The Toronto Star, where I wrote a how-to-get-online column before, during, and after the historical moment when the Web was invented, is sinking millions into a “tablet app,” as they consistently misname it. This project, which could cost the company $9 million, involves licensing an iPad (not “tablet”) app from La Presse.
It also involves hiring an army of hacks, editors, developers, designers, and ad-floggers. But, they’ve made it clear, under no circumstances whatsoever will the Star hire me.
Now: Why would they? Apart from the fact I actually am part of the Star “family,” albeit one who only shows up at Thanksgiving and expects Tofurky and vegan gravy, and apart from the further fact that I essentially learned my craft at the feet of Sid Adilman, I am now the last developer left in Toronto with standards-compliance and accessibility knowledge. I told you already who the second-last was. I further am the only one who is an accomplished journalist and editor with 30 years’ typography knowledge.
The Star needs me because its technical infrastructure is seriously broken. [continue with “Don’t expect to be taken seriously by the ‘Toronto Star’” →]
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.09.02 12:29. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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I guess that word would be “hypocrisy.”
The No Safe Word show used to be my favourite podcast, even after they lampooned my fact-checking their asses about Jian Ghomeshi. (That actually happened. I remember listening to it on a grey day while walking up to St. Clair.) This weekly show bundles eldergays, gay “kink,” plagiarism, and LGBT groupthink into one amusing package. On each episode, hosts Daddy Tony Gerald and Pup Sparky, one of them a ginger, trade bons mots for a while; plug the only sponsor they’ll ever have, Mr. S Leather; rip-and-read gay news articles without attribution, at breakneck speed, with rampant fumbles and speech errors; then interview a special guest with poor audio quality and noticeable Internet latency, the technique of the double-ender unknown to these radio greenhorns. What’s not to like, though, really?
The show became a Saturday-morning staple for me. I skipped the plagiarism and chuckled quietly to myself as I sashayed down the boulevard enjoying the feature interview. I listened to many archived episodes, often while carrying out the gay kink of ironing my shirts.
After a while, I got tired of the LGBT party line these self-sabotaging eldergays were offering. So, with full knowledge of the risks involved, I fucked these queens without a condom and posted a query on their Facebook:
If I understand the lessons of the last year’s episodes: FTMs are “our brothers” despite being female; deranged tranny activists are right and justified to protest a movie they haven’t seen (that would be Stonewall) on the basis of the lie that “transwomen of colour” are the ones who “led” the Stonewall “Riot,” as by “throwing the first brick”; it’s just a tremendous advance for us all that a pup titleholder is a girl; and, according to your guest Mr. Friendly, HIV-negative men do not really exist. Yet at the same time, the weirdest thing you ever heard on your show, which is all about “kink,” was a guy doing a woman.
Since you two hosts are gay men, as are essentially all of your listeners, what really are you offering at any philosophical or practical level for actual gay men? (Hint: “Gay men” do not have vaginas and mastectomy scars.)
Aaand what do you think happened? These guys pulled a Jesse Brown and devoted an entire segment to making fun of me. Of course I only listened to the last five seconds of it, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the No Safe Word show, it’s to avoid self-harm.
But yes, Tony and Sparky really do think “transmen” are male and are “our brothers.” They supported deranged tranny activists’ Last Temptation of Christ–style protesting of a movie they have not seen – on the basis of historical lies, as one expects from transgenders, who cannot even tell you the truth about their genitalia for starters. The only gay fetish with a sense of humour, “pup play,” should naturally welcome a girl into its midst, which I guess is like nominating a 350-pound male as “Ms” Leather Toronto.
Mr. Friendly bills itself as a “grassroots” education campaign that aims to stamp out “HIV stigma,” i.e., any attempt by HIV-negative gay men to assert their absolute legal and bodily right not to get fucked bareback by positoids. On Episode 104, the No Safe Word eldergays hosted Mr. Friendly originator Dave Watt, who has learned nothing of the lessons of Walt Odets and believes HIV-negative men do not exist.
