{w} MONEY

SPRING 2013

MONEY

Photo: Benjamin Von Wong Models: Tatianna, Inna B. from Yuli model agency Makeup/Hair : Omai Sherit Clothing: Ayelet Rabinovitch

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Diabolique

It was raining. Dad’s thick fingers were wrapped around mine and he was tugging, trying to get me to go faster.

We were late, as usual. Dad always used more time than he had, so at the end of the day he had to catch up to the hours that had passed him by. He lived by the theory of relativity: time is slowed when going faster.

When it rains, Manhattan puts on its camouflage: grey streets, charcoal pavement and smog-powdered buildings. Dad stopped suddenly. He had spotted a few soggy bills that clung to the sidewalk. He called out to the man walking ahead of us.“Excuse me, sir! SIR!” The man ignored him. New Yorkers have learned to rein in their reflexes. We picked up the paper-mache bills. I don’t remember if we bought anything with those twenties, just that we hung them up to dry when we got home.

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“Eighty dollars!” he told Mom. “Can you believe our luck? And the man in front of us just walked by them!”

Translation: Who in their right mind would turn down free money?

Growing up, I never worried about money. Mom said school was the most important thing; it was my job. I never babysat and got halfway through college without waiting tables (my first and only waitressing job lasted five weeks). My parents weren’t wealthy; almost all of Mom’s salary went to pay the rent. But money flowed from my parents to me and in exchange I excelled in whatever they decided to sign me up for: ballet, swimming, flute, gymnastics, guitar, rock-climbing, etc.

In our household, money was spent on experiences. Dad would bring home furniture he found on the street then wash it, fix it, and sit in it. But he splurged on Haagen Daaz, refusing to buy those tubs of synthetic ice cream:

“it tastes better,” he would say.

While I didn’t realize at the time, I have come to understand that the value of everything my parents asked me to do was intrinsic: the grace of dancing, the melody of the flute and the aches of climbing. I knew the value of some jobs lay in being well paid: your time in exchange for money. To me, it’s like prostitution: doing something that had no inherent value solely to get paid.

After graduation, a masters was my way of subverting the need to sell my energy, brain, time and self. I read academic papers, conducted experiments, attended conferences and exchanged ideas with other scientists.

I spent two years satiating my intellectual curiosity and was well paid by my supervisor for it.

But then I started a second graduate degree and no one was paying me for that. Dad agreed to cover the

basics — shelter, food, school supplies — but his list didn’t include dance classes like when I was little. But I needed my classes: who was I if not doing multiple things at once?

I don’t remember how the idea came to me or how I found the site that became my new ‘job’. I only remember thinking that it was the job with the lowest time to money ratio. A few hours here and there lounging half naked in front of my computer, some make-up, some toys. I chose when to work and for how long. I was my own boss.You call it prostitution? All jobs are a form of prostitution.

I’m on lock-down: twenty-seven and living with my dad again as I complete a ”we pay a stipend” internship.

And now I’m eating my stepmother’s food. Your typical iGeneration limbo.

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“I don’t care what kind of job it is. The job situation is bad so you can’t be picky.”

If I want to live under the same roof, I’m required to come straight home after ‘work’, sit in front of a computer and job hunt. I pretend to search. I use my stipend to take dance lessons.

“Your life philosophy is shit.” Dad’s opener to our heartto-heart.

“You live on the $200 you have today. You have no plans for a steady job with health benefits. Don’t you understand!? The world runs on money and you have to play by the rules.”

Dad didn’t teach me the rules before. Maybe he thought I’d figure them out.

Social scientists have observed that once the basics are

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met – food, clothing, shelter – having more money doesn’t make you happier. They also found that experiences are more satisfying than material goods. No matter how bad they appear in the moment, experiences get rosier with time: unlike an iphone there’s no need for an upgrade.

Think back to your childhood.

Experiences create the self. You’re more likely to tell your friends about whether your camping trip was smooth or filled with mosquito bites and sprained ankles than about the fancy goretex you wore. Hikes are fodder for good stories; goretex is not. Unlike what we own, what we do creates the framework upon which we hang our lives.

Dad made a lot of trips to the mountains when he was younger. His stories are about frozen moustaches, snow-buried tents, and shit-covered toilet paper pried

loose by the wind, swirling above him as he fought exhaustion and cold.

“With the altitude sickness I had no appetite, I survived those ascents on tea and saltines,” he would tell me.

“Oh, and we wore wool and leather. Back then fancy synthetic materials were too expensive.”

As a scientist, Dad liked testing limits. He pushed himself—and others—and the mountains provided the right environment. Once he and his partner almost fell into a crevasse: Dad had pushed his partner past his limits.

Likewise, he taught me to keep pushing myself until I’ve squeezed out the last drop of experience, until I collapse from experience, my body buzzing with it. I’ve stayed true to that lesson: 11-hour climbs in Mexico, all-nighter tango marathons…in stilettoes, jogs with the sting of a

fractured rib. Now I have my own stories.

I didn’t believe in the tooth fairy but when my first tooth came out, Mom supplied a more ecologically sound alternative. She told me that mice collect objects and are especially fond of human teeth. If I left mine under the bed, a mouse will trade it for coins. This made more sense to my seven-year-old self than the story of a tiny magical woman who was in charge of collecting all the world’s teeth. I looked under my bed the next morning and immediately ran to Mom with an accusation: “You put those coins under my bed!”

How did I know? I saw eight quarters perfectly piled. I knew no mouse had the dexterity – or height – to perform such a feat. So no magical woman and no bartering mouse. The source of my wealth was Mom and Dad. It still is.

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EDITOR'S LETTER

It was inevitable from the moment the case first entered the media that the public would be fascinated by Lola v Eric, otherwise dubbed as the Teenage Model v the Billionaire Businessman.

This is not least because the saga has all the makings of a soap: a young exotic Latina, whisked away from the ravages of Brazilian poverty by a portentous Quebec steel magnate. Throw in the orgies, the jet-setting, an interventionist mother (‘e vill never marry ‘er!’), the judicial brouhaha and, of course, the astronomical riches and we can be sure the film is in post-production. But that’s not all there is to it.

Of crucial appeal is that the story invites all kinds of people to project their prejudicial views about the world, safe in the knowledge that a sealed court record ensures all speculation, no matter how stereotypical, offensive or just plain stupid, will have its day in the sun. Even her christening as Lola – a not-too-subtle play on Nabakov’s Lolita – immediately reduces the petitioner to a kind of confused nymphet, a jilted lover cross at being cast aside and eager to make him pay, literally and metaphorically.

Couples, whether formalised or not, are presumably denoted by certain key characteristics; compassion and mutual care come to mind.

Sadly, when a relationship ends, these are often swapped with antagonism and vindictiveness. If one partner happens to have been disadvantaged

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(or privileged) economically in the relationship – almost always along gendered lines – these new feelings play out in less-than balanced settlements.

