My thoughts strayed to the USA's Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar (if ever there was a necessity for name alerts for potential suspicion, it would be Jim Bob, or any other two named names).

The Duggars are famous for their incredible ability to reproduce; at last count 17 little Duggars had joined the world. Otherwise, there's no other newsworthy talents for this couple. They're just great ... well, never mind. I shall not delve into my impressive list of reproductive colloquialisms.

I watched a documentary about the Duggars a year ago. I define 'watched' as a car-accident-on-the-freew ay observation. You know you shouldn't be staring, but you can't help it as you find it disturbingly fascinating.

That applies to the Russian couple as well. Giving birth repeatedly, does not a parent make. I cannot speak for Tatyana Khalina (or Michelle Duggar for that matter) but I can question the irresponsibility or actual intent of the men in their lives.

What man would continually keep a woman pregnant, knowing how difficult pregnancy is on a woman's body? What sort of man impregnates his wife before she's recovered from birthing their last babe?

During the documentary, it became evident that Michelle is not the sharpest tool in the shed (which makes her home schooling boast even more alarming). And despite my original empathy upon seeing Michelle as a docile victim of JB's religious birthing indoctrination, the birth of her 10th child stopped me cold.

I soon realized that Michelle Duggar was extending her continuous state of pregnancy because that was when she she was treated 'special'. Gestation meant Michelle was not expected to do anything other than indulge in an occasional nap, while the children smoothly ran the household , without so much as a complaint as mother was 'with child'. (I also wonder if the eldest children get embarrassed by their parents' obvious sexual habits, just as other teenagers suffer?)

It is time for JB to give Michelle a break from her baby-ever-15 months indenture. I also get a chuckle recalling how I used to complain about my efforts (and inability) to get my pre-baby shape back after having two children. Somehow, I doubt if Michelle will ever complain that she can't get her pre baby figure back, because she cannot remember ever not having a baby in the womb.

A viewer of the Duggar documentary wrote (in response to another viewer's criticism.) ... By the way, I think mom and dad Duggar are saints... Saints for doing what? Having intercourse regularly; becoming pregnant and giving birth as a result of intercourse; and then feeding/ clothing/ nurturing the offspring? That’s a common practise around these parts, called Parenting, NOT Sainthood.

designated a sibling to babysit for twelve or more years;

allotted identical coloured clothing to wear on set days,

and been receiving an education equivalent to that of the smartest adult in the household...

How is that child going to respond to an entire world willing to recognize, embrace, and encourage his/her individuality? We had better keep a look out for 17 potential best selling 'I Was a Duggar Child, and all I got was this Lousy T-Shirt' autobiographies over the next 20 years.

And note to JB... do us all a favour and give Michelle a .;real; gift by keeping your PJs on.

Siblings from Big Familes

Image from wikipedia.org

I don't know about you, but this whole global warming thing is getting out of hand. Everywhere you turn these days, you can't avoid seeing one thing or another on the topic. Enough already! We get it. Why don't we respond as we typically do, and just ignore the whole problem? Pretend we don't notice the ice caps are melting, or the polar bears dying. Like really, who's going to miss a bunch of big nasty carnivores who could knock your block off with a single swipe? (I can hear the seals applauding).

And as for the talk of the coastal areas flooding? We'll make like the Dutch and build a network of dams and dikes. Because they're already good at building these, we'll contract the job to the Dutch. I remember being a kid and hearing that Holland was going to be completely under water one day. It didn’t happen now, did it?

That's why you have to balance the negatives with some positives. Surprisingly, there are quite a few positives on this topic. A report that came out of the U.S. (another surprise) noted that the melting of the Northwest Passage glaciers will cut future shipping costs by millions of dollars! And drilling for oil will become easier and less expensive (and there will be less bears and wildlife for the save-all-animals societies to fret over in the event of a big spill). You have to hand it to our American friends for always pointing out the positives.

The Passage is going to be a high traffic waterway in the coming years and with several countries claiming the area as 'their own', global warming will seem like an afterthought in the midst of superpowers sparring for oil rich territory. Can you imagine Canada and Denmark going at it? Please! Stop the madness! Oh! The humanity!

So turn that frown upside down and drop all that negative gloom and doom crap. This planet's proven itself resilient after surviving billions of years already. Surely little ol. insignificant creatures such as mankind aren’t capable of destroying something as vast and magnificent as an entire ecosystem including its life forms..?

