Easing gracefully into middle age?

Now that I am on the wrong side of 40, I have finally come to the conclusion that perhaps some lifestyle changes might be in order.

Last weekend, at a memorial service for Donna (my mother's dearest friend since grade 9), Donna's grandson (age approx. 22) introduced me to his buddy (who had come to the rememberance to show respect) in this way:

PALGOLAK, just wait til we are all sitting on the dock looking at the stars this summer! Jimmy here is a first class partay-er. He won't disappoint!

These words froze the blood in my veins. Sure, not so long ago (relatively speaking), I did enjoy sitting on the end of the dock recounting (and listening to) heroic bouts of substance abuse from teenagers, but now I find it a bit boring.

Even painful, unless I am extremely over-refreshed.

I try to visualize myself as a twenty-year old, and how I viewed middle-aged 'partay-ers', but I come up with a blank.

I probably thought they were pretty cool, old folks that smoked ganja.

All I know is that in a Saturday evening cottage situation, these days, the last place I want to be is sitting on a dock with a passel of drunk university students swearing and talking loudly about drugs and alcohol, especially when my reborn aunt and uncle (with visiting church friends) are sitting on another dock 10 metres away trying to enjoy the Northern Lights. (This happened last summer, BTW.)

I just want to lie on a couch (or hammock) and read, whilst sipping a glass of wine. And take the occasional look at the stars, of course.

Last summer, in the aftermath of the multiple murder of a bunch of middle-aged Bandidos, I read a psychological analysis in a paper (I forget which) that posited that the 'biker type' were people that couldn't let go from that party-hearty lifestyle that they had grown accustomed to as youngsters.

I doubt whether John Muscedere (photo above) ever worried about the harmful effects of ganja smoke enough to buy a vapourizer, and he probably still did liquor shots, too. (If you click on the image, you can see the whole photograph, including kids' toys under a tree to the side.)

Am I any different, even though I own a vapourizer and eschew hard liquor? I wonder.

Luckily I have avoided an early death, but still I find it depressing that my young buddy assumes that my behaviour on a Saturday night will have more in common with John Muscedere's than, say, James Wolcott's.


 

After decades of trying, I have finally made it into a union

The Toronto Cyclists Union, that is. The TCU is holding a fundraiser at the Bloor Cinema on Thursday, May 29 where the main event will be the showing of Pee Wee's Big Adventure, perhaps the greatest bike-oriented film of all time.

If that isn't enough, local celebrities are appearing as guests, including wilting oriental blossom Sook-yin Lee and noted metrosexual Adrian Heaps.

Throw in some Rocky Horror Picture Show-style audience participation and we are talking some serious entertainment, especially for only $14.

Here are some clips from PWBA (NB unfortunately I couldn't find a clip from my favourite scene of the movie: the guided tour of the Alamo).

Pee Wee leaves the biker bar (0:35 mins)


Pee Wee's big meeting (3:14 mins)

More Sikhs than you can shake a stick at!

And they were all eating, too, at least by the time I joined them at Nathan Phillips Square (the parade was held a little too early for me).

Yesterday was the big Khalsa Day Parade in downtown Toronto and, according to the Toronto Sun (the only major daily paper to report on it (!?!)) the attendance was approximately 60,000.

Not such a big deal, by LTTE-supporter standards, but still a visual feast because of the colours everywhere.

When I first encountered this festival at Nathan Phillips Square last year, I was surprised that all the food, bottled water, etc. was given freely to anyone. Usually these sorts of ethnic events charge at least a nominal fee for food.

According to a pamphlet I was handed, free food and lodging at Sikh temples (buildings marked by an orange flag emblazoned with a khanda) for any visitlor is integral to their religion. I like the cut of their jib!

Photos from the event:

The merits of dried beans

I have often pondered on the mystery of the dried bean.

Because, apparently, soaking them for a period of time, then boiling them makes them digestible.

In my experience, however, this is not true (excepting lentils, but only the red kind). If I try to "keep it real" and use dried beans, as opposed to using much more expensive canned beans, a discomforting 'gassy' feeling is inevitably the result.

Now, Heather Havrilsky, the TV critic at salon.com, has helped me feel less of environmentally-unfriendly freak (at least in this regard).

In a recent column (warning, you may or may not have to stare at an ad for 10 seconds or so), she lays bare her own struggle with dried beans. I am not alone!

In part:

...Which brings us back to the bean aisle at my grocery store. This is my new therapy (since I can't afford the old kind): shopping for alarmingly cheap yet nutritious foods. It's relaxing, somehow, to stand there in front of those bags -- 33 cents for split peas! Amazing! -- fantasizing about how my family will eat only beans from now on: chilis and bean burritos (Homemade tortillas! Just flour and water!) and bean soups, whole meals that cost less than $3 to make, that might feed the family for days on end. As I escape into a hazy daydream of delicious gourmet bean concoctions, all of which are practically free, I suddenly become aware that I'm not alone.

