Portality

Ugh, a portal. That is apparently what Google does not want said of itself.

Although Google dislikes being described as a portal, Sullivan and industry analysts said its new finance section leaves little doubt where the company is headed. “They are being fairly careful about it, but they are walking very rapidly toward becoming a portal,” said Forrester Research analyst Charlene Li. “They have a lot of other services gunning for them, so they have become most keen about building user loyalty so the users don’t have a reason to go someplace else.”

Am I loyal to Google? I use the mail, like Picasa and search through it. I map my travel with it. But am I loyal? I don’t look to it for innovations that will improve my web experience and think of this site and my browser as my portal. In the late 90s there was a urge to create portality, that control of the web. The Federal government had people shopping the idea back then holding meetings stakeholderly. One in PEI attracted millions in public money only to become a wasteland of tumblin’ tumbleweeds.

They seem to be a curse. But why? Are we all still a little Soylent Green about the internet? Do we think that anyone who wants to control us as a conduit must not have our interests in mind? I think it is more that the web is not apt for portals, that the whole thing is an annoyingly unindexed and disorganized playground of surf, idleness and interest and anything that thinks it can organize it for me bundle it all tied in a big bow is missing a point.

Stewed Fruit And Crust

Last evening I was witness to a dish of wild blueberries, oats butter and sugar: blueberry crisp. But then I thought for a moment that it might have been blueberry crumble when I was a kid. I knew we never called it Blueberry Brown Betty but others in school might have. Brown Better always struck me as the sort of thing New Brunswickers might say. But these are distinct but related to blueberry grunt, more dumplings than crust. There must be more in the matrix of grannie-approved stewed fruit dessert terminology.

Then it was the question of onomatopoeic foods. Do people have grunt after bubble and squeek? And what about my dream meal: mahi-mahi with piri-piri sauce on a bed of cous-cous served with cocoa? Makes you think.


Man contemplating piri-piri sauce

Hell In Canada

I must say “hell” about 37 times a day. If I stub my toe or realize I failed to lock the car once I’m inside. It is a pretty low level sweary-mary around our house. So odd it is to read this:

If it’s not the bloody, it’s the hell.

When British censors banned a controversial Tourism Australia ad campaign this month, they did so because it used the word “bloody” in the question: “So where the bloody hell are you?” Now the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation says it won’t run the ad during family programming because of the word “hell.”

“It just shows you the different taste levels of audiences in various cultures,” said CBC spokeswoman Ruth Ellen Soles. ” ‘Hell’ is a problem for us in terms of kids and family viewing. It comes under the category of ‘taste’ and in these situations we listen to what our audience tells us.”

Cultural barrier to the hellish? What the hell is that? You want religious cultural sensitivity? This is religious cultural sensitivity. Seeing as the kids see a great Canadian beer called Maudit around from time to time, I think they would have a hell of a time finding fault. Hasn’t Satan largely been neutered in Canada anyway, relegated to the image on a sports team’s jersey? If I were to describe someone as Old Nick, hell, they’d likely think I was referencing Santa, not Satan. Even – with all due respect – the holy rollers have long since moved from the fear of hell to the fantastic welcome at the pearly gates that they (and they alone) deserve and shall receive. It’s all about upside these days.

The Things You Wake Up To…

…from a Sunday nap. First, an unholy pool crashing upset…thought I am secretly happy some place called George Mason won…but I can’t tell you why. And then I see the goofiest whack across the temple of the English language by CBS sports when you try to check out what happened…they appear to have even registered “GLOG“ as a service mark.

What next? Good Lord, what next???

Craig Questions The Format

I’ve been wonding what this is all about for a long time so I am glad that Craig is wondering, too. Aside from the question of unauthoritative semi-fact, there is much good in the entertainment value of blogs but one simply can and should only devote so much time to being entertained. There are other things to be about in life. But the most interesting comment of his for me is this:

I am also finding old favourite blogs of less interest to me. More often than not, having a high noise to signal ratio. Many, seem to be evolving to a BBS sort of community (which is a good thing), but if you are not interested in the same types of topics that that community discusses, then interest in being part of that community wanes. Thus, I seem to be leaving the using computers and the Internet as a recreation to using same as a tool.

