As many of you will have heard, I have started a weekly Podcast with Heidi, our Miniature Dachshund.
This is an excerpt from our most recent episode:
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Me: Before we start today’s Podcast I have an announcement to make. On our last broadcast Heidi made some remarks that were very hurtful to some beloved members of our community.
The appalling statements she made might even be considered an act of violence in and of themselves, and let me say unequivocally that we here at The Breakfast Club have always, and will always be, great allies to all of our friends in the SCBDB community. Your struggle is our struggle, and we will not tolerate any sort of hate speech, calls to violence or prejudice against you and those that you love. You are our family. We love you and stand beside you. I want to take this time now to formally apologize to all Squirrels, Cats, Birds and Dumb Birds who were wounded by Heidi’s words. We are profoundly sorry.
Although Heidi has been a mostly loyal dog to my family for nearly a dozen years, I simply cannot excuse her behaviour, and so she has been removed from the Podcast, effective immediately, and sent to live up in the country with my wife’s parents where she will undergo prolonged sensitivity training.
Taking her place will be Margaret Atwood, one of the supporting actresses from the hit TV show The Hand Made Tale.
Atwood: The title of the show is the Handmaids Tale, and I was the author of the novel upon which the successful TV show was based, not a supporting actress in it.
Me: Please don’t interrupt.
Atwood: You have more important things to say, do you?
Me: Nuts! Now I’ve lost my place!
Atwood: Yes, of course you have. A straight, middle-aged white man with no discernible talents suddenly adrift in a changing world. One day you wake up to discover that you’re not one of the good guys at all, but are actually an enemy of the people, an enemy to all those you never heard, saw or even thought about in all the decades you stomped so blindly through this world. Now that the shell of your status has been cracked open to reveal your mediocrity and fear, it must be so very difficult for you! And how have you responded to this sea change, Michael, to being revealed so nakedly to all whom you ignored? With hostility and defensiveness, of course, with a desperate attempt to portray yourself as a victim rather than a victimizer. So yes, I can see how you might feel that you “lost your place.”
Me: I WAS PATROL OF THE WEEK IN GRADE SIX!! I WAS AT THE BARRICADES KEEPING THE WORLD SAFE FROM TYRANNY, GODDAMNIT!! NOBODY CAN TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!!
]]>Well, the other day my mother actually received this letter from Margaret Atwood:
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December, 6th, 2017
bärb/
noun
noun: barb; plural noun: barbs
-
- a sharp projection near the end of an arrow, fishhook, or similar item, angled away from themain point so as to make extraction difficult.
2. a cluster of spikes on barbed wire.
3. a deliberately hurtful remark.
Dear Barb:
Please forgive me for being so informal as to use your first name. I can see that you’re not just appropriately (refer to above prolegomenon) named, but that the Murray line carries very excitable genes, and I certainly don’t want to offend you or any of the other members in your easily inflamed tribe.
Let me first thank you for your apology concerning the alarming behaviour of your 50-something son, and the thoughtful inclusion of hand sanitizer with your letter. You are right, hand sanitizer does make for a nice, affordable stocking stuffer. Thank Heavens for Shoppers Optimum points, eh, Barb?
It’s interesting to note that the word “barb” is derived from Latin and Old French words for “beard.” The patriarchy has a deep reach, Mrs. Murray, a very deep reach. For instance, I wonder why your fully grown, almost elderly son, does not feel the need to apologize for himself to a respected woman he’s been publicly berating? Why would his mother have to do it?
Could it be that Michael, an archetypically mediocre white man,
was born into a world that was made for him, a world where women existed as bit players present only to serve his narrative? And then, with all competition smothered, with the entire force of a white, phallocentric history pushing him forward, Michael, armed with every conceivable advantage, became the author of one very unsuccessful vanity-published book.
That’s what he did.
He did not become an astronaut, he became a fantasy baseball enthusiast. And as he ascended to the status of fantasy baseball enthusiast and nothing else, he fully believed that all his “achievements” were due to his unique genius, and all failures a conspiracy of invisible, unknowable enemies.
