A Little Microfiction

Frogger

A student sat in his truck. The previous night he witnessed two of his fuck-drunk friends get hit by a car. They ran into an intersection, hands interlocked, and were both promptly t-boned by a doddery old man driving a silver Toyota Corolla. The front end of the vehicle exploded, sending glass, carbon fiber, and human body alike flying through the air in a morbid yet glorious display of fragility. The only clue he had as to their well-being was a grim news report that claimed they were both in critical condition. 

His mind drifted into a cynical tangent about the pointlessness of life. He thought about the frailty of his homeless father, whose death was rapidly approaching. He thought about the last moments he spent with his friend Martine, her face yellow and gaunt due to the chemotherapy. He thought about how, around exactly the same time last year, his best friend Michael was murdered. His thoughts were eventually interrupted by a man with a gun.

 “If you’re going to shoot me, just do it, because—” The car-jacker shot the student in the head. Blood spattered his “FUCK CANCER” air freshener.

He awoke being greeted by his dead friend Michael. Audioslave’s Doesn’t Remind Me played loudly just beyond a pair of golden gates. It was a party.

“We don’t have much time, so we better make this quick,” said Michael. He grabbed the student by the arm and lead him through a door made of cloud.

“Am I in heaven?” asked the student.

“Not exactly,” replied Mike.

“How did you know I would be arriving?”

“I saw your name roll by on the ‘possible invites’ ticker.”

They arrived in a warehouse the size of a football stadium. A single jumbotron hung from nothingness.  Mike pulled out a remote control that read CROSBIE-FUTURE. He pressed the on button and flipped through channels before stopping at a scene depicting the student’s funeral.  

“As you can see, your friends made it. Nothing but a couple broken bones and bruised egos.” The student opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

“It gets better.”  Mike flipped to another channel. One of the student's friends was down on one knee, proposing to the other.

“They really hit it off after the whole human frogger ordeal,” said Michael. The student was flabbergasted.

“Now I really need you to pay attention to these next ones.” Michael brandished another remote that read CROSBIE-PAST. A myriad of the student’s favourite memories played out on the screen. He watched as his younger self picked mussels with his father. He watched himself smile for a photo with Martine at her wedding. The student began to cry as Michael showed him the final memory. The screen showed the student and Michael laughing hysterically in a garage while they smoked a hookah pipe. 

“Why are you showing me this Mike?” said the student.

“When you wake up I want you to remember how beautiful it is to be alive.”

Photo Credit: 4Pictures


GEORDIN CROSBIE

Just a 23-year-old Irishman stuck in the city that fun forgot, cutting through the bullshit one story at a time. My hobbies include pretending I’m a scribbler, navigating sobriety, and consuming lemon-flavoured libations. I imagine myself becoming a famous writer one day, but if that doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on cooking professionally and screaming at people. 

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From Trigger to Twitter Fingers

This week in sensationalism I will be turning my attention to the music industry—specifically, the “beef” that has been brewing between west coast hip-hop figureheads Snak The Ripper and Madchild. News outlets have been quick to perpetuate the veracity of the conflict, going so far as to say that the beef is reminiscent of Biggie and Tupac, and that it is threatening to “…TEAR APART WESTERN CANADA.” Yes, Noisey actually reported this. Seriously. 

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What is more embarrassing is how all this malarky got started. Unlike hip-hop beefs of the 90’s where spats were usually instigated by actual violence and murder, this beef was ignited because of a tweet. Yes, a tweet. This is not as a result of gats popping and bodies dropping, this is a result of Madchild tweeting “Snak The Rippers name should be Snak the loud mouth piece of shit talking bitch…” Now I know there is a probably more to the story than this tweet, but the fact that Snak The Ripper decided to proceed and publicly address the situation as a result of said tweet says it all. This is the passive aggressive beef of 2015 where rappers throw shots over Instagram instead of out the window of their caddies. It’s less entertaining, but at least nobody is actually getting killed as a result.

This hasn’t stopped them from talking about violence, though. In true hip-hop fashion, a barrage of diss tracks were recorded and released in the following weeks as a result of the tweet, and each rapper took their turns taking shots that ranged from personal to fantastical. They talked about shtooping each others loved ones, they talked about how full of shit each other were—and most importantly to the media, they talked about killing each other. It was all done in a very passive aggressive “I should do this to you because you said that” manner, but nonetheless it garnered a lot of attention. Both rappers had been struggling for views on their most recent musical efforts, and it appears that the salacious and violent nature of this beef has reignited interest among fans. 

Which brings me to the point of this little rant. The only people that are losing here are the fans. Both of these artists have an extremely devoted fan base—so much so that each respective rapper considers them as a family—and with this beef they are being pitted against each other. The rappers have acknowledged this and were both quick to comment that they don’t want to see any violence occur among fans as a result of their issues with one another. Unfortunately, their concerns are hard to take seriously when they talk about killing each other while brandishing machetes bigger than themselves in their videos. 

