Politique
My "priviledged" position as a someone "in the know" on certain policy trends currently making waves in the Government prevents me from commenting at length on what I have observed in the past couple of weeks.
But that don't mean I can't hop up on my soapbox to talk politics for a minute or two...
First off, the Dingwall thing. I gotta wonder why they can't just cut the guy loose sans severance. From what I gather, this guy is a second-rate Cape Breton political hack, grown fat through his abilities to exploit the patronage culture that pervades Atlantic Canada (yeah, I said it). A thoroughly unremarkable MP and mediocre cabinet minister under the Chretien regime, I doubt he is in tight with the Martinites. Why the kid glove treatment? Paul Martin didn't hesitate to sack several other Chretien appointees when it suited him, including another former bag-man, Alfonso Gagliano. Does this guy know where the bodies are buried?
Next, Pete McKay. I like the guy, don't get me wrong, but I wonder if he made the right decision in staying with the Federal Conservatives instead of jumping to the Nova Scotia Tories. Full disclosure: we lived on the same floor of one of those awful downtown Ottawa apartment buildings a couple of years ago --the kind that Edward Norton referred to as a filing cabinet for young professionals and old ladies in The Fight Club. Back then, when I asked the then-deputy-leader of the PCs what he thought of the Alliance, he scoffed "Regional Protest Party! No vision for the whole country." If he pulled a Jean Charest, he could be premier of Nova Scotia within weeks, if not months. Instead, he will continue to be second-banana in a perenial second-place party that has stalled out in the polls and appears to desperately need a shot in the arm. It's looking bad on the right side of the political spectrum in Canada right now, folks. Don't believe me? Ask THIS GUY. Maybe Elmer's boy, with visions of a Mulroney-style renaissance (OK, maybe not quite Mulroney style!), is taking the long view and biding his time as his party languishes in the political wilderness.
Finally, pizza. What is the deal with Liberals and controversial pizza? First we had Judy Sgro's problems with the pizzaman, and now, it is outrage over a certain Minister's famous $136 pizza. If this trend continues, stay tuned for a kinky panzerotti sex-scandal to complete the italian-food-scandal trifecta...
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Cognitive dissonance
I'm increasingly blown away by human imaginativeness, creativitiy, and our odd ability to brainwash ourselves into holding contradictory viewpoints.
Take for example, these good folks at a recent peace rally in San Fran. You or I could never hope to convince them that the people they are making common cause with view them with disgust and contempt, and some would gladly butcher them like pigs given half a chance. Whereas the state they oppose actually accepts and tolerates their lifestyle choice.
Reminds me a bit of folks who trumpet a woman's right to choose and then lament the demographic timebomb that is ticking away right now, threatening our social safety net. Uh, anyone see the correlation? No babies now means no one to pay mom and pop's hefty medical and pension costs in two or three decades. Immigrants, you say? Ah, yes, lets go abroad and recruit an underclass of young labourers to support our aging baby-boomers and pay increasingly greater amounts into pension plans that will be depleted by the time they are old enough to use them. How very progressive of you!
I'm increasingly blown away by human imaginativeness, creativitiy, and our odd ability to brainwash ourselves into holding contradictory viewpoints.
Take for example, these good folks at a recent peace rally in San Fran. You or I could never hope to convince them that the people they are making common cause with view them with disgust and contempt, and some would gladly butcher them like pigs given half a chance. Whereas the state they oppose actually accepts and tolerates their lifestyle choice.
Reminds me a bit of folks who trumpet a woman's right to choose and then lament the demographic timebomb that is ticking away right now, threatening our social safety net. Uh, anyone see the correlation? No babies now means no one to pay mom and pop's hefty medical and pension costs in two or three decades. Immigrants, you say? Ah, yes, lets go abroad and recruit an underclass of young labourers to support our aging baby-boomers and pay increasingly greater amounts into pension plans that will be depleted by the time they are old enough to use them. How very progressive of you!
Monday, September 19, 2005
Sunday, September 18, 2005
SWEATLODGE
Just spent a week in St-Donat, in the wilds of northern Quebec, on a work-related retreat. It was actually the final course of the four-year management trainee program, designed to help with participants' transitions into permanent positions within the Public Service of Canada.
It was one of those-touchy feely courses, all about getting back to nature and getting in touch with your inner self. Normally, I don't go in for that kind of stuff, but I had an upbeat attitude going into the course, and was determined to get something useful out of it. If nothing else, it offered me a week away from work --just what the doctor ordered.
I knew that the course integrated elements of traditional first nations teachings, and having already taken an aboriginal awareness course three years ago, I was interested to see how the "native" angle was going to play out.
As it turned out, I had a truly amazing experience on the third day of the course, when I participated in a Algonquin sweatlodge, led by a local elder. I made an entry in my journal shortly after the "sweat", which I am transcribing here now:
I went for a run this morning. Needed a bit of a kickstart for the day and it felt good to breath some fresh mountain air into my lungs. After a hearty breakfast, we headed out to the site and split into several groups. While the women left to perform some traditional duties (gathering pine bows for the sacred area, and other stuff like that) the men broke into two units. The first group built the lodge out of birch poles and heavy tarps, the second group, the one I was in, built the sacred fire.
After gathering the "grandfathers", thirty-three football-sized stones, in a pile in the middle of the pit, we began piling the logs with care, building a sort of wood wall around them. I reflected on the fact that these stones represented our ancestors, and that their presence inside the lodge would symbolize the idea that our ancestors were in there with us. Denis, the Mohawk warrior and drug addict-turned spiritual guide, spoke to us as we worked, providing us with many fascinating teachings. I really enjoyed the morning we spent together, even though I was thinking about the coming ordeal the whole time.
After lunch, we made our final preparations for the sweat. My own preparation had begun two days before, as I had been thinking and writing alot leading up to moment I would enter the lodge's embrace. Having already gone through a sweatlodge ceremony three years before, I knew what to expect. Most of the others didn't, and it showed in the worried expressions on their faces. We stripped down to bathing suits and bandanas, which all men are required to wear for the ceremony, and walked down to the lodge, towels in hand. After purification with burnt sage, I made an offering of tobacco to the fire next to the lodge that we had built that morning, and that was now a roaring blaze heating the stones until they glowed. I also consigned a roll of birch bark upon which I had written some personal things to the flames. Then, I said a short prayer, crossed myself, and crawled through the small opening.
The heat of that small space is almost unbearable when you first enter. I greeted the ancestors ("Mushums") and crawled over my colleagues to get to my spot near the pit in the centre. A sweatlodge is not very roomy --maybe five feet high and 10 feet in diameter. I was one of the last to come in, and the enclosed space was packed with over twenty people, and pitch black.
To my dismay, I realized that I would be sitting nearest to the stones, so I wrapped my towel around my bare legs and tried to stay as far from the pit in the middle of the lodge as I could. Dominque, the Algonquin elder, spoke a few words, some of which none of us understood because they were in Algonquin, and handed us his medecine pouch, and a couple of other sacred objects. I myself held my own medicine pouch clenched tightly in my left hand. Then, one by one, ten stones, glowing red-hot, were handled into the lodge using a metal shovel and placed in the centre of the pit. With each stone, the temperature rose, and already, some people were gasping and chuckling nervously as we greeted them with the cry of "Kwe Mushum!" or "hello Grandfather!". Then, the flap of the door came down, and the dark, hot space was plunged into darkness.
Almost immediately, two individuals spoke up, asking to be let out of the lodge. Once the shaken participants had made their hasty exit, we settled in for a good sweat. I was actually quite surprised, but at least the sudden departures had made a bit of room for the rst of us, and I took the opportunity to slink to the back of the lodge, away from the glow of the mushums, where I rested my back against the warm canvas of the already-stuffy tent.
