Destination Truth

(Note: The above link is just part 1, please refer to YouTube for the rest of the show!)

Did anyone else happen to see this episode of "Destination Truth"? I was thinking about that audio recording from the crematorium all last night! Usually this program does a really good job of debunking the "paranormal" but there seems to be absolutely no explanation for that recording. (That is, excluding the notion that it was faked.) Too weird!

Do you believe in ghosts? If so, what do you think they are exactly?

Do you think they're really the tortured spirits of the departed who just aren't ready to "move on"? Here's a bullshit theory that I made up once that has absolutely no basis in fact: What if there's actually a parallel dimension/alternate reality and the encounters we have with "ghosts" are just points where that dimension and ours happen to intersect...? You'd really have to get your tin foil hat on to accept that one, I know... but who can say for sure?

I'm not sure that I believe in the supernatural but I do enjoy stories about it on the level of really entertaining fiction. I do believe in the possibility that certain creatures/phenomenon might exist, and I'm open to hearing compelling proof if anyone could ever come up with it. And occasionally I enjoy being freaked out. Men in Black absolutely terrify me (no, I don't mean the Will Smith movie) and I find the idea of Bigfoot plausible and creepy. There's a lot on this planet that we just don't know about yet so I'm open to the possibility that such things could exist (but that doesn't mean that I think they do exist).

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Rainy Saturdays and comic shops

On rainy Saturday mornings I get a tinge of sadness. Not because the soggy SJ weather brings me down (although it does suck) but because it reminds me of when Christian and I used to go hang out at The Sorcerer's Stone. Although I didn't live here very long before the store closed I still developed an attachment to the place. (And it seemed like most of our trips there were on rainy Saturday afternoons, so it's an associative thing for me.) When The Sorcerer's Stone closed, and Joe died, it left a gaping hole in the uptown and in local "geek" culture. We don't really have an "old school" comic shop/hangout anymore. Sure, we have Mad City Comics but it's inside Read's/United Book Store, so it's not strictly a "comic shop". You can get comics and paraphernalia there, the staff are nice & you can hang out a bit (although it's not really conducive to long stays), but there are all these non-geeks coming in there buying cigarettes and trading in their musty paperbacks. Then there's Gamezilla, but it's way over on the West side, so it's doesn't have that "downtown" vibe that a true comic shop has. Plus, comics aren't the main focus of Gamezilla: they're secondary to gaming (TCGs, role playing, minis, video games, etc. are their main stock, then manga/anime their second focus, with comics probably coming in third). What Gamezilla does have going for it is that "clubhouse" feel, where you can go waste an afternoon hanging out with your friends, and again the staff is cool. Still, neither of those places is, in my mind, a "true" comic shop. I've been to a lot of comic shops and when I think back on the truly great ones, there are general characteristics that they all share.

When I think of what makes a great comic shop is a combination of nostalgia and the "underground" factor. This is one part the "musty, dusty" stuff and one part cutting edge. By "musty, dusty", I'm sure you know what I mean: basically what you might describe as "the old curiosity shop". Prized golden-age and silver age comics lining the walls (something to drool over and aspire to one day buying); rows and rows of long boxes of alphabetized back issues (for treasure hunting); and the "museum pieces", ie, assorted collector's items from by-gone eras like baseball cards and old toys (ie, things you wouldn't want to buy but enjoy looking at). The really good "old school" comic shops generally have this same look (kind of worn and dingy, downtown storefront), and yes a distinctive smell (very dusty and slightly moldy!). On the flip side, a good comic shop also needs an underground or "cutting edge" factor too. By "cutting edge" I'm referring to items that were more modern and had a quirkier bent to them. In this category are the "indie" comics, photocopied zines, strange import books, fan magazines devoted to really obscure topics, etc. These are the types of materials you'd never see anywhere else but a comic shop. You'd never be exposed to this type of stuff in a "mainstream" place like a drug store comic rack or a flea market table. These are what you might call the skeezier items: either too racy/controversial/violent or too obscure and fan-specific to be palatable to the casual consumer. With these items lay the possibility of discovering something new and interesting...or it might go completely over your head.

