Category Archives: Street Art

Street scene double-take

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Julian Banksy will you sign my chest?

Banksy is always jacking my steez

We’re big fans of street art around these parts, and in fact we’d love to show these parts to Banksy or Jules any time they’re ready (it may take a few whiskies), and we are not so big fans of the late Margaret Thatcher, may she burn in Hell forever, so it is only right and natural that when we saw this glorious and righteous work of street art, we wanted to blog it immediately, but we are also hella lazy, so we got only as far as sticking it on Tumblr to use later. Well, it’s like Joni said, maaaaan, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, for lo, it is gone entirely. Behold the creation, and the desecration, and realize this all happened over the span of three days.

Burn in Hell, Maggie

Burn in Hell, Maggie

That was then, almost 20 hours ago. This is now.

Burn in Hell Maggie, Leake Street, London, UK. 12th April 2013. The 'Burn in Hell Maggie' graffiti has been painted over by British Rail as it was deemed to cause offence, which is against their guidelines for the graffiti on Leake Street.

Burn in Hell Maggie, Leake Street, London, UK. 12th April 2013. The ‘Burn in Hell Maggie’ graffiti has been painted over by British Rail as it was deemed to cause offence, which is against their guidelines for the graffiti on Leake Street.

Even in death, Margaret Thatcher is an enemy of art, an opponent of free speech, and a brittle opportunist who, despite her Iron Lady facade, could not endure the free voices of the people she purportedly served.  It’s bizarre that Toby Young, a supporter of hers, says, apropos of the “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” furor, “One of the costs of living in a free society is that you’re going to be offended from time to time by your fellow citizens and it would be an insult to the memory of Margaret Thatcher, a warrior in the cause of liberty, if the BBC banned the song on grounds of “taste” or “decency”.”

Um. Actually, no.

It would be exactly what she would have demanded. Am I truly the only one that remembers that she banned this song from the nation, a perfectly-crafted song from a chart-topping star which would surely have done well had it not been banned for being nothing more nor less than a scathing, and perfectly accurate, critique of Margaret Thatcher. She forced broadcasters to dub in the voice of the Sinn Fein leader, lest they hear his true voice and be somehow enchanted into sympathizing with The Enemy (one thinks she read too many Irish fairy stories as a child)? This is no champion of artistic freedom. This is no Iron Lady. This is a person who can’t bear to hear from others the things that she knows to be true about herself.

Ding.

Dong.

Here’s a better song.

The Day That Margaret Thatcher Dies
original lyrics via Pete Wylie’s Myspace

THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES[a party song]

WHEN MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THERE WILL BE NO TEARS
SAVE YOUR SORROW FOR THE PEOPLE THAT SHE STOMPED FOR YEARS
SHE TORTURED NORTH OF WATFORD WITH A VICIOUS HATE
SO WHEN MARGARET THATCHER DIES
LET’S CELEBRATE
and i say

HEY HO
HERE WE GO
TELL EVERYBODY THAT WE KNOW
SHE’S GONE!
COLOUR ME WITH LOVE
BUILD A BONFIRE
PAINT THE SKY
COME ON DOWN
I’LL TELL YOU WHY.
SHE’S GONE!
AND NOBODY CRIES…

THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES

YOU WANNA GIVE HER A STATE FUNERAL?
WELL THAT’S JUST GREAT.
IRONIC,COS SHE LEFT US IN A SORRY STATE
I PROTEST!
IT’S MONEY WASTED
BUILD A SCHOOL INSTEAD
THE ONLY REASON THAT I’LL GO IS TO MAKE SURE SHE’S DEAD…

HEY HO
HERE WE GO
TELL EVERYBODY THAT WE KNOW
SHE’S GONE!
COLOUR ME WITH LOVE
BUILD A BONFIRE
PAINT THE SKY
COME ON DOWN
I’LL TELL YOU WHY.
SHE’S GONE!
AND NOBODY CRIES…

THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES

IF YOU SAY MONEY’S ALL THAT MATTERS
THEN YOU’LL PAY A PRICE
DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU DO
YOU’LL KILL TO GET A SLICE
COS THE WICKED WITCH OF WESTMINSTER
LEFT AN EVIL CURSE.
NOW IT’S DOWN TO THATCHER’S CHILDREN
AND IT’S GETTING WORSE!

HEY HO
HERE WE GO
TELL EVERYBODY THAT WE KNOW
SHE’S GONE!
COLOUR ME WITH LOVE

BUILD A BONFIRE
PAINT THE SKY
COME ON DOWN
I’LL TELL YOU WHY.
SHE’S GONE!
AND NOBODY CRIES…

THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES
THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES

SO DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE DIE,
DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE DIE

YEAH DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE DIE
DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE,DIE DIE

THE DAY THAT MARGARET THATCHER DIES…

hat tip to Mobilizing Mouse

Keep Calm and Recite the Lords of Hockey Prayer

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Keep calm and Canuck on

Keep calm and Canuck on

I was walking down the street, minding my own business (for once) when, right at the corner of Richards and Hastings, I saw this. I had to have it. And since I don’t have a camera capable of photographing it well enough to capture all the text, I ripped it off the hydro pole on which it had been pasted, and took it with me to type it all out. So here it all is, laboriously typed out by hand, so I hope you appreciate it.

