It’s the most wonderful time of the year

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September 8, 2014

WEB-cross-country-Jade-Richardson — The women’s team placed seventh at the national championship, while the men’s team just missed the cut.

Both the men’s and women’s cross country teams had successful seasons last year. The women’s team made the national championships, and ended up in seventh place “out of probably 350 teams total,” according to coach Brit Townsend. The men’s team just missed the national championships, however, they “were very strong in the west regional championship,” said Townsend.

Now entering their third year in the NCAA, both teams are championship contenders, with a pre-season poll ranking the women’s team as first in the GNAC and the men’s as third.

To get there, though, both teams will have to work hard. “We have to qualify for the West regional championship in Billings, Montana in November and they will take six teams from our region to qualify for the national championship [. . .] in the beginning of December,” observed Townsend.

The men’s team is likely to feature last year’s GNAC freshman of the year Oliver Jorgensen as their lead runner, a position he served last season. It should be noted that the Abbotsford native narrowly missed making the cut for the national championships as an individual by just five seconds.

The team will also be bolstered by two freshman from Sherbrooke, Quebec: Phillipe Gravel and Marc-Antoine Rouleau. Townsend stated that the duo “for sure, will be a huge factor” and “will make an immediate impact on [the] program.”

Travis Vugteveen, who was redshirted last year, will run this year. Townsend described him as one of the “top cross country guys.”

Junior Cameron Proceviat, who was one of the “strongest track runners last year,” rounds out the team along with freshman Max Drummer, sophomore Ephraime Tadresse, and senior Austin Trapp. “I would say those would be our key men for this upcoming cross country season,” said Townsend.

The coach explained the drive behind the men’s team: “Their goal is to make the national championships, because they didn’t make it last year.”

On the other hand, the women’s team did make the national championships last year, and thus their goal is to beat, or at least match their placing last year.

“Our goal would be definitely to be in the top 10 again, as we were last year, and hopefully [we can do] even better if everyone’s healthy,” said Townsend.

The team will, however, have to contend with a changing roster, losing last year’s lead runner Lindsey Butterworth, whose NCAA eligibility for cross-country ended last season. As a result, the team is young, with no seniors whatsoever.

“We have lost two seniors that were key people, my top two seniors,” Townsend told The Peak. “It’s a very young team; we actually have no seniors at all other than Jennifer Johnson who is a grad student. The rest are freshmen, sophomores, or juniors.”

However, she is confident that with the new additions (including Johnson, Paige Nock, Miryam Bassett and Julia Howley) that the team will still be a force to contend with. Returners include Rebecca Bassett, Emma Chadsey (“one of our top runners last year”), Kansas Mackenzie and Peggy Noel.

Townsend maintained that both teams need to focus on closing the gap behind their front-runners. As points are awarded to the top five runners of the team, it would be advantageous to have the runners behind first place closer together.

“The thing we have to work on most is to have as many people close together in competition, so as close as they can be to our top runner. That way, our gap from first place to fifth place, or even seventh place, is not very big. That’s our best chance of beating other teams.”

For now, though, Townsend likes what she sees, saying, “The next couple of years for us look really good on both sides; we’ve got some really good new people.”

Both teams open up their season at the Ash Creek Invitational in Monmouth, OR on Friday, September 12.

Meet the Clan: Miryam Bassett

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September 8, 2014

CMYK-Miryam Bassett-2- Anderson Wang — Freshman Miryam Bassett is one of the up and coming prospects of both cross country and track and field.

Entering your first year of university can be quite a challenge. From the size of lecture halls, to the fact that you have to buy all of your textbooks, it’s an intimidating step up from high school.

To top it all off, it’s probably the very first time you move out on your own, or are at least much more removed from home than you’re used to.

In the first few weeks, it’s common to just want to retreat into a shell. Although, certainly, it’s a time of excitement, it’s also a pretty stressful time before the big jump up becomes just another routine (and then come finals).

Enter Miryam Bassett, a freshman cross country runner from Nanaimo, who during her high school career, won various cross country and track and field championships. Now, she resides in residence where she is making the tough transition from high schooler to university student.

However, for the most part, she is excited by the experience rather than scared: “First of all, it was really intimidating but it’s also kind of exciting. I’ve only been here for two days but it’s gotten really exciting pretty fast and I’ve already gotten kind of used to it, [for example] living here.”

Discussing her first classes, Bassett explains, “The [class] size is intimidating. The first class was a bit more intimidating than the second one, but I found it interesting. It’s cool in university because you get to choose what you want to do whereas in high school, other than choosing math or sciences, there is a lot more specific things you can choose.

