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.

Post-Mortem

Becks is done, and Rooney says there is no hard feelings. And about Ronaldo getting all up in his grill? He's willing to bury the hatchet.

Bury the hatchet... in his head

Reason 15,734 that some Grits make me puke:

Ethnic insta-Libs become pawns in sleazy leadership machinations.

From the G&M:
Mr. Karygiannis -- called Jimmy K in political circles -- has just given the go-ahead to all-out organizing in two ridings held by Liberal MPs -- although he won't say which ones.
There are ridings in which Mr. Volpe's campaign won't go all out, Mr. Karygiannis says. Sometimes it's a courtesy if the MP is another leadership candidate or someone who might back the campaign later. Sometimes the effort is just not worth it. There are ridings that have big numbers and signing up a few new ones won't help win new delegates. At a Tim Hortons in south Ottawa, he plays guess-the-nationality as a man walks through the parking lot. He shouts a greeting in Tamil, and discovers the man is from Guyana. Mr. Karygiannis tells him that he visited Guyana after floods there last year, when Canada provided aid, and the man, who identified himself only as Mr. Ali, starts to chat.
"Let me ask you something. Do you think it's time that Canada had an ethnic prime minister?" Mr. Karygiannis asks. Joe Volpe is ethnic, somebody who immigrated to Canada just like us, he tells him. He asks if Mr. Ali wants to join the Liberal Party, and Mr. Ali gives him a telephone number so that an organizer can call. "And I have a lot of family," Mr. Ali says. Later, Mr. Karygiannis remarks on his "killer closing line" -- "Is Canada ready for an ethnic prime minister?" -- and explains how it's done. "It takes 30 seconds to zero in on an individual and figure out if you can sign them up, if you've got something in common with them."
For him, it's where people come from. An MP since 1988, Mr. Karygiannis has assiduously courted ethnic communities, and has visited dozens of countries such as Somalia and Sri Lanka, often after natural disasters -- so often that his critics call him an international ambulance chaser. But he insists he is pressing the views of the communities he represents, helping push on immigration or trade matters. He helps them, and later, on campaigns like this, many help him, he says, even if he has to plead. "Put smoke signals out. Put lots of them out," he tells someone on the phone a few minutes later. "And you might want to tell them if they don't come out, my ass is grass."

Jimmy K, your ass is already grass.

Canada Day Weekend

I can't help but feel that I missed out on Canada Day this year. Somehow, I just wasn't feeling it. Perhaps I have been overdoing it with the running --50 K this week-- and that's why I was been unable to muster any enthusiasm for the holiday weekend.

But I don't think that's the real reason... in my heart of hearts, I believe my glum disposition was brought on by a dire premonition that things were not going to go as planned on Saturday. Sure enough, we all looked on in disbelief as first, Beckham made an early exit, and then Rooney was ushered off the field in ignominy on a questionable red card. After extra time, Lampard's missed penalty kick sealed the English side's fate, and brought an end to the quest to repeat as World Champions forty years later.

Sure it was Canada's birthday... but alot of people were holding a wake on the evening of July 1st.

Ain't you supposed to be separated by now?

Something I alluded to a few months ago. Quebec's "separatiste" movement is a sham. Dig the prophylactic metaphor Steyn uses at the end. And managing to work in Rue Ste Catherine.. brilliant

TRAVESTY

Ratner Surpases Singer BO; Fanboys weep, gnash teeth

Ecce Oilers

Classical photo composition. I'm not trying to be blasphemous... but Smitty was looking a little Christ-like as Whitney embraced him, no? You be the judge:



Murillo


Corregio


Ribera




"The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done"

Jim Matheson, The Edmonton Journal
Published: Tuesday, June 20, 2006 Article tools
Printer friendly

RALEIGH - Former Oilers stickboy Ray Whitney gave Ryan Smyth a hug in the handshake line and wasn't sure what to say.

"Normally when you shake hands after a series is over, you really don't care that much that you just beat them," said Whitney.

"But I looked into Ryan's eyes and I knew what it meant to him after all the years in Edmonton. I said on the broadcast after the game that if we weren't going to win the Cup this year ... being an Edmontonian, I wanted the Oilers to win, for sure. I tried to downplay it as much as I could, but the Oilers have been a part of my life as long as I can remember."

