A Baby Kangaroo Beat Me Up Too
Critics said Danish tennis pro Caroline Wozniacki was boring. So when she scraped her leg on a treadmill, and reporters asked her about it, she gave an unboring response: a baby kangaroo had attacked her.
Which helps us divide the world into two categories:
1. People with a healthy sense of humor who realized she was joking
2. Icelanders
Actually, it was the non-Icelandic press that reported this as fact. And Wozniacki had to make an official statement to clarify she was joking, putting her back into the boring category. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't.
Here on Ice Town, I occasionally involve Yoko Ono in alien conspiracy theories, suggest that Beyonce might be stealing clothing designs from Icelandic cod fishermen, and even claim that Prime Minister Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir distracts financiers with cute kittens, wants to turn Iceland into a Disney-managed puffin-themed amusement park, and that she really really wants Boy George to be her BFF.
Hmmm... Fact, or fiction?
But the way a minority of Seattle's Icelanders (okay, it was just three people) reacted, you would think I claimed the Prime Minister was bludgeoning baby seals and organizing dog fights. Or co-hosting the Golden Globes with Ricky Gervais. Things that would actually be an insult.
I happen to admire the lady. She has led Iceland through a challenging year. And went out on a limb by not only serving her country openly as a lesbian, but also by becoming the world's first Prime Minster to marry a same-sex partner. That takes guts. And makes me think she wouldn't be too upset at me for implying that she uses kittens for political maneuvering.
Then again, I am using an unconventional format to comment on culture. Sure, I do the straight forward stuff and mention Icelandic musicians, photographers, and personalities who intrigue me. And like to share Icelandic holidays and customs. Although some of them are so bizarre, you just have to add a twist. I mean, it's pretty weird to let your kids come into your bedroom in the morning and spank you and demand buns. Yes. That is an actual Icelandic custom.
So when I write about Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir, she becomes my fan fiction. Like those people who write unauthorized stories about Star Trek characters, honoring their heroes with new exploits. And even though Sigurðardóttir is my mouthpiece to express my thoughts on the Icelandic character, she also gets to comment on world events for me. Letting me take actual news, such as Boy George returning a church icon, and inserting Sigurðardóttir into the mix, refusing to let Iceland be ignored.
So I don't know what you call it. Satire? Fantasy? Hybrid news?
My friend Karen suggested that all the fictional things attributed to Sigurðardóttir should be made obvious with a different color of type. Which sounds good. But that reminds me of bibles where they put everything Jesus said in red ink. So if I do that, I will surely be accused of blasphemy. Any other suggestions?
I've reported on Icelandic culture in print. And when I started this blog, I followed the same format. But after about a week, I realized that a blog is different. It beckons you to test the boundaries. It demands, like Caroline Wozniacki's critics, that you not be boring. But above all, a blog demands you to be personal. And regardless of what you're writing about--news, history, whatever--in the end, what you're actually sharing is yourself. Whether it's Iceland, Nascar, or a Justin Bieber shrine--you're creating your own world in a blog.
So I guess I've started my world with a Big Bang. The lava is cooling. And I'm climbing out of the primordial soup, ready to leapfrog over the dinosaurs.
Which helps us divide the world into two categories:
1. People with a healthy sense of humor who realized she was joking
2. Icelanders
Actually, it was the non-Icelandic press that reported this as fact. And Wozniacki had to make an official statement to clarify she was joking, putting her back into the boring category. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't.
Here on Ice Town, I occasionally involve Yoko Ono in alien conspiracy theories, suggest that Beyonce might be stealing clothing designs from Icelandic cod fishermen, and even claim that Prime Minister Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir distracts financiers with cute kittens, wants to turn Iceland into a Disney-managed puffin-themed amusement park, and that she really really wants Boy George to be her BFF.
Hmmm... Fact, or fiction?
But the way a minority of Seattle's Icelanders (okay, it was just three people) reacted, you would think I claimed the Prime Minister was bludgeoning baby seals and organizing dog fights. Or co-hosting the Golden Globes with Ricky Gervais. Things that would actually be an insult.
I happen to admire the lady. She has led Iceland through a challenging year. And went out on a limb by not only serving her country openly as a lesbian, but also by becoming the world's first Prime Minster to marry a same-sex partner. That takes guts. And makes me think she wouldn't be too upset at me for implying that she uses kittens for political maneuvering.
Then again, I am using an unconventional format to comment on culture. Sure, I do the straight forward stuff and mention Icelandic musicians, photographers, and personalities who intrigue me. And like to share Icelandic holidays and customs. Although some of them are so bizarre, you just have to add a twist. I mean, it's pretty weird to let your kids come into your bedroom in the morning and spank you and demand buns. Yes. That is an actual Icelandic custom.
So when I write about Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir, she becomes my fan fiction. Like those people who write unauthorized stories about Star Trek characters, honoring their heroes with new exploits. And even though Sigurðardóttir is my mouthpiece to express my thoughts on the Icelandic character, she also gets to comment on world events for me. Letting me take actual news, such as Boy George returning a church icon, and inserting Sigurðardóttir into the mix, refusing to let Iceland be ignored.
So I don't know what you call it. Satire? Fantasy? Hybrid news?
My friend Karen suggested that all the fictional things attributed to Sigurðardóttir should be made obvious with a different color of type. Which sounds good. But that reminds me of bibles where they put everything Jesus said in red ink. So if I do that, I will surely be accused of blasphemy. Any other suggestions?
I've reported on Icelandic culture in print. And when I started this blog, I followed the same format. But after about a week, I realized that a blog is different. It beckons you to test the boundaries. It demands, like Caroline Wozniacki's critics, that you not be boring. But above all, a blog demands you to be personal. And regardless of what you're writing about--news, history, whatever--in the end, what you're actually sharing is yourself. Whether it's Iceland, Nascar, or a Justin Bieber shrine--you're creating your own world in a blog.
So I guess I've started my world with a Big Bang. The lava is cooling. And I'm climbing out of the primordial soup, ready to leapfrog over the dinosaurs.