A cover by any other design

Sometimes you are rewarded when mammalian instincts are ignored and you forge ahead and you just do it (please note: 100% not affiliated with the hugely successful 1990’s campaign slogan of an athletic shoe monolith based in Beaverton, Oregon). Because really, everyone makes a big do-up about our instincts, but on a case by case basis, our instincts are usually shite. What does your instincts tell you? Listen to your instincts. My instincts told me to inhale a bag of roasted pistachios last night and now I have first degree diarrhea. Let’s just say that I am not in a happy place.

Regardless, this is about Douglas Coupland’s Jpod, and not my battles with IBS. So, I ignored my initial repulsion to this book and bought it. Paid cash money for it, not borrowed, not loitered in some big box chain store and stealth-read it over the course of a few days. I thoroughly enjoyed two other Coupland offerings, Generation X and All Families are Psychotic, but I hesitated when I saw this in various window displays. It was purely on a superficial level, I very much un-liked the cover. As a former advertising and new media designer and current unpaid freelance critic of culture, it just smelled a tad ‘played out’. For the last few years, I have an immediate ‘puke-in-my-mouth’ reaction whenever I see the use of letters in front of words to display youthiness and or extreminosity — ‘i’ this or ‘e’ that. It blatantly screams, I was thought up by a group of 40 year olds in some corporate marketing brainstorming circle jerk. This is by no means a slur against 40 year old marketing professionals and or circle jerks, it is simply my personal disgust of their union and subsequent byproducts.

Published in 2006, this is the latest bastard offspring from German-born, Canadian-raised, corn-fed, free-ranged author Douglas Coupland. Coupland is also an accomplished sculptor, artist, designer, ironist, media critic, playwright, screenwriter and all around fun guy. Buddy wears a lot of hats, and they all seem to be slanted. Jpod seems to be the byproduct of Coupland’s diverse range of knowledge and talents. It reads more like a typographic art concept, rather than a conventional work of fiction. Which fits the bill nicely for the slice of life he is documenting.

Set in modern Vancouver, BC, we quickly learned that ‘Jpod’ is the nickname for a group of employees within a major video game publisher grouped together due to a HR anomaly. This explanation seemed to do wonders for my gag reflex, and I was able to hold down my lunch for the remainder of the book. From this point we are witness to the random and peculiar details of one Jpodder in particular: Jarlewski, Ethan. Through the banal, trivial, sadisitc sometimes criminal activities of his peers, we see his personal and professional lives slowly merge into one big ironic tofurkey. There are subplots galore, we have grows-ops, parental infidelity, human trafficking, recreational narcotics, web culture, eating disorders, sexual dysfunction, rural Chinese industrial complexes and more — all held together poetically by the golden rainbow that is capitalism. Coupland captures the ethos of Ethan’s post tech-bubble existence to perfection. The dream of internet riches has dried up. The coolness of working in a seemingly creative industry has been replaced with bureaucracy, monotony, internal strife, low morale and a posture that would be envied by French bell-tower dwellers.

Within the text, there are numerous literary versions of adware, pastebombs and spam. It compliments the overall ambiance. Gimmicky? Sure, but also fits well with the subject matter and the target audience. We are living in the ‘Cut and Paste’ era. There are numerous cultural references and inside jokes for those who are indoctrinated in the language of google and social networks (God, I hate that term) and their ilk…But for the rest you real world peoples, the characters could seem empty, materialistic, vacuous and amoral. Which they are. The fact that I could relate with their gross behaviour was more revolting that the acts themselves. Giggling to myself as the characters went through one preposterous life event after another.

