CANADIAN NOVELIST

The spur for the discussion was (surprise surprise) the recent launch of the Canadian arm of the Huffington Post, which Smith dubs “that unapologetic exploiter of eager, clever people.” He notes that the HuffPo, which doesn’t pay its writers, is being sued south of the border by a group of ex-contributors who “are keenly aware that the online magazine was recently sold to AOL for $315-million.”

The matter has prompted heated debate in both countries about the difference between “canny self promotion and slave labour,”  Smith writes. He continues:

The two sides are neatly divided by generation. Older writers, who have made a living from selling journalism, ghostwriting and corporate writing and who see their writing as a product with a quantifiable monetary value, are horrified that anyone would collaborate with the HuffPo, the Mordor of magazines. It’s not a start-up run by ambitious recent graduates, not an environmental or human-rights project, not a good cause of any kind, but the cash-cow possession of a giant media conglomerate. There is no question that the HuffPo can afford to pay, and pay well. You’d think it would be an easy target for a concerted boycott by Canadian writers.

But a recent graduate would say: It’s great for my career to publish (which is exactly what HuffPo says). I can publish an opinion piece, basically a blog entry, say anything I want, not be subject to rigorous editing or have to do any difficult research, and then I have something to my name. I’m building my brand. This will be good for me when I send my completed book of essays to an e-publisher, or when I go to investors to look for money to start my own online magazine (that I will then sell to AOL for a zillion jillion dollars).

Smith acknowledges that times have changed, and that older writers came of age in an era when there were limited outlets for their work, and as such, most were profitable; and making your mark was easier. Young writers today tend to wonder, “How are we supposed to get our voices known in an infinitely wider and more crowded room unless we speak loudly and often? We can’t afford to wait to be paid for it.”

The younger generation often doesn’t expect to be compensated for their imaginative work, Smith says, but maybe that’s not their primary concern. They’d rather have the exposure that a hugely popular site like HuffPo can provide. “They can get famous fast this way, and it’s gratifying to have a huge audience,” he writes.

What’s more, these writers can sound off on whatever topic they wish, and, unlike old-school young journalists, today’s aspiring scribes “never have to prove themselves by chasing down police radio calls on the night shift, or by writing a dozen numbing profiles on local hair-salon owners. They can go right into wise observations on Iraq and gender roles.”

Perhaps it is true that for today’s young writers, having a prominent place to share their thoughts and views is more important than making money. And fair enough. Problem is, they’re not operating in a vacuum. As Smith notes, their willingness to work for free stands to hurt the old farts. “If they don’t play along in the work-for-pay convention, then all of our incomes are undercut.”

Sadly, the argument that you get what you pay for becomes far less compelling when sites like the Huffington Post can make hundreds of millions on the backs of an army of narcissistic young slave labourers.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

What on earth did you put in these brownies?!

Police in the provincial capital were called to an office building last week following reports of a possible poisoning. According to the Victoria Times Colonist: “Three employees, all at once, had been taken to hospital with similar symptoms, including light-headedness, numbness in the limbs and disorientation.”

“Investigations led to the office refrigerator and some brownies which, it turned out, had been baked with marijuana.”

Apparently the brownies were brought in by a woman who had discovered them in her freezer at home. Her stoner son later admitted to police that the treats were his, that he’d made them a year ago, and that – true to form! – he had forgotten about them.

“No action was taken, even though a criminal charge of possession of a controlled substance or administering a noxious substance could have been laid,” the Times Colonist notes. “However, it is expected that the son will take part in community work to hold him accountable.”

Part of that work will no doubt include hooking up those of his Mom’s office workers who tried the brownies, didn’t go to hospital, enjoyed the “light-headedness, numbness in the limbs and disorientation” – and want to know where they can’t get some more of that good shit.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

A devilish delight, but at what cost?

THE CANADIAN NATIONAL EXHIBITION, Toronto’s annual summer fair, is a nexus of summer-eating naughtiness, a place where fatty food lovers can really get their fix.

