MONTREAL, 2012: A humble attempt to make a few pennies from the RANT LINE™ has failed dismally as GOOGLE has outright rejected the RANT LINE™’s application to run annoying GOOGLE ADS on the site.
The reason, GOOGLE or a GOOGLE robot stated in an email is:

“We have disapproved your account for the following
violation(s):
– Site does not comply with Google policies”

A link supplied by GOOGLE in the email revealed that the RANT LINE™ violates a slew of rules making it unfit for public consumption:

Adult content
Content that advocates against an individual, group, or organization
Copyrighted material
Drug, alcohol, and tobacco-related content
Gambling content
Hacking and cracking content
Violent content
Weapon-related content
Other illegal content

So back to the drawing board.

“edited” by AL SOUTH

M Yeah, this is a rant going out to Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois. Never mind working for CSN—get your ass over to the NHL and study the collective bargaining agreement over so we can have some goddamed HOCKEY in this town. Can you  imagine another year without hockey in this town? I PERISH the thought. Anyways, Gabby I plead with you —please, call up Gary Beckman, tell him you are interested in the CBA. Please. [BLEEP!]

F This goes out to all you BREAD EATERS. Boycott Montreal bakeries that are shrinking their bread. Buy bagels. Good old fashioned bagels. Same price and same size. [BLEEP!]

M This is the Mohawk Genius. Just wanted to point out that no, in fact you didn’t read right. So maybe we can conclude that ILLITERACY leads to people who shave mohawks into their kid’s heads. Or prove me go wrong—go back and read what I said again. I didn’t say that mohwaks lead to gang violence. I said that you are an idiot for giving your kid a mohawk. [BLEEP!]

F Helllooo! Last night I was walking along St. Laurent after getting my hair cut and it was early evening, and as i walked I heard the song “Pretty Woman,” and it wasn’t very good. It was sort of being sung in an ADAM GREEN sort of way. And I thought, “What lame-ass hipster band decided to record a cover of this song?” But then, you know what? I passed by 3 Minots and there was a guy on stage singing KARAOKE. It was him singing, and he was all alone in the place. Just up there singing to nobody. I had a great night after that. Sing, sing, sing until everything is great! Thanks, stranger! [BLEEP!]

M Rant Line™! What’s up? So you know all these cigarette WARNING LABELS that are supposed to scare the shit out of us about smoking, but only end up being flashed around like “Yo, check out this rotting tongue!” Well there’s one that says, “A single stroke can leave you helpless. Cigarettes are a major cause of stokes.” And the picture is of a dude being gently WASHED by another dude. I think that picture would have a better effect if the stroked-out dude was being RAPED by the other dude. It’s not so bad to have your back washed, but I sure as fuck don’t want to be raped in the ass. Something to think about, Surgeon General graphics department. [BLEEP!]

F What the fuck is happening to the ORANGE LINE? Every morning it’s full of pushy assholes and their idiotic Kindles and Kobos pushing and shoving everyone. Then today I get off the metro LATE AS USUAL and I know something’s wrong—the busker who knows only one song—“Don’t Worry Be Happy” — isn’t SINGING at all. Sometimes he barely half sings, but today he’s screaming like a crazy man in French about his rights—he usually begs for money in English, I guess because the English are richer, right? The cops are there too. And there are these people holding signs at me on the escalators. VOUS ETES UN HERO or something like that. Then all these idiots dressed up like NOT REAL superheroes high-fiving the morons like me as we get off the escalator LATE for work. Some sort of promo to make people ride the metro, I think. Well after today, I ain’t riding the metro no more. I hate Kindle pushers with their white Nautilus bags, I can barely stand the “Don’t Worry B” song and I’m okay if they’re giving away gum or shampoo, but dressed-up people telling me how great I am for almost losing my job by always being LATE? NO MORE. [BLEEP!]

F What is it with you CYCLISTS? You got your bike lanes, you got your rent-a-bikes. Just because the cars are trying to kill you, doesn’t mean you have to try to kill us! Now stay off my sidewalks! [BLEEP!]

M Thank God you’re there! It’s cool that I can call direct from the site now, but what I need this very second is a way to send you a PICTURE from my phone, too. I’m on Sherbrooke near Guy, and there’s some MILF sunning herself laying down on a bench and talking on her phone, and she’s got one leg up, and her bald, milfy GASH is right there for everyone to see. I took a picture, but I can’t send it to you, but you need to believe me. Every guy that walks by has a look of sudden shock as he notices it, and this chick doesn’t have a clue. Am I supposed to tell her? Should I go over and say, “Excuse me miss, your vagina is showing?” Incredible. Anyway, now I’m just kinda hanging around here looking at it, but I guess as long as it looks like I’m making a phone call, nobody will suspect I’m just checking out some free gash. This chick’s the best. Fucking hell, I want to marry her! [BLEEP!]

