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:

Mr. and Mrs.

Sometimes, clarity of thought requires a separation from emotion – and a month or so of recovery time. I can laugh now, because my tears ducts have dried into shriveled pockets of cells weeks ago. Nearly four months has passed since the day of my matrimony (October 7th, 2006 actually), I do find myself far enough removed from the eventful day, to give an objective break down. Allow me to sit back and review…Mind you, we still have a couple of loose ends to tie up (I am looking at you ‘Thank You Cards’ and ‘Studio 409′ — our official ceremony and reception photographers).

In any event, as I look back now, I am overwhelmed with a sense of joy and general warm’n'fuzziness. My lady and I essentially, went against every primal instinct and the final result was truly an affair to remember. I do not hesitate using the term awe-inspiring interchangeably with mind-numbing. They really go hand in hand when we are talking about the pomp and pageantry of a modern wedding celebration. We went über-conventional, meaning the flowers, the hair, the make-up, the church, the caddy, the jovial Scottish minister, the bridesmaid, the groomsmen, the custom invitations, the hotel reception hall, the multimedia slide show, the overpriced photographers, the bottled wine, the hand-made bonboneries (guest gifts for the uninitiated), the cake, the tropical South American honeymoon, the aunt from France, the feuding cousins, the former work colleague that seated herself in the family-only section, the babies, the speeches, the dancing, the laughter, the joy, the tears, the FUN. And just for good measure, the traditional Vietnamese and Indian wardrobe changes. IS NO JOKE. Take a moment, breathe.

Let us go back to 2005, we found ourselves in love and engaged. We both wanted to be married, that was never in doubt. My first inclination was to elope. Made sense to me, if not the both of us. Then the realization that were the proud owners of about ten dozens sets of uncles, aunts and cousins had set in; and that notion of a quaint intimate ceremony and dinner with close family became a tired running inside joke, that produces more tears than laughter. You see, with big families such as ours, if you invite one then you surely had to invite them all. We were quite proud of the fact that our numbers levelled off at 165, because if it weren’t for the minute amount of resolve that remained within us, it could have easily ballooned to 300. I kid you not. We quickly realized that phrases like “No”, “We can’t invite them” and “We are not paying that ridiculous price” would eventually dissolve into “Whatever…”, “Sure, bring the kids” and “Do you take credit?”. Mind you, we were somewhat stubborn in our determination to do things ourselves, and quite ambitious with our time line for deliverables. Everything went off marvellously, I do seem to be laying on the superfluous adjectives with ease, but we were truly blessed. The only sunny Saturday in October fell on our wedding, one has to think that there’s some sort of universal serendipitous hands working in our favour. I am by far too Asian to believe in mere coincidence.

October the 7^th, two-thousand and six will be known as one of the happiest days of my life. A great start to a new chapter. I am often asked if I feel any difference. And everyone is surprised to hear that EVERYTHING is different. The air is better, my step is livelier - I smile about 200% more. I know that we are a generation of sceptics, and I, a practitioner in the art of cynicism; baffled by my own testimony. But, I do want to relay some hope toward this institution. An institution that has undoubtedly been battered and bruised. But like any matter of life, if you enter it with earnestness and a commitment to hard work, the rewards will come back ten folds. A wedding is a declaration of that commitment, a declaration bared witness by your private community. I may have overstep the sap quotient, but this would be the first time where my sarcasm has no place. It was a day of true romance.

The only advice that I can pass on to anyone entertaining the idea of marriage is this, people do get over it (whatever it may be) and no decision (however monumental you may deem them) during the process really matters in the end. If that day ever arrives, enjoy each other, enjoy your guests and most definitely enjoy the wine.

Do you like a free flash embedded audio players? Do you like Scottish brothers making electronic cheddar under a name with a Canadian reference?

Note to Self: Donate to this guy. Soon.

I conceived of the mantle of ‘Jumboshrimp‘ back in the summer of 2001 — the Summer of Discovery — no less. Back in those heady days, Blogger and I were merely in the flirtatious phase. We were young, and it was fun.

The name derived from my fondness of all things aquatic and edible AND its oxymoronic union. How clever I thought. Can you believe I was merely 24 years old at the time? Clever, indeed. Yes, Jumboshrimp - from the fine makers of Halitosis and Dysentery…and other fish-based goodness.™

A quick search with Metacrawler resulted in various links towards seafood related sites. Japan seemed to have some sort of odd strangle hold on the species. But not a single online entity using the little crustacean that could for a moniker. It was set, Jumboshrimp and I were on like Tron.

Blogger had been around the block for a couple of years, and I was a social networking neophyte. So, flirting quickly turned into heavy petting, and Blogger, she became a very nubile and attentive mistress. Sure there was a brief intense dalliance with Livejournal, but really Livejournal? Who are we kidding? Sure, I toyed with the emotions of a spiraled notebook, or two. But, if you are serious about ranting, and have a true passion for raving. You NEED to be online. So back into Bloggers’ meaty arms I turned. BUT…

Listen baby, the old flame is barely producing any smoke now. Besides when we met, I didn’t know what blogging really meant, at least true blogging anyways. Granted you looked good in a browser, but I am not going to let nostalgia slow me down, I need to grow. You changed, but more so I changed. Blogger you were good to me, but you know what…I have different needs now. I need to see other services, you were suffocating me. Why can’t you see that? I got sick of looking at your tired templates, and you weren’t even trying anymore. We had a good run — times, they are a-changing. I need to have an open-sourced relationship, and you just can’t give me that. I am seeing WordPress now, WordPress gets me. We finish each other’s sentences. We even like the same things!

By the way, you can keep my old posts Blogger, they meant more to you anyways…because towards the end I was faking it.