|
National Post Articles
Today's discerning rock consumer wishes to be entertained without going broke, so if you couldn't get a ticket for tonight's Oasis concert at Maple Leaf Gardens, consider a Britpop alternative: Wonderwall (the ultimate Oasis tribute band).
Given the journalistic tradition of over-intellectualizing that which is devoid of intellect (Survivor et al.), an analysis of moose iconography and semiotics seems not only appropriate but in keeping with the Zeitgeist.
Pity the sensitive and thoughtful American male who finds love on a television game show. Programs like Blind Date don't think twice about humiliating contestants to ensure good ratings. Luckily, Canadian shows aren't driven by the same sensibility that bred such shows as STUDS and Change of Heart. Guess the Charter of Rights and Freedoms lets us duck questions like, "If you were a vegetable, which one would you be and why?"
Why does the centre of the universe lack a centrally located bowling alley?
The giant robot, that clinking, clattering cacophony of connected cogs and camshafts, has always fascinated a certain segment of the population. But for some reason, this enduring, somewhat endearing mechanical creature has become even more widely popular.
A few blocks north of Eglinton Avenue East and Don Mills Road, on a quiet, tree-filled Greenbelt Street, in the main hallway of the Janssen-Ortho Pharmaceutical Company, lurks the largest retrospective on contraception in the world.
Peer out through a grimy window of the Drake Hotel and you will see the denizens of Queen West performing what Jane Jacobs described as "an intricate sidewalk ballet."
But somehow, through a process that will remain forever a mystery, the combination of World-Class Cityitis and our oft-praised multi-culturalism has conspired to ordain rice noodles, egg and peanuts a litmus test of sophistication.
Anyone who's had one of Toronto's two ambulance buses whoosh past them has probably cringed with fear. If anything portends really bad news, it's the sight of a 10-metre-long bus hurtling down the street, lights ablaze.
Review of One Market Under God: Extreme Capitalism, Market Populism, and the End of Economic Democracy by Thomas Frank.
Review of The Middle Stories by Sheila Heti.
Review of Lemon by Lawrence Krauser.
As a reviewer myself, I think this sustained public debate about weak-kneed book reviews is easily the most exciting thing to happen to our metier since the London Review of Books started accepting personal ads.
Last winter, the trend was toward less-is-more, as the novella found itself in the gentle glare of the 25-watt CanLit spotlight. If the buzz was less than deafening, if the thin spines of The Haunted Hillbilly, Stevenson Under the Palm Trees and All My Friends Are Superheroes missed your gaze, don't blame yourself.
HipLit has decided to grow up a little, or at the very least, get a job, shave off the goatee and buy a crisp new suit. Meanwhile, the younger siblings HipLit helped inspire are vacillating between punk and Prairie, and for the most part, choosing the latter.
This is an introduction to a hidden miniature playground only two minutes away from the honking, heaving, urban criss-cross of Queen and Spadina.
Never Threaten to Eat Your Co-Workers is a best-of-blogs collection, and while freeze-drying and repackaging blog excerpts is a new idea, those who follow writings from the margins will recall a similar trend occurring during the zine revolution of the mid-1990s.
Despite innumerable readings at Harbourfront, it's safe to say Margaret Atwood has never stood behind a podium and sung a song about Frankenstein.
Comedian David Shore recently decided to tweak the traditional improv format of rapid-fire mind games by creating a venue for long-form improvisation.
|
|
|