Enter the law to ensure that societal expectations and equity prevail. Alas, in this instance, the law was used specifically to avoid both.

Whatever the reality for Lola and Eric, individual views about the fairness of the outcome will depend on whether the holder believes that both parties to a couple should be treated equally after-the-fact.

For most, when it comes to access to children or the family home, 50-50 is the preferred split.

When it comes to money, however, the ability of modern society to succumb to baseless prejudices – she’s a gold-digging whore and he’s a captain of enterprise – appears infinite.

While prejudice posing as reasoned conviction may be common fodder for mainstream media and occasionally the Supreme Court (oh no he didn’t!), at the {w} we jive to the rhythm of our own bass.

So for those looking to hear that wealth is good (or bad), that capitalism (or socialism) is right (or wrong), that Lola (or Eric) got what they deserve, please gently return this magazine to its stand and reach out to the competition.

For the brave few willing to engage the world beyond the Benjamins, we present to you the {money} issue.

- Mohsen al Attar

IN THIS ISSUE

SPRING 2013

THE ARTS

Foreign Affairs

08 14 30 47

10 50

Milton Rogovin Mikko Puttonen Julia Ziegler-Haynes

A Living Wage by Cheri Di Novo Once Upon a Time in a Not So Distant Future by M. Lavergne

Aris Moore

{a} WAREHOUSE

SPORTS

06 Editor's Letter 62 The Community

38

The Beautiful Game by Seb di Poi

POPPING CULTURE 02 15 19 23 26 42 54 58

Eighty Dollars by Diabolique Cash Junkies by Jessica Sudbury Gross National Happiness by Elysse M. Presant Shell Game by Reuben Cox Rebel Report by Rodney Ramsey The Economies of Burlesque by MDC Merchandising the Past by Bill Panara Our Doctor’s Change by Kondwani Mwase

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Milton Rogovin

Untitled Appalachia aeries 1962-1987 Photographs by Milton Rogovin (1911-2011) Courtesy Center for Creative Photography, University of Arizona Foundation

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A

LIVING

WAGE

BACK IN 2006, when I was a newly elected Member of the Ontario Provincial Parliament I decided the first bill I would table should be the $10.00/hr Minimum Wage Bill. At the time, minimum wage was $8.00/hr, well below any real poverty line. Instinct told me the time was fortuitous. Seven years later – and still an MPP – I know my instincts were spot on: the Bill became a campaign and eventually policy. Why? First, my late campaign manager – Julius Deutsch – arguably one of Canada’s foremost left strategists, got that rare twinkle in his eye when I reported what I’d done. As executive assistant to John Cartwright, head of Toronto and York Labour Council, he knew this was an issue organized labour would get behind.

A living wage speaks not just to union members – there were many who made less than $10.00/hr – but to many who

Cheri DiNovo, MPP Parkdale-High Park, on how we can raise the minimum wage

didn’t enjoy union representation and wondered if unions really spoke their language. Julius was right as the Ontario Federation of Labour and almost all unions in Ontario made the campaign theirs. Labour Day that year had as its theme the $10.00/hr campaign.

Second, it was populist as raising minimum wage was not just in the interest of the left. I became a frequent visitor to right wing talk shows not known to focus on employment standards, but whose listenership was composed of many on minimum wage, and the response was overwhelmingly positive. Everyone seemed to understand that paying someone below the poverty line for full time work wasn’t ethical. After all, it was the right that wanted everyone off social assistance and into the workforce.

Was it fair that once there they still needed to use food banks? eleven

DID THE $10.00/HR CAMPAIGN PRODUCE what was necessary? Yes and, unsurprisingly, no.

Third, the press was on our side. The Toronto Star made it a main ask of their Liberal friends in provincial government and neither the Sun nor the Globe and Mail sided against it (though many articles were written claiming the hike would destroy the economy!). Again, many readers were affected. We even received support from small business owners who, more than their competitors in the malls, were mainly paying $10.00/ hr already to attract employees.

Yes, because for the first time in a long while populism joined forces with a progressive cause and produced measureable results, including a 28% raise to a million workers in Ontario.

Amazingly, the catalyst was a third party bill in a majority legislature proving that, with public support, opposition bills can gain traction and carry the day despite resistance of the governing party. It also showed that unions can speak for the non- unionized, putting a communitarian face on unionization and inspiring even those in the working majority who had veered to the conservatives. The success also bore witness that status quo economists were wrong. Wages for the working poor can be improved without negatively affecting the economy.

Ironically, the ensuing recession appears to have been triggered by the ‘maximum’ wage earners.

And no, because those who toil at minimum wage, even at $10.25/hour, do not receive a living wage and are Fourth, it had already proven to be a still well below the poverty line when politically potent idea when the New rent, food costs and child care are Democratic Party won a by-election in factored in. If you think about it, if York South Weston, a mainly working increasing the minimum wage requires class riding, partly for ‘being the party of a province-wide campaign, thousands the $10.00/hr Minimum Wage Bill’. The of hours and dollars, and through Ontario Liberal cabinet was forced to yearly increments (to keep pace with react, tabling their own government Bill inflation), you can bet it won’t happen for increments leading up to $10.25/hr. again any time soon. There has to be a better way.

We won. Or did we? twelve

So here, in my humble and tired opinion, is the way forward for the working poor and those who purport to give them a voice in government. In Ontario and other provinces, there are a few core legislative necessities that would make a difference in employment standards and in lives, with a living wage as the end game.

First, we must implement legislative change that makes unionization not only possible, but probable. That Sweden enjoys an 85% unionization rate confirms that a vibrant economy can co-exist alongside decent wages.

In Canada, we need: card check certification so workers can vote for a union without recrimination, antiscab legislation to prevent employers from firing unionized employees and, ultimately, sectoral membership so that unions don’t have to organize location by location. Sweden and other countries have established that the more workplaces are unionized, the less we need worry about a living

wage (even McDonald’s workers are unionized in Sweden!).

Second, a legislative formula should be devised that ensures the minimum wage keeps apace with the economy. We must guarantee that anyone working full time is above the poverty line so that working is not only desirable but also affordable.

Rather than leave wages solely to employers, those earning minimum wage, who know how much it costs to pay for necessities and still have something left over at the end of the month, should be involved in drafting the formula.

Ultimately, poverty costs everyone and employers who pay poverty wages are rewarded by a government – and by taxpayers – who pay for health care, the justice system and social assistance. In Ontario, these costs are estimated at $30 billion / year.

Once a living wage is implemented, we could begin to foresee a poverty free tomorrow.

Mikko Puttonen Pictureputtonen.blogspot.com

CASH JUNKIES ANONYMOUS JESSICA R. SUDBURY ART BY STEVEN KETCHUM fifteen

can bring about responses not unlike your Breaking Bad pick-me-ups, be it drugs, sex, food or narcotics. We all possess the innate capacity to become voracious cash junkies trawling around for the next fix, cue the casino, online stock market, or man-cave on poker night.

