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SPORTS
Cougars looking to promised land
by Chris Jaster
(read)
Eyes on Sports
Go Bettman go!
by Steven Kiser
(read)
Fit as a fiddle
A dream we all share
by Julie Folk
(read)
Cougars control own destiny
by Chris Jaster
(read)
NEWS
NDP’ers speak amongst friends
by Jeanette Stewart
(read)
Arts plus co-op equals a useful degree
by Jeanette Stewart
(read)
Regina gets Bloc’d
by Chris Jaster
(read)
Loose a tonne and feel great
by Cassie Hawrysh
(read)
Trouble in paradise
by Stephane Bonneville
(read)
FEATURES
A reflection on England
by Morgan bradshaw
(read)
ARTS
Aught four: The year in film
by Dan MacRae, Steven Kiser, Cassie Ozog and Kent Farago
(read)
Artistic License
Humanities darkest hour
by Emily Elias
(read)
Spliced Politics in film: not rubbish
by Luke Fandrich
(read)
2004: Year of the biopic
by Ryan Good
(read)
COMMENTARY
Racism rears its ugly head
Editorial
(read)
Bad moon rising
Commentary
by Justin Ludwig
(read)
Confessions of a freshman
I pierced my face
by Amy O’Teri
(read)
At the Gates
Food, faith and friends
by Lee Harding
(read)
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Bad moon rising
Commentary
by Justin Ludwig
the Carillon
An update
on how Earth
is screwed ...
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It’s a new year and we’re back in place, braving the chill from the belly of the beast. January is a long and ugly month in Saskatchewan. Holiday cheer has given way to hangover, and spring thaw is too distant to be real. There is a new semester and with it, new headaches, although right now it seems difficult to complain with human suffering so abundant and so real in other, distant places.
I think the world is smaller and stranger than any of us really imagined. A quarter-million people are dead because the Earth got restless and shifted its position. Bodies float like lily pads amid the debris, without graves or ceremony. That’s intense. As such, any problems or dramas that exist here, whether they be intercontinental love stories, the plight of the working stiff, or our heavy, isolating blanket of snow. That all seems fairly trivial.
One of the things I found most disheartening about the Tsunami with a huge capital “T” was, predictably, the American news coverage of the story. There almost seemed to be a tiny thrill in the reporting; it was a story that provided all the horrific imagery of a hurricane hitting a plague-infested slum, but there was no risk of aftershock. The damage was done. These people were Screwed with a capital “S,” and worms from CNN, ITV and CBS sunk their teeth in like it was leftover Christmas ham.
Now, am I writing exploitation into a sincere narrative for the sake of cynicism? Perhaps. It never really struck me until I saw a CNN profile of one of the “victim” families: wealthy Americans with a Thai beachside estate that lost, and I’m not making this up, their swimming pool and garage. The patriarch, a fat man with bleached blonde hair, spoke of his “devastation.”
Or maybe it was seeing the word TSUNAMI, digitally plastered behind Dan Rather’s head at six o’clock like it was the name of a rock band he was warning parents about, printed in the same font as the COPS logo. Or maybe it was seeing images of the horror sandwiched between 2004 Best-Of lists and traffic warnings for overcrowded American superhighways.
But alas, this is no time for my tired potshots at Americanism. The U.S., along with so many other countries, have pledged huge sums of money and volunteer aid in the now phenomenal humanitarian effort that has rushed to the aid of the devastated coast. People are banding together in a truly awesome way. Doctors, troops, relief workers; these people make me feel small, sitting behind some keys hurling criticisms at others. Maybe I too am one of the worms.
At least the animals came out alive. They could feel it coming and ran for the hills. Here, in the sweet of the west, we have our own waves to deal with. And that’s what we all need to do, in the harrowing quiet of this January, while we still have the chance: anticipate the worst, but keep reaching for higher ground.
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