Or part of self. TV, Eh? is the less-than-euphoniously named Weblog run by Diane Wild, who single-handedly does more to promote Canadian television than all Canadian broadcasters put together. (The related podcast is marred by telephone-calibre voice quality and polite Canadians apologizing for talking over each other, but I was a guest once anyway.)
After years of abuse from someone related to a Canadian television curiosity – Murdoch Mysteries, a detective drama set in 19th-century Toronto – Diane Wild packed it in.
For three years he’s been sniping at me for my negativity while I’ve tried to grit my teeth and put up with his, and I’ve simply had enough. It’s not one big event that lead to this but three years of feeling harassed. A new season of the show is coming up and I can’t face it anymore.
I am reacting from anger, but it’s a long period of cumulative anger. I should have banned the man in question from the site and blocked his E-mails long ago, and that would have been the end. But after all our arguments about the value of criticism and his position that he’s protecting his wife’s work, I am going to both honour his intention and show by spiteful example what I’ve been saying for three years: Being ignored is worse than being subjected to the occasional negative remark.
Good for her. I would of course have no way of relating to a circumstance like this one.
Just today I learned that Canadian television is not actually overrun with snide, backbiting careerists with a habit of lobbing grenades from a comfortable distance. It is not, in other words, overrun with followers of the style of Karen Walton, Ink Canada’s founder and the woman whose tits I was accused of staring at. I say this as a fan of Canadian television. I’m hardly at the level of Ms Wild, who has made the mistake before of thinking I am a critic of her work. In fact, I defend more than Canadian TV shows; I have stuck up for the perennially vindictive and grudge-holding Denis McGrath (with whom I so often agree!) on more than one occasion. But, like Ms Wild, after a while there is a limit to the bullying one can take. And, I infer, as with my case, the bullies have made no effort to get to know Ms Wild, even at their own parties.
I am reliably informed that many of the writers who avoid industry events like Walton’s tend to be the kindest and most generous. I was touched and charmed to learn of this parallel universe of Canadian television, which lesson was delivered to me by a man who imparts all the life-affirming qualities I have just mentioned.
Aaron Martin’s chest hair