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ith pounding heart and dilated eyes, he studies the contents of his hand and reaches for another hit.

Sweat blurs his vision as he brings the object into view, prompting a sigh of unbridled elation. Relief morphs into euphoria as a surge of energy courses through his body – he is at ease again.

But it will only last for so long before he needs another taste…

It’s hard to put a finger on just what this scene describes; it might narrate many situations geared toward achieving a high.

We engage in extreme and often destructive actions to drive up the levels of particular chemicals manufactured by our brains but powders and pills aren’t the only way to nirvana.

Ever felt the rush of spotting a stray twenty on the sidewalk?

While money itself is nothing more than cotton-reinforced paper or a figure on your bank statement, the value it symbolises sixteen

Fact: anticipating a cash reward and the associated high from winning combine to activate the same neurological pathways as any common indulgence.

Pared down to its underclothes, the brain’s reward system centres on the neurotransmitter dopamine (‘brain dope’).

Dopamine-producing neurons in the brainstem’s ventral tegmental area send nerve endings through the brain’s mesolimbic pathway to release their precious cargo onto receptive neurons in the nucleus accumbens and prefrontal cortex.

A hit of dopamine in these areas leads to pleasurable feelings, urging the thrillseeker to repeat the behaviour that led to this satisfying state.

An accompanying endorphin surge into the blood stream further strengthens the urge to repeat the trigger behaviour, as it elevates the body to a pain-numbing euphoric high.

With time, however, tolerance

develops and higher amounts of brain dope are needed to achieve satisfaction. To avoid withdrawal symptoms – from lowered levels of dopamine – dope-inducing behaviour continues simply to maintain normalcy. And voilà: an addiction is born!

By toying with this system, essentially any stimulus evoking this natural high is potentially addictive – and cold hard cash is no exception. Proven through the use of functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) brain scans, brain reward pathways light up when a person anticipates a monetary reward. Neurologically speaking then, money can act as a drug (as evidenced) daily by New York’s Wall Street.

The desire for money can produce the same symptoms experienced by any common drug addict – cravings, highs, lows, anxiety, withdrawal – just as lack thereof triggers the archetypal bad druggie behaviour – binging, stealing, lying, denial. Recall, for

instance, the profound deceit and denial that fueled Bernie Madoff’s Ponzi scheme.

Yet, despite the bad behaviour that goes hand-in-hand with substance abuse, society tolerates and condones a few prized addictions. Anti-smoking campaigns notwithstanding, witness the government’s need for tobacco revenue: nicotine addiction may wreak havoc on our healthcare system but it also brings in a fair bit of coin. Bars are built to fuel the alcoholic’s habit and raves to accommodate ecstasy poppers. Coin junkies find solace in casinos where they can be observed squandering education funds over a round of roulette and a hit of dopamine.

Actually, cash-addiction has prompted a reclassification of gambling under the new category “Addiction and Related Disorders” in the upcoming American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

The rationale behind the shift stems from scientific research showing a solid neurological and behavioural link between pathological gambling and other addictions.

Money abuse, we quickly learn, leads to the same sad results that any old fashioned drug seventeen

addiction causes – debt, bankruptcy, homelessness, prison, social isolation and so on. Thankfully, however, like most addictions, help is available.

It can be found in the form of 12-step programs modelled after Alcoholics Anonymous to ‘redirect’ the addicted brain away from compulsive thoughts causing uncontrolled gambling or financial risk-taking. Money addicts are advised to change their lifestyle and avoid tempting paraphernalia that might bring on another binge – cut credit cards, steer clear of casinos, and designate a co-signer for accounts.

And now for the bad news: the tricky thing about cash addiction is that unlike other sinful – but legal – substances, money can’t be outlawed. Just as we continue to copiously supply tobacco, prescription drugs and alcohol to their respective addicts, the coin junkie must face their demons daily. So what to do to prevent the onslaught of greedy politicians, risk-loving brokers, gamblers and fraudsters alike? Perhaps introducing a new compulsory class at high school – Greed 101 – to raise awareness of our vulnerability to brain dope.

In the process, we might even contribute to preventing the next recession…{w} eighteen

e.M. PresAnt

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Anne Leonard is the entrepreneur of the future. Curiously, she makes her living by reducing the amount of money people spend, and in the midst of a failing economy and a faltering way of life, it seems to be working.

In her fascinating and inspiring video short – The Story of Stuff – Leonard illustrates the ways in which our society is stuck in a ‘liveto-work’ mentality that is neither sustainable nor healthy.

discussions of the current economic situation.

Despite a sinking popular morale that’s become the hot topic of everything from cinema to rock music, governments seem determined to keep this system afloat showing nary a sign of any re-evaluation. Reasons for this are numerous and debatable, but perhaps the most reasonable is that many aspects of personal well-being don’t enter the evaluation of our standard of living.

In the immediate post-war era, little attention was given to where the highly successful consumer economy would end up in a few decades’ time. More than any industrialera generation before, the baby boomers enjoyed a greater disposable income and a greater amount of leisure time to spend it in. To the politicians and corporations, mass public consumption necessarily compelled higher levels of production. The resultant cycle would ensure a high quality of life for everyone involved; life was good and the future bright.

Determination of the gross domestic product (GDP) is the backbone of this evaluation system, and it might not surprise you to learn that it has everything to do with economics and very little to do with quality of life. Very simply put, the GDP measures the market value of goods and services produced by a country which should, ideally, be equal to the gross domestic income (GDI). Standard of living is then calculated based on the balance or gap between the two.

But what Leonard points out is that over half a century later, it’s not just money that’s been coming in: it’s also debt, fatigue, stress, and a coping mechanism of consumerism that threatens both the environment and the underdeveloped nations.

And hers is a point not often raised in

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Strangely, this equation does not take into account aspects that many consider fundamental to a healthy and happy existence, such as the amount of time spent with loved ones, quantity and quality of sleep and food, or access to health care. So why aren’t these things given priority in conjunction with economic prosperity? Aren’t they important too? The answer from a growing number of countries is yes.

In contrast to GDP, the gross national happiness (GNH) index is the first international survey to consider social markers of well-being in estimations of standard of living. The GNH was a concept introduced by Bhutan’s King Jigme Singye Wangchuck when commenting on the country’s low GDP in the 1970s. The Buddhist king’s unruffled proclamation was that “gross national happiness [was] more important than gross domestic product.” The sentiment was strikingly honest and instantly made its way around the world’s media, acting as a catalyst for criticisms of the conventional economic model of the developed nations.

In the following years, the Centre for Bhutan Studies pieced together a survey that would factor in elements left out of the GDP. In their version, the Centre looked at issues in health, quality of environment and personal fulfillment to determine how a nation rated on the happiness scale. Not long after, two Canadians joined forces with the Centre, making valuable adjustments to the index so that it could be used internationally. The final product was a tool that could be applied by governments around the world to assess just how well citizens were faring and where exactly they had room for improvement.

