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.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Saturday, October 21, 2006
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!
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!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
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?
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?
Monday, October 16, 2006
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!!!!
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!!!!
Thursday, October 12, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, October 02, 2006
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!
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!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
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!
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!
Monday, September 18, 2006
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!
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!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
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...
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'sEventually 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...
Sunday, September 10, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, September 08, 2006
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
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
Monday, September 04, 2006
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!
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!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
First Pics of the Wedding
Courtesy of Paul, the Best Man.
Backstage: T-minus two minutes
Awaiting the Bride
Stunned After the Ceremony
Groom and His Boys
With Best Man's Family
(What was I doing with my mouth?)
More to come, folks!
Courtesy of Paul, the Best Man.
Backstage: T-minus two minutes
Awaiting the Bride
Stunned After the Ceremony
Groom and His Boys
With Best Man's Family(What was I doing with my mouth?)
More to come, folks!
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Wedding Day
Nesrine, I love you.
Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together
when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together
even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.
Khalil Gibran
From the Book: The Prophet
Nesrine, I love you.
Then Almitra spoke again and said...
"And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together
when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together
even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other's shadow.
Khalil Gibran
From the Book: The Prophet
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Two Weeks to go...
The wedding is fast approaching, and planning continues apace. We have not reached the "frantic" stage, but we are getting there in leaps and bounds. There are so many details that must be attended to. The cake, the photographer, the hall, the seating arrangements, and so on. Mom will be coming down next Sunday to help us with the last sprint to the finish line, and thank the Lord, because Nesrine and I have noticed we are flagging. It is not that we aren't receiving plenty of offers of assistance from family and friends, far from it. I would say it has to do with our respective personalities: we are both quite independent, and hopelessly particular about certain things. For me, it's the photos. We went all out and splurged on this studio because, I reasoned, if the photos of the day aren't up to snuff, years from now, we'll regret that our abiding memories of the day are not really captured on film. I'm big on nice photography, particularly the photojournalistic style that Photolux uses. I have seen too many banal pictures featuring contrived poses and questionable composition to put my faith in some well-meaning dilletante.
For her part, Nesrine is rightfully focusing on her dress, the decorations, and of course, family. The Harbs are legion in these parts, so the guest list is rapidly approaching the 130 mark, a scant three dozen of which will be guests from my side. Make no mistake, this will be a Lebanese-Canadian wedding, and I couldn't be happier... have you tasted Lebanese cuisine before?
Although I have not been exploring the uplands of the internet much lately, I have happened across a few tasty morsels for your enjoyment:
I wonder if Bruno, will make a Cameo in the upcoming Borat movie.... God, I hope so.
The Internet is a Series of Tubes and Senator Ted Stevens is douche
I'm gonna go ahead and refer you this soundboard, MMMM-KAY?
The wedding is fast approaching, and planning continues apace. We have not reached the "frantic" stage, but we are getting there in leaps and bounds. There are so many details that must be attended to. The cake, the photographer, the hall, the seating arrangements, and so on. Mom will be coming down next Sunday to help us with the last sprint to the finish line, and thank the Lord, because Nesrine and I have noticed we are flagging. It is not that we aren't receiving plenty of offers of assistance from family and friends, far from it. I would say it has to do with our respective personalities: we are both quite independent, and hopelessly particular about certain things. For me, it's the photos. We went all out and splurged on this studio because, I reasoned, if the photos of the day aren't up to snuff, years from now, we'll regret that our abiding memories of the day are not really captured on film. I'm big on nice photography, particularly the photojournalistic style that Photolux uses. I have seen too many banal pictures featuring contrived poses and questionable composition to put my faith in some well-meaning dilletante.
For her part, Nesrine is rightfully focusing on her dress, the decorations, and of course, family. The Harbs are legion in these parts, so the guest list is rapidly approaching the 130 mark, a scant three dozen of which will be guests from my side. Make no mistake, this will be a Lebanese-Canadian wedding, and I couldn't be happier... have you tasted Lebanese cuisine before?
Although I have not been exploring the uplands of the internet much lately, I have happened across a few tasty morsels for your enjoyment:
I wonder if Bruno, will make a Cameo in the upcoming Borat movie.... God, I hope so.
The Internet is a Series of Tubes and Senator Ted Stevens is douche
I'm gonna go ahead and refer you this soundboard, MMMM-KAY?
Friday, August 04, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Guess who is destined to be spit out of the bottom of the entertainment industry a few short years from now?
You gotta see it coming, no? So, instead of making excuses, the least a mother can do is give her child some discipline.. or at least keep her kid on a tighter leash while she is riding high and milk every moment of stardom for what it is worth.. cuz it won't last... at least not if history teaches us anything.
Ask these folks
You gotta see it coming, no? So, instead of making excuses, the least a mother can do is give her child some discipline.. or at least keep her kid on a tighter leash while she is riding high and milk every moment of stardom for what it is worth.. cuz it won't last... at least not if history teaches us anything.
Ask these folks
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