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Bookshelf number two

Continuing what Zel started, here is Bookshelf Number Two.

The titles are blurry again, so here they are in print:



Peter Loeffler, Five Sketches on Gordon Craig (signed)

Hume, Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion

Minasi, The Complete PC Upgrade and Maintenance Guide

the Canadian Oxford Guide to Writing

the Norton Reader

William Shatner, Star Trek Movie Memories

Bruder, Cohn, et al., A Practical Handbook for the Actor

Canadian Content

Talbot, Film: an Anthology

Robert Burns: Poems and Songs

An Anthology of Canadian Literature in English (vols. I and II)

Maximizer Enterprise 2000 Setup Guide (by me, in part)

Samuel Richardson, Pamela

Milton, Paradise Lost

Tomson Highway, the Rez Sisters

Samuel Johnson, the History of Rasselas

Greene, the Age of Exuberance

Defoe, Mol Flanders (Doh. Darn Flanderses.)

Gray, the Other Cinderella

Gurney, the Diningroom

King, All My Relations

Lee, the New Canadian Poets 1970-1985

Timothy Findley, the Wars

Prince, Movies and Meaning

Matters of Life and Death: New Introductory Essays in Moral Philosophy

Maximizer Enterprise 2000 User’s Guide (again, partly by me)

Larry Niven, Ringworld

The Penguin Wordmaster Dictionary

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To the person who broke into my car again

What were you thinking? That after five break-ins, you would finally find something of value in my car? I left the glove-box, ashtray, and coin holders open and empty. There was obviously nothing — nothing — in the car. No stereo. No personal belongings. The only loose objects are the spare tire and a pump, which you didn’t take.

No, you just broke in, pulled the wires out from under the steering column and completely failed to hotwire the car again. Seriously, if you’ve been at it this long, and you still can’t figure out how to start a car, you should find another line of work.

And that was a nice touch, opening the sunroof and turning on the lights. I found my car this morning damp and quite dead, you…. you… malicious, brain-diseased little cretin. I hope you get a shard of auto glass lodged in a very personal part of your body that gets infected, turns gangrenous, and is eventually amputated by a drunk chimpanzee with one arm, bad breath, and a rusty bread knife.

A drunk, one-armed chimpanzee with bad breath and a rusty bread knife.

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Bookshelf number one

Following in Zel’s footsteps, here is the first bookshelf, from the top down: Bookshelf Number One.

For those of you who can’t read the blurry titles, they are (from left to right):

Hamlet

Anthony and Cleopatra

Othello

Romeo and Juliet

Coriolanus

Love’s Labour’s Lost

Henry IV, Part One

As You Like It

Henry V

The Merchant of Venice

The Taming of the Shrew

Twelfth Night

As You Like It

Much Ado About Nothing

King Lear

Hamlet

MacBeth

Troilus and Cressida

The Tempest

A Misummer Night’s Dream

Richard II

Renée Descartes, Discourse on Method and the Meditations

Jane Austin, Pride and Prejudice

Rudy Wiebe, The Temptations of Big Bear

The Koran

Jane Austin, Persuasion

Frederick Phillip Grove, Settlers of the Marsh

Christopher Marlowe, the Complete Plays

Beatrice Culleton, In Search of April Raintree

Gabrielle Roy, The Tin Flute

Antonine Maillet, Pélagie

Frances Brooke, the History of Emily Montague

Ten Canadian Short Plays (ed. Jon Stevens)

Timothy Findley, Not Wanted on the Voyage

Yves Beauchemin, the Alley Cat

Stephen Leacock, Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town

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Cutting-edge, up-to-the-year reporting

The Vancouver Sun ran two stories today about how Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn have settled in town (see New to the neighbourhood). Two giant full-colour photos and supplementary black and white photos accompany this breaking news.

I’m glad the Sun keeps us informed when important events like this occur. This is the kind of dangerous, on-the-edge-of-your-seat kind of reporting that I like to see on the front page — not that boring stuff about the police (allegedly) using excessive force and (allegedly) threatening the media or the tiresome escalating military action in Iraq.

I only wish they had mentioned it way back when they arrived, or I wouldn’t have been so surprised when I spotted Kurt at lunch. I wish they’d tell us when the scores of other actors and actresses who live in Vancouver go outside for any reason.

Keep it up, Vancouver Sun!

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[censored]

I unexpectedly fell face-first into the issue of ‘net censorship this weekend. And it looks like I’m the villain.

In principle, I have always been opposed to censorship. When I think of censorship, I think of a tight-lipped, tight-assed old lady (or man) who takes a black marker to any library book that she doesn’t throw on the bonfire. Censorship inhibits free expression and the exchange of ideas.

Having said that, I have to admit that I just deleted someone’s comment and the link to their site. My reason? Although it was a perfectly fine (but weird) comment, I was worried that it wasn’t appropriate for non-adults. And I have reason to believe that my site is visited by younger types who, in my humble opinion, probably shouldn’t be exposed to certain subjects just yet. His link I removed for the same reason.

To me, it’s a matter of responsibly gauging the audience and presenting material that is not offensive or even traumatizing for the wee ones. The last thing I want is for a 10-year-old to link to my site from a Lego fan site and get smacked in the face with inappropriate adult conversation topics. If there were no such links to my site, I wouldn’t censor a thing, unless someone called me a “poo-poo head” or something else (that I probably deserve).

Now that I’ve done this, how do I feel about censorship? I’m still opposed to censorship and suppression of ideas, but this kind of self-censorship is different. It’s more akin to avoiding the “F” word in front of children.

Then why do I feel like the tight-lipped old man with the black marker?