After a couple of runs of the survey, it became evident that a country’s economic strength and vitality were not always indicative of its

citizens’ well-being. In fact, Bhutan itself scored consistently low on the GDP yet high on the GNH, while numerous developed nations scored inversely. The results were in and King Jigme appeared to be on the money.

Fast forward to the 21st century, and with uncertainty looming around every corner, governments in Scandinavia and Latin America have begun to give more than a little attention to political agendas that don’t simply focus on economic productivity. And though critics of the GNH point out the statistical problems inherent in trying to evaluate something as subjective as happiness, proponents like Leonard are citing the results of the index as evidence for change. In a global economic climate that seems to be growing ever more desperate, it’s tantalizing to imagine what would happen if as much effort went into boosting the GNH as goes into the GDP. At the very least we might start by taking cues from Jigme and Leonard and educating ourselves on how participation in an economic system has a very direct impact on personal health and well-being.

Indeed, perhaps instead of waiting on the revitalization of a dying system, it would be more beneficial to reinvent it. In doing so, it is possible to sidestep a way of life that would see us tired, unhappy, and spiritually unfulfilled for years to come. {w}

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The streets are full of dust and ashes. Shutterless buildings claw at the sky like so many bleached bones.

Tendrils of wind-blown sand coil through empty gardens. The desert tightens its grip.

I remember a late evening in the back room of my uncle’s workshop. The trader, with skin like cracked bark and blue eyes sparkling between the folds of his keffiyeh, laughing like a rattle of stones as a handful of cowry was tossed across the table. As a boy I had never seen such wealth! My uncle feigned nonchalance, but I could see the tremor of his hand and feel his exhilaration.

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The city was scarcely worth the description, then.

Far from the sea, a huddle of mud brick and sandstone slouched against the edge of the desert, existing solely because of the good farmland bordering the river. Grains and vegetables grew in abundance, and the river yielded fish, fowl and a little shellfish. My father raised goats that I would tend when I was not learning my uncle’s trade.

It is a long process, making the best cloth. The tall flax plants with their pale blue flowers must be cut and dried, then immersed in the slow-moving river water for a week or two, then dried for months and immersed again. Too short a soak will give you cloth that is rough and uncomfortable; too long will render the flax weak and useless. Next, it must be scraped and split and spun before it is finally woven and dyed. It is an art, and my uncle was truly an artist. The best cloth takes colour very well, and even though the city was not as large or as wealthy as others, we thought ourselves the best dressed!

Before the traders came, business was often done on a man’s word, for what man would be foolish enough to break his word? But a man’s word is as light as air when weighed against hard cowry.

Their money brought us fine pottery, new spices and precious metals. And, from everywhere, it also brought us people.

I remember a market heaving with people, a fluttering patchwork of coloured stalls. Traders vied for the ear of the crowd in half a dozen languages: tools and wine and clothing and everything imaginable for a price. And the food! Hot and spicy. and never the same twice! The streets were alive with music and colour, and it seemed every week another family or group of labourers would arrive.

And so the city – and my uncle’s trade – grew. More and more of our farmland was filled with pale blue flowers at harvest time, and we built out into the desert, the better to conserve space for our crops.

New houses were everywhere. Most were small and crude – the dwellings of field-workers and

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weavers and all the other little trades that clustered around the flax industry. But some were huge, with courtyards, gardens and many servants.

My uncle aspired to one of the big houses, but though his cloth was some of the best, real wealth was always held by the land owners, merchants and priests. It seemed as though every year the market lords would raise their fees, or there would be a new temple levy. Still, we did well from the extra trade, and before my uncle departed the world I had a young wife and a house of my own.

I remember the first time the harvest failed. We had sufficient stores of flax straw to tide us through a bad year, but food became very expensive at the market. The river was fished clean, and many goats had to be slaughtered. Then the crops were good again, and my wife bore me a healthy son.

to be claimed by squatters. In another month a second departed, and then another, and suddenly they were almost all gone. So much of the wealth of the city went with them. Times were hard.

Only one corner of the market remained in use, and I went hungry for the first time since my childhood.

We discussed leaving the city, but my wife and I decided to remain. A single good season was all we needed, and surely one would come soon. We slept and fasted and hoped. The months passed slowly, and more and more of our friends moved on. My hesitation seems so foolish to me now.

I remember the night they came across the desert.

Much of the city guard had left with the retinue of the merchants and landowners, and those that remained were simply too few. I remember the thunder of hooves, the crash of weapons, the fire.

I remember my young son’s scream as they gutted him, and the heat of the fire as I fought to get to my wife. I remember the taste of blood and the sharp sting of the embers that burned through my clothes.

I remember the sword, curved and bright, and the dark face of the man who took my eyes.

With a few good seasons the merchants raised their rates, and the land owners were already charging so much that we were forced to plant two crops a year. The ground had little time to rest, and before long the harvest failed again. And again. The desert swallowed up the exhausted edges of our farmland, forcing us to rely more on less.

The number of beggars in the streets grew quickly.

Listless and sunken, their plaintive cries could be heard across the city. Like so many, my only concern was avoiding their fate, and I bargained hard in the half-empty marketplace with my dwindling stock.

So concerned was I with my own problems that I failed to notice the first departure from the city.

One of the big houses packed up and left, taking possessions and servants and leaving the house

I remember the clamour of the market, the firm hand of my uncle on my shoulder. We have stopped to watch a man crouched in the centre of a small crowd. A game is being played. A date stone darts across the mat, appearing and disappearing beneath three chipped cups. The small crowd chatters excitedly, and some take up the bet.

“See how they crowd around” my uncle says. The man’s hands are a blur. “They think they have discovered the secret. But look well, my boy; those cheering the loudest are risking nothing, and only the one who controls the game ever wins.” He chuckles. “And as for the rest; their blindness will be their undoing.”

I remember, but my memories grow faint.

The desert tightens its grip. {w}

twenty-five

The

Rebel Report APPLE This company has boldly changed the way we communicate and access information. Unfortunately, their Chinese factories are beset with such appalling conditions that workers attempt suicide on a frequent basis. But if that's the price so the world can have Angry Birds Star Wars edition, I can live with it!

Bhutan

Bhutan is the first country to adopt the 'Gross National Happiness' index. The GNH posits that a society should be measured not simply by its material indicators but by the health, education and overall contentment of its people. Imagine the USA replaced Wall Street with Joke Avenue, a centre where laughs, pranks and satire are traded. This is sure-fire recipe for a society with fewer invasions and more orgies (and where Trump might actually stand a chance of being elected).

Chad, Johnson This guy had a beautiful wife, great kids and a smokin’ football career. Then for some reason he changed his name to OchoCinco, the number of his football jersey, and after that everything fell apart. His wife left him, he was cut from his football team and he was recently in court for late child support payments. I hear OchoCinco is soon to be Arby's Gerant, in honour of his new position.

ELMO twenty-six

Disney

This mega company recently spent billions for the Star Wars franchise.