Does that sound about right?
But it’s not your fault, Barb. It’s the world we were born into, and if you want to learn more about why your son is an asshole, you should tune in to Bravo on April 30th to watch the award-winning, crisply produced recreation of my uncannily predictive dystopian novel, A Handmaid’s Tale. It stars Elisabeth Moss, whom you might have seen on the cover of some of the magazines you buy at the mall.
Margaret Atwood
PS: Von all den Kreaturen, die auf der Erde atmen und sich bewegen, wird nichts gezüchtet, das schwächer ist als der Mensch.
]]>As many of you know, I’ve been engaged in a running feud with Canadian literary legend Margaret Atwood for quite some time now.
Typically, the landscape for this war has been social media and chance encounters in our shared neighbourhood of Toronto, but about a month or so ago my mother
turned up the weird by writing Atwood a letter of apology on behalf of my family ( http://michaelmurray.ca/my-mothers-letter-to-margaret-atwood ), as I had refused to so so myself. After a few weeks had passed without my mother getting a response, she wrote to Atwood again:
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Nov, 9, 2017
Dear Ms. Atwood:
Hi, how are you?
I am fine, but oh, my sinuses were just awful last week! I don’t know what it was, maybe a change in the barometric pressure or the wind, but honest to Betsy, I just wanted to climb under a rock and die! Even chewing gum was excruciating! It’s at such times when you really need a friend– just so you know that people care and that they’re grateful for all the little things you do for them, like sending hand-sanitizer because you don’t want them to pick up a nasty sinus bug like you did. By the way, did you get the hand-sanitizer I sent to you? I hope so, but you never know with the post office!
Have you got all your Christmas shopping done? I don’t even know where to begin, I’m still trying to catch up on all my cards from last year!
Oh, I think I hear Frito meowing!
That can only mean one thing—he wants his dinner, so I better go!
Yours sincerely,
Barb Murray
PS: In case you did’t know, you can now get a flu shot at Shopper’s so you don’t have to go through all the bother of going to a doctor’s office!
Nov, 13, 2017
Dear Ms. Atwood:
I know that you are a very important person and are probably very busy with your various hobbies and commitments, but that’s still no excuse for being rude! I don’t know how you were raised or what sort of morals you Hollywood types have, but where I come from you write a thank-you note if somebody sends you some hand-sanitizer. It’s just common decency.
I hope you remembered to buy a poppy this Remembrance Day. My father fought in WW II.
In the trenches. There was no hand-sanitizer there. Just death and foot disease. But my father endured all that hardship to help make the world safe for people like you, so I hope you always keep in mind the sacrifices he made for you.
I have been thinking a little more about my son’s behaviour toward you. It’s true that Michael has his issues, but I always taught him to be considerate. If you drop him off at a bar, he will thank you, and if he gets a present, you can be sure he will send a thank-you note to the person who sent him the hand-sanitizer. Sometimes when he’s tired or anxious or hasn’t been attending his low carb support group meetings, he can get very crabby, so it’s crucial for him, and all of us, to maintain our routines (especially regular BM’s!) and get plenty of sleep.
Looking forward to hearing from you soon,
Barb Murray
PS: I have included an article that I clipped from the paper that I thought you might be interested in on Vitamin D. It’s very important that we get enough of it, especially in winter. Osteoporosis is a silent killer. I was a nurse, so I know.
PPS: Did you get many trick-or-treaters for Halloween? We only got two, and they were both teenage girls! And the way they were dressed, my Lord! I thought I should be handing out clothes instead of candy!
PPS: Do you have any children or were you barren?
]]>
All the same, family members told her that I had been writing about my feud with Atwood ( http://michaelmurray.ca/atwood-condo-tweet-fight#more-6562 ), and that some of the things I had been saying about her weren’t very kind. My mother was very, very disappointed in me and demanded that I write her an apology. We got in a huge fight about this, of course, and since I refused to do what she wanted, she went ahead and wrote Margaret Atwood a letter herself:
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Dear Ms. Atwood,
Hi, how are you?
