OLD UGLY

An evening spent drowning in the boisterous cacophony that fills Wunderbar. The swanky Old Strathcona club, a known hideout of the Old Ugly criminal outfit, was recently almost shut down after extensive police investigation. I inhale cigarette after cigarette, contributing to the hazy air, sipping at fine imported beer – a rumored byproduct of the extensive smuggling operations alleged of Old Ugly.

A single pillar of light illuminates the stage and, in an instant, the roar of the bar fades into absolute silence. Struggling to see over a rising sea of interlocked shoulders, I can distinctly hear the ring of high heels on the wooden planks of the dais. A voice rings pure and true over the dusty microphone, cutting through the thick air, entrancing the audience. Another night at Wunderbar; another performance by resident singer Caity Fisher.

I stand upon the step of my barstool and finally catch a glimpse of Fisher. She is sheathed in a fitted black dress, her hips swaying as she serenades her captive audience. The silk scarf tied about her neck is one of many presents from lovelorn admirers who frequent the club. She finishes her first number to rapturous applause. A smile forms as her husky voice purrs a sultry, “Thank you, boys.” She pulls out a long cigarette and in an instant three men close to the stage are holding lit matches out for her. She ignites and lets the cigarette drape from her finger as she begins another tune.

A drunken man turns to his companion and speaks, breaking the intense attention of the crowd. His drunken utterances are almost incomprehensible. With a look of disgust, a nearby patron turns and catches him across the jaw with a right hook. The disruptive speaker falls to the ground. My attention reverts to Fisher; for most of the bar, it never wavered.

When her performance ends, applause, whistles and catcalls follow her off of the stage. A gigantic man, roped with heavy muscle – typical of the thugs employed by Old Ugly – blushes and stammers a greeting as he hands her a bouquet of roses. She smiles and glides past him into the back labyrinth of Wunderbar – gone until another night. (Tyler Jack Butler)

THIS STORY IS FICTION. TONIGHT IS NOT.

FISHER. HIJETS. HONORIFICS.

TRASHY. BARROOM. ROCK.

WUNDERBAR

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“If you want shoulders like mine,”

says Doug Hoyer, “you have to do yoga.” He settles his muscular bulk, clad in a well-tailored white suit, back in a plush Wunderbar booth. We are seated in the swanky Old Strathcona club, a well-known hideout of much of the muscle of the Old Ugly criminal organization. Our conversation has turned to the finer points of muscle development and maintenance, a topic on which the gargantuan Hoyer can converse at great length.

Amidst swirling charges of war profiteering and drug smuggling across Atlantic naval channels, Hoyer remains calm. “My distant cousin, Helmut Hoyer, fought in the second World War. I would never initiate a war profiteering scheme.”

“Clearly these charges are false.” A ticking vein in Hoyer’s corded, anabolic neck warns me of the danger of further inquiry. From the corner of my eye, I watch one dinner-plate hand relax from a tightly clasped fist. He pulls out a cigarette and strikes a match against the table. His eyes light up one final time with a testosterone-fueled fire – fire that extinguishes along with the match as he once more relaxes onto our booth.

Hoyer’s hooliganism is less in doubt. He is among the most feared of media mogul Joe Gurba’s regular hires from the criminal underworld. Behind his back, whispers refer to him as Hoy Boy, a twisted reference to his massive size. (Tyler Jack Butler)

THIS STORY IS FICTION. TONIGHT IS NOT.

HOYER. JALBERT.

EDMONTON. DREAM. TEAM.

ACCENT LOUNGE.

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Jalbertmania

Jessica Jalbert serenades the crowd at Wunderbar, Friday Oct 29, 2011. Photo by the elusive Yogashoulder.

Today, the citizens of Edmonton know “The Joe” Gurba…

…as a multi-faceted media and shipping mogul. His philanthropic motions collide with his criminal undertones, creating mixed feelings about the presence and societal dominance of the Old Ugly organization.

The mythology surrounding Gurba’s rise to prominence is a direct result of his ironclad grip on Edmonton’s media. Cleansed of fact, rumor takes a life of its own; the public consciousness fantasizes and debates about the mogul’s roots.

Stories emerge of repeated suicide attempts. Blurry photographs show Gurba hanging from the freezing railing of the High Level Bridge, two dark figures pulling him to safety as he struggles to commit the plunge – three twisting, black bodies etched against the snow-covered structure.

Whispers of a long pilgrimage to southeastern Asia arise from eyewitness accounts of a heavily bearded Gurba recovering from opium addiction in a Vietnamese hospital. Reports are increasingly common of Gurba’s secret meetings aboard Russian nuclear submarines in the dark channels of the Arctic Ocean. And, evidence mounts of his business association with Wunderbar, the swanky Old Strathcona hub of criminal activity. Of course, Gurba’s recent and highly suspicious hostile takeover of Edmonton’s brewing community is certainly not the first in a long history of shady transactions.

The mythology of the The Joe is counterbalanced by the reality of Old Ugly’s dominance over Edmonton’s social, artistic and business spheres. What gave rise to the voice that broadcasts from crowded radio sets, from street corner loudspeakers, from every car window? Perhaps the citizens of Edmonton will never know, but they will surely speculate. (Tyler Jack Butler)

THIS STORY IS FICTION. FUNDRIVE IS NOT.

