Generation A

Just listened to an excellent interview with Douglas Copeland , regarding his new book, Generation A. He talked about how the printed word turned us into individuals, opening the door for Freud and Marx (bit of irony there). Think about all the hours most of us have spent alone, with books.
Earlier, I heard an ad from the sessional faculty at U of T, begging us to call the provost and tell him to start paying them more than $15,000 a year each for teaching 30 percent of the student body. Most have PhDs. The ad validated my decision to leave graduate school in 1970 because I felt stuck in a feudal institution based on sucking up to arrogant professors who could destroy you for no reason whatsoever. Think about it. If these students weren't hoping for tenure, they would tell the university to take those jobs and shove them. There would be no need to strike. Graduate students are powerless, and they accept that servitude for the promise of long term reward. Imagine an entire group of contract faculty quitting in the middle of the school year. Walking out with no intention of coming back. Unlike York, which locked out the students for almost an entire semester, the UofT would have no alternative but to hire a new group of feudal teaching peasants. Call the U of T provost, but call the Sessional Bargaining group and tell them to grow some backbone.

Impersonal Influence

As a young student, I read the classic, Personal Influence (PI) , which explained the power of interpersonal relationships on individual preferences and choices. Mostly though, it explained the power of sitting, standing, walking next to someone who was paying full attention to you. I remember the power of impersonal influence (ii) all too well. Watching my mother spend hours happily talking to friends on the telephone, I felt unimportant until I was old enough to have a phone of my own. So I ran to the tv where all my tv friends seemed happy to "see" me. Or to tv family shows where everyone cared about one another--especially "I Remember Mama".
Personal influence has, in my humble opinion, devolved to the point where any entertainer has power over us. Teachers, doctors, police, lawyers, all have to compete with their scripted counterparts, most of whom SEEM to care more for us than their real life counterparts. Impersonal influences have great personal influence. Even if a child has had a nanny or daycare most of their lives, a tv show has filled the parental void. Later, everyone learns that their real home is in their workplace, surrounded by real friends.
Uber-capitalist Donald Trump instills the love of capitalism and fear of failure in us all; while young folk desperately compete for jobs at coffee shops. Grey's Anatomy (public hospital chaos) is followed by Private Practice (duh..) in a not so subtle anti public health care partnership. TV as pseudo-personal influence. So I think I can dance? I used to. That was before Tara Jean put me to shame. On the other hand, if you can dance like Vincent, please contact me immediately.

Dear Barack and Joe

I love it when I get those personal emails from both of you about burning issues in the United States. And you know I've always rallied to your cause. Now it is my turn to ask for your help. For the last 20 years since my uncle was murdered in the Dominican Republic, I have been cheated out of a multimillion dollar inheritance by a series of Dominican lawyers and suspicious international "businessmen" (very much like the New Jersey mafia I grew up with). In my more paranoid moments, I have wondered whether word went out in May of 1989 from the Balaguer government (who may have had my uncle killed) to make sure that Ingrid Philipp, with her dangerously democratic politic history, did not inherit a cent.
How can you help? The "businessman" who stole my preferred shares in Sosua Bay Resort, has gone public with a venture called Caribbean Casino & Gaming. He seems to have built quite an empire on the North Coast of the Dominican Republic, based on the theft of my preferred shares. I'd like you to direct the Securities and Exchange Commission to investigate the group, and its two principals--Armando Casciati and Steven Swank. I'm sure you are aware of the value of casinos to organized crime. In the event that you recover any of my family's monies, I'd be glad to make a more significant contribution than the $100 I contributed to your last campaign.
You might also want to investigate how much money the operations of this group are draining out of the American economy. Yours truly in the battle for truth and justice, Ingrid Philipp
cc: Wall Street Journal

