Merry Christmas!

It's our first one as a married couple, and the first time we have decorated our own tree. What do you think?

OK, so we went with the store-bought fakey kind, but we figured that since we will be spending alot of Christmases with our families, if we went for the authentic sapin de Noel we'd probably end up with a seldom-watered parched tree shedding needles all over the place. This way, we can still buy a real tree those years that we choose to, and have an artificial one for those years that we don't.

I've been thinking about time alot, lately. This year, we are doing Christmas with Nesrine's family, and going to the Ellard homestead for New Year's Eve. As we Ellard kids get older and marry into other families, I suppose this type of thing will occur more frequently, but it still feels a bit odd to not be home for Christmas. The last time I missed Christmas was the year I went to the Yucatan peninsula with some Montreal Friends. I think that was four years ago, but I may be wrong. I'm now decidedly into my third decade on this earth, and I can no longer say I "recently" entered my thirties. Already, my twenties are fading into the recesses of my memory so that I can no longer recall when certain things happened, exactly. When did I come to Ottawa? Was it five years ago?

It's odd, because I remember thinking the same thing a decade ago about my early teenage years during the eighties. What year did I first see "The Terminator" on video with Jason Ball? When did we move to Geraldton? What season was I the Assistant Captain for the Geraldton Goldminers hockey team? Was I in Peewee or Midget? The mundane details have tended to fade out first as I advance in years, but eventually, even those events from my late teens that at the time seemed so earth shattering --breaking up with Alison, doing basic training in Wainwright, Alberta -- have begun to take on a bit of a translucent quality in my mind's eye, as if I was watching the grainy footage of an old newsreel... I get the sense that I'm missing some of the detail around the edges, and just beyond the frame of the picture.

Some mind-blowing stuff has been happening to me lately that makes me realize how fast time is rushing by. First of all, I got back in touch with someone who was doing their Master's degree at the same time I was. He's now a PhD living in Toronto with a wife and kids. Realizing that was almost ten years ago floored me: Wait, I was in Graduate School almost ten years ago? It's true. The date 1999 on my MA confirms it: I started it in 1997. A friend of mine, whom I met as a bright, fiercely independent girl barely out of high school, who was so very cynical about love and relationships --she once called marriage a "social construct" -- will soon be a married woman. If you told me five years ago that she would be married by the time 2007 rolled around I would have laughed at you. But here we are: the wedding is in less than a week. I'm exceptionally happy that her and her husband-to-be, who is a real stand-up guy, are taking the plunge. It really is a great club to be in!

So time marches on, and the end of the year affords us all an opportunity to think about the time we have been given, and how we are spending it. Here's hoping I can spend more time with each of you in the new year, and in the many years to come.

This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Charmsley McBrayington: Loathing Leah

Best advice I ever gave myself about Leah Maclaren: It was after my second rage-induced stroke of the morning, as I recall, and as I slumped against the wall of the Second Cup, my left eyelid twitching, the crumpled pages of the Globe and Mail between my trembling ink-stained fingers, I told myself -- NEVER READ THIS COLUMN AGAIN.

Leah McLaren is the amalgam of everything I despised about myself and my friends when I was in my twenties: the narcism, the ridiculous self-importance, the grotesque sanctimony, the vapid self-indulgence, the lack of self-consciousness. The fact that she gazes out at me from her the headshot next to her byline, good-looking in an insolent nordic kind of way, just adds fuel to the bonfire of contempt her inane, thoroughly mediocre writings provoke. A WASP Rebecca Eckler, the Paris Hilton of the pen, McLaren has no peer when it comes to pushing my buttons... and now I hear she wrote a novel.

I want to do what's right. I want to head to Chapters with a jerrican of gasoline and a fistful of matches and burn the entire M section to cinders, in the event that any of her drivel may have somehow seeped from beneath the covers of her book and polluted Alistair Maclean's Guns of Navarone. Who's with me? Time is short, and Alistair is counting on us.


Questions Charmsley's been asking himself lately:

How did the Zionists get all those people to tattoo their arms so convincingly?

Is the world destined to fall under the tyranny of "frisbee people"?

Are immigrants to Quebec being turned into Quebecers rather than Canadians?

Have public servants always been reluctant to change their hours of work?

Does hypocrisy and stupidity come easily to Mallick, or does she have to make an effort?

How many of the negative reviews for Apocalypto are really about Mel Gibson's objectionable behaviour, rather than his skill as a director?

And what about Polanski? Was his art also judged through the prism of his actions?

How many Liberals straddle the line between anti-Israel, and anti-semitic? And will this have an effect on their support in Montreal and Toronto?

Who will be the first journalist to challenge the media consensus and potentially endanger their career by bravely point out that, far from being a hunk, young Justin Trudeau is actually a bit effeminate?

Prepare For Baueristic Brutality...

New season starts soon


Go here for all your Jack Bauer needs

Headshaker of the Day:

Santa in the Age of Political Correctness



Jawdropper of the Day:

Dude does Simpsons' theme on his guitar - Ay Caramba

Dion Wins!














Liberal establishment reacts

Endgame

Everybody's second choice turns out to be the man of the hour. Can Dion pull it off? It sure looks like he will.

Conservatives may have been praying for an Ignatieff win. It seems that what they will have to go up against instead is a charisma-deficient wonk with a formidable intellect and a strategic mind, (sound familiar?) one which is every inch the match for that of their own leader.

So, Canadian politics is about to get interesting... and alot smarter.

Mug's game

At this point, it is anybody's guess. Dryden left jaws on the floor by, gasp, showing a bit of passion. He ain't going out like a punk. Dion did OK, but whoever was supposed to time him on the floor of the convention should be drawn and quartered. The end of his speech will go unheard for all time, a victim of the rigorous timekeeping that is the order of the day for this convention.

Kennedy impressed, and he alone spoke of the need for Libs to do a bit of introspection... but how much of an apetite is there for that? I mean, who are we kidding? This is the Liberals we are talking about. Their number one priority is regaining power.

Rae spoke best to that inate desire, I think. He riffed sans script through his entire speech. Hebert suggested he may have damaged himself with Quebec delegates by speaking so little French, but that remains to be seen. It sounded to me like he was auditioning for the job of PM. Policy? Fresh ideas? Screw that! Bob Rae is the guy with experience and political smarts, the guy who can win the next election. Forget introspection, or a quest to cleanse the party of past sins. He is the cynic's choice; the guy who has the backroom boys in his corner and the guy who will deliver electorally as quickly as possible.

Joe Volpe was later seen welded to Rae's posterior. After first ballot, his butt belongs to Bob. hankering for a cabinet seat, Volpe? Never let it be said that Mr. Volpe ever let an opportunity to cheapen the political process pass him by.

This thing is Ignatieff's to lose and he may be in the process of losing it. The speech was so-so. He needed to set the place of fire to cement his place as the front runner, but he produced nary a spark. That, plus the first ballot results that show he did not reach 30% may mean that things will get awful interesting tomorrow. Let' s all have a gander...

Where's Bono?

Oh Yeah... I forgot

I've been watching the Paul Martin tribute and it is like a flashback to some ghastly Canadian-heritage sponsored variety show from the nineties, with Sheila Copps-approved publicly-funded CanCon drek like Natalie McMaster and Colin James... hey where are the Inuit Throatsingers? Aren't they up next? Oh, and Mark Tewkesbury is a real spazz isn't he?

The crowd leaves me with the impression that these people want to get the plaudits over with as quickly as possible so that they can sweep this PM relic into the dustpan and move forward. For a party used to being in power, there can't be that much fondness or nostaligia for a guy like Martin, who aimed so high, and fell so short. Slaying the deficit? Please. What have you done for me lately?

For a party that lovingly hearkens back to the golden years under Trudeau, one so proud of their history, these guys seem to have pretty short memories of late. After all, they are poised to crown a guy who would tear down alot of what Trudeau stood for, notwithstanding how the handlers spin it

In spite of what I wrote in my previous post, I really have no idea who is gonna walk away with this thing. Weston says Rae... What do you think? Kinsella is blogging on the spot, so you know you gotta check him out over the weekend... he's an SOB, but he's a real entertaining SOB!

