This is post is unrelated: my sister is hilarious

This post is completely unrelated to theatre or the arts, really. But it's an email from my sister, The Writer, and is actually too funny not to share. Also, it sort of deals with the joy of a "day job." She has a bright future ahead of her.

Also, she swears a lot...so if you're offended by that kind of thing, you should probably stop reading now.

Still reading?
Ok, don't say I didn't warn you...

Dearest Rick,

I have a method to writing e-mails. When I respond to my multitude of correspondence (I am a popular person and apparently a fucking MAGNET for chain mail), I usually look at everything that was written in the e-mail sent to me and address each point in the same order in which it was presented. And I have to say -- just an observation --that e-mail you wrote was possibly the longest document of all time. On the plus side, I read the whole thingand it was not painful on my eyes. Kudos.

In any case, let us proceed:

Point 1: Snow. In T.O.
Response: Fuck snow.

Point 2: Long-distance relationships.
Response: Fuck long-distance relationships.

Point 3: [Anonymous]'s long-distance relationship.
Response: That sucks. What happened? I like her.

Point 4: Prickly Pear people [This is a long story.]
Response: Who the fuck are the Prickly Pear people? And why are they bitches? And how you gonna own your shit and tell them hoes to step off right quick for you break your left Sorrel off in they ass? These are all pertinent questions.

Point 5: Dog walking with BFG.
Response: You live in a zoo-land. With pee and creatures. And Internet. What a strange twilight zone of a world.
Also, Golden Doodle sounds like someone's massive and highly-valued shit.
Also, animals are like incontinent human beings. I do not tolerate vomit on my couch. Regain your continence, I say.
Also, job hunting has become a hobby of mine, now greatly impeded by the fact that I am employed. Also, no complaints.
Also, I support your yoga pants/not having real jobs correlation. I myself have worn yoga pants everyday this week.

Point 6: You requested an account of Francis' eight-year-old birthday party a la [very big fancy] Hotel.
Response: Fucking ridiculous.

[Roomie] and I show up at 3 p.m. and wander into the hotel side of the [very big fancy] Hotel when we should have gone into the residence tower. God forbid. We proceed to the 12th floor to meet Marge, Executive Assistant to the family, and Nancy the Doormat, Francis' mother. Nancy is nice, smiles often, and is kind of old to have a young child. No offense, Nance. Francis' father, Frank, looks like a pot-bellied, balding pedophile. He followed his son around all afternoon with a creepy half-smile.

In any case, [Roomie], me, and Carlos the bellhop load balloons, face paint, and loot bags onto a hotel cart and head over to the Atlantic room on the hotel side to set up. When we arrive there are linen table cloths and small Fiji waters on the buffet table. Someone is presenting the Juicy Juice boxes in a fucking Longaberger basket and there are waiters in full uniform (complete with bowtie) preparing to wait on eight-year-olds, possibly the most degrading gig of their lives.

As we wait for Nancy to bring over Francis and her husband, Marge provides us with the Xeroxed, highlighted, colour-coded, seizure-inducing schedule of Francis' eighth birthday, including a fifteen minute increment for arrival and shuttling of children to the appropriate room, checking tiny midget coats and sticking nametags on snot-nosed kids so that when I feel inclined to yell, "Stop the fucking shenanigans, you heathen bastard," I can instead take a deep breath, calm my nerves and respond in a simpering voice, "Stop the fucking shenanigans, Sebastien, you heathen bastard." We assemble with four other babysitters, all of whom are post-college twenty-somethings and find this entire experience just as ridiculous as [Roomie] and I do.

There is one guy, Tim, who is a godsend in the presence of twenty or so young boys who apparently fear eye contact with females other than their mothers. The children dance briefly on the checkerboard dance floor to Rihanna and Chris Brown before realizing that dancing is stupid and tackling is awesome. In the presence of Nancy and Marge, I'm not sure how forceful to be in my disciplinary actions. I should also mention that, prior to the arrival of the other children, Francis ran into the Atlantic room, did not respond to our hellos, informed us that he had a fever, and then walked over to the corner. When Marge brought up a game called "Leopards on the Loose," Francis insisted that it be called "Leprechauns on the Loose," and the nine adults in the room spent the next twenty minutes frantically coaxing out of the child what we would call the people the Leprechauns would be capturing in the game.

From the moment they entered, the girls were clearly the most well-behaved. While the boys attempted to asphyxiate one another with hula hoops, the girls used them for hula hooping. The face paint that Francis so vehemently opposed ended up being the highlight of the party, and I got to make children look ridiculous without being punished for it. Two kids had green faces, and I drew a dragon on someone's cheek that looked like a circle. When the girls came over for face paint, they requested a guitar on their left cheek with sparkles and glitter and stars and hearts and flames and ponies and magic in the center. I painted a guitar in the two inches of free face they had and then dabbed some colours inside. Fucking Picasso.

