Does anyone remember Meryn Cadell, the Canadian singer and performance artist who rose to public prominence back in 1992 with the radio-friendly spoken word hit "The Sweater"? (Buried in a box somewhere in my parents' basement lies an abandoned cassette of Cadell's album "Angel Food for Thought").

Today on CBC Radio I heard an interview with Cadell, and I couldn't help but notice that her once lovely, lilting voice had deepened remarkably. Apparently, in 2004 Cadell came out as a transsexual man (i.e. female-to-male).

Huh. It's a funny old world, ain't it? Well, my hats off to her, ummm, him. That takes guts.

Here's a link to Cadell online journal, if you're interested: http://www.meryncadell.com/journal/

Ah, Michael Moore. I truly am an avid fan of your documentaries, though sometimes even I wish you'd shut the f*ck up. However, when you're on you're really, really on. Case in point:

(from Michael Moore's web site http://www.michaelmoore.com)

"Friday, January 20th, 2006

Michael Moore Statement on Canadian Election

Michael Moore is currently in production on his next movie. As an avid lover of all things Canadian, he has issued the following statement regarding Canada's upcoming election on Monday:

Oh, Canada -- you're not really going to elect a Conservative majority on Monday, are you? That's a joke, right? I know you have a great sense of humor, and certainly a well-developed sense of irony, but this is no longer funny. Maybe it's a new form of Canadian irony -- reverse irony! OK, now I get it. First, you have the courage to stand against the war in Iraq -- and then you elect a prime minister who's for it. You declare gay people have equal rights -- and then you elect a man who says they don't. You give your native peoples their own autonomy and their own territory -- and then you vote for a man who wants to cut aid to these poorest of your citizens. Wow, that is intense! Only Canadians could pull off a hat trick of humor like that. My hat's off to you.

Far be it from me, as an American, to suggest what you should do. You already have too many Americans telling you what to do. Well, actually, you've got just one American who keeps telling you to roll over and fetch and sit. I hope you don't feel this appeal of mine is too intrusive but I just couldn't sit by, as your friend, and say nothing. Yes, I agree, the Liberals have some 'splainin' to do. And yes, one party in power for more than a decade gets a little... long. But you have a parliamentary system (I'll bet you didn't know that -- see, that's why you need Americans telling you things!). There are ways at the polls to have your voices heard other than throwing the baby out with the bath water.

These are no ordinary times, and as you go to the polls on Monday, you do so while a man running the nation to the south of you is hoping you can lend him a hand by picking Stephen Harper because he's a man who shares his world view. Do you want to help George Bush by turning Canada into his latest conquest? Is that how you want millions of us down here to see you from now on? The next notch in the cowboy belt? C'mon, where's your Canadian pride? I mean, if you're going to reduce Canada to a cheap download of Bush & Co., then at least don't surrender so easily. Can't you wait until he threatens to bomb Regina? Make him work for it, for Pete's sake.

But seriously, I know you're not going to elect a guy who should really be running for governor of Utah. Whew! I knew it! You almost had me there. Very funny. Don't do that again. God, I love you, you crazy cold wonderful neighbors to my north. Don't ever change.

Michael Moore

(Mr. Moore is not available for interviews because he now needs to address the situation in Azerbaijan. But he could be talked into it for a couple of tickets to a Leaf's game.) "

As the old saying goes: if you can't dazzle them with your brilliance, you can baffle them with your bullshit. This statement can be applied most notably to the "artist's statement". For those not familiar with this format, an artist's statement is generally a one-page explanation offered up by a visual artist to give context to a body of work. As most visual artists are horrendous writers incapable of identifying the subject of any given sentence, the artist's statement has become the bane of curators and art juries alike. Here's an example that found it's way into my inbox the other day. The names of the guilty parties have been removed:

"Nameless Artist's new series of paintings at Nameless Gallery explores a relationship between figurative and abstraction in an attempt to meld archetypal probing and emotional automatism with a meditative figural base. His figures seem situated in some brightly coloured realm that is both landscape and mindscape. Iconic strawberries and near invisible scrawlings of a lucky Chinese cat blend with globs of pastel coloured drips and homages to Vermeer and Ingres. Reflective gazes shine out from atmospheric tints toward colour fields, graffiti-like paint stick smears, and varied brushstrokes."

Ummmmm....wha? Surely this artist's statement alone is proof that this poor painter desperately requires better ventilation in his studio. Inhaling all those nasty solvents has clearly taken a toll.

Friday night in early January. Baby is sleeping soundly in crib, so no chance of going out. Nothing on the idiot box but fat, bored, middle-aged married couples with cellulite getting flogged. No, seriously. This is the new low into which television has sank. Hey, I'm all for sexual emancipation, but couldn't the sexually emancipated (on TV) be slimmer, younger and lacking in bum acne or cellulite? Is that so much to ask?

Ah well. I'm feeling kinda ... blech. I suspect that it's these unrelenting grey, overcast skies contributing to the general malaise of my soul. Oooohhhhh, I like the sound of that -- malaise of the soul -- sounds like a phrase borrowed from a nineteenth-century romantic novel in which some unfortunate heroine dies of consumption or goes mad and wanders about on the moors.

Shit. I must be bored. Here's something that's sure to lift my spirits: a photo of my kiddo. Oh yeah, I can hear ya'll groaning behind your respective keyboards. I don't care if I've transformed into one of those parents who brattles on obsessively about her child. Shut up.

Ridley in his Che Guevara bodysuit. I wonder what Ernesto the Marxist revolutionary would make of the fact that I shelled out $35 for an article of baby clothing emblazoned with his image? Ironic? I'd say. In fact, I came across an interesting article that addressed the controversy felt by Cuban-Americans surrounding the pop culture use of the Guevara image. Here's an excerpt:

"Ernesto "Che" Guevara's face is a familiar one around the world, stamped on shirts, hats, postcards, lighters and other items. To some, the famous picture of the revolutionary with the beret, long hair, scraggly moustache and faraway gaze, symbolizes idealism and rebellion. To many Cuban exiles, however, he's a ruthless killer who helped establish a totalitarian regime in their homeland."

Hmmm, seems like they have a valid point. Still, knowing what I know about Guevara (which admittedly is more than most, but still not much) I chose to buy this baby bodysuit. Evil capitalist swine that I am.

While pushing the stroller along Queen Street East the other day, I came across a t-shirt in a store window with the familiar Che Guevara image. This particular t-shirt took the irony a step further with a caption underneath Che which read: "I don't know who this is". It just killed me.

Babyzilla ushers in the year 2006 with a snowsled ride. Although this photo may not entirely testify to this fact, but beneath those many layers of winter gear, there sits a happy and contented baby. He may not be able to move his limbs too much, but he's happy.