They just showed a clip of some Mercer and Martin tomfoolery... Sure, Rick Mercer is great, but the folks who took up the mantle over at 22 Minutes have been pretty great lately, too! Majumder, Critch, and Crawford are really funny young guys, and they each have a strangely compelling brand of chemistry with each other and the milfy Cathy Jones.

Back to the Convention... Martin is speaking now. Just as he did on the night of his defeat last January, he is giving one heck of a speech. He always seemed tongue-tied and befuddled when he reigned supreme... Strange that humbled, he should be so eloquent! Bye Paul. You were a great Finance Minister... PM, not so much.

In other news...

Canadian War Resister? Nope, big lying bag of poop.

BONUS BORAT CONTENT!

Whaaat? No fermented horse urine?

Paul Prognosticates

For what it is worth, I think he is bang-on. Harper desperately wants to see Ignatieff win (the one candidate who cannot beat him over the head with the Afghanistan stick)... and that's why he threw him a lifeline with the Quebec motion. He could have left him twisting in the wind, but he didn't... why? Does Harper strike you as a charitable guy? No, he knows Ignatieff was in some trouble, so he rescued him. The Liberals will now try to bury the Quebec nonsense (note silly Quebec delegates' resolution already withdrawn), paving the way for the crowning of Prince Michael of the Ivory Tower.

Then watch Harper bury the gaffe prone Iggy next election.

A reminder: Wells' Rules of Canadian Politics.

Keep those in mind as you watch events unfold this weekend...

The Politically incorrect Nintendo character:



Soda Popinski made his first appearance in the arcade as the 'Champion of the USSR' in the 1984 game Super Punch-Out!!; although back then he was known under the less politically-correct name of Vodka Drunkenski.



Loads of links:


The Trainwreck Waiting to Happen

The Viggo Mortensen Epic you probably haven't heard about

People have a weird habit of getting thrown out of windows in Prague

VDH: We in the West write movies about the Prez getting killed, while elsewhere...

Slightly related to the Richards freak-out: Never mind the provocative title, it's a really interesting essay

How many ways can a dog return to his vomit?

One of the earliest sponsors of immigration to Canada, now almost forgotten

How would you like to have David Frum's old job?

My contribution: Christ Came Again; Imagine our surprise

Benedict XVI and the Heart of the Matter

From the tyranny of the Vancouverites and all their detestable enormities, Good Lord deliver us

Peter Jackson Won't be Making THE HOBBIT

Based on a completely unscientific analysis, I'd say this bit of news registers as an Extinction Level Event for fantasy cinema.

New Line may be about to blow the surest Two Billion dollars any studio ever saw.

The shockwaves are already evident...

Mid-November doldrums

Haven't felt much like blogging lately, but here are a few items that might amuse you:

Lomins arrived in Morocco safely. She shouldn't have trouble finding lodging.Everyone in that country appears to be moving to Spain

Do as the Romans did: Sean Maloney on Afghanistan

Rex for GG! I can't get enough of this guy. I find it hilarious when the extremely articulate Murphy deploys his formidable vocab to address whimsical topics like our parliamentarians' shabby treatment of a beloved national institution. But seriously, no worries, boy. Grapes can take care of himself.

Here's a headscratcher From yesterday's G&M:

A majority of Canadians accept multiculturalism in principle, but that support evaporates when immigrant religious and cultural practices threaten gender equality, according to a new poll examining Canadians' views of Muslims. The vast majority - 81 per cent -- of 2,021 Canadians surveyed said immigrants should adapt to mainstream Canadian beliefs about the rights and role of women, an opinion that was shared almost equally across demographic, income, education, age and gender lines. Half the respondents said immigrants and minority ethnic groups should be free to maintain their religious and cultural practices in Canada, while 40 per cent said immigrants should blend into Canadian society and not form separate communities. The study revealed, however, that the majority of Canadians welcome the Muslim community as a vital part of the Canadian fabric, with 75 per cent saying that Muslim immigrants make a positive contribution to Canada. As well, half of Canadians say they have a positive impression of Islam, an increase of four percentage points from 2003. "The survey underlines how important multiculturalism is, on the one hand, and the Charter of Rights and Freedoms is, on the other. "Where they clash, Charter equality rights trump multiculturalism," said Fred Lowy, interim president of the Montreal-based Pierre Elliott Trudeau Foundation, which commissioned the poll from Environics. "At the same time, Canada is not retreating from multiculturalism, as several European countries are, including Sweden and Denmark, in light of 9/11 and terrorist attacks in London and Madrid."

Uh... what? They aren't retreating "in light of 9/11 and terrorist attacks in London and Madrid"... that makes it sound like people panicked after the attack and suddenly became bigots... maybe if some European countries are in fact retreating from multiculturalism, it could be because multiculturalism, at least in its present form, is not working for them.

Quid est Veritas?

Who the heck knows? All I know is that this Bill Whittle guy comes up with some goood stuff!

Random military snippet of the day:Mr. Miyagi's unit

It's a joy to meet you, old chap!

Whenever I despair for humanity, a story like this always seems to pop up to renew my faith in Mankind.

Great War foes embrace as friends

Britain's and Germany's oldest veterans meet for the first time, 90 years after they served on the Western Front

David Smith in Witten, Germany
Sunday October 29, 2006
The Observer


'I am the enemy you killed, my friend ...' That lament from Wilfred Owen's poem 'Strange Meeting' resonated afresh yesterday when two men who were enemies in a world war 90 years ago embraced each other as friends. Henry Allingham, Britain's oldest First World War veteran, and Robert Meier, who is Germany's equivalent, braved driving rain to attend what must have been one of the most informal, and moving, of all memorial services. With a combined age of 219, these two men know better than anyone the meaning of remembrance.

Allingham, making his first trip to Germany since he served in the army of occupation after the Great War, was in Meier's home town, Witten, near Dortmund, for the special meeting ahead of next month's Armistice anniversary. The men speak different languages but communicated with perfect eloquence through their actions, clasping each other's hands and hugging warmly.

Allingham, 110, proudly wearing his war medals, said: 'I'm very happy to be here and remember how good the German people were to me when I was last here in 1919.'

Meier, 109, sporting a flamboyant black beret, added: 'It's wonderful to be together. Everybody has to be friends.' Together the centenarians, dressed smartly in suits, ignored a downpour as they were wheeled side by side to a tall, brick war memorial in the town's Lutherpark. With a monumental effort, aided by RAF men in uniform, Allingham struggled to his feet and laid a wreath of poppies at its foot.

Then the two men - who were foes in the same sector of the Western Front in 1917 - shook hands and, with unexpected tenderness, could not let one another go. For long minutes their hands remained as if welded together. Allingham glanced across at his new friend, then burst into a mischievous chuckle.

There were short speeches from Witten's mayor and from the RAF's deputy commander-in chief, Peter Dye, who said: 'It's very special that these two men are here in the spirit of friendship and peace. May their example be something we think about and reflect upon.' Then the duo were wheeled up the memorial to place the second wreath together. Dennis Goodwin, a friend who brought Allingham to Germany, exclaimed: 'Good cooperation! Bravo!' Goodwin said later: 'They say that words are a barrier but they did it all with looks and touch. They were both very happy.'

Both men have found it easier to talk about the war, and take part in public commemorations, as they have grown older. They also share a sense of humour. Allingham attributes his longevity to 'Cigarettes, whisky, and wild, wild women.' Meier puts his down to 'sport, a healthy diet, especially plenty of fish ... and the odd glass of schnapps', as well as his enduring popularity with women. He recently proposed marriage to the town mayor and a local journalist. Both declined.