By the end of the day, I had all but ripped off Sebastien's arm, who seemed unfamiliar with the abstract concept of stay-on-the-mother-effing-dance-floor. Tim walked around with a megaphone, trying to convince the heathens that they were "helpers," and without him we probably all would have died. Or maybe a child would have. Whatever.

We gathered up coats, distributed loot bags, and ate some cake. Francis puked later on, and by six-thirty I had made a hundred bones for smearing washable face paint on children and memorizing the problem kid's name. As [Roomie] and I left, I realized that Nancy the Doormat had given each of the six crowd-control sitters a hundred dollars, and I tried to imagine how much the gourmet pizza and the high-end juice boxes might have cost but I thought I might cry if I knew those numbers. So I went home and drank heavily. It was a good night.

The end.

Point 7: Original thoughts I might like to add.
I am going to NY this weekend. Irresponsible. Huzzah.

KBYE.

xoxo,
dfg

Why I love The Tragically Hip...

I was going to title this post "Why I want to have Gordon Downie's babies" but I thought maybe that was taking my love of The Hip just a bit far. Just a bit, though.

Gordon Downie on tour, circa 2007
Image courtesy/copyright mikelastphoto.com
(The Photographer took this, so don't steal it. He also gave me a print of it for Valentine's Day one year...)

Today, April 7, The Tragically Hip are releasing their twelfth album (fourteenth if you count Live Between Us and Yer Favourites, but I don’t because they’re more like “greatest hits”) since first hitting the scene in Kingston, Ontario back in 1983. They released their first album in 1987 and have been in the recording studio fairly consistently ever since.

I started listening to them in the late 90s after raiding my dad’s CD collection in search of something cool. What I came out of the cupboard with was Fully Completely. Love at first listen. Not long after, The Hip released Phantom Power and went on tour. I managed to convince my parents to take me. So it became a family outing, all five of us, trekking across Michigan to catch the concert. We had lousy seats and the old man next to us called my mom “Baby” all night, but I was hooked.

We saw them one more time in Michigan (again as a family) before I went away to university. At which point I realized that no one in the U.S. has ever heard of them. This precious knowledge lead to my next two Hip concert experiences: small venues in New York City, general admission, and front row as long as we got there before the opening act started. Because guaranteed the entire population of Kingston would arrive just as Gordon, Paul, Rob, Gord, and Johnny were taking the stage. The atmosphere was awesome and I was close enough for the Downie’s sweat to hit me (seriously, he sweats more than any human I’ve ever seen). This is one thing I really miss about living south of the border. But then, they don’t quite get it the way we do up here.

So, in honour of today’s release of We Are the Same, I thought I would share some of the reasons I think The Hip may be the best band ever…

1. Polar Bears. The Hip share my love of the handsome white bears, enough to write a song about one. A specific one. Named Gus. He lives in Central Park. They also let one star in the music video for Yer Not the Ocean. And by “star” I mean chase Gordon Downie through the woods.

2. Hockey. A national obsession, The Hip have a healthy respect for the sport and its place in the Canadian psyche. They’ve made songs out of the back of a hockey card, hanging out in the crease (featured on Hockey Night in Canada), and a very famous summit series…but here's that song.

3. They’re intelligent. The Hip reference everyone from Northrop Frye to Jacques Cartier to John Lennon to Shakespeare. They tell stories in their songs, whether by adapting a Hugh MacLennan novel, re-imagining a real historical mystery, or just by their own invention. And this, with a moment for Falstaff, is one of my favourites.

4. Their songs read like a map. They really cover the Canadian landscape, from Newfoundland to Ontario to Manitoba, and all across the Great Plains. To me, they’re local…whether they’re singing about Sault Ste. Marie where my grandparents live, or commiserating on the state of the 401 or Lake Ontario where I live, or depicting in song the majesty of Algonquin Park where I love.

5. They have a connection to modern Canadian pop culture. I love that The Hip love The Trailer Park Boys. And vice versa (disclaimer: don't follow that link if you're offended by profanity). And I love that when the TPB made a movie, The Hip got a cameo, all the movie titles outside the theatre were Hip songs, and the soundtrack was pretty much a “greatest hits” for TTH. But nothing makes me happier than the music video for The Darkest One. Ricky, Julian, Bubbles, Don Cherry, and The Hip. Who could ask for more? But wait, there is some Rick Mercer love, too. Blow At High Dough was the theme song for Mercer’s TV show, Made In Canada.