Finally, a third characteristic of a great comic shop is the "Cheers" factor. You know, a place where everybody knows your name. I touched on this earlier with Mad City and Gamezilla, but a comic shop tends to be a hangout for like-minded individuals (ok, "geeks") and there's a social aspect to shopping there. Any given time you visit the shop you're bound to see someone you know there. The workers know you, remember your tastes and interests, and they're usually free to sit behind the counter & chat. The best shops invariably have a character, a distinctive personality, that everyone associates with the store. In the case of The Sorcerer's Stone, it was Joe Harris. So, a great comic shop can be a kind of clubhouse, where you might go just to seek friendship not necessarily to buy anything. Even when you visit a comic shop in another city, you tend to see the same thing. You can almost spot the "counterparts" people have in other cities!

In Halifax it's Strange Adventures. In Bangor it's Topshelf Comics. In Toronto it's The Beguiling. No matter where you go, the feel is pretty much the same. Here it used to be The Sorcerer's Stone, and although there are some worthy successors, nothing has truly replaced it.

This is my happening and it freaks me out!

I love Ghost World so much I could smash it!

The Boob Tube

A few months ago we finally broke-down and subscribed to digital cable.  This is the first time that I personally have ever bothered paying for tv (...as opposed to just getting local signals out the air for free, or just having the tv serve as a monitor for a dvd/vcr/video game).  Some of you probably recall the old rabbit ears we used to have taped to our living room walls back in our apartment days.  Although I usually have one or two programs I enjoy, I've never been much of a tv watcher.  Usually I can find something else to do with my time (you'll notice I didn't say "more productive", just "something else"!)  These days I find myself spending more time parked in front of the tube.  Here's a sample of some of the things I'll admit that you can catch me watching:

You may be surprised but I honestly enjoy this show.  There's a lot to be learned from this, mostly about how, whether right or wrong, people judge you almost entirely on your appearance.  And part of me simply enjoys the catty things Stacy & Clinton say.  Me-ow!

I'm extremely skeptical about this show and their methods (more about that another time) but it doesn't stop me from watching it.  I'm not sure I even believe in the paranormal.  A far more frightening show is this:

I have a hard time watching "Hoarders" but I'll usually tune-in if I notice that it's on.  I become transfixed in horror and I usually sit there just gaping slack-jawed at it.  This is would be a nightmare for me.  The only show scarier than this is "19 Kids and Counting".  (*shudder*)

As I like to remark to Christian every Sunday morning: "They're putting on a show for us... and it's really good!"  (Ok, a little in-joke.) This is extremely well-done and I'm convinced the target audience is meant to be "fanboys", not kids.  A recent episode started out with a little homage to Ditko, then turned into a story about the Green Lantern Corps with all kinds of cameos by various lesser Lanterns.  Nice one!  I'll also hang around for "Spectacular Spider-Man"; a show that means well & tries hard but it just doesn't measure up to the Bat.

There are a few other shows that I'll flip around and watch.  Usually just silly stuff like "Mantracker".  If there's a good documentary on or a decent movie (especially an old one on TCM) I'll sometimes watch that.  Something that doesn't require much attention or continuity is good for me.  (Apart from when I watch "Lost", of course!)   

This show is hilarious, though I've only seen a couple of episodes.  It reminds me of a video game from the early 90s.  Even the characters have their own unique finishing moves -- like the guy with the pepper spray!  People are nuts.

What are you watching these days? 

"Picnic": A Socio-Sexual Examination. Final Part (Honest!)

"Picnic". Columbia Pictures 1955. Directed by Joshua Logan, based on a play by William Inge. Starring William Holden, Kim Novak and Rosalind Russell.

All photos & video clips used solely for the purposes of review and are copyright of their owners.

Here's the 4th and final installment of my hyperbole peppered, yet not completely off the mark classic movie review of "Picnic".

Recap: Things go to Hell in a picnic basket as Hal and Madge work their sexy magic on the dance floor, underage Millie gets liquored up and Rosemary Sydney gets violently sexual... and it's all Hal's fault!