Who are these people? These sick, twisted people. How can they live like this? And there’s the rub. You don’t have to try very hard to relate to any of the multitude of apparent clinical psychosis displayed. They are you and me kiddo, in all our glory. Searching for answers while subverting experiences via material and capital gain, which is essentially an exercise in futility. Hi there, I’m your soul. We should talk sometimes…

All this to say, that it was fantastically delicious read. A real page turner, but on the same token I can see someone else regarding it as trivial, sociopathic and superfluous. Satire, irony, wit and self-deprecation are Coupland’s finishing moves in the battle octagon that is Jpod. Extra style points for writing himself in as a capitalistic self-serving porker. It defines a particular existence in a particular point of time with distinction. But, let’s not lose our grip, and deem it the quintessential weather vane for our current history. It rings true for those who are living in this particular whacked out world. But it is only one slice out of the multi-grain loaf that is modern civilization.

Poignant social commentary about a generation on the brink of complete self-dillusion? Meh. An analogy on the human disenchantment with the promises of Democracy and Capitalism? Prolly. His best work? Dunno. A great read? Mos def.

Discovery is not a child-centric activity, but it’s sure feels like it. Well, at least for this little buckeroo.

At the exact moment when my mind registers a ‘discovery’ I experience an auto-somatic episode for a brief period. I can not quantify the length of time, but I revert to the young boy that had often sought out and enjoyed lifting up random rocks, discarded debris or moldy newspapers to simply find what lies underneath. This happens to me. EVERY. TIME.

I have this existential replay of me lifting up the symbolic rock. Kind of like the Quality Assurance station along the assembly line of memories, emotions and experiences that is my psyche. ‘It’s confirmed! We have a new discovery! Commence euphoric brain activity! Stat. Activate ear-to-ear smiling mechanism. Go. Go. Go.‘

Currently, that activity of discovery often involves scavenging through various decrepit pockets of the inter-webs. While trolling the National Public Radio website in search of some reprieve from ‘Wednesday, Day 3 of 5 for employee 30725, occupier of cornerish-window cubicle 225, 5^TH floor, building C, National Office campus. The factory was pushed into motion by a little nugget by the name of Intelligence Squared US, a podcast of oxford-style debates, complete with action grip moderator! The debaters are harvested from the upper echelons of academia and other relevant fields of knowledge. Three for the motion, three against. Throw in a hot-button issue and debate! My introduction into this program was the proposition of ‘Is America Too Damn Religious?‘. And this one was a hum-dinger. The series is produced by the WNYC, New York Public Radio. All debates are taped in front of a live audience in New York City, who are polled pre and post debate. Its root is from the British production that began in 2002. I eagerly await a Canadian version to be rolled out by the CBC.

Debate is an essential apparatus of education and critical thinking. No matter what your stance is, it is always beneficial to view a topic from as many vantage point as possible. For or against, these debaters present their case in an objective and eloquent manner.

And that’s hot.

The following is a first in a series of podcasts called ‘Conversations’. The list of the invited will span a diverse selection, which may include artists, musicians, politicians, activists, entrepreneurs and maybe even my father.

Episode One is a conversation I had with Guy Berubé, Owner and Artistic Director of Galerie La Petite Mort. A groundbreaking art space that has captured the imagination of the community. We hear his thoughts on a myriad of topics, from his vision to the trials and tribulations of a gallery owner.

The gallery is located at 306 Cumberland Street, in the heart of Downtown Ottawa, Canada. Treat yourself to an afternoon in its bold yet inviting atmosphere.

Captain Planet, the beloved brainchild of environmentalist and one-time pinko sympathzier Ted Turner is getting old. Captain Planet that is, not Ted Turner — thanks to Swiss science and his hidden reserve of gold bullion, the Tedster is livelier than ever. Truth be told, The Captain’s green mullet is greying, sure it looks distinguished and sexy in the Sean Connery geriatric kind-of-way in Entrapment, but dude is out. Since 1990, the Captain along with 70’s funk super group Earth, Wind, Fire, Water and Heart have been infotaining the world’s youth on environmental and social issues. And making a tidy profit from the merchandising and spin-off products to boot. BANK!