Allingham and Meier are the oldest men in their respective countries. Allingham remembers watching WG Grace play cricket. Meier remembers meeting the Kaiser during the First World War. Both are fighting fit for their age. Goodwin joked: 'I said Allingham can go three rounds if you like.' He added that there had been a plan to make yesterday a three-way meeting with France's oldest veteran, but he was too frail to travel.

Yet for a long time Meier had been written out of the history books. Last year the death of 108-year-old Charles Kuentz was widely reported as the passing of Germany's last First World War veteran. In fact the number of Germans had been underestimated: Goodwin is aware of three still alive, and some sources suggest as many as eight. The number of known British veterans alive stands at nine, including one woman.

Allingham is now the most active of all of them and has attended several commemorative services in Britain and abroad. He joined the Royal Naval Air Service in 1915, became a Mechanic First Class and flew eight missions as a gunner. He served aboard one of the first aircraft carriers and witnessed the Battle of Jutland, then in early 1917 was sent to the Western Front, where he serviced planes and had to retrieve those shot down at Ypres and the Somme. In 1918 he transferred to the newly formed RAF and is its sole surviving founder member.

Not so far away, the young Meier, born in 1897 to German parents in Ukraine, was also in the trenches. He fought again in the Second World War and was taken prisoner by the Soviet Union, which held him for two years. 'The time in prison took it out of me,' he recalled, adding that without that hardship he would be even more mobile today.

Allingham, however, is still setting the pace. Next week he will be back on the road - laying a wreath in France.



November 11 is Remembrance Day. Wear a RED poppy.



Henry's trembling hand reaches out to touch Robert's cheek and, as his eyes fill up, he says: "It's a joy to meet you, old chap."

Beaming Robert clutches Henry's shoulder and says: "Wunderbar!".

Throughout lunch, the pair clutch hands and hold their heads close in conversation like old comrades rather than former foes.

An interpreter sitting with them dabs tears from his eyes because their exchanges are so affectionate. Henry tells Robert: "I can't see very well. I can't hear very well. But I can still feel. And it feels wonderful to meet you. A thousand words cannot convey how happy I feel today."

Robert responds: "You and I prove that we are never too old to make new friends - and I already consider you an old friend. You understand so much of what I am saying, but there are not many of us left."

Decision 2006

Once again, the United States of America has enobled itself and shamed its detractors with its display of the democratic process: A hard fought election, high voter turnout, a clear result.

That government is the strongest of which every man feels himself a part.

Thomas Jefferson

High Five!

"A dramatic demonstration of how racism feeds on dumb conformity, as much as rabid bigotry"



That's how Sacha Baron Cohen describes Borat's lunacy, and its almost mesmerising effect on some of the people with whom he comes into contact, many of whom nod in agreement at his over-the-top bigotry and ignorance. Not only is Baron Cohen's movie almost unbearably funny, it is clever as hell, and eminently quotable too. I just know that my brothers and I will be tossing lines from it to each other months from now. No spoilers from me. Just go see the damn thing already before someone tells you too much and ruins parts of it for you. If you are looking for a bit of insight into the movie, however, of the many reviews I have read, Katrina Onstad's is the best.

Uh oh... Mahir says I no Kiss you! Come on, dude, you are so last century.

Of Dogs and Dogma

Yesterday, in this this piece in the Toronto Star. Susan Delacourt illustrated to what extent we in this country are increasingly preoccupied by petty, trivial matters. She segues neatly from discussing the reality vs faith based communities (a favourite media trope) in the republic to the south of us and their stake in tomorrow's election, to the latest media-fabricated scandale-du-jour up here: Whether or not Peter McKay referred to Belinda Stronach as a dog.


Boy... do we ever need to get serious.

But anyway, at the end of this commentary, ostensibly about the need to embrace the reality-based view, Delacourt writes:

the explosion of blogs and multiple news cycles create all kinds of opportunities to spread wrong information. Worse, the frenzied pace of news these days allows mistruths to be repeated so many times, they come to be seen as the truth.

So that's where she was going. The devaluing of truth is due not only to deliberate government malfeasance, but to "multiple news cycles" and to bloggers usurping journalists' traditional role as the arbiters of the truth. Sounds like someone is feeling a bit threatened.

The ugly "truth" is that anyone can call themselves a journalist... after all, it ain't like being a lawyer or physician, where one needs to be accredited and put letters behind one's name. Credibility, not accreditation, is the standard by which we judge those who take on the profession of journalism, and that credibility is not bestowed from upon high. It cannot simply be taken as a given, it must be earned. That's not up to the reader, folks. That's up to the journalist.

So when journalists wonder how "non-traditional" sources of information could possibly be taken as seriously as their own supposedly "reality-based" reporting they need to take a long, hard look in the mirror. As many in the blogging community see it, one of the reasons that non-MSM (non-Mainstream media) information sources have proliferated is the homogenization of MSM news: Interconnected media-elites, cut from the same J-school cloth and increasingly cut off from the man on the street, are giving us the same story the same way... and from the same point of view: a bland and vaguely self-righteous centre-left perspective.

How does this happen? Maybe today's journalists' first instinct, weaned as they are on Watergate and everything that followed, is to dive head-first into the Government-generated spin to figure out "what is really happening" (i.e. how the public is being lied to). Unfortunately, what they come up with is sometimes equally questionable: received wisdom that they see as "the truth"... Remember the NYT's deliberate revealing of the details of the Treasury Board's Terorist Financing detection program? These damaging revelations were seen as a necessary way of exposing the administration's lies.... when in fact, these "lies" were simple omissions in the name of national security, and keeping this information secret was in no way harming any honest American.

I'm not sure if the problem is the oft-mentioned "liberal media bias" so much as it is that an anti-establishment streak and suspicious nature have been the hallmark of journalists for some time. They all seem to want to be Woodward and Bernstein...even if that means fabricating watergates to fit their worldview.

In the sixties, it was "Don't trust anybody over thirty"... but we have long since truncated that little aphorism. Sometimes this "don't trust anybody" (DTA) mentality can be a good thing... but sometimes, it distorts our picture of what is really happening because we cannot conceive that every so often, our government may have the common good and the public interest as its primary motive.

Ironically, the DTA philosophy is what drives bloggers to question the media elites as much as it drives the media to question the government!

Jagshemash!



No, You do not need to make adjust in your internets. My name not Borat, but I am doing blogging in style of him in honor of Moviefilm Borat: Cultural Learnings of America For Make Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, which central committee of state-approved reviews, called Rotting Tomatoes, give award of 92% today --Praise for realistic depicting jews, retards, and gypsies in natural state, plus educational of culture of U.S. and A.

So when can be seen this work of cinema, ask? I am liking excite, but not so fast! Moviefilm of Borat like prostitute with bad leg: Take long time to get to house, but eventually, have the excite and sexytime hand relief! Friday you ride horse or large pig to filmhouse for pay and then see, maybe! If any Uzbeks there, sit away far from them. As you know, they are nosy peoples.

Chenquieh

Michael Ignatieff is GRITFACE




Joo wanna play? OK, Les' Play!

"You wanna go to war? We take you to war! OK?"

Michael Ignatieff: The Answer to a Question No One Needs to Ask

Need a Can of Worms Opened? Mr. Ignatieff is your man.

So, are we to revisit the question of Quebec sovereignty and the nature of Canadian Federalism for the umpteenth time? The PM, so far, has refused to bite.

The proposal has even spurred the formidable Andrew Coyne to revive his moribund blog and call "Bullshit" on the Liberal's revisionist history.

Don Martin speculates on the recognition of a "Quebec Nation", writing sardonically in in Friday's NP:

...one might well ask what Quebec would look like as a stand-alone "nation" outside a nine-province "country." For starters, it'll be an overtaxed island of red ink in a sea of balanced books. The province's Auditor-General recently declared Quebec's books, with the largest per capita debt in North America at roughly $118-billion, are but a slab of fiscal fudgery. The debt could be even greater, fed by a $5.3-billion annual deficit despite a markedly higher tax regime.
Those living in Quebec now claim $60,000 less in assets, earn $2,500 below the Canadian income average and, as former Quebec premier Lucien Bouchard noted, fall far short of a hard puritan work ethic. They work two fewer hours weekly and claim three more sick days per year than Ontario. They rack up almost half of all strike and lockout work stoppages in Canada and their construction industry is shut down for two weeks in July, thus forcing a seasonal workforce to down tools during its peak season.