I think this is a very valid observation. One can only rant to oneself so long. And being cranky at the sites of others is only fun when there is mutual fun in the cranking. Things eventually have to settle down to a more honest personal diary-style of writing, writing for writing sake, topical writing, community discussion or even writing approaching what Eric Idle is quoted as saying about Monty Python: “it turns the focus back onto itself. That’s the Python key: to mock the form in which it lives.”

Conversely, there is little place for the type-A-list guru-iffic floggy fantasies as those that have taken that stance have just shown how the ego can get in the way of honest understanding. If I look now at what I thought two and half years ago about what would kill off the bloggy cacophony I would now go with RSS as being the fatal app at least in its present use of being author rather than content based. No one can reasonably be expected to pay attention to everything written by 100 or more individuals. It is too much. So then you read only those you knew or wrote well or were sharing and interest…and the A-heads. And then the futuristic A-heads proved their own dullness and showed their motives. Aggregation became the reductio ad absurdum. I thought this taggy stuff would be it but it only became another bulky impossible aggregation.

Once again, we need a topical tree to index this damn place to find the content, so you find what is actually interesting to you and not what is supposed to be (according to the blogsperts) interesting to all. Any chance of that happening?

Geez

I can be rash. I have bought suits without putting them on. I think. I have only bought two suits. Anyway, Blork mentioned Geez magazine and I subscribed for 25 bucks. That is about 125% of a large La Chouffe at Volo when you add tax and tip. For a year’s worth of a bunch of ideas that is good value maybe. Good value maybe is usually a decent test for me. And my magazine subscriptions are at a low ebb having at least four named here lapse.

Ontario: Bar Volo, Yonge Street, Toronto

volo1The other day, when I did rock, we headed up Yonge Street in Toronto to finish the evening at Volo, a much discussed beer bar amongst the Bar Towelling set. With very good reason as well. While I wasn’t able to take my camera and get some shots, I can tell you that the place seats about 40, is something of a cheery jumble of mismatched antiques, plants and beer bottles and has the feel of rec room meeting a cafe. Certain Bear Republic quarts noted. Like a walk-in stash with knowledgable staff. Very nice and, frankly, a brave effort given the legal loops they must have to go through to amass the well chosen and properly handled collection. As a result, the prices are honest and sometimes even bracing but just don’t go every night and you will be OK, OK? Here are some directional hints for Volo.

We were not there for long but I got to try a few firsts. I had a bottle of the barley wine Fred by Hair of the Dog and my brother’s split a large La Chouffe. I also tried Church-Key Brewing’s new biere de garde on tap. I really wish I had had my camera as I remember looking at the chalk board thinking “they don’t make a BdG!?!” and here I am thinking that I am going to find a reference on the bar or brewer’s web site as to its existence and I find nothing. [Later: Bar Towel News Services has more on this new BdG. I think this is the style of the next two years.]

The Fred was a big rich ale, green hop and with chocolate notes in the malt supported by creamy yeast. In a way, a little light for a ten percent ale as it was neither hot or spicy. The La Chouffe was pear juicey cream rich and round with a nice burlappy hop. I also wrote parsley potato. I will leave you to judge the state of my note taking. La Chouffe is at the SAQ, Quebec’s government store, so if I have to do a trip east this summer, I may survive on a case picked up in Trois Riviere. The Church-Key was slightly uncious with a honest but sort of quiet spud peel biere de garde mouth feel. But it was also pale malt grainy making me think it was sort of like their stock ale with a healthy nod towards biere de garde. Milky yeast and soft water, low hopping and medium to low carbonation. If the brew actually exists, that is.
cwbeerEarlier in the day, pre-rocking, supper was a buffalo burger at C’est What, a great tap restaurant which I have written about before. My first beer was a Denison Weisse, a hefe of lemon cream cut by a swath of weedy seet hop greens. Lively and prickley carbonation and a really nice grainy wheat texture. I also had a Black Oak Nut Brown, a good honest pint of dusty cocoa with twig-green hop, a milky yeast and pale grain roughness. C’est What is a great comfy basement bar with that most excellent of seating technology, the sofa.

