Article: The Top Censored News Items of 2007

Slashdot, a site I visit every once in a while for media/technology news (their motto is "news for nerds, stuff that matters") had a summary of a very interesting (if disturbing) article, by an outfit named Project Censored (from their website: "Project Censored is a media research group out of Sonoma State University which tracks the news published in independent journals and newsletters. From these, Project Censored compiles an annual list of 25 news stories of social significance that have been overlooked, under-reported or self-censored by the country's major national news media").

Indeed, the Top 25 Censored Stories of 2007 contains some pretty disturbing stuff. Like:

#2 Halliburton Charged with Selling Nuclear Technologies to Iran

and...

#11 Dangers of Genetically Modified Food Confirmed

Again, though it may be easy, superficially, to think this is yet another left-wing group with a wishlist, it isn't. These are well-researched, authoritative items of interest that are cross-confirmed by third-party contributors. That our media (and yes, there is an Americentric focus to the list - Project Censored is, after all, an American outfit) pays scant attention to any of these and yet devotes slightly less time to Anna Nicole Smith's death than on the day of 9/11 is a travesty.

Since we're on the topic of journalism, ethics, and self-censorship, allow me to talk to you about bias. There's been a lot of mud thrown since just before 9/11 (and obviously since) about a "liberal media bias" in the news. In return, and certainly since 9/11, there have been just as many accusations about "right-wing media bias" also. The problem is that neither accusation is particularly correct - or rather, neither of these stances tackles the larger issue: money.

Television news requires advertisers to produce it. The producers of television news require viewers in order to sell advertising time. Ostensibly, there is no difference between news programming and sitcoms. They need to keep viewers watching in order for the advertisers who sponsor/pay-for the program to feel as if their money is well spent. Print news is the same (as are their internet-based spin-offs): advertisers are the lifeblood of news. It has been this way for over a hundred years.

So, getting back to the "liberal media" vs. "right-wing media" infighting, it's not a question of who is truly pushing a "liberal agenda" or what show is promoting an unquestionable "right-wing" viewpoint. It's about making money, getting viewers, and above all, keeping advertisers happy.

This is one of the not-so-good things about capitalism. When you surrender journalism to "the market", the market wins every time. Thus, Anna Nicole Smith's death is the rational choice for keeping viewers entranced and advertisers happy over, let's say, the destruction of the world's fish stocks. Complexity - and if there's anything you can count on in life, it's complexity - does not sell, or so "the market" dictates.

There are always exceptions - PBS in the US and CBC in Canada: however, both have been corrupted by government intrusion, if not partially hobbled. Funding for public broadcasting is constantly being trimmed and political interference, particularly in PBS' case, has started to infect the roots.

I write all this not to say "don't read newspapers, don't watch Newsworld @ 11" but rather so that people understand that, yes, it's possible for a newspaper or broadcast to spend pages of print and minutes of talking without actually focusing on stories that are truly substantial.

My advice: Keep digging. Don't get sidetracked by trifling "left" vs. "right" debates when the freedom of news itself is the issue.

Leonard: Thank-You

So...

There I was, sitting in an edit room, trying to output last-minute changes to the show I'm working on. I get a call on my cell. Even with the ringer turned off it bugged the crap out of me - I *hate* interruptions when I'm focusing on technically detailed tasks. Furthermore, I didn't recognize the number.

Grrrrr...

"Hello, Matt?" says the voice on the other end.

"Yes." I said, wanting to keep the conversation as brief as possible.

"My name is Leonard. I have something for you. From [the name of a prominent film/tv payroll company]." he said.

I scratched my head...I just got my cheque yesterday and I haven't even cashed it yet.

"Um...I'm not expecting a cheque - what's this regarding?"

I was suspicious - this payroll company doesn't personally deliver *anything*.

"I'm at Queen and Bathurst - are you at home?"

"No - I'm on the east end." I responded, not appreciating the confusion.

He insisted on meeting, though he also insisted he only had a half-hour until he had to go home. Meanwhile, I'm thinking to myself: what the hell is going on?. We agreed to meet at a mutual location, a post production house @ Adelaide and Sherbourne. All the while, I'm irritated and flummoxed as to who the hell it is and what the hell is going on [sidenote: contrary to what most people think film/tv work is about, this is me: all business].

When I get to the post house, I told the receptionist: "Okay..." I rolled my eyes, "...there's this guy, named Leonard. He's got some sort of cheque or package for me - I haven't any clue. If you could please let me know when he comes in, that would be grand."