Honestly, I'm tempted to say it is time for Quebec to join the EU!

Paul Wells, that Porcine Dion groupie, is getting as worked up at the latest hare-brained scheme to "recognize" Quebec masterminded by Ignatieff's supporters as he has been over the media's steadfast refusal to recognize the brilliance of his man Steph. Between that, his quirky jazz fixation, and his innovation fetish, he is getting a bit obsessive as he approaches middle age, ain't he?

Actually, I have no idea how old he is, but judging from his photo and TV appearances, he looks like he is pushing forty.

Don't get me wrong... I've always like the guy. He seems to have a sense of humour. I once spotted him on Sparks street, holding court at one of the shitty little patios that isn't D'Arcy McGee's and smiled in recognition. I couldn't recall his name at that moment, for some strange reason, but I knew he was a columnist who followed Federalism closely. I complemented him on his work and shook his hand, introducing myself as an Intergovernmental Affairs employee who read with interest his blog, he grinned at me and said "Scott Feschuk, nice to meet you!"

I only got the joke after looking up Mr. Feschuk

Har-de-har-har.

Feschuk is now his doppleganger at Macleans, which seems kinda funny, when you consider that Feschuk was once Paul Martin's speechwriter... and most readers of Inkless Wells know what Paul thinks of our erstwhile PM.

I wonder what Paul Martin makes of all this, anyway...

*****

National Day of Disengagement and Retreat

All across Canada today, people are taking to the streets to say: We Give Up!

Thankfully, Al Qaeda have generously indicated their willingness to accept the surrender of us "Second-rate crusaders" and "Fanatical Christians" --Boy do they have our number!

They warn that failure to act according to the wishes of our homegrown peace activists, dupes, and jihadists will result in atrocities of the kind seen in London, Madrid, Bali, and of course, New York and Washington.

Never let it be said that Canada doesn't know how to respond to threats of this kind.

All across the nation, the white flags are being raised high.

And yet, what's this? the warlords in the Canadian Forces persist in ramping up their recruiter-recruiting efforts for this illegal colonial war of occupation, with CDS Hillier calling for "80,000 new recruiters?" Hippies everywhere are up in arms over the Newfie Warmonger's nefarious plan,

Oh, you mean every member of the Canadian Forces will now play a role in recruiting?

For a second there, we thought he was talking about actually brining in 80,000 new recruiters... it is reassuring to note that some McGill students have taken time to figure out what he actually meant, between hits from the bong

"Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice... and moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue." Barry Goldwater

*****

Booth saves Lincoln!: 1865 D.C. newspaper headline in alternate universe? It actually happened. It's fascinating to contemplate the intertwining of history's threads. Nevermind the "What Ifs" of alternative history fiction; the coincidences and flukes that abound in actual history are what make the discipline so fascinating to me.

So Rubble doesn't cause Trouble, eh?

Mark Steyn doesn't agree. In his new book, he writes on page 79:

Wearying of what he regards as the deluded idealism of the liberty-touting Bush doctrine, National Review's John Derbyshire began promoting the slogan "Rubble doesn't cause trouble" Cute, and I wish him well with the T-shirt sales. But, in arguing for a "realist" foreign policy of long-range bombing as necessary, he overlooks the very obvious point that rubble causes alot of trouble: The rubble of Bosnia is directly responsible for radicalizing a generation of European Muslims, including Daniel Pearl's executioner; the rubble of Afghanistan became an international terrorist training camp, whose alumni include the shoe-bomber Richard Reid. the millennium bomber Ahmed Ressam, and the September 11 plotters; the rubble of Grozny turned Chechen nationalists into pan-Islamist jihadi. Those correspondents of mine who send me e-mails headed "Nuke Mecca!" might like to ponder the bigger strategic impact on a billion Muslims from Indonesia to Yorkshire, for whom any fallout will be psychological rather than carcinogenic. Rubble is an insufficient solution, unless you're also going to attend to the Muslim world's real problem: its intellectual rubble.

Incidentally, I'm about half-way through the book, and so far the one thing I can say about it is that even if one discounts every single claim Mr. Steyn makes --and I don't-- the situation appears to be alarming, because numbers, after all, don't lie.

Demography trumps everything. Facts are facts. The "West"(meaning Europe and certain other industrialized nations) has largely stopped reproducing and is in demographic decline. Populations are on the move. The world of tomorrow will be shaped by the interaction of new populations, which have already taken root and are in the process of supplanting the old ones. How this transition occurs cannot be predicted with any certainty, but we can certainly look for markers as we head down this path. The picture Steyn paints, with his trademark wit, is a grim one.

I highly recommend reading this book!

More Rubble Less Trouble:

Victor Davis Hanson looks at scenarios for Darfur and thinks that the failure of interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan may mean the birth of something scarier. Some may live to regret the failure of the neocons' attempts to implant democracy in the heart of the Middle East when the troops leave and the missiles begin raining down on Damascus, Kandahar, Tehran after each new terrorist attack.

I predict exactly the sort of scenario he presents if the troops on the ground are withdrawn: A return to the days when the U.S., reluctant to take casualties on the ground, casually oblitaterated targets in air campaigns (see Kosovo, for example).... which is exactly why I pray for some measure of success in the current NATO and US operations now underway. A reversion to that policy would wreak unimaginable devastation and cause many innocent deaths, making what we saw in Israel and Lebanon this summer look like small potatoes. The doctrine of pre-emptive war would in effect be replaced by one of punitive warfare, involving attacks aimed at so devastating those states that harbour terrorists, or tolerate their presence, that they would in effect be "bombed back to the stone age" --which was the threat that was used on Musharaf in the wake of 9-11 to ensure his cooperation in the nascent War on Terror. That is some scary shit.

On a lighter note, it seems that Kazakhstan has shifted its approach with its least favourite son, and is calling him home so that he can see the error of his ways:

Homecoming for BORAT?

Chicago photos

Here are a bunch of shots that showcase what I think is the most impressive cityscape I have ever seen.

Randomosity

One of my favourite poems: Shelley's Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said:-Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,

Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown

And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,

The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains: round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.


A Canadian Baron?... and it ain't Conrad Black.

The Countdown Has Begun...

KHAAANN!!!!

The Incredible Shrinking Iggy

A few "strategic words" in Quebec to address Israeli "War Crimes", prove his Liberal bona fides and shore up the base, and next thing you know, it's negative-one campaing co-chair. B'nai Brith has expressed its displeasure, as has the Canada-Israel committee, natch. Will the Liberals manage to do what even their hitherto-inept counterparts south of the border have avoided: alienate the jewish vote? In contrast, Harper --to the left's comprehensive disgust, has reaffirmed the G-o-C's commitment to Israel. Both of these stances may be pure realpolitik, but they may also signify a seismic shift on the Canadian political landscape if the jewish vote now goes Conservative en masse. If that happens, there will be a doings a transpirin' come election time, as the Westmount and Rosedale chickens come home to roost --bye bye Montreal and Toronto Liberal clean sweep --which was, you may recall, the lone silver lining for the Grits in the dark cloud of the 2006 election. Some leaders grow in office. Before he even gets there, Michael Ignatieff is shrinking before our very eyes.

