I never used email or the internet until I was forced to in my first year of university. I used to hate watching TV. I only bought one because I got a full-time job working for a television broadcaster. I bought a cell phone because the roommates I lived with at the time got rid of our landline. Now all of the current implements that are conduits for these media command my attention at almost every waking moment.

Because of this barrage of information, I find it hard to be really productive or even hold basic linear thoughts when all these things are within reach. So I often shut them off, pick up a book, put on music, play guitar, go for a run, or even sit in silence. The hilarious irony is that I worked hard and saved money to purchase these gadgets and have all kinds of information at my fingertips. As the fictional, misguided visionary Tyler Durden said, “The things you own end up owning you.”

In my line of work, and living in urban North America, it’s almost impossible to live without them. They’re half status symbols and half knowledge necessities. It’s imperative to know what’s going on and to stay connected in these complex layers of relationships and interactions in the city. That being said, I don’t really need to be playing Angry Birds on the bus or in those few minutes between meetings/appointments.

And that’s where balance comes in. When I talk to my grandparents on the rez and in small-town Ontario (face to face), they’re both mind-blown and vexed that we walk around with computers in our pockets these days. They never needed them, and they still don’t. Because that wholesome attitude still exists, smartphones should be obsolete in the grand scheme of life.

But they aren’t, nor will they ever be. They’ve made my life easier, and I’m not abandoning any of these toys to become a born-again Luddite. The other day a random couple stopped me on the street to ask where a certain restaurant was. I didn’t know, so I pulled out my phone and called up an app – and within seconds I sent them in the right direction. My phone made me a hero for a moment. But silence and balance are golden, and I’ll never forget about the things that challenged and captivated my mind before 21st Century attention defects.

By the way, my favourite apps are Word With Friends, Angry Birds, Twitter, Instagram, and the new CBC News App.

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Mainstream popular culture has always had an odd infatuation with “Indians”, even though that’s never really carried over to real life. It’s more of an obsession with the imagery rather than some of the wholesome ideals all of our cultures are based on. Take the following Cher video, for example:

Granted, Cher claims to in fact be a half-breed (half “Cherokee”, as many of them say). But this must have been early on in her own personal cultural renaissance. The video opens with a totem pole, and then cuts to Cher in a Lakota-like headdress and getup – two things that have nothing to do with each other. Pure exploitation of the image. Don’t get me wrong, I love the song. I’ve belted it out more than once at karaoke bars (I’m a half-breed myself). But Cher wasn’t doing any of her native brothers and sisters any favours with this video. For me, the real star is the totally stoic horse, who’s obviously totally gooned on PCP.

Then there’s this gem from Loretta Lynn called “Your Squaw is on the Warpath”

I’ve always been a big fan of Loretta Lynn for blazing a trail for female musicians. And this song is kinda awesome, if you follow the narrative in the lyrics. You can easily argue she’s simply using Indian metaphors for the plight of a frustrated woman. But I can’t excuse the use of the word “squaw”. It’s one of the most offensive terms out there referring to Aboriginal women. I have trouble even saying it. Apparently she’s also part “Cherokee”, which is her supposed license to sing such a song.

But you’d be hard-pressed to find any Cherokees in this crowd…

Shifting from pop music to sports, baseball fans will be familiar with this. It’s the “Tomahawk Chop”, insensitively popularized by Atlanta Braves fans in the early 1990s. This dumbfounded me as a 12 year old, and it blows my mind even today. I made a more comprehensive commentary (see “Indians Finally Win One!) a few years ago on Native American imagery in pro sports (originally an article turned down by VICE Magazine), so I won’t go more into this now. But the chop is alive and well, proving white suburbanites in Georgia still want to be Indian. Scalp those Pittsburgh Pirates!

Such examples are varied and far-reaching, so a post like this could go on and on. But fear not, we’re slowly taking over the mainstream media and we’ll do our best to eradicate exploitation! Cue the pow-wow intro music…

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