The first image that I saw from the hostage crisis in Sydney was this:
My eye was immediately drawn to the lovely, young woman on the left, her eyes closed as if she could not bear to watch the nightmare she was now living. Softly, it seemed, as if growing faint with disbelief, she and another woman were forced to place the gunman’s sign up in the coffee shop window– just above a cheerful and familiar stencil of Merry Christmas— for the entire world to see. Something very different and beyond our comprehension was replacing the world we knew and loved, and it didn’t matter whether the white Arabic lettering on an ominous black background (making it look like some sort of pirate flag) was authentic ISIS or not, it felt like ISIS and that was sufficient.
To me, this photograph could only mean one thing, and that was that something beautiful and loved was going to be slaughtered before our eyes. Somebody’s perfect child, somebody who was falling in love and building a life, was about to die in the name of a politics few could truly understand. This young woman immediately became a stand-in for every high school girl I had ever known, every waitress or barista I had a secret crush on, in short, every glowing and ascendant person who made my day, or even just the idea of my day, a little brighter.
Halfway around the world in Pennsylvania, another tragedy, one much less publicized, but also containing a thread linking it back to the Middle East, was unfolding. Brad Stone, a marine who had been deployed in Iraq but was now walking with a cane and suffering PTS, was murdering his family. He killed 6 people and seriously wounded another before stabbing himself to death in the nearby woods.
Man Haron Monis, the deeply trouble Iranian-born refugee who caused so much havoc and fear in Sydney, appears to have been so completely deranged as to be almost divorced from politics, but whatever madness possessed him drew him to adopt radical and violent ideologies. Stone, who had fought in Iraq, returned damaged, beyond the nation’s capacity or willingness to salvage. Both of these men proved to be murderous examples of the collateral damage associated with whatever Orwellian title you want to give the ongoing conflicts (War on Terror, Clash of Civilization, Oil Wars) in the Middle East.
Such violent, tragic outbursts are not political statements against policy, but are the vivid, real life consequences of the policy. If a land is bombed and destroyed by an invading nation, both those that do the invading and those that suffer at their hands are damaged in irreparable and unimaginable ways—the experience poisons the soul. There is no winner in such a war, except for the economic machinery that profits from it. The rage, pain and loss of those on the ground can never be measured or contained, and will forever bleed back into the world, manifesting as a furious, sucking whirlpool of such force that everybody is affected.
]]>The statue should distill the essence of the Toronto Maple Leafs and their relationship to their fans. Here are some suggestions:
1. Fans in Maple Leaf jerseys with brown paper bags over their heads, as was the custom in the rink during the years when Harold Ballard owned the team.
2. Like the famous pop art LOVE statue in New York City, the words:
“APPALING INSULTING TRADES”
would stand like an unfixable reminder outside of the arena.
3. Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, drunk and wearing a Maple Leaf jersey, being thrown-out of a game by security after he told a woman sitting behind him that she should “ Go to Iran and get raped and shot.” (This story would be engraved on the base of the statue.) The mayor, who is off-balance and holding up a “We’re number one,” foam finger on his hand, would have a proud and defiant look on his face, while behind him stands a stern, no-fun looking woman (very plain) wearing a Hajib as security drags him out.
4. Beloved Leaf goon Tie Domi, with a homicidal look on his face, holding his hockey stick above his head as if a chainsaw that he’s about to use to cut through the flesh of his opponent. (Probably cowering European victim)
5. A really long-line up to the washroom, with the faces of the people waiting expressing irritation, desperation and sadness.
6. Another pop art rendering, this would be a statue of Lanny Macdonald’s mustache from his glory days in the 70’s.
7. The Muskoka 5—This was the name given to a group of veteran players (Mats Sundin, Tomas Kaberle, Darcy Tucker, Bryan McCabe and Pavel Kubina) who would not waive their no trade clauses, the theory being that they were too comfortable and would rather play out the season without fighting for the play-offs, and then spending the off-season at their luxury cottages in the Muskoka region. These players would be honoured with statues, one on a Jet Ski, one smiling on the golf course, two drinking beer on a dock together and the final one with his arm around a sexy woman in a bikini who is not his wife.
8. Brian Burke, cantankerous former President and GM of the Toronto Maple Leafs, screaming at members of a cowering media.
9. Eric Lindros looking vulnerable, confused and beaten.
10. A number of fans, of the Bro variety, many without shirts and painted blue, with expressions of despair, disbelief and profound sorrow as the Leafs coughed up a three goal lead to the Boston Bruins in the 7th game of the play-off series with only a few minutes left to go.