And if those pesky polar bears can’t stand the heat...

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I was watching the movie, McCabe and Mrs Miller (1971: Warren Beatty and Julie Christie) about a man building a frontier town somewhere in the North western United States. (It was actually filmed in Vancouver by Robert Altman.) One scene shows Julie Christie (the resident brothel Madam) secretly sneaking off to smoke opium (although it is not called that, or called anything for that matter.)

This is not the first time I have seen movies allude to women's use of opium in the 1800's and I wondered how accurate this depiction was. As the saying goes, 'Where there's smoke there's fire'. I decided to research the use of opium in the United States during the 1800's.

Wow - not only did I find pages of information, I also learned that the everyman's drug of choice was actually called laudanum (Latin laudare, to praise) and was used in many patent medicines to relieve pain... to produce sleep... to allay irritation... Today we take Advil, whereas the Victorian citizen smoked opium or ingested a morphine tincture. Laudanum was cheaper than alcohol, (due to its pharmacological definition it was exempt from taxes) and it provided wonderful dreams.

Laudanum lost its initial appeal when people were faced with a unexpected withdrawal caused by physical dependency on the opiate. The drug soon lost public favour as its addictive properties destroyed many families and frequently caused accidental overdoses. Surprisingly, 'laudanum is still available by prescription in the United States, classified as a Schedule II drug under the Controlled Substances Act. Its most common formulation is known as "deodorized tincture of opium," (Thanks Wikipedia.)

Researching laudanum led me to the Australian artist, Tracey Moffatt. An glimpse of her art photography is available online as is a schedule for her upcoming shows. At first I was unsure if Moffatt's art were old photographs that she had manipulated and/or added to; or if they are current photographs she has taken. From all that I have read on Tracey Moffatt, these would be current photographs that she has staged to appear historical. Quite an outstanding job - judge for yourself. Each photograph challenges one's imagination to fill in the blanks and complete the story.

Whatever the story, Moffatt's 'Laudanum' exhibition was shown in 1998 and her photographs are mesmerizing - clearly depicting the dreamlike state the laudanum smoker could achieve. The pictures also give the sense of lethargical escape, or perhaps fulfils the user's temporary wish to escape. Some of the women are half dressed implying a courtesan status or ...

Immediately I want to know why they need to escape? Were they addicted to laudanum? How did they come into contact with the drug? Where are the photographs supposed to be staged. What is the story?

Definitely an interesting collection. One that I would have liked to have seen in person.

Tracy Moffatt is currently showing her work in Australia. Another collection I would recommend viewing is her Scarred for Life series

Laudanum

Images from roslynoxley9.com.

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I probably shouldn't admit to something like this because I might receive derogatory insults hurled from the he-men/manly-men crowd.

Sometimes I've been known to cry. And I am never quite sure if this is normal or not.

You see, I happen to be a fairly large, muscular guy. I work out regularly and am able to lift poundages that would make the Terminator proud. I am aware my physical presence can be intimidating judging by the way fellow gym-rats step aside for me to pass. Yep I am big, muscular, and I cry.

When my beloved cat of fifteen years recently died, I was inconsolable. I gave in to the full out quivering lip and all, sobbing. I think you have the picture and let me confirm, it ain't pretty.

Whenever I feel the urge to cry, I quickly refer to my Tough-Guys-I-'Admire list and try to recall any displays of tearful emotion. Be it Hollywood or NHL - no one on my list cried/cries. (A lot of Leafs' FANS cry but that's understandable and a whole different article.)

And isn't this a measure of how tough a man really is? You've seen the movies where the guy's at war, and his buddy dies in his arms, and not a tear is shed? They suck it up like 'real men' 'cause crying is for little girls. And crying in public? That's the ultimate taboo for the tough guy. I remember that during the 9/11 attacks I had to report for jury selection. I was listening to my car radio just as the Twin Towers collapsed, and I began to cry; shake with anger, and yell at God and the universe while punching my steering wheel.

As I approached the courthouse, I quickly 'cleaned' myself up for fear that it would be evident I'd been crying.

When I sat down and surveyed the courtroom, all I could see were red eyes and flushed faces. When His Honour dismissed us all from our responsibility 'due to the events that had transpired' he took off his glasses and wiped the tears from his eyes, without shame.