“I got to choose what I was more interested in than in high school, so I feel I’ll like university, academically, a lot more.”

Although the prospect of moving away from home is intimidating to some, Bassett enjoys the freedom. “So far it’s definitely been exciting and it’s cool having your own little space that you can be in charge of. It was a little stressful to begin, but I look at it now and it’s a fun sort of atmosphere. You get used to it quickly.”

Perhaps it helps that her sister, Rebecca, who is a year older and headed into her sophomore year, is also an athlete and around to help her through the trials of university life. “My sister’s on my team, so I’ve been introduced to a lot of her friends [. . . and] I’ve had someone telling me positive things about the university, someone, like a family member I can always go to if I need any help or have any questions who I know will always be there to help me out.

“It’s definitely nice having a sister here,” she added.

She did, however, allude to the stressful application process, pinpointing the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT). SFU, as an NCAA school in Canada, has to play by NCAA or American rules, which require the use of an SAT to decide if a student merits admission to university. For Canadian universities, this is usually unnecessary but SFU’s NCAA status adds this challenge.

“It was sort of stressful with the whole NCAA thing, making me do a SAT and stuff like that,” Bassett explained. “The SAT is very different from school in Canada; you can tell it’s very American. The test was very hard, [though] it wasn’t difficult as in hard to write [but] it was hard because it was long. Personally, I didn’t think it was the best.”

Bassett mentioned that she chose SFU over some American schools for a better education: “I had a few other universities come talk to me, the ones that I was considering the most were in the States. I chose SFU because first off, the academics are a lot better — for me, they had what I wanted.

“It wasn’t all academic,” she added, praising SFU’s cross country program. “The athletics were more like what I wanted; they have a really good program, especially on the girls’ side for 850m.”

With the school year starting, Bassett has to focus on her academics in addition to athletics, as she works toward a kinesiology degree in hopes of becoming a physiotherapist. She observed, “They say a lot that you’re student athletes, and student comes first so what I really want to do is keep on top of school while also keeping up my athletics. The thing is if you don’t do well in school, you can’t compete.”

As for the transition from from high school to university athletics, Bassett noted the faster, more intense pace of the NCAA, a feeling most students can relate to when they first come to university, with greater workloads and more trying schedules.

However, just as the athlete adjusts to higher pace, so does the student adapt to their new surroundings.

TA-dating article unfairly persecuted

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September 8, 2014

From the printing press to Twitter, the modernization of media technology has made information more easily accessible to the distant masses. While this has been largely to society’s benefit, it’s not without drawbacks. Among these is the ability of journalists to create narratives of outrage that can bully small figures without proper nuance.

One of the latest victims of these rhetorical rampages is Robert Nanni, a writer for The Gazette, a school newspaper for a not-terribly-significant Ontario University. In his article entitled “So You Want to Date a Teaching Assistant?” Nanni lays out a disjointed series of flirting mechanisms for undergraduates to gain the romantic attention of TAs. Since its publication, accusations of sexism, harassment promotion, and a host of other things have made Nanni’s article into a nation-wide discovery.

But is Nanni really deserving of such a witch-hunt?

First of all, this article was placed in the humour section of the paper. Humour, by its very nature, pushes boundaries and relies on the alphabet of stereotypes. If deliberately sought, one can easily find things to be offended by in nearly any corpus of humour.

If we were to expect the same level of political correctness to regulate comedians as other public figures, it would strangle their raison d’etre. Therefore, as a society we give more leeway to people operating in the arena of humour, letting people like Colbert, Leno, and Mercer say things that we would never allow Couric, Obama, or Harper to get away with. This is a leeway we need to afford to Mr. Nanni as well.

Both the author and the newspaper displayed courage in defending themselves from national outrage.

Secondly, we need to realize that, while Nanni seems to be encouraging people to develop inappropriate relationships, his intended audience are the undergraduates, not the TAs themselves. When we develop rules to prevent romantic relationships from developing in circumstances of a power imbalance, we need to understand the primary onus is on the person with greater authority, not the one with less. If Nanni was suggesting predatory behaviour on the part of the TAs, even with the cloak of humour, he would be well deserving of angry censure. But this is not what he did.

Perhaps the most serious charge people have leveled against Nanni is that he has promoted sexual harassment. But if one actually reads the text of the article itself, rather than merely relying on the sound bites picked up by the national media, one sees a picture that is far more nuanced. The Canadian Labour Code defines sexual harassment as “any conduct, comment, gesture or contact of a sexual nature that is likely to cause offense or humiliation to any employee.”