They now officially own the rights to most of our childhood memories.

One of the richest Muppeteers on Sesame Street has recently been charged with pedophilia. I can’t blame him; I'd probably become sexually confused too if I had a giant black man's hand up my ass for over a decade.

FENG, JIN

He divorced his wife for hiding her extensive plastic surgery and birthing an ugly baby. He also sued her for misrepresentation and won! So thus, in China, it’s legal to sue people for being ugly. That sounds like capitalism to me.

GOOGLE HULK HOGAN

Google is like God, but with answers.

The man defeated the Ultimate Warrior and body slammed Andre the Giant. Yet, he couldn't keep his wife from hooking up with a 19-year-old boy or stop his daughter from dropping the worst pop album in the history of crap music. Maybe he would have been happier as Hulk Hogan the guidance counselor.

INDIA India is like a Ghetto Inception. This country is one of few places you’ll find a slum within a slum within slum. Despite its substantial poverty, India is so rich in culture, Europeans travelled far and wide because it was rumored to possess some spices. However, when they landed on the wrong continent(s), they nearly wiped out every native population for looking kind of Indian. Now that’s rich.

King, Rodney Jesus Christ Not only was he the catalyst for one of the world's most popular religions, he's also inspired multiple blockbuster films and been the icon for expensive jewelry tailored and sold to gangsta rappers since the 90s. If Jesus comes back, he's going to be one rich Jew… or Christian. The dude’s got options!

He was compensated millions by the LAPD for police brutality. Sadly, he recently drowned in a motel pool without a penny to his name. Looks like the police also knocked all sense out of the man.

LANCE ARMSTRONG He was recently banned from professional cycling – after being stripped of all trophies and titles won during 14 years of competition – for using and distributing performance-enhancing drugs. This guy can’t even bike to the corner store to buy milk anymore. Lance should have heeded Biggie Smalls’ fourth crack commandment: never get high on your own supply.

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MOHAMMED MORSI He recently gained super villain status for giving himself sweeping powers over all of Egypt. It didn’t work for Loki in the Avengers movie and that dude was from space!

Nicholson, Jack He is rumored to have had over 5000 lovers.

Some guys have a problem getting it up while this dude can’t keep it down. Do they make a pill for that too? I f@$ing hope not.

Olympics SNIPES, WESLEY the

Every four years, records are broken in in inspiring fashion.

Which begs the question, is there any limit to human potential? If he starts training with Lance, the only way to see Usain next time will be in slow motion replay.

Prince

He made millions killing vampires in three consecutive films. The IRS, however, turned out to be a blood sucking, soulless demon even Blade couldn’t defeat and he’s now serving time for tax evasion. Watch out Blade! In jail, they won’t just stake you in the heart; they’ll put wood in your lalala.

Quantum Physics William

You’ve got to be a rich prince to get a girl that hot when you are that ugly. You know it’s true; the dude looks like Eeyore with slightly better teeth. Let’s hope his wife is pretty enough to wash out that classic British inbred look.

The science that deals with phenomena on a microscopic level has revealed the nature of the universe being infinitely random, and more mysterious then we could ever imagine. The praise is tactical. If I’m ever going to teleport in and out of Fort Knox, this is the science that will make it happen.

RUSSIA

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It is one of the richest countries in natural resources estimated at over $70 trillion. Ironically, they also have some of the poorest people on the planet.

Hey Mother Russia, maybe it’s time to let the people suckle off your oil rich teat. The Gross National Angriness is way up!

Twinkies Because the company that makes Twinkies is now bankrupt, many youngsters will never know the joys of being disgustingly obese. It’s a sad day for fat kids everywhere.

WASHI NGTON

Undertakers Ok they aren't rich but they'll never be out of a job.

The Vatican

This institution is not just rich spiritually, being worth more money then most nations. When a pope dies, he’s placed in a gold plated, climate controlled coffin. When I die, I just hope they find the body.

Washington is one of the first states where marijuana has become legal.

Nothing enriches a community like a bunch of blunt rolling, hacky sack kicking, hippies smoking herb in public parks. The increase of potato chips and Frisbee sales should jumpstart the American economy.

XBOX 360

Whenever I’m broke and unemployed, all I have to do is put on the Sims and I’ve got a job and family wainting for me. It may sound pathetic but you have no idea how hot my virtual wife is; she'll do things my real girl can’t even pronounce.

Youtube

48 hours of video are downloaded to YouTube daily.

Humans seem to possess an insatiable desire to showcase their talents, share knowledge and anonymously leave horribly racist comments.

ZU RICH Known for secure banks and beautiful scenery, the Swiss metropolis is so money, the word rich is cemented in the name.

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FEAUTURE ARTIST

TODAY’S SPECIAL

by Julia Ziegler-Haynes

JACKIE LEE WILLINGHAM - July 24, 2003 Fettuccine Alfredo, a small deep-dish pepperoni pizza, breadsticks and two Peppermint Patties.

Jackie Lee Willingham, 33, was executed by lethal injection on June 24, 2003 in McAlester, Oklahoma for the murder of a 62 year old woman. Willingham spent 8 years on death row.

PETER J. MINIEL - October 6, 2004 Twenty beef tacos, twenty beef enchiladas, two double cheeseburgers, a pizza with jalape単os, fried chicken, spaghetti with salt, a small fruit cake, half of a chocolate cake, half of a vanilla cake, cookiesn-cream ice cream, caramel pecan fudge ice cream, two Coca-Colas, two Pepsi-Colas, two root beers and two orange juices.

Peter J. Miniel, 42, was executed by lethal injection on October 6, 2004 in Huntsville, Texas for the murder of a 21 year old man. Miniel spent 16 years on death row.

LEWIS EUGENE GILBERT, II - July 1, 2003 A half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, a box of Whoppers and a box of assorted ice cream cones.

Lewis Eugene Gilbert, II, 31, was executed by lethal injection on June 1, 2003 in McAlester, Oklahoma for the murder of a 37 year old woman. Gilbert spent 7 years on death row.

HASTINGS ARTHUR WISE - November 4, 2005 A lobster tail, French fries, coleslaw, banana pudding and milk.

Hastings Arthur Wise, 51, was executed by lethal injection on November 4, 2005 in Columbia, South Carolina for the murders of a 27 year old woman, and three men ages 56, 30 and 31. Wise spent 4 years on death row.

JAMES REXFORD POWELL - October 1, 2002 One pot of coffee.

James Rexford Powell, 56, was executed by lethal injection on October 1, 2002 in Huntsville, Texas for the murder of a 10 year old girl. Powell spent 11 years on death row.

ROBERT ANTHONY BUELL - September 24, 2002 A single black, unpitted olive.

Robert Anthony Buell, 62, was executed by lethal injection on September 24, 2002 in Lucasville, Ohio for the murder of a 11 year old girl. Buell spent 8 years on death row.

The Beautiful Game sebastian Di Poi

Soccer (or football as it’s known to most) is the most popular sport in the world.