6. Global social and political consciousness. They’re aware of the world around them in a way that is artistic, engaged, and interesting. If New Orleans is Sinking became If New Orleans is Beat after Katrina, asking "where does that leave you and me?" As Makeshift as We Are and Are We Family take on human rights, war, and responsibility to one another.

You do the combat math, I'm the war artist
You can't take your shots back, I have to watch them miss
The basketball rim shook like a tambourine
Not an unlikely event in a game that means nothing
In a game that means nothing
Makeshift we are
Lead never leaves your system no matter who you are

And they do it all with such poetry.

7. They know who they are and where they came from. The Hip have never really left Canada. Sure, they’ve toured everywhere. But this is their home. Historically, philosophically, in every way that matters. And they get us. They get our history.

8. They are artists. They are rockstars. And they’re the kind of guys you’d want to have a beer with. As artists, they’re constantly challenging themselves. Which is why they are still putting out new albums 26 years on, still working on various projects (Rob Baker used to do all their album art and some of their t-shirt designs), still pushing the bounds of what they can do. As rockstars, well, they just put on one hell of a show. I’ve seen them four times now and they’ve never failed to impress me. As beer drinking cool guys, Rob Baker gave me his guitar pick unsolicited once. And they just keep it real.

And more than all of this, they inspire me. So that’s enough for me to love them, really.

Augusto Boal: World Theatre Day 2009

The following is Augusto Boal's World Theatre Day Message:

All human societies are “spectacular*” in their daily life and produce “spectacles” at special moments. They are “spectacular” as a form of social organization and produce “spectacles” like the one you have come to see.

Even if one is unaware of it, human relationships are structured in a theatrical way. The use of space, body language, choice of words and voice modulation, the confrontation of ideas and passions, everything that we demonstrate on the stage, we live in our lives. We are theatre!

Weddings and funerals are “spectacles”, but so, also, are daily rituals so familiar that we are not conscious of this. Occasions of pomp and circumstance, but also the morning coffee, the exchanged good-mornings, timid love and storms of passion, a senate session or a diplomatic meeting - all is theatre.

One of the main functions of our art is to make people sensitive to the “spectacles” of daily life in which the actors are their own spectators, performances in which the stage and the stalls coincide. We are all artists. By doing theatre, we learn to see what is obvious but what we usually can’t see because we are only used to looking at it. What is familiar to us becomes unseen: doing theatre throws light on the stage of daily life.

Last September, we were surprised by a theatrical revelation: we, who thought that we were living in a safe world, despite wars, genocide, slaughter and torture which certainly exist, but far from us in remote and wild places. We, who were living in security with our money invested in some respectable bank or in some honest trader’s hands in the stock exchange were told that this money did not exist, that it was virtual, a fictitious invention by some economists who were not fictitious at all and neither reliable nor respectable. Everything was just bad theatre, a dark plot in which a few people won a lot and many people lost all. Some politicians from rich countries held secret meetings in which they found some magic solutions. And we, the victims of their decisions, have remained spectators in the last row of the balcony.

Twenty years ago, I staged Racine’s Phèdre in Rio de Janeiro. The stage setting was poor: cow skins on the ground, bamboos around. Before each presentation, I used to say to my actors: “The fiction we created day by day is over. When you cross those bamboos, none of you will have the right to lie. Theatre is the Hidden Truth”.

When we look beyond appearances, we see oppressors and oppressed people, in all societies, ethnic groups, genders, social classes and casts; we see an unfair and cruel world. We have to create another world because we know it is possible. But it is up to us to build this other world with our hands and by acting on the stage and in our own life.

Participate in the “spectacle” which is about to begin and once you are back home, with your friends act your own plays and look at what you were never able to see: that which is obvious. Theatre is not just an event; it is a way of life!

We are all actors: being a citizen is not living in society, it is changing it.

Threatening and manifesting

Kris Joseph over at Struts and Frets posted this today and it has me thinking about things I'd perhaps forgotten or overlooked of late. In his post, he talks about the real threat to theatre: the theatre community. The theatre has been dying for years, if you ask many of us, and yet it has endured and survived through all manner of hardship, including its outright ban in certain times and places. So perhaps we shoud acknowledge that no outside force is capable of silencing the theatre for good. If anyone or anything is killing it, it is the theatre's artists, with misplaced priorities and agendas, with the industrialization of training and of productions, with whining in place of action. As Kris Joseph put it, "We're kicking the horse and screaming about animal abuse at the same time."

