Imagine a world in which a Volt host were so gay that he dressed in women’s clothing with no provocation whatsoever.
You live in that world already.
One does not entirely understand the fausse pub for la moutarde Volt, in which an unexpectedly-clean-shaven JS stalks a jar and wrestles it to an unexpectedly-clean floor in a kitchen that does not appear to belong to a low-income employee living in a crumbling high-rise. Certainly one notes a graphical resemblance to President’s Choice in the label.
One of the few black Francophones in Ontario chats us up about SARS. As Thérèse our hostess points out, she’s quite credible. Next, Gino Mucuso interviews some white Francophone about all the same things. Something about washing your hands after sneezing. Good to see the Voltistes getting out of Yonge & Eg, not that rue du Collège at Yonge St. is much of a step up. (There isn’t even a Sporting Life down there!)
But the Starfux at Yonge and du Collège is so hot, after all. With crystal-clear audio!
How Freddie Got His Fauxhawk Back.
I think it’s taken the last twenty airings of Det. Gomez and Lt. Lalancette for me to figure it out.
Renée’s hair colour (hair remains the most pressing issue faced by TFO) seems to have equalized somewhat. Her segment on lucky charms contained, I suppose, a certain limited educational value, bringing hosers in the North up to speed on common superstitions.
Two guys in hazmat suits blast Thérèse with fire extinguishers. Everyone’s fantasy, shurely?!
So have the wankers at Volt bought my damned book yet?
Pleasingly, Fred hosts the episode. But even I have a wider range of shirts than he. I’ve upped my clothing budget. Up yours!
What, as the kids have no doubt recently ceased to say, the fuck is Nadia doing in her segment, apart from Stupid Outaouais Tricks?
While I’m waiting for this interminable segment to draw to a conclusion (or at least a termination), let’s perform autogooglatio. TFO Volt results in a link to these pages in fifth and sixth position. You do understand that Google makes any Web author unkillable?
(Autoallthewebatio returns a fusillade of fawny.org pages.)
Crystal(s) et Monique recount their first meeting. Why, it was aboard the Sun Princess 3. (David Foster Wallace, come on down!) And indeed the Cadbury secret is revealed: They were wearing the same bikini.
A consistently well-written segment. Put a reel together and send it to the homosexualist film festivals, not that Volt has ever heeded my advice on this score.
You think Fred might function well as a father? Probably. Would he hightail it out of town after his woman drops a foal?
Frankie completely flubs the intro, worse even than his early days. Perhaps my confidence regained has been squandered.
How tremendously amusing to find Nadyne down in Cabbagetown for some kind of prerelease party for Brother Love Canal. (Anything actually new on that record, Steve?) Great venue, I must say. To Volt’s credit, they at least fail to misspell Steve’s surname as variously Digay or Diguay.
The amusement continues as Nadyne trolls the audience for impartial homosexualists and Jewesses, who provide needed plugola for the house band of Volt. So that’s what Guy’s doing these days.
Oh. Question here. In Badda-Bingo and other segments, fuck gets bleeped, but not tonight (on some ten occasions). So qu’est-ce qu’il y a de up avec ça?
«La Bande 100 pareil ROCK» runs us through a zillion French puns. Rather droll, actually.
Frankie MCs a decade-out-of-date segment on body image and unreasonably thin fashion models. (A tiny sop to overbuilt male models was implied, and there was some entirely irrelevant mention of rap stars, but this is all about girls.)
Donna dedans de l’Entertainment – with actual content this time! The question, however, is always: Who’s the bigger girl?
And really, tonight’s show is a pale shadow of that simple music video. One is not entirely and completely buying this episode’s White Trash Night. Tautological, shurely?! And I believe Simon, as Stoner, reposed on that very same lawnchair.
Music videos were played. “Swing Swing [Swing]” by the All-American Rejects.
Is Sylvain still directing, ou quoi?
What is the difference between un steak pis un pénis?
«Le ciel est vide» by les Vulgairs Machins.
Today’s episode of Polisses (still directing, Sylvain?) was of course sped up. And is still rather disturbing. I would note that Maxime appears to be wearing Crystal Cousineau-Pâquette’s apron.
«Le teint de Linda» by Maria Tremblay. “Men That You Fear” by Marilyn Manson, all sepia.
Who is the audience for these pages? Voltistes, the general public, lurking admirers, lurking opponents?
All of the above, I assume.