The actions Nanni actually suggests in his article — glancing at a TA’s public Facebook profile, asking smart questions during class, or wearing moderately revealing clothing — hardly qualify for this designation. Unless his critics are suggesting that TAs should insist their students only ask dumb questions or have the authority to control their tutorials’ dress code?

Both the author and the newspaper displayed tremendous courage in defending themselves from the onslaught of national outrage, and while they have stated that “[their] priorities concerning such topics remain the same,” they have understandably removed the article from the internet. Here, as in so many other places, ire seems to have triumphed over nuance.

SFU graduate says study what you love

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September 8, 2014

Speaking from personal experience, choosing a degree is hard. It’s perhaps one of the most stressful things you will ever do after high school. Honestly, even if it took longer than I planned, I don’t regret switching from a science-based health program to an arts-based one in order to find the right fit for my strengths. It’s important to choose a subject that genuinely interests you, instead of how employable it makes you.

During university, you are encouraged to make your own decisions and find your own path instead of following the opinions of your parents and teachers. Studying what interests you is perhaps the best way to not only open more opportunities, but achieve success in life.

The value of a degree should not be based solely on the merits of how employable it makes you. I find that this mindset tends to lead to over-fixation on a single goal. This is a shame, as the first year of university is the best time to experiment and find your calling. Oftentimes you will find that you are playing to your strengths when you stumble upon a subject you are passionate about.

The university programs at SFU are structured in a way that allows you to take courses outside of your major. However, I find my peers too often squander this opportunity and take only the bare minimum. If your sole goal is to get a job right after graduation, there are cheaper alternatives, such as technical schools. When you come to university, you come to learn, and finding a successful job afterwards is a side benefit to this.

If you have a passion for something, you will certainly find a way to make it work for you.

On the other hand, I agree that getting a university education is a hefty investment, one which many hope will net them substantial returns. But as a university student you are trained to think critically and problem solve; you can take what you’ve learned from your degree and apply it to other career paths. Someone with a genuine interest in what they are studying should research all possible paths available to them. If you have a passion for something, you will certainly find a way to make it work for you.

Aside from the personal benefits to your well being in enjoying what you do, having a genuine interest in a topic means that you are more likely to understand it, instead of just memorizing and regurgitating course material until the end of the semester.

To be poetic, when you study something you enjoy, you take the information you find and make it part of yourself. As a result, you are more likely to do well in classes because of your interest, as opposed to obligation.

Another benefit is that you are able to share a common interest with your professors, which can help build connections later in your career. Success in academics opens up other opportunities in the long run, such as internship possibilities and financial awards. These can help ease your financial burden in university and prepare you in your future career.

In the end, you must make whatever you feel is the right decision. However, there are few reasons not to study what you want. Even if you do choose to focus on a more job-oriented approach, taking a minor to further supplement your current program can benefit you in the long run. Studying what you love will ultimately lead you to a happier life.

Tim Hortons should be kept Canadian

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September 8, 2014

I am in a flurry of motion. Tapping my feet, checking my watch every 0.62 seconds, I throw several anxious glances at the customs officer. Come on. I have a bus to catch at noon, and it’s already 11:40 a.m. Ten agonizing minutes later, I’m through the gates and rushing through the arrivals hall to the bus terminal. That’s when I see it.

Inside SPAR, an Irish convenience store, is a Tim Hortons coffee machine and doughnut rack.

For a split second, I smile, immediately thinking of Canada. But then that second’s gone, replaced by ‘Oprah say what?’ thoughts as I wander into the store. If I were more daft, I’d probably prod the machine. As it is, I’m gobsmacked. A Tim Hortons in Ireland of all places? It doesn’t make sense. The machine with the bold brand name on it flutters its eyelashes innocuously at me.

I didn’t have time to buy any of the Timbits on sale, or issue a firestorm questionnaire at the salesclerk, but as I sat on the bus, watching Irish cityscape and countryside slide by, I mused rather sadly, “I thought Tim Hortons was supposed to be Canadian.”

Is it so bad to want a company to just be national or even local? Why do so many companies have to become global? With so many businesses hungry for expansion, one of the ways to stand out is to stay true to your roots and cater to a smaller, more specific audience.

There was once a time when Americans had to make the trip up over the border to enjoy Timbits.