Which leads to the question why do we do theatre? Why do we make the choices we make? How did we start out on this path and why are we still here? Sure, we were all bright-eyed and idealistic once upon a time, but the real world takes that out of you little by little; it can lead you astray. Which leads to the other talk online about theatre manifestos--Ian Mackenzie contributes productively to the discussion (as always) at Theatre is Territory 2.0, summing up the latest and issuing a call to write! Manifestos give us direction, help us to re-establish our goals, principles, and priorities. By writing them, or revisiting them, we can see how far we've strayed and how to get back on track. Certainly it is difficult, especially as you are beginning a career in a recession-obsessed world, to hold onto your ideals in everything you do on a day by day basis. But if you were looking for something easy, you probably shouldn't have picked theatre in the first place. So why are you here?

For Kris Joseph, his theatre and its survival are about service: "Passionate creators and artists connect their theatrical work to a reverence, respect for, and a desire to serve the audience." And for me, well, I am inclined to agree. It is through this service that theatre will continue to survive and endure. By placing our emphasis on serving, we bring the audience in and create a theatrical community much greater than ourselves, both individually and as a group of artists. It becomes about more than our egos or our bottom lines or even just the story. It becomes about a group of people and a conversation--theatre should always be a conversation. It also recognizes the audience as a more active participant in the creation of theatre. And much like it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a community to keep the theatre alive.

And so I leave you with these words of wisdom on serving the audience from one of my favourite (and most brilliant) RADA teachers, Gregory de Polnay:

"Hamlet was not talking to the fucking cupboards. You have to take the audience with you. You can take them by the hand and lead them to paradise or guide them up the garden path and slit their fucking throats, but take them with you..."

Praxis Theatre blogs, produces, and parties. All astonishingly well and with a sense of humour.

This past Friday I was privileged to attend the sold out opening night of Praxis Theatre's production of Stranger, a show developed in three workshops over two years. I've been waiting to tell you about it until I could link to my thoughts on the production (which were committed for posting on The Theatre Centre Blog). Fortunately, Stranger runs until February 8, so there is still plenty of time for you to see it--but I wouldn't put it off any longer. Anyway, I won't go too much into my thoughts on it here since I've already written them elsewhere. I will say, though, that I enjoyed writing about it almost as much as I enjoyed watching it.

I am also linking to J. Kelly Nestruck's review at The Globe and Mail. I disagree with his judgment of the show, but I respect his opinion and I do think he makes some valid points. I would also be curious to know, from the creators at Praxis who I imagine will see this at some point, why does Praxis keep "selecting novels by authors who were equally adept as playwright?" I imagine there is a good reason (and I like the selection), I'm just interested in the conversation. Why this play now?

But what I really wanted to write about on my blog with regards to Praxis and Stranger is the reception they held after the show. It turns out I know someone who knows someone, and I was strongly urged to come to the opening so I could make new theatre friends. Well, I'm glad I listened. Because I did make new theatre friends. And laughed, a lot. It turns out they know how to throw a pretty good party, in addition to writing that blog and you know, doing shows. So here are some highlights from my night out with Praxis:

You know the awkward feeling you get at first when you're at a party where you don't know anyone? It kind of started out like that. Because after my friend left, I really didn't know anyone. And everyone was celebrating. So I was kind of the outsider (appropriate to the theme of the show, I guess). But it didn't take too long to get over, especially when I met he of the blog, Michael Wheeler ("You must be BFG." Oh goodness...). Mr. Wheeler was very kind and made some introductions, which I very much appreciated.

The people at Praxis are smart. I miss smart people. Smart about theatre people. Don't get me wrong, my friends are smart. But it's a different kind of intelligence. And it seems like much of team Praxis has studied and/or performed all over the place. It's a very cosmopolitan (though in a non-pretentious way) bunch. I too have studied in various places. It was nice to hear about their experiences outside of Toronto and then coming back...

In one conversation, I commented on how I don't really know what the difference is between the industry (I hate calling it that, but it is) in New York and the industry here in Toronto. My source (who I will not name out of respect to her privacy) told me it could be summed up in a single sentence: In New York, everyone wants to see the new face and to put you out there, in Toronto, they don't. She told me she still has difficulty getting a general audition with a theatre company in the city after many years. And that so do many other very talented people. While I think this is, frankly, disgusting, it's also a relief in some respects. It is not just me. It is, apparently, the way the theatre world works in Toronto (note to self: change the way the theatre world works in Toronto). I don't think it's a good modus operandi for a thriving theatre community, but at least when you know where you stand, it's easier to know how to proceed.