There's a stout, pragmatic-looking woman standing next to me, fondling a bag of 15-bean soup mix. "This looks pretty tasty," she says somewhat suspiciously, half to herself and half to me. "Fifteen beans!" She breathes those words -- "Fifteen beans!" -- in the same tone most people would say "five-course meal!" or "three-week vacation!" And then she just stands there, fondling and sighing for a full minute, like she's gazing out at the Mediterranean, snacking on a delightful array of cured meats and aged cheeses.

"That does look pretty good," I say, sociably picking up the same bag. It feels good to talk to a stranger about beans. I'm not only buying beans, you see, I am discussing various bean-related options with other bean buyers...

You get the jist, I am sure. Comedy gold!

Bull in a China Shop, by GABLE in today's Globe and Mail.

hillary Hillary HILLARY!

Usually, I couldn't give a toss who ends up appointed as the next titular leader of the Great Satan, since every one of the candidates will full-throatedly champion the interests of unrestrained capitalism, above all, when push comes to shove.

However, over the past few months, I have become aware of a hitherto unsuspected visceral dislike, on my own part, for Hillary Clinton.

I have always despised Bill Clinton, of course. But Hillary? "Who cares?", I used to think. No better or worse than the rest.

After this winter's exposure to Hillary, though, her actions (or those of her campaign staff, same diff) have made clear to me she is just as much of a triangulator as her piece-of-shit husband.

Ie. no strong principles or beliefs, just the propensity to do whatever it takes to achieve and maintain power.

This is from an article Molly Ivins wrote in 2006, entitled I will not support Hillary Clinton for president:

Enough. Enough triangulation, calculation and equivocation. Enough clever straddling, enough not offending anyone This is not a Dick Morris election. Sen. Clinton is apparently incapable of taking a clear stand on the war in Iraq, and that alone is enough to disqualify her. Her failure to speak out on Terri Schiavo, not to mention that gross pandering on flag-burning, are just contemptible little dodges.

Molly goes on at length, describing her distaste for a senator that has always followed 'where the wind blows'. I could have cut and pasted the whole article here, but I believe that would be lazy on my part.

Instead, I choose to cut and paste a posting from my favourite Political Satirist (aside from Rick Mercer, of course), Barry Crimmins:

I have no respect for the Clintons. None

Why? They took an already weak political party and sold it (OK, remaindered it) to the corporate bosses.

Hillary Clinton has taken more money from the enemies of peace and prosperity for average people than any other 2008 presidential candidate. Period.

Her finance chief is the criminal Terry McAuliffe.

Her chief strategist is Blackwater apologist Mark Penn.

She looks upon the presidency as if it should be hers as a perquisite for keeping her mouth shut about her husband's cheesy conduct.

That husband has risen in stature because he was replaced by a braying, criminal jagoff. Now there's an accomplishment!

She promises to revitalize Rush Limbaugh and an array of reactionary blowhards by reinvigorating an ancient feud that will resume on so many fronts that there will be no way to avert our gaze from it. Our nostrils won't be spared, either. It's no surprise that Limbaugh is urging Republicans to cross primary lines to vote for her.

She runs as a feminist on the basis of her gender, even though anyone even remotely politically literate understands that she is a tool of the patriarchy. War machine = patriarchy.

And so I find candidate Clinton to be contemptible. This doesn't mean that I am some naive foundling on the Obama doorstep. I'd just like to see him end Clinton's run for president. That summarizes my excitement concerning the Senator from Illinois.

Actually this is only an amuse-gule for the rest of Barry's post. But you get the basic idea.

No matter how much of a mooncalf Obama is, at least he isn't Hillary Clinton.

GABLE's take on the current state of the U.S. presidential election process. From the Globe and Mail.

Somewhere, somehow, Canadian troops are getting some love

(time 1:21)

An atypical job interview

Yesterday, I interviewed for a job with the City of Toronto. An HR gal and the person I presume would be my manager ushered me into a little room and we sat around a little table. Placed in front of me was a sharpened pencil and a 8.5" x 11" pad of paper, 'in case I wanted to take some notes during the interview'.

The interview consisted of 6 questions, which I was assured were the same 6 questions all the applicants for this particular job were asked.

At the end, I peeled off the sheet of paper I had written on and moved to put it with the rest of my documents when the HR gal said, 'I am sorry but I am going to have to confiscate that' and tucked the sheet into her notes.

They denied they wanted it for hand-writing analysis, but what other possible reason is there for this odd behaviour?

Is it possible a hand-writing sample is like hair or finger-nail clippings, and can be used for voodoo hexes or other occult phenomenæ?

If voodoo practitioners or other unsavoury cultists have infiltrated the City of Toronto, then we are all in big trouble, especially since the City of Toronto is so heavily unionised.