There’s still a strong appreciation for local and national brands like that family-run fish-and-chips store. With smaller establishments, your experience is much more intimate; you might be friends with the owner or know the history of the place right from its very beginning.

Likewise, there’s something special about seeing a Tim Hortons branch and feeling that familiar bloom of Canadian pride — after all, it was founded by a very famous Canadian hockey player.

It’s definitely not McDonalds, which you can find in even the most remote places of the world. I don’t know about you, but I go into Tim Hortons feeling more chipper than when I go to McDonalds, possibly because I subconsciously associate it with Canada more than McDonalds, but possibly also because I love their white hot chocolate so goddamned much!

Currently, Tim Hortons is a larger food service operator in Canada than McDonalds, bringing in more than one-fifth of the nation-wide fast food revenue — which is quite an achievement! There was once a time when Americans had to make the trip over the border to enjoy some Timbits; now, there are around 800 branches in the States.

With Tim Hortons’ recent sell-out to the American owned Burger King, the current plan to set up more branches elsewhere in the world and become a global superstar could eventually bury its Canadian roots. Fellow customers will nod automatically and indulgently at the reminiscent old geezer insisting that Tim Hortons used to be solely Canadian.

Tim Hortons is often seen as a symbol of Canadian identity, much like the maple leaf or hockey. The company has woven itself into the Canadian fabric, and I would hate to see it become a stitch on other countries’ quilts.

Please, don’t let Tim Hortons become the next Dunkin’ Donuts. Call me selfish, but Tim Hortons shouldn’t be shared with the world. If the world wants it, they can come to Canada, and find us Canadians already at the counter.

Fear of a yellow planet

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September 8, 2014

No TV and no beer make Homer something something. — Twenty five years later, *The Simpsons* is still the best — and funniest — TV show of all time.

Back in those halcyon days when I had home-recorded VHS tapes and late-night cartoon marathons in lieu of summer jobs and print deadlines, my sister and I would exhaust each and every Simpsons videotape we owned, to the point where we could no longer attribute the loud wheezing of our long-abused VHS player to poor craftsmanship. Of course, my father, our Homer, who habitually joined us in our nonstop binge-watches, had no one to blame but himself.

We knew each joke by heart, every episode by its opening couch gag, and each film reference by instinct — even if we hadn’t yet seen the films they were referencing. Many young people of our age (millennials, as we’ve been unwillingly labelled) likely have similar stories of lazy Sunday pajama-clad Simpsons sprees.

Despite occasional maternal hand-wringing and the often over-our-heads political barbs, The Simpsons were my teacher, my mother, my secret lover. They taught me more about the nuances of family, culture, and society than public schooling or an emaciated prepubescent social life ever could.

Straight out of the gate, The Simpsons established an immutable presence in the pop culture of the era.

Twenty years and a dizzying dip in quality later, it’s become increasingly hard to think of a time when The Simpsons legitimately held claim to the title of the greatest TV show of all time. But those of us who grew up with Homer, Marge, Lisa, Bart, and Maggie remember how the show once blended self-aware humour, biting social commentary, and unashamed slapstick to make for one of the most well-realized explorations of the human condition this side of Tolstoy’s War and Peace.

Occasionally, shades of the old Simpsons — the family my generation and my parents’ fell head over heels for — will shine through, but by and large, their glory days are far behind them. Thankfully, the show’s 25th anniversary this December inspired FXX to air the entire series in a blissful two-week marathon, introducing a new generation and reintroducing an older one to the glory days of primetime TV’s greatest achievement.

In honour of the show we grew up with, The Peak is taking a look back at the show’s beginnings, as well as its lingering effects on the language, TV, and culture of the present day.

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Imagine a time when there was no Breaking Bad, no Sopranos, no Orange is the New Black — where the best you could expect on the tube was the sort of wholesome, saccharine sitcoms we now know only as the subject of merciless satire for better shows: The Cosby Show, Full House, Growing Pains, and so on. Sure, there was a hint of subversiveness in shows like Cheers and Roseanne, but the sort of challenging, intellectual fare we’re accustomed to now would have been unheard of in the pre-Simpsons era of TV.

Enter Matthew Groening (it’s pronounced Gray-ning): a bearded comic book nerd and cartoonist at the Los Angeles Reader, an alternative rag for which he also delivered papers and answered phones. Groening’s strip, Life in Hell, featured anthropomorphic bunnies and explored themes of religion, philosophy, culture, and language. Though unmistakably neither yellow nor human, Groening’s rabbits were Simpsonian both in vibe and aim; a tongue-in-cheek send-up of everything from love and sex to death and morality.