And now the stunning conclusion. (Spoilers abound.)

Objectified and humiliated, Hal runs off and Madge follows. He steals Alan's car (and why not? After all, he's stealing his girlfriend too!) He drives back to the spot where he first hopped off the train all the while cursing his luck, the town, the whole damn thing. (By the way, I should point out that all the action of this film takes place within one day. So sexy Hal managed to screw-up several lives within a few short hours!) Madge starts pumping Hal...for information, that is... encouraging him to spill his guts. He confides in Madge that taking Alan's car isn't exactly his first "grand theft auto"... he spent his youth in Reform School for stealing a motorcycle. And although he'd hoped to "settle down" in this town he's burned too many bridges now and anyway he basically has a track record of bungling things his whole life. Turns out it ain't easy being sexy. Madge can attest to that. They have a little heart to heart that ends in a feverish lip-lock. Out comes the freight train (oh, such subtle imagery there!) They spend the night together.

Meanwhile, back at the rooming house... Howard takes Rosemary home. Both are a little "gun shy" after Rosemary's raunchy behaviour at the picnic. (You know... That "minor indiscretion" where Rosemary sexually harassed Hal, tore his shirt off, then threw a major hissy fit in front of the entire town.) Rosemary begins grovelling to Howard, pleading with him to marry her. Howard's not too keen; after all, he's grown accustomed to his bachelor life (and frankly, now that Rosemary's shown herself to be a fickle and violent hussy can you blame him?) Rosemary's not too proud to beg and literally gets down on her knees imploring him to rescue her from her spinster life. It's just one awkward situation to another with her, isn't it? Ultimately the choice is Howard's but his instructions are to return to the rooming house in the morning and they'll elope.

In the wee hours of the morning Hal and Madge skulk back to the rooming house. He tries to gauge her satisfaction level but she's a bit aloof (a far cry from how she jumped his bones a few short hours ago). Hal gets a bit pushy, trying to arrange a second "date" but Madge is playing coy. She admits that she wants to "punish" him. Geez, one night together and already Madge starts with the head games! Then Hal remembers the little matter of the stolen car. Oops.

Hal arrives at Alan's house to find the police there. Alan reported the car as stolen, since "stealing" a girlfriend isn't really a crime. Flaccid Alan throws a feeble punch at Hal but again it's clear that he's just no match for Hal physically. Hal tries to take the high road, brushing off Alan's attempts to fight. Jilted, enraged, and clearly the biggest loser in all of this, Alan orders the cops to arrest Hal (even though the car is now returned). The idea of going back to jail gives Hal a flashback of his misspent youth in "juvie". He tries to leave peacefully but Alan attacks him again. Hal assaults the two police officers in the scuffle then flees, giving them a real reason to arrest him. Good thing Hal is used to running away. Delusional Alan vows to his father that he still plans to marry Madge. Yeah...good luck with that, Al.

Now a "wanted man" (in more ways than one!), Hal turns up on the doorstep of Howard Bevans' house seeking refuge... and a place to crash for the rest of the night...and maybe a shave and change of clothes would be nice... oh and a ride over to the rooming house in the morning if it's not too much trouble. Well, he is a bum, after all! Howard is reluctant to make an appearance at the rooming house again. Gee, I wonder why?

Morning comes. It's the first day of school and Rosemary Sydney's running around as nervous as a cat awaiting her groom. Sure enough, Howard's car pulls up secretly transporting fugitive Hal. Howard has decided to refuse Rosemary's proposal... not that it really matters what he wants. Before Howard has the chance to reject her, Rosemary effectively tells the other schoolmarms to "suck it" and announces that's she's getting married. The spinsters carry her off in celebration. Poor Howard is hooked and doesn't have the cohones to argue anyway.

In the midst of the commotion Hal sneaks out to meet Madge. Hal is just too sexy for this jerkwater town, and he's burned too many bridges anyway so he plans to hop a train to Tulsa. So if Madge wants to run away and meet him in Tulsa maybe they could hook-up and live in a hotel. Now who could resist an offer like that? (P.S. He's still homeless.) Hal jumps the freight train, standing atop of it waving goodbye... once again parading his huge phallic imagery in the faces of the lonely women of the rooming house.