The Rough Edge of His Tongue

Mark Steyn does not normally bother responding to this kind of mail, he just posts it on his site and maybe drops in a quip or two for the reader's amusement. Something about this woman's self righteous tone must have set him off though.... behold the carnage!:

On June 23, 1944, the Nazis permitted the visit by the Red Cross in order to dispel rumours about the exterminations camps. The commission included E. Juel-Henningsen, the head physician at the Danish Ministry of Health, and Franz Hvass, the top civil servant at the Danish Foreign Ministry. Dr Paul Eppstein was instructed by the SS to appear in the role of the mayor of Theresienstadt. To minimize the appearance of overcrowding in Theresienstadt, the Nazi deported many Jews to Auschwitz. Also deported in the some 7,500 were most of the Czechoslovakian workers assigned to 'Operation Embellishment.' They also erected fake shops and cafés to imply that the Jews lived in relative comfort. The Danes whom the Red Cross visited lived in freshly painted rooms, not more than three in a room. The guests enjoyed the performance of a children's opera, Brundibar, which was written by inmate Hans Krása.
The hoax against the Red Cross was so successful for the Nazis that they went on to make a propaganda film at Theresienstadt. Shooting of the film began on February 26, 1944. Directed by Jewish prisoner Kurt Gerron (a director, cabaret performer, and actor who appeared with Marlene Dietrich in The Blue Angel), it was meant to show how well the Jews lived under the "benevolent" protection of the Third Reich. After the shooting most of the cast, and even the filmmaker himself, were deported to Auschwitz. Gerron and his wife were executed in the gas chambers on October 28, 1944. The film was not released at the time, but was edited into pieces that served their purpose, and only segments of it have remained.

Often called The Führer Gives a Village to the Jews, the correct name of the film is: Theresienstadt. Ein Dokumentarfilm aus dem jüdischen Siedlungsgebiet (Terezin: A Documentary Film of the Jewish Resettlement). (Cf. Hans Sode-Madsen: The Perfect Deception. The Danish Jews and Theresienstadt 1940-1945. Leo Baeck Yearbook, 1993)

What a coward you are, Mark Steyn, and a traitor. You will be held accountable for your giggly and chillingly revolting bit of reporting on Gitmo. You represent so absolutely the utter depravity of this nation and its hideous cult of authoritarianism. God help you in the next life when you will be forced to review your morally black actions here.

Celia Thaxter

MARK: So Gitmo is the new Theresienstadt, eh? Well, that's an improvement. I thought you lot thought it was the new Auschwitz. But, just as a matter of interest, if Gitmo's the new Theresienstadt, where exactly is the Auschwitz? As to who will be forced to review their morality, perhaps one day you'll sit down and stumble across your letter to me and think about what it is you've just done: you've compared your own government and your fellow citizens serving in the military to the perpetrators of one of the worst genocides in history. Do you realize not just how nutty that is? Rational discussion with you is impossible because if you think Bush is Hitler and Gitmo is Theresienstadt then you have so debased the language that you will have no words left for real horrors. Shame on you and your rotten diseased heart: you mock not just the young men and women I met at Guantanamo doing a thankless job for less pay than you get but the dead and bereaved of 60 years ago, who unlike you understood all too clearly what real horror was. You've become unmoored from reality. Good luck trying to grope your way back. I've got no further time for you.

Yowch!

Plus:
Borat: He go to Washington for meet with conference of press syndicate!

Ridiculously Late

But I don't like to leave stories half-finished. My cryptic remarks concerning food in my last Chicago-related post related to the gargantuan meal we ate at a place called Gibson's Steak House. We spent the day in the southern stretch of downtown, in an area known as "the Loop". Our afternoon included a trip up to the top of the Sears Tower for a view of... well, not a heck of alot thanks to the cloudy conditions, and a walk along the banks of the Chicago River. Nesrine also managed to find a pair of shoes in an outlet store for ten bucks --pretty fantastic, when you consider her intro to the Chicago shopping experience on our first day.

That night, we caught a show at the famed Second City. that's the place that has been spewing comedians onto the cultural landscape of America for decades, and I have no doubt that some of the young talent we saw that night will go on to big careers in TV and movies. It really is a remarkable institution; almost like Grad school for people with a comedy vocation. After that, we ended up at a Restaurant called Gibson's Steakhouse. Apparently, alot of big stars visit the place --a legion of photos featuring smiling celeb faces greet the visitor on the staircase to the second floor. Although we were famished after a long day of walking everywhere, neither of us was prepared for the Gibson's experience. The smallest steak on the menu would have fed both of us easily, with enough left over for lunch the next day. Nevertheless, we did our best. It might not have been so bad, had we not foolishly ordered the potato side dish: Evidently the result of some genetic research into breeding spuds that will feed entire neighbourhoods in one sitting-- Served on a full size dinner plate, it looked like a mutant football oozing with cheese.

We had just barely made it through the meal and I was in the process of unbuttoning my pants when our server, a really cool fast-talking cat who bore a passing resemblance to Don Cheadle, brought us a slice of apple pie a la mode on the house. We had told him we had just gotten married, and this was his way of punishing us for our happiness, I guess. In all seriousness, the pie was delicious, but it only came in one size: "Chicago" --meaning a single one-piece serving was basically the size of your standard hubcap. To make matters worse, the table next to us sent a piece of cake over with their congratulations. Even though it was only a sliver off of the piece they had ordered to share, I couldn't have finished it in a million years. 6 inches high, It towered over us, looming threateningly. After a few bites, we surrendered, paid our bill, and waddled out of the restaurant.

The next morning, we hit the jazz festival in Grant Park, and got to check out some live jazz, as well as of the marching bands from a number of Chicagoland high schools. This was possibly the coolest experience of the whole trip. Like nothing I have ever seen. I'll try to post some pictures when I get a chance. We left Chicago late on Saturday afternoon after 3 hectic fun-filled days. Definitely a destination I can see myself visiting again some day.

So that's our trip to Chicago... and it only took me a month to get it up on my blog... Timely! Next week, maybe I'll write about my high school graduation, or the time I fell off my bike when I was eleven.

Sheesh!

It's The End Of The World As We Know It And I Feel Fine

Attention Leftists: I drug this here out of some dustbin out back marked "history"! This guy had it all wrong. And, as you'll eventually realize, you have it wrong too.

In March of this year of 1919, an international congress of Communists was held in Moscow. This congress founded the Third, Communist International, an association of the workers of the whole world who are striving to establish Soviet power in all countries. The First International, founded by Marx, existed from 1864 to 1872. The defeat of the heroic workers of Paris-of the celebrated Paris Commune-marked the end of this International. It is unforgettable, it will remain for ever in the history
of the workers' struggle for their emancipation. It laid the foundation of that
edifice of the world socialist republic which it is now our good fortune to be
building. The Second International existed from 1889 to 1914, up to the war. This was the period of the most calm and peaceful development of capitalism, a period without great revolutions. During this period the working-class movement gained strength and matured in a number of countries. But the workers' leaders in most of the parties had become accustomed to peaceful conditions and had lost the ability to wage a revolutionary struggle. When, in 1914, there began the war, that drenched the earth with blood for four years, the war between the capitalists over the division of profits, the war for supremacy over small arid weak nations, these leaders deserted to the side of their respective governments. They betrayed the workers, they helped to prolong the slaughter, they became enemies of socialism, they went over to the side of the capitalists. The masses of workers turned their backs on these traitors to socialism. All over the world there was a turn towards the revolutionary struggle. The war proved that capitalism was doomed. A new system is coming to take its place. The old word socialism had been desecrated by the traitors to socialism. Today, the workers who have remained loyal to the cause of throwing off the yoke of capital call themselves Communists. All over the world the association of Communists is growing. In a number of countries Soviet power has already triumphed. Soon we shall see the victory of communism throughout the world; we shall see the foundation of the World Federative Republic of Soviets.

Lenin

*****

One of the scariest pieces of fiction I've read

*****

Anyone who has spent any amount of time around Newfoundlanders... particularly Newfoundlanders who are feeling at ease after a couple of beers should dig This Ad. God love the Newfies.

*****

Here's an idea... why doesn't the CBC start acting like a real public TV channel? I for one, can't to see Evan Solomon hosting a monthly pledge drive!

