I recently sent him some Medieval manuscript images that I found online and asked him to explain them to me. These are the results:
You should think of the images of the illuminated manuscripts of the 8th to the 15th century as the Instagram of the day. In this particular “post” we see a Medieval version of the Kardashian sisters as they conjure magical spells while encircling a tree. These young women are almost certainly witches, and when the community uncovered their black magic, they would have surely been tied to wild horses and torn apart while the townsfolk cheered and threw potatoes. (Note the surgically enhanced breasts. The cosmetic surgeons of the day used to insert clay molds beneath the skin in order to achieve the desired shape. Mortality rates were very high with this procedure. )
This is a highly skilled depiction of some very put-out dogs standing in a field. One of the dogs, the white one with the regal collar around its neck and the small erection, looks slightly ashamed. He likely offended the commoner dogs (note the mottled colours and blunt expressions that characterize the serf animals) by questioning their religious values and then attempting to rape them. Think of this panel as one that prefigures Cute Overload.
Monks did more than just illuminate manuscripts. For recreation they played other monasteries in a Medieval version of Ultimate. Of course, a frisbee had not yet been invented, so the monks used a scapula, also known as a human shoulder blade. These were festive occasions for the monks, characterized by excessive drinking (They brewed beer, too) and the ribald singing of team songs. This image of the bat is the team crest of the Carthusian Bats, a formidable franchise known for their vows of silence and ferocity on the field.
This is the equivalent of a Medieval paparazzi shot or stolen cell phone photo. It captures the King and Queen in an unguarded and intimate moment as they enjoy a hot tub. The Queen, obviously spent after intercourse in the hot water, catches her breath, while the robust King, carrying his Holy Ejaculate Saucer, heads off to enjoy the pleasures of his many concubines. This image should be thought of as one you might find on 4chan.
The beatified and sacred have gathered in this image for an annual event in which awards are given out to the holy. It happened once a year, was very secretive, and is vaguely analogous to the Academy Awards. The holy would each have a vote, which they cast in private, on such categories as, “Best Performance While Living Atop A Pillar,” or “Most Holy Self-Flagelator Of The Year.” It was very much looked forward to by the participants, and they all hoped to win, even if they took a public stance of humility and abasement—just look at the attention they paid to their wardrobe for this event.
]]>
This was greeted by jeers and laughter from the crowd, and pretty much immediately, John Tory, Ford’s primary opponent, issued a statement accusing him of using “the classic refuge of racists, anti-Semites and homophobes” when he said this.
The next day, Doug tried to clarify his remarks:
“Matter of fact, my wife is Jewish. Her mother is Jewish. And they have to come after me? You got to be joking. My wife was furious last night at John Tory’s statement. It’s disgusting.”
But as it turns out, the Fords are a well—known family of evangelical Christians, including Ford’s wife, Karla.
As I used to drink with Rob Ford back at Carleton University in Ottawa, I am considered a trusted member of the Ford inner circle, and was asked by Doug to come in and consult on the election, offering some advice on the campaign and how best to deal with the sensitive matter of race relations.
These are some of the thoughts that I shared with Doug:
Come out swinging against ISIS!!
Paint your opponents as people who are weak on beheadings, and then in classic Doug Ford mode, intimidation level set to 11, issue a challenge to ISIS to just come and try to behead you. You let them know that if they want a war with Ford Nation, then they can have it! The Jewish community will love you for it! (From this point forward, the War Against Isis will be a primary plank in your election campaign.)
Exposing your neck for the cameras, ask, “Is John Tory willing to put his neck on the line for you?”
Demand to know if John Tory looked at any of the stolen celebrity sex pictures. When he denies that he did, in a mocking voice, ask, “ What? You don’t want to see Jessica Simpson naked, what’s the matter with you?”
You must then imply that you have evidence that he has indeed looked at the photographs, and that he is a sex criminal and a liar. Say it “disgusts” you, as the public loves when you do that, and then challenge John Tory to a boxing match for charity, perhaps to create a fund to keep West Africans who might have Ebola out of Toronto. When he says, no, say, “Geez, you’ve spent so much money on cosmetic surgery that I keep forgetting how very, very old you are. ”
Do not use the expression CHINGLISH when referencing Toronto’s Asian community.