Among the many fans of the strip was James L. Brooks, a Hollywood bigwig and famed writer on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, one of the gems of TV’s first Golden Age. After winning multiple Oscars for writing and directing the maudlin 1983 hit Terms of Endearment, Brooks found his way back to television with The Tracey Ullman Show, a fledgling primetime sketch comedy program hosted by a British comic relatively unknown in Canada or the States. Among the show’s variety of segments were elaborate musical numbers choreographed by a then-unknown Paula Abdul; sketches tailored to show off Ullman’s talent for vocal mimicry; and, of course, the occasional animated short.

The story has since become apocryphal. Groening, encouraged to pitch Brooks his Life in Hell characters as an animated segment for the Ullman show, was hesitant to hand over the rights to Fox. “I was made aware that I might lose ownership of whatever I pitched [to the network],” Groening told The Hollywood Reporter. “Instead of pitching Life in Hell, I drew new characters on the spot. I’d had them in mind for a while but had never drawn them.”

In Brooks’ waiting room, minutes before the pitch, he scribbled down his new idea for a series of shorts: a family of five, named after his own family — except, of course, for Bart, a stand-in for Matt.

Premiering on April 19, 1987, The Simpsons shorts quickly became the breakout hit of the show; their popularity inspired Fox to feature the clips alongside trailers before movies. “I went to a theater, and the moment The Simpsons came up on the screen, the audience burst into applause,” said Groening. “That was the first major indication of, ‘Whoa, we have something here.’”

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The popularity of the shorts led Fox to consider the possibility of a full-length show; it would become the first animated sitcom since The Flintstones, more than three decades earlier. According to Brooks, animator David Silverman — who’d go on to be one of the show’s biggest creative influences — cornered him drunk at a party, begging him to give the Simpsons their own slot.

Luckily, the network was hungry for a hit, as shows like Ullman were suffering from low ratings despite critical acclaim. With Brooks’ backing, the show was picked up for a 13-episode debut season, with Groening, Brooks, and Brooks’ longtime collaborator Sam Simon as executive producers.

On December 17, 1989 (just under 25 years ago today), The Simpsons debuted on primetime with an episode-length Christmas special, “Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire.” Sporting subversive, anti-authoritarian humour, casually crude animation, and brief hints of the sort of introspective genius that would become commonplace in the series’ own Golden Age, The Simpsons proper became an immediate and all-consuming hit.

Though The Simpsons’ first two seasons were immensely popular, controversy and strife festered behind the scenes. Animation flubs were common in the show’s early days, and commentators were quick to criticize the show’s supposedly amoral messages.

Sam Simon, who was responsible for much of the show’s early success — assembling its impressive team of nerdy, Harvard-educated writers; editing and re-editing and then re-editing scripts; encouraging voice talent to record their lines together in one room rather than separately — suffered strained relations with creator Groening. Simon resented receiving less credit than the show’s official creator, whereas Groening was critical of Simon’s creative fingerprint on the series.

Simon left during the show’s fourth year, though he retained a producing credit and received royalties for the series long after his departure. The Simpsons would switch showrunners every two seasons during its best seasons — generally agreed as occurring between 1991 and 1997 — and these would become the seasons that established it as the unique, genre-bending masterpiece it’s now considered to be.

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Straight out of the gate, The Simpsons established an immutable presence in the pop culture of the era. The early seasons cast Bart Simpson, the flippant daredevil of the family, as the show’s protagonist, much to the ire of conservative critics and families fearing their children might ape his penchant for bad behaviour. Tongue-in-cheek catchphrases such as “Don’t have a cow, man” and “Eat my shorts!” only heightened the cultural tensions spurred by Bart’s devil-may-care attitude.

The cultural outcry against Bart’s antics went hand in hand with an influx of Bart-themed merchandise — hats and shirts which eventually moved to the black market as more and more teachers began to ban the spiky-haired troublemaker’s image in their classrooms. At the peak of Bartmania, Michael Jackson even offered to write a novelty song in honour of the character. “Do the Bartman” would go on to top the UK charts, though it was never officially released overseas.

As the show gained more popularity and both its animation and writing improved, Groening, Brooks, and Simon passed the baton to Al Jean and Mike Reiss, who served as showrunners during the show’s third and fourth seasons. These are generally agreed to be the first seasons in the show’s Golden Age — writers like John Swartzwelder, David M. Stern, and a young Conan O’Brien worked with Reiss and Jean to create some of the show’s most legendary episodes, such as “Kamp Krusty,” “Homer at the Bat,” and “Marge vs. the Monorail,” respectively.