*****

A little context, please. What he actually said: Benedict at Regensburg

Bunting is getting a scourging from Guardian readers

Money quote from the Guardian message boards:

Islam is such a peaceable religion, why can?t I find the Byzantine Empire on a
map any more?

I thought it was funny... silly, but funny.

I found an interesting tidbit on a wikipedia article on the Byzantine Empire:

Why Western Civilization owes the Shiites:

During Constans' reign the Byzantines completely withdrew from Egypt, and the Arabs launched numerous attacks on the islands of the Mediterranean Sea and Aegean Sea. Constans sent a fleet to attack the Arabs at Finike in 655, but was defeated: 500 Byzantine ships were destroyed in the battle, and the emperor himself came close to being killed. Only a civil war with the Shiites prevented an Arab plan to attack Constantinople.

As a result, the Empire was saved, and it would take another 800 years for the muslims to conquer the City of Constantine.

*****

Take a Trip Through Hell!

*****

Like, just breathe, man!

Ellard, you foooool!

I guess I ain't quite got the hang of this here internet-machine...

I enabled "moderate comments" a while back and have never bothered to check my comments since then.

For anyone who suspected that I'm a fascist that is trying to stifle opinions that do not reflect my own on my little piece of blog real state... well, your suspicions have been confirmed!

Nevertheless, I'll check the comments from now on, and post everything but spam.

Chicago: Post numero quatre

On Thursday morning, I got up early and took a walk down to Navy Pier. Although it looked like a fun place to spend a bit of time, I didn't linger there long. I hadn't come all the way to Chicago to visit amusement parks, but rather, to accompany my new bride on her shopping trip (he wrote sarcastically). We spent that afternoon walking up the Magnificent Mile, which is the stretch of Michigan Ave. north of the Chicago river where one finds Saks 5th Ave, Ralph Lauren, Bloomingdales, and all the other big American chain stores that Nesrine and I could not afford. In spite of not being able to purchase anything, we still had a blast checking out the sites:

The Chicago Tribune

Looking for Bloomingdale's

Eventually we ended up stopping for lunch at a great Italian Restaurant on Rush Street.



Finally, after an exhausting afternoon of walking all over downtown, we headed back to the hotel to rest a bit before heading out for supper. One of the "must do" things on my list was to try the city's famous deep dish pizza and I had scouted out a restaurant on our way into the city for that very purpose. It was a pretty garish looking place on Ohio street, but I was encouraged by it's bold claim of being the "birthplace" of Chicago-style pizza. Our server advised us to get the small, but looking at the puny diameter of the pieplate that the staff had helpfully traced onto a poster and measuring my now considerable appetite, I scoffed at the very idea. We ordered a medium, and because we were told the pizza would take up to an hour to prepare, we got some cheezesticks to tide us over. Big mistake.

Forty minutes later, the pie arrived. I immediately understood why they called it a "pizza-pie" in those parts. More quiche-on steroids that pizza, it was three-inch deep concoction of mounds of cheeze, sauce and toppings in a real honest-to-goodness pie crust (yup, the kind made with shortening that Mom uses for apple and rhubarb pie). On top of that the crust was extra-thick. I balked, considering the irreparable damage I was about to do to my arteries. Nesrine looked revolted. Nevertheless, we tucked in, and an hour later, we staggered out of that restaurant/gastrointestinal-torture-chamber with aching bellies, having demolished barely half a piece each. We were anxious to put the ordeal behind us. My left arm began to ache on the way back to the hotel. In it, I cradled the remains of our pizza, approximately two-thirds of which was in pristine condition. The greasy cardboard box containing the leftovers of our meal weighed approximately twenty pounds. Nesrine eyed me curiously. "Wait til the old man tries a piece of this!" I said sadistically.

As it turned out, that was only a prelude to Friday's culinary adventures...

Chicago, Part III

The city of Chicago leaves the first-time visitor with a peculiar impression, if they enter the city by car. The closer one gets to Michigan Avenue and the Chicago river, the more one gets the impression that the city is set up on a vertical plane, rather than a horizontal one. The tall spires of the Chicago's famous skyscrapers disappear as you enter the downtown area and are funelled down into the bowels of the city, where streets stack up one on top of the other in parallel arteries. Then you have the L-train, which runs a good twenty feet above street level --the city does not have a subway... something to do with the water table, or perhaps soil conditions? Above the tracks, you also may catch a glimpse of skywalks between buildings, sometimes 5 or even 6 stories above ground. So basically, there may be 4 or 5 levels of trafic at some locations in the city, not counting the river-borne traffic, each moving independently one on top of the other.

We sped through the downtown, emerging from one of the subterranean streets to crossed the river and arrived at our destination, the Chicago Sheraton, just before 8 pm. We were delighted with the hotel's location, a stone's throw from the Magnificent Mile, which promised easy access on foot to most of the sights we wanted to get to in the three days we would spend in the city. We knew it advertised itself as a "downtown hotel", but past experience in booking on the web suggested that particular description may sometimes leave some room for interpretation (my favourite qualifier is "adjacent", as in downtown-adjacent --which usually means "be prepared to walk a bit or take a cab to get downtown"). When the lady at the front desk found out that we were newlyweds, she bumped our reservation up to "club level" and put is in a room on the 34th floor, suggesting that we go to the club lounge to enjoy some complimentary hors d'oeuvres and relax. Being quite exhausted, we were more than happy to oblige, and after dropping off our luggage and taking in the incomparable view from our room, we headed to the lounge, which was deserted.

As we sat and sipped glasses of wine and munched on some finger food, we tried to think of what we should do that night. We were both knackered, and we both seemed content to just relax and take in the panorama of downtown Chicago at night. Before we knew it, it was after 9 pm, and we found ourselves staggering back to our room. Unsure of our next move. Well, as it turned out, we didn't even go out that night. We had had enough for one day, and besides, the spectacular view from our room was all the entertainment we needed.

Chicago cont'd

So last week, Nesrine and I were debating possible getaway destinations when almost out of the blue she says "Why don't we go to Chicago?". From the time I moved to T-Bay I had often considered a roadtrip to the big city by Lake Michigan with some high school chums. After all, it looked pretty close to Mineapolis on the map --probably 5 hours on the interstate, and the Twin Cities were only 7 hours from the Lakehead by car, so we couldn't be talking more than 13 hours on the road, right? Well somehow, inspite on a ringing endorsement of the idea by a classmate who had done the trip... actually, this guy here Kevin, who is now a pretty successful actor, incidentally-- the trip never materialized.

Fast forward a decade-and-a-half, the Ellard newlyweds find themselves on the far side of the Windsor-Detroit tunnel being scrutinized by a border guard, who fixes us with his blank gaze and asks where we are going. "To Chicago, on our honeymoon", I reply enthusiastically, to which he retorts "have fun", without seeming to mean it terribly. We are now free to head to Chicago, by way of the interstate south to Toledo --my old man insists that is the long way. The trip had already seen us make quick stops in Montreal to return some wedding stuff, and Mississauga, to visit Joe and Michelle's new place--nice digs, incidentally, and probably a future license to print money, if current GTA housing demand is any indication. By early afternoon Wednesday, we hit Windsor to grab lunch with Grandma and Mila before pushing on to the Motor City, just across the Detroit river.

So after an hour of rutted and filthy blown-tire-strewn highways that can only be described as disgraceful (shame on the state of Michigan), we get to the Toledo area and hop on one of those curiosities of the American landscape, the toll highway. "This is what they get for having low taxes!" I jokingly tell Nesrine as I grab a ticket from the dispenser. It seems to me that it must be an incredible nuissance to have to drive around with handfuls of change in your car for the tollbooths... but then isn't that what drivers have to do anytime they need to park downtown? I estimate that we spend about $10 total on the trip that takes us through 3 states (Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois) --not too steep. The toll roads are excellent. Superior to what we have in Ontario even. The talk-radio that I inexplicably listen to all the way through the trip, however, is almost migraine-inducing. By 8 O'clock, we are in the Chicagoland area, and as we spy the mythical skyline of Chi-town in the distance, we begin to get even more excited about our visit. Soon, we will be in the big city!

