My morning smile

Don Martin on the Budget:

My francophone colleagues had a good guffaw when they spotted the title of the budget document. It's "Aspire," as in to strive for greatness. In French it means "suck," as in draining the federal treasury of more than its share of the spending surge.

Aspire: the theme for Budget 2007
Perspire: what the thought of a Spring election makes the opposition do.

Thoughts on 24 at the Mid-season Mark

Did you notice that this year, they don't seem to be spending much time at CTU--Jack has only been there once so far, and Chloe has barely been seen at all. Maybe they started to realize how much mayhem had been taking place over the past 5 seasons --sabotage, explosions, nerve gas, murder, mole after mole, traitor after traitor --in a building that is supposed to be secure!

Now anytime they have needed to shake up a CTU character, they have had to send them out of the building --Milo getting shot up and Morris getting drilled. That means characters stuck in CTU like Bill and Nadia haven't had much to do.. while all the usual mayhem is now happening in the underground White House--an even less secure location, apparently!

What the hell happened with the Philip Bauer plot thread? One minute he's about to off his kid, the next he has disappeared into thin air! Think the writers wrote themselves into a corner, or is this all part of a big plan to turn papa Bauer good? And them swapping out arabs for Russians smells like a cop-out to me! Was this planned from the beginning?...I'll admit, with Hamri-Al Assad dead, I'm having trouble predicting where this is going... is the Russian general now the big bad, and Fayed just a secondary baddie? Sure looks that way...

So many questions...

Now they have Ricky Shroeder joining the cast as a younger, less haggard Bauer Jr... Will he be forced to sacrifice a limb like Chase, the last Bauer-in-training?

Will Jack Bauer be indicted for war crimes at The Hague at some point?

...How did Jack's Chinese-prison-beard make its way onto Logan's face in a mere 10 hours It must have been travelling at an incredible rate of speed across Los Angeles County!

...and will the folks at Almeida is God eventually get over the death of Tony?

I for one, look forward to what the rest of the season has in store.

I understand Henry Winkler is guest starring in an upcoming episode, and that his sub plot will involve waterskis, oddly enough...

Aries Spears

Uncle L, Snoop, DMX, and Young Hov, in two minutes:

embed removed... was screwing up my template

Heritage

Remember those Heritage Minute vignettes on CBC? I don't recall having seen one for a while, but some of the better ones still stand out in my mind: The frenzied pace and almost unbearable tension of the Halifax explosion vignette. That one had a real sense of doom and significance. Or the beautifully shot encounter between Cartier and an aboriginal chief and his retinue, and the resulting miscommunication that led to the name of our country being a word for "village". Then there's the one which closes with Jean Nicolet gazes upon the "Great Water" in wonder, thinking he has found the path to China, as the narrator informs us that he had just discovered Lake Michigan-- a reminder to Canadians that so much of this continent, and not just Canada, was charted and explored by the functionaries and religious men of New France.

Perhaps one of the more poignant ones was the one that takes place on Juno Beach, where a young trumpet player entertains his buddies amidst the wreckage of war while planes roar overhead. It's only at the end of the minute that we discover that the young trumpet player is a broadcaster and local personality familiar to anyone who ever lived in Toronto over the past 60 years or so, the "Mayor of Little Italy" Johnny Lombardi.

It's worth revisiting some of these heritage minutes, just to refresh your Canadian pride, and remind yourself of what a fascinating history we have.


The origin of Winnie the Pooh

Happier Times



Engagement Party: December 2005. Adiba was happy for her daughter that night.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. Kahlil Gibran

Difficult Times

Until it happens, you really don't know how you are going to react when someone close to you passes away suddenly.

My mother-in-law left us last week. She was very young to have died of a heart attack.

I was very sad when it happened. Sad and shocked.

I was shocked when it happened, because I was there.

Although I did my best to help, there was nothing I could do.

The doctor assured me no one could have saved her.

Still, there was the guilt, and the grief, and a feeling of utter helplessness as I watched her family suffer.

But there was also love. And pride.