Last year deep fried butter was the talk of the town. This year, it’s the donut cheeseburger, which has two Krispy Kreme donuts for a bun. This heart attack waiting to happen comes to the CNE courtesy of Epic Burgers and Waffles, a local proprietor which put out a press release earlier this week to promote their public health hazard. “The salty/sweet combination is a perfect convergence of all that is insanely good,” the company boasts.

But it comes at a cost.

This donut cheesburger is only $8, but its total calorie count is 1,500 – almost an entire day’s caloric intake for many folks – and that’s without including a fried egg and bacon, which can be added for a couple of bucks, and pounds, extra. To put this devilish dish in perspective, the Toronto Star notes that a double Big Mac (four patties) is 700 calories, while KFC’s Double Down is only 540 calories.

Epic Burgers is proud of its belt-/heart-bursting creations. Its other signature dish The Behemoth, a burger sandwiched between two grilled cheese sandwiches. Makes you wonder if these guys will be forced to take out extra insurance at the CNE, in case someone croaks after eating one their devilish but no doubt delicious creations.

At the very least they would do well to have a defibrillator close by.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

LIVING IN ONTARIO is sort of like being condemned to life as a perpetual teenager. I say that because this province has stupid laws dating back to Ontario’s tight-assed-Protestant days that give the government strict control over where alcohol is sold and who can sell it.

Residents can only buy beer, wine and booze from a limited number of distributors. The Beer Store (as our chain of retail outlets is so originally called) is owned by three large international brewing consortiums, effectively a foreign-controlled monopoly. Our liquor and wine store, the LCBO, is government-owned and operated.

The tightly regulated system means relatively stable pricing and selection, but the stock also could be seen as limited. What’s more, locations are few and far between, even in the heart of downtown Toronto where I live. Worst of all, the LCBO and Beer Store are closed on holidays, meaning mad, last-minute dashes and insane lineups the day before (and good luck to ya if you didn’t stock up properly!)

So it’s interesting to see this Angus Reid survey for the Ontario Convenience Store Association that shows 60 per cent of Ontario residents “support expanding the province’s alcohol retailing system to allow beer and wine to be sold by more types of retailers.”(The survey’s sponsor obviously has a vested interest here, but it’s still a significant finding, I think).

In support of the survey, the OCSA has launched an online campaign, Free Our Beer! “Wouldn’t it be great if we could run down to the local store to more conveniently buy beer or wine to entertain our friends?” the association says on the website. “Our alcohol retailing system is badly out of date. Let’s broaden the system – Let’s free our beer and wine so that more responsible retailers can give hard-working people in Ontario what they’re asking for.”

Other Canadian provinces like Quebec and Newfoundland “already offer the convenience of alcohol in convenience stores,” the OCSA notes. To head off the argument that convenience stores might be more lax about selling to young folks, the association cites a recent “underage secret shopper” test it conducted that showed convenience stores do a better job than either the LCBO or Beer Store at “keeping age‐restricted products from minors.”

The bottom line, OCSA president Dave Bryans says: “Ontario voters are simply asking for more convenience – like being able to pick up some beer for their BBQ on Canada Day. That’s not a lot to ask.”

It really isn’t. Selling beer and wine at corner stores – or better yet, private specialty shops – is a fine idea that should be embraced by a civilized society that respects its citizens. But when your province’s leader is known as “Premier Dad,” you know you’re due for a big buzz kill.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

The Edge and Bono in T'rono (U2.com)

U2′S MAMMOTH 360° tour – or spaceship, as it were – landed in Toronto last night, offering compelling evidence of why they’re the world’s biggest band: these lads know how to put on one hell of a show.

It was a performance that was originally supposed to have happened in July 2010, but Bono’s back surgery put the kibosh on that plan. So there we all were, one year later: 65,000 of us packed into Rogers Centre (nee SkyDome) for a concert that delivered everything you’d expect – and pay good money for – a U2 show to deliver.

