Fisheyeiana #1

Let's get this mistake good and made. A gold star for anyone who can identify the creative artists captured in the fisheye lens. The answer may perhaps be revealed by The Answer.

Why do advertising firms anthropomorphize the food they are trying to sell? Is there a cannibalistic imperative latent in all of us, particularly children? Take, as one example, the Mini-Wheats commercial that depicts animated children (an alienation effect in itself, no doubt) brutally ingesting their glutenous victims, fully sentient and seemingly thrilled with their lot in life as they haplessly writhe within the blanched waves of their cereal bowl? Not to mention M&Ms. The evolution (or devolution) from animated mascots to self-aware food appears to have been realized. Bon appetit!

I am also reminded of something that only belongs in a formless forum such as this. As reported in a newspaper article I read back in 2003 (aka the Mists of Antiquity), Deep Purple is revered by a current generation of post-Soviet Russian youth. When the band played there in the 1980s (perhaps the legendary "Perfect Strangers" tour?), many young and desperate eastern Slavs looked to them as larger than Lenin. Yes, I always tear up when I hear that stirring ode to the galactic proletariat, Space Truckin. This also reminds me of a mid-80s, early 90s encounter with Ian Gillen that a friend related to me. At the table they shared, the hero of the post-revolution, in a miraculous performance worthy of modern hagiography, simultaneously dragged on a cigarette and snorted a whiskey. A wondrous prescription for the vocal chords. Jesus Christ! superstar, indeed.

Speaking of semi-legendary figures, I am thinking today, oddly enough, about a denizen of my hometown who is usually referred to only as The Kid. This 50 yr-old wunderkind, now weaned off a lifetime regime of milk and vodka, recently had his foot amputated, and before that, had a portentous, horn-like growth removed from the centre of his forehead. "Oh, that little flap of skin? Its a skin tag, I wish I could get rid of it", now available at your local pharmacy, it appears.

Social networking is a sign of the Apocalypse. But who am I to say -- having rejected these heuristics of identity, I am not a fully realized self.

I miss going to conferences. No more panels such as (Re) Membering Milton: the carnal commonwealth of the Puritan res publicae.

I'm thankful for my country home. It gives me peace of mind. Someplace I can walk alone, and leave myself behind. Those lyrics, from the best and likely most forgotten album from a Canadian icon, don't make a lot of sense. If the butchering needs to be corrected, another gold star.