“I mean there’s the undetectable poz and the PrEP neg are the only two true status that are nontransmittable that you can be confident,” i.e., negative HIV test results are lies (1:01:10).
WATT: If you test negative… you can actually have a viral load that is going to spike the highest of your life, with like over a million copies of the virus per millilitre…. It’s very possible you could have a huge viral load and yet you’re confident that you’re negative, you know, because you just tested negative, and you put on your profile “I’m negative. I tested today negative,” you know.
UNDIFFERENTIABLE L.G.B.T. HOST: It is kind of amazing the number of people who think an HIV test is a shield….
— Testing for HIV is not prevention.
Making positive men feel good about being positive isn’t “prevention” either. The sole goal of HIV prevention is to keep negative people negative.
In other words, “testing for HIV” is believable only if you come back positive, and at that point no HIV-negative man can say or do anything that you classify as “stigma.” That veto power is familiar from the transgender talking point of “the cotton ceiling,” the compulsory heterosexuality dressed up in drag that calls lesbians misogynist for naturally refusing to have sex with males.
According to Watt and the No Safe Word podcast, HIV-negative gay men are simply never ever supposed to have a desire not to engage in sex with positoids, express that desire in public, or act on it. Because that amounts to “stigma,” and, while negative men have no right to do whatever it takes to stay negative, positive men can insist on any infringement of negatoids’ rights under the guise of avoiding “stigma.” (I asked a question via Mr. Friendly’s contact form months ago about its position on negative HIV tests – and got no response.) Again, this seems a lot like transgenders rewriting gay as trans and calling us their oppressor.
Let me sum up again what No Safe Word stands for:
gay-male kink, where “gay male” includes ”transmen” and women in gay-male sexual environments
plagiarism of online news sources
protesting artistic works one has not yet seen on the basis of known falsehoods
public ridicule of informed critics who are also big fans of the show
This is the sort of hypocrisy that leads to doxxing, not that I could be bothered. By the hosts’ own admission, they hold down social-service jobs in Cascadia; their employers might be sex-positive enough to turn a blind eye toward running a gay-kink podcast, but would they react so calmly to use of that bully pulpit for actual bullying? Let’s put their bosses on the show and ask. (Or put me on and see if these guys can keep up.)
As I keep telling you, queer wants gay dead and is getting its wish. Through their LGBT podcast pretending to be about, by, and for gay men, Daddy Tony Gerald and Pup Sparky are hastening our demise – and theirs.
See you at Pup Night at the Eagle, where, incidentally, I gots my own pack.
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.08.29 13:09. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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I met Mr. SCOTT BOMS in some guise during the doomed abortive run of Webstandards.TO, the social club I formed for Toronto standardistas that finally once and for all taught me I am much too unpopular to start any club. Scott is a highly competent designer–developer, a combination that, like accessibility designers, no longer exists. He is, further, well versed in typography.
Scott and I worked like dogs to give an adequately researched presentation at another failed enterprise (this one not my own), BookCamp, in 2010. Just now I found the handout I gave to members of the audience, who later took to Twitter to shit all over me.
Scott’s wee office was just down the road from me, and I visited him a couple of times. He very compassionately listened to me and rubbed my shoulder. I remember a separate creative-luncheon kind of meet-’n’-greet held at his office that was visibly uncomfortable for everyone and – again – resulted in my character’s being assassinated the minute I left the place. (I distinctly recall Ben Lucier, even then fully weaponized, as the aggressor. He aptly describes himself on Twitter as a “hooligan” and has failed upward to New York, as natural a home for bullies as Twitter itself.)
Scott is a tiny, perfect graphic-designer type, with no gut, impeccable casual clothing, and an abundance of children. (Graphic designers, like Mormons, are outbreeding the Muslims.) A tidy masculine model comparable to that of the Mormons, who themselves are often good designers (no religion has better graphics). Scott lived one or two neighbourhoods over, and I kept not quite understanding his messages on Twitter about selling his house, then finding a rental house to live in. I was then equally baffled by a reference to San Francisco, and seemingly a moment later I realized Scott had left Toronto for Facebook.