I proceeded to go to my workstation. Soon enough, the receptionist calls. Leonard is here. I go to the foyer, not sure what to expect, and sure enough there is a young gentleman sitting there, smiling. It's a smile that you don't attribute to someone I anticipated being a gofer for a payroll company. Then I noticed he was dressed in clothing I would not necessarily attribute to a gofer for a payroll company - a cream coloured vest with matching dress pants.

"Here you go." he smiled.

It was an envelope...a cheque was inside. Scribbled on the cheque were the directions I'd given him to the post house. Then I looked at the date on the cheque. Then I looked at him and then it dawned on me...

"You don't work for [..], do you?"

"No." he smiled.

It dawned on me that, earlier that day, when I was doling out cheques to the sound editors, I'd tucked mine in my back pocket. It must've fallen-out. This man had travelled half-way across town to return my cheque. He didn't know me. He'd called the production office and they'd given him my cell number. Remembering what he'd said about "going home", and taking note of his attire, my guess is that he had just finished a work-shift somewhere.

I couldn't believe it.

I shook his hand in shock and thanked him profusely, not believing what had just happened. I also gave him $20 for travel expenses - it was all the money I had on me.

I still can't believe it.

It is circumstances like this which remind me how unpredictable, and sometimes miraculous, the events of the world can be. Indeed, it is people like Leonard who set the bar for the rest of us. I rushed to my laptop to post this; it's the least I can do.

Thank-you, Leonard. Wherever you are.

Waters of March

(Yes...I know it's May. Don't take me so literally.)

One of the most captivating songs - a song that seems destined to have an everlasting power, despite a gaggle of jazz performers hanging their hat on it to fill out an album or hope upon hope for a Billboard spot - is a bossa nova piece, originally written by Antonio Carlos Jobim in 1972, called Waters of March (or Águas de Março in its native Portuguese). Remarkably, one of the definitive versions (although there are so many beautiful renditions) is captured on YouTube here, performed by Elis Regina. [sidenote: watch this side-by-side with the early 80's video for Every Breath You Take by The Police - the similarities in the look, style, direction, and editing are uncanny]

What I love about the song, ever since I first became aware of it long, long ago (and still, it took me years to find the name of the song - I was convinced that Astrud "The Girl From Ipanema" Gilberto had done it originally, which turned out to be a red herring...as so many things I'd naively attributed to her - but that's another story) is its flow and stream of consciousness; considering it was written during Rio de Janeiro's downpours in late March - the end of summer in the Southern Hemisphere - it's a stunning bit of onomatopoeia.

Though originally written in Portuguese - the language of Brazil, for all you junior ranchers out there - Jobim eventually re-worked the lyrics into an English translation which is actually longer (which was necessary to keep the feel/structure of the original). For more information on this song, please see this entry in Wikipedia.

Here are the Portuguese lyrics and their English re-working:

Águas de Março

"É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

É um caco de vidro,
é a vida, é o sol
É a noite, é a morte,
é o laço, é o anzol

É peroba do campo,
é o nó da madeira
Caingá candeia,
é o matita-pereira

É madeira de vento,
tombo da ribanceira
É o mistério profundo,
é o queira ou não queira

É o vento ventando,
é o fim da ladeira
É a viga, é o vão,
festa da cumeeira

É a chuva chovendo,
é conversa ribeira
Das águas de março,
é o fim da canseira

É o pé, é o chão,
é a marcha estradeira
Passarinho na mão,
pedra de atiradeira

É uma ave no céu,
é uma ave no chão
É um regato, é uma fonte,
é um pedaço de pão

É o fundo do poço,
é o fim do caminho
No rosto o desgosto,
é um pouco sozinho

É um estrepe, é um prego,
é uma ponta, é um ponto
É um pingo pingando,
é uma conta, é um conto

É um peixe, é um gesto,
é uma prata brilhando
É a luz da manhã,
é o tijolo chegando

É a lenha, é o dia,
é o fim da picada
É a garrafa de cana,
o estilhaço na estrada

É o projeto da casa,
é o corpo na cama
É o carro enguiçado,
é a lama, é a lama

É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um resto de mato,
na luz da manhã

São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração

É uma cobra, é um pau,
é João, é José
É um espinho na mão,
é um corte no pé

São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração

É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

É um passo, é uma ponte,
é um sapo, é uma rã
É um belo horizonte,
é uma febre terçã

São as águas de março
fechando o verão
É a promessa de vida
no teu coração"

Waters of March

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass,
It is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush

The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free,
It's the end of the slope,
It's a beam, it's a void,
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart

The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot's stone

A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow

The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It's a loss, it's a find

A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale

A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night

A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme,
It's a cold, it's the mumps

The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud

Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe

A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night

A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain

A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart

A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road

A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.