I've never been prouder of my beloved wife, who was so very strong, so very brave, even as her heart must have ached so deeply.

I was so proud of the way the family came together, too.

Brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts and cousins and friends.

Everyone pitched it.

They may drive you nuts at times, but when the chips are down, your family is who you count on.

We loved her.

We will miss her.

Now, we have to be there for each other.

And love each other the way she would have wanted.

Saudi Muttawa's favourite song?



WHIP IT

Whip it Good!

Must Read Articles:

Allan Gregg on Multiculturalism in Canada

Meanwhile, on the other side of the pond...

Al Andalus is reborn in the land of Cervantes

Blog deliquency

I've been put to shame by the Bearded backpacker lately, so I better get my act together. At least I'm not as bad as PAQ, who doesn't even have a blog yet, the lazy swine!

So in the absence of a PAQ blog, I will post his e-mail on our old high school classmate Kevin Durand:

Hey fellas,
I was watching the tube and notice old Kevin Durand has got a part in Smokin Aces. I still find it kinda weird seeing him in big movies. So I checked him out on imdb, which I hadn't looked at in a while, and he's got four or five things on the go including the lead roll in one movie, and another one with Russel Crowe and Christian Bale.

Just thought it was kind of cool.

Later,
Paq-Man

To which I responded:

Dudes, I know! He has a bald head, right? That frigger has gotten huge -physically, I mean, not so much in the business. Then again, he's doing pretty well if he has 4 or 5 things on the go. I think we can officially say he is a successful working actor, maybe on his way to becoming a very successful character actor, à là JT Walsh

The question is, can he pull a Michael Clark Duncan and graduate to starring roles on the strength of his quirky persona and imposing physique... can you guys imagine watching him accept a Golden Globe for something one day?



Kevin is the gigantic bald guy in the middle at about 1:24 in the trailer.

Incidentally, I meant "Frigger" in the nicest possible way. The phrase "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy" certainly applies to Kevin, who was the first person who bothered to introduce himself and talk to me when I transferred to St. Ignatius High School in my second semester of Grade Nine.

Today's links

Stanford douches go after 24; hilarity ensues

Fascinating, morbid math:The Josephus Problem

Speaking of morbid: Wrestling is a tough business...just ask "Mass Transit"

I'm afraid she doesn't have a leg to stand on

Scumbag of the month: Congo President Denis Sassou-Nguesso

My "piss you off" link of the day

And to close, now that you are amped by the trailer, and enraged by the links, possibly my favourite drinking song lyrics of all time, from Drink and Fight, by the Mudmen:

Chorus:
We're gonna drink and fight and drink and fight and drink and fight some more,
we're gonna drink more stuff than anyone, and go and fight some more,
so grab your friends and neighbors, and punch 'em in the eye,
and raise another glass and sing the Dublin lullaby.

O'Leary was a bastard, I gave his head a crack,
I drank a pint of Guinness, and puked all over his back.
O'Shaunnesy was singin'with Patty in the back,
when Irish eyes are smiling, we'll punch them 'till they're black!
Chorus

O'Leary and O'Connell had been drinking pretty hard,
and had been sitting for a fortnight with Clancy at the bar,
he got so stewed that when he spewed, we swear he must've drowned,
so we kicked his ass, raised a glass, and bought another round!
Chorus

When I went out with O'Leary to Ol' McDonnell's wake,
we drank a lot of stout and ale, and ate a lot of cake.
O'Malley singin' Danny Boy filled my eyes with tears,
so I kicked his nuts right into his guts, and had another beer!
Chorus

Link-a-palooza

I think I tried to get into Queer musicology that one year, but the class was full, so I took Advanced Stairclimbing instead.

What are the top Youtube flicks? Here are the most linked-to ones, according to Technorati.

It turns out that High Fidelity, that really hip relationship movie from a couple years ago featuring a self-absorbed jackass actually starred one. the guy can't hold a candle to Piven anyway.


Don't disturb my circles, I'm building I giant kick-ass claw, you fool!

