By Gary Lim
Petter Watch: Sept 10
Petter somberly packs away Hawaiian shirt for next summer.
An interview with a textbook publishing baron
Baron Cardiff of Pearson, formal owner of the Pearson Canada textbook company is currently thought to command a GDP of $305.2 million, or in layman’s terms, Gabon. Amassing his fortune through the textbook trade that his family has owned for the past century, Baron Cardiff prefers to enjoy his fortune in private, having gone into reclusion. Through its extensive media connections, The Peak managed to secure a rare interview with the baron.
Gary: First of all, Mr. Cardiff, I’d like to thank you on behalf of The Peak and students at SFU for finding the time to speak with us. You’re not exactly the easiest man to track down.
Baron: Thank you.
G: That part . . . wasn’t a compliment. In addition to that, where exactly are we? The men who I only assume are working for you had me blindfolded for a good half hour before I ended up here.
B: We’re aboard The Prestige, my own private land-yacht.
G: Land . . . yacht.
B: Yes. The finest method of transportation one can take when crossing God’s green earth.
G: Anyways Mr. Cardiff, you’re an accomplished man, I see here, that your company has recently published it’s 13th editions of Introduction to Calculus, Basic Communications, and College Physics, not to mention your recent accolades in the fields of sailing, riding, what is this, house-owning?
B: Yes, rather good isn’t it.
G: Let’s cut to it Mr. Cardiff, the question on everyone’s mind: why are textbooks so expensive? The average student understands that with large-scale publishing there will inevitable be costs associated with labour, equipment and transport, but on the other hand, $250 for a hardcover textbook? Fuck you.
B: Well, updates to our textbooks are entirely necessary. In this modern age of telecoms and Twitterspheres, information travels at break-neck velocities. What is relevant now, may be totally irrelevant, several hours hereafter.
G: Granted, but with the cost of living on the rise, students are turning to alternative means for their learning materials. Craigslist, book exchanges, textbook renting, even illegal torrenting.
B:I will give you $50 if you never mention any of those things ever again.
G: You’ve got to be kidding; the average university student completes their bachelor’s with over 20 grand in student loans.
B: I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with this word “loan.”
G: You’re joking. A loan? Borrowing money, and later repaying it. This is a concept that you’re not familiar with.
B: Oh, how amusing, borrowing money. Next you’ll be telling me of your great air exchanging venture, or reusing clothes after wearing. The humour pages, indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make the final arrangement on an island in the South Pacific that I’ll be purchasing for the wife.
G: Oh, which one?
B: I’m sorry if I’m butchering the pronunciation, but I do believe the locals calls it ‘Ahstraulia?
G: Australia?
B: Yes, that’s the one. She does love those kangaroos. Anyhoo, you must rather go now.
And with a snap of his perfectly manicured fingers, I found myself ejected off of the land-yacht with nary more than a “what about the 50 buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks” echoing in the wind.
Is the capital gains tax rate robbing Canadians blind?
With parliament crying deficit, increasing the capital gains tax rate is a possible financial salve
By Jonathon Simister
It’s been in the news recently that Mitt Romney’s running mate Paul Ryan wants to eliminate tax on capital gains — money people “earn” from investing the money they already have instead of actually working. Even Mitt Romney, a multi-millionaire, admits that such a plan would reduce his tax bill to near zero.
Many Canadians are content in believing that such outlandish ideas would only be considered amongst libertarian true-believers in the United States, who are so out of touch with reality that they actually believe that privatized courts would be “more just,” and that shiny rocks are “the only real money.” This is not the case.
In Canada today, capital gains are taxed at only half the rate of income earned from labour. Just look at line 199 of your T1 form: “Multiply the amount on line 197 by 50 per cent.” After adding up all of their investment income, and subtracting any losses, investors get to add only half of this total to their taxable income. This means someone earning $50,000 per year in interest on a couple million in savings at the bank would pay the same amount of income tax as the poor sucker who gets $25,000 to do their landscaping. One person works all day in the hot sun while the other gets twice the money to do nothing and yet they both pay the same amount of tax at the end of the year. Factor in tax-free investment vehicles like RRSPs, RESPs, and TFSAs and the multi-millionaire could actually earn much more and pay even less tax than the poor schmuck mowing their lawn.