The next seasons polished the show’s mix of subversive humour, broad comedic situations, and emotional gravitas. The show won multiple Emmys and critical acclaim across the board, becoming so famous as to warrant a public denunciation from then-president George H. W. Bush. In 1999, Time magazine rated the show as the best in television history, and even saved a space for Bart among its 100 most influential people — despite the show’s spotlight long ago having transferred to Homer, the series’ bumbling but well-meaning patriarch.

For Simpsons fans such as myself, these years exist encased in a sort of pop cultural amber. They’re untouchable. They didn’t just change the face of TV for good; they also changed us, and (mostly) for the better.

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The influence of The Simpsons on today’s television landscape is hard to miss — Family Guy,South Park, Beavis and Butt-Head, Bob’s Burgers, King of the Hill, Futurama, and countless others have taken proverbial pages from the book of Simpson, to varying degrees of success. The calculated blow dealt to TV by that yellow fivesome meant an influx of shows which aimed similarly to challenge the status quo: The Office, Malcolm in the Middle, Married… with Children, and even The Daily Show followed in the footsteps of that Springfieldian family, and shades of its meta humour can be seen even in more recent fare like Community, Archer, and Rick and Morty.

But The Simpsons also introduced viewers both young and old to a radical, counter-cultural way of thinking, diametrically opposed to the milquetoast nuclear family values of The Cosby Show and Full House. Bart’s opposition to authority and gleeful taste for mayhem made him the poster-child for the MTV generation; Lisa’s uncommon intelligence and subsequent disillusionment with institutions betrayed the show’s own distrust of the powers that be; Marge’s gracefulness under the pressures of domesticity made her the unlikeliest of feminist heroines.

The show satirized the pillars of North American society — religion, media, politics, sex, race, class — with both wit and warmth.

For his part, Homer, the show’s breakout protagonist, was an all-out deconstruction of the classic family man of sitcoms past — simultaneously a source of humour and tenderness, bigotry and warmth, idiocy and insight. Though each member of the Simpson family has since been simplified and sterilized to the point of unrecognizability, there was a time when each stood as a sign both of the strength of the series and of the changing tides of 20th century society.

The show satirized the pillars of North American society — religion, media, politics, sex, race, class — with both wit and warmth. Episodes explored the characters’ faith and moral beliefs, as well as their prejudices and preconceptions, in a way that was both informative and insightful. The Simpsons’ creative use of language also had a lasting effect; phrases like “d’oh,” “yoink,” and “meh” have been popularized by the show, and quotes from its best episodes have found their way into the everyday slang of superfans and casual viewers alike.

Of course, the show’s best feature may well be its most obvious — it’s really, really fucking funny. In its heyday, The Simpsons combined self-referentiality, political satire, wordplay, slapstick physical gags, rapid-fire witticisms, celebrity impressions (sometimes done by the celebrities themselves), and off-the-wall absurdity, all making it the funniest show ever to air on primetime television. To watch these episodes now, many of the references seem dated or passé, but the show itself is still as laugh-out-loud hilarious as ever.

So — what happened?

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The jury’s out on when The Simpsons officially ‘jumped the shark.’ Some cite the season 12 episode “Homer vs. Dignity,” in which Homer is implicitly raped by a panda at the Springfield zoo, as the series’ nadir; others mention the season nine bomb “The Principal and the Pauper,” where supporting character Principal Skinner is revealed to be an impostor, abandoning much of the series’ canon up to that point; and many diehards will go as far back as season eight — usually cited as part of the series’ Golden Age — and cite “Homer’s Enemy,” in which Homer indirectly causes the death of a rival at work then loudly snores through the funeral.

Each of these episodes shows a disregard for the emotional core of the series and a general lack of consistent characterization — whichever you may choose as the official point of no return, things were never the same for The Simpsons after about season eight or nine (depending, of course, on who you ask). Money disputes among cast and crew obfuscated the show’s creative integrity; constant changes in showrunners and writers resulted in a serious lack of consistency; and, frankly, they may have just run out of ideas after over 500 episodes and almost 25 years on the air. I know I would.