Well, so much for that.

Back in their room, Madge mopes. Millie swears off men forever, announcing her intention to move to New York City and write scandalous novels. She has no intention of being tied to a man or raising any snot-faced kids. You go, girl! But although she's adopted an Objectivist philosophy for herself, Millie reminds Madge that for some people, being tied to a good-for-nothing lout of a husband and raising a brood of brats is really all they're cut out for so why don't you follow Hal? Madge's mood brightens (apparently she wasn't smart enough to realize that herself.)

Madge packs her bags. Mrs. Owens warns her not to go; even if Hal did ever get a job & marry her, he will only drift away with alcohol and womanizing. I think I feel confident in saying that Mrs. Owens is right; Hal has nothing to offer her but sweaty, chiseled abs and a dubious sense of rhythm. But Madge doesn't care -- as the song goes, she's here for a good time, not a long time. And let's not waste pity on Madge. She coasts through life on her good looks too. I'm sure she'll get by. In Hal, Madge has met her equal.

Millie boards the school bus; Madge boards the greyhound to Tulsa. "The nymphs have departed", each travelling the path to the destiny she's chosen.

So what's the moral of the story? Let's see... We learned that attractive people always get what they want. That men can be just as sexualized and objectified by Hollywood as women are. We also saw that middle America is a melting pot of repression and suffocatingly artificial morality. Or is the moral that although we don't always make the best or brightest decisions that it's a basic human need to be free to pursue them? Nah, that couldn't be.

Thanks for indulging me in the over-long examination. In closing let me say that "Picnic" was neither my favourite William Holden movie nor even the most "fucked up"... that dubious honor goes to "Paris When It Sizzles". Count your blessings I didn't write a long review of that! (But that would involve the painful process of watching it again. *shudder*)

Hollywood horrors

Since I broached the subject in the past couple of posts, what are some of the tv moments you remember most as a child? I'm talking about mostly about the traumatic ones, but we can talk about good memories too.

Some of my most traumatic television moments came from The Bionic Woman of all places! Mind you, I haven't seen that show in several decades, so in writing this I'm relying on my terrified child's memory. Obviously the worst for me were "the Fembots". If you recall, they were female androids that took on the appearance of ordinary women, often posing as someone else. Whenever it was revealed they were a "fembot" their face was torn off to reveal the metal circuitry under the skin. But they still had eyes! Look at this shit!!!

If you remember the "large Marge" scene in "Pee Wee's Big Adventure", the reveal of the fembots played out something like that! Looking at this psychologically, this probably explains why I sometimes feel very suspicious about other women. Hmm...interesting. There was also an episode where the Bionic Woman fought Bigfoot (this may have been a cross-over with The Six Million Dollar Man.) To this day I am still freaked out by the idea of the Sasquatch and am convinced they probably do exist. (Although, in retrospect, I think that bigfoot was being controlled by a dude in a leisure suit with an afro...)

There was another episode of a show, and now I can't remember if it was The Bionic Woman or possibly Nancy Drew/The Hardy Boys (more likely the latter) but it dealt with a haunting and a cave that had Native Indian carvings. When they showed the cave drawings it was dark, there was a flickering fire and there was low, incessant Native chanting going on. I think it was to do with ghosts -- and I remember them cutting to a woman in bed being woken up and this chanting is going on. Obviously that freaked me out too -- so much that I don't remember anything else about it or even what show it was. For all I know it could've been the Bigfoot episode too.

Related to the terrors of The Bionic Woman, my brother used to torment me about the "Venus space probe" on The Six Million Dollar Man. A recurring "enemy" on that show, basically "the probe" was a Russian built space craft that landed in America. It was designed to destroy anything that got in it's way, so naturally only Steve Austin could fight it. Just to pick on me, my brother would chase me around pretending to be the deadly "Venus space probe", saying "the probe! the probe!" in a robotic voice while making a repetitive snapping hand gesture -- really just an excuse to scare the crap out of me & start a wrestling match. Really, I don't think the "Venus space probe" on tv was all that frightening, it was just what my brother turned it into that bothered me!