They Died With Their Skates On

Colby Cosh, the sometime NP columnist and native Edmontonian has been blogging up a storm throughout the Oilers' improbably playoff run. Now that it's all over, it's worth revisiting some of his pieces, and reflecting on what might have been.

The Oilers, who played like lions --Christ, they didn't even know they were beaten last night with one minute left to play, they were still hustling-- became, for a brief moment in this country's hockey history, Canada's team. Lord knows I was rootin' for 'em.

Spider-man 3 trailer?

Nope. But a damn impressive fake nonetheless.

And incidentally, does anyone remember THIS? Possibly the coolest teaser trailer that hardly anyone saw. I don't blame the studio for pulling it, but I marvel (no pun intended) and the grotesque coincidence that a major motion picture would use such an iconic image, only to have real life events re-write the script.

Guard against fakes! Equip yourself with A baloney detector kit

It's World Cup 2006, and the old man has gone into seclusion

He needs to concentrate on willing the boys sporting the three lions on to victory...

Other matters:

A Letter from Jesus

The Democratic Party react to Zarq's demise

Guest blogger feature: Charmsley Brayington's Carnival of Bile

Hey folks, ya know, alot of people say it's important to count your blessings.

I'm not one of them. I say it is more important to count other people's misfortunes. Lets face it, sometimes blessings are few and far between in this life. But darn it if schadenfreude don't feel good sometimes. Honestly... when somebody gets what's coming to 'em, how many of us can deny that we don't breath a sigh of relief and think "better them than me"?

So in that spirit, I give you today's list of unfortunates. Let us ponder the vagaries of fate that delivered them such powerful boots to the nutsack:


1. Joey Delissio


2. The Zarkman


3. Ambassador Mike "Why Now?" Wilson

4. Ralanis (or is it Alanyan?): The Canadian celebrity supercouple that never really took off


5. Senior Cabeza


and remember, if you and a friend are out for a walk in the woods and a bear suddenly appears and begins to chase you, you don't have to outrun the bear... you just have to outrun your friend. Sure there will be self-recrimination later, when you are perched in a tree, and Smokey is off somewhere groaning with indigestion while your pal works his way through his plumbing, but guess who'll be eating bacon and eggs for breakfast tomorrow at the ranger station, and who won't be a stool sample at the foot of a douglas fir? That's right sunshine! It's you.

Til next time, keep your chin up!

Shameless Plug for George

This is a picture from last year's wedding in Spain. The dude in the red shirt is my dashing young entrepreneur brother, who has been working on starting up a travel business with some friends. I know those first few months can be pretty challenging, so I figured I'd plug it here... even though I have no illusions about my site traffic. Ever little bit helps, right?

The name of the Company is
Exclusive X-cursions Travel, and they offer great discounts for vacations to Costa Rica. The buzz from some of my friends who have been there is that Costa Rica is on the verge of becoming a trendy tourist hot-spot (a la Thailand or Cancun), so now is definitely the right time to go before prices skyrocket.

Back to Blogulating!



I visited Saint John's for work a couple of weeks ago. What a charming town! Brightly painted houses like these are a common site there. If it wasn't for its isolation and the relatively high cost of getting to the Easternmost tip of Canada, I think it would be a real tourist gem!

Courtesy of my intrepid sister:The Park Avenue Plebe gets the legal pimp hand from Iraq vet

I showed this to a couple of so-called communications professionals, and they didn't get it! Scary:Safire's rules for writers

My blog twin EERIE...


I'm the Juggernaut...

Slow Boat to China

If Monday's season finale to 24 didn't get your juices flowing, go out to the garage, open the hood, hook the cables up to the battery, and clamp those babies on your earlobes, because I think you need a jump! SPOILERS FOLLOW

For starters, we have Jack, in fine form, slipping onto the nerve-gassy sub, which, as you know if you watched last week, is laden with all sorts of ordinance now aimed at major urban targets. Then we have him coaching the sole survivor of the Bierko attack, a wet-behind-the-ears petty officer, in the fine art of terrorist-throat-slitting; then, when the poor slob actually has to do it, the whole thing degenerates into a gruesome neck-knifing, a nauseating wet butcher's block sound punctuating the desperate clumsy jabbing. Somebody give the sound-man an emmy, he just caused me to lose my lunch!