Just five years ago, The Simpsons beat out the legendary Western drama Gunsmoke as the longest-running scripted primetime TV series of all time; it also holds the title of longest-running animated series and longest-running sitcom. Its cast of recurring characters numbers in the hundreds, and its recycled plot points surely run a similar tally. If nothing else, FXX’s Simpsons marathon gives viewers ample opportunity to watch the steady decline of the series in real time — the jokes sag along with the verisimilitude and consistency of the characterization, and the cries of helpless fans echo soundlessly into the void.

But hey, maybe I’m being a little dramatic. If nothing else, a 25th anniversary celebration is a great chance to introduce the new generation to the show which ingrained the same sardonic indifference that launched a thousand anti-millennial op-eds. Once upon a time, The Simpsons was among the most ground-breaking, envelope-pushing cultural creations of all time, and its scope and breadth of vision remains impressive despite its inevitable decay.

So if you take one thing away from this piece, it’s this: watch the damn show. I’d be willing to go toe to toe with anyone who’d argue that South Park, Family Guy, or even Seinfeld can stand up to The Simpsons at the zenith of its creative quality. In the same way the show still links my sister and I, it links a generation of like-minded viewers together, yearning for donuts and slouching towards Sunday afternoon TV binges in a manner distinctly yellow in tone.

Kinder Morgan expansion: a plea for personal action

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September 8, 2014

Simon Fraser University is a progressive academic think-tank of 30,000 students and 6,500 faculty and staff, with a handful of critical departments who pride themselves on breeding socially responsible citizens.

However, SFU seems to be allowing Kinder Morgan to expand its pipeline infrastructure through Burnaby Mountain, SFU’s home. Please take a minute to understand the grim irony in this situation.

From my experience at SFU, many students, faculty and university representatives are opposed to any kind of pipeline expansion. So, now that there is a pipeline of crude black gold — the currency of corporate rule — soon to be built right under our feet, we should do something about it.

Many of us will do what we have been taught: try to understand why this is happening by raising critical questions about all stakeholders involved. Why does a corporation have power over the municipal governmental body and the university? If Derek Corrigan, Burnaby’s mayor, really does not support the pipeline expansion, it’s odd that he’s simply supervising the Kinder Morgan worksite and only intervening if bylaws are broken.

Where are the municipal outreaches and community initiatives to work together to stop the pipeline expansion? Where is the response from SFU’s political and legislative bodies? Why are local media outlets reporting the story as a clash between the municipality and Kinder Morgan, when the approval of the pipeline expansion already sounds the municipality’s downfall?

But before we propose questions that shift responsibility into the hands of others, perhaps those of us who do not support the pipeline expansion should look into the level of personal responsibility we have invested in the cause.

As SFU students who don’t want to see an oil pipeline [on campus], we are powerful stakeholders.

It’s important to understand that natural resource commodification, corporate takeover, and government legislation at all levels have resulted in blunders in the past.

If we do not want to see a pipeline built under our feet on Burnaby Mountain, we need to recognize the conditions that have manifested around us over time. We must take some level of responsibility to push the transition to our future into conditions that are more equitable than the ones we live in today.

Every day at SFU, I see a large populace of students who have no sense of certainty behind their values and self-proclaimed moral codes, but I also see a portion of individuals who are grounded in their beliefs and passionate about a cause.

So where is this passion on a pragmatic level? If you take a strong oppositional stance on the pipeline expansion, maybe you should also take a few minutes to reflect on how much responsibility you’ve taken to change the conditions, and how you can take leadership to create positive change.

As students of SFU who do not want to see an oil pipeline go through the land upon which our education is built, we are powerful stakeholders. As students of the university, we have access to a wide range of resources and networks, an open space for collaboration, and a large portion of forward-thinking individuals who already stand against the project. Whatever cause you believe in that has led you to oppose this pipeline expansion, it connects you with a range of other individuals whose passions have led them to take the same stance.

Yes, Kinder Morgan is looking to build a pipeline through Burnaby Mountain: what are you going to do about it?

Why I’m siding with BC teachers

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September 8, 2014

More like Crusty Clark, amirite? — Don't blame BC's teachers for the elongated strike — blame Christy Clark's liberals.

On June 5, 2001, when I was just seven years old, Christy Clark began her reign as BC’s Education Minister. The BC Liberals, a party Clark now leads, ran on a platform entitled “A New Era for British Columbia” which promised to “create a public education system that’s the envy of the world.”

Since that day, Clark’s policies have certainly marked a new era for British Columbia — one with a deeply broken and battered public education system.