And then I met another associate of Praxis who had me laughing so hard I had pains in my sides. She was lovely. And we discussed theatre programs for kids in Toronto; she is working on starting one. We talked about how most that exist are severely limited, to be exact. I've actually interviewed with one such program and was told I don't have enough experience (me, the summer camp counsellor with the B.F.A. in theatre). The limitations are imposed by programs looking to employ teachers with an interest in theatre and not theatre artists with an interest in teaching; there is a distinct difference. It was nice to have a conversation with a like-minded individual.

I went home smiling. Aside from seeing a good show, I met some great people. I was reassured that I am, in fact, doing the right things. And I was reminded that a career in this city in what I want to do is all about diversifying. So, I advise anyone who can to go see Stranger and to hang out with Praxis, either online or, better, in real life. They're all smart cookies and they have a lot to offer. I am grateful that they shared so generously with me. And I hope to see them again soon! You all have a standing offer from me to buy you coffee/beer/lunch for the privilege of picking your brain.

At Last.

Belize: All day today it's felt like Thanksgiving. Soon, this...ruination will be blanketed white. You can smell it--can you smell it?
Louis: Smell what?
Belize: Softness, compliance, forgiveness, grace.

Tony Kushner
Angels in America: Millennium Approaches

A rant to precipitate change...

I really, really dislike not having an internet connection chez moi. The plan to go web-less was originally conceived as a cost-savings measure and was feasible, given that I surf from 9-5:30 Monday to Friday. But since I've gotten more heavily involved in the online community this plan leaves me feeling very disconnected on the weekends, as if I'm missing some very important appendage. It must be remedied in the coming weeks, time to bite the bullet and succumb to my www(dot)addiction. Because now I have spent the first two hours of my Monday catching up on everything I missed over the weekend and well, that's just silly.

Or maybe I'm just grumpy because I got all the way through the hundreds of posts in my Google Reader before blogTO posted today's Morning Brew. What can I say, it's how I like to start my morning.

There is more to this post, though. This one is about politics. Again before noon, I know. I apologize. But I can't help it. It's in the air. Can you feel it? Like electricity, crackling, igniting...sending shock waves through the populace. It is the eve of an historic event and the world is watching.

As Capitol Hill prepares for the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States of America the national news networks seem unable to report on anything else. Other events of global importance are occurring, to be sure, but there is nothing to top this. It is literally all anyone can talk about. Well, almost. A few people up here in the Great White North seem not to have forgotten that our very own government will be back in the office in the coming week. Whether or not it will be as glamourous, as exciting, as momentous, or even as productive as the political process occuring to the South remains to be seen. I imagine not. Nevertheless, the return of Stephen Harper to his throne office should be of some significance to those of us residing in Canada as, following a deep freeze in government only barely matched by our frigid winter weather, change may be on our door steps, too.

To begin, no one (at least no one in the artistic community) has forgotten Mr. Harper's now infamous comments about "ordinary Canadians" and the arts. While outrage over his statements and budget failed to sway the outcome of the Federal Election in October, the artistic community's passion on the topic has not yet been exhausted. Not even close. Rather, in what has become to many a war for our survival as a culture, we have set about proving him wrong in every way we possibly can. The rise of the Department of Culture has certainly helped in the call to action and now arguments about the reality of living and working as an artist in Canada are just about everywhere.

The latest example is an article in the Toronto Star, part of a series examining the lives of Canadian artists, extolling the virtues of other government's relationships with their artists and proposing some changes to our own troubled association. I realize that in these darkening economic times supporting the arts seems rather indulgent and unessential, but the reality is that culture create jobs. No, they are not automotive or industrial jobs but their value is no less and the product they create is equally as exportable and profitable. How do we decide, really, who deserves a "bailout?" According to the Star, last year arts and culture generated $84.6 billion in economic activity, which is approximately 7.4% of our GDP, and "employed 1.1 million Canadians directly and indirectly." Isn't that worth supporting?

And heading into the battle over the budget is a new leader, arguably a cultural contributor himself. Michael Ignatieff heads to the Hill as the new leader of the Liberals when Parliament at long last resumes later this month. Ignatieff, who could perhaps be placed amongst the "gala-going elite" moreso than most of us humble artists, has one of the most impressive C.V.s in Ottawa. Amongst his many accomplishments are sixteen books, including three novels. One of the most recent, The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror, has been dispatched to Mr. Harper as required reading by one Yann Martel, who almost a year ago vowed to send Mr. Harper a new book every two weeks for as long as he is prime minister. While there has been little talk of the Coalition by Mr. Ignatieff in recent days, Mr. Ignatieff writes in his book that "liberal states cannot be protected by herbivores." In light of such, I would encourage him to go for the jugular...