The submarine: it is the space that made Wolfgang Petersen's Das Boot a masterpiece of cinematic claustrophobia, and caused famed nebbish Jared Fogel's dramatic weight loss, paving the way for his evil rise to power as dorkus superiorus. (Jared begat many a nerd immitator, it is true: Napoleon Dynamite, that little prick on the insipid Red Green Show, William Hung, but Jared is the original ) Now the interior of a submarine is once again put to good dramatic use as the location of the final three-way showdown between Bierko, Bauer, and Robocop.

I'll spare you the details, if you haven't seen the episode yet, but suffice it
to say that Jack pulls a variation of an oldie from the Season Two Closer out of
the bag to dispatch one of his nemeses. And all this in the first few minutes of the show!

Also, I seriously hope that Greg Itzin gets an Emmy for his performance this season. Weak and vacillating, and yet malevolent and mean-spirited all at once! His Logan was a truly repugnant character. I actually shuddered with discomfort and loathing during that scene that the First Lady had to pretend to seduce president Chuck to buy Bauer some time. Incidentally, Jean Smart was also fantastic as Martha Logan all season long. Give her a matching Emmy to go with her on-screen partner's!

In my book, Season Five was arguably the best season since Season Two.

Move weekend


On Friday, Joe came up from Toronto for a quick visit before heading up to Algonquin Park on a canoe trip.

On Saturday, we finished boxing everything up.

On Sunday, we picked up the rental truck and moved everything from the apartment to the new house.

Now it is Monday, and we find ourselves sore, dazed, and up to our elbows in "stuff" that needs to be organized and put away... Isn't it amazing how many possessions we seem to accumulate over time without consciously setting out to do so? I always considered myself a minimalist --I'm not one to pick up the latest gadget or status symbol just because everyone else has it; I have been steadfast in avoiding acquiring a cellphone, for example. And yet, the mask has now been pulled away, and I see myself, for the first time, as I truly am. I am a packrat, squirreling useless things away in the eternal hope that one day, I will find a use for them.

The reality is that ya gotta let go sometime, so now the long-deferred "day of the garbage bag" has arrived, and I must go forth and be ruthless with it.

Later

I once read a Mad Magazine parody
where a fast food restaurant offered a mystery value meal that was basically "Here's what we scraped off the grill last night...we're not sure what it is, but we're putting it in a bag and selling it to you".

So, in that spirit, here are some leftovers -- items I had collecting dust for a while. May they tide you over til I get back to blogging:

I must believe that there is hope for the world, and that, in the end righteousness will prevail. But in order for this to happen, we must be re-learn the ability to make moral distinctions between right and wrong.

Basically, what I got from this article is thatCardinal Pell's lack of ignorance is an obstacle to dialogue on Islam. It is precisely because he understands it that as a believing Catholic, he is prepared to point out its shortcomings as it is currently practiced. Why has tolerance (I don't care) become so intermeshed with its dull distant cousin, ignorance (I don't know)? Because if you don't know anything about a reality, it is easy to tolerate it. I don't know, therefore, I don't care.

The opposite of course, is to learn about something, and in learning, come to understand it. But knowledge and understanding is not equivalent to acceptance. In fact, once you know a great deal about something, morality demands that you speak out if it is wrong. Yes, that is "judgmental", and "discriminatory" Once upon a time to discriminate meant To make a clear distinction; distinguish among the options available, or To make sensible decisions; judge wisely.

Like with so many other topics, the Catholic Church offers a refreshingly unambiguous and blunt assessment of its main competitor religion and its adherents: They are in error. the following passage on the ethics of islam is from the article "Mohammed and Mohammedanism" in the Catholic Encyclopaedia Online:

It is hardly necessary here to emphasize the fact that the ethics of Islam are far inferior to those of Judaism and even more inferior to those of the New Testament. Furthermore, we cannot agree with Noldeke when he maintains that, although in many respects the ethics of Islam are not to be compared even with such Christianity as prevailed, and still prevails, in the East, nevertheless, in other points, the new faith — simple, robust, in the vigour of its youth — far surpassed the religion of the Syrian and Egyptian Christians, which was in a stagnating condition, and steadily sinking lower and lower into the depths of barbarism (op. cit., Wollaston, 71, 72). The history and the development, as well as the past and present religious, social, and ethical condition of all the Christian nations and countries, no matter of what sect or school they may be, as compared with these of the various Mohammedan countries, in all ages, is a sufficient refutation of Noldeke's assertion. That in the ethics of Islam there is a great deal to admire and to approve, is beyond dispute; but of originality or superiority, there is not. What is really good in Mohammedan ethics is either commonplace or borrowed from some other religions, whereas what is characteristic is nearly always imperfect or wicked.