He has served us well, and has earned his right to throw up his size 12’s knee highs, rest his muscular shoulders on an English-leathered wingback and take it real easy-like. We thank you, the world thanks you, your work is done but there is much left undone. Enter stage right, new guy. Hit the tape deck, and somebody turn up the Hammer. The hour has come; the torch must be passed; the famous skin-tight unitard will now grace a new corn-fed body. Oscar race, shm-Oscar race. The fake contest du jour is the crowning of Captain Planet 2007. Planeteers, we got your back like for serious.

Like any other respectable corporately-funded UN-observed democratic nomination process, there are only two candidates vying for this sweet, sweet job. And since the state of the entire globe is at hand, it only makes sense the candidate shall be fabulously unilingual - meaning English speakers ONLY need apply, and if you don’t like the rules, you can take your freedom-hating ass back to France.

A cross section of potential candidates have been thrown into a Dell laptop (confiscated from Albanian bookies) containing the same software that has correctly deduced the outcome for the last 15 Ohio State ‘Little Miss Buckeye’ Toddler Beauty Pageants (with an accuracy rate of over 65%, no less). After two hours of tabulations, one patch for Explorer and three system reboots, two shiny rhetoric-encrusted mounds of turd floated to the top. Without further adieu, we present to you — your new Captain Planet 2007 — please hold your lobbying until the end.

Mr. Personality
*Artist Interpretation

In the blue corner, the Right Honourable Stephen Joseph Harper, Leader of the new Conservative Party of Canada, and the nation’s 22^nd Prime Minister. He has been leading a lean, mean governing machine since January 2006. A founding father of the Reform party and wunderkind of the Canadian Alliance Party. While driving the Alliance party bus, he orchestrated a deal of Gretzsky-esque proportions with then leader of the Progressive Conservative Party to merge assets, created a new ultra-secret (twice as secret as super-secret) handshake and rebranded themselves as the Conservative Party of Canada. The right-wing base breathed a collective sign of relief, and Canadian politics was restored to its former glory. ‘Unite the Right’ was their chant, and in one slow, drawn out lacklustre election, Mr. Personality became Canada’s first elected animatronic Prime Minister. Stephen Joseph was a man on a mission, flipping unions and allegiance for his political gain, the man is ‘change’ personified. He is the change in ‘Climate Change’. Sure, he dismissed the notion of ‘Global Warming’ and poo-pooed the Kyoto Protocol as the leader of the Opposition and then proceeded to sledgehammer existing and successful national campaigns once he was in power. It is that easy nay-sayers, you want an answer? He doesn’t even see a problem. He is single-minded in his determination. If he can fain interest in the province of Quebec to gain his office, you bet your tree-hugging, hemp-covered behind he can easily fake being green to keep it. While he keeps his ideas and policies vague and closely guarded, make no mistake…it will be a ‘Made in Canada‘ solution. Now that’s a fine tagline, eat it Madison Avenue! Government Accountability and Transparency — check! Ensuring Canadians safety at home and abroad (whatever the hell that means) — double check! Environmental problems, bring it on ladies. The pride from the west side, the part man-part robot, Stephen Joseph Haaaaarppppppeerrrrr.

Walker Texas Ranger
*Artist Interpretation

And in the red corner, a darling of the international stage for the last 7 odd years. Born into a life of squalor and hardship, a self-made man in business and politics. There was nothing life gave this southern gentleman, he took it…then proceeded to either snorted it and or shot it back with a vodka chaser. We give you the 43^rd President of the United States of America, George Walker Bush. Say it with me — TWO TERMS — democracy works people. While his current opponent may have flip-flopped, GW is steadfast in his autistic-like focus on his beliefs. Beliefs that may go against grade school science and common sense, but they’re resolute and unwavering. Catastrophic climatic episodes due to changing oceanic currents? Save your college-speak lefty wienies. While some may have naively taken every word fed by the world’s science elite at face value. This Texas Ranger from the Lone Star state formed his own panel of experts (read unemployed lab guys from Big Tobacco) to investigate into matters. And even when their conclusions deviated from his knowledge, he formed another panel to refute his previous panel. The man doesn’t know the word quit. But he does know the word legacy. Democracy and Freedom in the Middle East? Two words. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Human tragedy of Hurricane Katrina, you are welcome New Orleans. And now he has his eyes on a bigger fish to sauté and deep fry. Saving the world, that doesn’t look too bad on the old resumé. He is a man with a plan, check that he has four. You say the environment needs a friend in the Capitol building, well Gee-Dub and his investment portfolio has been teabagging Mother Nature for decades. She couldn’t ask for a better bedfellow, we give you. George. Walker. Bush.