The first of the four "doors" was hard on me --a sweat is broken into four doors of varying lengths, between which the lodge is opened, aired out, and more stones are brought in. I felt, to my suprise, a fair bit of anxiety. It took me several minutes to get control of my breathing. From the sounds around me, I could tell, however, that other participants were going through the same struggle I was, and that gave me comfort. Gradually, I felt my chest begin to loosen as I grew accustomed to the suffocating heat. Dominique's words were a faint drone to me, but somehow, I felt like I was taking them in, and taking comfort in them, too. I gripped my medicine pouch ever more tightly as the sweat poured off my body. Water was poured onto the rocks, making them hiss, and causing a great cloud of steam that made the lodge even hotter. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, Dominique cried "DOOR!" and light flooded into the dark space as an opening appeared in the side of the lodge and some of the heat escaped. This was the end of the first door.
Then, the exodus. Alot of my colleagues had been shocked by the heat, and disconcerted by the darkness. I'm sure that more than a couple of them also had a bit of difficulty in dealing with what was happening inside that lodge and inside of them--something indescribeable that you could say was of a spiritual nature. Unlike my first lodge three years ago, those who elected to tough it out for the next door stayed inside the lodge... no smokebreaks on this job!
The second door, which brought ten more grandfathers into the lodge to join the ten that were already keeping us company, was also a terrible ordeal, and I realized at some point that I was weeping. I could also feel something raw inside me being scraped away, scoured away in that heat. I guess I was taking care of some stuff that needed to be taken care of... and that realization made me want to tough it out all the more. Dominique began chanting, and soon, many of us had joined him, singing in a language we didn't know, but feeling the meaning all the same. Others were moaning and a few cried out in anguish, probably suffering more, emotionally, if not physically and mentally, than they ever had before. Dominique spoke to us of his life, his beliefs, and the teachings of his fathers. He used a spruce branch to douse us with water, then he doused the grandfathers, and the dreaded steam engulfed us again. Then, just as before, at the moment I was ready to pack it in, the door flung open, and light flooded in.
By the beginning of the third door, when eight more mushums made their presence known, I felt as weak as a kitten. I drank a cedar potion between doors, and didn't mind the taste at all. If the natives say this stuff is good for ya, well... I needed all the help I could get! I was in pain, inside and out, but this was a good kind of pain, a cleansing pain. I though about the suffering of Jesus Christ, and the legion of martyrs who suffered in his name. I tried to imagine their torment, and all things considered, supposed that mine simply wasn't that bad after all. In the healing heat, I think I may just have seen my ancestors. For a minute, I felt like my grandfathers and other people I care about were in there with me, and the thought brought me comfort. I also took solace in the fact that I was with my colleagues, and that we had the support of people outside the lodge, who responded to our cries of "tabac!" by echoing the shout. Tabac was something we had been told to shout when we felt like we could not hold on anymore, and surprisingly enough, hearing the word shouted back to us outside the lodge was a real tonic.
The final five stones joined us in the lodge, which, after several more departures, was starting to get positively roomy. There were only about a dozen of us left when the fourth door began. I had annointed myself with bear grease, which felt great, between the third and fourth door, and I found that this stage, while difficult, was not nearly as hard as the first three had been. As I held hands with the persons to the left and right of me, I started to feel peaceful and even a bit euphoric. Sweat was now bubbling out of my skin and pouring to the floor of pine branches in audible drips as I listened to Dominique's teachings, and as he painted a vivid image of a vision, I saw it all.
To everyone's surprise, at the end of the fourth door, Dominique announced a "warrior" door, and as the flap came back down, he doused us and the thirty-three grandfathers with cedar water,which opened up my lungs and felt wonderful. I was now leaning unselfconsciously on Abder, who was sitting to my right, for support. We both grinned as the door came up a final time, and laughed with relief, bringing the ordeal to a satisfying conclusion. I had squeezed my medecine bag so tight that sweat had soaked it through, and was now pouring through the bottom. The palm of my hand was stained brown from the leather.
As I crawled out of the lodge, I embraced the elder and thanked him for being with us in the lodge. My feeling of euphoria was dampened a bit, when I saw the faces of some of my colleagues who had fled before the end, and now regretted their hasty decision. But, as we were told, we had all been there together, and those outside had allowed those within to stay there by their support and their presence, which had given us strength. I found out that at the very end, they had been physically embracing the outside of the lodge to give us their energy. Truly, a generous act.
After sitting by the sacred fire for a few minutes in quiet contemplation, I went down to the lake to bathe in the cool waters. My skin felt like that of a newborn. Water never felt so good to me. I was reinvigorated, revitalized, and content.
On the way back past the lodge, I thanked Dennis, who had tended the sacred fire throughout the afternoon, for all of his teachings. He smiled at me. I was calm, content, and serene. What an incredible gift we had shared.
Later, we discussed the length of the sweatlodge. No one was sure. According to one of my colleagues who had stayed outside and had their watch with them, the whole thing lasted three hours. I wouldn't have been surprised if someone had told me it had lasted 30 minutes --or 13 hours for that matter. Inside the lodge, time did not seem to exist. It was only when we emerged, like newborns out of mother earth's womb, that the strange wonderful dream ended, and we went back to being what we were: Ottawa bureaucrats on a retreat in the wilds of Northern Quebec
Just spent a week in St-Donat, in the wilds of northern Quebec, on a work-related retreat. It was actually the final course of the four-year management trainee program, designed to help with participants' transitions into permanent positions within the Public Service of Canada.
It was one of those-touchy feely courses, all about getting back to nature and getting in touch with your inner self. Normally, I don't go in for that kind of stuff, but I had an upbeat attitude going into the course, and was determined to get something useful out of it. If nothing else, it offered me a week away from work --just what the doctor ordered.
I knew that the course integrated elements of traditional first nations teachings, and having already taken an aboriginal awareness course three years ago, I was interested to see how the "native" angle was going to play out.
As it turned out, I had a truly amazing experience on the third day of the course, when I participated in a Algonquin sweatlodge, led by a local elder. I made an entry in my journal shortly after the "sweat", which I am transcribing here now:
I went for a run this morning. Needed a bit of a kickstart for the day and it felt good to breath some fresh mountain air into my lungs. After a hearty breakfast, we headed out to the site and split into several groups. While the women left to perform some traditional duties (gathering pine bows for the sacred area, and other stuff like that) the men broke into two units. The first group built the lodge out of birch poles and heavy tarps, the second group, the one I was in, built the sacred fire.
After gathering the "grandfathers", thirty-three football-sized stones, in a pile in the middle of the pit, we began piling the logs with care, building a sort of wood wall around them. I reflected on the fact that these stones represented our ancestors, and that their presence inside the lodge would symbolize the idea that our ancestors were in there with us. Denis, the Mohawk warrior and drug addict-turned spiritual guide, spoke to us as we worked, providing us with many fascinating teachings. I really enjoyed the morning we spent together, even though I was thinking about the coming ordeal the whole time.
After lunch, we made our final preparations for the sweat. My own preparation had begun two days before, as I had been thinking and writing alot leading up to moment I would enter the lodge's embrace. Having already gone through a sweatlodge ceremony three years before, I knew what to expect. Most of the others didn't, and it showed in the worried expressions on their faces. We stripped down to bathing suits and bandanas, which all men are required to wear for the ceremony, and walked down to the lodge, towels in hand. After purification with burnt sage, I made an offering of tobacco to the fire next to the lodge that we had built that morning, and that was now a roaring blaze heating the stones until they glowed. I also consigned a roll of birch bark upon which I had written some personal things to the flames. Then, I said a short prayer, crossed myself, and crawled through the small opening.
The heat of that small space is almost unbearable when you first enter. I greeted the ancestors ("Mushums") and crawled over my colleagues to get to my spot near the pit in the centre. A sweatlodge is not very roomy --maybe five feet high and 10 feet in diameter. I was one of the last to come in, and the enclosed space was packed with over twenty people, and pitch black.