Being exceedingly simple to organisepeople, a field, a ball and random objects to create goalposts- and voila: a recipe for an international pastime. Love of soccer binds the world together, where social and class differences are neutralised, culminating in a quadrennial World Cup. In Europe and South America, professional soccer is by far the most followed sport.

Add the high number of clubs in Argentina, Brazil, England, France, Germany and Spain to tournaments that bring them all together – including the FIFA Club World Cup and Champions League – and the near fanatic following is hardly surprising. thirty-eight

What is surprising, however, is the United States’ position (or absence) in this regard.

Despite a large soccer program firmly entrenched among the country’s youth, the US lags behind.

Many factors explain the seeming mystery.

First, dominance in other sports, especially those that identify with American culturebaseball and American football- crowds out interest in others. Americans have been playing baseball for over a century and a half. Named the ‘national pastime’ since 1856, Major League Baseball has recruited players from across the world, offering the highest level of competition.

The same goes for American football,

which has steadily grown since 1920 (overtaking baseball in televised popularity in 1965). As the most attended domestic sports league in the world, the NFL is at the heart of American culture; Sunday is better known as ‘football day’ to many. In fact, American football has ingeniously implanted itself in several holidays in the USA. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and New Year’s all boast NFL matches, strategically (and successfully) scheduled to increase audiences. There seems to be little room in the American market for soccer.

Second, Americans appreciate sports that necessitate shorter attention spans (bring

on the Ritalin for those scoreless 45 minute halves!). Compared with soccer, American sports display more rapid events. On any given pitch in baseball, a batter may hit a homerun or force a defensive play that awes the crowd. From a numbers standpoint, football is generally a high-scoring affair, providing quick-developing action that keeps the audience enthralled in seesawlike stimulation. Soccer develops more slowly, requiring patience to effectively exploit opponents’ weaknesses. Patience is often manifested in low-scoring results (or worse, ties!), score lines that are frowned upon in American sports culture.

The nature of soccer is not appealing to fans who are thirty-nine

used to quick action that requires only attention from play to play, with breaks and pauses in between. Continual play leaves them bored and disengaged.

Lastly, Americans have simply not been as internationally competitive as their European and South American counterparts. This results in a lack of high-quality home-grown players who can move to other more popular leagues and return home with improved competence.

Similarly, there is a lack of young, skilled international players traveling to the US to play in the domestic league. What we often find are older, more recognizable players, recruited to the MLS in the late stages of their career to increase both popularity and marketability of the sport (see David Beckham). In World Cup action, the farthest an American team has made it was the quarterfinals in 2002, typically being dispatched in the round robin stage. The disinterest of Americans toward soccer at any other time than the World Cup exemplifies the lack of faith in domestic talent.

While Americans may not hold soccer in high regard today, the tide may be turning.

Globalisation has caused the general

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public to perceive professional soccer more favourably, triggering increased ticket sales and, in turn, further investment in the sport including the acquisition of more talent. Combined with migration from many soccer-loving countries and the accompanying amelioration in the quality of the sport domestically, and attitudes toward this sport have slowly begun to shift.

The American women’s team has had an impact as well. In contrast to the men, they are enjoying a remarkable run, never finishing worse than third in the World Cup since 1991, and winning two titles along the way. Whether male or female, success begets fame as evidenced by Canada’s stellar women’s team (robbed at the Olympics I might add). Finally, the addition of another team to the MLS – the Montreal Impact – further supports this upward trend. The love and support of professional soccer is more prevalent in Montreal than in any American city.

If we sum it up then, migrants, women and Canadians are transforming the American outlook toward the world’s most popular sport for the better. Quick, someone alert the Republicans! {w}

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From ta-ta tassels to income taxes

The Economics of Burlesque written by mdc {the forklift}

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Starving artist is a term used and misused by just about everyone.

Sometimes the implications are pejorative and at others romantic. Having been on the receiving end of both, I can’t tell you which is worse.

One instance that remains vivid even today is of a particularly vexing lady enlightening me that a ‘true’ artist struggled and starved until (at least) her forties before becoming a success— bonus points if the success is post mortem.

Rather than starve (or croak) their way to success, the gorgeous and voluptuous women of Montreal’s Burlesque scene are using confidence to move their careers forward.

Holly Gauthier-Frankel is a prime example of one of these daring dames. Gauthier-Frankel’s stage persona is Miss Sugarpuss: a doe-eyed, titillating and delectable star who has been dazzling audiences in the local burlesque scene since 2004.

She discovered burlesque in her twenties while working as a freelance actress and was immediately reminded of the strong female characters in the MGM musicals she adored as a youngster. And so her acting career carried on, only now featuring more shimmying!

Like all entrepreneurs, selfemployed artists must get creative with finances. Tax returns feature unconventional deductions like props, costumes and union dues that can be higher than one’s yearly wages (much to the accountant’s confusion). I asked Gauthier-Frankel whether burlesque artists face similar complications:

‘Burlesque is such a niche market, and though it’s trendy right now, it simply won’t yield the kind of money that you might expect doing professional unionized acting work or theatre.’

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Then there are the existential challenges. Professional artists in general inevitably face the commodification of art question: what happens to art when it doubles as livelihood? For burlesque performers, this tricky question is magnified by the fact that one’s own body becomes the product, which in turn raises the question of what it means to ‘sell yourself’.

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‘The mainstream media is creating a homogenization of what burlesque means and what it looks like. I strongly feel that neo-burlesque is a feminist art form, and that it involves empowerment and political statement…Other dancers feel that it is simply about glamour, and a look. I find it detrimental to be so narrow…because what ends up happening is…discrimination against dancers who are extremely unconventional in look, be it due to size, race, genderidentification, etc. If you…only show one type (thin, Caucasian) of woman (e.g. Dita Von Teese, who is a lovely performer and definitely hardworking), then there is going to be a big problem [for those who don’t fit the mould].’

Aside from the box office, the list of viable money-earning options for burlesque performers is impressively creative: making and selling costumes and accessories (like pasties and thongs) burlesque schools, private lessons, consulting and producing shows. Or you could produce a whole festival!

This is what entrepreneurial burlesque performer Scarlett James did when she established The Grand Burlesque Show, a yearly burlesque festival in Montreal. It was launched in 2009 at the Just for Laughs Museum and has been running strong since with the

next instalment due in March 2013.

The tone of our conversation is more business-oriented from the get-go. I can only gain access to the elusive Ms. James through her handler and I still don’t know the charming blonde’s real name—and neither will you! James prefers to keep an air of mystery around her brand. The alias is based on two classic characters: Scarlett O’Hara and James Bond.

James says the coupling reflects her personality: ‘As much as I’m an artist, I’m also a businessperson.’

