“On Wednesday morning, the public got their first glimpse of disgraced CBC radio host Jian Ghomeshi– who is charged with five criminal offences including sexual assault and choking–as he appeared at a downtown Toronto courthouse.
What are sex criminals wearing this season?
Well, foregoing his signature, I’m-old-but-a-downtown-scenester-who-likes-beating-women-rock-guy style, Ghomeshi went with a black suit, crisp white shirt and subtly pattered dark tie. Standing beside his fearless and brilliant lawyer, Marie Henin, who was smartly turned-out in black with a lurid splash of lipstick across her face, the pair looked evil and powerful, like they had mastered the dark arts and were taking the charges very seriously.
Ghomeshi, who typically sports a youthful, mop of dyed hair that suggested the gentle innocence of a Muppet to his victims, had trimmed it, a clear attempt to convey to the court that he was a serious man, a full grown predator and that these women would have understood that, via his hair, and thus implicitly consented to being attacked by him. His signature five-o’clock-shadow, a reminder of his love and violent fantasies surrounding the sleazy 1980’s TV show Miami Vice, 
was gone, once again suggesting that he was a powerful, business-savvy man of violent and criminal action. “Think Christian Grey, not Ted Bundy, “ Mr. Ghomeshi’s stubble-free face declares.
By not wearing a bloodstained white shirt, Ghomeshi and his legal team are sending a clear message to the courts that he is not always beating women for his own twisted sexual gratification, but is often taking time to try to plot some form of consent from his victims, usually while setting up his video camera and arranging his other props. The tie, dark and respectful, but with a subtle pattern, is a clear indicator of the BDSM interior of Ghomeshi, a bold statement of his violent intentions that not even the most drugged, intoxicated or star-struck woman could possibly have misunderstood.
In court we see that Ghomeshi has decided to eschew the tie and go for a more casual, you’re-relaxed-and-in-my-lair-and-I’m-showing-you-my-record-collection vibe. He’s showing the court that he’s their friend, the voice that they allowed into their home, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom for so many years, and that their relationship is now so intimate that the obvious next step is to introduce a startling, brutally violent, dangerous and one-sided sexual component into their life together.
With Ghomeshi, the safe word is always “style.” “
]]>
Ford has submitted an audition tape with a number of sample interviews he’s conducted, and this is a small selection:
Doug Ford interviews Deepak Chopra (Indian-American author, public-speaker, businessman and physician)
Doug Ford: So, what do you like better being a doctor or being a businessman?
Deepak Chopra: Well, we are more than just the labels that society puts on us. Yes, it is true that I am a businessman and doctor, but I, like all human spirits, am many things, and everything that I do nourishes my soul equally.
Doug Ford: I’m a very successful businessman. We make labels. We’re called Deco Labels. Three different locations, two in the GTA and one in Chicago. Deepak, let me ask you, you ever been to Chicago?
Deepak Chopra: I have been many times and will be there next week to promote my new book, Why is God Laughing: The path to joy and optimism.
Doug Ford: That’s great. You should take in a Blackhawk’s game and go to Michael Jordan’s steak house. Jesus, those are some good goddamn steaks. Do you eat steak in India? I mean, you folks worship cows, you’d think you’d know and appreciate how delicious steak is. By the way, I’ve always admired the Indian people, you guys are great, very colourful and polite.
Doug Ford interviews Suzanne Somers (comedienne, actress and businessperson)
Doug Ford: Let me tell you, thirty years ago you were just about the hottest thing I ever saw. Chrissy Snow. Jesus Christ. Hot. And let me tell you, Three’s Company, that was a real comedy. Classy.
Suzanne Somers: Thank you.
Doug Ford: So, you write poetry in your spare time?
Suzanne Somers: I’ve always felt the need to express myself creatively.
Doug Ford: I like to box. Sometimes shot put. Okay, my producer wants me to read one of your poems. It’s from a collection called Touch Me: The poems of Suzanne Somers. I bet you have a lot of takers when people hear you say, “touch me,” eh? Right for the boobs.
Suzanne Somers: I mean it spiritually, not physically.
Doug Ford: Yeah, whatever. So it’s called “Organic Girl,” and it goes like this:
Organic girl dropped by last night
For nothing in particular
Except to tell me again how beautiful and serene she feels
On uncooked vegetables and wheat germ fortified by bean sprouts
Mixed with yeast and egg whites on really big days
She not only meditates regularly, but looks at me like I should
And lectures me about meat and ice cream
And other aggressive foods I shouldn’t eat.
Nice. Okay, I got a two-parter for you. So, what’s the theme of this poem and you ever have any work done? You still look pretty good.
Doug Ford interviews Tanya Tagaq (award winning throat singer)
Doug Ford: Sorry, I had a real hard time there with your last name. If you’re in show business you might want to change it so that it’s easier to say and remember. Just smart business.
Tanya Tagaq: I like my name as it is, thank you.
Doug Ford: (Stares at her, a burning silence for 20 seconds.) Are you saying you don’t care about business?
Tanya Tagaq: No, I’m saying I care about my name.
Doug Ford: You’re First Nations, right? Am I right? Yeah, look, don’t you think if maybe you guys were better at business you wouldn’t have signed all those treaties where you gave up prime real estate for bracelets and you wouldn’t always be asking tax payers for hand-outs? So maybe business is important, okay? You get it? (Aggressively bangs question cues cards on table) Alright, so what the hell is throat singing anyway?