Chelsea out on their bums!

Last weekend, Chelsea FC, English Premier League bigshots, were knocked out of the FA Cup Quarter Finals by lowly Barnsley FC, currently in danger of being relegated from the the English Championship League. (Full disclosure: I am currently managing Barnsley in World Football Manager 2007.)

Here are video links to a recap of the match:

Part 1 (9:54 minutes)



Part 2 (7:23 minutes)



Please take note of the Barnsley fans that invade the pitch when the final whistle blows: not the mob of drunken skin-heads one might imagine. Instead the 'invaders' are mostly kids, and at least one middle-aged housewifie-type.

In Barnsley, at least, soccer is still fun for the whole family.

Barnsley's performance in this year's FA Cup (they beat Liverpool at Anfield a few weeks ago) makes me want to emigrate to the UK and live in Barnsley, so I can watch real English soccer from the stands, rather than watching highlights huddled over a laptop.

Unfortunately, Barnsley is probably a depressed area: it is a small town in southern Yorkshire, so it is probably the societal and economic equivalent of Kirkland Lake, Ontario. AKA, not much going on, at least since the mines closed.

Stuff White People Like

I have been killing time this morning (well, technically this afternoon) reading the blog Stuff White People Like.

Favourite postings thus far include:

#75 Threatening to Move to Canada

#71 Being the only white person around

#38 Arrested Development

#53 Dogs

#52 Sarah Silverman

#33 Marijuana

#15 Yoga


And, last but *certainly* not least:

#11 Asian Girls


They are funny because they are true!

Bear in mind that by 'white', the blogger seems to mean 'liberals' in the context of the Great Satan.

England Manager has his hairdryer stolen

Last week, England manager Fabio Capello had his specially purchased hair dryer stolen from his dressing room at Wembley Stadium.

From the MIrror:

An investigation has now been launched and a new hairdryer will be bought in time for England's next home game.

A source told the Mirror: "The England manager has his own dressing room next to the players' one. After Fabio got the England job he asked for a hairdryer to be put in there for his sole use.

"We thought it was a bit strange but he's the boss and we got a top-of-the-range dryer. Everything went smoothly on Wednesday and Fabio seemed happy when he left."

GABLE- Everybody has his breaking point

Editorial cartoon from today's Globe and Mail. Proof that 'a picture is worth a thousand words' is still apropos.

Joe Strummer: the Future is Unwritten

Currently showing in Canada at a classy repetoire cinema near you, Joe Strummer: the Future is Unwritten is, unsurprisingly, a documentary about Joe Strummer, the ex-Clash frontman.

Who cares? I do. Looking back, I have to say that the Clash's political views, exposed to me at a sensitive age, have made me the moonbat I am today.

Social Justice? Anti-militarism? A strong belief in what is right or wrong? What 12 year old could resist it?

I think that I am not alone in my feeling that once Uncle Joe died, we lost a good one. Where is the justice that Sir Mick or Rod "if you think I'm sexy" Stewart still continue poncing about when good people like Joe die prematurely?

This is where aetheism starts!

In fact, if I think of pop culture figures that died before 'the fullness of time', the two I miss the most are Joe Strummer and Phil Hartman.

The documentary has been reviewed by, amongst others, the Star and the Globe and Mail .

Further thoughts on my proposed "Yokel Index"

I have decided that avoiding places with Conservative MPs is probably the best measure of a locality, vis-a-vis its level of yokelness. Still, the heavy presence of war-supporting displays should also be included in any consideration.

Another thing for immigrant same sex couples to watch out for:

Kooky anti-government signs displayed along highways. There seems to be a lot of them, east of Oshawa and north of Highway 7 (if you know what I mean).

Driving around Clarington and Peterborough counties, I see a fair number of them, themed "BACK OFF GOVERNMENT--THIS LAND IS OUR LAND".

Leaving aside the questionable tactic of inviting the Government's attention, I must wonder that these signs are supposed to accomplish?


I have no idea what these "BACK OFF GOVERNMENT--THIS LAND IS OUR LAND" signs are on about, but it can't be good.

Establishing a "Yokel Index"

Earlier this week, over at we move to canada, there was some debate over which Canadian community a gay couple from Boston(?) should move to, when they finally get their act together enough to actually do it.

Factors important to the couple included proximity to New England, population size, nearness to nature, and most importantly a local Roman Catholic church with a relaxed attitude. (And good luck with the last one, by the way...)

What I think was unaddressed in that discussion is what I refer to as the "Yokel Index".

Canada may very well have the reputation of being a tolerant, progressive society. However, taking a Saturday night stroll along the promenade of, say, Bowmanville Ontario will quickly challenge this presumption.

A town might have everything Steve and his husband say they are looking for: scenic, near the New York border, within easy driving distance of Toronto and with lots of jobs.