So all in all – with a stop at the Queen’s Quay LCBO with its well-stocked and staffed beer corner as well as a decent beer book find – it was a very successful beer related run into the Big Smoke.

Hall Of Fame

The other day when I did rock, I stood for a moment before the tour t-shirts and decided that, no, I would not buy one for 40 bucks even though there was a brown one with orange printing displaying the large Queen crest on the front. It was not that I would not have occassion to wear it or that I could not find the 40 bucks in the wallet. It was that I could not foresee it entering the hall of fame, that particular pile of t-shirts, soccer jerseys, ballcaps and hoodies that are retired from active use to be pulled out at the right moment years from now seemingly unworn yet displaying information from a point decades past.

There are not enough in the Hall of Fame as I was not as careful in the past as I might have been but that is no reason to judge unwisely and presume. That the 1988 Bill Bragg T is too thin now is testimony to its beauty. That the 1970s “Radio Sweden: Keep In Touch” T from high school is now appropriated by others does not mean its place on the shelf should now be filled by another. Yet entropy is and, despite best efforts, the temptation to wear causes wear and tear and, like ourselves, these things do fade. But for the decade, the brown Queen tour T with the orange ink may well have deserved the place in the pile.

Friday Later-Better-Than-Neverer Chat


Rocking for Al as excellently portrayed in today’s Star

Back. Just like that. Two hours and a bit ago I was in Toronto and now I am not. Intercity highways are the business:

  • Here is the question: Queen – yea or nay? The concert was good value. I realized along with the elder brothers that our Queen existed from 1973 to 1978 or so. The extended occupation with 80’s pop Queen was a bit wearying but there was enough of the 70s metalesque Queen to satisfy. This morning, under sunny sky scrapers, I bought Queen II, their 1974 version of Led Zep’s Houses of the Holy with its own take on the world of orcs and other LOTR-y-ness, at Sams on Yonge to honour my early teens properly. The role of Paul Rodgers, of Free and Bad Company, playing the role of Not Freddy was well done. He was on the stage 2/3s of the time with a tape of the late Fred doing half of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” At moments Rogers was like the dream of David Brent to be Paul Rogers fronting Queen in a reunion tour. But it was good as an expression of both pre-punk and 80s pop.
  • What else is going on? I have a sense that my NCAA picks are all wrong but I think I am one with all of North American manhood on that one.
  • Ze life sometimes provides somethings which better than trying to make up ze jokes.
  • Cambridge Suites in Toronto is a good place. It has all the things I like in a slightly more than cheapest place to crash. It actually has different little spaces so it is cheaper to put two brothers in one suite than getting two hotels rooms. It has a fridge and a bar fridge – one for my beer which is good and costs and honest price and one for their overly prices corn sugar buzz water. It is well located near C’est What (where I ate a burger with the meat of two mammals) and what other places people might like to go in Toronto. It is also a skip off the Don Valley Parkway, the parkway through the Valley of the Don, which makes it slightly like not being downtown in a bigger city.

Two more thoughts. I was impressed how the exposure of shoulder musculature was key to the entertainment experience at the concert. I was unimpressed how the lady in front of me – devoid of any sense of rhythm or shame as she was – had secretly for years harboured the secret love of “Radio Ga Ga” and unleashed her spastic passion therefore directly in front of me. I never knew there was something other than finding a cat air in one’s mouth that made one feel like one had found a cat hair in one’s mouth.