REALLY easy rider

I recently (read: five minutes ago) ran across this reference to the movie Easy Rider (which, I feel compelled to add, I've seen twice and still don't get, except for the scene where Jack Nicholson is perched on the back of one of the bikes in a suit, wearing his old football helmet, which I not only get, I love). It was in an article about the new Mercedes GLK-Class, and why I was reading it is neither here nor there. The point is, well, I'll tell you the point in a minute, first, read this:

"In the 40 or so years since Wyatt and Billy’s great escape, first impressions suggest little has changed in this no-man’s land between L. A. and Las Vegas. With the Steppenwolf classic “Born to be Wild” pumping from the stereo, we gun the engine and set off in the tracks of our road movie heroes. “Get your motor running/looking for adventure...” Although the scenery may not have changed much, it takes only a matter of seconds at the wheel of the new GLK to realize that 2008-style independence comes with much greater comfort than that enjoyed by Hopper and Fonda, and that Mercedes-style freedom comes with leather upholstery, air conditioning, at least seven airbags, Brake Assist (BAS) and power steering as standard. Yet despite such modern creature comforts, it is impossible to lose that “easy-rider” feeling."

Do I even have to tell you the point? Oh, what the hell, I will.

Would Easy Rider have become the cult classic we know today had our heroes escaped in an air-conditioned, luxury automobile with SEVEN airbags?

Would the sight of their Mercedes pulling up to the gas pumps have raised the hackles of the yokel behind the counter? Even if the GLK is "15 feet of antiestablishment attitude?"

An antiestablishment Mercedes?

I now declare the counterculture dream of the '60s officially DEAD.

adult education

I've been thinking about going back to school.

It all started last week when my boss, out of the blue, and "just out of curiosity," asked me if I could tell him how a laser printer worked. (For those who are wondering, I do not work for Dell or HP or even a local Central European firm assembling printers under the "Iffy" or "Ersatz" brand.)

I thought about it and realized that I could not -- I could not tell him how a laser printer worked! And oh, how this has haunted me. It's why I'm thinking of going back to school -- vocational school.

It's not the first time I've considered a change of career, or pondered the acquisition of some portable skills -- small-engine repair once called my name, but that was back in Canada where EVERYONE has a lawn mower or a chainsaw or a snowmobile and many have all three and use them interchangeably.

I once did a report on the workings of a two-stroke carbureted engine and I remember it in detail. I asked my cousin, who was studying mechanical engineering, to explain it to me, telling him I would be expected to incorporate "colorful and apt similes and analogies" into my account -- my cousin did one better and incorporated them into his own account -- "The piston moves up and down in the cylinder like dog food in a can" -- being the one that leaps immediately to mind.

In fact, I remember the workings of the two-stroke engine so clearly, I may just describe them to my boss, substituting "laser printer" for "engine."

"And then the letters appear on the paper like dried dog food pellets on a plate."

Needs work, I think I'll call my cousin...

[Pictured above: a laser printer at work!]

what's happening in canada

Sometimes one writes out of inspiration, sometimes as a matter of discipline, and sometimes as a way of avoiding cleaning the cat litter box (apparently this last was behind much of both "A Farewell to Arms" and "The Great Gatsby").

I'm not saying what is behind today's post, but my cats are holding their noses as I write, and it's not a reaction to my prose.

I realize I've fallen down on the job of keeping you all informed about what's happening in Canada. The main obstacle is that I don't actually know what's happening in Canada. This morning, though, in my never-ending efforts to serve my public (both of you) I've skimmed the Globe and Mail (Toronto's NATIONAL newspaper) and and here's what I found:

"Within spitting distance of the Calgary International Airport, at an anonymous conference hall, Oscar-winner Ben Affleck moved listeners to tears as he talked about his experiences in Africa."

Raises more questions than it answers, doesn't it? Who's spitting at the Calgary airport? And who gave Ben Affleck an Oscar?

"He held back no painful detail about the people he encountered, juxtaposing their stories with what he called 'vain consumption' in the West, in a room oozing with oil money, where 325 guests paid $25,000 per table of 10. The tables alone raised $800,000."

More questions: can you think of a better example of 'vain consumption' than spending $25,000 to have dinner with Ben Affleck?

Oh wait, maybe this:

"Affleck's celebrity status helped raise more than a quarter of a million dollars during the live auction on Saturday night, including $150,000 donated by five couples...to take in two upcoming movie premieres, Affleck's comedy He's Just Not That Into You and Damon's war drama Green Zone."

(He's Just Not That Into You is apparently the story of a Calgary oil man's relationship to the African continent.)

And that's what's happening in Canada!

Sex ve městě

I went to the Czech premiere of Sex and the City last week and let me tell you, it was FABULOUS. The good people at Palace Cinemas pulled out all the stops to ensure the evening was every bit as glam as the film.

Before entering the theater, we were offered a "welcome" shot of "vodka." Half the glasses contained a brown liquid and half contained a cloudy white liquid and both tasted like air freshener mixed with club soda, but maybe that's what passes for vodka in New York these days, what do I know?

So many buckets of ink have been spilled discussing the film I feel no need to say anything about it other than that it was like watching five episodes of the show one after the other, which I may actually have done on occasion, although never flying high on "vodka."

Some women dressed for the premiere, but it was wall-to-wall Charlottes -- tasteful summer dresses -- no floppy, flower lapel pins or over-sized tam o'shanters or tutus (for those, apparently, I should have hit the Indiana Jones premiere).

After the film, there were subway sandwiches and beer. And then I asked myself, "Are 'Subway' and 'Pilsner Urquell' the labels everyone kept going on about in the movie?" But before I could answer myself, they ran out of beer and it was time to throw away the plastic glass, dust the bread crumbs off my shirt, and return to the workaday world.

...and we're back

Many years ago, in journalism school, my sister's class was asked to come up with a name for the weekly radio show they'd be broadcasting on the campus station. She suggested "Le Trottoir Imbecile" -- "The Imbecile Sidewalk" -- based on the title of an Edward Gorey story about a writer who finds himself at a very boring dinner at a restaurant by that name.

Her radio professor was much taken with it, but cooler heads prevailed, and the show was eventually called, "Newshour," or "Current Events," or "Stuff We Have to Do to Graduate."

But I always felt "Le Trottoir Imbecile" was a title worthy of use, and now that my old blog name is no longer appropriate (because I no longer live at Rasinovo Nabrezi 76, and the Czech pensioners who do would probably would not appreciate my musings on the perfidy of the Adidas corporation or the wisdom of dating a war criminal going out attached to their address) I've decided to use it.

I'm excited about the blog relaunch and I hope you are too, and if not, that you have the grace to fake it because I promise, I'll buy it.

More to follow...