When he did so, Toronto lost its second-last standardista and the very last accessibility‑ and standards-aware graphic designer. I didn’t blame him. While it costs a fortune to live there, even without asking I know he’s earning a fortune. Toronto is too second-rate, and too hostile to expertise, and too hostile for a designer to raise children in.
I have followed Scott onliné since he left. Apart from masterminding typography at a venture that appears to have nothing of the sort, he spends his days in a garage on the Back 40 of the Facebook compound hand-painting signs for an Honest Ed’s of the imagination.
He got out just in time.
When I tell disbelieving-antagonistic-uncongenial-hostile interlocutors that I am the last standardista standing in Toronto, I mean Scott was second-last. He is also the second-last man I knew personally who took me seriously. I’ve got one left.
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.08.28 14:55. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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Two observations by Mike Daisey about being the object of gleeful public pillorying (as found in JON·RON·SON’s book; second quotation from his blog):
The way we construct consciousness is to tell the story of ourselves to ourselves, the story of who we believe we are. I feel that a really public shaming or humiliation is a conflict between the person trying to write his own narrative and society trying to write a different narrative for the person. One story tries to overwrite the other. And so, to survive, you have to write your own story. Or you write a third story. You react to the narrative that’s been forced upon you.
You have to find a way to disrespect the other narrative. If you believe it, it will crush you.
It feels like they want an apology, but it’s a lie.
It’s a lie because they don’t want an apology. An apology is supposed to be a communion – a coming-together. For someone to make an apology someone has to be listening. They listen and you speak and there’s an exchange. That’s why we have a thing about accepting apologies….
But they don’t want an apology. What they want is my destruction. What they want is for me to die. They will never say this because it’s too histrionic. But they never want to hear from me again for the rest of my life, and while they’re never hearing from me they have the right to use me as a cultural reference point whenever it services their ends. That’s how it would work out best for them. They would like me to never speak again. I’d never had the opportunity to be the object of hate before. The hard part isn’t the hate. It’s the object.
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.08.28 14:04. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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Walking down to the Carlton, whose showing of They Live I had managed to miss, I passed an apartment building with a well-made sign. Enamelled steel? I wondered, getting right up to it. No, just Tremclad. Then I felt the raised lettering (plastic), and walked away while wondering if the font was Thesis. No, Cæcilia, I realized instantly without looking back.
I saw the trailer for an upcoming film in which a Eurasian-American actor affects an ungodly French accent and plans a daring caper that would have him walk between towers of the World Trade Center across a thin cable. That’s just Man on Wire, I thought at once.
I put these two instances together and realized that all the knowledge and experience I accumulated over a lifetime are, like that lifetime, now worthless.
I then watched Best of Enemies, a documentary about a lost era of popular television intellectuals, both now deceased.
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.08.27 12:05. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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After being told over and over again that there were actual scandals to be exposed at Pink Triangle Press, Jesse Brown decided to let a former paid employee of Xtra write a loving farewell to the “gay and lesbian” newspaper chain that had folded six months previous. And that farewell letter was barely distinguishable from a piece that same Millennial hack, Erica Lenti, had written for RRJ in January.
Lenti made good use of Brown’s credulousness, willingness to backstab, and malign ignorance of the actual gay and lesbian press. She joined a list of other journos who recited approved bromides about all the good work Xtra did that we will all now surely miss.
To dumb Millennial hacks, Xtra is a cherished cornerstone of our diverse “LGBTQ” communities. Its most important feature was its “pink” (actually fuchsia) streetcorner newspaper box. These hacks are very concerned about the elimination of the container that held Xtra rather than Xtra itself, which I am sure they never read. (Can you imagine hetero hacks pulling out a copy of Xtra from a streetcorner newspaper box in broad daylight?)