Another time I recall walking into the room as my parents were watching "Salem's Lot" and accidentally seeing this guy sitting in a dark room slowly rocking in a creaky rocking chair:




AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
(Note to self: delete this mo-fo off my hard drive as soon as I post this!)

Being the kind of nut that I am, I'd love to re-watch some of these past tv horrors now. For one thing it would clarify my memory about them. Another reason would be to "exorcise" some of my childhood demons because this cheesy 70s stuff probably seems pretty tame now.

So go on -- Share your childhood horrors... if you dare!

Imaginus

Does anyone else remember the Imaginus poster sale?


http://www.imaginus.ca/


It was a massive travelling print & poster sale that used to visit university campuses. Usually it hit this neck of the woods in early fall, if I remember correctly. They usually set-up business in the student union building or cafeteria and it was huge! They had posters of pretty much anything you could think of: fine art, music, nature, fantasy, celebrities, almost any movie poster you could think of. The selection was amazing and although they usually had everything sorted by category you could easily spend hours flipping through searching for something that fit your obscure tastes -- and you usually found it!


Recently I got thinking about those Imaginus sales and about my love affair with posters. In my youth I was quite a connoisseur of posters and my walls were usually "wallpapered" with them. Even at a very young age I remember having posters in my bedroom. The first I remember having was one of Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman that my mother gave me. I don't remember necessarily being interested in that show; in retrospect I suspect it was my mother's way of making a subtle feminist statement (remember, Wonder Woman was on the cover of the first issue of Ms. magazine.) Unfortunately, I was too young to appreciate that and I remember well the fate of that poster: jumping up & down on the bed with a handful of crayons I scribbled all over it. Suffice to say my I got in trouble for that little stunt.



The posters changed with my tastes. Usually they reflected movies and tv shows that I liked at the time: E.T., Return of the Jedi, The Greatest American Hero. I even had a Shaun Cassidy (the cuter of "The Hardy Boys") poster that came with one of his records that was handed-down to me from one of my brother's female friends. One early favourite poster was a Raiders of the Lost Ark poster which showed Indy kicking up the dust with his bullwhip. Later on the posters got more and more about "cute boys" and rock bands. A lot of things on my walls were torn out of magazines but also big, full-sized posters too. I was really "into" The Police at the time (Sting seemed less douchey in the 80s!) so I had a lot of them up there...until they were replaced by punks like The Sex Pistols, who were in turn replaced by my greatest musical love, The Smiths. I had a lot of pin-ups torn out of Smash Hits magazine on my walls. Sometimes I just put things up because I liked the aesthetics of it, and didn't necessarily know who the band or actor was. Later into my teens my tastes got geekier and my walls reflected it: Monty Python, comic characters like Wolverine and The Joker, and of course, Star Trek.




Some of them I wish I still had but most of those posters were destroyed or given away to friends over the years. But I do still own a good number of them. I keep most of them in a triangular cardboard mailing tube. The other day I got thinking about some of those posters so I retrieved the tube from my parents' basement. This morning I looked at what was in there. Some of it was cringe-worthy but some of it is still pretty cool. There's a rather unique looking pastel pencil drawing of David Bowie from 1984 that's pretty sweet. A Jack Nicholson from The Shining ("Here's Johnny!") b/w poster. Several Morrissey and The Smiths posters, including some presumably now rare-ish "tour" posters (one of which, from The Queen Is Dead, I still have framed on my studio wall.) And like a lot of young people, I went through a James Dean phase: I have an extremely large, "colourized", floor-to-ceiling James Dean poster that I got off a friend's sister; a b/w shot of him on a motorcycle; and a classic movie poster from "Rebel Without A Cause" (which looks pretty good; I'm considering putting this one up in the studio too!). Oh, and a ton of classic Star Trek posters. It seems my tastes were pretty bi-polar, running the gamut from cool to nerd.