To be continued

Chicago

After a week of prevaricating, my new wife and I decided to head to the Windy City for a post-wedding getaway --we figure the real honeymoon will be the next trip we take, when we are less broke.

What can I say about Chicago? It exceeded all expectations. Detroit, my only point of reference for a Northern U.S. industrial city, had left me wholly unprepared for the experience of visiting the "City with Big Shoulders". Detroit and Chicago are as different as night and day. Of course, I must admit that I had done very little pre-trip research on Chi-town, so aside from the usual cliches about gangsters, sports teams, and deep-dish pizza, I really had no idea what to expect.

Nesrine's first impression was that being in Chicago was like being on a movie set. I agree entirely. Chicago feels like the prototypical American metropolis, the one we conjure up in our mind when we are asked to picture a big American city. From the gleaming skyscrapers to the L-train to the port and river teeming with watercraft of every shape and description, it is the very image of a vigourous urban centre. Whereas Detroit's decrepit downtown is sometimes nearly deserted, Chicago feels alive 24-7. With crowds on every street and traffic that speeds beneath its skyscrapers at all hours of the day, it pulsates and throbs with life.

Here are some photos from our little trip:

The view from our room at the Sheraton, on the 34th floor:



Another view:





The Magnificent Mile

More to come!

First Pics of the Wedding

Courtesy of Paul, the Best Man.

Backstage: T-minus two minutes


Awaiting the Bride

Stunned After the Ceremony

Groom and His Boys

With Best Man's Family

(What was I doing with my mouth?)

More to come, folks!

Wedding Day

Nesrine, I love you.


Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:

You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together
when the white wings of death scatter your days.

Aye, you shall be together
even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.

Khalil Gibran
From the Book: The Prophet

Three days to go

My already sporadic blogging is getting less and less frequent as the big day approaches... Expect more of the same until the big day. Once we have photos, I'll try to put some up for those of you who couldn't make it.

Two Weeks to go...

The wedding is fast approaching, and planning continues apace. We have not reached the "frantic" stage, but we are getting there in leaps and bounds. There are so many details that must be attended to. The cake, the photographer, the hall, the seating arrangements, and so on. Mom will be coming down next Sunday to help us with the last sprint to the finish line, and thank the Lord, because Nesrine and I have noticed we are flagging. It is not that we aren't receiving plenty of offers of assistance from family and friends, far from it. I would say it has to do with our respective personalities: we are both quite independent, and hopelessly particular about certain things. For me, it's the photos. We went all out and splurged on this studio because, I reasoned, if the photos of the day aren't up to snuff, years from now, we'll regret that our abiding memories of the day are not really captured on film. I'm big on nice photography, particularly the photojournalistic style that Photolux uses. I have seen too many banal pictures featuring contrived poses and questionable composition to put my faith in some well-meaning dilletante.

For her part, Nesrine is rightfully focusing on her dress, the decorations, and of course, family. The Harbs are legion in these parts, so the guest list is rapidly approaching the 130 mark, a scant three dozen of which will be guests from my side. Make no mistake, this will be a Lebanese-Canadian wedding, and I couldn't be happier... have you tasted Lebanese cuisine before?

Although I have not been exploring the uplands of the internet much lately, I have happened across a few tasty morsels for your enjoyment:

I wonder if Bruno, will make a Cameo in the upcoming Borat movie.... God, I hope so.

The Internet is a Series of Tubes and Senator Ted Stevens is douche

I'm gonna go ahead and refer you this soundboard, MMMM-KAY?

The Simpsons:

God to Homer: Don't talk to me about family suffering. I sent my son to Earth once. I don't know what you people did to him, but he has never been the same again.

Camera pans to show Jesus:

Guess who is destined to be spit out of the bottom of the entertainment industry a few short years from now?

You gotta see it coming, no? So, instead of making excuses, the least a mother can do is give her child some discipline.. or at least keep her kid on a tighter leash while she is riding high and milk every moment of stardom for what it is worth.. cuz it won't last... at least not if history teaches us anything.

Ask these folks

Wa Wa Wee Wah!

Get ready for Borat hand pleasure sexy time explosion!

Movie of title Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan 2006 in Autumn!


Trailer Watch!

The Levant in Flames

If Belgium was historically the Cockpit of Europe, then Lebanon must be the cockpit of the Middle East.

While some bitch and moan about how the Canadian Government has not done enough to extricate them from a country that they chose to travel to of their own accord, other resourceful folks are doing whatever it takes to hightail it out of the Lebanon: Greasing palms in Syria

A prayer, not just for peace, but for resolution, and lasting peace.

Bush and Blair: Caught on Tape!



They didn't know they were being recorded at the G-8... so this is how it is!


Bush: What about Kofi Annan? I don't like the sequence of it. His attitude is basically cease-fire and everything else happens.
Blair: I think the thing that is really difficult is you cant stop this unless you get this international presence agreed.
Bush: She's going. I think Condi's going to go pretty soon.
Blair: Well that's all that matters. If you see, it will take some time to get out of there. But at least it gives people ...
Bush: It's a process I agree. I told her your offer too.
Blair: Well it's only or if she's gonna or if she needs the ground prepared as it were. See, if she goes out she's got to succeed as it were, where as I can just go out and talk.
Bush: See the irony is what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over.
Blair: Cause I think this is all part of the same thing. What does he think? He thinks if Lebanon turns out fine, if he gets a solution in Israel and Palestine, Iraq goes in the right way, he's done it. That's what this whole things about. It's the same with Iran.
Bush: I feel like telling Kofi to get on the phone with Assad and make something happen. We're not blaming Israel and we're not blaming the Lebanese government.
Blair: How you enjoying your lunch?
Bush: It's fine. Now, let's go destroy Lebanon to give Israel the land!
Blair: Great idea! I feel like doing something evil today.
Bush: Cuz you're my poodle, Blair
Blair: Yes
Bush: I mean, I own your British Ass
Blair: Right!
Bush: eheheeehhehehehe (Chimpy McHitlerburton does his shaky-shoulder monkey-laugh)

August 20 may be Wedding Day...

but August 18 is Snakes On A Plane Day

I read this comment on a movie geek message board:

..."the movie that Jesus himself would come back for. God, I can't wait until
Aug 18th"

That just says it all, doesn't it?

Grief, Part II


Christie Blatchford gets to the crux of the matter in today's despatch from Afghanistan:

The truth is that civilian Canada, increasingly disengaged from its military over decades of base closing, budget cuts and feel-good peacekeeping missions, was not prepared for either this place or this task.

It has been a very long time indeed since the CF have been involved at a battalion level in such ferocious combat, and the last time it happened, it was not in an instant-messaging, blogging world with TV cameras on the front lines capturing the heat and brutality and terrible power of war.

Grief Can Be An Ugly Thing

I feel sick. I feel sick with sorrow over the death of a young soldier, a promising life cut short; but I am also feeling a bit sickened by what I have seen in the media today.

The repulsive media vultures have descended upon the distraught family and friends of the young Corporal and created an almost pornographic spectacle of their pain. In interview after interview, these well-meaning but clearly grief-stricken people have laid bare the young man's most intimate thoughts and feelings on what he may or may not have felt about what he was doing in Afghanistan. Surely, the private doubts and gripes in the phonecalls and letters home were meant for their consumption alone, and not designed to be unfolded before the eyes of a nation.

We are told that Corporal Boneca hated going out on combat patrol. He was haggard, lean, burnt out and worn out. He was also disillusioned with the mission, aparently. What infantry soldier currently deployed in Afghanistan relishes the prospect of life-threatening danger? What infanteer would not be exhausted from days of combat? Who among the over two thousand CF members there has not unburdened themselves to friends and family, trusting that these private thoughts and fears would be kept in some secret, sacred place? Who among them has not even felt some frustration over what must be a long and tortured process of fighting medieval zealots and bringing stability to a basket-case of a country. This is NEWS?