At the same time, this idyll's population could be largely composed of knuckle-dragging, gay-hating neanderthals.

There are lots of places I could harangue gay immigrants about avoiding: any place where agriculture is still an important part of the local economy; any place there are factories; communities with lots of bearded men (aside from Cabbagetown).

Being an immigrant anywhere is hard enough. In lots of places in 'tolerant' Canada, being a gay AND an immigrant would probably push locals into the "angry crowd carrying torches" demographic.

How to determine this "Yokel Index"? One quick way would be to rule out moving to any ridings that voted Conservative in the last federal election. In this scenario, places like Guelph or Kitchener-Waterloo would be acceptable, while Cambridge, Peterborough or Barrie would not.

The other possibility, which I favour, is making note of how many "support the troops" bumper stickers you see whilst driving around.

For example, where I live in downtown Toronto, it is exceptional to see a troops bumpersticker. Inevitably the driver will be some old coot, presumably visiting from Barrie, Maple, or Sutton. Not even worth the energy it would take to despise them.

In Peterborough, just 120 minutes away from Toronto, it is much different. I would say that 1 in 10 vehicles have war magnets on their cars, all of them one of the three displayed at the top of this post.

If you go to Orono, which I frequently do because its LCBO is handy when I am on the way to visit my mother for the weekend, you see that Orono's main street has yellow ribbons wrapped around the telephone poles.

If we are creating a "Yokel Index" for people like Steve and his husband, I think each wrapped tree spotted should count as the same as a spotted bumper magnet. By the same token, a vehicle with three war magnets should count as 3 spottings, not one. (No joke I saw one like this on the 401 today!)

The "Yokel Index" will be a hard instrument to calibrate [that's what she said-ed] but I think it is possible.

Just because I saw more yellow ribbons in Orono than I did war magnets in Peterborough doesn't mean there are more yokels in Orono than Peterborough. Orono has an old-timey vibe, a couple of antiques stores for example. Orono would be OK for Steve and co.

On the other hand: Peterborough, where young guys with bad haircuts actually still drive hotrods around? Almost by definition locals have war magnets on the back of their pickups.

Steve and his husband deserve a useful set of metrics before they make their decision. Noting car badges is decidedly a non-scientific way of collecting data, but it is obvious, and cheap.



d

Why is Kerala always the butt of jokes, but not Gujarat?

It is a source of great interest to me that it seems like blogs of Indian emigrants to North America are always criticizing Kerala for its supposed 'backwardness', in continuing to elect communists into power, while ignoring the much more odious qualities of political life in the north, especially Gujarat.

It is almost like Keralans are the Indian version of Newfies (or Tasmanians in Australia, Azoreans in Portugal, etc.), ie. always ripe for 'sport'.

Some background:

Previously, in this space, I have mused aloud about the apparent anomalies of the Kerala Model. Meanwhile, over at Ultrabrown, Kerala is being presented as The land that time forgot.

Ah, yes, the land that time forgot. Except for literacy rate. And mortality rate. Etc.

A possible answer to this question is explained in an article in the last edition of Frontline Magazine (published by the same people that publish the Hindu), entitled "Why Gujarat?".

From the article:

“While the ideology of Hindutva [Hindu nationalism, akin to white nationalsim- PALGOLAK.] was gaining ground,” say Yagnik and Sheth, “moderate voices were getting weaker…. By the early 1990s, community leaders… no longer wielded any authority over their youth…. These youngsters… have grown up on a diet of anti-minority invective and the voices of moderation, of liberal thought and tolerance have been missing from their environment.”

A second factor is the influence of conservative ideas through the non-resident Indian (NRI) community. Gujarat has the highest representation of any Indian State among professional NRIs living in North America. Their reactionary “long-distance” nationalism feeds Hindutva. They are more orthodox and backward-looking than their resident Indian counterparts, but provide the role model for young Gujaratis.

At the same time, Keralans are mocked for their accents (Lola Kutty), their lungis (a very practical clothing choice IMHO), a tendency towards naive Christianity (implying a very strong caste system forcing dalits and the like toward conversion) and an over reliance on thick moustaches.

Still, enough is enough. Why don't these NRIs make fun of Tamils, for a change?


UPDATE
Since I accidentally published this post before it was ready, I was taken by surprise when manish from Ultrabrown instantly responded to the posting with a representative link to an Ultrabrown criticism of Gujarati politics.

I had already removed the original post from the interweeb before his comment was displayed, but I hope he will forgive my hasty action.

Take the "Test the Nation" test online

Courtesy of the CBC.

I did it and scored 48/60, which is good enough for me to not be too embarassed publishing the results. About average for white males from Ontario, if you check out the stats page.

Try it out youself!