In fact, these investment tax shelters ensure that regular people, the 99 per cent, never have to worry about paying capital gains tax. Anyone who has money left over after maxing out their annual tax-free $22,970 RRSP contribution limit, $2,000 per child RESP limit, and $5,000 TFSA contribution limit isn’t exactly working class. No one is paying capital gains tax on money they need to save for their retirement or their children’s education so there’s no legitimate reason to afford capital gains special treatment on tax forms. The low capital gains tax actually makes it harder for most Canadians to go to school or retire comfortably, because it robs the government of revenue it would otherwise have to help offset these costs and necessitates higher taxes on the meager incomes of students and retirees.
An increase on capital gains tax ought to be one of the least controversial tax increases. Aside from inheritance, investment income requires the least amount of effort to earn. The one per cent’s one, tired argument for the capital gains tax rate is that the money currently being invested in Canada will be invested elsewhere if it is increased. Their argument is flawed for two reasons. First of all, Canada is not a poor country by any standard, and thus doesn’t need huge amounts of foreign investment. This affords us the luxury of restricting foreign ownership in major industries. There’s plenty of money already in the hands of Canadians to be invested in new ventures or major developments; we don’t have to sacrifice our principles to appease overseas plutocrats.
Secondly, there are already plenty of places with zero capital gains tax, but investors are still pouring money into Canada. Canada will never be able to compete with tax havens like Barbados or The Cayman Islands, but we don’t have to. Canada’s investment appeal comes from the country’s resources and skilled workforce, not tax incentives. People who want to invest in the oil sands, for example, can’t very well choose their tax jurisdiction, so there’s no reason not to make them pay their fair share. Improving education will likely do the most to hasten growth of the Canadian economy. Increasing the capital gains tax to match taxes on labor income is the obvious way to pay for such improvements.
Does drinking decaf cause cancer?
Weighing the pros and cons of drinking decaf coffee
By Kristina Charania
Photos by Jean-Etienne Minh-Duy Poirrier
We all know that judging glance you dole out when the next person in line orders a decaf beverage. Any returning university student will tell you that coffee isn’t coffee without caffeine. And, while judging is (usually) never nice, many decaf drinkers are unaware of the long, controversial history backing the decaffeination process.
There are several ways to decaffeinate a coffee bean, but two popular methods, the direct and indirect methods of decaffeination, have been under fire for nearly 30 years for posing potential hazards to consumers. Both use a chemical solvent like dichloromethane to extract caffeine from beans without losing their flavour or aroma.
If you think the simplicity of these methods sounds too good to be true, you’d be correct. An early study in 1981 fed dichloromethane to several mice through a stomach tube — the tumors resulting from ingestion easily proved that dichloromethane was carcinogenic for small animals. Eventually, the chemical was recognized as possibly carcinogenic to humans by organizations like the International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC) and the U.S. Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA).
But, my friend, let’s be realistic here.
Dichloromethane is undoubtedly the big bad chemical that you think it is, but it doesn’t make decaf coffee a sudden danger to your health. For starters, testing on mice simply isn’t the same as testing on people — developed tumors in mice don’t concretely prove that they will form in humans under similar conditions.
The mice in these cancer studies were also pumped with enough of the chemical to equal millions of cups of coffee for a human being. Any carcinogen circulating the body in extreme concentrations is naturally going to produce cancerous tumors. You’d likely bust your stomach open before you reached a hundred cups of coffee, anyways.
If there is any solvent remaining in decaf beans, it’s likely to evaporate from your beloved beverage in the brewing process. The solvent’s boiling point is approximately 103 degrees Fahrenheit, and coffee is usually brewed between 195 and 205 degrees Fahrenheit — ensuring that the dichloromethane will mostly boil off by the time any coffee reaches your hands. In addition, past studies tested decaf coffee samples and found values ranging up to 4.0 ppm (parts per million — that’s a pretty small unit) in these samples, which falls under the 10.0 ppm maximum level specified by the FDA.