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That’s an awful lot.
Obviously, this has nothing much to do with the quality of the films and everything to do with the marketing of the films. In order to feel invested and fully participatory in the event, we, as audience, go out to see as many nominees as possible– even if the movie happens to be Lincoln. It’s kind of like Black Friday for movies, only without discounts. What’s particularly funny about this cynical display is that one of the prime motivators for the audience in seeing the movies is to simply confirm that we have MUCH better taste than the Academy. In fact, we will later Live-Tweet about what a horrible, self-congratulatory and vulgar spectacle it all is. But of course, we end up paying them for the privilege of doing so, rendering the ironies so plentiful that it actually gets tiring to think about them.
No matter, this year, the movie that most people are expecting to win for Best Picture is Argo. The film, for those of you who haven’t seen it, is based on the rescue of six US diplomats during the Iran Hostage Crisis of 1979.
Personally, I think that the movie is fine and little more. The one thing that really stood out for me was the opening, a graphic novel kind of prologue in which the historical background for the movie was efficiently and elegantly set. I’d give them an award for that, but for the rest?
Meh.
But Argo probably will win.
Here’s why:
First off, the Academy has always favoured the historical, and this one is appealingly set in an era that all Academy members can vividly recall (they’re at the center of history!)– so for them the movie is kind of like flipping through an old high school yearbook. It’s a story told through the experience of white people, about the vulnerability of white people isolated by impenetrable dark-skinned people, getting rescued by white people.
In short, Argo champions idealized versions of the audience that’s watching the film. This is a relatively typical Oscar construct though and should be considered practically boilerplate. Where Argo really scores with Academy voters is in embedding Hollywood into the core of the story.
In Argo, for this whole scheme to work, the CIA has to recruit Hollywood to make a fake film, one that will serve as cover so that the hostages can be rescued. Suddenly, people working in Hollywood get to see themselves in a kind of romantic, even noble light. Competent, funny and successful, they have brash, cynical exteriors, but pure hearts. Working in secrecy behind the scenes and out-smarting everyone they meet with impressive sangfroid, they’re the coolest people in the room—the work they’re doing important, rather than self-serving and shallow. And this speaks directly to the Academy voter, allowing them to imagine themselves in the best possible light, so yes, if I had to bet, I would bet on Argo for Best Picture.
]]>These are a collection of Taliban Tweets:
The Taliban cannot tolerate biased media.
Too long have we been mocked and misunderstood.#Unclesamisunclean
8 puppets killed, 3 vehicles destroyed in Langham battle: bit.ly/XnJr2m
Victory! A Mujhadeed has seized a motorbike from the unholy invaders!
Invader General Petraeus should be shot by relatives from his mistress’s family or stoned to death.
Mondays always make me feel blue, and this cold is not helping. Sinuses clogged.
@Puppetobama what sort of man would kiss another?! It is unholy!
I do not like the rain. May it rain on America for an eternity!
An invading infidel walks into a market and asks for nuts and the patriot vendor says, “ We have no nuts, puppet!!”
The Taliban has enduring patience and long-term Jihadist strategies against the malicious plots of the enemy!
Mortars hit infidel invader camps. The Blood of our enemies flows: bit.lu?MoYr6h
I fear that one of my wives has fallen out of love with me. We used to laugh together so much, but now, never.
The Taliban will not abandon the struggle for freedom and will not pardon you until the withdrawal of your last soldier. #Unclesamisunclean
RT: America you are a Big Mac! Fat and greasy!
Taliban fun fact: The Pathans are notorious for family feuds, often the result of disputes over zar, zan or zamin – gold, women or land.
@anglinajolie You are a whore.
A woman is like having a flower. You water it and keep it at home for yourself to look at and smell. It is not supposed to be taken out of the house to be smelled. #truth
Landmines eliminate 2 US-nato tanks in Khan-e-Sheen district: bit.ly/SFi7oA
2 puppets of special-forces killed in bomb attack.
RT The Lakers have contacted Phil Jackson. He’s reportedly interested in the job. #WeWantPhil bit.ly/SWgLK8
@Amir Please feel free to DM me—bored at work.
Taliban shout-out to Aarif who proudly declared that he had killed seven male members of a Mahsud family for having insulted his wife, and so far only his brother had been killed in the revenge!
I wish Taylor Swift were one of my wives. I would cover her in the finest raiments and play for her the rubab.