How many Voltistes read this site with dread or exaggerated paranoia?
Even with a female in unaccustomed proximity (piggybacking), Frankie Grisé does a solid intro. He is, on the whole, continuing to improve.
Fred does a phoner (équivalent français, «un phoner») with a school principal. Not much to look at, apart from his rich chestnut-brown hair and Nalgene bottle (MEAN PEOPLE SUCK BITE). I prefer the narrow-necked models, and you wouldn’t catch me dead with a pink one.
Actually, I like Fred’s asymmetrical raglan-sleeved sport shirt. Having no bodyfat whatsoever comes in handy, despite the unfeasibly long arms.
Is there a topic at hand? Right. Nutrition. All the school and cafeteria-industry apologists interviewed were essentially busted: No, they’re not gonna serve healthy food, because that’s not what the contractors want them to sell.
What do the vegan kids have to eat? And don’t delude yourself there aren’t any!
Nadyne: “OK, girls, yeast infections.” I pays good money to keep away from such things.
Nadyne hostesses. She’s pretty good. Today, it’s all about youth employment.
Renée seemed to be giving a strong segment on writing a CV (though Crystal’s demo résumé should have been reproduced in Chyrons, not in fuzzy closeups from a printout on overswanky paper) until she revealed that she had cribbed her entire segment from a for Dummies title.
One of which I would obviously never write. I’ve never even read one. I have that strong an objection.
Félix, in his hyper but manly way, walks us through being a Francophone in Toronto, again its own punchline. His interview – the subject is volunteerism – is underesposed (fill-flash!), while his rather brave turn as a sidewalk troubadour is overexposed. That takes guts. It’s also a clever writing job.
The fact that Volt could interview so many functionaries involved just on the periphery of youth employment is further evidence there are far too many government workers for the 2.1% of Torontonians who speak French.
Given my vaguely wonklike or otakuist tendencies, I rather enjoyed Nadia’s exposition of barcodes. Obviously!
Great instrument Nadyne and Nadia have to chat up demistars (the only kind Canada has) at the Junos: A bucketful o’ candy! Shania Twain, let’s be frank, was very game and straightforward with the puny Volt team. That reflects well on her.
Shawn Desman seems like a sweetie, and based on his interview on BPMTV, was quite plainly had, worse than any poor Southern soul singer in the 1960s. To paraphrase Iggy Pop, Desman “got screwed in the business.”
Now, this fausse pub, which seems to go on forever, in which Frankie reads Vice and counsels Fred, as if homosexually, on what to wear... as with several fausses pubs over the years, it bespeaks of the writing skill Volt can muster if it needs to. Odd little avant-garde minifilms.
Jorane. The myth. The magic.
We are ushered down memory lane as Fred delivers a CD “chronicle.” And induces swooning by simply mentioning Marc Déry.
Culturally-specific music videos. «Souris» by le Nombre. “Seventeen” by Ladytron, both of whose albums I bought fair and square, thank you very much. «Paranoïa» by Vénus 3. “Dead in Hollywood” by the Murderdolls (why, exactly?), with no captions. “Not Falling” by Mudvayne.
What’s this about le Nombre charting in the States?
Now, why the hell had I never seen «La science pour tous»! Right up my alley. A keeper.
Incomprehensible fausse pub for Volt Mobilité, which does little more than provide evidence that Fred is among the Voltistes who shaves his shoulders. Possibly some of the girls do it too.
Fred’s the host today, in that very oddball asymmetrical raglan-sleeve T he favours. (I like it. He pulls it off. As, no doubt, would his... what is the word? Girlfriend?) His fauxhawk today looks more like a moundhawk.
Earth Day, huh? Does anyone remember the star-studded genesis of the Earth Communications Office, author of the Patrick Stewart–narrated PSA in today’s episode? “No need to worry anymore. Hollywood is handling it!”
And they’ve got some kind of tremendously avant-garde national-French-accented journalist on the show today. He pulls off the bald/beard/glasses/party-hoops schtick surprisingly well, no doubt because of the sincerity of his eyes (and he has quite poor eyesight). He is evidently also a redhead. To be credible and avant-garde is an uncommon combination. Charles-Antoine Rouyer.
Why is Fred so damned out of breath?
So we’re back with Mathieu Pichette’s Système de recyclage Volt fausse pub, in tremendously bad taste with Guy all dead and spread-lapeled.
