I’ll get to my promised telling of Friday, but first I want to mention an interesting ad campaign I read about this weekend. It seems that Unicef has tapped the Smurfs to star in a shocking ad campaign that is hoped will bring attention to the organization’s anti-war message and increase the funding it receives to help children harmed by war.
Tiny Smurfs scatter and run in vain from the whistling bombs, before being felled by blast waves and fiery explosions. The final scene shows a scorched and tattered Baby Smurf sobbing inconsolably, surrounded by prone Smurfs.
The final frame bears the message: “Don’t let war affect the lives of children.”
– David Rennie
“Unicef bombs the Smurfs in fund-raising campaign for ex-child soldiers” tells more about the endevour, which got approval of the Smurfs’ creator’s family in Belgium. I hope the campaign will prove effective, though I do find it troubling that actual images of war-ravaged people have become so ineffective that new tactics are necessary. What have we become when crying cartoons move us more than flesh-and-blood innocents?
Friday morning I had returned home from work, where I’d been a bit longer than normal, and was getting ready to sleep when my phone rang. It was Sara, who let me know she wouldn’t be able to meet when and where we’d planned to, but wondered if I could meet her at her school for a while. So, doing my best to wake up, I got ready and was soon on a bus.
I arrived a bit early at MSVU and was feeling a bit hungry, so I decided to walk down the road to grab a snack. Across the road I noticed my sister Ilea waiting for a bus and decided to cross and talk to her for a while. She, my parents and some other family members spent the weekend in Pictou at some rather nice cabins. Last year I spend a nice Thanksgiving weekend (see parts 1 and 2) there myself.
When Ilea stepped on her bus I went into a store and grabbed some carrot cake and something to drink before heading back to the campus. I wandered around there before getting a call telling me Sara would be a bit late. I walked off to a bookstore and looked around for a short while and then returned to the campus once more.
Eventually Sara did show up and we spent a while talking before she had to go to class. I enjoyed talking with her quite a lot; it was refreshing to talk with someone with similar interests and approach to life. She even surprised me by getting my mention of the prerational, rational and transrational. We also talked some about a script she’d sent me to read, which was nice. I enjoy hearing of the creative processes and intent of others.
When she went to class she asked me to hang out after, so, lead by my hunger, I decided to head to The House of Mei Mei for lunch. It’s the most neglected Chinese resturant in this city and that boggles my mind. I love the place; the food is excellent and the service is good but for some reason there’s never more than a handful of people eating there. I had a delicious vegetarian combo, which included mushroom fried rice, a way of preparing rice I’d never tried but now love.
Back at the school I met up with Sara again and talked with her and one of her friends for a while before that friend left. I found Sara’s enthusiasm to be quite contageous, which was nice. That sense of animation is quite rare, it seems. All told, I had a good time.
When Sara departed with her family I headed to the bus stop but decided to walk home instead of waiting 12 minutes for the bus. By this time i’d been up for over 24 hours and was exhausted, but somehow thought an hour of walking was a good idea. So I walked home, got in the door, got undressed, fell into bed and was fast asleep until the next morning.
Regurgitated entries don’t live up to the originals, it’s clear, but here this one is.