Make note that the Asians are more than just a people who work like dogs, but also have a great love of gambling, and that as a businessman, you applaud both their willingness to take risks and to work hard. Let them know that you would gladly fight by their side against ISIS.
The girl in front of me in the line-up was squarely built and dressed like a farmer. She had the red hair of an outsider and looked quiet, like she was still trying to decide who she was to become. On her right wrist there was a tattoo, a vividly green box with the word LIFE beneath it– a rebellion of optimism. You could see how the liberty of a new city and the excitement of an unwritten life, just now, finally developing, was animating her eyes, her eyes, which were so alert and watching everything, just waiting for what was to happen next.
]]>
As many of you know, Rob and I were enrolled at Carleton University in Ottawa at the same time, and it was at a local pub—Tiddlers—where we became last call drinking acquaintances. We’ve stayed in a weird contact over the years, frequently messaging one another when up late and partying alone. This is my most recent correspondence with the mayor, which took place sometime after two in the morning on Wednesday.
Rob: FORD NATION KNOCKING!!!
Me: Rob!!
Rob: BRAIN ON FIRE! All sorts of ideas!! Need quick feedback!!
Me: You always make me feel like I’m on a game show, love it!
Rob: The Quebec charter of values thing, you know, where the French people say you’re not allowed to wear the jew hat and stuff? I like it.
Me: If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything!
Rob: Damn straight! I’m free market, not going to tell people what they can’t do, but if you live in Ford Nation, you’re going to have to walk the walk, get it? If you have to be a weirdo and ride a bicycle, then you have to wear an Argo’s jersey when you do it.
Me: It’s brilliant, Rob, it can’t miss! What happens if you’re culturally un-Ford Nation and exploit a public resource like a library?
Rob: You got to see Iron Man III and eat a Cronut burger.
Me: And then wear the t-shirt, “ I survived the Cronut Burger! Ford For Mayor 2014!”
Rob: Yeah!! Ford Nation: Not as diverse as you’d think.
Me: How about, Ford Nation: Strength in Unity?
Rob: Love it!!! Man, you really GET the heart of Ford Nation! I miss having these late night jam sessions in person!
Me: Me, too, big guy, me, too.
Rob: Know what else I miss?
Me: Tiddlers!
Rob: Tiddlers RULZ!!!!! But dude, I miss Frosh Week. I could fucken live in Frosh Week. I would take my vacations there if I could. Fuck Florida!!
Me: Frosh Week was awesome. But look, what happens to vegans? They’re not Ford Nation at all.
Rob: If you want to be vegan and live in Ford Nation, then you have to be a stripper once a week, too. Don’t care about their religion. Chicks only, tho.
Me: What if somebody isn’t a man of the people? You know, not the type to go to visit people in public housing and put campaign stickers on their door frames?
Rob: Oh! Just got another idea!
Me: Great!
Rob: My fantasy hockey team?
Me: Yeah?
Rob: Gonna call it, Everybody’s Twerking For The Weekend! After the Loverboy song!
Me: Genius.
Rob: Honest, I think it’s the best thing I ever thought of.
Me: Me, too.
Rob: Hey, you see those pictures of that bear chasing the bison down the highway?
Me: Yeah.
Rob: You the bear or the bison?
Me: Not sure. You?
Rob: Both, little buddy, both.
Back in the early 90’s, while both of us were very stoned at a frat party in Montreal, we played a game of ping-pong. Let me tell you, playing ping-pong while high is just about the funniest thing you can do in the entire universe. I don’t care what dimension you’re talking about. It is a blast. This is the conversation I had with the young man who would later become the Liberal leader of Canada:
Me: Does your father sleep with a lot of models?
Justin: He dated Christy Turlington for a couple of months.
