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That’s Edmonton For You

Check out the City of Edmonton, going all Medici on our asses. They make Cadence Weapon the city’s Poet Laureate, they commission a bunch of songs ostensibly pertaining to sustainability from Person of Note Trevor Anderson, who subsequently put his rolodex to work in the ultimate realization of the project. It’s called That’s Edmonton For You, which does not fail to elicit first a double-take, then a smirk from everyone who hears or reads the name for the first time. Interesting.

Should I list all of the contributors individually? Screw that, when you can just go see for yourself, but take my word, they’re all blue chippers. You’ll be amazed. Also, it takes me a minimum of six months to decide how I feel about any given piece of music about which I am asked, from the date I am asked, so why bother waiting for the likes of me when you can also listen for yourself.

Good ol’ Co-host Tom’s rolodex has also been put to work, and we’ve invited Trevor to come visit us on the radio show tomorrow afternoon, to explain what the deal is with this That’s Edmonton For You thing, plug the free live concert in Louise McKinney Park, this Sunday, June 14, and endure all of the fun we can make of a name like That’s Edmonton For You, which could be a lot. Will he or won’t he? The only way to find out is to tune in tomorrow from 3 to 5.

Fill in the blank: As ________ as a Morrissey tattoo.

 

some guys have all the luck

some guys have all the luck

To be completely honest, I misunderstood the situation at first. I saw the other photo, the one of Morrissey kind of obscuring the guy as he autographed his arm. For a time, I thought the guy had actually gotten Morrissey to give him a tattoo. Yes, it’s entirely clear to me now, that that would mean the guy would have had to not only engineer an opportunity to be near the same coat rack as Morrissey, but also have with him a tattoo tool and ink and the wherewithal to ask Morrissey to take the time out of his day to tattoo some freak in a hallway. Yes, it took an especially long time for the sheer preposterous unlikelihood of that scenario to click with me.

Youre going to do what?

"You're going to do what?"

But yes, I prefer my original, misunderstood version of the story. Actually, the version I prefer the most is the one where the supplicant approaches Morrissey with freshly shaven head, requesting that Moz tattoo the lyrics to Bigmouth Strikes Again into his skull. And that he gets in free to all subsequent Morrissey gigs.

For those keeping score, the correct answer to the fill in the blank question is ‘celibacy affirming.’ But whatever you thought of was probably pretty good, too.

Q: What’s it for?

A: What’s with all the questions?

Reading is nice.

Wells Tower. If this man was not actually born to be a writer, then his fate was most certainly sealed upon receiving his name. One cannot help but be intrigued by the title of his first collection of short stories, Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned, but hey, why let it stop at intrigue when you can just up and read the title story about “reluctant Vikings,” and find out for yourself? Okay, okay lazybones, if you can’t or won’t read for yourself, is it possible for you to at least listen to the man himself read it aloud? Or watch the (very) short animated version? But for God’s sake, do something.

Break it dooown.

Insofar as my daughter is “hardly ever” allowed to watch tv during the days I take care of her, we have had occasion to run across Yo Gabba Gabba. Is it a show for kids, or is it a show for parents who might at one time have considered themselves ‘cool’ or ‘hip’ and may even still be those things, but for the fact they are parents of children?

Wanna see Biz Markie do a COOL TRICK? Of course you do. Of course you’d prefer it if your kids preferred the Shins to the Wiggles, but how on Earth do you even start a project like that? Like this, I suppose.

Break it to me in French, please, wouldja doc?

An e-mail subject line that is currently quite popular around my workplace, and probably other workplaces as well:

FW:  Human Swine Influenza virus /Virus de la grippe porcine chez les humains

I am struck, not for the first time, by the classiness of the French language, especially in a side-by-side comparison with English. The English is so, “You’re sick, and it comes from pigs,” while en Francais, it’s more like, “In spite of all that’s come to pass, your nurse will be pretty and kind.”

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