Calling all journalists

Yesterday, I received a message about my Dominican (haha) estate that wasn't at all funny. Because this is a legal issue, I am going to attribute all alleged actions. If I don't say "alleged", I can personally testify to the fact.
Background: My uncle, Thomas Philipp was murdered in his Larimar penthouse apartment in 1989. Two months earlier, my uncle told me he feared for his life at the hands of a Hungarian mobster who called himself Tomas Reinis. The Dominican government at the time was Balaguer, a blind puppet of numerous interests. Balaguer backed Reinis fully, and my uncle's murder was ruled "accidental". Ten years later, the original coroner testified on my behalf that my uncle's death was not accidental. The ten year statute to prosecute expired on May 16 of this year.
Fast forwarding past two sets of inept or criminally negligent lawyers (Kaplan, Russin, Herredia; Jesus Garcia Tallaj):.
The estate is broke, trying to maintain Jesus Garcia Tallaj (our lawyer by duress) and his mother and ex-wives. We agree to an offer of 1.2 million for one of our hotels. We net about 300K, and take back preferred shares in Sosua Bay Resort for the remainder. One  partner in Sosua Bay, Armando Casciati, soon claims that our preferred shares belong to him. I laugh, because we have proof. He, however, is able to convince a Dominican Court that my forged signature on the shares means that the shares belong to him. We are assured us that all will be well if we trust in lawyer Sonia Uribe.
But (allegedly) Casciati is able to bribe the Puerto Plata judges to accept his ownership of our preferred shares.
Fast, fast forward to 2009. we are notified that Sonia is now working for Armando to steal yet another hotel my uncle built.  Tell me, what's a good Dominican-American-Canadian girl to do in these circumstances?

The Expressway No One Talks About

This morning I crossed Kingston Road at Main to purchase my usual hit of caffeine. At 8 a.m. Kingston is a constant stream of fast moving traffic that bears no relation to the posted speed limit. The smell is of diesel: buses, trucks, with the occasional pathetic street car. I crossed carefully to avoid cars making right and left hand turns in all directions. I've never seen a radar trap or police car there.
When I returned home this evening, there was a police car closing off Kingston Road to the west of Main. The line ups were long. There had been an accident at 3 p.m, but no details were available as of 10:30 p.m. Talk on the street was that a senior had been hurt, maybe killed. Everyone was wondering if it was a neighbour.
The Toronto Star reported on the several other accidents. It usually does--even if the name cannot be revealed. My bet is that accidents on Kingston are seldom reported. Kingston has become the unofficial continuation of the Lakeshore--The Scarborough Expressway. If people knew how dangerous the street has become; how unpatrolled, it wouldn't be good for real estate values in the Upper Beach. The radar cars hang out on the Danforth, usually after 8, so they can catch docile soccer moms who do 70 instead of 50. Meanwhile, down on Kingston, the deadly races continue.

Sitting ducks

Dear Parents of College Age Students
I notice there is an entire growth industry devoted to mining your fears about your college age children. Please be aware that You are Being Exploited. Your children will succeed or fail depending on your previous experience with them. Other than warning them that you will not be please if they screw up their first semester, leave them alone. The idea of university is Separation--not Lifelong dependence. If they get depressed, or sick, make sure they contact Student Health. Have them talk to their professors if they are screwing up. The idea is to get them to stand on their own two feet--not to have you as props. Freshman year should hurt. Separation should occur. All the rest is exploitation of you as parents.

Talking about music

Writing about music is as futile as writing about sex. Talking about music, however is just fine. Dreaming about talking about music is weird, but powerful. Last night that's exactly what I did. I was talking my way out of getting fired from my teaching job at Seneca, when I gave the lecture of my life. About music. Only music, I said, allows people to escape from stereotype and tell their real stories, and feelings. In my dream I said much more, comparing music to other forms of popular culture where stereotypes rule--illusions that we buy into of ER rooms going to any extreme to help us, and treat us like humans, ditto for CSI (as we learned from the recent kidnapping where no one investigated the sex offender who did it. Jesus, don't they know that step one is to find out what sex offenders are living in the area). But what really grabbed my audience in the dream is when I broke into song. Even my cruel boss had tears in her eyes. Wish I could remember the song. Some astute readers are going to point out how stereotypical many of today's singers and acts are. I'm not advocating anything about the great pop music machine. It squeezes women into stereotype. Some escape, and they are worth talking about.