Me: She’s in that George Michael video Freedom! Sexiest video ever!! Did you ever see her changing or anything?
Justin: No.
Me: Rip-off. Sometimes you just gotta ask yourself what the point is of having a dad who’s the Prime Minister.
Justin: He’s not the Prime Minister! It’s been like a century since he was in office!
Me: I think he is.
Justin: No way!!!
Me: You’re not very informed, you’re very weak on policy.
Justin: Are you high? I am really high.
Me: Totally, and I can’t believe Claudia Schiffer is engaged to David Copperfield. He’s creepy. It’s like his eyes never move.
Justin: Do you remember how to serve in this game?
Me: I don’t think you do serve.
Justin: What do you do then?
Me: I need to think for a second.
Justin: Oh, I know, you just bounce it over the net! (throws ball into net)
Me: You have to do it again.
Justin: No!! It’s your serve now!
Me: Swerve? What does that mean?
Justin: Serve!!!
Me: Stop switching between French and English, you’re fucking me up!!
Justin: Just throw the ball!
Me: (throws the ball)
Justin: (swats at ball, like a cat, with his open palm)
Me: You’re supposed to use the paddle!
Justin: Are you sure? That doesn’t feel right.
Me: This is the longest ping-pong game in the history of ping-pong.
Justin: I know, it’s like we’ve been playing for days.
Me: It’s an endurance sport. Who invented it, was it the Egyptians?
Justin: I think they made the balls out of scarab shells and papyrus paper.
Me: The Egyptians were so fucking cool.
Justin: What’s the score.
Me: It’s 9 to 3 for me.
Justin: Right.
]]>Rob: You hear about the fucking cronut burger????
Me: It’s all anybody in Toronto can talk about!!
Rob: It’s a fucking doughnut that’s been bred with a croissant and a bacon cheeseburger! I want to eat about seven of them!
Me: It’s made 100 people sick! The city (YOU) shut down the stand at the CNE!
Rob: No way! That doesn’t sound like the free market! Gonna fuckin’ look into that. Gotta let the people decide.
Me: I love the word cronut.
Rob: I love being drunk.
Me: Me, too, buddy, me, too.
Rob: Cronut, it sounds like the fart noise you make after you drink chocolate milk.
Me: It sounds like the name of a military transport vehicle.
Rob: Or like the sound of fucking Hulk Hogan’s arm breaking when I arm wrestle him on Friday!!!
Me: You really doing that?
Rob: It’s what Da Mayor’s got to do. Can’t back down from bullies. Rule numero uno. It’s good fuckin’ governance.
Me: You should get him to eat a cronut before the match so he’s poisoned and weak.
Rob: Good thinking, gonna get my people on that, make a cronut task force. Get special cronuts for Hogan. He’s a bitch.
Me: He’s a big bitch
Rob: Like his daughter, tho. She be spicy! Anyway, I like this cronut game. Let’s keep playing!
Me: Cronut: A verb, slang for shitting the bed.
Rob: LOLLOLOLOLOLOLLLOO!!!
Me: The Cronuts: the name of an Improv comedy troupe.
Rob: Cronut: the sound your head makes when ur really drunk and you fall down!
Me: Saint Cronut: The patron saint of irony.
Rob: Cronut: The sound two reporter’s heads make when you fucking bash ‘em together!
Me: Cronut: The traditional Serbian ceremony performed when a boy passes into manhood.
Rob: Getting a cronut: What you say when you mean you’re going out to score drugs!
Me: My Little Cronut: A pet name for your lover.
Rob: Rusty Old Crunut: What you call a crack whore.
Me: Okay, I gotta go to bed. Rob, great chatting with you, and remember, you’re just governing the shit out of this city. Keep up the good work!
Rob: Don’t I know it! Alright, think I’m gonna go get me a cronut right now, gotta stay alert, get some of the cronuts for my arm wrestling thing! Fuck Hulk Hogan!!! Fuck him!!! Wonder if his daughter will be there?
