I watch maybe three games of football a year. And of the last dozen games I’ve seen, this was the most spectacular. At the half I couldn’t imagine Montreal coming back from the whipping Saskatchewan was dealing them. And yet they did. With five seconds left on the clock.
- Saskatchewan must be kicking themselves around the block today.
- The kicker for Montreal, who I was thinking should be fired half way through for flubbing two kicks – one only 24 yards, the other a screamingly embarrassing 7 yards – , won everything.
- At five seconds left, that same flub kicker flubbed it again and lost the game for them. And then it was announced that Saskatchewan had too many men on the field and the flubber got to rekick, and this time won the game for Montreal.
Are you freaking kidding me?
All I gotta say is, wow. That wasn’t a game. It was a Dashiell Hammett novel.
After all that work I put in to trashing things in school – pens, erasers, text books, scribblers, and yes, desks – I wish I’d known I could have made some money at my creations.
Ben Turnbull’s work looks like dremel graffiti to me. Man, back in the day, what I wouldn’t have given for a dremel! But then, that would have been a greased slide to juvie.
I’m done the new RAVING Magazine. Tons of work, but well worth it. This time around, I pumped up the content by doing an interview with iconic RP bard, Michael Appleby. The launch is this Wednesday night at the Kasbar, 10444 – 82 Ave, Edmonchuck. I’ll be posting the mag on Wednesday here.
Alberta went down a road of commissioning acres of "heritage murals" a while back. Poor old Stony Plain was inundated by them. Spinning wheels, bearded progenitors, pinafores. It was enough to make you cough your sidewalk sale muffin into someone’s truck box. We have one of these pukerific things at the end of our block. "Historic Highlands" plastered all over the side of a former Safeway. Good grief, you can still smell the pits and farts of the guys who built this place, and already we’re building monuments to them.
Anyway, it’s time we stopped all this folk art guck. Can we please hire some artists for our public art?
OK, Julius Caesar and Venus, spooged. Can’t say I’ve ever had a night that bad. Looks like a bellyful of bad corn fritters that got hurled in a high wind.
Remember back in the dark ages (Oct 23rd) when I posted a mention of the extraordinary work of Allison Schulnik? Well, she’s made a music vid with Grizzly Bear in her own inimitable style.
Having done a bit of woodcarving in my time, I know what’s involved in making these sculptures. And buddy, holy crap… does this guy ever know what he’s doing. Love the imperfect laminations. Love the rough and smooth texture contrasts. Love the subjects. Love the unfinished bits. Awesome!
Commercial photographers are the unsung heroes of the visual art world. In this blog, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what’s art and what’s commerce. Me point arm over dere. Me say Look. Cool. That’s it, that’s all, there ain’t no more.
These guys are one of my favorite commercial pic outfits. Ninety percent of corporate advertising money is spent on visual sludge. The diamonds deserve some kudos.