Thus saith Michael the Captain of the Lords Host,

The year I was born, they joined the Big League, and waited patiently for Me,

They didn’t play for last, no more two line pass, bring on the Holy Spirit Gas

To bring it into submission, you must surrender to a God, and agree on the vision

Good Grief, I love My Beloved Leafs, but Vancouver I desire to give the cup to thee

REVELATION 19 THROUGHT 22; EZEKIEL 9: DANIEL 12

I am Stanley’s Lord, drink from My cup, after the parade we will sit and sup

I AM the Man clothed in linen, with Trevor Linden, saying the Devils ain’t winning

Game 7, a loud trumpet sound, a musical ride gathered around

Oh Canada, don’t you see, New Jerusalem a virgin bride dressed for Me

Hebrews 13: Thessalonians 4:16-17

Skates of Fire, Stars on Ice, entertaining angels is it not nice

In 89, Al MacInnes stood on the line, Patrick Roy ducted every time

Lanny McDonald, I Am the Golden Arch, I began My shout on the 19th of March

Don Cherry, I Am the vine, you Me and Ron the Devils will whine

Matthew 24L Mathew 18:19, Daniel 12:1-4

Davey Crocket and the Richard Rocket, I have a cup, in My pocket,

Bobby Orr he shoots he scores, I AM Michael, I hold the oars

I row row row the boat, I Bless the Humble, and oppose the goat

If you want this gift from Me, get on your knes in My Name Jesus say please

Mark 13; Matthew 24; Luke 21

Uncle Steve and Wayne the future I see, Luongo, will stand on his head for Me

Hey twins call Sundin up, and tell him to come, and sip from My cup

Surroundd by the cops, the crowd weeps, and the tears will drop

The crowd will roar, the Master is home, as Roger packs the Thunder Dome

Revelation 14; 1st Thessalonians 4:16-17; Daniel 12:1-4

Scotties tissues, a tournament of hearst, as I tear her walls all apart

To her shall the Archangel sing, about a Seven Carrot, Diamond Ring

Hey B.C I aAm the Lion, I am Orion, and you are standing on Mount Zion

Before Christ, this is the blan, I long to give you the cup from My hand

Revelation CH 6 through CH 13 understand the silence Aug 26, 2011

The Pacific Rim, the Ring of Fire, all prepared for cowards and liars

A three game sweep, a three game come back, Michael and His Angels lead the attack

The Devil and his angels, all cast down, 7 trumpets and they will gather around

Gates and the Pope I will capture, the rest marked, and headed for disaster

Isaiah 11

Born to be My Baby, she gives love a bad name, The New Jersey Devils concede the game

Little Girl Airheart, I tore her world apart, IAM destined to win right from the start

Across the oceans her claim to fame, she is taking, My New Name in vain

In your hands, I command you to lift her up, Zion’s Daughter must raise My pup

Love OrionMichael Prince “MY NEW NAME” Rev 19:11-16; Rev CH 2 and 3

Email Michael_Prince777 AT yahoo.ca with questions and comments


Be a Movie Producer!

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or look just like one…

Oh god, not ANOTHER one!

Oh god, not ANOTHER one!

No, it’s true: this is a plan to enable you to put “movie producer” on your business card, which will come in handy on a Friday at the clubs, if no-where else. Actually, it will count for something with the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, who will allow any actual credited producer to purchase a ticket to the Academy Awards, better known as the Oscars.

Come to think of it, I’ve got a friend who’s always wanted to go. Hmmmm…

Allow me to introduce With Glowing Hearts, the motion picture:

So far, so awww, right? Yes, it’s an inspirational documentary, perhaps the least likely to be commercially successful genre of film in filmdom. How can you become a producer of this acclaimed-but-so-far-unreleased soon-to-be-classic? Easy; everybody knows there’s one way to become a producer.

You come up with the money.

In this case, you can come up with amounts as small as a Toonie:

Making a film costs money, and although we’ve done a great job at keeping our costs down there are certain expenses which are unavoidable. That’s why from now, until the middle of August, we’re running our Toonie and Tweet Torch Relay to help get us to the finish line and to get your name in the credits.  Starting with a minimum contribution of $2, “producers” can have their name published in a word cloud that will appear in the film’s credit roll and on this site. Increasing your contribution will increase the size of your name in the cloud.

All money collected will go directly towards costs related to finishing and distributing the film like insurance, music rights, and salaries for the great people who have been working on the film with us.  Just click on the Chip-In widget to the right and follow the instructions to use either your PayPal account or credit card, note that transactions are conducted in US dollars but will be converted to your local currency on your bill.  The name that is associated with your PayPal account is the same that will be used for the credits, if you would like a different name to appear in the credits please indicate that under “special instructions for vendor” on the “Review your payment” page.