N.B. it only seems to work in Internet Explorer, which is deplorable, especially for a public company like the CBC. What if a Linux user wants to take the test? I would think that the CBC is a little more "on the ball" than that.


FURTHERMORE!

It strikes me, in retrospect (not having the mental energy to examine the correct answers), that my lack of knowledge about apple products, and apple in general, probably hurt my score.

Why should I be relegated to the second tier of results simply because I am too frugal to indulge in apple products? The test deviser was no Scotsman, Jew, Korean, or Parsee, that is sure!

Maybe the NY Times isn't as humourless as I had always supposed

I was reading a typical (or so I thought) article entitled Bush Prods Saudi Arabia on Oil Price when I eventually encountered this paragraph:

It was unclear whether Mr. Bush’s entreaties alone would have any significant effect on the price of oil, because, as the president acknowledged, demand continues to rise faster than supplies, especially in expanding markets in China and India, as well as the United States.

I don't know about you, but as a sarcastic c**t myself, I love this sort of unlooked-for zinger. Especially in a newspaper famous for its diffidence. And boringness.

I bet that the author, James Glanz , is British. Its subtlety, placed in the middle of the article, implies that quintessential English sneakiness, as testimonials from innumerable Indians, Burmese, and tons of African nationals will bear witness.

My brilliant solution for disposing of nuclear waste: bury it on The Moon!

In this time of ever increasing energy costs, forward-thinkers are harder pressed than ever to come up with possible ways to produce clean energy for fuelling our jet-skis, dune-buggies, and $2,000,000 sports cars.

Nuclear energy was viewed as the cleanest energy source available for a long time. Unfortunately, no one knew how to dispose of the waste.

Here in Ontari-ari-ari-o (historically a big proponent of nuclear energy), I recall a proposal to bury our nuclear waste in an abandoned mineshaft near Timmins. (Possibly the same mineshaft that people were recently proposing we use to bury Toronto's garbage? Who owns that property, I muse aloud...)

The only problem with this proposal was that nuclear waste has a half-life of something approaching 50,000 years. Since the geological record indicates that Ontario suffers a major earthquake every 5,000 years or so, that leaves lots of chances for ruptured nuclear waste containers buried in mineshafts to leak radiation into the environment.

Not exactly "Keeping Ontario Beautiful" in the long run, is it?

That is why I propose burying nuclear waste on the moon. If there is an earthquake (or more likely a major asteroid strike) and the containers are ruptured, leaking radiation into the 'atmosphere', then it is still no big deal.

It is not like the radiation is going to leak into our atmosphere, or anything.

Alternatively, we could just load up old, crappy USSR rockets with spent nuclear fuel and send them into the Sun. If that might theoretically destablise the Sun (who really knows?) we could always point the rockets at, say, the Dog Star (I have always felt dislike for the Dog Star) and fire away!

All I am saying, purely hypothetically, is why not put all this 'space science' stuff to work and help solve what is shaping up to be the biggest problem of the 21st (or is it the 22nd?) century-- how to fuel our God-given right to a "Mountain Dew" lifestyle as strategically as possible.

Happy New Year

Another entertaining cartoon from GABLE.

Another holiday season almost over, thank Goddess

Yep, the wheel has completed yet another turn, having brought with it the usual complaints about how either 1) Christmas as a Christian holiday has been subverted by Political Correctness, or 2) Christmas sucks because it is a holiday only Christians are allowed to enjoy.

Both these assumptions are wrong, and for vastly different reasons.
As I have previously mentioned in this space, Christmas isn't a real "Christian" holiday, in the way that Easter or Michaelmas are (although both fall near the equinoxes, coincidentially).

Christmas, or Yuletide, as I like to call it, should be a time for *everyone* to try and enjoy, regardless of their beliefs. Most religions have some sort of holiday surrounding the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, probably to cheer themselves up.

Take a gander at the graphic surmounting this post. The fire, the tree, the evergreen decorations, the slumbering pooch, the presents themselves. They have fuck all to do with Christianity.

They are pagan vestiges of the far more interesting occasion of Yuletide.

When good people bad-mouth Christmas as a bogus Christian holiday, it unsettles me because they are missing the point. Christmas is as much about Christ as my big toe.

Except for nativity scenes, of course. But that is pure dogan stuff, and isn't representative of Christianity in the larger sense.

So buck up, Sarah Silverman. Santa will give you toys, if you ask, even if you aren't a gentile.

Give the Jew Girl Toys


Furthermore, the lengths certain fictional characters go to avoiding Christmas celebrations smack of desperation and can only result in psychic damage to the little ones, as this compilation of Seinfeld Festivus moments will attest:

Festivus

A short rant on why streetcars SUCK

I have lived in Toronto for over a decade now, and I thought I had come to terms with the many negative aspects of streetcars:

Noise pollution.

