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Peeve Farm
Breeding peeves for show, not just to keep as pets
Brian Tiemann
Silicon Valley-based purveyor of a confusing mixture of Apple punditry and political bile.

btman at grotto11 dot com

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Little Green Footballs
As the Apple Turns
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Cold Fury
Capitalist Lion
Red Letter Day
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Monday, August 30, 2004
23:24 - How do these computor things work again?

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Well, I'm back from my annual bout of masochistic globetrotting, and boy am I glad to be home. And not just because I spent the plane trip weeding through my downloaded e-mail offline, to synchronize later, so I didn't have to do it as the first thing after falling in through the front door (well, second, the first being to attend to a dog whose initial reaction is Brian's home? WAAAALK!).

I mean, it's a fun event and all, and there are lots of great friends to catch up with, and Toronto's becoming as familiar to me as any other city I've spent any significant amount of time in; I'd say I know it at least as well as LA by now. But you know, there's really only so many jokes that I can listen to at an improv show that start out with the portentious word Florida as one of the seeds, and end with the inevitable surreal Bush imitations and dark guffaws about American culture. It's gotten to the point where it all feels like a sitcom where I know the writer from high school, and wasn't very impressed with what he wrote in my yearbook.

Highlights of the clench-teeth-and-smile variety include:

  • Guy hosting a small friendly burger barbecue (three or four friends) in a rural suburb of Toronto, randomly interrupting a nice rational discussion of Predator and Die Hard movies with a rant about pop culture (and once again I swear I hear the word "culture" more times during ten minutes in Canada than I do all month down here, and it always refers to some ominous apparition going booga-booga-booga from down South) that ended with him sticking a finger in my face and saying, "And that's why your country is going down the tubes." Um, thanks for the valuable insight, but if this is included in the price of a burger up here, I'll stick with the hot dogs, thanks.

  • An animated conversation about anime and five-man/sentai shows (e.g. Power Rangers and its myriad Japanese antecedents) in which one of my intrepid friends dared to suggest that such shows had their roots in Thunderbirds; the person on the other end of the conversation, an American visitor of the well-represented school of "Anything created by my country is evil and everything Japanese is God", reacted with shock, horror, and abject disbelief. "I'm gonna want to see some proof of that! I don't believe it... I don't want to believe it!" When it was pointed out that Thunderbirds was a British show and not an American one, she sat back on the couch and exhaled in profound relief. "Oh! That's okay then. I feel much better."

  • Endless sniffings from an old friend of mine from college who's ended up in this social circle, who is thoroughly taken with communist chic such as coffee shops done up in Che Guevara motifs and who uses terms like bourgeoisie and the masses and capitalist consumerist whores in casual conversation; they wear on me, somehow. And I know he's smart, too. First-hand. It's like watching a star athlete waste away on smack.

  • Watching Oscar-winning French-Canadian animated movies in which "Belleville" ("The Beautiful City", I get it, ho ho) is a sneering burlesque of New York, populated by dimwitted blimp-sized pedestrians, greedy gambling-besotted industrialists, and gargantuan cheeseburgers purveyed by bulbous and heartless dive waitresses under the beatific gaze of a morbidly obese Statue of Liberty bearing aloft a bowl of ice cream. And agéd Depression-era stage singers in their dotage eat frogs that they have killed with bombs. Hey, keep working on your experimental film, Strong Sad.

  • Spending the car trip there and back again with a couple of guys from Boston who, upon passing a Wal-Mart near Algonquin Park, flew into transports of righteous rage at what, in their words, is "everything that's wrong with corporate America, all wrapped up in one company". Maybe, maybe not. But my telekinetic abilities to prevent people from issuing growled complaints about the US to what they think is a receptive audience by simply sitting and concentrating with a constipated look on my face seems to be on the fritz.

  • Newspapers in the Toronto airport terminal on the way home tonight with gigantic-font headlines over pictures of cops wielding batons over mob scenes: Anti-Bush Forces Take New York! I'm not even slightly kidding.

    Oh, but I can only sigh and ruefully laugh. I mean, what harm can there be? What reason should I have to worry? Why not just go with the flow, suck it up, take it like a man? It builds character, right? I mean, I know as well as anyone that "Please do not knock the land that I love" is only cute when Apu says it. I know my place.

    I guess I just dunno. But I can't help but think that for a bunch of gay guys, very few of them would appreciate the irony that it wasn't until I was an American in Canada that I felt anywhere near as much like Tom Hanks in Philadelphia, obliged to sit and force a smile and endure faggot jokes from executive peers in the sauna.

    Anyway: Jiggety-jig, and all that. I've got some sleeping to catch up on.

    UPDATE: Oh yes... pursuant to the earlier-mentioned observations on airlines cancelling their in-flight meals as a cost-cutting measure and letting the airport concessions take up the slack (a trend the market seems well-poised to support), I have to note that America West's "pay on board" food service, where you order from a menu of pre-made meals and pay $5-7, is friggin awesome for airline food. Hot roast beef sandwich with fontina cheese, a bag of potato chips, and a gargantuan cookie, just as an example of something I liked so much I skipped eating in the airport so as to order it on two separate legs of the trip. It's a far cry from the turkey-slice-and-Dijonnaise-on-a-dinner-roll-and-a-minute-scrawny-apple-and-water-in-a-little-plastic-tub that passes for a "meal" on some airlines these days...

    UPDATE: I rather regret posting this; much of it really isn't fair, especially considering how good a time I had this past week, on the whole. I'm not in the habit of deleting things, so... I guess it would be best for everybody who's, um, already read this post to just sort of erase it from your neurons, or something.


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