This is my response:
“ What a wonderful and interesting opportunity for a cultural exchange! I think that Rachelle and I would be very keen in such an arrangement, as working at home alone as freelance writer while Rachelle is off at work each day, has left me lonely as I have nothing to keep me company but my masculine energy. I sure could use somebody to talk to, and as you know, I really do like to talk! All sorts of talk, in fact, and you should know I would be really happy to engage in role-playing talk if it were to help Emiko with her English!
Does Emiko like anime and manga? I do.
And shy is cute. But tell me, does shy also mean submissive? Although I love Japanese culture and the women who populate it, I have to admit that I am not up on a lot of the culture nuances. I think submissive is a good quality, as well as a complete lack of confidence and a slightly frightened deference to age.
As you know, Rachelle and I have a Miniature Dachshund named Heidi. All the Japanese girls go crazy when they see me walking her on Bloor. They run over in beautiful Asian waves, squealing and bowing and cooing and stroking our dog with their curious fingers, and it’s so beautiful I feel like I’m in a heavenly nest made entirely of Japanese girls! Anyhow, what I mean to say is that I am sure Emiko (can I call her Iko?) would just love her. However, our dog does not obey me at all, nobody does, and it would be really great if Iko was obedient in nature. (Not a condition, just a statement.)
We have a spare bedroom, but there is no door on it, and you have to pass through that room in order to get to our one washroom. I make several trips to the bathroom each night, but I am quiet and very discreet, so I’m sure that Iko would have no problem with my shadowy, forbidden, paternal presence.
In shorts (Ha! I meant to write in short!) I think we have a perfect set-up for Iko and would very much look forward to tutoring her over the summer!
Let us know if this works for you folks!
Michael Murray
]]>
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Wow.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Fucking wow.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Don’t think that guy will be finishing the race. What a shame. : (
@TOPDOGMAYOR: It breaks your heart when an athlete is injured like that.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Toronto salutes Boston, city of Bravery, Brawn, Brains and Beans and Lettuce.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: We are all Boston Beans today.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Fucking hate terrorists.
@TOPDOGMAOR: White or brown terrorists? Send in your votes!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Should decide this once and for all on the football grid, like men!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Who is your favourite football player? Free parking spot to person who submits best answer.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Authorities saying bomb was made from Crock Pot full of nails and BBs.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Like my Crock Pots to be full of chili. LOL.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Can’t believe they canceled Bruins-Pens game. Must be very serious situation.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Toronto, you are safe, I am at the helm.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Probably won’t go to Florida this week, but if I do, contact: councillor_dford@toronto.ca in case of emerg.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: So many heroes. Like that guy in the cowboy hat.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Free lifetime parking spot in Toronto for guy in cowboy hat!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: He is a cowboy, on a steel horse he rides! Guns N’ Roses, man, Guns N’ Roses.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Suspects in bombing ID’d!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Wouldn’t want to be wearing white ball cap in Beantown today!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Hope Ben Afflect makes movie about this. Argo ruled!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Now donning Red Sox baseball cap in honour of victims. Suggest you do the same.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Send poison in the mail to this Mayor, expect a world of trouble.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Elvis impersonator terrorists, I am watching you.
@TOPDODMAYOR: Some cop killed in wild shootout at Harvard!!!
@ TOPDOGMAYOR: Evil doers carjack classy Mercedes and knock-off 7-11!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: It’s like a Tarrantino flick. Completely fucking awesome.
@TOPDOFMAYOR: Heart goes out to family of fallen hero.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Hope guy with cowboy hat gets involved and kicks ass!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Really like to see Uma Thurman character involved, too.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Not a movie, but feels like movie.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: HUGE FUCKING SHOOT-OUT IN BEAN TOWN!!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: One Borat guy now dead, looking for other!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: All of Boston shut down! Fucking love Boston!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Love to be mayor of Boston. Got big, brass balls!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Dead guy was athlete. Shame when athlete dies young, even if terrorist athlete.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: @Dougford Can’t delete last Tweet. WTF???