I am fine, although I have to say that the weather in Ottawa has been very unpredictable! One day it’s hot as the blazes and the next it’s so cold Frito won’t even go outside!
Just last week ( in late September) it was far too hot to shampoo the carpet, so I called up Bea and asked her if she wanted to go to the Second Cup for a coffee. She said Ok, but first she had to finish watching her show, and so I waited, and then once we got there Bea insisted on sitting out on the patio. I have no idea why she wanted to sit there. It was so humid it was like being in a sauna! It’s no wonder she felt faint, she’s lucky she didn’t have another heart attack!
Anyway, I hope that the weather is better in Toronto than it is here.
It has come to my attention that my son, Michael Murray, has been saying some mean things to you on the computer. That’s not nice at all. Just cheap. It’s elder abuse, is what it is, and he’ll find out exactly how that feels when he’s older. He’ll get his, he will, and then he’ll be sorry. Let me assure you he was definitely not raised to be so cheeky and disrespectful, and the ENTIRE Murray family is very sorry for the way he has behaved toward you. It’s shameful, and although no one likes to say it, the truth is that he’s never been the same since the bee sting. It changed him, even if the doctors said it didn’t. A mother knows.
By the way, congratulations on winning an Emma for The Handmaid’s Veil! Such a fancy event! It must have been nice to have all those lovely starts applauding the great work you’ve done! Did you see Hugh Jackman? Such a handsome, classy man!
Yours sincerely,
Barb Murray
PS: Just awful about Las Vegas! I don’t know what’s gotten into people!
PPS: I have inclosed some hand sanitizer (There is a special on at Shopper’s Drug Mart) as you can never be too careful during flu season!!
]]>She lives in the same part of Toronto as I do, and occasionally we bump into one another as we did yesterday when Rachelle and I were at the local park with our two-year old son Jones:
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Me: Oh, shit.
Rachelle: What?
Me: Two o’clock.
Rachelle: The woman in the cloak?
Me: I thought it was a cape.
Rachelle: No, that’s a cloak.
Me: Ok, whatever. Either way, it’s Margaret fucking Atwood.
Rachelle: I think she’s coming over. I’m going to take Jones to the swings! You two talk on your own!!
( Rachelle and Jones run off as Atwood approaches)
Atwood: Forgive me, but I have to ask, do the police get called very often?
Me: I’m not sure I understand what you mean.
Atwood: You, a middle-aged loner who will never be accepted by his neighbouring, wealthy peers.
Never-quite wearing the right brand and always on the periphery, just shy of conversation, always staring at the children and their pretty young mothers, staring so hard it seems as if you’re trying to fill some interior void that can never stop hungering. I’d think that might make many of the parents nervous.
Me: I think I’m seen more as a kind of guardian, like Batman.
Atwood: Yes, Batman, or perhaps a guardian, like a hollowed-out and mother-dominated crossing guard still living with his deceased parents. Maybe like that, too.
Me: Did you make it to the corn boil here the other day? Blue grass band and everything.
Atwood: Here at Sibelius park?
Me: Yes.
Atwood: No, I was in LA at the Emmy’s.
Me: Funny how the city of Toronto would name a park Sibelius, after a Finnish composer of classical music, before naming one after you, a Canadian writer of impenetrable, mostly hated books. Wonder why that is?
Atwood: I am astonished. You must have been reading your Wikipedia in order to find out who Jean Sibelius was, for surely you thought he was some old Toronto Maple Leaf who died in car crash, no?
Me: JONES!!! NO KICKING!!!! I’M SERIOUS!! I WILL TAKE THAT DIGGER AWAY!!! DON’T THINK I WON’T!!
Atwood: They’re so beautiful at that age. It’s wonderful to see such attentive nurturing, too. With all the advantages you’re giving your son, I am sure he will go far in this world, maybe all the way to The Keg.
