Author: wdfyfe

Before WD called himself a writer, he worked at a number of different jobs from stacking lumber to interior design. He studied English at UBC and creative writing at ASU where one of his teachers, Rita Dove, taught him the importance of the tale. He has written for radio, magazines and newspapers, but never television. He’s published both fiction and nonfiction in Great Britain and the US. He reads French passably and speaks enough Spanish to get from A to B and find the toilet. He has interviewed John Cleese, Peter Ustinov, Margaret Drabble, Kenneth Branagh and enough other famous people to make him a hopeless name dropper. His not-so-secret passions are history and trivia, and he has never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit — although he did come 4th one drunken Quiz Night at the Uxbridge in Notting Hill. He lives on the Pacific Ocean, although, not close enough to see, so he spends his days looking at a computer screen. It’s a wonderful life and he has only one regret: he can’t type faster.

The Girl With The Anal Tattoo

Eighteen centuries ago, the Roman Empire was in heavy decline.  Nobody knew it, though.  It was still the largest, strongest and richest political entity on the planet.  Its reach extended from Hadrian’s Wall in Scotland into modern day India and perhaps even further into China.  Not bad when your fastest vehicle is a chariot.  It was the only superpower.  Inconceivably mighty, it dwarfed the disorganized and primitive tribes that skulked on its borders.  Yet, within a generation, it was physically disintegrating, and less than 100 years later, to all intents and purposes, it was gone.  To the average Roman of the day, though, this scenario was as unimaginable as flying a robot to Mars for a look around.  He would have laughed himself stupid at the very suggestion and gone back to the orgy.  However, because history’s telescope has 20/20 vision we can clearly see that the seeds of Rome’s demise had already been planted.

There are as many theories about the fall of the Roman Empire as there are scholars to write them, but most agree that somewhere in the 4rd century, the collective attitude of Rome changed.  It’s all tangled up in a series of complex political, economic, social and spiritual factors, but here’s the Twitter version.  Romans quit looking over their borders for new opportunities and sat down to partake in the spoils of four centuries of war.  From that very moment, the Roman Empire began its steady trudge from lean and mean to fat, dumb and happy — until there was nothing left but flab.  It went from social organization and engineering to orgies and entertainment, and that eventually resulted in 500 years of chaos when European civilization itself hung in the balance.

I said all this to say, the other day, I saw a headline on a most respected website whose name starts with an “H” and ends with an “ington Post.”  It read: “Anal Tattoo Girl Gives Important Interview (NSFW).”  I didn’t read the interview.  I’ve got nothing against tattoos, anal or otherwise.  However, I kinda have the feeling that an interview with a girl whose only claim on my time is an anal tattoo can’t be all that important.  For my money, former Treasury Secretary Lawrence Summers discrediting Obamanomics was much more important.  But, actually, I was holding out for Congressman Todd Akin to explain what a “legitimate” rape was.  (I think there are a lot of people around who would consider that one a biggie.)  My point was (and still is) that although anal tattoos may be fascinating from a strictly logistic point of view, they are not important.  Actually, they’re distinctly trivial, and I was (and still am) surprised that a website of H…….ington Post’s calibre would give it the time of day.  However, since I first saw the headline, I’ve discovered (without much trouble) that anal tattoos are a serious trend among young women.  In fact, the girl with the anal tattoo has quite a following.  If you like, you can see her getting inked, as it were, on YouTube.  (I refuse to give the link, just as I’ve refused to give her a name.  She has all the notoriety she needs without my assistance. )  SPOILER ALERT – Curious as it seems, in order to get an anal tattoo, you need to take off both your blouse and bra.

I’m not a novice here.  I understand that the girl with the anal tattoo is a publicity hound.  She’s looking for her Andy Warhol fifteen minutes — in the hope that it will turn into something more Kardashian in scope.  No worries girl!  If that’s your only marketable skill (notice I didn’t say asset) by all means use it.  My real problem is that, in our society, this sort of thing carries a whack of clout.  If the girl with the anal tattoo had put the same amount of time, energy, money and what must be considerable discomfort, into feeding the hungry, for example, none of this would have happened.  She probably would have been born, lived and died with neither you, nor I, nor YouTube ever realizing her existence.  Her limited fame is based entirely on what seems to be the obscene amount of titillation our society now requires.