To my dismay, I realized that I would be sitting nearest to the stones, so I wrapped my towel around my bare legs and tried to stay as far from the pit in the middle of the lodge as I could. Dominque, the Algonquin elder, spoke a few words, some of which none of us understood because they were in Algonquin, and handed us his medecine pouch, and a couple of other sacred objects. I myself held my own medicine pouch clenched tightly in my left hand. Then, one by one, ten stones, glowing red-hot, were handled into the lodge using a metal shovel and placed in the centre of the pit. With each stone, the temperature rose, and already, some people were gasping and chuckling nervously as we greeted them with the cry of "Kwe Mushum!" or "hello Grandfather!". Then, the flap of the door came down, and the dark, hot space was plunged into darkness.
Almost immediately, two individuals spoke up, asking to be let out of the lodge. Once the shaken participants had made their hasty exit, we settled in for a good sweat. I was actually quite surprised, but at least the sudden departures had made a bit of room for the rst of us, and I took the opportunity to slink to the back of the lodge, away from the glow of the mushums, where I rested my back against the warm canvas of the already-stuffy tent.
The first of the four "doors" was hard on me --a sweat is broken into four doors of varying lengths, between which the lodge is opened, aired out, and more stones are brought in. I felt, to my suprise, a fair bit of anxiety. It took me several minutes to get control of my breathing. From the sounds around me, I could tell, however, that other participants were going through the same struggle I was, and that gave me comfort. Gradually, I felt my chest begin to loosen as I grew accustomed to the suffocating heat. Dominique's words were a faint drone to me, but somehow, I felt like I was taking them in, and taking comfort in them, too. I gripped my medicine pouch ever more tightly as the sweat poured off my body. Water was poured onto the rocks, making them hiss, and causing a great cloud of steam that made the lodge even hotter. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, Dominique cried "DOOR!" and light flooded into the dark space as an opening appeared in the side of the lodge and some of the heat escaped. This was the end of the first door.
Then, the exodus. Alot of my colleagues had been shocked by the heat, and disconcerted by the darkness. I'm sure that more than a couple of them also had a bit of difficulty in dealing with what was happening inside that lodge and inside of them--something indescribeable that you could say was of a spiritual nature. Unlike my first lodge three years ago, those who elected to tough it out for the next door stayed inside the lodge... no smokebreaks on this job!
The second door, which brought ten more grandfathers into the lodge to join the ten that were already keeping us company, was also a terrible ordeal, and I realized at some point that I was weeping. I could also feel something raw inside me being scraped away, scoured away in that heat. I guess I was taking care of some stuff that needed to be taken care of... and that realization made me want to tough it out all the more. Dominique began chanting, and soon, many of us had joined him, singing in a language we didn't know, but feeling the meaning all the same. Others were moaning and a few cried out in anguish, probably suffering more, emotionally, if not physically and mentally, than they ever had before. Dominique spoke to us of his life, his beliefs, and the teachings of his fathers. He used a spruce branch to douse us with water, then he doused the grandfathers, and the dreaded steam engulfed us again. Then, just as before, at the moment I was ready to pack it in, the door flung open, and light flooded in.
By the beginning of the third door, when eight more mushums made their presence known, I felt as weak as a kitten. I drank a cedar potion between doors, and didn't mind the taste at all. If the natives say this stuff is good for ya, well... I needed all the help I could get! I was in pain, inside and out, but this was a good kind of pain, a cleansing pain. I though about the suffering of Jesus Christ, and the legion of martyrs who suffered in his name. I tried to imagine their torment, and all things considered, supposed that mine simply wasn't that bad after all. In the healing heat, I think I may just have seen my ancestors. For a minute, I felt like my grandfathers and other people I care about were in there with me, and the thought brought me comfort. I also took solace in the fact that I was with my colleagues, and that we had the support of people outside the lodge, who responded to our cries of "tabac!" by echoing the shout. Tabac was something we had been told to shout when we felt like we could not hold on anymore, and surprisingly enough, hearing the word shouted back to us outside the lodge was a real tonic.
The final five stones joined us in the lodge, which, after several more departures, was starting to get positively roomy. There were only about a dozen of us left when the fourth door began. I had annointed myself with bear grease, which felt great, between the third and fourth door, and I found that this stage, while difficult, was not nearly as hard as the first three had been. As I held hands with the persons to the left and right of me, I started to feel peaceful and even a bit euphoric. Sweat was now bubbling out of my skin and pouring to the floor of pine branches in audible drips as I listened to Dominique's teachings, and as he painted a vivid image of a vision, I saw it all.
To everyone's surprise, at the end of the fourth door, Dominique announced a "warrior" door, and as the flap came back down, he doused us and the thirty-three grandfathers with cedar water,which opened up my lungs and felt wonderful. I was now leaning unselfconsciously on Abder, who was sitting to my right, for support. We both grinned as the door came up a final time, and laughed with relief, bringing the ordeal to a satisfying conclusion. I had squeezed my medecine bag so tight that sweat had soaked it through, and was now pouring through the bottom. The palm of my hand was stained brown from the leather.
As I crawled out of the lodge, I embraced the elder and thanked him for being with us in the lodge. My feeling of euphoria was dampened a bit, when I saw the faces of some of my colleagues who had fled before the end, and now regretted their hasty decision. But, as we were told, we had all been there together, and those outside had allowed those within to stay there by their support and their presence, which had given us strength. I found out that at the very end, they had been physically embracing the outside of the lodge to give us their energy. Truly, a generous act.
After sitting by the sacred fire for a few minutes in quiet contemplation, I went down to the lake to bathe in the cool waters. My skin felt like that of a newborn. Water never felt so good to me. I was reinvigorated, revitalized, and content.
On the way back past the lodge, I thanked Dennis, who had tended the sacred fire throughout the afternoon, for all of his teachings. He smiled at me. I was calm, content, and serene. What an incredible gift we had shared.
Later, we discussed the length of the sweatlodge. No one was sure. According to one of my colleagues who had stayed outside and had their watch with them, the whole thing lasted three hours. I wouldn't have been surprised if someone had told me it had lasted 30 minutes --or 13 hours for that matter. Inside the lodge, time did not seem to exist. It was only when we emerged, like newborns out of mother earth's womb, that the strange wonderful dream ended, and we went back to being what we were: Ottawa bureaucrats on a retreat in the wilds of Northern Quebec
Monday, August 29, 2005
Ottawa. August 28, 2005 --In an epic battle destined for the ages, FRESHMAKERS battled back to claim a 15-14 victory, in the Thursday night Tier 5 consolation semi-final. This "battle for the bottom" match cemented the team's status as a force to be reckoned with among the fitness-challenged elite of Ottawa's Ultimate community. 
Miscellaneous Musings
Does anyone miss "regular" CBC programming? As far as I'm concerned, the lockout can continue... at least until Ron and Don are due back in the Coach's Corner and I can no longer find anything online to fill the void that Rex Murphy's "Point of View" has left.
*******
Normally, all the best content at Steyn Online comes from Mark himself, but this week there is a particularly thought provoking, if somewhat vitriolic letter entitled THE FICTION OF THE 'PALESTINIAN' IDENTITY from some Aussie guy, I think, in the Mark's Mailbox section of the site. Check it out, and consider the critical role of the media and media-savvy agitators in framing the issues of our day.
*****
Sometimes it is fascinating to watch someone's worldview completely transform before your eyes. Precious few witnessed the online transmogrification of some of the most dogged pro-WOT bloggers, who went from amiable mountain bike enthusiasts writing about their favourite trails, to online activists and campaigning with the fervour of evangelists. But the change is there, laid bare for all to see. Recorded in their sites' archives. Go to your favourite "right-wing wacko" sites and compare the postings from August 2001 to those from September and October 2001, if ya don't believe me.
Matt Welch quotes Orwell, and his issues with the Pacifists of his day:
Pacifism is a psychological curiosity rather than a political movement. Some of
the extremer pacifists, starting out with a complete renunciation of violence,
have ended by warmly championing Hitler and even toying with antisemitism. This
is interesting, but it is not important. 'Pure' pacifism, which is a by-product
of naval power, can only appeal to people in very sheltered positions. Moreover,
being negative and irresponsible, it does not inspire much devotion.
