Tickle your fancy

Are we not men? No! We are Jermaine Jackson and DEVO! performing together in a Halloween special in 1982!

Honestly, back in the day, I never understood why this song was not a number 1 in the U.S. Instead it had to "settle" for top 20 pop/top 5 R&B. Nothing to be ashamed of but a chart ranking middling enough to guarantee obscurity within just a few years.

Get this: You had a member of the Jackson mafia family, which was everywhere in the early 1980s. You had the ultra hip new wave band DEVO, which was probably at the peak of its alternative popularity. (At least if memory serves from my college days.) You had an incredibly catchy hook ("Let me tickle your fancy/let me excite your soul") and a highly danceable beat. And you had a very adorable and sexy Jermaine doing his best work, a few years before he'd crash and burn his credibility with a duet with Pia Zadora.

In essence, you had 1982 in a 3-minute pop nutshell.

Maybe it was racism--"black people don't play rock 'n' roll" and all that bullshit. Maybe it was a less popular Jackson in the spotlight (neither feast nor fowl, neither Michael nor Janet). Maybe it was a song stuck between worlds, not R&B, not rock, attempting to appeal to too many audiences through the talents of two slightly less than high profile performers. (How is this that different to "State of Shock," the Michael Jackson-Rollling Stones hit from 1984?) Maybe it was danceable but not in the right way - too alternative, not Hi NRG, disco's cheap, tacky, easy little sister. Maybe it was too perfect of a song and sounded like a lot of other stuff on the charts at the time. Which maybe it did, maybe it didn't.

Regardless, I thought this was a perfect pop gem at the time and still do nearly 40 (!!!) years later. Frankly, as old as it is, it still seems more exciting, entertaining, and authentic than every piece of pop pablum on the scene at this time.

Yeah, I'm *that* old.

March of the Faucettos

I ain't tappin' that: "My Faucet" by Marcus Quigmire.
CC BY 2.0 Generic. Via Wikimedia Commons.

I have a dripping faucet in my bathroom. Maybe it only needs a washer, maybe it's something more. I do not know. I'm not a plumber. It's been like this for a week. The whole week, in fact, has been like this for a week.

So I called maintenance for my building, but they can't--or won't--do anything about the problem. I do not know why.

They tell me to call a plumber. Which is complicated by the fact that I don't own but rent a condo, so I have to get my landlord's permission to call a plumber.

And why do I rent a condo and not own one or rent an apartment instead, you ask? Because I live in a city that dreams of being socialist but is actually quite the capitalist--or perhaps is just shitty at and indifferent to both, like it is at pretty much everything service-oriented, transportation-based, or creative and inspiring. (Worst public art ever.) And thus there's no money in apartments, and only the wealthy can afford to own the condos. And while I do ok, I'm not at the "I just spent a million maple leaves on a 300 square foot condo" level of income. Maybe in another year. Or fifty.

Anyway, the landlord is cool, go ahead call the plumber, and I'll reimburse you, no problem. She's like that, and I believe her.

So I call the plumber and am asked what kind of faucet is it? As in what brand.

And I'm like, I don't know, it's in the bathroom, it's a bathroom sink faucet and there's no brand name on it. (I double-checked.)

"We only service Moën faucets." You know, the expensive, stylish ones, that emit a stream of lukewarm water onto a flat rock. The water glides from the flat rock into a tray, then dribbles into a minuscule drain, and eventually plunges into Lake Ontario or some such. And somehow you're supposed to shave in this sink, the Rube Goldberg machine of modern plumbing.

Well, hunh, I'm pretty sure there are other types of faucets out there, not just Moën, but never say never. You live in Canada, you get used to fewer retail options. (Really, are Grape Nuts that hard to import?) I'm guessing because it's a small country that, as mentioned, has a peculiar, middling, I dunno what do you wanna do? I don't know what do you wanna do? relationship with socialism, capitalism, and pretty much everything animate or inanimate.

"Do you have the parts?"

Well, no, because I don't know what the problem is, so why would I have the parts? It's probably a washer, and if it is, I'm sure you could spare one, but, honestly, I'M NOT A FUCKING PLUMBER SO HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW?!

Interior monologue only, I promise.

"Well, we'll replace it with Moën and charge you for it if you don't have the parts."

Seriously, is Moën the Faucet Mafia and if you don't use them, you end up with a dead horse in your bed?

"Send us a picture of the faucet, try to identify it, and we'll get back to you next week."

Oh, I'll get right on that.

I suspect that if I were to do business with them--which I won't--they'd replace the entire sink, maybe even the cabinetry and the mirror, even though the faucet only needed a washer, because they feel impelled to make everything Moën.

(Or as one of my friends said when I related this story to him: "Sorry, you're going to have to move.")

I know Greta Thunberg won't be pleased with me, but I'm thinking of letting the faucet drip until it becomes a water feature or a fountain. (It's dripping hot water, so let's call it a hot spring or a thermal bath. Les Bains au Harbourfront peut-être ....) Then maybe I can build condos and retail around it, make lots of maple leaves, and retire early.