We are not Romans in our acquaintance with decadence — yet.  For the most part, our world still looks beyond itself for its reason to exist.  However, I don’t think it’s melodramatic to wonder, if, somewhere in the dark and distant future, some historian will point to the second week in August, 2012 and the girl with the anal tattoo as the beginning of the end of Western Civilization.

Reckless Media: They’re At It … Again

It’s too early to talk about the American election (neither party has even had a convention yet) and too late to talk about Pussy Riot (they’ve already gone to jail) but oddly enough both are currently in the news.  Not only that, but each of them is causing a media storm the likes of which we haven’t seen since the glory days of Dick Cheney.  Everybody from the newly affiliated BBC and The New York Times* to the Tallahassee Truck Trader is bending themselves in knots voicing an opinion.  At the risk of crying “Collusion!” they’re all remarkably similar.  Coincidence?  I think not!

Ever since Mitt Romney named Paul Ryan as his running mate, the media has been ever-so-gently warning the public that the Republicans are now committed to throwing grandma, grandpa and 99% of the homeless in America under the corporate bus.  It’s amazing how many times you can call somebody a “mad dog” conservative — without using the “mad dog” part — and still get your point across.  There’s gotta be a Pulitzer in there somewhere.  Plus, quite a few opinionators have taken to giving Obama gratuitous election advice (whisper/whisper – it’s about Florida, stupid!) and they’ve even provided the president with a pro bono campaign slogan: Mediscare.  Actually, the prevailing media wisdom (outside the flyover states) is a Romney administration will be both stuck with Ryan’s insane financial plan (which can’t work) and at odds with it (which is unworkable.)  We call that working both sides of the street.

This is the same media that has given Joe Biden a all-inclusive “Get Out of Jail Free” press pass for the last five years.  No matter how many times Joe opens his mouth to stuff in the other foot, nobody in the media seems to mind.  As resident Canadian curmudgeon Rex Murphy observed recently, Delaware Joe may be the Jar Jar Binks of the Democratic Party.  And remember Joe was the guy who had his own presidential campaign cut short in 1988 when it was discovered he was a serial plagiarist – and not even a good one.  As I’ve said before, this may be the only time in history when an incumbent president is running against the other party’s vice-presidential choice!

Meanwhile, over in Russia, even before Vladimir Putin decided to march Pussy Riot off to prison, the western media was practically peeing its pants with excitement.  It was as if they’d won the Christmas Morning/Birthday/Valentine’s Day lottery.  Oh My God!  Feminist rock band!  Political protest!  Orthodox Church (Orthodox?  They’re Christians, right?) and neo-Czar Putin!  The thing was practically writing itself.  Then when Madonna and a few other celebs threw themselves into the fray, editors all over the world started passing out with the adrenalin hit.  Even the name “Pussy Riot” shouted Saturday Night Live and a Cooper Anderson (Anderson Cooper?) special.

I’m just going to stop the truck for a moment.  To clarify — I totally agree with Pussy Riot’s inalienable right to call Putin a putz if they want to.  Czar Vladimir the first is what happens when macho meets paranoid with a side order of tetchy.  Nobody’s calling Russia a liberal democracy, but two years in jail for name calling is treading on Kim Jong what’s-his-name-this-week territory.  Anybody who isn’t outraged by this kinda Classico-Soviet crap isn’t paying attention.

Okay, back to our story.  The thing that bothers me about this media funfest is nobody this side of Vistula River seems to be the least bit concerned that Pussy Riot was practicing their brand of girl power in an Orthodox Cathedral.  Again, just to clarify.  An Orthodox cathedral is a place of worship, a place of comfort and solace, a place where people seek to transcend the human experience and reach, however briefly, for spiritual guidance and well-being.  It is a place for contemplation and meditation.  For millions of people, it is a sacred place that is a tangible symbol of their personal journey to find meaning in this life.  If we have any respect for our fellow human beings on this planet, we most certainly must respect the need for spiritual well-being just as we respect the need for physical well-being. Even the nastiest of the secularists among us will admit that.  Yet, here we are on the business end of a media feeding frenzy and there’s not one hint that Pussy Riot’s uncontrollable urge to bring their message to the Russian people may have offended millions of them.  Or that it was wrong to choose a place of worship as the venue for their YouTube extravaganza.

These are just two vehicles on the information superhighway.  The American election is going to go on and on until everybody’s just about sick of it, and Pussy Riot will probably be forgotten in a week or two.  They’re two totally unrelated stories, yet they clearly demonstrate the same lockstep reporting that dominates contemporary media coverage. One of the essential components of a democratic society is a free and functioning media.  However, when that media is bleating in unison, it might as well be state-controlled — for all the good it does.