Although the FDA was approached by several groups to ban dichloromethane in all food production, their faith in the chemical’s harmlessness was unwavering. This leads to a final point: while dichloromethane is still used fairly often, the media did a stupendous job in scaring many companies into using other methods. Many companies like Nestle have banned the use of dichloromethane in production as an extra precaution and moved to using ethyl acetate, a compound that occurs naturally in fruit. This means that some of the decaf you consume hasn’t come in contact with any solvents and is safe to drink.
If you find yourself prematurely eyeing today’s coffee roasts with the caffeine-deficient mania you normally reserve for final exam week, do a double-take and indulge in a hearty cup of decaf if desired. If you’re a stickler for chemical-free foods, give herbal coffees a shot or seek out a Tim Hortons decaf coffee — their Swiss Water method uses a carbon filter instead of synthetic substances to remove the caffeine from beans. Consumers and industry professionals consider this method safe, and it originated right here in British Columbia.
Go ahead and take a sip. That 24-ounce decaf double-double beside you is still safe after all.
Welcome back: the arts at SFU
No need to fret: your welcome back arts guide begins here
By Daryn Wright
Somewhere, amongst the modernist architectural catastrophe that is SFU, there exists an arts community. Yes, it’s hard to find amongst those thick cement walls and uncomfortable wooden benches, especially if you’re a newcomer and unfamiliar with the many nooks and crannies of the several campuses, but it does exist. Consider this guide the first place to go to for all things artsy at SFU.
The Audain Gallery
Located at the Goldcorp Center for the Arts at SFU Woodward’s, the Audain Gallery is open Tuesday to Saturday from 12–6 p.m. With a focus on conceptual and experimental projects, the gallery encourages an engagement with contemporary art. Free and open to the public, previous exhibitions include The Primary Education of the Autodidact by Raqs Media Collective, and So Crazy it Just Might Work by third-year SFU visual arts students. Special events and workshops are held throughout the semester.
SFU Gallery
Two locations: Teck Gallery at SFU Vancouver Campus; and SFU Gallery at Burnaby campus, in room AQ3004. Both galleries are open Tuesday to Friday from 10 a.m.–5 p.m.; and 1– 5 p.m. on Saturday. The main gallery space on Burnaby campus has been open since 1965, and it strives to be inclusive of the SFU arts community. Both galleries reflect SFU’s radical history, and show contemporary involvement with the arts. Events are held monthly, and relevant publications are sold through the gallery. Exhibitions change every couple of months, and admission is free, so it’s easy to slip into the gallery between classes.
inter/tidal. An Interdisciplinary Journal
Published by the SFU Humanities Student Union, inter/tidal. accepts papers/essays, reviews, poetry, short fiction, and the visual arts. Subjects are generally concerned with contemporary issues in the humanities. Back issues are available online. See intertidalsfu.com for more information.
SFU Philosopher’s Cafe
If you’re looking for engaging discussion outside of the classroom, look no further. The cafe is a series of informal talks held in various locations around the city, such as the beach, community centers, and coffee houses. Covering a variety of subjects, upcoming sessions include: Social moguls, social virtuosos: who among us is capable of driving change?, and How does creativity work? See sfu.ca for complete schedule.
The Goldcorp Center for the Arts
Heart of the SFU Woodward’s Campus, the Centre for the Arts holds events ranging from theatre performances to film previews to arts forums. Upcoming events include: Far Side of the Moon, November 1–4 and 6–10 and Bah! Humbug! 2012 — An SFU Woodwards Seasonal Tradition from December 12–16.
If you still can’t get your arts fix, the best next thing is to talk to your peers about what they’re involved in — or read The Peak!