I'll always remember the sense of comfort (and relief) I felt in knowing I was not the only man who had needed to cry, and it was then I realized, maybe tears weren't a sign of weakness, after all? Perhaps having the ability to identify that there exists a time and place for all to cry is the true measure of a 'tough guy'.

I'll never understand the media's mob mentality; when someone is down, the boots are a flyin'. What primitive instinct do we possess that gives us such satisfaction and comfort from observing the misery of others, especially celebrities?

Now, I'm not a Britney Spears fan by any means. I have heard her muzak (thanks to my daughter who, as a young teen, was quite fond of her) and would file her in the same category as any candy pop available for mass consumption. Much like the Monkees, but without the charisma.The staying power of these acts is generally short 'n' sweet. Once they've cranked out a couple of hits, and a straight-to-video movie, they are yesterday's news (until they show up as a postscript on E! True Hollywood Story).

Unless, of course, you're Britney Spears. It hasn't been an easy ride for Ms. Spears who's endured one disaster after another. She broke up with boy-band stud Timberlake; made the obligatory bad movie; married K-Fed and morphed into a questionable mom, and impulsively shaved off her infamous golden locks. But hey, the girl is only human. We all make mistakes!

Last Sunday in Las Vegas, Britney boldly and bravely tried to launch her musical comeback to the delight of the dagger-holding critics. These pop culture pundits were spewing some truly cruel and crass 'critiques' ridiculing everything from her performance, to her outfit (or lack thereof), to her physical condition.

Like... wait a minute! What was everyone expecting, a reunited Led Zeppelin? (Which, incidentally, is going to happen, and man do I feel sorry for those guys 'cause they're way older than Britney. Psst, Robert Plant... don't show any midriff.) But, I digress. It's not like the public didn't know what to expect from Spears and her limited musical repertoire.

And, not to sound like a middle-aged perv, Ms. Spears does have it 'going on'. Some hacks were complaining about bulges here and there, but give me a break, she looks damn good for having had two kids. Hell, she looks better than most twenty-somethings who haven't had any kids.

Sometimes I wish we could have a kinder, more gentler, media. A media who caters to the joe-publics who don't always want to kick 'em when they're down. (Especially when it involves an aging, single-parent, pop princess trying to get it together.)

And Britney? Remember to hold your head high, girl, 'cause that pendulum swings both ways.

Just ask Mariah Carey...

Coming up next... In defense of George W. Bush. No... really! I'm not kidding. Stay tuned.

Image from dailymail.co.uk

Introducing, for your listening pleasure... Toykult!

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Toykult is an interesting indie band based out of Montreal, whose three members originally arrived from equally different parts of Europe.

Tom Hamlyn hails from England, and he is the kind of musician I've always wanted to be; the guy who can do everything. And he does everything quite well. He sings, plays guitar, writes and arranges the CD's songs, and produces and (importantly) masters the final product. Toykult is definitely Tom's baby, and that's okay because he has the talent to warrant this ownership.

Unlike some albums that are driven by a dominant force, Sow Loco provides a varied sound, and doesn't hesitate to dip its toes into a wide range of musical genres. But make no mistake, this album would be found in the Alternative Rock section at your local record store. Sow Loco also provides enough songs that could be considered techno/dance/electronica which allows it to keep fresh and interesting. I love it when artists push the music industry's labelling envelope by producing a body of work that defies singular classification. Toykult has achieved this feat.

The bass player in the band, Franck Chionna, originally came from France/Italy, and helped with the production and mastering, as did Toykult's third member Martin Bennett. Martin is a Scotsman who is also credited with a unique mix of instrumental playing - drums, bass, and sitar.

Usually, I would list the songs on the CD and give a brief descriptive of each, but this is unecessary thanks to www.toykult.com which provides a 90 second sample of each song . There are 5 notable tracks with one, in particular, being the gem that I'm wagering will be heard shortly on national, and alternative radio. Wonderful Lie is the kind of song that I liked immediately, and it continues to grow on me with each listen.

I look forward to my CD player's repeated plays of Sow Loco and I am confident that my enthusiasm will be soon shared by both FM and INDIE radio listeners alike.

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After the shock of watching my hair melt, I came across The Hair Styler website (see link) and joined so that I could upload my photo to see what hair style suited me.