What were some of the posters you had on your walls?

"Picnic": A Socio-Sexual Examination Part 3

"Picnic", Columbia Pictures, 1955. Directed by Joshua Logan, based on a play by William Inge. Starring William Holden, Kim Novak and Rosalind Russell. All photos and videos used solely for the purposes of review.



Apropos of nothing, the third installment in my slightly tongue-in-cheek classic movie review.





Recap: Sexual tensions ride high as handsome hobo Hal Carter joins the desperate women of a small Kansas town at the big Labour Day picnic.

Madge Owens has been crowned the Queen of Neewollah in a ceremony evocative of some pagan fertility ritual. Afterwards there's a dance along the waterfront pavilion. Nerdy Millie attempts to "shake her groove thang" as Hal shows her how it's done. As expected, Hal knows a thing or two about moving his body, but poor Millie can't quite get the hang of his rhythm. Watching from the staircase above, Madge gets in touch with Hal's dance and seizes the opportunity to horn-in on her little sister's date. Naturally Hal and Madge work their beautiful bods in perfect harmony. They share a sensuous dance to "Moonglow" and the hearts of women everywhere begin to melt. (Footnote: William Holden hated dancing and demanded $8000 "stunt" pay to perform this scene, thinking that would get him off the hook. The studio paid it and the rest is history: the scene instantly became a romantic classic and "Moonglow" rocketed to the top of the charts that year.) The locals aren't too happy about it, though. Millie, annoyed that her sister has cut-in on her action and once again stolen the spotlight, is pissed. Finding Howard Bevans' whiskey bottle she quickly drowns her underage sorrows. Mrs. Owens isn't too thrilled to see Madge eschewing rich Alan for a homeless man. Mrs. Potts thinks it's pretty hot, though. And so does Rosemary Sydney, who is getting all hot & bothered watching Hal work it on the dance floor. And it seems Hal's got a little something for everyone... except Rosemary. In a jovial moment, Hal even takes Howard into his arms for a little dance.

This is where the shit hits the fan.

In a jealous fit, perhaps fueled by homophobia, Rosemary puts an abrupt end to their dancing. She tries to lighten the mood with her drunken rambling. She pulls up Hal's pants, demanding to see his bare legs. Hal objects, she persists. Wedging herself into Hal's arms Rosemary lets her hands wander, and tells Hal that he looks like a statue or a Roman gladiator. She gets increasingly aggressive. Howard demands that Rosemary stop molesting Hal. In a lustful fit Rosemary tears off Hal's shirt. Hal looks victimized and ready to cry. Suddenly Millie appears, announcing that she's drunk then vomits on the spot. Alan arrives and demands to know that's going on. Half-naked Hal is too distraught to speak. Rosemary launches into a tirade equivalent to "he was asking for it" and hurls the blame for Millie's drunkenness and pretty much everything else on Hal because he's so good looking and thinks he's cock of the walk, so to speak. Effectively, it's his fault because he was "dressed provocatively", I guess. Eager to hear all the dirty details the townsfolk shine a spotlight on half-naked Hal and the whole sordid scene. Shamed and humiliated Hal runs off. Madge follows.