Sunny side up: Cat Power has left the shade behind
Sun proves that Cat Power still has spunk
By Navneet Nara
After nearly two decades of brooding, Cat Power found a bit of happiness. Sun didn’t come easy for Cat Power, after troubles with debt and a nervous breakdown, Chan Marshall (known to us as Cat Power) took a break from writing. The follow up to 2006’s The Greatest, Sun is Cat Power’s rebirth. An upbeat “Cherokee” starts the album with piano and guitar in a tempo fit for a summer’s drive. Even with Cat Power’s ever-brooding voice, “Cherokee” still manages to be groovy. The title track is flourished with clever drumbeats and stomping bass. Cat Power’s writing and ability to morph different vocal ranges is prominent in “3, 6, 9,” a catchy track with rhythmic lyrics. “Here on my belly in the still of the night/I feel alone,” she croons, backed by punchy tambourines.
“Nothin’ But Time” may be the most reminiscent of The Greatest, with its woozy vocals and melancholic percussion. Following that 10-minute track, Sun finishes up with the short and sweet “Peace and Love.” Though Sun is a solid album, it’s also an absent-minded one. There are a few gems, like “Manhattan,” but these become easily overshadowed by songs like “Ruin,” bitingly declaring a gripe with “Bitching, complaining from some people who ain’t got shit to eat.” That’s the spunk that secures Cat Power’s reign over the crooning female genre.
Despite the massive shift from Cat Power’s earlier albums, Sun shows a new side of Chan Marshal that is likely to linger longer than the summer sun.
Four: Bloc Party tries their hand at rock
A turn towards heavy guitar and vocals makes Four an anomaly
The problem with being a great band is that you set the standard to always be great. Unfortunately for Bloc Party, their latest album Four just doesn’t quite measure up in comparison to its predecessors. Guitar heavy in a way that is oddly similar to Three Days Grace, the album is too loud and too rock for a band that made their mark with upbeat synthpop and vocals you could identify anywhere.
With reports that Four was influenced more by Radiohead than earlier records, it makes sense that its opening track “So He Begins To Lie” plays like the formula for a typical head-banger metal song; repetitive guitar chords that lead up to a harsh, booming chorus that does its best to drown out lead singer Kele Okereke’s voice. Even “Coliseum”, which begins promisingly with a beat that sounds straight out of a western film, abruptly slips back to the rock-anthem vibe with Okereke screaming most of the lyrics. These tracks might as well have been recorded by a different band entirely.
The thing about Four, though, is that what it does well, it does great. When “3×3” starts playing, with the eerie, whisper-angry tone of Okereke’s vocals haunting quality of the melody, and the way he sings “now you’re one of / you’re one of us” in a voice that screams cult and horror, there are chills. Then there’s “V.A.L.I.S.”, a track so catchy and upbeat and full of clapping that your head is bound to bop along with it. In this, there are echoes of the old Bloc Party’s “Positive Tension”: the track has a bass line to die for, a rush in the background that sounds like wind, and a chorus that focuses more on Okereke’s vocals than the instrumental. It’s in these tracks that Bloc Party manages to recapture some of their old magic and remind us all of why we got excited over Four to begin with.
If you don’t know what Bloc Party is truly capable of, Four is perfectly enjoyable. But if you’ve followed this band from the beginning, sat and praised the beauty of Silent Alarm, and wondered at the distinctiveness of Kele Okereke’s voice, Four feels more like a first album than a fourth.
Patrick Krief: putting the pieces together
The Dears’ Patrick Krief goes solo with Hundred Thousand Pieces
Patrick Krief is calling from Winnipeg, Canada, where he is beginning his first nationwide tour as a solo artist. There is rattling in the background as his crew unpacks their trailer, readyingthemselves for Krief’s first out-of-town concert. This tour concludes a dark time in Krief’s life that haunted him for months and completely consumed him as an artist.
In May 2010 Krief, anxiety-ridden and panicked about the loss of his youth and the struggles of achieving financial stability, wondered, “how did I get here?” The result of this dark time in his life was Hundred Thousand Pieces, an album reflective of this period of self-analysis.
“Hundred Thousand Pieces has a lot to do with isolation and existential questioning. It really is about crossroads: what I am and where I was at the time,” says Krief.