*****
Sesame classics

Johnny Cash singing Don't Take Your Ones To Town? Amazing --If this does not bring a tear of nostalgia to your eye, you may not have a soul. One of my fave's is "Born to Add", featuring a leather-jacket wearing muppet doing a suprisingly good cover of one of the Boss's classics. There's alot of us adders on the Jersey shore -- a line good enough to have been in the original.

*****

Uh, is there any place cooler than Montreal? I lived there for a year, and as far as I know, there isn't. But what is the price of cool? It's pretty hefty, it turns out.

An editorial in the Gazette lays it out in stark terms:

We Montrealers have less disposable income than people with comparable jobs in other cities. Even those of us barely managing on an annual salary of less than $30,000 pay higher taxes than we would anywhere else in the country. So much for the tenacious myth that Quebec is kinder to its less well-to-do citizens. For too many years, Montrealers have clung to the fiction that we are better off than Torontonians or Vancouverites because housing is cheaper here. Fine - housing and living costs should be part of any comparison among cities. Taxes are not the whole story, it's true. The beauty of the recent study we're quoting is that it combined three elements - salaries, taxes and cost of living - to determine how well off residents of various cities are. It did the calculations for four family types - couples with and without children and single people earning high and low salaries - in order to take into account such social benefits as our $7-a-day daycare.
Once everything is thrown into the mix, the stark reality is impossible to avoid. Take for instance the Montreal couple with no kids. They earn $6,819 less a year than their counterparts in Vancouver - but pay $4,929 more in taxes! Incredible.

Guess that is what a statist political culture, and a patrician, pseudo-intellectual political elite educated abroad and dedicated to a completely impractical notion of quasi-independance will get you!

Let the hand wringing begin

So the Senators have been felled in five, and already the hounds, smelling blood, have begun their baying. In seeking a martyr to satiate their hunger, I trust they will look past Emery, who stood on his head during these playoffs and who wasn't even supposed to be between the posts-- don't kid yourself pal, one nod from the Dominator and they would have yanked poor Ray. Perhaps their gaze will fall on a more likely victim: the happless Alfie.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating firing the guy, but lets call a spade a shovel, and lay the blame where it belongs: Right between the wobbly ankles that allowed a snot-nosed punk who was on waivers at the beginning of the season to waltz around him like a young Wayne Gretzky, circa 1981, and score shorthanded in OT, for crissakes. I swore I saw Emery weeping.

From 2000 until the lockout, Daniel Alfredsson was racking up 70-80 points during the regular season, and he's a big part of the reason that the Senators have dominated of late. But then comes the playoffs, and a change seems to come over the guy. Alfredsson who plays like a norse hero for 82 games, suddenly becomes a mere mortal. You can see the bewilderment in his nordic blue eyes, as everyone around him seems to kick their game up a notch, and he is left, far too often, looking like he just can't do the same.

Now I know that fans will point to the Captain's goal last night, and his classy post-game interview. But as Luke writes in the Gospel, "of those to whom much is given, much is expected". Occasional moments of brilliance won't cut it. A player of Alfredsson's calibre who has the priviledge of wearing the C in arguably the league's best team should be consistently fantastic. It's the second round of the playoffs, and Ottawa is already out. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Long time no see!