I turn with dismay to the Globe and Mail and see that a comment thread is hijacked by vicious assholes wielding conspiracy theories, revisionist history, and fifth-rate intellects
It is left to Sheldon Maerz --a PPCLI Captain currently stationed in Kandahar with whom I had the honour to serve while he was posted to the LLSR -- to set the record straight:

Sheldon Maerz from Kandahar City, Canada writes: To post number 39 - Bill, you were bang on until you attacked the memory of Lestor B Pearson, himself a veteran of the Great War, and someone who worked tirelessly in the years following for the betterment of Canada. But, given you are one of the view voices of logic on here, I can forgive your attack on a Great Canadian for the most part (as if it is my place to forgive you, but I trust you will know what I mean).To all you who know next to nothing of our past, Bill is completely correct - we are a nation forged in the fires of war, and when called up by world events, Canadians have fought valiantly on the fields of battle like no others. Perhaps if more Canadians knew something of their own history, there would be fewer spewing the dual false sentiments that we are only a 'peacekeeping nation' and that we are currently fighting someone else's war. Canada has every reason to be here, it is in our own self interest as a nation to assist the Afghan people secure a more stable, more peaceful future. No one here believes Afghanistan will ever resemble Canada or any other western Democracy but we must do our part to attempt to ensure it never again becomes a incubator of hatred of things Western. The biggest falsehood being perpetuated by those against our role here is that the Afghan people don't want us here. The truth is the vast majority of them see us as their best chance in the last thirty years for something other than repression, insecurity and death. Finally, please stop all the parallels to the Soviet Occupation - we are not an Occupation Force and we are not seen as such by anyone except the forces of the Taliban, the foreign fighters, and those who are against our presence for their own self interest (narco warlords,etc). Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but pls stop the shallow name calling and before sounding off, try becoming informed.
Capt Sheldon Maerz

Try not to take it personal, Sheldon.

In our grief, let us consider the facts, and honour this brave young man as he deserves. Tony was an infantryman. He harboured no illusions of his role, notwithstanding what some may now be claiming. From minute-one that you enter the Infantry school, you are taught that your role is to close with and destroy the enemy. Period. Full stop. Yes, he was a reservist --a reservist who had undergone rigourous "work-up training" in the months preceeding his deployment. He had been screened psychologically and physically, he had been counseled, he had been warned and admonished. He was no stranger to Afghanistan, having served there on a previous tour. He went in with both eyes open. To say otherwise is to hold that he was incabable of understanding what he was getting into, to in effect infantilize the man (not boy, but man --He was twenty-one).

In their zealous quest for an "angle", some journalists are pissing all over this young guy's memory. They would paint a false picture of a frightened and disillusioned reservist, unable to cope: What a story, chief! Government sending untrained child-conscripts to a warzone and keeping them there against their will!

For my part, all things being equal and taking Sheldon at his word (who is there ON THE GROUND, mind you) I'm inclined to believe the words of the young man's father:

OTTAWA (CP) - The father of the soldier killed in Afghanistan earlier this week denies his son was ill-prepared for his dangerous tour-of-duty, contradicting claims from some of the soldier's friends. Cpl. Anthony Boneca's father Antonio said his son "loved being in the army" and was aware of the situation he was facing. "In all my conversations with my son, there was never any mention of him not being well enough or fit enough to carry out his military duties," Boneca's father said.
"He said it was difficult to cope with the weather, the sand, and the situation the young children endured (but) he was proud to make a difference in their lives and said he wished these children could live like we do in Canada." Boneca's father disputed reports that suggested his son felt he was poorly prepared for his second stint in Afghanistan.


Shame on the media for this spectacle. Keep them the fuck away from the repatriation. They would dishonour its solemnity it by their presence.

****

I exclude from my scorn one journalist in particular. Christie Blatchford. She really is something else. Like Sheldon Maerz, she is currently on the ground in Afghanistan, "embedded", as they say, and reportign for the G&M. Check out her reporting on their Web site --it is worth a read. She did a little Q&A today from Kandaharand I loved the way she puts this pompous prick in his place:

Liam Dynes, Toronto/Thunder Bay, Ont.: To embed or not to embed reporters in a war zone is no longer the issue - as some previous commenters have put forth. It is a given at this point. My observation comes from what is done by a reporter put in that position. I ask you whether you truly see more value in your method of[reporting on what you see as an embed] than in a clear reporting of the facts at hand. We see cursory mentions of these soldiers in deteriorating physical condition and of questionable morale, but we see no examination of actual situation versus government spin - Minister O'Connor yesterday, for example. You mention in your first [answer today to Mr. Sheppard's question]that "most" of the men are in good spirits. What about the rest? Are those in good spirits regular army? Is there any correlation between morale and reserve status? We hear nothing about Cpl. Boneca's apparent disillusionment with his situation from those who would be there to hear it and see it firsthand, get no reporting of the conditions that led to it (an injured ankle that took more than a week to be treated, patrols extending themselves more than two weeks beyond their scheduled length and capacity for food and water). But we get plenty of literary examination of the pathetic fallacy of the Afghan countryside and its leporidaeic inhabitants (bunnies). Suffice to say, I'm a little perplexed. What is the reality over there?

Christie Blatchford: Thank you for explaining leporidaeic for me. Clearly you're very smart.

Look, I don't pretend to know the morale or state of mind of all our soldiers here, but I've met and spent time and watched in close quarters now hundreds of them, and interviewed dozens at length. You've heard nothing about Cpl. Boneca's apparent disillusionment from me, or anyone else here, because, in my case, I was in the middle of a firefight, and because the story came from The Toronto Star, which does not have a reporter here, but who interviewed the father of the young man's girlfriend.

And what government spin? I spend as little time as I can here at the safe big base, where the spin originates, when it does. Even here, I talk to actual soldiers, not the brass. I'm not writing spin, unless you consider spin to include what I see with my own eyes, from ordinary soldiers.

Thanks, Christie.

Inter Pericula Intrepidi


Today, I learned that the seventeeth Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan is a reservist from the LSSR

I never knew Corporal Boneca-- he joined after I left the unit-- but his family and the Lake Sups are in my thoughts and prayers.

In the piece on the CBC Web site, General Fraser is quoted:"I think the one thing we've got to understand is that he was doing outstanding work out there," Fraser said. "We really do have to admire his professionalism and his heroic efforts to help out people who are less fortunate."

OUTSTANDING was a term I remember hearing alot during the "lean years" when I was a Lake Sup (1993-1999). It's a common exclamation among soldiers. After a 2-day recce patrol, for instance, when the weather had alternated between driving rain and driving snow , and you hadn't caught a wink of sleep laid up in the patrol hide, the usual response the the OC's question "How did the patrol go, gents?" was a chipper "OUTSTANDING, sir!".

You see, Canadian soldiers take great pride in remaining cheerful in adversity. Maybe it is the strain of sang-froid and cool wit inherited through our brit heritage leavened with a bit of Canadian humility, but in the CF, it is always considered important to keep things light-hearted, even when the situation is grim.

Things seem grim in Afghanistan now, but we cannot forget that hundreds of young Canadians have willingly and in some cases eagerly signed up for this duty, knowing full well that this would not be a "peacekeeping" tour, and that some of them would not be coming home alive. Words cannot express the admiration I have for young guys like Corporal Boneca, a "weekend warrior" who was never "required" to go to Afghanistan and willingly put himself in danger for others --reservists volunteer for call-ups, they are not obligated to deploy overseas, as regular force soliders are. He went nonetheless, and he was doing outstanding work, doubtless because because he himself was an outstanding young man.

The motto of the LSSR is Inter Pericula Intrepidi -- Fearless in the midst of Danger. Corporal Boneca's sacrifice is the most profound demonstration of that ideal. God bless him.