Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.06.2006, Síða 4

Subject: Kaffisetrid Cafe,
Laugavegi 103
Dear Sir
My wife and I have just returned
from a week’s holiday in Reykja-
vik, and I would like to say how
much we enjoyed our evening meals
at the above cafe/pub/restaurant.
The food (Asian and Icelandic) is
substantial, tasty, and reasonably
priced (unlike one or two other
places we visited near the town cen-
tre). People in this cafe were mainly
locals, presumably due to the
distance from the centre of town.
If you print this letter, I hope other
tourists will give this establishment
a try - it deserves it!
Michael Davidson
Southport
England
Damn, you Englishmen are polite.
Assuming you are English. Hmm…
Hi there Bart & the gang!
As a Scotsman in London with
a lovely Icelandic fiancé, I’m a
regular visitor to Iceland and your
newspaper & website is more than
a valuable resource, especially when
it comes to a non-Icelandic view on
news & culture.
In particular, your editorial on
18/04/06 (Silvía Nótt Officially
Jumps the Shark) made me smile
a lot. At last, I thought. Someone
who actually agrees with me on
this!
Like Iceland, the UK has had
“fake” media characters before,
such as Ali G, who would often be
controversial and generally take the
piss at the establishment’s expense.
Indeed, watching Silvia Nótt’s pro-
grammes and her performance at
the Eurovision nominations concert
in Iceland a couple of months ago,
I’ve found her to be pretty funny
at times, although a little on the
same-y side.
However, that was until I saw the
Kastljós programmes in the week
running up to the actual Eurovi-
sion finals. God, I’ve seen some
crap things on TV before, but it’s
been a while since I’ve cringed so
much at the TV from Silvia Nótt’s
“comic” exploits in Greece. My fi-
ancé and her friends stated that she
was simply being in character and it
made funny viewing. I disagreed as
I do believe that the main aspect of
a comic character is that they need
to be FUNNY, which Silvia Nótt is
no longer I’m afraid.
If you look at similar films/pro-
grammes such as “This is Spinal
Tap”, although the audience was
real, the rest of people involved
(technicians, reporters, etc) were
in on the joke. However in Greece,
treating technicians & people who
have probably worked 12 hours
straight like scum at the bottom
of your shoe and then laughing at
them for not being in on the joke is
not funny. And often when people
not in on the joke are taken the
piss out of in these situations, it’s
often to expose their hypocrisies or
prejudices. So far, I’m still getting
my head around what was actu-
ally gained from generally treating
people as crap.
But, you may argue, the whole
point is that we are laughing at her
and not with her. Fair enough, but
often what makes a comic monster
funny (If you’ve ever seen The
Office or Alan Partridge in the
UK) is that even though we laugh
at them, we do feel some sympathy
for them and their disasters. So far
I’m not really feeling any pangs of
sympathy coming form a third rate
character such as poor old Sylvia.
I do believe that Ágústa Eva
Erlendsdóttir, who played Silvia
Nótt, did do a good job in keeping
in character and I’m sure that given
the right material she can go on
to do bigger & better things. But
perhaps it’s now time that she be
put out of her misery, perhaps in
some bizarre hairspray combustion
explosion or something. Let’s hope
that something or someone funny
comes in her place soon.
All the best and keep up the good
work!!
Regards
Bob Cluness
21a Birkbeck Hill,
London,
bobcluness@hotmail.com
Okay, listen Mr. Cluness, with
your astute observations and your
comprehension of the goals of humour,
I disagree with the opinion piece,
and I find treating people like crap
to be profoundly amusing. Maybe it’s
not funny to treat Greek people like
crap, but Greek people working on
Eurovision, the single greatest assault
to taste, culture and art in the history
of man, yes, that is both amusing and
justified. Sylvia Nótt was just Ali G
before Eurovision, but when you go
in front of millions and do what she
did—rip apart everything that a cor-
rupted, white trash institution, stands
for-- then you deserve respect.
By the way, weren’t those employ-
ees at Eurovision volunteers? As I
sat, watching five minutes and dry
heaving through some buxom blonde’s
bullshit disco tune, I swear the hosts
made us clap for the morose teenag-
ers shuffling about the stage pointing
out that they were volunteers. I just
can’t think of anything worse than
Eurovision, it’s like Disneyworld
without the stench of profitability and
self loathing.
Subject: Silvia Night
What a fucking bitch you have in
your country. How could you select
her to represent Iceland in ESC?
She has made a fool of your whole
country. You should be ashamed!
This woman has lots of problems,
maybe she is sicker than we under-
stand. Otherwise you should send
her to Hamburg in Repherbahn.
There she fits in very well in the
windows between the other hook-
ers. Fuck you Silvia Nótt. Regards
Carola.
You see, that’s a Eurovision fan. You
see that Mr. Cluness? Eh? Eh? Fuck-
ing Eurovision.
