who is exhausted of being a Canadian-American.

Despite the two of us having different views on Quebec’s position in Canada (if you ever read my academic writing on Quebec-Federal politics, we’re actually closer in logic than one might think); even if the ultimate goal is independence or sovereignty-association or increased autonomy for my home province (nation?), he’s by far the most honourable parliamentarian in Canada (somewhat ironically) and runs his party with such organization and gravitas that hasn’t been seen in federal politics since the years of Pierre Trudeau’s first mandate.

I don’t know if the dreams of a few million of my fellow Quebecers will ever be realized, but Duceppe is by far the best advocate for all of Quebec in the catacombs and corridors of official Ottawa.  And for that, he gets my utmost respect.

The moral of this story: Game recognizes game.

I started at [university name redacted] in 2004 as a transfer.  At first appearances, the campus looked great and there was a Starbucks (!) in the student lounge.  I was pursuing my major in the Fine Arts program, volunteering in several capacities, and even writing for the university newspaper.  Then everything went wrong, as one would expect from a Methodist-affiliated university.  For instance:

1. I had my newspaper contributions (on indie rock/grime/soca) heavily edited and redacted in their final versions.  I was charged with keeping the journalism program’s Macs working, and with covering night events with the super expensive miniDV 3CCD camcorder/still camera.  Eventually, after three weeks, I was fired because someone else forgot to put it back in the locked cabinet (he had his own key too, and was also responsible for its safe storage).
2. My program’s department chair (as well as a professor I had classes with 66% of the day, called me into his closed, locked office to have a chat.  Instead he offered to give me two new bottles of Grey Goose and asked me out to a blues club, and made it known that my grade would improve substantially if I went along.  When I refused all offers, my grades suffered enormously and he effectively ignored my participation in our History of Photography lectures, causing my final grade in that class to drop 10%.
3. For some easy cash, I was paid by the university to keep the darkroom in perfect working order.  Changing special lights, cleaning of all surfaces, precisely mixing and refilling developer and fixers, cleaning up strips of photo paper left by others, washing all chemical bath tubs, draining and refilling of the water drum, hanging student portraits that didn’t totally suck, fixing and recalibrating enlargers.  Not a tough job, but I’d always receive passive-aggressive notes the following day about something not being stacked correctly.  Hey, I had like 200 students to clean up after…shit happens.  And it’s not like anybody else was helping me out.
4. IT/ResNet/Whateveritscalled never gave me the password to my school email address until the day before I left.  It was, of course, filled with important notices from my professors that I had long missed.  It was immediately closed while I was replying to all of them with my personal email address.
5. When I visited the office of disabilities to provide proof from five different doctors and my lawyer that the ADA did and still does apply to me, the bored administrator said she’d look into it.  (AKA “Taking it seriously.”)  She never read those few statements, and my professors would only talk to her about it, which she never did…like Helen Keller.  I had to miss a lot of class time for doctors’ appointments and tests (and always made up the time by working on things in labs until 1am most nights), but since the disabilities advocate never performed her job correctly, I almost failed every class.
6. When the administration found out I was suffering from epilepsy (successfully controlled with medicine) and deep depression/anxiety (also on a medication for), they forced me to withdraw from the university with penalty (that’s putting it nicely), as it was “a conflicting circumstance” to Jesus or conservatism or whatever.  They didn’t even go through my balance (which was $0) at the registrar and the financial aid folks didn’t even do an “exit interview” with me, leaving me with absolutely no idea I owed $3000+ to the government (using the same figure as the registrar, of course), which I defaulted on, because NOBODY EVER TOLD ME OR SENT LETTERS OR MADE PHONE CALLS.
7. If I hadn’t been forced out I would have a BFA in Photography, on my way to an MFA and actually happy with how my life turned out.

Certain university, thanks for ruining my finances and credit report for the rest of my life, violating a civil rights statute and for employing older departmental deans trying to date/fuck me with the promise of vodka and an automatic “A” grade in his classes.