At first it was disheartening because I realized no style 'suited' me, but then it gradually became funny/surreal as I watched my look morph into some bizarre cartoon-like images. Ultimately, this site allowed me to come to terms with my hair-raising (bad decision) experience, and accept that I will have to eventually chop it all off. I plan to initially lose around seven inches and gradually go shorter until all the damage is removed.

Going going...

Check out hairstyler.com to see What your perfect style is. Be aware that you have to pay $$ to upload your picture and see the styles, but the haircut survey/advice is free.

Gone!

Nothing Special is a song presently being shared amongst the tweens, and is performed by Ill Scarlet

Danny Elfman is a musician I have long admired (since his involvement in the group, Oingo Boingo). From Oingo Boingo, he went on to teach himself how to score movies and is well known for his identifiable work in Tim Burton's movies. His ability to learn on-the-fly is what initially prompted me to follow his career (with all its twists and turns).

I recently learned that Danny had received an Honorary Doctorate from the North Carolina School of the Arts (June, 2007), and he also gave the commencement address to the school's 2007 graduating class. I always enjoy when honorary degrees are awarded to those who rarely complete high school (Elfman being one).

After tracking down his commencement address (thanks to www.ncarts.edu/pressrelease) I felt compelled to share some of his observations and words of advice to the NCSA graduates. I especially appreciated his understanding of the differences between talent, skill and luck. Not all celebrities are as modest as Mr. Elfman when it comes to their talents and abilities. Here is a portion of Danny's speech.

Note: I will insert an occasional explanation in italics as I have not included his full speech.

After discussing his involvement with the progression of Oingo Boingo (at the request of his older brother) he states: ... A year became five or six. Again, we busted our asses and rehearsed night and day. We got better. We built a strong following. Even got a record deal. Things are going OK. I guess I'm finally realizing my dream?

Can't put my finger on it. Something's still not right. Still not quite seeing 'the future.'

Then a young animator doing his first feature film comes to see my band. He liked it and thought maybe I could score his film. How the hell am I going to do that? I have no training. I felt woefully inadequate. My newly acquired band skills now seemed useless for this endeavour. I came so very, very close to saying no. So, time for a big deep pause.

Remember back - all those movies I paid so much attention to (including the music)? (Danny was an avid theatre buff who loved the film compositions of Bernard Herrmann and Franz Waxman.) Combine that with what I'd picked up with the theatre troupe (Elfman was invited to join a theatre troupe when he was spotted teaching himself to play the violin while travelling France) – I developed a pretty good ear during those years.

I did learn to write down music on paper once. And I did remember all the film scores I grew up with. And so I reluctantly agreed.

The young animator kid, by the way, was Tim Burton, and the movie was PEE WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE. I did it, and guess what happened? It jump-started a new dream and a whole new career. But that's not the point of this story. That was a lucky break. 

So here's the point.

Over the next 10 years, I busted my ass to learn this new craft and to my surprise, I found that every detour and dead end I had encountered in the past ended up giving me great advantages. I began incorporating all of my ethnic percussion and love of rhythm. As my teachers, I turned to a half dozen film composers that, although I didn't know it at the time, had embedded themselves into my soul and brain. 

I drew from some of the crazy, irreverent stuff I did while banging it out in the street troupes, both French and American, and the ear training I got from transcribing those Ellington records.

And strangely, in a weird way, the 'go screw yourself' attitude I got from being in a rock band paid off too, because it allowed me to be more fearless.

Even the starving years taught me to sharpen up my intuition and people skills and how to figure things out with nothing to work with. Things that proved to be really useful.

But most importantly, all those detours taught me not to lose hope from failure. One door closes, another opens up. And amazingly, in the end, nothing was wasted. All the time I thought I had lost wasn't lost at all...

I love how Elfman can reflect and express the general idea that 'all things happen for a reason'; (a favourite belief that I carry strictly to preserve my sanity.) I also admire that he does not once attribute his good fortune as something that he was owed/ guaranteed/ deserving of because of his innate talents (which could be easily surmised). Indeed, Elfman has reminded me that many difficult interactions, challenging and even discouraging events in one's life merely provide one with experience and ammunition for some obscure, yet relevant, future need. Best of all, I loved the irony of an upscale Fine Arts Institute's choice of a speaker who never learned his craft from such an institution.

Image from musicmedia.ign.com