GURBA.

RADIO. ARGUMENT. FUNDRIVE.

CJSR 88.5

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I am sitting in Jessica Jalbert’s private limousine, waiting on the cool autumn tarmac of the Edmonton International Airport for the world famous rock star’s plane to land.

A screaming current of teenagers awaits Jalbert as her plane rests its heavy bulk on the runway. The chaos of the scene is barely mediated by the wall of riot police that line a corridor through the crowd. I can see Jalbert meandering through, giving signatures and waving to her admirers. As she settles at last into the vehicle, it begins to slowly pull forward, parting the frenzied, oceanic motion of the dense crowd.

The previously unknown Jalbert rocketed to world fame this year after signing with Joe “The Joe” Gurba’s major record label, Old Ugly. She returns to Edmonton for the first time since embarking on a six-month tour across Europe, Russia and Asia. In her wake, she has left a startling uprising afflicted with the newest teen phenomena — Jalbertmania .

“Fame hasn’t changed me,” she tells me, lighting a cigar as she settles back in her seat. The limousine is flying down the highway, 160 km/h traveling north on the Queen Elizabeth II.

She continues, in public and private, to deny any connection to the increasingly apparent criminal undertones of Gurba’s media and shipping empire. “Neither I nor any of the members of my touring team participate in any smuggling acts on the behest of Mr. Gurba.” Her tone belays the robotic legality of a well-practiced response. “If you will excuse me, I usually do not speak on the day of a show.” We pass the remainder of the ride in silence.

Jalbert will perform tonight at Wunderbar, the swanky Old Strathcona club operated by the nefarious Craig Martel, and a well-known hangout of Gurba and his Old Ugly cronies. After the private event, packed with an array of Edmonton’s alleged criminal elite, Jalbert will immediately fly to Las Vegas and begin her year-long residency headlining the “Brother Loyola” themed Cirque Du Soleil show. (Tyler Jack Butler)

THIS STORY IS FICTION. TONIGHT IS NOT.

JALBERT. LOYOLA. FISHER. CATGUT.

ALBUM RELEASE

GRUNGE. FOLK. TODDIES.

WUNDERBAR

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Professor Jim Cuming’s office smells of rich  is thick with the rich smeel of pipe tobacco. The shelves that line the walls bow under the weight of heavy tomes. Late autumn light streams through a small window, illuminating the school of dust particles swimming through the air.

Dr. Cuming is a renowned professor of criminology, about to begin his first semester instructing at the University of Alberta. “I moved to Edmonton to be closer to the rampant criminal activity that has seized this once pristine trader’s outpost,” says Cuming. “Edmonton is home to a new breed of criminal  — Joe Gurba and his Old Ugly cronies. This is a great opportunity for my work.”

Cuming adamantly denies any personal involvement with the Gurba Foundation and its media flagship, Old Ugly. He describes his frequent public sightings in the company of Gurba — and the fact that Gurba houses Cuming in his personal Old Strathcona mansion — as to pure academic interest.

“It is important to immerse oneself in one’s studies,” says Cuming. His current project involves a detailed psychological profile of Gurba’s new thug, a hulking figure of fear shrouded in misinformation and rumor, known only as Jom Comyn.

“No, neither I nor the police, who I work closely with, have any comment on Jom Comyn,” says Cuming. This even as fear ripples through the Whyte Avenue public after Jom Comyn was seen frequenting Wunderbar, the swanky Old Strathcona club that often houses Gurba’s henchmen.

As I leave Cuming’s office, I comment on the strange smell of his pipe tobacco. “Oh, I assure you I smoke only the finest opium,” smiles Cuming as he settles back in his plush desk chair. (Tyler Jack Butler)

THIS STORY IS FICTION, TONIGHT IS NOT

COUSIN. COMYN. CUP. ‘CINTOSH.

POP. FOLK. BEER.

WUNDERBAR

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Straight from two sculpted jewels of hyper-masculinity comes the new Edmonton Oilers pump up song — new young beats for the new young team.

Read the article in the Edmonton Journal. Notice this FIERCE quote:

The main theme, I guess, is revenge because we thought that’s probably how the Oilers feel like now after a few bad seasons. When they do have a good season, it will be like this vindicating moment for them. — Michael Maybe

Vote for Mikey Maybe and Mitchmatic on the Journal’s website.

The Ongoing Argument…

…continues about Joseph “The Joe” Gurba’s increasing control of Edmonton’s media.

As usual, Gurba, the notorious Edmonton kingpin, will broadcast his personal radio show on the mighty CJSR from 11am-1pm today. After acquiring Rawlco this weekend through extended hostile takeover, Gurba’s radio empire, now unified under flagship station CJSR, controls every frequency in the Greater Edmonton Area’s bandwidth.

The Joe was allowed to walk free last week after Mikey Maybe, attorney-at-law, successfully defended him against charges of masterminding an arctic smuggling ring.

Beginning this week, and extending indefinitely, Gurba’s show will rain down from loudspeakers on every street corner in the city — further increasing the pervasive reach of the media mogul. (Tyler Jack Butler)

THIS STORY IS FICTION. TODAY IS NOT.

GURBA.

RADIO. ARGUMENT. LUNCH.

CJSR 88.5

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