Is it true that Guy looks better on TV than he does in person? Yes, actually.
I think Nadia has something resembling a sense of humour when she authorizes herself to be sarcastic, as when interviewing Ottawa schoolkids about environmentalism. “People on the street should stop smoking.” “Just on the street? They can keep doing it in the alleyways?”
Excruciating phoner with some kid who speaks French in English word order and thinks «annulée» is actually «cancellée.»
So. Nadyne tries to function an entire day without power. Um... working at a TV station? Nobody said she couldn’t have an oven: My oven is gas.
Now, was I talking about Guy before?
Yes. I was. And here he is back again! I guess the options for French-speaking journalists in Toronto are even worse than I had thought. He couldn’t take refuge at CBC somewhere or something?
Well-dressed as ever (he of course self-declared as such in an infamous segment), my impression here is how very much thinner and narrower of beam he is compared to Fred, who is a giant manhunk by comparison. Of course, all he’s doing today is surfing Web sites, which requires as much effort as, say, throwing to porn on PrideVision.
Guy’s red dye job has got to go.
What’s up with Fred’s two-faced schtick, all respectable and beshirted on one side and punked-out and shirty on the other?
Am I the only one who was shocked by the thorough rightness and power of Fred in a leather bracelet? I don’t usually like that shit.
Stunning segment with white trash and Frankie as literary spectre–Cassandra–chorus.
“Would you have liked, at this age, to do such a thing?” “Where would you drive such a vehicle?” Fred exhibits second-language interference from the French un(e) tel(le).
However, great segment on the punk shows at the Oakville Y.
Oh, for fuck sakes. More homosexualist propaganda as Renée “SEX-POSITIVE” Gallien reviews some Quebec novel about a young fag. Later, Fred asks if only homosexualists will be interested in it. Obviously not – straight girls, too. And nobody else.
Are there any straight people on Volt?
And can Renée please provide a citation, preferably in a peer-reviewed journal, for her claim that 40% of young suicide attempts in Quebec are linked to homosexualism?
However, the mofo author, Guillaume Bourgault, is twenty-fucking-two.
“What hints would you give for viewers who would like to publish a book?” “Well, first of all, you need to write it.” Very Jesus of Montreal. (“I think you should publish a book.” “I’m not much of a writer.” “I said publish a book.”)
A bookseller (such a twee word) wins the lottery. Now he’s a millionaire. “So,” his friend asks him, “what are you gonna do with the money? Go on vacation or something?” “No,” he says. “I’m just going to keep selling books until it’s all gone.”
«Vidéoclips foqués»?
“Sexx Laws” by Beck, hideously formulaic and predictable and faux-lively. It’s appalling, frankly. «Je n’arrive pas à danser» by TTC: Surreal, and it works. It’s possible that rap is compatible with surrealism. I suppose the achondroplasic dwarf was a bit de trop.
“Karmacoma” by Massive Attack.
One notes that, at the termination of the Joe Volt fausse pub, Simon unzips Jean-Louis’s fly and hikes up his shorts. Everyone’s fantasy, shurely?!
“Danger<bang> High Voltage” by Electric 6. Why does this sound like a remix of something by the Box?
“Afrika Shox” by Leftfield yet again.
Loved the segment with Hugo Girard, with the filing and painting of nails. He’s also one of the few nonugly “strongmen.” I can think of maybe two others. Even more rare is the “strongman” with visible abdominals. That’s just not the somatotype.
I don’t get the bit with Francine bearing Fred across the threshold.
In today’s fashion show, only the girls could be said to wear fashion. Fred simply wore clothes. Though they did make him look gay. (“Is he gay or is he French?”) The camérafemme Tina actually looks really great, even quasi-Icelandic. This bullshit about Frankie looking like Happy fucking Gilmore is bogus. Scarily, though, the cap works on him.
So, I suppose, would a beret.
Live on Release were of no interest whatsoever.
Wasn’t the viewer likeness of the Gars du balcon just the greatest?
Our kids. We love them.
Nadyne interviews dancers at some training school. Toronto School of Modern Dance Theatre 3000 or whatever. Tremendously impressive fluency of two people with English names. Actually, a strong segment.
As was the next one, with some kind of Lebanese breakdancer. Who would have thought breakdancers were sweeties? (This one did not have a neck of death, unfortunately.)
One notes a repeat of Crystal(s) et Monique.
Another frigging repeat.