Saturday, April 20, 2002

Who is the worst MC?

Ah, Gonzales. Chilly, I need someone like you in my life. Who else will entertain me with phat beats, rapping about Salieri (Mozart's arch rival), chest hair, a safari hat and a firecracker cigar?

Yes, we went to see him last night and it was bloody brilliant apart from the wankers who turned up - a handful of whitey homeboys and bearded crusties who express themselves by flailing around, spilling lager and shouting at Chilly's stagemate Feist to get her kit off. (Yawn.) They're always too tall, too.

But anyhow, it was a proud moment for me. Canada and music haven't always been friends, but over time the list of good music grows. Of course in his case he moved to Berlin - but he's still big on letting you know about the Canuck Connection.

My favourite moment was when Feist started to insult Chilly, accusing him of being "Mr. Toronto goes off to Berlin I-don't-know-what-my Canadian-identity-is..."

As for the rest of my week, the less said the better. I've been so busy that I dreamt about work last night, leaving me as tired as ever. The only high point was my course in London - all about clearing copyrighted items for television programmes. Yes, it was useful, but I also made a cool discovery - Sister Wendy! The earnesty, the passion for art, the nun's habit and the lisp - what's not to love? She's now given up the glamorous world of BBC TV for a life of seclusion on the grounds of a Carmelite monastary.

Back to chilling out...

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