Thoughts On Art & Collaboration

I had an interesting discussion with a friend of mine, Derek. He's a photographer and a skilled, accomplished one at that.

We got to talking about whether there was room for socialism in art - ie. collaboration over, let's say, ego-driven art making.

My first response was that it really depended upon the discipline. For example, I felt that photography was inherently a first-person ego-driven art form, whereas theatre/film were inherently collaborative art forms.

However, in retrospect, it's not that easy. For example, the collective General Idea utilised photography (though not exclusively), using each other as subjects in their art - even until death. [side note, please check out the work of A A Bronson, the sole surviving member]

Whereas photography has precedents for non-singular collaboration, I also realised from my own education in film that, even though I still feel that it (and theatre, from which it largely inherits its "legs") is inherently collaborative, there are (truly) independent filmmakers such as Maya Deren and Phil Hoffman from whose works we can certainly feel a singular, personal vision at play. [another side note - because creating footnotes in HTML is a pain in the ass - there is a chasm of difference between what is popularly referred to as "indie" and what is truly "independent". Without being overbearing, I encourage people to see the films of Deren, Hoffman, and others, such as Stan Brackhage - if only to understand the difference and to understand what a filmmaker truly is, in my books anyway).

There are multitudinous exceptions, of course, in either argument. I still hold that photography is inherently, nay naturally singular and ego-driven, and that theatre and film are almost beholden to a collaborative effort (regardless of who "stars" in said production, or who "directs" them).

I suppose the reason I bring this up is that it is so easy to fall into the habit of seeing art as being the work of only one person. This unfortunately leads to some artists holding an entirely false sense of reality. Sometimes collaboration is unavoidable, if only to complete a project. Also, there are some artists who take the whole "I have a vision" thing way, way too seriously. There is much to be learned from working with others, just as there is for those who are used to collaborating to be left on their own to create alone.

Orwell Would Be Proud

See that? It's a quarter. More specifically a Canadian quarter commemorating those who have served in wars past (for those outside Canada who aren't familiar with the poppy symbol and how it ties in, check this out). However, according to United States Defence, it could have been a device used for espionage, utilising nanotechnology no less. Yes.

According to this article (and many others) the U.S. Defence Department was so astonished by the poppy design on the quarter (to be honest, I think Canada was one of the first in the world to use this sort of coloured dye on its coins) that it went under intense scrutiny, under the presumption that they could be used for tracing American "contractors" (aka agents - and by the way, when will such linguistically neutered stupidity end? A contractor hires a plumber to fix the kitchen sink, not air-dropped in the desert to create an uprising of local tribesmen) who pocketed them.

This is obviously very, very silly. Worse still, it's indicative of such a ludicrously paranoid environment that it scares me to think what else has been flagged by the USDD? Migratory birds? Snow? Maple syrup?

Bandcroft poster

May Miscellany or "Practise Makes Stuff Better"

Hello all,

I'm working on adding some more photos soon and I'm incubating some ideas for articles. Work has been going spectacularly well (in the sense that I'll be employed full-time until October, and it's a big-assed feature film too), but of course it keeps me away from this little piece of cyberspace (does anyone use that term any more? Has it been retired?)

Some things to note:

1. Bandcroft, the improv/jam band I joined will be appearing twice this month at the venerable Cloak & Dagger. We will be playing May 8th and May 29th (both are Tuesdays). Come for the drinks - stay for the music. The fun starts at 9pm.

2. Behind The Garage - our first gig, last Saturday, went wonderfully. It seems we got the best crowd reception and aside from some early sound issues we played very well together. I guess that's what happens when you practise regularly. I'm not sure when our next gig will be, but I'll post it here when I know. You can always check out our MySpace page here for updates.

3. Writing...as some of you know, I'm a fiction writer. I'm going to start a new round of submissions soon (I took a bit of a blow in January - three rejections in as many weeks, and one of them was very, very close). As well, I'm extremely happy with how The Novel is coming. As I said before, "I guess that's what happens when you practise regularly". Things get better.

Lastly, Facebook. Is it me or did e v e r y o n e in Toronto join in the last month? Apparently, Toronto is the most represented city right now, which is kinda neat. I must say - and this is not a plug - compared to, say MySpace, Facebook is such an elegant, simple community. And so few bloody ads.