These rappers claim that they have created music movements that allow fans to be part of a family instead of simply a fan club. They also claim that they are rooted in positivity and not for profit, yet they have membership packages and merchandise for each prospective movement. Madchild’s “Battleaxe Warriors” have apparel that is curiously reminiscent of biker gang attire—even though Madchild preaches against gang affiliation— and Snak The Ripper's “Stompdown Killaz” have similarly provocative imagery with a ski mask crossed by baseball bats as its logo. Now I’m not saying there's any causal link between merchandise and gangsterism, but come on guys—really?

I really hope the young, naïve, and immature fans alike see through this bullshit, because it would be pretty ridiculous to see violence or negativity come as a result of allegiance to either one of these “positive music movements.” 

Photo Credit: Thumbnail of "Fatal Attraction (snack diss)" by Madchild                                                                                                           Video Credit: Madchild


Geordin Crosbie

Just a 23-year-old Irishman stuck in the city that fun forgot, cutting through the bullshit one story at a time. My hobbies include pretending I’m a scribbler, navigating sobriety, and consuming lemon-flavoured libations. I imagine myself becoming a famous writer one day, but if that doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on cooking professionally and screaming at people. 

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Ain't Love Fickle

This week in sensationalism, I’m going to take a leave of absence from navigating any actual sensationalism and instead tackle something personal. I am also going to do this in such a way that will abandon the usual comic-cynicism for brutal honesty, so please forgive me if this post is not sprinkled with the usual comic relief and fart jokes. 

I probably will be penalized for deviating from my own narrative, but I don’t care. I am at my wit's end. If I have to force myself to sift through one more post about sensationalist bullshit or overt hypocrisy, I'm probably going to go postal. I can’t get this off my mind, so I might as well make something positive out of the situation and write about it. So grab your little violins people because this one's a doozy.

Last night was like any other night with my girlfriend. We made dinner, we danced, we laughed, and we talked about our future together. We were just coming off heels of one the greatest weeks I have ever spent with her—or anyone for that matter—and to say it has been magical would be an understatement. Alas, good times can be fleeting, and unfortunately my Irish luck (aka no luck at all) caught up with me. I was making a quick Google search on her phone when I noticed the previous searches pop up as I typed. In said suggestions - among others - were searches regarding “what to do if I cheat on my boyfriend.” Naturally, I was curious as to the context of these searches so I simply asked her “Whaddup with dat?” Unfortunately, she didn’t have to answer. Her face said it all. Later, she would cop to cheating on me while also informing me that it happened weeks ago.

Now I don’t know what's more embarrassing, being lied to for this long, being lied to under advice from Cosmo magazine, or writing this while listening to Stonefox’s “All I Want.”

If this had happened last year, I probably would be still sleeping off a biblical hangover and waking up with a stranger, but you know what? I am so glad that this is no longer the case. I don’t ever want to be that person again. Ironically, and somewhat paradoxically, I have only Leslie to thank for this radical change in behaviour. I am man enough to admit she has been one of the most positive and profound influences I have ever had in my life.

And now for the point of this little rant. 

One of the most valuable things I have learned over the last couple of years is that it is much easier to hate than it is to love. Consequently, I have also learned that what is easy is not always right, and what is hard is what so often sets us free. I do not hate her for this, nor am I going to allow myself to become jaded by what she has done. She had her reasons, some valid, some not, and I accept that. For better or for worse, I will always love her, and I have no regrets. We probably won't make it through this, but that’s beside the point. This circular phenomenon of girl hurts guy, guy becomes asshole (or vice versa) is a toxic human behaviour pattern that needs to stop. It solves nothing and accomplishes even less. All there is to do now is remember the good times, disregard the bad, pick up the pieces, and move on. 

Photo Credit: Geordin Crosbie


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GEORDIN CROSBIE

Just a 23-year-old Irishman stuck in the city that fun forgot, cutting through the bullshit one story at a time. My hobbies include pretending I’m a scribbler, navigating sobriety, and consuming lemon-flavoured libations. I imagine myself becoming a famous writer one day, but if that doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on cooking professionally and screaming at people. 

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Tim Hunt And The Witch Hunt

This week in sensationalism I bring you the curious case of Tim Hunt, the shunned Nobel Prize-winning biochemist, who sabotaged his illustrious career due to “incendiary” comments he recently made about women in science. For those not familiar with the case, Tim Hunt was asked to share a few words in front of an audience of female journalists and scientists at the aptly-titled 2015 World Conference of Science Journalists, in Seoul. After brief preparation, Hunt went out and delivered a lackadaisical speech that really showcased his penchant for awkward humour, audience awareness, and verbal diarrhea. He opened thusly:

“It's strange that such a chauvinist monster like me has been asked to speak to women scientists. Let me tell you about my trouble with girls. Three things happen when they are in the lab: you fall in love with them, they fall in love with you, and when you criticize them, they cry. Perhaps we should make separate labs for boys and girls?”

Brutal, right? He continued:

“Now, seriously, I'm impressed by the economic development of Korea. And women scientists played, without doubt, an important role in it. Science needs women, and you should do science, despite all the obstacles, and despite monsters like me.”