On the relationship between intellectuals and patriotism:
England is perhaps the only great country whose intellectuals are ashamed of
their own nationality. In left-wing circles it is always felt that there is
something slightly disgraceful in being an Englishman and that it is a duty to
snigger at every English institution, from horse racing to suet puddings. It is
a strange fact, but it is unquestionably true that almost any English
intellectual would feel more ashamed of standing to attention during 'God save
the King' than of stealing from a poor box. All through the critical years many
left-wingers were chipping away at English morale, trying to spread an outlook
that was sometimes squashily pacifist, sometimes violently pro-Russian, but
always anti-British. ... If you were an intellectual you sniggered at the Union
Jack and regarded physical courage as barbarous. ... Patriotism and intelligence
will have to come together again. It is the fact that we are fighting a war, and
a very peculiar kind of war, that may make this possible.
Parallels can be drawn... I'm just saying....
Does anyone miss "regular" CBC programming? As far as I'm concerned, the lockout can continue... at least until Ron and Don are due back in the Coach's Corner and I can no longer find anything online to fill the void that Rex Murphy's "Point of View" has left.
*******
Normally, all the best content at Steyn Online comes from Mark himself, but this week there is a particularly thought provoking, if somewhat vitriolic letter entitled THE FICTION OF THE 'PALESTINIAN' IDENTITY from some Aussie guy, I think, in the Mark's Mailbox section of the site. Check it out, and consider the critical role of the media and media-savvy agitators in framing the issues of our day.
*****
Sometimes it is fascinating to watch someone's worldview completely transform before your eyes. Precious few witnessed the online transmogrification of some of the most dogged pro-WOT bloggers, who went from amiable mountain bike enthusiasts writing about their favourite trails, to online activists and campaigning with the fervour of evangelists. But the change is there, laid bare for all to see. Recorded in their sites' archives. Go to your favourite "right-wing wacko" sites and compare the postings from August 2001 to those from September and October 2001, if ya don't believe me.
Matt Welch quotes Orwell, and his issues with the Pacifists of his day:
Pacifism is a psychological curiosity rather than a political movement. Some of
the extremer pacifists, starting out with a complete renunciation of violence,
have ended by warmly championing Hitler and even toying with antisemitism. This
is interesting, but it is not important. 'Pure' pacifism, which is a by-product
of naval power, can only appeal to people in very sheltered positions. Moreover,
being negative and irresponsible, it does not inspire much devotion.
On the relationship between intellectuals and patriotism:
England is perhaps the only great country whose intellectuals are ashamed of
their own nationality. In left-wing circles it is always felt that there is
something slightly disgraceful in being an Englishman and that it is a duty to
snigger at every English institution, from horse racing to suet puddings. It is
a strange fact, but it is unquestionably true that almost any English
intellectual would feel more ashamed of standing to attention during 'God save
the King' than of stealing from a poor box. All through the critical years many
left-wingers were chipping away at English morale, trying to spread an outlook
that was sometimes squashily pacifist, sometimes violently pro-Russian, but
always anti-British. ... If you were an intellectual you sniggered at the Union
Jack and regarded physical courage as barbarous. ... Patriotism and intelligence
will have to come together again. It is the fact that we are fighting a war, and
a very peculiar kind of war, that may make this possible.
Parallels can be drawn... I'm just saying....
Saturday, August 27, 2005
I'm trying to wrap my head around the whole Iraq thing...
I'm willing to accept the necessity of bringing the enterprise to a successful conclusion on the U.S.'s terms, for all the good that will do --as a Canadian, my support or opposition means exactly jack squat to American pollsters and politicos. But I can't help but notice the glaring inability of the Bush administration to provide a solid rationale that will connect with the American public for their ongoing presence there.
The whole "honouring the sacrifice of those who have already fallen" set of talking points does not seem to be getting across as a justification for continuing the struggle, notwithstanding the protestations of die-hard hawks. Ever since David Frum, an Iraq war supporter if ever there was one, posted an article critical of the administration's current approach to selling (and conducting)the war on August 23, 2005, his online diary has been deluged with readers who share his frustration. The current concern of the neo-cons is that Bush is losing the Public Opinion war in the U.S. to Cindy Sheehan, Michael Moore and their ilk through simple inertia. This is a fight they cannot afford to lose.
Articles like this can provoke an angry reaction from jingoistic chest-thumpers, insensed that some of the right-wing intelligensia appear to be flagging in their support of Bush, but they should also provoke some soul-searching and reflection.
Why is the Bush White House struggling to get a positive message across? Some may think that is because there is nothing positive to report on, but a quick survey of several Warblogs and soldierblogs written by those on the ground in that country paint a compelling picture of some very significant achievements amidst the the litany of setbacks and deterioration that the media has been deluging us with.
Still, there is no denying that we have a mixed bag of good news/bad news/very bad news coming out of Mesopotamia. To me, the increasingly prominent role of Iran in the sectarian violence is particularly troubling. Also, there does not appear to be a long term plan and set of clearly defined objectives --at least none that I can see --just a rather arbitrary timetable for achieving democratic government in what currently appears to be a very unstable country. It remains the task of Bush, Condi, and company to convince the U.S. public to stay the course in a place where everything seems to be falling apart.
As someone in the communication biz, I watch with interest, waiting to see whether or not the Bush administration can come up with a rationale and "storyline" that will convice Americans that what they are doing in Iraq is worth doing, and that the sacrifice of American blood and treasure will pay dividends in the long run.
What happens next in Iraq will set the tone for the prosecution of the War on Terror --or whatever they are currently calling the struggle against radical islamism-- for years to come. Everything hangs in the balance...
I'm willing to accept the necessity of bringing the enterprise to a successful conclusion on the U.S.'s terms, for all the good that will do --as a Canadian, my support or opposition means exactly jack squat to American pollsters and politicos. But I can't help but notice the glaring inability of the Bush administration to provide a solid rationale that will connect with the American public for their ongoing presence there.
The whole "honouring the sacrifice of those who have already fallen" set of talking points does not seem to be getting across as a justification for continuing the struggle, notwithstanding the protestations of die-hard hawks. Ever since David Frum, an Iraq war supporter if ever there was one, posted an article critical of the administration's current approach to selling (and conducting)the war on August 23, 2005, his online diary has been deluged with readers who share his frustration. The current concern of the neo-cons is that Bush is losing the Public Opinion war in the U.S. to Cindy Sheehan, Michael Moore and their ilk through simple inertia. This is a fight they cannot afford to lose.
Articles like this can provoke an angry reaction from jingoistic chest-thumpers, insensed that some of the right-wing intelligensia appear to be flagging in their support of Bush, but they should also provoke some soul-searching and reflection.
Why is the Bush White House struggling to get a positive message across? Some may think that is because there is nothing positive to report on, but a quick survey of several Warblogs and soldierblogs written by those on the ground in that country paint a compelling picture of some very significant achievements amidst the the litany of setbacks and deterioration that the media has been deluging us with.
Still, there is no denying that we have a mixed bag of good news/bad news/very bad news coming out of Mesopotamia. To me, the increasingly prominent role of Iran in the sectarian violence is particularly troubling. Also, there does not appear to be a long term plan and set of clearly defined objectives --at least none that I can see --just a rather arbitrary timetable for achieving democratic government in what currently appears to be a very unstable country. It remains the task of Bush, Condi, and company to convince the U.S. public to stay the course in a place where everything seems to be falling apart.
As someone in the communication biz, I watch with interest, waiting to see whether or not the Bush administration can come up with a rationale and "storyline" that will convice Americans that what they are doing in Iraq is worth doing, and that the sacrifice of American blood and treasure will pay dividends in the long run.
What happens next in Iraq will set the tone for the prosecution of the War on Terror --or whatever they are currently calling the struggle against radical islamism-- for years to come. Everything hangs in the balance...
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
He comes from Atlantic Canada...
He is a person of colour...
He works for the CBC...
His contributions to Canadian culture are too numerous to mention...
Ladies and gentlemen of the PMO, for your consideration, Newfoundland's own Raj Binder for Governor General in 2009!
He is a person of colour...
He works for the CBC...