There can be only one winner in this contest, but no matter who bears this incredibly important burden, we are the real winners in the end. Are you paying attention lefty conspiracy theorists? Your whining call for help has been answered. You see the glinting at the end of the tunnel, it’s the the beam of hope bouncing off the new Captain Planet’s codpiece. Think long, think hard. This is the best it gets. Now, using your mobile device, call now or text your vote. Be patient as our lines will be busy, please stay on the line to maintain your level of priority sequence. Your call is important to us…and the next available agent will respond to your problem. Standard international rate apply.

A face made for radio

Some people think Ottawa’s radio scene is pretty weak school. As an assessment, that would be pretty bang-on. The landscape in the nation’s capital is replete with ‘commercial’ national behemoths belting out a repetitive medley of ‘hits’, also known as the pay-for-play system. Meaning a handful of records companies pays a fee for their latest and greatest focus-tested musical frankensteins to gain some exposure. They throw in the odd oldie from the 80’s or 90’s to give the illusion that the ‘DJ’ is still involved with the music selection. They are a couple of self-proclaimed ‘genre-busting’ stations, but if you happen to listen to one for an entire day, you would quickly realize that the fix was in. Modern disc jockeys are no more than glorified talking heads, with little to no power in the decision making process. Who’s at fault? The industry has drastically changed in the last 3 decades. The bottom line has seeped its way into the creative process, and the end product is plastic and bland.

Sandwiched between inane talk/sport radio on the AM dial, and commercial slop on the FM side are a few gems that have kept on chugging along the pulse of the city. Carleton University’s CKCU 93.1 FM has been a trailblazer since 1975, when it became the nation’s first on-campus radio station. Ottawa University’s CHUO 89.1 FM first got clearance from CRTC in 1984. CKDJ 107.9 FM officially joined the party as Algonquin College’s on-campus station in 2003. These 3 community radio stations provide a voice for the diverse group of individuals that make this city shine. Economics does play a role within the community radio scene, they heavily rely on the financial donations and volunteers. Their detractors would cite the lack of unprofessionalism of some of the productions (see photo above), but as a vehicle to drive community involvement. There is no better option. Some shows have been on the airwaves for 25+ years, building a loyal audience along the way.

On any given day, you can find unique programming catering to a very eclectic audio palette. No where on commercial radio will you find reggae, alt indie rock, vietnamese news, hip hop, deep house, french folk and a salsa show within its daily line-up. And that’s just on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon. I have only given a small snippet of the what is out there on the Ottawa airwaves. Forget about simple bilingual programming, try polylingual!

Give the dial a workout, and give these stations a listen, there’s a program out there waiting for your ears. You are not chained to your radios either, all of these stations are streamed online. These stations are a true reflection of our community, you might hear yourself in the mirror.

So I tripped up on the little silly personality-esque test and the ego got the best of me. I am glad to say I am quite happy with my results. The Green Lantern was always a more obscure superhero, usually met with a roll of the eyes by schoolyard children and or comic book convention aficionados. I, however always had a fondness for the not-as-super heroes. The back story of the Green Lantern has been modified since its inception, such as the Green Lantern Corps (now with brown dude! — how modern and inclusive).

My results: You are the Green Lantern — by eighty-five freakishly chiseled pectorals percentage points no less. Hot-headed. You have strong will power and a good imagination. It’s like they looked inside my brain!

Wow, so vague, yet so accurately vague. Don’t let a duck-like gait, or a persistent under bite dissuade you. My friends you too, can waste time! — er, I mean fight crime.

Other results include: