Debut Edition

On the Fly

Market Fears in Europe

French President Nicolas Sarkozy has implemented measures to battle what has now been officially labeled as a recession in France. Meanwhile, mounting pressures on British Prime Minister Gordon Brown to do likewise have led him to take an unorthodox approach to appease his critics. He has promised to invest millions into a plan to move the landmass of Great Britain closer to its most neighbourly continent. This proposition would transform the tedious two and a half hour ferry from Dover to Calais into a half hour ferry from Dover to New York City.

Harper Caught Again

Alarmingly, the Liberals have unearthed evidence of a third instance of Harper and his writing staff plagiarizing someone else's material. The speech in question is a soliloquy that was delivered by Harper in August 2006, which began, “Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this son of York”. What is more alarming than the fact that Harper is now accused of plagiarizing on three separate accounts is the fact that, until now, no one realized that he lifted this speech directly from the popular Canadian sitcom Corner Gas. While this has hurt Harper's chances in Ontario, it has bolstered his support in Quebec, as his apparent devotion to Corner Gas has made it clear that he does have an appreciation for the fine arts.

Insights Into Tasing Death

A BC man was killed last week after being tasered after falling through a window naked after being stabbed. Soon after the incident was made public, a police watchdog organization complained that the police should have used a less violent restraining tactic on the unarmed robbery suspect so as not to have killed the man. Police fired back, by stating that it may have been the stab wounds or the fall that killed him. This led the media to arrive at the deceased man's wife's original question, why the police tasered her dead naked husband.

Featured Reports

The Third Federal Leaders' Debate
By Funiculus Trent

Ever striving to thrust a well-bristled broom into the less-frequented corridors of Canadian politics, this correspondent was able to secure admission to the little-ballyhooed third federal leaders' debate, which permitted ordinary Canadians to gauge the candidates on a variety of central issues in the arts today. There were no television cameras, of course, CBC citing a lack of funding for the event, but I felt this added a certain thrilling immediacy. Here, close enough to smell it, was history being made.

I squeezed in between Chad Kroeger and a preoccupied-looking stack of Marshall McLuhans. Not a moment too soon, for our candidates were already arrayed around a rich mahogany table. On the left, Mr Harper sipped coffee and tried to ignore Mr Layton's rude napkin sketches; to the right, Mr Dion nursed a pint and played whist with a slightly glazed Mr Figueroa (the Communist leader having been invited for obvious reasons). Mr Duceppe, at the far right, quietly hummed Puccini and looked bored.

The host, in a gratifyingly post-structuralist move, asked not to be named in media accounts; I will refer to him merely as G. Stroumboulopoulos.

Stroumboulopoulos: In these times of economic uncertainty it is by no means short of a good idea to characterise precisely what Canadians mean by the devilish phrase "The Arts." Mr Dion?

Dion: By "The Arts," I believe that the typical Canadian would like to say, "Works Containing Ideas Or Aesthetic Worth Whose Value Does Not Stem Primarily From Their Purely Economic Value."

Stroumboulopoulos: Any problems there, Mr Layton? Mr Harper?

Layton: No, I think we can pretty much agree on that.

Harper: An admirably even-handed definition, Stephane.

Dion: Thank you, Stephen.

Stroumboulopoulos: Calm down, please, gentlemen. Now, each candidate will have 30 seconds to identify what, in his opinion, is the most pressing artistic question facing Canada at present. Let's start with Mr Layton.

Layton: Well, let's be honest with ourselves. It comes down to what Canadians are discussing around the dining room table: What is this government doing to ensure the continued health of artistic education? We have a tremendous network of community organisations, ready to train our youngsters, and a Harper administration that would entertain cutting their funding. It comes from a classist attitude that says the urban poor should content themselves with Ravel while the economic elite learn Beethoven. As prime minister I would set aside one billion dollars so that everyone can learn Beethoven.

Harper: That's simply pie-in-the-sky thinking, frankly. One billion dollars could fund universal Schubert at best, and you have to consider the importance of the visual and dramatic arts as well. There's only so much money to spend, Jack. No, this government sets priorities, and I think the track record shows my commitment to fighting the trend of our nation's galleries to embrace shallow and trendy gimmickry in place of challenging, spiritually enriching paintings. I hope I don't need to remind the audience that in thirteen years of Liberal administration, thirteen years, not a single motion was made toward selling off Voice of Fire, what a disaster that was.

Dion: I was intending to address myself to the Shakespeare Authorship Problem, and the public's right to know having been stifled at every turn by a ham-fisted administration, but...

[My heartfelt apologies, dear reader-- the McLuhans chose this critical juncture to topple headlong into the aisle, distracting me, and even with Mr Kroeger's swift assistance, by the time Mr McLuhans was returned to his seat the debate had become quite heated.]

Harper: As I was trying to say, I think Ms Atwood's endorsement is actually a strike against you, Gilles!

Dion: Now Steve, I know you have a soft spot for Findley, but--

Harper: Tim Findley has nothing to do with it, though now you mention it he has been undervalued. I'm just saying that, I mean, just because he has one heavyweight in his corner, he thinks he's untouchable.

Duceppe: You're just angry because you haven't thought of a decent English-language opera yet.

Harper: And I told you, I will as soon as you give me a French string quartet worth the name!

Stroumboulopoulos: We have to move on. Here's another question from an ordinary undecided voter.

O.U.V.: This question is for Mr Dion. As you know, it's very concerning that Canada hasn't produced an important poet for two generations. It's a matter of some contention I'll admit, but when I'm at Tim Hortons for my Thursday morning coffee and the talk turns to poetry, the consensus is always that nobody since Smith has quite lived up to the modernist promise. What will a Liberal government do to address this issue?

Dion: Well, let me first say that I think it's a very complicated and difficult problem, which we will certainly not be able to solve overnight. Perhaps even the defining challenge of the 21st century. And it demands action by everyone, everybody pitching in and doing his part without necessarily being rewarded by immediate results. We're looking into what we call a Meaning Shift, but there are no easy answers.

Harper: In other words, you have no platform except for what you've plagiaristically cobbled together out of Bloom. And it's all talk-- not he nor any of his school has put out even a sonnet's worth of pragmatic action.

Layton: Speaking of platforms, Steve, is yours hiding in your pocket there behind the opera glasses?

Figueroa: I think Canadians define Art as a mutable repository of the material expressions of class struggle, the locus for manifold instances of oppression ranging from the self-evident to the gnostically obscure, and the means by which ordinary Canadians daily repudiate the extinct notions of beauty and worth.

And it was with that entirely valid and inspiring dictum ringing in my ears, dear reader, that I rushed home to my beloved Epson and tapped out this little precis. I pray that, on the issues that count, it may make your decision just a little bit easier when you step into that booth on the 14th.

The Signs, from Bay Street
By Ayn Radcliffe

Prime Minister Harper and his Minister of Finance, Jim Flaherty, have made it clear that Canada, being quite unlike the United States, will not have to endure the same economic hardships as its southern neighbour. This stance has come under heavy scrutiny from, not only opposition leader Stephane Dion, but numerous economists and journalists as well. As for myself, I take it that we can learn more by reading the signs of Bay Street.

The signs tell many different stories. Understanding these stories can be incredibly difficult, however, given the nature of the postmodern era. The shape, colour and texture of a Bay Street sign depend entirely on which intersection you are basing your observation from. At times you may perceive that the sign consists wholly of white lettering on a blue background, surrounded by a perfectly rectangular frame. But then, finding yourself in the context of, say, Yorkville, the sign takes on an entirely different form. The inherent simplicity of the blue and white parallelogram is replaced by an abomination that cannot be described by any self-respecting Kantian. The sign, which was once an end in itself in its rectangular, a priori form, has been corrupted by the forces of postmodern superfluity into an object of dubious value. The street signs of Bay Street have fallen into a dismal state indeed, having been constructed upon hypothetical imperatives.

But looking deeper than the superficial street signs, you see the signs of Toronto's financial core. Within the bowels of the Toronto Stock Exchange, hither, thither and every whither are the last bastions of the Enlightenment: the financial tickers. Glowing nuggets of data waltz across the ticker screens, one after the other, in perfect harmony. One can hear Tchaikovsky or Strauss floating above the mind-numbing crowds of materialists. I shed three or four categorical tears as I strolled through the TSE, proclaiming aloud, “If ever hath there been a kingdom of ends, then this be it!”

The mystifying aesthetics of the ticker are determined by their service to the practical function of sending data to the optical nerve in the most efficient fashion. Hence, we have arrived at a near perfect demonstration of the categorical imperative; it is upon this that I make my economic prognosis.

Given an unproductive second quarter in Ontario, Canada's reliance on trade with the US, and the bursting of the commodity bubble, a deep recession is inescapable for Canadians. It would seem that even the meddlesome street signs of Bay Street unequivocally state to Canadians: No left turns – buses excepted.

In Other News...

As reported by Julian Fox

Stephane Dion Admits Lack of Clairvoyance in Green Shift

Chest-deep in concerns about his ability to lead the country through the “global recession,” Stephane Dion admitted yesterday that if he could have predicted that everyone would stop giving a shit about the environment because a few banks shit the bed he may not have built his campaign around his Green Shift program.

Dion was visibly frustrated – Conservative pundits predicted that he was about to cry – as he stumbled through the following during a campaign stop in British Columbia, “People these days, they don't really believe in anything. The environment seemed like the thing, you know? I couldn't have predicted the market collapse. I'm not psychic. Now nobody gives two shits about the Earth. What am I supposed to do?”

Liberal poll numbers fell sharply after Mr. Dion's comments, largely due to Conservative attack ads aimed at spreading the word that the Liberal leader is in fact incapable of predicting the future. When asked, during a campaign stop in Manitoba, if the Conservative party possessed some magical scrying orb Prime Minister Stephan Harper replied smugly, “Of course we can predict the future. There will be unstable times for a while, and the best course will be sensible monetary policies.” Asked for proof of this fortune-telling ability and clarification of the terms 'unstable times' and 'sensible policies,' Stephan Harper directed interested parties towards his party's economic platform. Unfortunately, said platform has so far only been made available to those who can see into the future.

Elizabeth May Drugs National Leaders

Careful observers of last Thursday's Leaders' Debate no doubt noted the kissing frenzy that erupted between Green Party Leader Elizabeth May and her opponents at the tail-end of the broadcast. Relieved to be leaving one another's company and the smell of cat urine that permeated the debate table, the male leaders, even Prime Minister Stephen Harper, crawled and elbowed their way one by one to plant Miss May on both cheeks.

Seemingly unafraid of parading his European tendencies in the face of blue collar Canadian voters, Stephane Dion walked away from Miss May grinning and tongueing himself like a talking horse. Jack Layton followed stiffly, beginning the exchange with the declaration “Jack Layton's going to kiss you,” and proving himself a man of his word. Gilles Duceppe seemed concilatory as he accepted sloppy-thirds and a compliment on his pretty blue eyes and Stephan Harper brought up the rear and in doing so received the smallest unannounced dose of powdered MDMA.

Later, after reports from all parties of tribal rhythms and purposeful grunts heard through heavy oak doors, it came to light that Miss May's cheeks had been lightly dusted with the popular party drug in an act of guerrilla assault perpetrated by slightly effeminate make-up artist, James Dewford. When reached for comment, Miss May, managed only to repeat “Really? Come on, no way. Really?” several times before shaking her head disbelievingly and walking away.

Unaware they had been drugged, the various leaders' vibrations manifested themselves in wildly dissimilar ways. Concerned Ottawa residents Harold and Maria Schuen were awakened sometime before dawn by the sound of shattering glass and loud music coming from their living-room. Descending the stairs with a baseball bat, Mr. Schuen narrowly avoided caving in the skull of Conservative Leader Stephan Harper, whom he found fingering crude erotic illustrations into his carpet with Nutella. Smiling, his teeth gummed over with hazelnut-spread, Mr. Harper told Mr. Schuen he “finally got it,” and “it makes perfect sense.” What Mr. Harper was referring to remains unclear, but his poll numbers have improved in Quebec, ostensibly as a result of his new found interest in the arts.

Jack Layton sustained several deep lacerations to his hands and genitals after attempting to subdue and mount his own reflection in a glass surface of some kind. What exactly the surface was has yet to be made public, but preliminary reports allege it was the sliding glass door of a Home Depot located somewhere on the outskirts of Ottawa. The quickly circulated rumour that Layton's injuries were sustained in an attempt to nuzzle up to the big box stores seems to have alienated him somewhat from NDP faithful – that or he just came off like a prick in the debate.

Stephane Dion spent the night at home quietly voicing his hatred of that weird little rapist's half-smile Stephan Harper always gives him to his wife over cups of tea. In time he became highly emotional and spent a restless night enduring nervous digestive issues.

After making his only campaign stop outside of Quebec, speaking at the Economic Club of Toronto on the subject of “susstenble devlopment” - a move many attribute to the lasting effects of the drugs in his system – Gilles Duceppe ran off into the night. As of the time of this writing he is still missing and presumed to have the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen.

James Dewford, the perpetrator of the crime, was whipped to death on the front lawn of Parliament Hill for making a mockery of the dignity of Canadian politics. It is unclear whether his death was intentional or an unforeseen side-effect of an otherwise harmless public whipping.

Cindy McCain Thankful for Her Retired Captain's Retired Captain

Cindy McCain, second wife of former prisoner of war John McCain, was reportedly overheard praising her husband's unruly genitals in a recent organized press event. “Can you imagine that on top of you?” Interested parties heard Mrs. McCain ask Ms. Rachel Linder's second grade homeroom class at Whispering Valleycrest Public School during a routine photo opportunity Friday. “I'm just glad his dick don't work no more, it'd be like huggin' off a corpse.”

Following these unscripted remarks, Mrs. McCain was engulfed by handlers and whisked from the school grounds and into the trunk of a waiting blue and tan 1987 Ford LTD Crown Victoria. Pressed for comment Whispering Valleycrest's principal, Leslie Spears, described Mrs. McCain's remarks as containing “little educational value as measured against the District of Columbia Schoolboard's current curriculum.”

Largely suppressed in mainstream media outlets the story has received sparse attention. In the small reaction the slip-up has prompted Repulican hardliners seem optimistic about the effect of Mrs. McCain's comments as they are sure to spare voters still left on the fence the off-putting task of picturing Mr. and Mrs. McCain having sex. Sources close to the McCain campaign have indicated that there was some concern potential supporters could be scared off by the thought of regularly seeing the McCains on television should their bid for the White House prove successful – risking accidentally picturing the couples' horribly incongruous bodies nude and pressed against each other with each appearance.

Less optimistic pundits have pointed out that picturing Mr. McCain wet-noodling Mrs. McCain could be even worse, while most have chosen not to comment.

Questioned on the matter during a campaign stop in Rogersville, Tennessee, McCain's rival, Illinois Senator Barack Obama paused thoughtfully, as if dredging his inner-depths, before answering, “I'm glad you asked that question. It seems to me that if Senator McCain cannot even be depended upon to remain accountable for his own genitals, it would be a mistake to assume he can be accountable for his actions as President of the United States.” Mr. Obama later jokingly advised his opponent to “just offer [his] dick a tax cut.” Which killed. It got really big laughs.

Though Mrs. McCain has yet to re-emerge into the public eye, several of the children she potentially scarred have given interviews – seemingly at the behest of parents eager to watch their kids on television. This reporter's discerning judgment was all that was needed to see that most of the kids had been coached, save for 8 year old Robbie Fishmon who said that he “wasn't really paying attention” and that Mrs. Mccain “smelled like plastic flowers.”

Turns Out Obama Too Good To Be True

After months of exhaustive study the Center for Democratic Policy, a well-known Washington think-tank, has proven that Senator Barack Obama is indeed too good to be true and does not actually exist. In a statement released to the press early last week, the Center drew comparisons between Mr. Obama and Santa Claus or God, “Though he does not actually exist, collective belief in his existence allows him to appear to exist.”

The statement went on to conclude that “should the people of the world cease believing in Senator Obama's existence, he would immediately disappear.”

Exactly five days after the statement was published, seemingly when even those most dedicated to ignorance had learned of it, Mr. Obama completely vanished from the face of the Earth.

Leaping at the chance, Cindy McCain called a press conference to point out that Michelle Obama was “now just another black, single mother.” Mrs. Obama's crushing grief seems to have delayed any sort of sassy, black-woman comeback.

And on that note...

We hope that you enjoyed the debut edition of our journal. Stay tuned for next week's edition, in which we shall ask the critical questions of our era, and then answer them with more questions, and then more questions after that, ad infinitum, until we finally get tired and plagiarize Baudelaire, or something. You won't want to miss it.