Finally, the political buzz is that the soon to be President Obama will be heading North to see us in the near future. In his attempts to temper expectations amongs the American people, which have soared beyond proportion and reason since the election, Obama has Canadians wondering what his administration might mean for us. While this interdependence is unfortunate in many respects (they could inadvertently make things much worse here, as we could to a lesser extent there), it is what keeps the lines of communication open. It is, I think, what keeps us from killing each other. At any rate, Roy MacGregor at the Globe and Mail has some excellent suggestions for beginning the conversation between the American head of state and ours (oh wait, he isn't really, is he?...scratch that). It is an excellent look at the paradoxes of Canadian politics and of the Canadian character. Certainly an important introduction to any visiting diplomat. At the very least, he'll be familiar with The Hockey Song.

Suffice to say, changes are taking place all over and with greater speed than most of us can wrap our heads around, even in this post-twitter global village we inhabit. The whole thing is, in many ways, a mess. It would almost be laughable if it weren't so serious. But there is something in the wind that suggests we may yet come out on top.

On the one hand, the future is bleak. But on the other hand, maybe it isn't.

Dreaming toward a brighter future.

President-elect Barack Obama's open letter to his daughters explaining why he decided to run for president. It's all over the web. And with good reason.


Dear Malia and Sasha,

I know that you've both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn't have let you have. But I also know that it hasn't always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn't make up for all the time we've been apart. I know how much I've missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.

When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me-about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.

I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential-schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college-even if their parents aren't rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.

I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you'll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.

Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country-but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free-that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.

That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.

She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better-and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It's a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.

I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you've had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much-although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.

These are the things I want for you-to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That's why I've taken our family on this great adventure.

I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House.

Love, Dad

Originally published on Parade.com.

Mercer and Ignatieff Moving In

I was kind of bummed that I missed the Rick Mercer Report on TV last night. Fortunately, Michael Ignatieff tweeted the link today. Here it is: Rick Mercer helps Michael Ignatieff move into Stornoway. And here's a link to Rick's website and blog. Now maybe he can help Stephen Harper with the budget.

Keeping it real, community-style.

This morning’s encounter combined with my daily internet reading list has me thinking about community. Community being a fairly constant theme in my musings, it’s something I have a lot of ideas about—unfortunately more than I currently have time to express. But, suffice to say for now, I think we all have a longing to belong somewhere and I think that part of the key to both surviving and thriving as a starving artist is to feel that you do belong somewhere. The creative community is a powerful place…and the best way to belong is by participating, however you see fit. Here are some suggestions on how to participate from today’s web surf:

Mike Sheerin, a documentary filmmaker in Toronto, set out to make a film about what kids say to Santa Claus. What Mike Sheerin got was a film about the lives of three local Mall Santas. These three men don the red and white suit for the last month and a half of each year and engage the imagination of every wee one to sit on their knee. For them, this is a calling; it is the highlight of their year. And the end comes abruptly each December 25th, bringing a bittersweet break until next year. Chronicling this, Mall Santa, airs tomorrow night, Thursday, December 18, at 8:00 EST on Global. You can also bring joy to your own local Mall Santa by visiting between now and Christmas Eve!

Check out your local independent bookstore! I know, I have a huge love of Indigo, but I am always on the prowl for a good independent specialty bookstore—on which note, does anyone know of a good drama bookstore in Toronto? Chances are that the staff at a local bookstore are doing it because they love it and because they know their stuff, while Indigo can be great, the case may not be the same. And it turns out that the service they can offer is part of what is keeping them in the game—their connection to the community. So if you have a local bookstore, go see what they have to offer!

And finally (for now), there is a great profile on a Toronto singer/songwriter, Simone Fornow. In addition to her accomplishments thus far just being very neat, I appreciate the locality of her songwriting. It’s immediateness to a specific community, as well as her commitment to community. I won’t write more about her here, you have to go to BlogTO to check out their profile/interview. It’s definitely worth it.

Uxbridge Updated: "What is going on in Canada?"

This is the second update on a post from last week about Uxbridge Secondary School's production of The Laramie Project, which the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kansas was planning to protest. Well, a mom of one of the boys in the cast found my post and was kind enough to give us an update on the situation. And now the weekend is over, the play went up, the WBC was nowhere to be found, and we, up here in Canada, are one step closer to acceptance for everyone. Here is what she came back to say:

Well, it’s all over now. The three night run of The Laramie Project is complete and thanks to Fred Phelps and his band of crazies from Kansas, the 16 performers and their teacher have had their 15 minutes of fame. And the WBC never even showed up. I'd love to send them a thank you letter for all of the free publicity and noteriety, but why poke the bear? The kids got letters from Rick Mercer and Michael Ignatieff among others. They got a page 5 spot in the Globe, right below Ted Rogers' funeral. Most importantly, the town turned out in big numbers to see and support the play. It was a great experience for all of the kids and has hooked many of them on the performing arts. Thanks for taking an interest.