@TOPDOGMAYOR: MAYOR FORD DOES NOT CONDONE TERRORISM IN ANY FORM, EVEN BY ATHLETES.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Other Borat now hiding in boat. On land. What a moron!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Interesting. Boston seems to be doing fine without mass transit. Must be saving a shitload.
@TOPDOGMAYOR: No vowels in the Borat names. Weird. How do you say them??
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Little Borat captured!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Great day for Boston, great day for freedom!!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: Bet they riot in streets in celebration! Love to be there!! Go Boston!!!
@TOPDOGMAYOR: USA!!USA!!!USA!!!
]]>
Dear Michael:
It was my honour to take your virginity last night. For your first time, you were certainly adequate and I commend you.
Best wishes,
Prime Minister Thatcher
Dear Margaret:
Wow!
Just wow!
I guess I thought it was going to be softer or something, but man, it was still great and strange and gross and awesome! Just thinking about it now, I can summon your talcum powder scent and hear your hurried, instructional breathing once again.
I had no idea that there were different “positions.” I think I would like to try every “position” with you.
Love,
Michael
XO
Dear Michael:
Your youthful enthusiasm and attempts at a British accent while drunk amuse me. However, I must candidly admit that I do not see a future for us, or even for you in the unforgiving economy of the real world that awaits you after university, but for now you are functional.
Please call my driver (I gave you his personal number three days ago, remember?) at 10:45 tonight.
Regards,
Prime Minister Thatcher
Margaret:
I had never done it in a Limo before!
Let me tell you, you are my Falkland Islands.
You are my one, true prom.
You are the Vice-Principal I always dreamed about, and I really appreciate how you’re helping me with my elocution.
Love,
Mike
xo
PS: By the way, Great Britain seems like a name that holds itself in very high regard. I mean, if the USA started to call itself Awesome America, would you go to war with them?
Mr. Murray:
Great Britain would defend herself in any way that she saw fit!
Would you like that? Would you like if the first lady of Great Britain began to defend herself? Are you ready for that? I control the entire military and police force, you know. I have an iron fist.
Directly,
The Prime Minister of Great Britain
PS: How does the phrase “sado-monetarism” strike you?
Margaret:
There is a karate superhero with a smoking gun of a hand called Iron Fist. Are you named after him? He is way cool, a kind of ninja who pals around with a big black guy named Power Man. They fight evil wherever they encounter it, kind of like you and apartheid.
You’re cheating on your husband, you know. How does that feel?
By the way, I do not understand “sado-monetarism,” but if it’s a position with you, I am willing to try it!
I want your Iron Fist, placed ever so gently, in my mouth.
Love,
Michael Murray
Xoxxo
I never heard from her again and it turns out I completely misunderstood what apartheid was all about.
]]>
“In this picture I was thinking about the colour of the car, how it was like the bottom of one of those above-ground swimming pools that the poor people put up in their backyards. I grew up with a real pool. We were rich. Pools are a good way of excluding people and creating pecking orders. The football guys liked to hangout at our pool, but without the pool, who knows? I was also wondering about all the sex that took place in that car. A lot, I bet.
“ In this photograph I was thinking about what it would feel like to shoot a monkey, the Ikea Monkey in particular. What was his name? Genesis? Something stupid. Anyway, ever since that monkey became a big media story I’ve been having fantasies about shooting it. Not sure why. It might be the little, gay coat that bugs me. It’s not natural that a boy monkey is dressed that way. “
“ Blow Jobs and the way that pets look at you funny when you’re having sex.”
“I don’t want to sound vain because I’m a man of the people, but I was thinking that I look good in hats. A lot of people say that you can measure a politician’s success by how natural and at ease he looks in different hats. (Don’t know what the policy is for chicks). I think a lot of my political success has to do with my ability to look good in a hat.
“ I probably should have been thinking about the owl, but I was deep in thought right there considering the works of Roman poet and philosopher Lucretious and his views on Epicurean principles and Atomism. I think that a lot of people misunderstand hedonism and I was trying to untangle that philosophical quandary and than suddenly I was like, “Oh fuck, an owl!”