In our last issue, we ran two letters
criticising columnist Þórdís Elva Þor-
valdsdóttir Bachmann’s article Turn-
ing Tricks for Movie Tix. I warned
the writers that she would respond in
turn. Below are the letters, again, and
the wrath of Þórdís.
I’m glad Ms. Þórdís is OK with
prostitution. Living in a country
like Iceland - with a low incidence
of poverty and a relatively inex-
pensive drug treatment system
- it’s no surprise that her notions of
prostitution are her cherry-picked
examples of people who gleefully
sell themselves for movie tickets
or airplane f lights. Þórdís should
maybe take a trip to west Philadel-
phia, or New Delhi, or East Los
Angeles…My only hope is that
Ms. Þórdís learns the difference
between starting a discussion on a
topic with an intelligent argument
and just plain demonstrating her
ignorance of reality outside of our
tiny island. Sóley Jónsdóttir
RE: Column By Thórdís
So you and your boyfriend didn’t
know about these traditional mas-
sage places that lined your street in
Berlin…Every guy[except yours]
knows what goes on in them. The
other day I was going to one, I
patted my dog good-bye, told him
where I was going, and he barked
out to me, “ruff ruff ”. Which
meant wear a rubber…. Harry,
Detroit
Dear Ms. Sóley Jónsdóttir
First of all, thank you for your reply
to my column. However, I don’t quite
understand your letter, which reads
to me as an angry answer to some
sort of misunderstood notion of yours
that I am “OK with prostitution”, as
you wrote. In my article, I never once
passed judgement on prostitution,
least of all a positive one. In fact, I
said that I felt “ dirty” after getting off
a plane that was arranged by a girl
who was willing to give a blowjob
in exchange. To answer your letter in
spite of the fact that I think you’re on
the wrong track, here are my points:
You accused me of “perpetuating the
old stereotype of Thai women being
sex workers” by telling a story of when
my boyfriend and I decided to try a
‘traditional Thai massage.’ However,
I never said the ‘masseuses’ were Thai.
In my experience, most of the tradi-
tional Asian cuisine or services I buy
these days is sold to me by Caucasians.
As a result, your jump to the conclu-
sion that the ‘masseuses’ were Thai
says more about your stereotypical
views on Thai women than mine.
You seem convinced that there’s only
one correct notion of prostitution,
suggesting I travel to New Delhi, Los
Angeles or Philadelphia to witness
drug-addicted, poor, ignorant women
forced to sell access to their bodies.
Until recently, I agreed with your
views on prostitution. It was distant,
somewhere far away in gigantic cities
of the world, ridden with dope, AIDS
and ignorance, just like you described.
Certainly it was nowhere near me in
my sheltered little Iceland. Since then,
I’ve stepped into reality. Prostitution
is here, for sure. Yes, it’s very different
from the life of the New Delhi crack
whore, but it’s still sex in exchange for
something else. The way I see it, the
only difference between you and me is
that I’ve widened my perspective.
Keep reading and writing.
Þórdís Elva Þorvaldsdóttir Bach-
mann
Dear Harry from Detroit,
I would very much like to meet your
dog.
Þórdís Elva Þorvaldsdóttir Bach-
mann
SOUR GRAPES
Complaints, criticism, suggestions, praise, money, anything at all: Contact letters@grapevine.is or send
your mail to: The Reykjavík Grapevine, Faxagata 2, Faxaskála við Faxaport, 101 Reykjavík.
For more than a decade the Progressive Party and
the Independence Party have been the leading
proponents of Iceland’s decision to support the
war in Iraq, despite an overwhelming majority of
the nation being opposed to it. They have sacri-
ficed our nature at the expense of heavy industry.
They have made a point of privatizing every
government institution, they have neglected the
elderly, they have run the economic system to the
point where inflation is reaching double digits.
In the recent mayoral elections, the people
of Reykjavík decided that this would be the ideal
majority to run the city council as well. Seeing
how they did such a good job on the national level
and all.
At least the Independence Party can claim
some sort of ideology behind their policies, being
a right wing party, whereas The Progressive Party
have never had ideology, other than to stay in
power. I truly believe that if evil resides in Iceland,
it votes Progressive.
The Progressives have always campaigned
heavily on what they believe to be popular issues,
making wild promises that attract people with
no grasp of political discourse. I guess if you run
a campaign on the premise that a tenth of the
population is more or less mindless and tailor your
campaign to impress the mindless herd, you are
likely to receive a good proportion of their votes.
If you convince them that you are cool for ex-
ample, so cool that you drive around in a Hummer
H2, so cool that you party at Pravda, you know,
hnakki cool, that is all it takes. Never mind the
issues, or the lack thereof.
So, congratulations, Reykjavík, you have been
duped.
Congratulations, Reykjavík!