On my last day of the first grade, the collective agreement between the British Columbia Teachers’ Federation (BCTF) and the BC Government expired. In her campaign, Clark had vowed to increase parental involvement in the public education system, restore education as an essential service, and ensure that school would remain in session for students in the event of a strike. These promises manifested themselves in several legislative actions, most notably through Bill 27 and 28, which both passed on January 27, 2002.

These bills imposed the teachers’ contract, and effectively stripped the BCTF of the right to collective bargaining, including their ability to negotiate class size, composition, and other working and learning conditions for teachers and students alike. The BCTF reported that this cut roughly $275 million in education funding, leaving our teachers with some of the lowest salaries in Canada.

Christy Clark’s policies have marked a new era for British Columbia — one with a deeply broken and battered public education system.

The salary increases that were established in the teachers’ contract were delegated to the school districts across the province, leading to incredible deficits in my school district during my time in grades three and four. To top it all off, Bill 19 was passed in 2005, which extended the imposed contract of Bill 28 into 2006. As a result of this unreasonable neglect, the BCTF went on strike in October 2005.

In 2005, I moved to another school district in BC, and there I had my first experience with a teacher who was willing to donate hundreds of hours of volunteer work to provide me and my peers with a quality education. She held book clubs, taught us to sing French music, and even took us all on a weekend camping trip to Cultus Lake where we carved soapstone and found salamanders.

This teacher, who took extra time to listen to me, who sparked my love of literature and outdoor education, was one of thousands of BC teachers who went on illegal strike in protest of their treatment by the Liberal government for over two weeks. At the end of this strike in 2006, a five-year tentative agreement was signed by both teachers and the government which included a signing bonus and wage increase for educators.

The years between 2006 and 2011 were big for me. I was in a pubescent hot mess of pimples and crushes, sneaking out of my parents’ houses and getting into trouble. Eventually, I moved away to finish my public education career in the same sleepy small town I started it in. There, I met teachers who, again, donated hundreds — maybe thousands — of volunteer hours towards extra-curricular music, theatre, and film programs that have since served as the foundation of my passion for filmmaking and community service.

Meanwhile, on April 13, 2011, the BC Supreme Court ruled that Bills 27 and 28, enacted by the BC government in 2002, were “unconstitutional and invalid.” As a result, the government was given 12 months to remedy its illegalities and return the language about class size and composition to the contract.

The next year, my final one in the public education system, my teachers went on a three-day strike to protest the lack of action by Christy Clark’s government in addressing the illegality of Bills 27 and 28. Bill 22 was then legislated to bring teachers back to school after spring break. As the Liberals still had not struck a collective agreement with teachers and their illegal actions had not been addressed, the BCTF took the BC government back to the Supreme Court.

My graduating year, 2012, was a success largely due to the immense support of my teachers. Despite my disappointment in losing extra-curricular privileges such as in-school film festivals, extra rehearsals, and after school support, I left the public education system with immense gratitude for many teachers who mentored me far beyond the curriculum.

That same year I began my career at SFU, and began working for an organization in East Vancouver that serves some of the city’s most vulnerable inner-city children. In 2013, around the time I started working with this organization, a report was published stating that BC has the highest rate of child poverty in all of Canada: 19 per cent of children in our province live in poverty, compared to the 13 per cent national average.

We must consider that many children who miss school due to strikes may not even be having their most basic needs met. BC public schools provide meal programs, education, and support to children who otherwise may not receive these essential services due to financial barriers. These barriers simply will not be broken down by the $40-a-day offered by the BC government for every day on strike after September 2, 2014. In order to serve BC’s most vulnerable youth, the government needs to find a way to deal with the teachers effectively and fairly.

Almost 12 years to the day of the enactment of Bills 27 and 28, the BC government was ordered to pay the BCTF $2 million in damages for its ongoing neglect to address the language of class size and composition. On August 30, 2014, Christy Clark ended her recent silence on the matter with a series of tweets, the first of which read, “We remain committed to negotiating a fair deal with the BCTF, but it has to be affordable for taxpayers.”

Allowing BC’s students to have access to necessary support in a safe environment does need to be affordable for British Columbians, but Clark and the Liberal government have neglected the concerns of our teachers far past the point of no return. Court battles, media campaigns, and $40-a-day band-aids are just some ways Clark and her government evade the BCTF’s concerns, and these ploys are costing taxpayers and children alike.

Christy Clark, I was in the BC public school system with you for over a decade. Now, as a taxpayer and citizen fighting for the basic human rights of children in this province, I urge you and your government to give the BCTF a fair deal.

Satellite Signals

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September 8, 2014