There was, of course, a seemingly endless parade of huge hits, played on an elaborately designed stage, “The Claw” – a cross between a circus tent and a spaceship, or something like that – by a band that I’m certain is the longest-running act still consistently working (aside from maybe the Stones). Indeed, when frontman Bono noted it was 20 years ago that the band gathered in the studio to record the seminal album Achtung Baby, I kind of felt like an old fart.

The CN Tower gets in on the act. (Photo: Penelope Chester)

Earlier that evening the retractable roof of the dome was shut, and on one of the more sweltering days so far this summer. Fortunately, the lid was cranked opened just before opening act Interpol hit the stage, and the balmy evening breeze blowing through the ballpark made for a quintessential summer-concert experience. The open roof also allowed for the CN Tower to be incorporated into the concert’s impressive light show (wonder how many other bands can make that happen?)

Despite a rather cynical review in the Toronto Star this morning, I think it would be hard not to have enjoyed this show: after all, as I said, it was a delightful summer night and U2 performed most of their top tunes, with gusto. I’m sure there were die-hard supporters disappointed that the band didn’t do more of their lesser-known material. But for me, a casual yet long-time and appreciative U2 fan who’s never seen them in concert, it was great to be treated to live performances of the band’s biggest hits from the past 30 years (even if they have played them a million times before).

Not everyone in the crowd seemed totally into it, mind you. Our seats were in the lower bowl area, and many around us ended up sitting down at certain points during the show. Fair enough, it was a Monday night, and beer was more than $10 a pop, so good times probably weren’t going to be had by all. And I don’t want to be too judgmental here, but still this is rock and roll people. Is it too much of an effort to get off your duffs for a couple of hours and boogie?

No matter. It didn’t take away from the enjoyment of witnessing the biggest band of my generation strut their stuff live on stage – albeit from hundreds of feet away. Filling a stadium with 65,000 fans used to be the norm for top musical acts; these days I can’t think of another touring band (that’s not part of a festival) that could draw anywhere close to that many.

U2 is still going strong, but the band is also a blast from the past. And what a blast.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

A SIGN OF the times – literally. Spotted this store on the way home from Montreal over the long weekend and had to stop to snap a pic.

You know the cost of living is going up when Brockville, Ont.’s “Dollar Giant” becomes “Dollar and 25 Cents Giant.”

Don’t know what’s more amusing about the signage tweak: that the owners did such a shoddy job attempting to change the “Nothing over a dollar” line (couldn’t they have just taken out the “a” in the “over a” part?”); or that switching it to 1.25 renders the “Dollar Giant” brand – and its hook, “Nothing over a dollar” – totally redundant.

Never mind the fact that the proprietors didn’t bother to match the size of the original font when adding the “1.25.”

Talk about cheap.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

A VANCOUVER-AREA

His “main guitar” of 43 years, “it’s a very altered, but very real 1953 Gibson Les Paul Model – Serial # 30621 (stamped on the back of the headstock),” the guy notes. “It’s one of the lightest Gibson Les Pauls, and the only one of its colour that I’ve ever seen,” he adds.

The poor dude goes on to list the many other modifications he’s made through the years – and there are a lot – before concluding that “this is a one-of-a-kind instrument in so many ways. It is completely recognizable, down to every screw on it.”

Get the drift, guitar-burglar? a) Somebody’s missing their Les Paul a whole heck of a lot, and b) You may have a tough time getting this hot item off your hands, especially considering what the axe’s owner mentions next in the Craigslist post:

I’ve been in the music business all my life, and have a large list of friends and contacts. With the help of countless amazing people, many who I don’t even know, http://web.me.com/outgolfing/Equipment (which details what you took) has been sent across Canada and around the world to more people – musicians, music stores, pawn shops, studios, rehearsal rooms, and other musically related businesses – than I ever imagined possible.

It’s been passed around since you broke in, and is continually going out to more people. In fact, I’d bet people reading this will pass the link on to others if they already haven’t. This will continue unendingly until I find my guitars and other equipment. My green Les Paul is already one of the most recognizable instruments in Canada, I can guarantee you that.