James discovered Burlesque when she went to see a show with friends: ‘I saw a business opportunity. Montreal didn’t have anything like cabaret shows like in the old days.’ James is a self-described go-getter and even has her own issues with the term starving artist. ‘Some artists want to be starving’ she asserts, explaining that she spends a lot of time waiting on performers to send her their invoices: ‘I want to pay you! I am just

waiting to pay you!’ she exclaims with exasperation.

I follow up on this line of questioning with whether James believes there is a taboo around making money in the arts.

‘I’ve been called a sell-out. So, okay. I make money and I’m a sell-out? Is Guy Laliberté a sell-out too?...I think sometimes laziness and jealousy play a part [in people’s reactions] and some people just really don’t know how [to go into business].

I jumped right in, head first.’

The dive was worth it for James who regularly performs at private and corporate events now that her unique brand has earned her a reputation.

Audiences at the next instalment of the festival can expect a Moulin

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Rouge atmosphere and homages to the Folies Bergère, as well as acts inspired by the late great Josephine Baker. I ask how she feels about artists of the past, like Baker, who were commoditised: made to sell the ‘otherness’ of their bodies and stir controversy. James jumps in as though I had insulted the memory of these performers,

‘These artists were pioneers.

They created something new (as if nudity was new, right?).

Controversy was not the trigger [to their performances], it was the consequence. Back then, it was a very different era. There were only a handful of stars and they were huge!”

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And huge is exactly what James wants her product to be within five years: international tours, a permanent theatre base in Montreal and sizeable corporate sponsorships.

For the time being, she is satisfied that Scarlett James and her book True Art of Seduction ‘have become synonymous with Burlesque in Montreal.’ What would the perfect corporate sponsor be for her brand?

‘Swarovski would be great. Or a luxury car. Scarlett James is a luxury product after all.’

For more information visit: hollygauthierfrankel.com www.grandburlesqueshow.com www.scarlettjamesburlesque.com

Aris Moore peekadoo.blogspot.com

Mikko Puttonen Pictureputtonen.blogspot.com

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ONCE UPON A TIME IN A NOT SO DISTANT FUTURE Michael Lavergne

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L

ately I’ve received some strange looks when commenting to colleagues that, once upon a time, Canada was internationally regarded as a champion of social and environmental justice. Some seemed surprised and enquired when that might have been while others maintained that we never ceased being a socially conscious society, using only what we need and setting the global standard well before it became fashionable. Reasonable minds may disagree but, when it comes to making informed decisions about consumption, it would be quite unreasonable to suggest that conscientiousness guides consumer choices in Canada.

In regards to material waste and over indulgent consumption, rest assured the United States still ranks as the world’s largest offender.

Canadians, however, are not lagging too far behind. It’s not entirely our fault and there are some pretty compelling reasons for our pursuit of the American dream. With 80% of our trade happening with the U.S. and ever greater waves of cultural multipliers – media, arts, technology and fashion – flowing north, our affinity with America is understandable if not unavoidable. Depending on your point of view, that’s bad news. Like them, we are consuming more and more each day.

But I’m no cynic and we should also recognise the tangible benefits produced by our desire for globally branded consumer products.

Mostly, this includes the establishment of global monitoring systems for production, specifically in the areas of health and worker safety and environmental management. In layman’s terms, not all goods we consume are as socially decadent as they could be!

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Hardly motivated by altruism, TNCs have acted because of a key underlying fear: public relations risks to profits and sales. It was for this reason more than any other that global industries acted. Via the International Chamber of Commerce and with the help of multinational consultants, TNCs developed a concept known as ‘Corporate Social Responsibility.’

CSR gathers under one great umbrella a catch phrase to reference collective societal benefits and charitable works carried out by the private sector. Their collective promise was to make CSR central to their operating strategies and thus to fulfill their responsibility to society.

This initiative was aimed at addressing the growing voices of organised labour, grassroots social activists, environmentalists, the media and civil society leaders across the world.

Together, these groups had been expressing grave concerns about overconsumption, growing inequality and the perceived efforts of TNCs to shift work into ever lower cost countries where health and safety standards were seen as lax to non-existent.

For you and I, this means that to a greater degree than ever before, we are using the end goods – from home tools to toys to the latest five-pocket jeans – of a massive global supply chain which has been closely monitored, audited and reported on for health, safety, social and environmental impacts. These systems of ‘social accountability’ first appeared in the mid 1990s and have had two decades to evolve and mature.

That is not to say that all is hunky-dory within the plethora of industries dependent on overseas processing, labour and materials be it in apparel, mining or call centre services. fifty-two

Killings still happen to community activists in The Philippines. Chinese factories still keep double sets of books both for tax and labour management reasons. Environmentalists are still jailed in Latin America for standing up to mining companies. Bangladeshi textile facilities still catch fire. And, in something of a danse macabre, the whole industry of NGOs, consultants and service providers promoting CSR – including everything from factory audits to community engagement and capacity building – depends heavily on the persistence of the very issues they arose to combat.

Yet, as I said, I’m no cynic and before throwing the baby out with the bathwater, we might step back and look at the progress that has been made relative to the not-so-distant past. For most consumers today, buying into the promise of a given brand or retailer that they are a responsible business brings with it expectations that decision makers have done their best to ensure clean, green supply chains; clean of abuse and exploitation and sustainable to run. Occasionally, such as with In & Out Burger, TransFair, Costco Wholesale, expectations are met with assurances and evidence.

Sadly, in Canada, the ability to buy responsibly with a given degree of (verifiable) assurance that products are free of labour and environmental abuses or health risks is not yet a given. For example, over the past few years, Canadian authorities have trailed their U.S. counterparts in taking actions to limit lead and other heavy metals in consumer products. The EU’s REACH programme, requiring those who put products on the European market to ensure traceability of all chemical components upon request, is without equal here. Looking at our extractive

industries, the Canadian government spent nearly ten years talking to civil society, industry reps and indigenous peoples only to come down against enacting legislative CSR requirements for our companies’ behaviour here and abroad.

With that kind of (mis)leadership, we shouldn’t be expecting much of Canadian companies.

Having spent most of my adult life outside of Canada, it has been interesting to watch the changes in international perceptions regarding our reputation. Where once we were known for our social democracy, our support for non-aligned countries and as a signatory to environmental agreements like The Kyoto Protocol, more recently our cultural tastes, politics and neo-mercantilist policies have been compared to those of our American cousins. This certainly has something to do with a ragingly right-wing government but that only tells part of the story.

Ultimately, unless consumers like you and I demand that companies address our wants and unless we insist that our government regulate them into action, few companies will do what’s needed to provide us with more socially or environmentally responsible products or services. It is not in their nature.

Arguably, neither is it in ours as a country to accept anything less. Or at least that was the case once upon a time. {w}

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bill PAnArA

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Einstein Bobbleheads and Che Guevara T-Shirts.

About a month ago, it seemed everybody was freaking out over the idea that companies were going to take their Facebook photos and use them in advertisements. As a relatively unattractive person, I felt safe. It was like owning a 1988 Volvo and hearing car thieves were loose in the neighbourhood. Let others worry; I’m pretty sure I’ll be driving to work tomorrow.