GOT AN OPINION ON THE LOCAL SCENE? WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU! CALL 514-271-RANT (7268)

In Montreal, weekly alternatives such as The Hour and The Mirror are popular venues for local information on cultural events and happenings. But if the popularity of these newspapers were solely based on timely and up-to-date information then there should be no problem in translating them into electronic form. Forms which should, theoretically, offer these services in an easier and faster way. So if local information is not the sole reason for the use of these magazines then other factors must be contributing to their popularity.

One of these may be in how they are distributed. Of course, these newspapers are free and readily available but I think it would be prudent to only look at them as commodities. Instead, their whole raison d’être is that they cover the local scenes; be they music, politics, news, fashion or even sex. These newspapers are not only ‘out there’ covering these scenes but are apart of it; physically. One of the attractions of The Mirror or The Hour is that if you have a sudden urge to see a film you can easily find a copy at any laudrymat, bar, music store, café or even the theatre itself to find all the current listings and even reviews.

What is more, there is a certain poetics or aesthetics associated with these media forms. Reading a newspaper in a public place still retains a kind of intellectual prestige but there is a quality to these types of free and alternative newspapers where each copy is itself of indeterminate ownership. You can find one on the subway or left on a café table, read it, even tear an article or advertisement from its pages and leave it for another reader. Each copy is ephemeral and exists in a space inside and around the culture in which it is describes; it is easily accessible and accessible at almost any time of day. And despite the fact that these weeklies cater to subcultures who would consider themselves ‘cyber-friendly,’ there is a certain pleasure in the antiquated technology of these newspapers; from the low quality printing of images to the ink covered fingers you get when reading them… and even the fact that they are delivered on Thursdays and you sometimes can, when walking through the streets of Montreal, see the delivery truck filling the empty receptacles with the new edition.

An interesting example of the ‘on the street’ existence of these weeklies and the inclusion of what could be called ‘local expression’ is the Mirror’s column, “The Rant Line.” Edited by Al South, this column features the ‘rants’ made by fax or phone to 271-rant. What is interesting about this column is how it combines many different types of communications technology and combines them into one column; telephone, fax, an answering machine, then the technology of print newspapers. The subject matter of the rants contains everything imaginable; someone masturbating, people pissed-off at a local producer or promoter, opinion about local bands or concerts or the lack of mushrooms in the city, or people just responding to past ‘ranters.’

The column has a very local flavour and contains much in the way of those individuals who populate the local scenes. Despite the animosity between some of the local subcultures (hip hop ranting over the way punks dress) there is at times a feeling of community expressed in the column (the Oct. 23, 1997 issue featured a caller who wanted to share a particularly ‘mind-blowing’ passage from Fritjov Capra’s the Tao of Physics).

One may wonder if this column could be successfully moved to an online publication. I suspect that it could if it retained some of the constraints of the print-based technology used in its current form in The Mirror. The fact that it is edited would have to be taken into consideration. The editor, Al South, not only edits the column because of space restrictions but also add commentary, editorial opinions, explanations and sometimes groups the ‘rants’ into related themes. Obviously, this would rule out a simple fill-out form on the web.

What is most interesting about “The Rant Line” is that it creates a dialogue for readers to communicate with one another. This, in itself, is not so uncommon. But the fact that this dialogue persists in a newspaper and sometimes across many weeks is noteworthy and lends a certain quality to the column. A reader must have knowledge and memory of rants from the past week since in any given column a few of the ‘rants’ may reference something said one or two weeks previous. This dialogue, then, exists across time and the fact that the newspaper is only printed weekly and is edited makes the column more dependent on this time-constraint. However, this constraint of the medium works and is, I think, integral to the feel of the column.

Each week, the editor gives suggestions for themes or topics of the next week’s rant (i.e. Next week: Goths, you have been summoned. Especially you, Goth Girl). Again, the time-constraint is integral to the discussion — potential respondents have a deadline of under a week to make their opinion known — a week to come up with something good to say. And here, I think, the deadline and the weekly duration between printing is integral. I am not sure if the column would be as popular if it was updated daily or even every hour. There is some excitement in knowing that the responses will all come at once and only once per week. Especially when there are ‘hot’ or contentious topics there is a strange kind of pleasure in having to wait until Thursday to read the next series of replies.