If the robber isn’t already feeling bad enough, the guitar owner helpfully outlines the thief’s current “scenario:”

No collector will want this instrument because it’s not even close to original. No legitimate business will buy it from you. Any creep who would knowingly buy a stolen guitar will give you a pittance for it. If you keep it for yourself, you’ll never be able to play anywhere with it, and it will tie you to the crime and to all of the other stolen equipment for as long as you have it. You didn’t even take the case.

Have some decency and redeem some karma. Bring my guitar back. You’ve fucked my studio up and stolen a life-time collection of my shit. You stole my guitar rig, which was MY sound that I’ve spent years achieving. You haven’t ripped off a money making business. You’ve ripped off my life and my spirit immeasurably by taking away the tools of the pursuit of my passion.

As a fellow guitar player, I hurt for this guy. And I really wish I could believe that the person who stole his beloved Les Paul was actually interested in actually selling it as a guitar, not as a scrap item that will earn him a few bucks to get his next hit of meth.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

With how inconsistently Canucks’ netminder Roberto Luongo has performed outside of his home rink - getting yanked in Game 6 after being shelled with three goals before the first half of the opening period was through – it’s really anybody’s guess as to whether the Canucks will prevail tonight, even if they are now back in their Vancouver safety zone.

Regardless of whether Vancouver wins, becoming the first Canadian team to hoist the Cup since 1993, I’m not convinced they deserve it. Luongo’s crappiness aside, Vancouver’s play has not exactly been the stuff of champions in this series (ditto for their work in the opening series against the Chicago Blackhawks).

But hey, who am I to talk? My hometown Toronto Maple Leafs have been Cup-less since 1967, and Vancouver fans would the first to note this. Still, I’m fully willing to admit that I’m jealous as hell of them right now; damn, wish I was anxiously awaiting the fate of my squad in Game 7 of the Cup final.

Reportedly a pair of tickets for this all-important game sold for $7,800 a piece. It got me thinking how much I would shell out to see the Leafs battle for Lord Stanley’s mug (if that day ever comes…)

Not sure I could bear spending nearly eight grand, though, even it was for a once-in-a-lifetime experience – especially if my financial well-being hinged on the play of a goalie as erratic as Leaky Luongo.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

The Huff-Po has certainly garnered lots of negative press in the past year, largely over its not paying contributors. All that aside, though, I think it will provide a much-needed shake-up to the media landscape here, particularly in the digital media realm.

There aren’t many sites in Canada with nationwide scope that aren’t affiliated with the country’s big media/newspaper companies. This means there often isn’t a lot of innovation going on; or at least, the known quantities seem to be chasing the same, not-so-intriguing stories.

The Huffington Post might not be the most ethical operation around – and if it wasn’t before, it too is big media now, having recently been acquired by AOL. But the self-proclaimed “Internet newspaper” does tend to cover things our established players would probably turn away from (granted a lot of it is gossipy tripe, but hey, it’s also mildly entertaining and can be quite relevant).

I wonder whether the Huff-Po will be able to break lots of Canadian stories; if so, the mind races to wonder what those might end up being.

Either way this will be an experiment worth watching/reading; provided, of course, the Canadian media establishment doesn’t cry foul, as is it’s wont to do, and demand that the CRTC intervene and protect our market from foreign invaders. Competition doesn’t always work well up here in the Great White North.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com

I JUST DON’T GET the appeal of Ultimate Fighting Championship.

But I’m in the minority, apparently – last night 55,000 people packed Rogers Centre (née SkyDome) to witness the Toronto debut of the bloody spectacle.

While I fail to understand what’s so great about MMA – bring back 1980s WWF wrestling, I say! – fans of the sport likely wouldn’t understand why I was up at 6 a.m. Friday morning to watch the royal wedding.

To each his own, I suppose. And I’m certainly not planning on raising the issue with UFC enthusiasts; I’d rather not get my head kicked in by a gang of skinheads hopped up on energy drinks.

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com