That Canadian Feeling

I rarely identify as Canadian on the international scene, except when nothing else gets understood.

I do, however, fully identify with this year's Miss Canada contestant in the Miss Universe pageant, who went all-out Canadian stereotype (minus, say, beer, maple syrup and poutine) for her amazing uniform, preferring fun (with winks to the sometimes off-the-wall absurdity of High Fashion) to sexiness or whatever else might make a judge look at her beauty instead of her character:

The internets were both aflame and all-praise for her boldness, and I stand firmly in the line of ''backers'' on this one.

The score (20-14) reflects the year she was crowned Miss Canada, but some idiots went misogynistic in their disapproval (''is that the number of guys she's just had'') while others doubted her hockey knowledge (''those are football scores / there are no touchdowns in hockey dummy''), but I have decided to not promote angry adults living in their parents' basements because they're still grounded from 20 years ago; they can keep doing what they've been doing most of their lives and fuck themselves.

Kudos to you, Chanel Beckenlehner, for having the galls to have balls and character, not just stunning looks and a degree in Political Sciences from the University of Toronto. I don't know if you've won or will win Miss Universe, but you've won my respect.

Video Of The Week (Year?): Meghan Trainor

The theme for bubblegum pop this year was ''ass'', from Nicki Minaj's Anaconda to Jennifer Lopez' Booty to Jason Derulo's Wiggle to Meghan Trainor's All About The Bass, which is the subject of this week's post.

Now, it's a bit of a stretch to call Trainor ''fat'' by any measure, but the song isn't actually just about big behinds, it's about the fact that not all girls are ''size two'', with a subtext of ''love who you are, however you are'' but has been confused by idiots as ''anti-feminism'' and ''thin-shaming''.

But everybody's so fucking soft these days, looking for the right reason to be offended by the slightest fucking thing, and if a pop song makes you cry or want to kill yourself, then perhaps the world would be a better place if you did. Or maybe a shrink should make their career (and send their children's children to college) by saving you - either/or, I really don't care.

But again, with the extreme victimization, you just can't have nice things anymore without someone complaining. Political correctness was stupid and cute in the 1980s, but having one's feelings hurt seems to be a tad too easy for some people nowadays, particularly considering the social context we're living in on this planet: third-world famine, instituted corruption, child and slave labor rampant in Asia and Africa, institutionalized racism still prevailing in the American justice system (with a subtext of uniformed public servants never being accountable for their crimes), generalized unwarranted austerity measures throughout the Western world, Equality taking a nosedive in North America, oil companies raping and pillaging the land for a few measly bucks while contaminating the water supply and all surrounding animal life... you'd think people would wake the fuck up and concentrate on saving the broader picture.

But no. Boo-hoo, one girl said thin people aren't the norm.

Instead, they focus on a 21-year-old's lyrics and dissect them past the point of any meaning to find buried in three or four layers of humour something they take offense to. Well, that's their prerogative. Mine is to get this song - the catchiest tune of 2014 - out of my head eventually. But in the meantime, I'll laugh along with Meghan Trainor, who is smart, funny, fun, quirky, cuddly, cute, and probably sarcastic beyond belief.

Every Size Fits All

Slowly but surely, ''normalty'' is making its way into the fashion world and women's magazines.

Reminds me of the Lizzie Miller story...

Was Your Mom Hot?

I don't know what would prompt someone to claim their mom was hot, and even less to put up pictures of her on the interwebs.

But it's there. I mean: here.

Lizzie Miller: Groundbreaker - Or Glitch In The Matrix?

So Glamour made a healthy model (Lizzie Miller) a centerpiece of its last edition by showing her nude, un-airbrushed, showing a small belly and womanly curves. Most readers gave it praise for finally showing a normal, healthy woman - with reason. She's damn beautiful - and I say that with not usually liking blondes in particular.

But are we witnessing the rebirth of the actual Hot Woman (i.e. not one that is shaped like a 9-year-old boy), or is this just one eye candy before we go back to constantly seeing cocaine-fueled double-digit-weighing anorexic boobless walking sacks of bone?

My guess: I'm sure that despite the overwhelmingly positive reaction to this, it'll soon blow over and we'll have super-skinny/unhealthy models again for a long time, if only because Society's brains have been fed it so long it forgot anything better exists.

It's sad, but the way the world has been going this past decade, the spiral just seems intent on heading downwards until... well, we'll know when we get there, and we're not going to like it. As a species. Urgh.