In a variety of ways, time seems to be integral to how these magazines and newspapers work and feel. That is, how time is either manipulated or constrained for whatever reason (conscious manipulation on the part of the editor or constraints due to the production and distribution process). Certainly, online newspapers or CD-ROM magazines will find their niche and their audience. But first they will have to consider what it is that make these formats popular and what possibilities and constraints there are in the new media.

© 1997, David Clearwater, McGill

“edited” by AL SOUTH

F Sorry, genius, I just need to make sure I got that right—MOHAWKS are the GATEWAY haircut to gang violence? Is that right? Tell you what—you don’t tell me how to groom my kid, and I won’t tell you to eat shit, you ignoramus. [BLEEP!]

F To the bitch who called to pass judgement on how women should dress—shut your fucking mouth you stupid bitch. Why not come out and say what you want to say—the VICTIMS of rape are to blame. I can wear anything I want if I feel comfortable and don’t need some self-righteous bitch condemning me for my choices. Sometimes I dress CLASSY, sometimes I go a bit SLUTTY. Depends on my mood, where I’m going. So maybe realise there are some women who actually are comfortable with their bodies and don’t mind showing it off. Also, lick my snatch. Seriously. Get down there and lick it. Okay. Take care Rant Line™ Love you to pieces! [BLEEP!]

M I’m just back from the fucking depanneur, Friday night, the GARBAGE TRUCK has gone by, and these people are putting their garbage out on the sidewalk. It’s going to sit there and ROT for five days. What the fuck is up with that? Do you not know when the garbage truck goes by? Are you the fucking people who let your dog shit on the sidewalk right in front of my door every day? What the fuck is up with you? Get a fucking life. FUCK. [BLEEP!]

F This is to whoever thought the best place for the ALOUETTES to play football was at the Molson Stadium. Thanks for turning the whole area into a parade of idiots and MOUTH-BREATHERS every time the Alouettes play. “Oh, there’s only one two-lane road to get to or from the stadium? That’s PERFECT.” Typical Montreal—all bells whistles, no brains. Those of us who live and work in the area don’t appreciate having some SPVM cadet telling us we can’t turn down our own street because it’s blocked off “pour la match,” or waiting through eight turns of the stop-lights because University is an Als Bus Only lane. We also don’t like having our local pubs filled with guys who are, for all intents and purposes, fucking AMERICAN REDNECKS, there to load up on MEAT and BEER before farting their way to watch football. Or have them hooting through the streets on their way back to whatever fucking barn they snort in when there’s no CFL game. Here’s a good idea—make the Alouettes play in the crumbling shell of the Big O, far from everything and out of the god-damned way. The Canadiens can play hockey at the same time, and there’s probably still be room left over for a baseball game. Then everyone who doesn’t mind traffic jams and idiocy can all go to the Big O and watch their sports until their minds turn to GELATO, and then the Big O can collapse on them and act as a huge burial mound for the city’s stupidest citizens. Okay. Bye-bye. [BLEEP!]

M I just want to tell that lady who called to rant about FAT PEOPLE RIGHTS that I feel her pain, but think she could probably lose weight by eating less and exercising more. She doesn’t have to be fat forever. Even though she probably will be if all she does is phone the Rant Line™ to insist people be nicer to fat people. Good luck, fatty-fatty. Enjoy your Tim-Bits 20-pack. [BLEEP!]

M I’d like to cast my vote for this Rant Line™ titties thing. Can’t get enough titties. [BLEEP!]

M I read that guy’s rant about wanting to see some TIT PIX on this here lovely website, and I think he completely misses the point of the Rant Line Agenda, which is to appeal to everyone and be a forum where everyone is equal and can express an opinion free of outside influence. Also, I think he may be on to something. Maybe start with just, angry, outspoken or opinionated tits, then add some tits that hate CHOM, then add some tits who hate the Montreal music scene. Tits are smart business on the Internets! Tits and torrents. Why else have an Internets? Let’s go Rant Line Tits! [BLEEP!]

F Hey Rant Line™ how come it’s never HOT GUYS who come to change my hot water tank or deliver my appliances, or whatever. Because if they were hot I would fuck every single one of them, and I am pretty sure they would fuck me too. The Hot Guy Dispatcher is fucking up.[BLEEP!]