One interesting thing about "Picnic" is that it takes a lot of our common gender stereotypes and stands them on their head. If the tables were turned, and the genders in this film were reversed, Hal Carter could easily be a Marilyn Monroe sex-bomb type, or even a little Lolita. Consider what we would generally we think of the naive young ingenue; a vulnerable young female, usually either vacantly unaware of her power over the opposite sex and suffering unwanted attention, or otherwise as calculating and manipulative, exploiting her own feminine wiles for power or gain. Here it is Hal who takes the role of the ingenue, seemingly a victim of his own sexual magnetism. After seeing the sexual harassment he suffers from Rosemary Sydney we begin to see Hal as something of a victim of his own carnality. Suddenly that outrageous tale of the "Thelma & Louise" thieves in the sports car doesn't seem so preposterous. Of course, Hal is a bit dim-witted, but we begin to question his motives: Is he a drifter because he's a manipulative gigolo? Or is he a victim of the judgements people make about him based on his appearance? Is he the victim of his own sexy pheromones who was brought to ruin by a lifetime of exploitation and abuse? That's open to interpretation, I think. And returning to the point of gender-role reversals, have you noticed that the sexual aggressors in this film are the women, most notably Rosemary Sydney? Her outburst at the dance is an easy metaphor for sexual assault. Which, I should point out, I'm in no way taking lightly. I'm just pointing out the parallels: If it was an older man making unwelcome sexual advances on a young girl and tearing her shirt off we'd have a very different movie! It would be an interesting experiment to consider "Picnic" if all the characters were cast in the opposite sex. I think it would play out just as well, requiring only minor revisions. For example, instead of Queen of Neewollah make "Madge" a quarterback. See how easy it is? Another important point to consider about "Picnic" is the sexual themes. Remember, this is an American mainstream movie made in 1955. It seems in our post-modern age we are quick to view the past through the rose-tinted glasses of prudery. As my husband so wisely remarked, "each generation likes to think they invented sex." Of course, people have been writing about sex forever. Still, it feels unique that a movie made in the place and time that it was deals so openly with female sexuality and gender issues. Really, you have to give this movie props for that.

Next time: The stunning conclusion (I promise!)

A "Shameless" Plug

Do you remember the heyday of the "after school special"? Or when there was "a very special episode" of your favourite sitcom, usually in 2 parts? When shows opened with a stern disclaimer, reminding you to ask your parents' permission before watching that episode of Diff'rent Strokes where Arnold's buddy Dudley played "naked movie star" with the creepy old bicycle shop keeper? That's how they dealt with "important issues" for kids in my day.

We sure didn't have something like Shameless back then!

According to the by-line on the cover, Shameless is "for girls who get it". The editorial description calls itself "a progressive magazine for teenage girls". About a hundred years ago, when I was in that target demographic, I had a subscription to "Young Miss" (or, YM if you're nasty!). I recall one YM article that explained that if you were really into Simply Red then your best fashion style was probably a tartan mini-skirt and blazer. In my initial flip through issue 13 of Shameless my eyes fell on a brief article about the "Gulabi Gang" of northern India: female vigilantes dressed in hot pink saris carrying lathis (an Indian self-defense weapon). Banding together by the hundreds, the Gulabi Gang have halted child marriages, intervened in domestic abuse, hijacked trucks carrying stolen crops and rushed corrupt police station. Wow -- now that's making a fashion statement!

Shameless includes all of the standard features you'd expect in a "chick mag": relationship advice column; articles about body image; book, comic, blog and music reviews. There's even a DIY tip on how to cut your own hair. There's also pieces on cool careers, overseas volunteering and an article about the importance of campus radio (yay!). Of course, there are strong feminist overtone throughout all of this -- and in this era of "stupid girls" that's a good thing!

The magazine is all black & white, peppered with hip "indie" style comic art and illustrations lending it a cool underground vibe. No topic seems to be taboo either: lesbians, menstruation, itty-bitty-titties, hip hop, politics, poetry. There's even a brief interview with Toronto performance artist Jess Dobkin on her vagina dentata ("toothed vagina"); a follow-up to her "Lactation Milk Bar" in which she invited people to taste the breast milk from different women.

Obviously, not everything within these pages was my "cup of tea" BUT reading it did teach me a few things I didn't know, it was presented in a cool and appealing style and it held my interest. And considering I'm old enough to be a mother to its target audience that's pretty impressive. (Gah! Did I just say that?) Certainly no patronizing fluff pieces here. Let's say that for the next gen, Shameless is "a very special" magazine.

Thank you for not smoking

I have a confession to make:

In my teens and twenties I was a social smoker.

