The lone holder of the Caribbean flag, multi-racial, multi-lingual, multi-cultural, and a cosmopolitan vagrant who has managed to slip past immigration protocols to squat in Calgary, and who troubles the discussions of the better-bred with irreverent punditry.
Books under discussion are fiercely researched and points drawn up for review, debate or merciless dissection. I love books the way a starving kid loves Angelina Jolie’s tit and so I want quality in my reading. In our get-togethers, I look for strife and chaos and controversy, and will unhesitatingly challenge prevailing wisdom and sloppy thinking, or wussy books choices (in my not-so-humble opinion, which may not be the one that counts, but…). The choice of reading materials must be defended by all (including me). It’s not enough to just “like” a book — I “like” my mother-in-law after a pub crawl: it doesn’t mean I want to discuss her all night.
Among my multitudinous interests, I amuse myself by teetering on the edge of sobriety while not lurching over the abyss into drunkenness, as I prefer to pass my time somewhere in between either of these two precipitous extremes. I’m cheerfully vulgar and possess a crude sense of humour which is somewhat at odds with the purported sophistication to which I pretend. I love the breadth and subtlety of the English language and like nothing better than to show off to the hordes of the illiterate riffraff and masses of the unwashed peasantry by using pollysyllabic words that don’t actually mean anything. I despise hypocrisy and doublethink (unless they are my own), and having an utter abhorrence for all kinds of physical activity (except the one you’re thinking of), I therefore much prefer armchair sports and activities requiring no exertion and zero thought, for which my current job prepares me admirably
I dabble in photography, art, travel (for which I think I should be paid), and appreciate good writing, and an elegantly crafted argument. As far as I’m concerned, you’re wrong when you disagree with me (and should be horsewhipped for the crass impertinence of doing so) but will always admire a smoothly specious line of b.s. meant to convince me otherwise. And I do love my movies. When not discussing books or likker or that other subject, Curt and I are usually wasting time making up “top-five” lists containing seventeen films (when he isn’t trying to get me to watch “Survivor”.) Depending on my state of sobriety I speak between three and six languages, but can spout impecunious and objurgatory vulgarities in at least seventeen (so look it up).
To the horror of many, alas, I do not really care for whiskies, in spite of everything the Last Hippie is desperately doing to change my allegiance — this may be my heritage coming through, since no West Indian who is a true West Indian will ever bother with anything but rum unless he has been changed abroad. My preference is simply otherwise…and the peaty, smoky flavours of whiskies do nothing for me, unlike a good caramel sweet (and anyone who has seen me scarf Haagen-Dasz can testify to this). This is why I drink rum, ignore tequila and (at best) nod to vodkas. I enjoy a decent port or wine or sherry, but I’m marginal on cognacs. Since I buy every rum I review unless having a new one served or suggested to me by the Club or by The Bear, I am fortunately free to pick and choose and sample entirely at my discretion. I’d like to make the point that reviews for me are not just a matter of tasting notes, but an exercise in writing style, a way of expressing what was going on around me and in my mind as I drank, and therefore what you will see is a bit more holistic and general in nature than you may be used to. Let it not be said you weren’t warned.