paris hilton's new bff.

The best part of flying these days is the free teevee. I love teevee and I have no patience for the holier than thou attitude of those who claim to live without it. You may not own one, but you are influenced by it.

To me, it is another medium, a medium that demands funds and more people involved in creating it, and thus is more prone to shit art than say, a painting. So a viewer has to be more careful.

And so, here I am, writing from 40 000 feet while I watch something stunning on my personal television: Paris Hilton’s new BFF.

Wow.

This is unquestionably a waste of technology and media, however it is rather fun to watch absolute stupidity. I have only see it once before and the concept is a little alarming. A woman, whose only contribution to society is being very wealthy, decides to seek out a new friend. Paris has nothing to offer us other than someone to mock. Her joke on us is that she just doesn’t care.

The new friend has to be chosen from a bunch of college age girls and one gay boy. The gay boy wasn’t able to complete the challenge of dancing for shirtless frat boys on a stripper pole. Instead, he cried in the least masculine way possible, and by that I mean chewing on his scarf. (Yeah, I know, a scarf in the heat of a Las Vegas summer. And he's not even Québecois). None of the girls had an issue with stripping to their bikinis and seemed most concerned with letting the camera know that they are not actual strippers, but are bikini dancers. At that point, does it matter? Ladies, you are whoring your bodies at the word of a spoiled brat that you worship while cameras role. You have no dignity. Strippers actually have oodles more integrity than that.

All these small minded people are seriously competing for a vacuous friendship. At least, that is what it seems. I want to believe that some of these girls, maybe even the obviously stereotypical gay boy, are actually mocking the whole affair. Paris wants to find a for real friend as she has been burnt before, supposedly, so has decided that reality teevee is the venue to find someone ‘real’.

Oh, something happened. The gay boy didn’t get eliminated because he agreed to get his precious hair wet and swim out to Paris. If he is acting, he is marvelous. If he is for real, I am so sorry to the gay community for having to put up with yet another cliché prominently displayed in the media for every homophobe to mock and laugh at.

Watching this, I feel very guilty for giving this show any audience at all. I’m not sure why anyone would compete for anyone’s friendship. And it's on the much music station, whose audience is supposed to be 12 to 25. Good life lesson.

I also feel quite happy that if this shit has made it past many producers and various levels of editing and so forth, anything I make can be of at least slightly more important than Paris Hilton’s quest for the perfect friend.

put that in your milk.

Another of Dr Steve Brule's rules.

my old neighbourhood

The following youtube video is from CBC's Wiretap with Jonathan Goldstein. He lives in the same neighbourhood that I used to call home. In fact, the phone booth is only a hundred and so feet from my old front door.

I miss it... my front door that is.

levi.

Despite what many seem to believe, making movies is not easy, even short ones.

I made this in Montréal under the guidance of a producer and the very professional help of Toby the sound guru. As with anything worth doing, it had a certain about of pain and ego bruising. If I did my job right, as editor and camera guy, I shouldn't have to explain this little short documentary.

I embedded this video from whoweare.ca which is a fine little site.

jamaican food for your mouth hole.

I'm half moved to Vancouver now.

While walking around Commercial drive and seeking food stuffs, I stepped into a Jamaican restaurant along with French Panic and my sister in law. It seemed familiar and as I was eating delicious jerk chicken I realized why. I had seen it before along with an excellent story.

And here it is, embedded from whoweare.ca which is where two of my little projects are also posted.

sour milk.

I wish I could say that I made this, but I didn't.

Still it would be a shame to not pass it along.

And that is indeed Oscar nominated actor John C Reilly.

Truly a genius.

things I like about montréal - number 4

Groll street.

In the midst of Mile End is a cute little street only available to the non-car people… like French Panic and myself.

It is a short street with people’s houses abutting it on both sides in that very Montréal sort of way. Graffiti, most of it very creative, decorates these walls, which I’m sure sort of pisses off the home owners. I like to think I wouldn’t mind if it was my house, cause it wouldn’t matter. Like having a grudge match with the ocean, anger towards street artists has exactly zero effect.

I have no idea why it is named Groll, or what Groll even means. I’m not going to bother trying to find out either.

Every time we walk near Groll to go anywhere, I insist on walking down it… and then down the alleys that connect to it. It makes me smile, and that is some special street.

I’m going to miss you, Groll street.