The horrible noise they make, which I have named "Tortured Steel" in an attempt to put the feeling the noise gives me to words. (Nota Bene: no relation to "Blue Steel")

Less control than bumper cars.

Streetcar drivers have about the same level of control over their vehicles as the proles who ride on DisneyWorld's Tomorrowland® Indy Speedway, A.K.A. none.

On College or Dundas Street, in the narrow bits, it has been proven, scientifically, that a cyclist riding alongside a streetcar will be KILLED, 100% of the time, if a parked motorist decides to abruptly open his or her street-side door. Allahu akbar.

Those tracks.

I have flipped on them, biking, 3 or 4 times since I moved here. The first time was excusable (and SPECTACULAR, turning left onto College from northbound Spadina), because I DIDN'T KNOW! The other times were bad luck or bad decisions. I accept that.

The final straw.

Streetcars are undependable. Extremely undependable, to use the results of last weekend's storm as an example.

Whenever there is a big snow dump, snowbanks force parking vehicles to encroach into the streetcar lane, and often something as small time as an SUV's sideview mirror is enough to bring an entire streetcar line to a halt. There is nothing quite like the sight of 12 streetcars in a row, all motionless, to make you reassess the value of public transport.

Sure, streetcars are all environmental, or whatever, but I don't comprehend how they are worth such an involvement financially from the governments. Why not change some buses to those new hybrid engines and run them on the wires where they exist now, like Dundas and College streets?

I really, really, hate those streetcars.

Disturbing signals from my unconscious mind?

I sleepwalked twice during my stay in balmy Cuba last week. One minute, I am dreaming about walking around outside, the next minute I am walking around outside!

I never really believed that such a phenomenon as sleepwalking was actually true. I figured that the kind of people that claim they sleepwalk are the kind of people that believe horoscopes are true or the kind of people that forward accounts of angel sightings to lots of other angel-oriented people.

The only time I recall reading about it in the paper was when some guy got off a murder charge by successfully claiming that when he drove 30 miles and killed his parents-in-law, he was sleepwalking. I can't find a link for that particular case, but apparently the first time the sleepwalking defence was successfully used was in 1846!


Anyhoo, at least as far as the steady hands monitoring the human condition at SteadyHealth.com are concerned, sleepwalking is caused by

Cause of sleepwalking - stress

Several researches done in the past have showed that sleep problems frequently occur around periods of stress. It is not uncommon for a person's sleep to be disrupted following the death of a loved one or around the time of a major medical problem. This is why many sleep problems resolve once the stress is resolved or the medical condition subsides. However, some sleep disorders can begin with an acute problem and become a chronic sleep problem.

I refuse to accept this explanation. I was under less stress than I have been in a long, long time. The only remotely plausible alternative explanations I have come up with, thus far, include:

1. I was being mentally interfered with by the Castro government, perhaps in the form of orbital satellites, or zombie powder in the buffet food.

2. I was feeling guilty, unconsciously, that by attending this all-inclusive resort I was propping up the Communist government of Fidel Castro.

Either one is possible, although I have to favour the first option since, consciously at least, I quite delight in the thought of spitting in the eye of the Great Satan by vacationing in Cuba.

Andrew Coyne imagines the dialogue during that first hotel room meeting between Mulroney and Schreiber

THE SCENE: An airport hotel room. At left, seated in an armchair, KARLHEINZ SCHREIBER, stroking a cat. Before him stands MARTIN BRIAN MULRONEY, 18th PRIME MINISTER OF CANADA.

MBM
Well, golly, Mr. Schreiber, who by the way I have never had any dealings with. It was good of you to call me, since you were passing through town, to go for a cup of coffee. But why are we out here at Mirabel? Wouldn't the lobby bar of the Queen Elizabeth have been simpler?...

KHS
(Throws head back. Laughs, a long, slow, villainous laugh.)
Brian, Brian, Brian. I have something I want you to do for me.

MBM
Jeepers, Mr. Schreiber. What can that be? I'm just a simple ex-Prime Minister and former president of the Iron Ore Co. of Canada. How can I be of service to a sophisticated international businessmen such as yourself?

KHS
I can't exactly put it into words, or certainly not on paper. But it involves consulting me on a couple of projects in which you have particular expertise. The one is a simple matter of building German tanks in Cape Breton with federal money for export to Saudi Arabia. The other is a miracle pasta machine. And since we have never had any dealings with each other, or certainly nothing remotely related to Airbus, I am willing to pay you $100,000 a year, the first $100,000 in advance. I might even throw in another $200,000 in two subsequtent hotel room meetings within the next 16 months. Think of it as a retainer. Which by the way means you do not need to declare it on your income tax until years later. Or mention it in court under oath.