Screw librarianship. I think I should have become a plumber. I would have made a lot more money and get away with baring my teeth and my ass to the world for fun and profit.

¿Qué será mi vida?

Like I said, always choose disco.

Choose disco

This is probably way too much yellow fabric and blue eyeshadow for a rainy October morning, but some of us choose to jumpstart the day with drugs while others, like me, choose disco.

The Gibson Brothers (who, despite the Anglo sounding name, were actually Francophones from Martinique) represent a phase of late 1970s French/Belgian pop hitmaking that no one other than me would possibly be interested in. Long live the production team of Daniel Vangarde and Jean Kluger!

From this era and from this production team, I am particularly fond of "Cuba" but also of another Gibson Brothers' hit, "Qué Será Mi Vida (If You Should Go)," which was popular the year I made my debut at the cotillion of publicly acknowledged homosexuality. That is to say, bounded out of the closet and into the hearts and minds of a small but highly valued group of family and friends.

Cuuuuubaaaaaa, quiero bailar la salsa ....

The party's over (or at least in the minority)

Justin Trudeau in 2019. Public Domain.
Via Wikimedia Commons.

I have a lot to learn about the Canadian political mindset. Despite having to form a minority government, the Liberals and Justin Trudeau really didn't take that much of a hit, losing fewer than 20 seats since the 2015 election. Every Toronto riding was won by the Liberals.

And yet, especially over the last two years, the bloom has definitely been off the Justin Trudeau rose, at least if you were to believe comments made in public news forums and by opinion makers, ethics review boards, and non-Liberal politicians. 

I'm not sure what my lessons learned are. The Doug Ford Conservative government in Ontario hurt Conservatives overall? The opposition choices were unappealing (Conservative Andrew Scheer), untested (NDP Jagmeet Singh - or "too ethnic"? Something few Canadians would confess to, at least in public), or region-specific (Bloc Québécois Yves-François Blanchet) to make much of a difference? Canadians aren't as progressive as they virtue signal? (Poor showing by the Greens, lacklustre showing by the NDP.) Or people voted strategically for the Liberals to block the Conservatives?

I know Justin Trudeau plays very well outside Canada, but I've had an increasingly hard time taking him seriously over the last year, after some broken promises, fake virtue signaling, and fratboy douche privilege displaying. (Blackface, brownface, and a certain smugness papered over by nice hair and a good complexion.) When your alternatives are Doug Ford, Boris Johnson, Donald Trump, and Mauricio Macri (Argentina's current failed-state leader), I guess you can't help but look good to the world. Nevertheless, the world deserves better.

Surprisingly, I've sort of overlooked his ethics violations in the SNC-Lavalin affair: I thought that was more a tempest in a teapot, perhaps a disappointment to some but seeming more like an example of honest/dishonest politicking than anything else. At least it was real if not necessarily ethical.

One thing I hear a lot about here is about the "failure" of the U.S. political system to have more than two parties. Well, in this election, we had six vying for a majority in Canada, and I can't say that the results were all that different than with just two. It's a parliamentary system, so it's different from the outset--technically, you're voting for the party representative for your riding, not for the prime minister. And yet there are still some of the same challenges - uninspiring leaders, tepid voter turnout (about 66%, still much better than in the U.S.), middling results, and the reality that the Conservatives won the national popular vote, yet still are in the minority parliament-wise.

So maybe the lesson learned is that politics and governance suck everywhere, even in the most "enlightened" of spaces?

Oh, sooorry you had to read all the way through for me to reach that conclusion ....

* * *

The outcome of the Canadian election tells me that I am actually not a Supposed Former Drama Junkie after all. (Alanis Morissette reference, y'all. #CanCon)

Seriously, I find myself somewhat disappointed, even aggravated by the rather drab outcome--even though I should be pleased with the outcome, at least in theory.

"Rob Ford at the 2013 Beaches Easter parade" by
Bruce Reeve. CC BY-SA 2.0. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Mulling it over today, I kept thinking where is the drama? Where is the marching in the streets, setting couches on fire, and breaking storefront plate glass windows? Where is the plan to start campaigning beginning one minute after midnight on the day after election results are announced? Where is the name-calling, whining, and stamping of feet? Where is the endless dissection of results, the ad nauseum ruminations the election's Deeper Meanings, and overwrought analyses of the thoughts and feelings of white working-class voters?

My goodness, last week there was a 24-hour period in which President Shitstorm (aka Mussoleaky aka Il Douchey aka Donald Trump) and his mobster cabinet messed up more than all six Canadian political parties have done in the last four years. Hell, probably in the last four decades, given how the national ethose appears to be "safety first."

Maybe I need to detox for a while from the clusterfudge that is U.S., U.K., and Argentine politics. Or maybe Canadian politics need to be crazier. we hardly knew ye!
Rob Ford,

Maybe I need to sit down, shut up, and be careful of what I wish for?

Yeah, that, too.

Two can play

Governor Goodhair goes down