The “pink” newspaper boxes were held up as a form of “visibility.” Fags holding hands in public is visibility; newspaper boxes are “unregulated, multi-hued hunks of metal.”
Every obituary for the printed Xtra that I read was premised on an idealized (this means false) conception of the paper. These hacks either have not actually read Xtra in recent years or are lying about it.
Matthew Hays, an Xtra contributor who did not answer my questions, wrote in the Globe: “All it takes is for one election to provide us with politicians hostile to the idea of a rainbow flag in a public square, and we’re back to square one,” despite the Constitution and established legal precedent. “For those reasons it is imperative that we have a press for and by Canada’s evolving queer communities.” (A press. Just one. As we’ve always had.)
Though I wasn’t quoted, my acquaintance James Dubro canvassed my opinions for an article in Now that was toothless and wilfully ignorant by any standard. “For many is disappointing and sad… because of the loss of visibility in the streets.” (That soon became the talking point for dumb Millennial hacks and for Craig Takeuchi in Vancouver.)
Toronto’s bien-pensant media intelligentsia want Xtra’s “pink” newspaper boxes back; what they don’t want is the task of investigating Xtra. When challenged, Lenti, via top-posted E‑mail, asked me what I would have written. Here it is. [continue with “The dumb Millennial’s guide to ‘Xtra’” →]
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.08.24 16:17. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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Brian Abrams has written a classic of the oral-history genre, this time on Kindle and about Gawker. Mr. SICHA:
There’s a huge male energy that’s a sort of muscularity that I like about Gawker. It’s brash, but it’s also really outward-looking. The thing about the straight men who work there, they don’t have any qualms about seizing any editorial territory. It’s sort of real. They’ll cover anything, while the rest of us are sort of like, “I know about books.” That’s a self-limiting thing.
Further: I know the only person ever to receive an unequivocally positive recommendation after leaving Denton’s employ.
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.08.16 13:04. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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A purported “scholar” at the University of Toronto, Ms Kyle Kirkup, wrote the following lie about Stonewall at Torontoist:
On June 28, 1969, the New York Police Department… raided the Stonewall Inn, targeting queer and trans people for having the audacity to gather together…. The riot – led by trans women of colour
This is false, of course. “Trans women” are, first of all, men, and they did not exist in 1969. The attendees of the Stonewall Inn were gay men with a few lesbians and a very few cross-dressers and drag queens. It was illegal to appear in public in opposite-sex attire in 1969 in New York. It’s an established historical fact that those cross-dressers and drag queens – their own self-descriptions – were few in number (perhaps two) and did not “lead” anything. Further, the Stonewall uprising lasted several nights.
But to a queer theorist like Kirkup, and to a downtown-progressive blog like Torontoist, facts are whatever you want them to be when the topic is the most oppressed people the world has ever known – transgenders. This is at least consistent with the intrinsically dishonest worldview of transgenders and their apologists, who hold that biology does not exist, some women have dicks and some men have vaginas (“Get over it!”), and you can just decide to be a woman or man at any time, such decision overriding every right and privilege other people hold.
A series of complaints to Kirkup and Torontoist’s co-editor-in-chief, David Hains, resulted in nothing until I threatened to call them liars. I do so now, because they are. That threat prompted the sole response, from Torontoist’s de facto publisher, Ken Hunt of St. Joseph Media, who wrote (excerpted): “The editors and writer stand behind the story as written and they do not feel that a correction is necessary or appropriate.”
“In other words, they knowingly lied and you support their doing so,” I replied. “I’m sure they would disagree with that interpretation,” Hunt wrote back. “Yes, I do support them.”
To sum up, then: Kyle Kirkup lied about the historical facts about the gay and lesbian uprising at Stonewall. Torontoist’s editor and publisher backed her to the hilt, the latter implying that fact is mere “interpretation.”
Torontoist’s corrections policy is, I see now, a sham. And this city blog, on its ninth life and owned by the for-profit St. Joseph, has the audacity to ask for donations.
The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2015.08.01 10:12. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen.
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