MBM
Jiminy cricket, Mr. Schreiber. That's just the sort of business I'm interested in. You see, after nine years as prime minister, I have no money, or not enough to support my family in the lifestyle to which they've become accustomed. Not only that, but I've done nothing about this situation in the six months since I decided to step down as prime minister. In short, I'm flat broke, if you don't count my parliamentary pension or the multiple directorships and massive legal fees I'll be pulling down the minute I leave politics. So if you'll just make the cheque out to --

KHS
(Laughs that laugh again. At length.)
Brian, Brian, Brian. We don't need no stinking cheques! I deal in cash only.

MBM
Gosh, Mr. Schreiber. I don't know. Why would you want to do this in cash?

KHS
Because I'm a sophisticated international businessman, that's why, and like all sophisticated international businessmen, I always deal in cash.

MBM
But shouldn't we leave some sort of paper trail? There'll have to be invoices, contracts, bank statements. Because I have nothing to hide.

KHS
No! I said cash! K-A-S-H! Here, just take the envelope.

MBM
Gee whillikers, Mr. Schreiber. All right. You're the sophisticated international businessman. If you say it's okay, I guess it's all right by me. I just hope I'm not making a colossal mistake...

The full imagining of this hypothetical conversation can be viewed here.

An apropos reminder from John Barber

Quoting from his column in last Saturday's Globe and Mail:

Torontonians wondering why the Harper government insists on treating them contemptuously should remember the wise words of John Stuart Mill: "Conservatives are not necessarily stupid, but most stupid people are conservatives."

(Yes, I am that far behind in my reading. Since there are no newspapers available except what I brought with me, I am reduced to reading every single article from the Saturday Globe, word by word.)

Whacked!

Having watched and learned from shows like Goodfellas and the Sopranos, I know what to expect when an authority figure tries to lure the victim into a deserted area, say an empty warehouse, or a parking garage, or in my case an empty eXcite centre... that way when things get ugly there will be no witnesses.

On Monday morning, I received an email from my manager to meet her at 10h00 sharp on the seventh floor of the building next door to our own (new, only been there a week) office.

Having been fired before, I knew the signs: Monday morning, an impenetrable email summons, a meeting in a place that I have never been before.

A classic corporate whack.

My boss met me at the glass doors at 10h00 sharp. Luckily, because, as I mentioned, the seventh floor was deserted and there was no one else to let me in if she wasn't there.

She activated the door, then escorted me past empty offices (empty except for the one where the man who would prove to be my 'outbound counselor' was busy unpacking his bags and assiduously avoiding any eye contact) to a meeting room where 3 eXcite desks had been arranged in a triangle formation.

One for me, one for my manager, and one for the heartbreakingly nervous HR representative. (I suspect this was her first firing. She was so nervous and cute!)

The upshot? A pretty good package, as far as I am concerned. I kept things classy (I had even packed up my belongings and took them with me to the meeting), so did they, so I think things worked out pretty well.

Off to Cuba for a week, starting tomorrow!

Dogan Update

I had the opportunity, last weekend, of asking my elderly polish-canadian catholic relatives if they were 'dogans' and the response was universal. 'Dogan' is a pejorative term for Irish Catholics, not Catholics in general. Polacks have their own 'nicknames', it seems.

Another linguistic conundrum solved!

An amusing reminiscence involving George Galloway

A couple of winters ago, just before he left for the Great Satan to proactively defend himself against various Greater Satanic governmental accusations, "Gorgeous" George Galloway gave a speech at a church on Bloor St.

I don't remember most of it (I had seen his performance before, and it hadn't changed much) but one part stuck in my mind as a classic example of what I now recognise as classic the Office-style comedy (ie. embarrassing, no laugh track).

GGG, in his fine scots tenor, was haranguing the packed house:

I have talked to leaders throughout the Middle East. I have listened to the students at religious schools and secular universities alike. People have called for the destruction of Israel...

And here he paused for a deep breath of air. Before he could finish his sentence

...which I reject ENTIRELY!

there was an enormous burst of applause from the audience. It was really awkward for a moment or two.

The sponsor of the event, an ancient lady with a jewish name, had been introduced to the audience just minutes before. At that time, we were congratulating ourselves on how tolerant we all were, Jews, activist Christians, Moslems, lefties, and freaks alike.

Then this perfect Office moment occurred!

GGG paused for a moment, then tactfully carried on with his schtick as if nothing had happened.

I bet he made sure that particular pause wouldn't occur the next place he took his tour to!

UPDATE
In a lot of ways, George reminds me of Don Cherry. The problem is that I despise Don Cherry but I kind of like George Galloway.

Huh... certainly something to think about...

Stephen Harper, pussy lover?

That is apparently what the smart-alecks that run the Prime Minister's homepage would have us believe.

Scroll down the page, and there is a graphic in the left column entitled "Foster Pet Programs". This is it in the context of the page:



Fair enough, one might think. Good cause and all that.