His contributions to Canadian culture are too numerous to mention...
Ladies and gentlemen of the PMO, for your consideration, Newfoundland's own Raj Binder for Governor General in 2009!
Monday, August 22, 2005
Ever since the CBC went on strike, I have been surfing the web to get info on news and current events...
America needs to know!
concerning the Supreme Court:
The Supreme Court is a lifetime appointment, and America needs to know whether
___JOHN ROBERTS___ supports the GOP's secret plan of a Rush Limbaugh Jesus army
of unwanted, unquestioning fetus zombies programmed to urinate on the Korans of
Guantanamo detainees.
New Spokesperson for the Taliban urges immediate withdrawal of U.S. troops from Afghanistan:
In her first statement since leaving Crawford, Cindy Sheehan speaks at a "Support Our Troops" rally:
Allah ordered us ... to purify Muslim land of all
non-believers,... We are surprised this question is coming from Americans....
American history does not distinguish between civilians and military, and not
even women and children. They are the ones who used the bombs against
Nagasaki.... America does not have a religion that will prevent it from
destroying all people.... We believe that the biggest thieves in the world and
the terrorists are the Americans... We are sure of Allah's victory and our
victory against the Americans and the Jews as promised by the prophet peace be
upon him....We predict a black day for America and the end of the United States
as United States.
Oops... wrong quote. That was noted philanthropist Osama Bin Laden, going off topic, I believe, on one of those taped rants sent to Al Jazeera following the capture of anAl Qaeda operative in the mountains of Waziristan. By the way, I think the enemy combatant was subsequently sent to Guantanamo, where he was urinated upon and disposed off down a toilet during one of the Koran shortages which has plagued the facility.
Here is what the latest standard bearer for the peace movement actually said on Hardball with Chris Matthews:
MATTHEWS: All right. If your son had been killed in Afghanistan, would you have a different feeling?
SHEEHAN: I don't think so, Chris, because I believe that Afghanistan is almost the same thing. We're fighting terrorism. Or terrorists, we're saying. But they're not contained in a country. This is an ideology and not an enemy. And we know that Iraq, Iraq had no terrorism. They were no threat to the United States of America.
MATTHEWS: But Afghanistan was harboring, the Taliban was harboring al-Qaida which is the group that attacked us on 9/11.
SHEEHAN: Well then we should have gone after al-Qaida and maybe not after the country of Afghanistan.
MATTHEWS: But that's where they were being harbored. That's where they were headquartered. Shouldn't we go after their headquarters? Doesn't that make sense?
SHEEHAN: Well, but there were a lot of innocent people killed in that invasion, too. ... But I'm seeing that we're sending our ground troops in to invade countries where the entire country wasn't the problem. Especially Iraq. Iraq was no problem. And why do we send in invading armies to march into Afghanistan when we're looking for a select group of people in that country?
So I believe that our troops should be brought home out of both places where we're obviously not having any success in Afghanistan. Osama bin Laden is still on the loose and that's who they told us was responsible for 9/11.
Yeah... like Homer Simpson told Bart: If something is hard, it isn't worth doing.... now lets all have a big ol' swig of moonbat juice.
America needs to know!
concerning the Supreme Court:
The Supreme Court is a lifetime appointment, and America needs to know whether
___JOHN ROBERTS___ supports the GOP's secret plan of a Rush Limbaugh Jesus army
of unwanted, unquestioning fetus zombies programmed to urinate on the Korans of
Guantanamo detainees.
New Spokesperson for the Taliban urges immediate withdrawal of U.S. troops from Afghanistan:
In her first statement since leaving Crawford, Cindy Sheehan speaks at a "Support Our Troops" rally:
Allah ordered us ... to purify Muslim land of all
non-believers,... We are surprised this question is coming from Americans....
American history does not distinguish between civilians and military, and not
even women and children. They are the ones who used the bombs against
Nagasaki.... America does not have a religion that will prevent it from
destroying all people.... We believe that the biggest thieves in the world and
the terrorists are the Americans... We are sure of Allah's victory and our
victory against the Americans and the Jews as promised by the prophet peace be
upon him....We predict a black day for America and the end of the United States
as United States.
Oops... wrong quote. That was noted philanthropist Osama Bin Laden, going off topic, I believe, on one of those taped rants sent to Al Jazeera following the capture of anAl Qaeda operative in the mountains of Waziristan. By the way, I think the enemy combatant was subsequently sent to Guantanamo, where he was urinated upon and disposed off down a toilet during one of the Koran shortages which has plagued the facility.
Here is what the latest standard bearer for the peace movement actually said on Hardball with Chris Matthews:
MATTHEWS: All right. If your son had been killed in Afghanistan, would you have a different feeling?
SHEEHAN: I don't think so, Chris, because I believe that Afghanistan is almost the same thing. We're fighting terrorism. Or terrorists, we're saying. But they're not contained in a country. This is an ideology and not an enemy. And we know that Iraq, Iraq had no terrorism. They were no threat to the United States of America.
MATTHEWS: But Afghanistan was harboring, the Taliban was harboring al-Qaida which is the group that attacked us on 9/11.
SHEEHAN: Well then we should have gone after al-Qaida and maybe not after the country of Afghanistan.
MATTHEWS: But that's where they were being harbored. That's where they were headquartered. Shouldn't we go after their headquarters? Doesn't that make sense?
SHEEHAN: Well, but there were a lot of innocent people killed in that invasion, too. ... But I'm seeing that we're sending our ground troops in to invade countries where the entire country wasn't the problem. Especially Iraq. Iraq was no problem. And why do we send in invading armies to march into Afghanistan when we're looking for a select group of people in that country?
So I believe that our troops should be brought home out of both places where we're obviously not having any success in Afghanistan. Osama bin Laden is still on the loose and that's who they told us was responsible for 9/11.
Yeah... like Homer Simpson told Bart: If something is hard, it isn't worth doing.... now lets all have a big ol' swig of moonbat juice.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
TV Crack
My addiction has gotten worse. Within the last three weeks, I bought seasons 1-3 and watched them back to back to back over 14 days. During lunch hour at work, I surf the web for info on season five. I obsess over the minutia of each episode. I find myself wondering whether CTU is part of the CIA, or whether it is part of the Defense Department, for crissake.
As far as I'm concerned, 24 is the coolest thing on TV.
I don't know whether it is because Keifer Sutherland is so perfectly suited to play Jack Bauer, or because, season after season, he is surrounded by the best supporting cast I have ever seen, or because every season, the producers and writers have raised the stakes time and time again with graver threats and more adrenaline-pumping drama... but I can't get enough.
Sure, the show has its flaws. What show doesn't? Increasingly, they have begun playing fast and loose with the real-time factor, so that by season 4, characters can get anywhere in southern California within minutes. Some of the plot twists have been pretty damn lame (the infamous amnesia subplot and the cougar from season 2 springs immediately to mind), and the revolving-door of characters who appear suddenly and are liquidated just as quickly can be irritating at times.
But come to think of it, the fact that no character is indispensible might be one of the show's greatest strengths. this trend was established in the finale of season 1, which featured one of the most daring endings I have ever seen. You really never know who is gonna get there ticket punched. I was particularly struck by the demise of so many significant characters in season 3, including one of my favourites, played by Paul Schulze (Father Intintola from the Sopranos). The way that guy went out was so shocking, I could barely believe what I had just seen.
With Jack Bauer "dead" at the end of season 4, I can hardly wait to see what happens in Season 5. I'll be glued to the boob tube for that season premier. I guarantee it.
My addiction has gotten worse. Within the last three weeks, I bought seasons 1-3 and watched them back to back to back over 14 days. During lunch hour at work, I surf the web for info on season five. I obsess over the minutia of each episode. I find myself wondering whether CTU is part of the CIA, or whether it is part of the Defense Department, for crissake.
As far as I'm concerned, 24 is the coolest thing on TV.