What I really love about this is that, in an attempt to preach hate, intolerance, cruelty, and injustice, all the Westboro Baptist Church succeeded in was uniting one small community against all of those things. It's exciting to hear about things like this and, in light of a world that seems every day to be crumbling around us with war, death, poverty, hunger, and hatred, progress of this sort offers a tiny glimmer of hope for humanity. At least, that's what I think.


Thank you, mom from Uxbridge, for sharing! I wish the students in Uxbridge all the best in their future theatrical endeavours and hope they will share them with me, too!

"What is going on in Canada?" Update!

So, I posted this in my blog on Wednesday about the production of The Laramie Project in Uxbridge, Ontario and the threat of protests from Westboro Baptist Church. Since then it has generated some interest--you can even find me if you google "Uxbridge Laramie Project." Which means someone is reading my blog! Other than me!! I know, not really the place for self indulgence, but it put a smile on my face and I appreciate it/all of you who might be reading this.

To the point, though...This comment was then posted by the mother of one of the cast members giving us an update:

Update from Uxbridge.

My son is in the play. They opened officially last night to about 200 people and no protesters. The unofficial opening was a performance reserved for students of the school. They actually had to turn away 250 of the 800 students who wanted to purchase tickets because the auditorium maxes out at 550. That was yesterday afternoon. Both went off without a hitch. The kids should be, and are, extremely proud of themselves. Bring on the unenlightened. We look forward to hosting their backward ideas in our progressive little town.

And that puts an even bigger smile on my face. See how exciting "controversial" theatre can be? This is why I love theatre: the discussion it creates, the energy, the community. I am so impressed by and so proud of the community of Uxbridge. This mom really says it all, and I will continue to wish them the best and to think of them, though I have prior commitments preventing me from attending.

Hopefully we will continue to get updates, with or without the presence of protesters. Because the protesters are secondary, the real story is Uxbridge.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Branagh.

It's Kenneth Branagh's birthday today. I'm a big fan. Like, I might have a big crush on him. Don't worry, it's a talent one. I just think he's lovely. And he might even entice me to go see Valkyrie. Although Tom Cruise provokes my gag reflex, so maybe not. But I do wish him a happy birthday, and all future success. I highly recommend checking out his work if you're unfamiliar. I quite enjoy his Much Ado About Nothing, although Imelda Staunton is not as big a fan (random story, another day). But I really recommend his Henry V. Sigh...

"What is going on in Canada?"

This weekend, 16 students at Uxbridge Secondary School will take the stage in their production of The Laramie Project. For any unfamiliar, though I am not sure how you could be if you're reading this, The Laramie Project is a play derived from interviews conducted with real people in Laramie, Wyoming in the aftermath of the kidnapping, beating, and eventual death of Matthew Shepard, a 21 year old student and gay man. It reveals the wounds caused in one community by homophobia and hatred. This is heavy stuff for teenagers, but maybe a high school, especially one in a town of less than 20,000, is the perfect place to stage this play. Maybe if someone in Laramie had done something similar, the whole affair could have been avoided. At any rate, these student and their teacher, Amy Blizzard, should be commended for having the courage to tackle The Laramie Project.

Now enter the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kansas. These "Christian" followers of Pastor Fred Phelps, the man who protested Matthew Shepard's funeral, which is depicted in The Laramie Project, have plans to head north to protest this production and to teach these teenagers the "truth." There have been rumors that the group would protest in Canada in the past and they have always been a no-show, but this time, Phelps's daughter confirms that a group of six is prepared to drive up here with their hate-mongering signs. I will not reprint their slogans here. She also implies that they shouldn't have to drive all that way, that we in Canada should be doing this ourselves to educate these children. "What is going on in Canada?" she asks.

I'll tell you. In Canada, for all our differences and our grievances with one another, we believe that all people, regardless of race, religion, sexual orientation, etc., have a right to live their lives. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and we are capable of peacefully co-existing without always agreeing. What is going on in Canada is that we do not believe in hate. We do not preach hate, we do not condone hate, and we certainly will not tolerate hate. But you are entitled to your opinion. So come on up, Phelpsies, give us your best. And we will give you ours. When Phelps protested Matthew Shepard's funeral, one of Matt's friends organized a counter protest. These counter protesters wore giant white angel wings and stood silently with their backs to Phelps and his group. Silently blocking out hate. I feel this is an excellent response, and the only thing they deserve. We will not engage your hatred, we are above that.