Got an opinion on the local scene?
We want to hear from you!
Call (514) 271-RANT (7268)

FEATURING: Gangster Politics, Jake Brown, Love Zone, Black Harmony and someone pretending to be Big Joe B. from Slyce!

PLUS: DD cups can’t stop Cream from curdling!

“edited” by AL SOUTH

f If I hear Puff Daddy one more time on Mix 96 I’m going to hurl, okay, HURL! [BLEEP!]

m This is Jake Brown and this is the second and last rant I will ever send. Well, I just caught the Gangster Politics show at Café Campus and they were AMAZING. Ska is the greatest! An hour and a half of dancing and fun and sex—and I guess sex is good. And so is ska! Incidentally, the boys at Stomp never called me a cunt. In fact, they’re the friendliest, most helpful people I ever dealt with in my life. They’re great, they’re mensches. I like ska. And that Wrigley’s gum up your bum song? We used to dance to that at Simon Fraser University when the Villains used to play back in 1978. Simon Fraser University in British Columbia, when we are all ska crazy. And Simon Fraser’s birth place is in Ste-Anne-de-Bellevue. You can go visit his house, it says Simon Fraser was born here. The fucking prick. [BLEEP!]

m I was at Cream two weeks ago and I have to say it had by far the highest people-to-production ratio I’ve ever seen at a party that size. Anyone who paid to get into that party should feel completely ripped off. There were almost 10,000 people, there were no visuals, almost no lighting, the worst sound, zero ventilation, zero regard for people. The kids were just treated like CATTLE. Unbelievably bad. [BLEEP!]

f Cream ‘97, visions of heaven, alas what was found—the crappiest party around. Party sluts, pit boys, sick to my gut, I’m approaching annoyed. Alas, my chin is up. Slam! A DD cup!! Regrouping I wander, what is that over yonder? The excitement it grows, I wanna move those toes! Over the crowd I see the door, it’s too fucking bad I can’t see the floor. Moseying in, the nausea builds, there’s no fucking air, I need gills! Disappointed I leave, to the chill room I weave. Hey, where’s the music? Think I’m gonna lose it. Thank god for E, thank god for friends, thanks to them I’m on the mend. Next time you want my 30 bucks, please make sure your party doesn’t suck. Love, Cookie Books. [BLEEP!]

m This is about the local DANCEHALL REGGAE scene in Montreal. In case anyone’s interested, Love Zone and Black Harmony took it on the road to Ottawa last Saturday and ended up in a slight sound clash in which Love Zone completely just MURDERED Black Harmony. Love Zone is the biggest sound in Montreal. Don’t question it. [BLEEP!]

m I’m a 10-year hip hop veteran, still unknown outside of Montreal. I just got back from the Rap City competition at the Spectrum. This goes out to both the performers and the audience. I am motherfucking sick and tired of MCs cupping the mic with their palms and SCREAMING at full volume. You can’t understand a word they’re saying, and lyrics are the most important thing in hip hop. And everyone is more concerned with how they are perceived by other people fashion-wise than how they LIVE. Everyone’s worried, “Do I look fresh?” “Do I look dope?” “What does he or she think about me?” In Montreal only five per cent of us are really true to hip hop, the rest of you are an EMBARRASSMENT. That’s from the heart. You’re all jumping around on stage, can’t hear a word you’re saying, absolutely no performance skills whatsoever. Speak clearly and perform your songs! It’s all cool to represent and everything, but what are you really representing? Yourself? Your city? Your image? What? All the people in hip hop need to take a deep look inside themselves and ask what they’re in it for. ‘Coz I strive and I struggle every day till my shit is correct, and these people are coming out incredibly egotistical and materialistic and it’s a SHAME. All right. That’s from John Doe. Peace to everyone. Even you blind motherfuckers. [BLEEP!]

m Hey, this is [someone pretending to be] BIG JOE B. from SLYCE and I got a bad-ass rant for you, so you better print it or I’ll be very angry [starts to rap in a ponderous manner]: My name is Joe and I’m better than the rest, when I’m up against the wall I always pass the test/If you got some beef, pass it on down, I like it with HP, T-bone or ground/My raps are like burritos with heavy hot sauce, I’m chilling with my homeys in a figure-four leglock/When it comes to rhymes I got it all down, when I open my cheeks I’m the best in town/André knows, just ask him, when I spank his little monkey, it’s over the rim/Last year I relocated to Dusseldorf, all the rappers lived in fear/So watch out music scene, ‘coz I’m a rapping machine/Keep your engine clean… if you know what I mean. PUNK. [BLEEP!]