My best friend at the time was a smoker. You'd have to know him but suffice to say he was a real character. He was a prickly guy with a real sassy mouth, a cocky attitude and was surprisingly stronger than he looked. He would do pretty much anything if it was offensive or pissed people off. He was the type of guy who loved to argue and was perpetually in fist fights. Since I could be equally contemptuous (minus the fist fighting) we got along famously and I was kind of what you'd call his "wing man". So like all good young rebels somewhere along the way he started smoking. It was a natural progression for him. Hell, is there any photo of James Dean in existence where he doesn't have a cigarette dangling from his gorgeous teenage pout?

Of course, it was a different world we lived in back then and although we all knew smoking was "bad", cigarettes were still cheap & readily available. Smoking had a sexy, rebellious and grown-up appeal. There was just something so rock & roll about the act of smoking: the squint you make when you light it and take a drag. The nonchalant way you could hold it in your hand, casually waving it around as you speak that would suddenly make you look more world-weary and intelligent, like an old school artist or poet.

So when my buddy took up cigarettes he supplied them to me. I always got them for free. My preferred brand was Camels because they weren't the ones you'd commonly see the other kids smoking and they had a harsh, distinctive smell. Or sometimes I'd get Matinees because that's what I noticed my history teacher smoked. Anyway, since my friend supplied them I really only ever smoked while we were together. In those days I had different pockets of friends (school friends and neighbourhood friends) that didn't mix so some things were acceptable to do with some but not others. I never got "hooked" on cigarettes. Honestly, I never experienced a "buzz" off them. I really just did it for appearances. It was never a habit with me, just something I occasionally did to cop an attitude.

Later on, in university, I had another friend who was a "social smoker". For her it was drinking that caused her to smoke. There was something about having a beer in her hand that made her crave cigarettes. By this time I'd pretty much lost touch with that high school buddy so I rarely ever smoked anymore. I do have a wonderful memory of one night the summer that I graduated from university, though: me and 2 other girls were at this beautiful big house out in the country. The three of us were sitting on the deck in the backyard, looking up at the huge night sky, looking at the stars, chatting about nothing in particular. But it was a hot summer night, we were all moving on to new chapters in our lives and we were filled with hope and anticipation for the future. Just three friends having a moment... and beer... and cigarettes.

The world we're living in today has changed. As the slogan they used in Virginia Slims ads said "You've come a long way, baby". Sure, Humphrey Bogart made cigarettes look cool -- of course, Bogie also died of cancer of the esophagus. People just didn't know then what we do now. In those days, smoking was a rite of passage into adulthood. Now smoking is just a badge of ignorance. With all the health information that's available today there's little excuse to keep up this habit. And with inflated prices and severe limits on places where you're allowed to smoke, I'm amazed that anyone continues to do this.

Now, my exposure to cigarettes is extremely limited. Whenever I am around smokers I find the smell sickening and offensive. Maybe because I'm rarely around it now but my sensitivity to tobacco smell is much more acute: the worst is sharing an elevator with someone returning from a smoke break. More to it, my mind attaches a stigma to smokers. I just think it's trashy. Sure, if you're in a 1940s Noir movie it looked cool. If you're shivering in the alley sucking on a cancer stick today you're just tacky. And yes, people in the glamorous days-gone-by smoked a lot. They also had unprotected sex. It's a different world we're living in, even within my lifetime.

So I've openly admitted to the mistakes of my youth. Youth of today have no excuses. If you're under 30 and you smoke, you're an idiot. And when I stand at the bus stop every day the teenagers seem to be the biggest population of smokers. (Just an aside: Equally repugnant, smoking seems to accompany spitting these days. The sidewalks uptown are splattered with spit. It's worse than pigeon droppings. If your habit fills your sinuses and throats with that much mucus, take that as a sign there's something wrong!) Kids today really have to go out of their way to even find cigarettes, they're harder to buy and certainly more expensive, and the health warnings are clearly labelled on the packaging. You can't tell me there's anyone in the western hemisphere who isn't aware of the risks. Sure, all kids make mistakes, that's how we grow. It's just part of being human. Just try to choose your vices better -- at least then you can feel a little smug about being smarter than your parents' generation. If you're an older person you can at least plead ignorance for your poor choices but it's time to get in tune with the world you're living in today. Step into the 21st century. Smoking is so passe.