Absolutely cringe-worthy. An epic fail, as the kids would say. As you can imagine, these comments—although made in a naive attempt at humour— didn’t quite jive with the female community at large, and what ensued was a veritable shit storm delivered by the hands of social justice warriors, feminists, and female scientists alike— a shit storm the likes of which our goofy little friend Tim Hunt could have never anticipated. Social media and online publications had a field day with him, dragging his name through the mud and chastising him for the “cruel, Victorian era” tone of his comments, as well as accusing him of overt misogyny. In an attempt to cover their ass, University College London promptly urged Hunt to resign from his position and academia severed all ties. He was blacklisted.

Now I know what you may be thinking. You may be thinking, “So what? He deserved it." And I couldn’t disagree with you more. Here’s why.

Context. It was simply a joke.  A joke made in momentously bad taste, but a joke nonetheless. Mainstream media, of course, disregarded this fact, and quickly lambasted him through the paraphrasing of quotes just to make a story. And so began the witch hunt. It happens all too often. The media makes a story where there isn’t one, sprinkles in a little misogyny,  and naturally the sheep flocked. Why? I can only speculate. But if I were to guess, I would say it has a lot to do with the increasing momentum of the North-American-Female-Victim narrative that the media has been voraciously perpetuating. This is simply shitty journalism in the same vein of the UVA rape case

Tim Hunt’s story is a quintessential example of outrage politics and shaming being taken way too far. Robbing a man—or woman for that matter—of his or her entire life's work for some stupid comments made in jest is just pathetic. Where is the due diligence? Why did the campus not let Hunt tell his side of the story? Why is the public so quick to chastise people without digging any deeper into the story? I think I may know, but I’m going stop here for fear of being misquoted. 

Photo Credit: Thumbnail from Beautiful Minds Series 1


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GEORDIN CROSBIE

Just a 23-year-old Irishman stuck in the city that fun forgot, cutting through the bullshit one story at a time. My hobbies include pretending I’m a scribbler, navigating sobriety, and consuming lemon-flavoured libations. I imagine myself becoming a famous writer one day, but if that doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on cooking professionally and screaming at people. 

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Harper, It's Been Real

It has been an interesting month for Harper-inspired nonsense. Well, come to think of it, it's always been interesting, as he’s been mastering said caveat ever since he was elected. It really has been happening more frequently as each week passes by, but I digress. What makes this month’s nonsense far more interesting than those that preceded it, is that it is so close to election time; and with said election just days away, you've gotta wonder whether he is just doing this to rouse the conservative muppets, or give one last “screw you” to the rest of us. Let's get into this shit.

The Niqab debate. What a debacle. This smoke screen, carefully-constructed divide-and-conquer strategy, or completely justified talking point—whatever it is—has put the common rabble in quite a tizzy. The Liberals and NDP stand beside the Charter, and the idea that anyone, regardless of faith, sexual orientation, or ethnicity, should be able to express their religious freedoms. They feel as if the debate is manufactured, and essentially a moot issue—especially during election time— and does more to distract Canadians than inform them. The Conservatives—a.k.a. Harper— on the other hand, seem to be taking this bold approach, so as to rally the splintered conservative votership who are still on the fence. By exploiting Zunera Ishaq’s story—and subsequent notoriety in the media— Harper is able to frame the narrative and control the discourse, thereby rallying citizens with conservative values, but who don’t share his views on policy. I hate to admit it, but the plan is genius.  

Stunt No.2— Harper’s response to the Syrian refugee crisis. In totally characteristic, albeit undemocratic fashion, the PMO has all of a sudden decided that they are the authority in decision-making related to citizenship and refugee admission policy.  Even though we have three federally-operated departments responsible for approving and overseeing the admittance of refugees, Harper has basically taken the stance that his office should unilaterally be involved in this process because, well, screw you and Bill C-51. Na-na-na boo-boo. No longer does the PMO regard the guidance of the United Nations, CSIS, CBSA, and CIC. Instead they would rather rely on the “expertise” of bureaucrats and yuppies, whose day-to-day activities involve sitting on Parliament Hill, covering up their whoopsies, and pretending they understand complex issues outside of their own political agendas. 

Let’s all pray that the majority of “enlightened” Canadians see past this bullshit and tick the “anything-but-Harper” box on their ballots come October 19th. 

Photo Credit: Mikael Kjellstrom


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GEORDIN CROSBIE

Just a 23-year-old Irishman stuck in the city that fun forgot, cutting through the bullshit one story at a time. My hobbies include pretending I’m a scribbler, navigating sobriety, and consuming lemon-flavoured libations. I imagine myself becoming a famous writer one day, but if that doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on cooking professionally and screaming at people. 

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fruity pic.jpg

Geordin Crosbie

Just a 22-year-old Irishman stuck in the city that fun forgot, cutting through the bullshit one story at a time. My hobbies include pretending I’m a scribbler, navigating sobriety, and consuming lemon-flavoured libations. I imagine myself becoming a famous writer one day, but if that doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on cooking professionally and screaming at people.