Next week: Big Joe B. from Slyce returns to the Mirror office looking to beat the shit out of Al South.

Got an opinion on the local scene?
We want to hear from you!
Call (514) 271-RANT (7268)

“edited” by Al South

F Bonjour Rant Line™. I woke up this morning to find a PQ minority and the news talking about a MASKED ASSAILANT trying to attack the PQ election RAVE at Metropolis. When I turned on the TV, though, the masked assailant turned out to be an old fat guy in a BATHROBE. Why does the news have to be sensationalised? “Old Fat Guy Wearing Bathrobe Kills One at PQ Victory Rave” would have been mostly ignored and looked at as what it was—a lone crazy guy. Instead, it’s a masked assailant and the English/French war gets a jump-start. Good work, media! Vivre le Quebec fucked ip! [BLEEP!]

F Bad, bad, bad, bad. This whole election was a waste of time and nothing good can come of it no matter which scumbag wins. Bad, bad, bad. [BLEEP!]

M The only way my ballot could possibly have counted would have been had I been able to mark it with INK made from a deadly VIRUS.[BLEEP!]

M Yes, I keep reading about the PQ and their plans for how they will run Quebec, like having mini-referendums on every matter of policy and putting $10-billion into a fund to buy shares in corporations so they could try to influence how that corporation is run. And also they keep saying stuff about not speaking your mother TONGUE if that tongue ain’t French. Well, my tongue is Italian and every day I meet French girls and would like to plunge my Italian tongue right up their asses. Does that count? Please let me know now that you are in power. [BLEEP!]

M I gotta wonder—what’s up with these kids with MOHAWKS. Literally, children with Mohawks. Usually from some sort of non-white ethnic background, although God knows I’ve seen the white kids with them too. I’m just curious—I’ve got kids, I’m open minded. And I do realize that a haircut is very insignificant in the great scheme of things. However, why does your kid need a fucking Mr. T cut?? I don’t get it. What purpose could it possibly serve? What jerkoff fantasy keeps you awake at night saying, I need to cut my kids hair this way or that way, my kid is going to look awesome in a Mohawk? Why don’t you get him some brass knuckles too? Or a GUN, that should be the next step. Cellphone, gun, mowahk. And a bag of weed. [BLEEP!]

M Yo, I just left the Public Enemy show at Olympic Park. Amazing, totally great. But I am going to say to one guy, who had his stupid, fat, bonehead motherfucking face up against the barrier, who BODIED my girlfriend backwards when she tried to dance a little bit—he is lucky his head wasn’t driven so far into the barrier that his DENTIST wouldn’t know how to fill it. Your shirt across the back said FUCK LOVE. Fuck Love. But you were throwing your fist up in the air for everything Flav had to say about people, one unity, all those type of things. You are just the worst kind of narrow stupid piece of shit. You lie with your fist up in the air in the face of greatness because you think you’re a fan. You’re a little bitch. The way you threw my girlfriend, homie, you don’t know how close you came to being hospitalized. You’re gonna get yours, Fuck Love. Your gonna get yours. [BLEEP!]

F Shame on you, Rant Line™. Obesity is a SICKNESS, not a fun thing to laugh about in public. People seem to think it’s still okay to make fun of—or be downright cruel—when it comes to overweight and obese people. But it’s no different than making Jew jokes or calling someone a nigger who is black. It hurts and it’s narrow-minded and offensive. When will people realise that cruel jokes and open derision directed toward the overweight causes serious pain? That is the message the Rant Line™ should be delivering. Not that it’s funny or okay to laugh at overweight people on BICYCLES. Grow up and do the right thing. [BLEEP!]

F Hey girls! Tired of always feeling self-conscious about how much your SKIRTS and SHORTS ride up? Tired of always pulling them down after every few steps or when you stand up? I figured out the perfect way to prevent the embarrassment. Wear longer shorts and skirts! A lady’s HEMLINE should fall a full three-inches lower than her self-esteem. Good luck! [BLEEP!]

M YES! Despite the angry feminazis trying to piss on the parade, FROSH is back, baby! I can see the frightened eyes of my FRESH PREY marching by in matching t-shirts from my office on McGill College. All those DOE-EYED young ladies, so far from home, in need of comfort. Drink up, gals! SKEEVER will be picking up the tab! [BLEEP!]

Got an opinion on the local scene?
We want to hear from you!
Call (514) 271-RANT (7268)