Roxanne Tellier – Revenge of the Creature Redux

America was never ‘perfect,’ despite the first settler’s early claims that ‘manifest destiny’ made anything Americans wanted to do, in the name of ‘a more perfect union,’ perfectly fine and utterly legit.

But while they might have contended that the special virtues of the American people and their institutions made colonialism, slavery, and the unchecked and wholesale, uncontested, swallowing up of the country ‘god’s will’ for the benefit of the powerful, these presumably lofty ideals, and ‘an irresistible destiny to accomplish this essential duty’ never held much water to the people whose lands were seized in the name of ‘the divine.’

Roxanne Tellier – Exit the Idiot Whisperer

Ever have, oh, I don’t know… about 6 or 700 of ‘those days,’ where you start to wonder if it’s actually possible that you just might have woken up on another, identical, but much stupider, planet?

Peter’s Potpourri….

One of my childhood memories is that of my mum and dad taking us to GuardianAngels church on Sunday morning. In the summer, when it was hot, the celebrant would sometimes come to the pulpit and announce, “There will no sermon today on account of the heat.”

Peter Posts Prodigious (Moving) Pictures….

Last week’s column was the first of several on my olde office, for after all, when one works for nearly 20 years in the same place, it’s more like a marriage than a fling!

Roxanne Tellier: The Bare Necessities

I woke up in a great mood this morning. With reason – the last few days have been filled with music and food and friends and more good food. I’m a simple person.  My needs are few. Oh, I may grumble and stew and frown at times, but overall … I’m pretty much a human happy face emoji.

JAIMIE VERNON – THE SLOW BURN OF PANTOMANIA

We’ve been swaying in the sluice of commercial music’s fetid breeze for so long that we’ve lost the ability to appreciate the slow burn, the rolling, creeping emotional wash of songs and artists that paint outside the lines of commercial success. The post-MTV era has led us down a path of saccharine, instantly gratifying need where our senses are over-stimulated – like a million neon roadside billboards or a caffeine rush to the soul in an effort to forget we live banal or uninteresting, tedious lives.

Roxanne Tellier – Who’s Sorry Now?

Is it just me, or does it seem like every week – every day, even – of 2015 to date has been rife with some new horror, political revelation, or  scandal involving everyone from the guy on the street to a British royal?

Nadia Elkharadly: The Downfall of Coachella

If you are at all active on any social media platform, you, like me, were probably assaulted incessantly by photos and 140 character capped musings about Coachella. Now that the first weekend of one of the world’s biggest music festivals has passed, the reviews, criticisms and lists (thanks buzzfeed) have added to the deluge of information on an event that I, and many like me, have actively chosen NOT to take part in.  But such as our world has become, even conscious non-participation doesn’t seem to be a viable option anymore. Whether you like it or not, it’s something that demands attention, like Justin Bieber’s douchebaggery or Miley Cyrus’s abnormally large (and likely infected) tongue.

JAIMIE VERNON – Old Man Take A Look At Your Life

I’m about to go off on a diatribe involving Neil Young (quelle surprise). If you’re a fan of Shaky you best leave this blog, get out your gatefold vinyl copy of ‘Harvest’ – yeah, the one you used to separate your weed seeds on and is stained with hash oil – click on a black light and tune out. This note’s definitely not for you.

Last week Neil Young – a Canadian that hasn’t lived in Canada since 1967 – decided to come home to play a few shows in an effort to raise money and awareness about (among other things) global warming, carbon footprints, fossil fuel, Corporate Oil gluttony, and the rape & pillage of land that Canada’s national people were handed in antiquated treaties back when White Man’s Guilt was an honourable profession for enterprising transplanted Euro-Dandy’s.

Segarini: On the Buses

I will not get on a plane.

I haven’t been on one since 1978, when I had to fly out to the Left Coast because my father was gravely ill.

I had flown a lot over the years and at one point, really used to enjoy it. There were dozens of flights to and from San Francisco and Los Angeles, a 45 minute puddle-jump from airport to airport that cost $15US on PSA but then would take another hour to reach my destination which was always as far away from the nearest airport as it could be.