I would encourage everyone with a means of transportation to go support these students. It's a great thing that they're doing, regardless of Phelps. But take your angel wings, just in case he shows up....

The Laramie Project at Uxbridge Secondary School
127 Planks Lane, Uxbridge
December 11, 12, and 13 8:00
$10 at the door

How interesting...

I mentioned War Child Canada yesterday in this post and, lo and behold, the first thing I saw in the Globe and Mail this morning was this. The founder of War Child Canada, Dr. Samantha Nutt, has been nominated as a Nation Builder for 2008. Follow the link to see what people have said about her. I just thought this was an interesting coincidence...

The End of An Era.

Last night marked the final "episode" of the cult/going mainstream hit Trailer Park Boys on Showcase. I happen to think these guys are brilliant, if a bit off colour. There is an interview with them in the Star and, judging by the comments, clearly people either love them or hate them. Whatever your personal feelings, you have to admire the fact that these guys and Mike Clattenburg had a crazy idea, went with it, and wound up with a hit series, a few specials, a movie, and a sequel due out in February, I believe. And, as a bonus, they have had the chance to work with some incredible artists in different mediums throughout their careers as the Boys, including touring with Guns 'n Roses and an ongoing relationship with The Tragically Hip. Gordon Downie was in last night's final episode. And I think I spotted Rob Baker buying weed from Julian. Bonus, if you've never seen it, here is The Tragically Hip video for The Darkest One. Check it out! And so long, Trailer Park Boys, it's been a good ride. Can't wait to see what the future brings from you...

Mark Shaiman: Musical Genius

Apparently, the great musical mind behind Proposition 8: The Musical was none other than Mark Shaiman, also the composer of Hairspray and of many songs from South Park: Bigger, Longer, & Uncut. It started when Shaiman emailed basically everyone he knew about the news that Scott Eckern, the musical director of Sacramento’s California Musical Theater, donated money to a Yes-on-Prop 8 campaign. Shaiman was totally outraged (and rightfully so, in my opinion) that someone who works so closely with a community that encompasses many, many gay, lesbian, and transgendered people and who profits by their work could do such a thing. Mr. Eckern has since resigned, for which Shaiman expresses some remorse as that was never his intention.

Proposition 8: The Musical was put together in about a week after Adam McKay, one of the co-founders of Funny or Die, having received Shaiman's email, asked him to write a song about it. Since then, the video has received more than a million hits. Though Shaiman feels it's unfortunate he didn't think of it several weeks earlier, he did say he felt better for having done it. See? Activism makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

For the full interview in the NY Times, click here. Photo AP/Funny or Die

Leonard Cohen: Renaissance Man

The living legend that is Leonard Cohen--Canadian singer-songwriter, novelist, poet, and now visual artist--currently has an exhibition of his drawings in Vancouver. They were previously shown here in Toronto during the Luminato Festival. His son, Adam Cohen, talks about the exhibit and his famous father in this sweet article in The Globe and Mail.

The exhibit is at Linda Lando Fine Art, 2001 W. 41st Ave., Vancouver, from Friday until Dec. 31.
See where diversifying could lead some day?

Fighting Back Through The Magic of Song and Dance!

This is quite possibly the greatest thing I've seen all week. Better even than the Bad Sex Lifetime Achievement Award. Not possible, you say? Oh, but wait...

I found this on Perez Hilton (my guiltiest of all guilty pleasures). I have to say, it's pretty brilliant. It originally came from Funny or Die. What is it? You really should click the link to find out...

Okay, but I'll still tell you. It is Proposition 8: The Musical.

In case you've been living under a rock, Proposition 8 was the ballot initiative that just squeaked by in California, effectively writing discrimination into the state constitution. While the US took a massive step toward equality as a country in the recent November election (they Ba-rocked the vote, if you will), California banned gay marriage. This sparked mass outrage and became a hugely divisive issue...just as the country was on the brink of some sort of unity.

Anyway, I won't go totally political, but the video--a star-studded affair with Jack Black, John C. Reilly, Neil Patrick Harris, Maya Rudolph and many more--is hilarious. And, spoiler alert, basically says that gay marriage is the answer to the current economic crisis.

Funny or Die just keeps getting better.

Dwight Says Keep It Real, Weirdos.

"As an actor, instead of a paintbrush, your medium is yourself, so the more you work with yourself and the more trust you have in yourself, the further you'll go. But sometimes with actors, the last thing they work on is themselves. There's never been a bunch of more needy, approval-seeking, insecure weirdos than actors."

--Rainn Wilson (AKA Dwight Schrute of The Office)
On getting more work by being himself