Me: I heard you were wearing your housecoat on stage when that thing you wrote so long ago, The Handmaiden’s Tale, won some Emmy for best red outfit worn by a supporting actress, or something.
Atwood: Handmaid’s Tale, and it was awarded Best Drama, amongst several other awards, for being considered a prescient and uncanny representation of Trump’s America.
Me: It’s no Game of Thrones, is all I can say.
Atwood: “Perlen vor Schweinen geworfen,” as they say.
Me: Yeah, whatever.
Atwood: I saw that the *Giller Prize nominees were announced.
Me: JONES!!! I’M NOT TELLING YOU AGAIN!!
Atwood: I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t nominated.
Not even on the long list.
Again.
How does that make you feel, Marcel?
Me: It’s Michael.
Atwood: Right, so sorry.
* The prize awards $100,000 annually to the author of the best Canadian novel or short story collection published in English, and $10,000 to each of the finalists.
]]>One of the components of this event was that I was signing copies of my bestselling book A Van Full of Girls. In case the book has somehow escaped your attention, here are a few press clippings:
“ I thought it was fine, but it could stand for less swearing. Swearing doesn’t prove what a big man you are.”
—Barb Murray, Canadian mother
“Although I could not invest in Michael’s book project, I was struck by how courageous he was to put his thoughts down like that and then, in spite of the risk of public embarrassment and the terribly long odds of any sort of success, seek publication. So brave. We need more people with Michael’s spirit in Canada.”
—Arlene Dickinson, star of the CBC hit TV show Dragon’s Den
“ It’s just lie after lie after lie.”
—Doug Ford, Canadian businessman and politician
I have to say, and I’m giving you the straight-up truth here, the book really is a fucking game-changer.
You should buy it.
At any rate, while we were selling off our things, Margaret Atwood, who lives in the same area, happened upon us. I conducted a somewhat adversarial interview with her a few months ago for a magazine called The Knuckler, ( http://michaelmurray.ca/atwood-interview ) and as this took place via phone I was unsure if she knew who I was, but when she saw me at my little A Van Full of Girls kiosk, she approached.
Margaret Atwood: I’ve been surveying all your trinkets here, such a contrast amidst the grandeur of the neighbourhood. So sweet, so hopeful.
Me: Thanks.
Margaret Atwood: It’s like an archeological dig. Sifting through the debris you can see the arc of a life, the enthusiasm and ambition that inevitably crumbles into failure, and then finally the recognition of that failure and the selling off of all that had symbolized your hope.
Me: I’ll let you have the Six Million Dollar Man thermos for a buck.
Margaret Atwood: I don’t think so.
Me: Your loss.
Margaret Atwood: You seem to have an awful lot of unfinished self-help books for sale. Why is that?
Me: I don’t know, why is the Handmaiden’s Tale so much more popular as a TV show not written by you, than as a book written by you?
Margaret Atwood: Handmaid’s Tale, it’s Handmaid’s Tale.
Me: Oh. Sorry.
Margaret Atwood: This book, A Van Full of Girls? Are you the author?
Me: Yes. You should buy a copy. Support the arts.
Margaret Atwood: So tell me, how does self-publishing work these days?
Me: My book wasn’t self-published.
Margaret Atwood: Really!? How extraordinary. Typically you don’t seen an established author out on a front lawn selling his book from a knapsack. And look, you have so many copies! You must have at least 40!
Me: You know what? I also have an awful lot of Margaret Atwood books for sale over there, but people just don’t seem interested. One woman picked up a copy of Lady Oracle, showed it to her friend and said, “Barf.”
Margaret Atwood: (Gives withering look)
Me: (Imitates withering look)
Margaret Atwood left shortly after this exchange, but not before telling me that I should keep all the self-help books I was trying to sell, and buying, for reasons we can only imagine, a used The Very Best of Chris de Burgh LP.