Season 6 Begins


Just to get in the right frame of mind, I re-watched Season 5 of 24 over the past week, and was amazed at how genuinely well the whole thing hangs together. Note: Any spoilers I'll write about are only spoiler for those who did not see Season 5. I myself have avoided, as much as possible spoilers for Season 6, since I love surprises. Last year, I smelled a rat when they revealed

SPOILER
that President Logan had orchestrated the day's events
END SPOILER

but upon further review, that plot contrivance actually holds up --thanks largely to the stellar writing and Emmy-worthy performance of Greg Itzin.

Notwithstanding the demise of several old stalwarts --something that some fans maintain was done purely for shock value-- I enjoyed Season 5 a great deal overall, and was quite gratified to note some things I had missed the first time I had seen the shows on network TV last year.

SPOILER
In spite of some claims to the contrary from disgruntled Tonyphiles (see Almeida is God, for example Jack's reaction to Tony's death was moving and entirely appropriate. I guess I was too busy picking my jaw up off the floor when the episode first aired to notice that Jack wept over Tony. That being said, he certainly couldn't afford to mourn him for too long --this is 24,after all! The next episode started with a sheet being drawn over the corpse, and Jack lept back into action.

The perfunctory way in which Tony was seen to have been dispatched has led to some speculation that he may not, in fact, be dead, and that we are in for a Bauer-like resurrection in some future season. A bad Tony going head-to-head with Bauer in a future season? That's something the Producers should at least consider --After all, CTU has a well-established tradition of hiring personnel destined to become rogue agents and turncoats --somebody needs to talk to them about HR best practices.
END SPOILER

Now it's 18 months later: Jack Bauer, last seen beaten to a pulp in the bowels of a Chinese cargo ship, is back from an extended stay as a guest of the Chinese. CTU, never the most stable of work environments, has seen some changes: Audrey is no longer "representin'" for the DOD. Milo, the contractor from season 1 is back at CTU --this time as a middle-management type, apparently. Chloe has been promoted --and her ex-hubby Morris, brought in at the end of last season, is still kicking around, apparently; Edgar is still SPOILER dead END SPOILER; and Bill is still in the big chair --for now. We all know that CTU LA directors have a pretty lousy survival rate in that job. Former President Logan is disgraced and in jail and Wayne Palmer is in the White House. There are also a few new faces, some of which, if past seasons are any indication, will not be around for long. This show is ruthless in the way it mows down series regulars, let alone guest stars, which are basically cannon-fodder.

One of the people I don't expect to see around for too long is this guy.

Yup... I predict even Raj Binder himself will be unable to avoid the wrath of Jack Bauer. Here's hoping he doesn't go out like a punk!

Day Six Begins Tonight!

2007: The Future is Upon Us




In the first weekend of the New Year, I saw what will probably end up being one of the best films of 2007. It is called Children of Men and stars the criminally underrated Clive Owen, Julianne Moore, and Michael Caine. It is based on the eponymous P.D. James novel, and it is jaw-dropping, but I hesitate to tell you anything about it simply because I would not want to lessen its visceral impact. A story set in the Great Britain of the near-future, it is everything V for Vendetta could have been, had the one-hit wonderboy Wachowskis gone less preachy, simplistic and heavy-handedly "on the nose".

Director Alfonso Cuaron stuck 28 Days Later, Saving Private Ryan, and The Handmaid's Tale in a blender and sprinkled the concoction with his own visual flair to create a striking and genuinely intelligent Dystopian action-adventure flick. Unlike V for Vendetta, the audience is not spoon-fed political tripe and beaten over the head with "these are the good guys and those are the bad guys" exposition. There are no good guys or bad guys in this movie. Just desperate, despondent people with different agendas. It is at 93% at RT. Enough said. See it.

Speaking of dystopian... What the hell is going on in this country?

Finally, a bit late, but in a similar vein... Can't remember where I found this, but it is the perfect holiday greeting for the times:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all; and a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2007, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures, and without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform, or sexual preference of the wishees. DISCLAIMER: By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

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!