Author: Joey deVilla

In addition to all the standard “Mom” things that she did, there’s one particularly inspiring thing that I’m sure influenced me.

Years ago, when I was in my early teens, we were attending some kind of Filipino cultural event that took place at one of Accordion City’s downtown concert halls (I can’t remember of it was Massey Hall or what is now called the Hummingbird Centre). The program was supposed to begin with the playing of both Bayan Magiliw and O Canada, our two countries’ national anthems. The problem was that none of the performers knew how to play them. The stage director took a chance and decided to see if any of the audience members — who were still milling about the lobby — could play those songs on piano.

Mom, upon hearing the problem, said “Oh, those are easy!” While Mom hadn’t seen the notation for either song, she’s the person from whom I inherited and learned playing by ear. Fifteen minutes later, and with only one hasty backstage practice run, she was the opening act of a show she’d only gone to see. And she smiled and played so gracefully, as if she’d been rehearsing for weeks and not just hastily recruited.

Thanks Mom, for teaching me the art of the possible…and being the Queen of Rock!

After all, as my Mom would say (and it’s her day tomorrow): “Those chicks aren’t going to pick themselves up, son.”

Okay, maybe she was referring to dirty socks and not chicks, but you get the idea…

Death to the Extremist

• This one quotes one of my favourite songs by the band Cake.
• “Silence is a hate crime.”
• A “fan art” strip by Lore Sjoberg (of Brunching Shuttlecocks fame).

It seems to be doing that for me. I’m running Internet Explorer 6 under Windows XP. Let me know if it’s happening to you in the comments.

My friend: So what’s on tap for you tonight?

Me: I’ve been invited to a warblogger dinner.

My friend: As what, the token leftie?

Me: Centrist. I’m a radical centrist.

My friend: You’re sure you weren’t invited just so they could…well, sacrifice you to their god?

Nonsense. I’m the guy who’ll do the on-stage spanking at Bondage-A-Go-Go and whom you can still take to meet your parents the day after. I get along with everybody, I always know which fork to use and I’ve had all my shots. That’s why they invite me to all the good dinner parties. To paraphrase the famous summary of my hero Ferris Bueller: “The hippies and warbloggers, radicals, neocons, suits, anarchists, SUV drivers, tree-huggers… they all adore him. They think he’s a righteous dude.”

(My friend Deenster is probably rolling her eyes as she reads this. She hates it when I invoke The Bueller, and I’ve done it twice today.)

The bash took place at the Tuscany Cafe, a nice little Italian place located in that row of charming restaurants on Baldwin Street, nestled in a tree-lined pocket residential neighbourhood and crawling distance from my house. There were about a dozen attendees, among whom were Kathy “Relapsed Catholic” Shaidle, Rick “Movieblog” McGinnis, The Meatriarch, Mark Wickens, Dr. Weevil and Mark Weisblott (I’m sure I’m missing some names and URLs — let me know and I’ll update). The whole thing was organized by David “Ranting and Roaring” Janes, who did a wonderful job as host.

Being a gathering of conservatives, everyone had a job, good hygiene and a preference for eating meat, and no one threatened to launch into bad poetry or performance art (they did ask me to play a tune on the accordion before I left). The conversation was good, and was largely personal rather than political — a lot of getting-to-know-you chatting, questions about the New Girl Incident and I think Noam Chomsky, who figures very strongly in right-wing demonology, was mentioned only once (although that mention brought a collective groan from the table).

It was a lovely evening with some great folks, and it was a pleasure meeting all of you!

Thanks again to David Janes for organizing the event and inviting me!

Sinfest

• “She’s attacking my whole belief system.”

Superosity

The pop culture references and bizarro non-sequiturs are what make this a favourite of mine.

• “Here I am, at rich kids summer camp.”
• “I thought you said you read my blog!”
• “Reading just words is for lesser beings! Have it adapted into comic book format immediately!”

Achewood

Ray’s been facing off against Little Nephew in a rap battle that puts the ones in 8 Mile to shame. My buddy George would love this — he’s a “math atheist” who doesn’t get “this mixing of numbers and letters stuff”.

• Little nephew write raps dissing algebra.
• Roast Beef thinks Little Nephew’s rhymes are solid.
• “Y’all be like a queer Jack Frost, cold nippin’ at my hose!”
• Rap Battle #1: “Am I being dissed by the brontosaurus of rhyme? / There’s cave art of you freakin’ to Morris Day and the Time!”
• Rap Battle #2: “My fans roll all real in sleek black Escalades! / Your fans be all worried ’bout their D&D trades!”
• Rap Battle #3: The women approach me and whisper ‘bongiorno’ / You’re in your room watching scrambled-up porno!”

I was flipping through the book over breakfast and thought to myself: “Lightweights.”