*Mark Thompson, the ex-honcho at the Beeb has been hired to run the show at The New York Times.  I guess, they’re all one big happy family.

Julian Assange: A Study in Irony

I see Julian Assange is back in the news.  This guy’s like last week’s pastrami: he just keeps hanging around.  In case you don’t remember, Assange is that smarmy guy who was behind all the Wikileaks stuff that was heavy headlines a couple of years ago.  As the read-all-about-it Robin Hood of the chattering class, Assange gained a certain notoriety for opening other people’s mail and then bragging about it.  At the time, there was a lot of high-minded talk about an “honesty is the best policy” crusade, but these days there aren’t that many people who still believe Assange’s motivations were purely altruistic.   Besides, for all the hoopla, Wikileaks was (and still is) mainly just a nuisance.  So far, no person or institution has collapsed (or even gone into a decline) as the result of a Wikileaks revelation.  In fact, the only tangible result (that I know of) is some serious chuckles over diplomatic drinks at a few embassy garden parties.

Essentially, Julian Assange is the international equivalent of that kid from high school who was always a jerk.  The one who’d come up behind you and knock your books out of your hand or waited until you weren’t looking and tripped you on the stairs.  He never did anything you could prove or anything even all that serious.  He was just utterly annoying.  Unfortunately, the only way to deal with those kind of kids is beat the crap outta them — otherwise they’ll never leave you alone.  This was true in Miss Mackenzie’s grade nine class, and it’s doubly true now in the wider world.  (As we all know, grade nine and 21st century diplomatic relations are not for the faint of heart.)

Anyway, towards that end, because just being a pain in the ass is not a criminal offence, the powers that be got together and figured out a way to put Mr. Assange on ice for a while.  He’s facing criminal charges of the rape-without-pillage variety in Sweden.  I’m not completely convinced that everything is kosher in Stockholm, but you can make up your own mind.  Either way, the British government wants to extradite Assange back to the land of Ikea to face a little Norse justice.  Assange doesn’t want to go because he thinks the Americans are waiting for him at Arlanda airport — with a one-way ticket to Attica.  I wonder where he got that idea?

But here’s where the opera goes comic.  Having exhausted every legal means in Britain to avoid extradition, Julian turned for salvation to that bastion of liberty and human rights: Ecuador.  I’m not making this up.  A couple of months ago, Julian made a dash for the Ecuadorean embassy and claimed political asylum.  What’s even funnier – now they’ve granted it to him!  Suddenly, Britain is in a standoff with a South American country (and it isn’t Argentina.)  The grey suits in Whitehall are heading for the gin even as we speak.  Obviously, they can’t just let Assange go — especially not to a place like Ecuador — but aside from revoking Ecuador’s diplomatic status and storming the building, there’s not much they can do about it.

Meanwhile, Ecuador, for its part, is tweaking the lion’s tail — with some pretty good results.  They’ve dusted off the tried and true “you’re not the boss of me, you neo-colonial bastards” rhetoric and are wailing away as if they were Hugo Chavez’s little brothers.  According to one member of the National Assembly, Rosana Alvarado, “This is a decision of a sovereign government, which doesn’t have to ask for British permission to act.”  Another member, Paco Velasco, stuck a little closer to the traditional script with, “I hope the Ecuadorean people will remain united and reject any form of colonialism.”  Is somebody having an election soon?  It’s always a good idea to have a clear colonial enemy when the folks back home are going to the polls.  Surprise, surprise!  President Rafael Correa’s job’s on the line next February.  What a coincidence!  Just as an aside: this neo-colonial crap is really getting old.  After all, Ecuador has been an independent nation since 1822 — that’s 45 years longer than Canada and nearly a century longer than Australia.  (Just sayin’.)  However, standing up to both Britain and the United States about human rights is going to look really good on the election posters — even if it is only over a little poo disturber like Assange.

So to recap: Julian Assange is asking Ecuador to protect his human rights.  This is a country that’s had more than a few problems with military coups, juntas and presidential musical chairs (not to mention a number of governments who suspended the constitution just because they didn’t like it.)  And who is he asking for protection from?  Great Britain, Sweden and (probably, eventually) the United States, three of the most stable democracies in human history.  Am I the only one ODing on irony here?