Sure, it says mid-August, but if you ask nicely you’ll probably find there’s always room for more money (though perhaps it will need more zeros after the 2). Go on, haven’t you always wanted to be a Hollywood big shot? I hear Clooney is breaking up with his latest bimbette, so if you’re a brunette and you can get him good and drunk at the Vanity Fair afterparty, you’ve probably got a shot.

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Jesus and Shane McGowan

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Happy Birthday Jesus from Camden Town

Yes, they have the same birthday; it just seems so right, once you know it, doesn’t it?

And I was thinking of them both today, when I went out in this podunk town for a two-hour walk and, of all the people I passed, including the church group that was loudly praying to the empty downtown sidewalks, not one said, “Merry Christmas.”

Not one.

Now, I may live in a pretty ratfuck part of the big city, but we always hear that small towns are frendlier. It’s a certain fact I couldn’t walk around the Downtown Eastside for two hours without hearing Merry Christmas repeatedly, and sometimes even from sober persons. Whichever PR firm small towns are hiring to spread this myth around, they’ve earned their money, cuz not one word of that claim is true. Hell, the only one who even looked me in the eye was the chocolate lab whose owner yanked him roughly away because for a second I looked like I might pet the doggy. Oh, perish the thought.

So, the following pair of videos and the following classic Christmas story (which I post every year, and you should read every time I post it, you’ll thank me) go out to those three men I saw sitting on the bar stools at the pub, staring into space with one carefully calibrated empty seat between each of them, presumably for Clarence. Or Harvey.

Happy Birthday, Jesus:

Happy Birthday, Shane:

And Merry Christmas, Everyone!

This is simply the finest, most moving and remarkable Christmas story I have ever encountered, and I have, as I happened to have remarked recently, well over two dozen books of Christmas stories. Moving as it does from England to Saudi Arabia to the far eastern tip of Russia, it qualifies as multiculti, too! It is a unique jewel by an author who emerged from nowhere, left this small masterpiece for us, and vanished again into a swirling blizzard of obscurity. I’ll post it using the MORE tag, so that if you enjoy it you can read the rest. If you don’t enjoy it, I suggest you seek medical assistance promptly, for your brain matter must be leaking out your ears or something. Merry Christmas!

A Christmas Story
By Sarban (John W. Wall)

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Olympic Mural Rises Again

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crying room original olympic mural

original photo by The Blackbird

Have you seen this mural?

Not recently, you haven’t, because it was removed on the orders of Vancouver City Hall, which is apparently in the business of making sure the Olympic Committee don’t get their feelings hurt, rather than in the business of defending the rights of Canadians to the free expression guaranteed them under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

The gallery says in 10 years, it has never before been asked to remove any work.

The city issued the order under its graffiti bylaw, but it comes in the wake of a debate over a controversial city sign bylaw that opponents feared would allow officials to stifle anti-Olympic expression.

“It was pretty clear to me that it was because of the context of the work,” says Colleen Heslin, who runs the Crying Room, a small studio focusing on emerging artists.

Ms. Heslin points out that over the years she has hung about 30 murals there, and has never had any trouble. She has also used that space as a giant chalkboard, allowing passersby to write or draw whatever they wanted (which included swear words) and was never asked to remove that either.

In fact, when her landlord, Peter Wong, received a notice from the city telling him to remove the graffiti from his building, he had no idea what they were talking about. “I called them and said I cannot find the graffiti. And they said the sign [the mural] is graffiti…”

Patrick Smith, director of Simon Fraser University’s Institute of Governance Studies, said the removal of the sign is symptomatic of the high demands the “Olympic movement” places on its host cities. He believes Vancouver will be the beginning of a shift away from the modern Olympic era, with communities saying the cost of hosting is too high.

“A lot is asked of communities, and it seems to me this is a perfectly good example of where we’ve gone too far,” he said. “There’s no other way to describe it other than overreaction, but it’s the city trying to protect a brand that’s not the city’s brand. It’s the Olympic movement’s brand.”

Malcolm asked if the one in the bottom right-hand corner was Gregor Robertson.

And there was mourning throughout the land, or at least the Downtown Eastside. Even the revered and untouchable Globe and Mail, which had at first featured the image in its article, got out the virtual putty knives and scraped it right off their website, and the bittersweet little mural was removed from the face of the Earth AND the Googleplex.

But not for long, for over on Facebook a spontaneous, outraged movement started, a movement with sharpie-inscribed samizdat tee shirts and all manner of Olympic Mural as Facebook Profile Pic mayhem, and soon, just like in Peter Pan when Tink is dying and you clap your hands to save her (you DO clap your hands, don’t you? And ring a bell at Christmas, so an angel gets its wings? Of course you do, because you don’t want me to come over there and give your sorry motherfucking ass the beat-down), the heartfelt wishes of the good little boys and girls and the undecideds notthatthere’sanythingwrongwiththat all over the Downtown Eastside were heard and the mural rose again.

Here it is as of now:

Crying Room Olympic Mural Dec 13 2009

And, for as long as it lasts, you can see it in my Flickr stream, in my Facebook photos, on this blog, and at Main and Cordova.

As far as I can tell, it’s the original piece, with a little bit of touching up around the smiley face.

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