I don't know whether it is because Keifer Sutherland is so perfectly suited to play Jack Bauer, or because, season after season, he is surrounded by the best supporting cast I have ever seen, or because every season, the producers and writers have raised the stakes time and time again with graver threats and more adrenaline-pumping drama... but I can't get enough.
Sure, the show has its flaws. What show doesn't? Increasingly, they have begun playing fast and loose with the real-time factor, so that by season 4, characters can get anywhere in southern California within minutes. Some of the plot twists have been pretty damn lame (the infamous amnesia subplot and the cougar from season 2 springs immediately to mind), and the revolving-door of characters who appear suddenly and are liquidated just as quickly can be irritating at times.
But come to think of it, the fact that no character is indispensible might be one of the show's greatest strengths. this trend was established in the finale of season 1, which featured one of the most daring endings I have ever seen. You really never know who is gonna get there ticket punched. I was particularly struck by the demise of so many significant characters in season 3, including one of my favourites, played by Paul Schulze (Father Intintola from the Sopranos). The way that guy went out was so shocking, I could barely believe what I had just seen.
With Jack Bauer "dead" at the end of season 4, I can hardly wait to see what happens in Season 5. I'll be glued to the boob tube for that season premier. I guarantee it.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Thursday, August 04, 2005
On the day that we find out that we have, in our new Governor General, "more of the same", the last of a breed has gone to his rest, and this nation will never see his like:
SMOKY SMITH, V.C. Dead at 91.
SMOKY SMITH, V.C. Dead at 91.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
VORSICHT! BISSIGER SCHWEIN!
BERLIN (AP) — Coming across a 100-kilogram wild animal with bug eyes, a big snout and pointy ears is nothing unusual in many Berlin neighbourhoods.
Up to 7,000 wild pigs inhabit the forests in and around the leafy city and often make themselves at home in residential areas. The result: uprooted gardens, frightened pets and annoyed homeowners.
Marlis Goetze has lived in Eichkamp, one of the most pig-invaded neighbourhoods, for over 12 years. She often takes her golden retriever for a walk in the bordering forest, and says there are lots of the swine lingering around town.
“I am still in shock, I just saw a huge boar in the woods,” Goetze said, making quick steps while leaving the forest with her dog. Often the boars come as close as three metres, she said.
Authorities get some 4,000 complaint calls a year about wild pigs ravaging backyards, tearing up fences and eating their way through vegetable gardens, with onions a particular favourite of the pigs. Learning to tolerate the frequent visitors is part of being a Berliner.
“When you live here you kind of get used to the piggies,” said wild pig victim Peter Bebiolka. Last year three boars dug up his yard and turned it upside down.
“I had to plant new grass but my lawn is still full of humps,” he said. “You can feel the humps when you walk across the yard.”
In the anti-pig camp are Hans and Gila Ruge, a couple who has lived in Eichkamp for decades. “It is absolutely annoying, they come and eat what they can find in my garden,” Hans Ruge said.
This year the pigs — who prefer to ravage yards at night and in groups as large as 15 or 20 — broke into the Ruges’ garden three times. They can easily get in by digging into the ground and pushing up the edge of the fence with their snouts. “Every time they steal my potatoes and eat my onions,” Ruge said.
Derk Ehlert, the city’s administration wildlife expert, says people shouldn’t be afraid of the pigs despite their size. “Wild pigs are extremely peaceful, and only aggressive when they fear their own life is at stake,” Ehlert said.
Sows with piglets can often be more aggressive than boars. While the boars will often be content with a strong push with their snouts, an attacking sow may bite.
Ehlert said the growing population meant that a record high of 2,700 pigs were killed by hunters and cars last year — 1,683 killed during hunting season, while 900 more died in other incidents such as being hit by cars or being shot by city-hired hunters after they cause disruptions such as blocking traffic.
Residents can call for assistance getting a pig out of their yards, but regulations require that city workers must first try to shoo the pig back into the forest. Only when the pig won’t go peacefully or becomes aggressive can deadly force be used.
The biggest mistake people make, Ehlert said, is feeding them. “Home owners often leave their garbage out for days. And sometimes, they even purposely feed the pigs because they think the pigs are so skinny,” Ehlert said.
Feeding wild animals, which makes them lose their fear of people, can draw a fine of thousands of dollars, Ehlert said.
Reports of injuries to people are rare, although several years ago, a sow wandered onto a school playground and aggressively pushed one of the kids, who fell but wasn’t hurt, he said.
“There’s wild pigs all over Berlin but they are very calm and almost never aggressive,” said Marc Franusch, spokesman for the Berlin city forestry department.
“Just don’t monkey with them.”
BERLIN (AP) — Coming across a 100-kilogram wild animal with bug eyes, a big snout and pointy ears is nothing unusual in many Berlin neighbourhoods.
Up to 7,000 wild pigs inhabit the forests in and around the leafy city and often make themselves at home in residential areas. The result: uprooted gardens, frightened pets and annoyed homeowners.
Marlis Goetze has lived in Eichkamp, one of the most pig-invaded neighbourhoods, for over 12 years. She often takes her golden retriever for a walk in the bordering forest, and says there are lots of the swine lingering around town.
“I am still in shock, I just saw a huge boar in the woods,” Goetze said, making quick steps while leaving the forest with her dog. Often the boars come as close as three metres, she said.
Authorities get some 4,000 complaint calls a year about wild pigs ravaging backyards, tearing up fences and eating their way through vegetable gardens, with onions a particular favourite of the pigs. Learning to tolerate the frequent visitors is part of being a Berliner.
“When you live here you kind of get used to the piggies,” said wild pig victim Peter Bebiolka. Last year three boars dug up his yard and turned it upside down.
“I had to plant new grass but my lawn is still full of humps,” he said. “You can feel the humps when you walk across the yard.”
In the anti-pig camp are Hans and Gila Ruge, a couple who has lived in Eichkamp for decades. “It is absolutely annoying, they come and eat what they can find in my garden,” Hans Ruge said.
This year the pigs — who prefer to ravage yards at night and in groups as large as 15 or 20 — broke into the Ruges’ garden three times. They can easily get in by digging into the ground and pushing up the edge of the fence with their snouts. “Every time they steal my potatoes and eat my onions,” Ruge said.
Derk Ehlert, the city’s administration wildlife expert, says people shouldn’t be afraid of the pigs despite their size. “Wild pigs are extremely peaceful, and only aggressive when they fear their own life is at stake,” Ehlert said.
Sows with piglets can often be more aggressive than boars. While the boars will often be content with a strong push with their snouts, an attacking sow may bite.
Ehlert said the growing population meant that a record high of 2,700 pigs were killed by hunters and cars last year — 1,683 killed during hunting season, while 900 more died in other incidents such as being hit by cars or being shot by city-hired hunters after they cause disruptions such as blocking traffic.
Residents can call for assistance getting a pig out of their yards, but regulations require that city workers must first try to shoo the pig back into the forest. Only when the pig won’t go peacefully or becomes aggressive can deadly force be used.
The biggest mistake people make, Ehlert said, is feeding them. “Home owners often leave their garbage out for days. And sometimes, they even purposely feed the pigs because they think the pigs are so skinny,” Ehlert said.
Feeding wild animals, which makes them lose their fear of people, can draw a fine of thousands of dollars, Ehlert said.
Reports of injuries to people are rare, although several years ago, a sow wandered onto a school playground and aggressively pushed one of the kids, who fell but wasn’t hurt, he said.
“There’s wild pigs all over Berlin but they are very calm and almost never aggressive,” said Marc Franusch, spokesman for the Berlin city forestry department.
“Just don’t monkey with them.”
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Shocking news! Soldiers' job is to kill people!
My jaw hung open as I read a recent Globe and Mail Article that quoted statements made by General Rick Hillier, Canada's recently appointed Chief of Defence Staff (Top General):
"We are going to Afghanistan to actually take down the folks that are trying to blow up men and women," Gen. Hillier said.
He also gave a blunt assessment of the role of the Canadian Forces, which he said are designed to protect Canadian interests at home and abroad.
"We're not the public service of Canada, we're not just another department. We are the Canadian Forces, and our job is to be able to kill people," Gen. Hillier said.