I have so much to tell you...
First of all, I'm worried! No not about the reverse-reconquista going on as immigrants squatting in European churches casually throw up banners proclaiming that Mohammed rocks... nah! That's just par-for-the-course in today's strange world. no I'm worried about something much more troubling because I am a North American navel-gazer who doesn't worry about things that happen in faraway lands. I worry about far more pressing and urgent things like soldiers with guns in Canadian cities and climate change ! After all, I just bought a new home! Will I have to spend money on roof-mounted General-Purpose Machine Guns to keep out rampaging paramilitaries? Not only that, will I have to buy extra insulation for my new home, or will somebody save us from Global Cooling. Al Gore, Maude Barlow, George Clooney, David Suzuki, somebody do something! Imagine the global chaos that global cooling will bring. And Iran has nukes now --or so the Zionistneocons would have us believe. A light dusting of snow over Tehran might be all it takes to send the Ayatollahs over the edge... then next thing ya know, Chuck Heston is raving on a beach in front of the top third of the Statue of Liberty!

*****

So anyway, I've been reading a bit about
Tony Blair and his issue with Gordon Brown, and I gotta tell ya, it reminds me an awful lot of the Chretien/Martin mess that ultimately brought down the most successful political machine in the history of Western Democracies (for now--trust not the fickle Canadian electorate). Taking a page out of the book of another Tony, Blair needs to pole-axe this clown, pronto, for the good of "the family".

******

As promised, here is more on the movie United 93. Rather than write my own review, I figured I would link to one of the best descriptions of a film-viewing experience I have ever read... it speaks more eloquently than anything I might have written.

*****

On Monday, we close the deal on the new house, and I join the ranks of those whose home is owned by a bank. If you don't hear from me for a while, it's probably because I pawned my PC to pay the mortgage.

Hasta la proxima, amigos!

In no particular order:

My refutation of The Gospel of Judas, and every other half baked conspiracy theory that Brown or Baigent (or Lee or Pagels or Brown, et. al) have ever come up with:

Apostolic Succession

*****

I went to see United 93 on Friday. Along the lines of what appears to be the general consensus, here is my five word review: IT IS NOT "TOO SOON"

I'll post more on this experience in a little while.

*****

Borat, the funniest member of the Sacha Baron Cohen triad, is getting his own movie, surely a cause for hand pleasure!

"That singer before me. Who was it? It was very courageous of MTV to start the show with a genuine transvestite, he was very convincing. It was only his hands and his testes satchels that gave it away."

Borat on Madonna, at the 2005 MTV Europe awards

Beware of Chimps

A few weeks ago I was watching the Kratt brothers' show "Be the Creature". If you didn't know, the Kratts are two quasi-interchangeable naturalist brothers who host children's wildlife programming on more than one network.

Anyway, this show is dedicated to developing a certain empathy through mimickry--immitation being the sincerest form of flattery, I suppose. And this time, the subject of their flattery was the chimpanzee, which, we are told, is our nearest living relative in the animal kingdom. If so, much of human behaviour that I don't understand was explained for me during that half hour.

During the first half of the program, the brothers spent some time with some chimps in a sanctuary for orphans, roughousing and playing with the beasts. Then in the second half, they dragged a camera deep into the jungle to observe the creatures living in the wild, and the two clowns "aped" them-- if you pardon the expression -- climbing, scampering, rooting for food, calling out chimp-cries. Then, about 45 minutes into the broadcast, things got nasty... when the chimps went on a hunt, the young viewers were treated to the horrifying spectacle of the brutes leaping from tree to tree, seizing monkeys, and rending them limb from limb. The Kratts somberly informed us that as "omnivores", the chimps ate both meat and veggies. And how! These ones seemed to have a predilection for monkey tartar... or rather tear-tear, as that's what they did as they shared the bits of monkey between them, pulling limbs apart in a grotesque jungle tug-of-war.

This jarring image came rushing back into my head as I read this report of a Canadian being injured and his driver killed in a chimp attack in Sierra Leone. For all their cuteness, these are some dangerous and unpredictable beasts, which can turn nasty at a moment's notice. Is it any wonder we think of them as man's closest cousin?

Something for mean-spirited conspiracy-crazy bloggers to think about

Suppose one reads a story of filthy atrocities in the paper. Then suppose that something turns up suggesting that the story might not be quire true, or not quite so bad as it turned out. Is one's first feeling, "Thank God, even they aren't quite so bad as that," or is it a feeling of disappointment, and even a determination to cling to the first story for the sheer pleasure of thinking your enemise as bad as possible? If it is the second then it is, I am afraid, the first step in a process which, if followed to the end, will make us into devils.

C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Easter break 2006 - at home with the family in Windsor 

The Dome of Les Invalides. Paris, June 2005