EDITORIALS
Bart Cameron, Editor
Welcome to Iceland. You are visiting the
home of the oldest parliament in the world, of
some of the oldest and most revered writing
in Europe, and country of pronounced natural
beauty. The tradition of democracy is so strong
here, that we dedicate a good deal of our
time in this tourism and lifestyle magazine
to political issues and political coverage. For
visitors from America and much of Europe,
we can point out that Iceland has one of the
highest rates of voter turn-outs for any Western
country, and we can therefore claim that
democracy is still going strong here.
Wait. Hold it. We can’t.
You see, this election, the one that took
place f ive days before we went to print, had one
of the lowest voter turn-outs on record. Only
77% of registered voters showed up to vote
in an election that will decide, among other
things, whether the Landsvirkjun power works
will be privatized, thus allowing a great deal
more heavy industry to come into Iceland, as,
until now, the City of Reykjavík ’s ownership
of Landsvirkjun has been able to have some
moderating effect.
Let’s see, come to think of it, those key
points we see as attractions for Iceland were
just undone, at least the democracy and the
nature—the sagas are still safe.
What is most fascinating about the recent
elections, to me, were the actions of one
man, Björn Ingi Hrafnsson. Possessed of an
engaging smile and the intangible qualities
that make up charisma, Hrafnsson dominated
this year’s elections… as the least popular
candidate. And in the end, his unpopular ideas
got him elected and got him a great deal of
power. How is this possible?
First off, he had funding. A lot of it. How
much, I have absolutely no idea and will never
f ind out, as Iceland has no laws about showing
the books of political parties. Osama Bin
Laden, or Alcoa, could have personally handed
Hrafnsson a few million kronur, and nobody
in Iceland would be the wiser. But judging by
the number of times I saw Hrafnsson smiling
on TV in vaguely charming commercials with
the following message: He doesn’t know how
to play golf, but he does know how to play
politics, in which Hrafnsson looked like the
Bachelorette competitor that you were really
pulling for, I would say Hrafnsson had a hefty
chunk of change.
But money along wouldn’t have been
enough. Hrafnsson had a nation of followers,
of reactionary thinkers, just as George W. Bush
has had the last few years. As Hrafnsson quite
correctly pointed out at his Election Day party,
he “led the discourse during the campaign.” A
remarkable feat, considering how low the level
of intelligence was in the discourse: the man
actually recommended, in a series of ads, that
the city of Reykjavík should move its airport
to a protected wildlife area… belonging to
another town. And this was the best of his
ideas.
Throughout the election, Hrafnsson, who
initially stepped into the Icelandic spotlight
as a proponent of Iceland’s involvement in the
Iraq War, continually led the charge, and his
opponents stood by, blinking like cows in the
midday sun. Yes, they could correct him, but he
was the one setting the agenda, he was the one
going somewhere.
The whole concept hints at the diff iculties
of democracy, and, for me, it shows the role the
media must play, and the damage that can be
inf licted when the media fails to inform and
question. By not stepping in and demanding
clear talk about the future of Reykjavík, and
Iceland, the media left the voting public
uninformed. Many simply didn’t vote. Of those
that did, few realized the ramifications of their
choices.
The political parties themselves are to
blame, too. That the Social Democrats or
Leftist Greens couldn’t lift their heads and
make their own points is shameful and suggests
that they will be out of off ice for a long time,
despite having policies that likely match the
views of the typical Icelander a great deal more
than the parties in power.
All of this reminds me of the American
home of democracy, the original home,
that is, Philadelphia. In the grand city of
Philadelphia, there is a basketball team. And
on this basketball team, there is a point guard.
And this point guard is fantastic to watch. He
f lails fantastically, he scores often, though he
misses even more often, and he has cool hair
and tattoos. And he is repeatedly awarded the
honour of MVP or at least All-Star when it
comes to voting. And because he is charismatic,
the press treats him like a star. And, according
to everything you read, he is the best in the
business, one of the best basketball players to
ever play.
Except his team never wins.
This is where the passive journalism in
Iceland and America have taken countries with
proud histories of democracy. With no hard
numbers, with no actual knowledge, voters
were forced to vote based on charisma. The
parties forced us to do this. They told us, in
our last issue, that there was no difference in
campaign platforms, just methods, which they
didn’t care to elaborate on. When you vote
solely on charisma, and you report solely on
charisma, things don’t always go so well.
Björn Ingi Hrafnsson ran a campaign full
of nothing but air balls and turnovers, and now
he will be deciding the future of Reykjavík.
And that’s not particularly comforting.
The Allen Iverson Election
Sveinn Birkir Björnsson,
Co–editor
Soup of the day + 1/2 panini + koffee = 870 kr.
The luck is
with you
Espresso bar open every day 08.00-00.00 - Lækjatorg (main square)
Lunch special!
From 11.00-14.00