“I had just turned 30 when these songs were coming together. I was living alone and struggling financially.”
When Krief came back from Mexico in 2010, having worked on a record with The Dears, he was brimming with ideas for the new album. He began to write and record in his Cote-Des-Neiges apartment in Montreal; however, he didn’t necessarily have plans to release Hundred Thousand Pieces. “The album itself wasn’t a big announcement; I was working on it without letting anybody know. At the time, I was just doing an art project,” says Krief. “There was a part of me that thought ‘maybe I’ll never release this. Maybe this one’s just for me.’ ”
Most people who do art for a living know the term “starving artist.” Unless your music coincides with mainstream demands, musicians such as Krief can find themselves struggling to make ends meet. “Do you compromise your art and get another job? You don’t want to make those compromises. My goal has always been to minimize anything else I have to do in my life besides music,” says Krief. “I try really hard to not get affected by my environment and be true to my musical inspiration.”
Krief says the song that kick-started the album was “Lost in Japan” then he found that the other ones came easy. “That song really gave me the feeling for the album. Sometimes it just starts with one song.”
In Hundred Thousand Pieces, Krief works to conceal the guitar sounds that usually define him, synthesizing sounds and using the instrument in unconventional ways, which showcases his other musical abilities. His vocal talent is also evident, producing raw, moody choruses such as in “Simple Lives.” The album is filled with orchestrations, strings, and choral singers that Krief says are “meant to sound really creepy.”
Krief admits that friends like Roberto Piccioni, fellow band member of Black Diamond Bay, have been there for him through the hardest of times. “Roberto has always been a part of what I’ve been doing and was there when the whole process started,” says Krief.
He lets out a small, muffled laugh while talking about his biggest challenge on this album: the drum recordings that were done in one day in studio, which caused him physical wounds. “It was my biggest challenge, physically speaking. I was racking my knuckles and bleeding [by the end].”
“Hundred Thousand Pieces is definitely more expansive than my past albums,” says Krief. “I feel like this album is more cohesive and stronger than my other works. It’s another step for me as an artist. Whether people like the album is all subjective.”
Throwback Review: Great reggae versions: a lovingly specific appreciation
Reggae covers add zest to American and British pop songs.
The period from the early 60s to the early 70s has always been my favorite in Jamaican popular music. It has something to do with the hesitant inception of new forms, tenuous, breakable rules, experimentation, vitality, and mess. Ah, the holy, incorruptible mess: once the production values get really good around 1971 my interest sort of wanes. Not only did Jamaica come into its own as a nation in this decade (gaining independence in 1962), but so did the incendiary three-stage radio rocket that is ska, rocksteady and reggae, a musical missile delivering a delectable sonic payload. Of course, this was a remarkable period, not only for Jamaican music, but also for the popular music of the world at large — more remarkable still, is that for just about any great American or British pop hit of the 60s, there is probably a reggae version of it. And it is probably amazing.
Take, for instance, Harry and Radcliffe’s cover of Sam Cooke’s “Wonderful World” (aka “History”): as with just about every solid reggae cover, the version adds ample bass and a sweet, danceable bounce to an already catchy melody. Here, though, the snappiness of the reggae makes the playfulness in Cooke’s lyrics of high school romance more explicit. I am also very fond of the Gaylettes’ cover of “Son of a Preacher Man.” This is still reggae, but with a massive, dramatic horn section, girl-group-style backing vocals, and a frantic pace that nearly overtakes lead singer Judy Mowatt. Toots and the Maytals take on John Denver’s dippy “Take Me Home, Country Roads” and never falter for a moment.
The great reggae cover is also carnivalesque. The original, Tommy James and the Shondells version of “Crimson and Clover” liquefied my 13-year-old soul, making me feel like I was in love without even knowing with whom. When The Uniques get their hands on it, the opening thumps of the bassline rekindle that sense of nascent romance. This is no straightforward imitation, though — in lieu of the studio effects of the Shondells version, The Uniques improvise their own, pretty much on the fly. The ballad gets a sense of humor, but maybe this is love as it ought to be.