It’s a complicated and unresolved situation at this point, but in short, Ghomeshi, a popular radio personality in Canada, was fired from his job because his BDSM sexual proclivities– and the serious allegations stemming from them– were brought to the attention of his employers who decided, upon careful reflection, that they could no longer work with him as he damaged the brand. It is more intricate and terrible than just that, of course, and crisis management teams, wounded parties and insane lawsuits are now a part of the sex storm, but one thing that has happened with absolute certainty is that I now know way more about BDSM and the laws governing it than I ever imagined I would.
As I am a very adventurous and sensual person, I have suggested to my wife that we experiment with some BDSM in our life and she readily agreed. This is the BDSM Journal that I have been keeping.
Day 1
Submissive role: Rachelle
Dominant role: Me
Me: I DON’T WANT TO WATCH NASHVILLE TONIGHT!!
Rachelle: Pickle, I don’t think you’re supposed to yell, I think it’s more a tone thing.
Me: Oh.
Rachelle: Don’t worry. This is new for both of us, just try again.
Me: Okay.
Me: (Clears throat and delivers line sounding like Clint Eastwood) I don’t want to watch that damn Nashville tonight.
Rachelle: No honey, you sound like an old man
Me: Is that good? Does it turn you on?
Rachelle: No, not really. Let’s just watch Nashville, okay?
Grade of experience: 6 out of 10
Day 2
Dominant role: Rachelle
Submissive role: Me
Rachelle: We’re going to Ikea today to find some storage solutions and maybe a runner for the dining room table!
Me: I’m not feeling well.
Rachelle: OBEY ME, SLAVE!!
Me: Coldplay! Coldplay! Coldplay!
Rachelle: Honey, that’s not the safe word.
Me: I forgot it. What is it?
Rachelle: I’m not allowed to tell you. GET IN THE CAR, WE’RE GOING TO IKEA, MAGGOT FACE!
Me: Cold sore! Cold sore! Cold sore!
Rachelle; No, slave, that’s not it either! Put on your leash and get in the car, I COMMAND THEE!!
Me: Are we taking the dog with us?
Rachelle: YES!!
Grade of experience: 0 out of 10
Day 3
Dominant role: Me
Submissive role: Rachelle
Me: Please pass me the salad!
Rachelle: Yes, master.
Grade of experience: 9 out of 10
Day 4
Sadistic role: Rachelle
Masochistic role: Me
Rachelle: I have made bulgur for dinner tonight! It is an excellent source of fiber! Eat it now, worm!!
Me: I have been feeling a little clogged up lately. I deserve to be punished, master.
Rachelle: (Takes my glass of wine away)
Me: Hey! What the fuck???
Rachelle: You are forbidden from having any more wine this week! You drink too much and it’s bad for you, my cockroach!
Me: Cold war! Cold war! Cold war!
Rachelle: Pitiful fool, you’re not even close with the safe word! Teaches you for not listening to your master, now eat your bulgur!!
Me: Is there any Sriracha, at least?
Rachelle: NO! YOU FORGOT TO PICK UP AT THE GROCERY STORY! NOW, SILENCE! (puts on the soundtrack to Dirty Dancing)
Grade of experience: 0 out of 10
Lebowitz is in possession of a verbal brilliance that’s brusque and clarifying. Without hesitation or doubt, she can distill complex matters into weighty yet witty gems that are so elegant you want to wear them as if jewelry.
Massey Hall, which is as beautiful as an old movie, was about half full of her acolytes, and we all awaited her arrival in happy anticipation. Unfortunately, the talk was a brief, superficial and epigrammatic “Show.” I suppose I’d been hoping for something more along the lines of a conversation, an organic flowering of thought that wasn’t bound by subject, time or convention, but what Lebowitz delivered was more like a greatest hits, as if she was a tribute band of her own best material.
Ghomeshi, who was affable and charming, was little more than a straight man, with Lebowitz, like some Vaudeville comedian, delivering the punch. There was nothing that she said on Friday that I had not heard her say before. She was the Fran Lebowitz persona throughout, and that was kind of exciting in itself, but overall it was a thin and disappointing experience, leaving me feeling the way I usually do after leaving the Ex.
Taking the subway home, I couldn’t help but feel kind of sorry for Lebowitz. She burst onto the New York cultural scene back in the 70’s, amidst much fanfare and expectation, and has been unable to produce a written work (she considers herself a writer, not a Hollywood Square wit) since 1981, when she published a collection of essays called Social Studies.
Now 62, she complained– with customary charm– about other people’s children, how suburban New York had become, our impoverished arts culture, and information technology—a revolution she’s heard about rather than participated in. It was stellar cocktail party chatter, but not very sturdy, lacking in any desire toward self-awareness or examination.
When I think of her now, I imagine a ghost living in a timeless, self-created limbo. Pacing the same 15 Manhattan blocks, too frightened or unsure to realize her genius, she remains in the golden age of her potential, locked in a glittering city that will always be bigger, better and more real than any subsequent iteration. It’s ironic that New York, a city defined by velocity and constant change, is the place that Lebowitz, who seems the very opposite of these qualities, has chosen as a professional avatar.
]]>