Naturally, condemnation was swift in coming. Maude Barlow, Chairwoman of the Council of Canadians and my own personal favourite idiot, responded:
"I'm feeling it's time for people to be as calm as possible. . . . I would love Canada to play a thoughtful, moderating position in this," she said, denouncing Gen. Hillier's comments as "very aggressive."
Naturally -- because when you are going up against the head-hackers and woman-stoners of the Taliban, a gang of thugs who blew up a couple of Canadian soldiers the last time we sent our troops over, it is important to be "thoughtful and moderate". Al-Qaida leader Osama bin Laden was equally thoughtful when he declared Canada a "legitimate target" in March 2004.
Newfoundland-born Hillier, who earned the crossed-swords on his shoulder straps as an armoured officer in the Eighth Canadian Hussars and Royal Canadian Dragoons, is not one to mince words, characterizing the enemy --and that is what they are, THE ENEMY -- as "detestable murderers and scumbags".
This will shock those who think that Canadian soldiers are trained to hand out lollipops, but when I was on basic infantry training in 1994 --a year that saw Canadian soldiers deployed on several peacekeeping missions in the former Yugoslavia and elsewhere -- they were teaching us that the role of the Infantry is to close with and destroy the enemy. To the best of my knowledge, they are still teaching that very same thing.
The General, described as a soldier's soldier, may have shocked some of the Ottawa establishment with his blunt language, but he he is a man who knows what his job is.
--Stephen Staples, a military analyst at the Ottawa-based, left-leaning Polaris Institute, found Gen. Hillier's comments "rather alarming."
"Are we seeing an Americanization of the Canadian Forces?" Mr. Staples asked.
But other prominent lefties seemed to be cool with it. Jack Layton's reaction:
"Controlled anger, given what's happened, is an appropriate response," NDP Leader Jack Layton said. "We have a very committed, level-headed head of our armed forces, who isn't afraid to express the passion that underlies the mission that front-line personnel are going to be taking on.
"A bit of strong language in the circumstances, I don't find that to be wrong."
Jack Layton said that? What the hell is going on? OK, by this point in the article, I'm grinning. In another G&B article, Hillier is quoted again:
"We're not going to let those radical murderers and killers rob from others and certainly we're not going to let them rob from Canada," he said.
He pointed out that during the Second World War, Canadian soldiers did not shy away from fighting the Nazis.
"Did they say, 'No we might be attacked over here if we actually stand up against those despicable murderers and bastards?' No, they did not," Gen. Hillier said..
One question: Where have they been hiding this guy?
My jaw hung open as I read a recent Globe and Mail Article that quoted statements made by General Rick Hillier, Canada's recently appointed Chief of Defence Staff (Top General):
"We are going to Afghanistan to actually take down the folks that are trying to blow up men and women," Gen. Hillier said.
He also gave a blunt assessment of the role of the Canadian Forces, which he said are designed to protect Canadian interests at home and abroad.
"We're not the public service of Canada, we're not just another department. We are the Canadian Forces, and our job is to be able to kill people," Gen. Hillier said.
Naturally, condemnation was swift in coming. Maude Barlow, Chairwoman of the Council of Canadians and my own personal favourite idiot, responded:
"I'm feeling it's time for people to be as calm as possible. . . . I would love Canada to play a thoughtful, moderating position in this," she said, denouncing Gen. Hillier's comments as "very aggressive."
Naturally -- because when you are going up against the head-hackers and woman-stoners of the Taliban, a gang of thugs who blew up a couple of Canadian soldiers the last time we sent our troops over, it is important to be "thoughtful and moderate". Al-Qaida leader Osama bin Laden was equally thoughtful when he declared Canada a "legitimate target" in March 2004.
Newfoundland-born Hillier, who earned the crossed-swords on his shoulder straps as an armoured officer in the Eighth Canadian Hussars and Royal Canadian Dragoons, is not one to mince words, characterizing the enemy --and that is what they are, THE ENEMY -- as "detestable murderers and scumbags".
This will shock those who think that Canadian soldiers are trained to hand out lollipops, but when I was on basic infantry training in 1994 --a year that saw Canadian soldiers deployed on several peacekeeping missions in the former Yugoslavia and elsewhere -- they were teaching us that the role of the Infantry is to close with and destroy the enemy. To the best of my knowledge, they are still teaching that very same thing.
The General, described as a soldier's soldier, may have shocked some of the Ottawa establishment with his blunt language, but he he is a man who knows what his job is.
--Stephen Staples, a military analyst at the Ottawa-based, left-leaning Polaris Institute, found Gen. Hillier's comments "rather alarming."
"Are we seeing an Americanization of the Canadian Forces?" Mr. Staples asked.
But other prominent lefties seemed to be cool with it. Jack Layton's reaction:
"Controlled anger, given what's happened, is an appropriate response," NDP Leader Jack Layton said. "We have a very committed, level-headed head of our armed forces, who isn't afraid to express the passion that underlies the mission that front-line personnel are going to be taking on.
"A bit of strong language in the circumstances, I don't find that to be wrong."
Jack Layton said that? What the hell is going on? OK, by this point in the article, I'm grinning. In another G&B article, Hillier is quoted again:
"We're not going to let those radical murderers and killers rob from others and certainly we're not going to let them rob from Canada," he said.
He pointed out that during the Second World War, Canadian soldiers did not shy away from fighting the Nazis.
"Did they say, 'No we might be attacked over here if we actually stand up against those despicable murderers and bastards?' No, they did not," Gen. Hillier said..
One question: Where have they been hiding this guy?
Triumph the Insult Comic Dog and Eminem bury the hatchet
Eminmem's Ass Like That video has confirmed my suspicion that Marshall Mathers III continues to be a master of image manipulation. About a year ago, he was ridiculed for panicking and shoving a bodyguard in front of him when Triumph ambushed him at the MTV music awards --A video of the incident is available here.
It was later explained that Eminem's momentary discombobulation was supposedly because he was unfamiliar with the puppet-dog's shtick. Fast-forward several months, Eminem has now co-opted (exploited?) the popular character's persona for a hit single and featured the real Triumph in the Crank-Yankers inspired video.
The media-savvy Detroit rapper has walked a fine line over the last half-decade, jousting with the media over accusations of homophobia and mysogyny while juggling three distinct personas on each of his albums: There is Eminem, the main character --a mainstream rapper with real street-cred who relishes his beefs with Benzino of The Source magazine, and Irv Gotti's Murder Inc; there is Marshall Mathers, (Eminem's real name)--the doting father and troubled-man persona who tends towards introspection in some of the artist's more thoughtful songs... and then there is Slim Shady, the juvenile, puerile, vulgar, and borderline-insane dark persona whose every utterance seems calculated to shock. Each of these personalities appears distinct and fully-formed, as far as I can tell, differing in their style of rapping as much as their respective songs differ in their content.
A glance at some of the lyrics on "Ass like that" would seem to set it clearly in the Slim Shady catalogue. But for this song, Eminem has adopted yet another alter-ego: His former tormentor, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog.
I think the reason this song works so well is that Triumph (Robert Smigel's alter-ego) and Slim Shady are cut from the same cloth: They are characters whose outlandish and offensive statements are somehow mitigated by the fact that they are cartoons -- a rubber cigar-chewing puppet and a grotesque parody of a mentally-deranged sociopathic gangster-wannabe: both are so completely absurd and over-the-top that no one can take them seriously.
Throughout the song, Eminem does a pretty-passable imitation of Triumph's distinctive accent and uses many of the acerbic canine's trademark phrases like "I KEED! I KEED!" --one catchphrase that could easily apply to Slim.
In one verse of the song, he raps:
If I offend I'm sorry, please, please forgive
For I am Triumph, the puppet dog, I am a mere puppet
I can get away with anything I sing, you will love it
and in another verse:
I am Triumph, Britney Spears has shoulders like a man
And I can say that and you'll laugh cuz that is a puppet on my hand
Eminem reveals a deep understanding and complicity with the puppet. He knows how to dissociate himself from all the controversy he has churned up, claiming that people who get offended don't "get" the joke: Slim Shady, like Triumph is definitely NOT to be taken seriously. When it comes to Triumph, Eminem gets the joke, because it is the same joke he has been playing on everyone for years.