Of course the whole social media scare died out fast. The photos fell under the umbrella of intellectual property, and that made them untouchable (fortuitously, none of my pictures ended up in any ads for genital herpes medication). It was a minor incident but it highlighted the idea that things as seemingly worthless as profile pics and tweets can actually end up having value.

once greatness is established, is it wrong to treat it like an economic opportunity?

Let’s start with Albert Einstein. A genius in life, Big Al really went Hollywood after he died. His writings and likeness are owned by The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. A savvy group, they licensed his image through Beverly Hills’ Roger Richman Agency. Sure, a living Einstein could explain relativity, but the deceased Modern history is full of intellectual one could really make it rain. In 2011, property, and it’s a gold-mine. It’s weird he earned $12 million by appearing in to think, but the same material putting the Night at the Museum movie (as a thousands of high school students to bobblehead), squatting in McDonald’s sleep every year can end up generating Happy Meals and endorsing Baby millions of dollars. Photographs, letters Einstein products (I think he could’ve and even names – if you’re lucky enough also sued Troll dolls for stealing his to be related to an icon, it’s like owning hairstyle). Twelve million isn’t bad for a a really, really good stock – double as guy who died almost 60 years ago. merchandisable images, words and Returning to the quandary, does any of maybe books. this tarnish Einstein’s legacy? Personally, However, while it’s one thing to make I would consider being a Happy Meal toy money from a celeb – say Michael quite an honour. Put my face on McDonald Jackson whitening cream or Elvis Presley Land Cookies, please, I beg you. At the amphetamines – making money off the same time, I can imagine Einstein as one intellectual property of a historical figure of my friends on Facebook, copying and introduces a bit of a quandary. Basically, pasting that disclaimer status update,

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wanting to be left alone.

Dr. Martin Luther King is another interesting case. One of the greatest men of the modern era, King’s family has taken a lot of heat for the handling of his intellectual property. During the late 90s, the family enforced copyright over his famous ‘I Have a Dream’ speech suing both CBS News and USA Today for unlicensed use. Technically, a teacher isn’t even supposed to show it in a classroom without purchasing the official DVD for $20.

Then there are historical figures who aren’t copyrighted, orphans stuck in the netherworld of the public domain. Che Guevara is one, and he’s had his face plastered all over t-shirts and coffee mugs. Marilyn Monroe is another, and a company named DigiCon recently transformed her into a hologram. Look it up online; it’s creepy. If that thing tried to sing happy birthday to Barack Obama, I bet he’d shoot it down with a drone.

In the end, none of this is particularly shocking. When money gets involved, life isn’t so sacred anymore. But it hits on Yet, the King family sold permission to a bigger question, and that has to do with Cingular and Alcatel, allowing them to the transference of intellectual property place snippets of the speech in their rights. What expectations should we commercials. That’s rather disappointing. have if someone else acquires our name, Not to sound like some kind of ethics words or likeness? As we move into the policeman, but I doubt Dr. King’s dream digital age, and social media turns us all included being a company’s pitchman. into quasi-public figures, maybe that’s something to think about.

Other estates toe the same line. The Anne Frank Foundation was sued by The Anne We should also consider what we Frank Fund after the former trademarked want for today’s leaders. I’m presently her name and the latter objected to the looking into marketing Stephen Harper way they were using it (in an interesting underwear: his likeness can keep you side note, The Fund stopped a Spanish warm at night or can be c***ed on in the company from marketing Anne Frank morning. I smell a winner… {w} Jeans). Houghton Mifflin bought the rights to publish Hitler’s Mein Kampf, but then had to donate the profits to charity when people were outraged they were making money off it (if you’re curious, Hitler’s likeness is also owned, by the State of Bavaria).

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Aris Moore peekadoo.blogspot.com

the political prose of dr. seuss

By Kondwani Mwase

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Another holiday season has come and gone. New Year’s hangovers are slowly becoming a thing of distant memory. Even the resolutions to transform one’s body into a chiselled Adonis are back to the shelf, waiting to live another fortnight in 2014.

What remains, however, are our memories of 2012, our hopes for spring, and, undoubtedly, some depleted bank accounts. Enter the {money} issue and Theodor Seuss Geisel.

Dr. Seuss was no stranger to controversy.

The Lorax – banned by the California School District for demonizing the forestation industry; The Butter Battle Book – banned (in one small Canadian library…we at the {w} of course wonder if Harper had anything to do with this) due to its references to the arms race; Yertle the Turtle – banned by BC’s Prince Rupert School District for being too political.

The case of Yertle is, arguably, the most unsettling.

The line at the middle of the controversy could be the slogan for the human rights movement, the welfare state and just about every progressive organisation today: “I know up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here on the bottom, we too should have rights” (Yertle the Turtle).

The global economy lays in tatters, Mother Nature drowns in toxins and tyrannical governments are being replaced by tyrannical governments (and not without a little help from the so-called democracies!). Seems to me that this line might be the most apropos statement for 2012.

But maybe Seuss’ words are too strong for those blood thirsty capitalists in...BC! What?!? Hey, at least we can always count on Canadians to provide us with glaring contradictions!

At a time when we’re searching for answers from businessfolk, economists, politicians and sundry actors most of whom got us into this mess, perhaps we might shift gears: artists, teachers and young people could help get us through these storms. In honour of the literary sage known as Dr. Seuss:

EASY MONEY

It’s easy to think I’m pushing for leftist reform, But I’m just sayin’ that Seuss got mad form.

Flip through his pages and read the full story, Or you’ll be lost chasing ducets, ending up rather sorry.

From Yertle to Lorax to green eggs too, There’s wisdom in his pages, just ask a Who. We need more artists like that Dr. Seuss guy, He knows things like who, what, where and why.

If we listen closely, He’ll even tell us about money.

And what a rhyming humpoopala might say, Something dry or something gay?

We can expect from him the simple truth, Even if capitalists think it uncouth.

Evil may not be found in the pursuit of cash, It’s just that there’s more to life than upping your stash. fifty-nine

AD HERE

Mikko Puttonen Pictureputtonen.blogspot.com

THE COMMUNITY

{w.13}

Kondwani Mwase {the stock boy}

Tiffany Davieaud {the human sponge}

Dr. Mohsen Al Attar {the pacer}

Alyssa Favreau {jack of hearts}

Lisa Chan {chinadoll}

Teri Baloukas

founder | publisher managing editor creative lead

production manager lead graphic design social media

Casey Watson {the art monkey} art director

CONTRIBUTORS Amie Watson Aura A. Ravelo Bill Panara Cheri DiNovo Diabolique Elysse M. Presant Jeff Moscato Jessica R. Sudbury Lauren Jane Heller Lola Vertigo MDC

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Michael Lavergne Reuben Cox Rodney Ramsey SebastĂ?an Di Poi Yasmin Afshar "The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless" Jean-Jacques Rousseau

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