Eminmem's Ass Like That video has confirmed my suspicion that Marshall Mathers III continues to be a master of image manipulation. About a year ago, he was ridiculed for panicking and shoving a bodyguard in front of him when Triumph ambushed him at the MTV music awards --A video of the incident is available here.
It was later explained that Eminem's momentary discombobulation was supposedly because he was unfamiliar with the puppet-dog's shtick. Fast-forward several months, Eminem has now co-opted (exploited?) the popular character's persona for a hit single and featured the real Triumph in the Crank-Yankers inspired video.
The media-savvy Detroit rapper has walked a fine line over the last half-decade, jousting with the media over accusations of homophobia and mysogyny while juggling three distinct personas on each of his albums: There is Eminem, the main character --a mainstream rapper with real street-cred who relishes his beefs with Benzino of The Source magazine, and Irv Gotti's Murder Inc; there is Marshall Mathers, (Eminem's real name)--the doting father and troubled-man persona who tends towards introspection in some of the artist's more thoughtful songs... and then there is Slim Shady, the juvenile, puerile, vulgar, and borderline-insane dark persona whose every utterance seems calculated to shock. Each of these personalities appears distinct and fully-formed, as far as I can tell, differing in their style of rapping as much as their respective songs differ in their content.
A glance at some of the lyrics on "Ass like that" would seem to set it clearly in the Slim Shady catalogue. But for this song, Eminem has adopted yet another alter-ego: His former tormentor, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog.
I think the reason this song works so well is that Triumph (Robert Smigel's alter-ego) and Slim Shady are cut from the same cloth: They are characters whose outlandish and offensive statements are somehow mitigated by the fact that they are cartoons -- a rubber cigar-chewing puppet and a grotesque parody of a mentally-deranged sociopathic gangster-wannabe: both are so completely absurd and over-the-top that no one can take them seriously.
Throughout the song, Eminem does a pretty-passable imitation of Triumph's distinctive accent and uses many of the acerbic canine's trademark phrases like "I KEED! I KEED!" --one catchphrase that could easily apply to Slim.
In one verse of the song, he raps:
If I offend I'm sorry, please, please forgive
For I am Triumph, the puppet dog, I am a mere puppet
I can get away with anything I sing, you will love it
and in another verse:
I am Triumph, Britney Spears has shoulders like a man
And I can say that and you'll laugh cuz that is a puppet on my hand
Eminem reveals a deep understanding and complicity with the puppet. He knows how to dissociate himself from all the controversy he has churned up, claiming that people who get offended don't "get" the joke: Slim Shady, like Triumph is definitely NOT to be taken seriously. When it comes to Triumph, Eminem gets the joke, because it is the same joke he has been playing on everyone for years.
Friday, July 22, 2005
An Idiotic Knife to her Heart
A GOOGLE search on Natalia Glebova, the Russian-born Canadian winner of Miss Universe 2005, reveals numerous alarming possible scenarios of mistaken-identity.
A Czech golfer, a 35-year-old Russian internet bride, and a Webcam girl all share this name, which I imagine must be something like the russian version of "Jane Smith".
Anyway, in an idiotic move by the City of Toronto, OUR Natalia, a stunning raven-tressed, blue-eyed 23-year old Ryerson student, was recently banned from the Thai festival at good old Nathan Philips Square this weekend on the grounds that
"Activities which degrade men or women through sexual stereotyping or exploit the bodies of men, women, boys or girls solely for the purpose of attracting attention are not permitted on the square."
I don't know what the Thai festival folks had in mind, but I can't imagine it would have involved much exploiting of Ms. U's body, which, unless I'm mistaken, usually appears sheathed in a full-length dress topped by a tiara and circled by a sash. The whole HIV awareness thing that Glebova has adopted as her pet cause doesn't exactly lend itself to the raunchy bikini contest antics that the bylaw was designed to prevent.
Sexual stereotyping? Hmm... debatable. Some would say --but I wouldn't-- that pageants are inherently exploitative and therefore, anyone who wins one is being sexually stereotyped and degraded.
However, I'm certain that it could not have been too long before somebody at City Hall pointed out that, given the City's enthusiastic endorsement and participation in other "cultural" events like Gay Pride and Carribana, both of which feature multitudes of gyrating and thrusting quasi-nude men, women, boys or girls, it might be best to interpret the by-law with a bit more discretion.
The response on the Canada.com
Sound-Off board to this case of political-correctness-run-wild has been incredulous and highly entertaining to read, to say the least.
Mayor Miller has since rescinded the ban, claiming the by-law was "misinterpreted" and left some apologetic messages on Ms. Glebova's voice-mail. Don't hold your breath for that return call, Dave.
A GOOGLE search on Natalia Glebova, the Russian-born Canadian winner of Miss Universe 2005, reveals numerous alarming possible scenarios of mistaken-identity.
A Czech golfer, a 35-year-old Russian internet bride, and a Webcam girl all share this name, which I imagine must be something like the russian version of "Jane Smith".
Anyway, in an idiotic move by the City of Toronto, OUR Natalia, a stunning raven-tressed, blue-eyed 23-year old Ryerson student, was recently banned from the Thai festival at good old Nathan Philips Square this weekend on the grounds that
"Activities which degrade men or women through sexual stereotyping or exploit the bodies of men, women, boys or girls solely for the purpose of attracting attention are not permitted on the square."
I don't know what the Thai festival folks had in mind, but I can't imagine it would have involved much exploiting of Ms. U's body, which, unless I'm mistaken, usually appears sheathed in a full-length dress topped by a tiara and circled by a sash. The whole HIV awareness thing that Glebova has adopted as her pet cause doesn't exactly lend itself to the raunchy bikini contest antics that the bylaw was designed to prevent.
Sexual stereotyping? Hmm... debatable. Some would say --but I wouldn't-- that pageants are inherently exploitative and therefore, anyone who wins one is being sexually stereotyped and degraded.
However, I'm certain that it could not have been too long before somebody at City Hall pointed out that, given the City's enthusiastic endorsement and participation in other "cultural" events like Gay Pride and Carribana, both of which feature multitudes of gyrating and thrusting quasi-nude men, women, boys or girls, it might be best to interpret the by-law with a bit more discretion.
The response on the Canada.com
Sound-Off board to this case of political-correctness-run-wild has been incredulous and highly entertaining to read, to say the least.
Mayor Miller has since rescinded the ban, claiming the by-law was "misinterpreted" and left some apologetic messages on Ms. Glebova's voice-mail. Don't hold your breath for that return call, Dave.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
R.I.P. Jimmy Doohan
Scotty died today. Paul is wearing a black armband and sipping Glenfiddich as he watches old VHS tapes of the OS. Let's face it, Kirk was a pantywaist. Bones was a one-note character who grunted and bugged his eyes out alot. Spock? Totally overrated.
The true heart and soul of the show was the Scotsman in the bowels of the ship, sweating it out over those dilithium crystals, always trying to give 'em more power! The guy who played Scott was a Canadian WWII vet, who stormed the beaches on D-Day and took four kraut bullets, one of which robbed him of a finger.
Why he never kicked Kirk's ass and took over the controls of the ship, I'll never know.
Scotty died today. Paul is wearing a black armband and sipping Glenfiddich as he watches old VHS tapes of the OS. Let's face it, Kirk was a pantywaist. Bones was a one-note character who grunted and bugged his eyes out alot. Spock? Totally overrated.
The true heart and soul of the show was the Scotsman in the bowels of the ship, sweating it out over those dilithium crystals, always trying to give 'em more power! The guy who played Scott was a Canadian WWII vet, who stormed the beaches on D-Day and took four kraut bullets, one of which robbed him of a finger.
Why he never kicked Kirk's ass and took over the controls of the ship, I'll never know.
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