But take a closer look at the photo:

Here, one kitty is sound asleep nestled atop the comforting expanse of the PM's gut, while the PM pauses from reading a book (to it?).

Another very similar looking kitty appears uninterested in the story and is gazing fixedly into the middle distance (a popular motif in Prime Ministerial photos, it seems).

Now that I have stared at this (a photoshop creation, surely!) for a while, I have decided that the graphic designer is having a bit of fun.

You know, like having a politician famous for his lack of basic human qualities depicted reading a storybook to some little kitties.

Those kitties urgently needed some lovin', and the PM stepped up to the plate, be damned the consequences!

Cat hair all over his suit or an interruption to his busy schedule is unimportant when rogue, unadopted kitties might run wild.

Priceless. Enjoy it now, because I suspect it won't be around for long.

Targetting the fatso demographic?

First it was the Tim Horton's demographic, then the NASCAR demographic. Now this?

The last time I 'liberated' an outdoorsy photo off the PM's official website, it showed Stephen Harper standing in a bush somewhere while a skinny local guy pointed out a good location for some clear-cutting.

This time around, Harper's image people have placed him between 2 other fatsoes, perhaps in the hope that he will look less awkward and rotund in comparison.

Besides that, it is basically the same shot. This time, however, it is Harper who is pointing into the middle distance in an unconvincing manner.

While John Baird (to starboard) is at least pretending to peer in the direction indicated by Spock's corpse-like sausage finger, the third (unidentified) member of this teletubby troika appears, shall we say, less enthusiastic about the whole thing.

Maybe he is afraid the dock is going to collapse, especially if John Baird decides to start jumping up and down?

Je me souviens

Another good one from GABLE.

Dogan? Dougan? Doghan?

Who knows how to spell this word, which I have never seen on paper, only heard spoken. And I have no idea where I picked it up. Childhood acquaintances? My dad or grandfather (northern Ontario Presbyterians)?

I think it means "Catholic", but it might mean "Irish Catholic".

I have tried it out in my multicultural corporate work environment and a couple of the small-town Ontario types looked up sharply, but that was it.

I asked them about it later (one a 25 year old girl, the other a grizzled 50-year old ex-paratrooper) and while neither could explain how they knew this 'epithet', they both professed to some surprise when this word from Ontario's cold, intolerant Orange past popped up in the middle of a meeting. (Or at least that was how I interpreted what they were saying.)

It is little social experiments like this that make corporate life bearable. The problem is I still can't find anything on the origins/usage of the word 'dogan'.

Enquiring minds need to know!

UPDATE
It occurs to me that this sort of thing has happened to me before, when, as a dinner guest, I referred to the pointy fat-and-gristle part at the rear-end of the roast chicken as "the Pope's Nose".

Doesn't everyone call it that?

Negroes need not apply

An interesting graphic appeared above the fold on the front page of the print edition of the Globe and Mail today, accompanying the article "Tories target specific ethnic voters".

Since the Globe is run by a bunch of cheapskates, no online version of the graphic (a photo of a slide lifted from a Conservative party campaign document entitled Building Bridges with Ethnic Communities and New Canadians) is available. So, instead, I have used my encyclopaedic knowledge of html to reproduce the slide as best I can:

A Sample Outreach Strategy - Thornhill

• Total population - 116,640
  
• Visible minorities - 33,675 (29 %)
  
  • Chinese 12,610
    
  • South Asian 6,595
    
  • Black 2,665
    
  • Filipino 2,530
    
  • West Asian 2,355
    
  • Korean 2,660
    
  
  
• 79% of visible minorities are viewed as CPC accessible communities
  

Interesting, n'est-ce pas?

All the minorities listed in this breakdown were bolded, except the black community. They seem to be the only community that isn't viewed as 'CPC accessible communities'.

Good for them! My problem is with the other minorities. Will they understand that the CPC's grand old traditions of intolerance and xenophobia run deep, way back to their Reform roots, and that these 'accessible communities' are only being wooed on tactical grounds?

I have met John Tory, Mr. Harper, and you are no John Tory.

If the Conservative Party of Canada does achieve a majority in parliament, these accessible minorities will soon see the true colours of the flat-earthers they helped elect.

Allah help those accessible minorities then! (I see 'West Asians' are one of the targeted groups, presumably because of their reputed intolerance for homosexuals and other deviants.)

Harper of Afghanistan

By MacKAY, lampooning Lawrence of Arabia, perhaps the best movie of all time. Liberated from the website of this is just to say.

Note how MacKAY has caught Harper's undead-like complexion. It is almost waxy in its iridescence.

The NDP wins a seat in Quebec!

For the first time ever, as far as I know, the NDP has won a seat in Quebec.

Outremont, in the classy (meaning rich people of all races,creeds, and colours) part of Montreal, habitually votes Liberal.

This is good news from the perspective of a progressive person, and is well overdue. I have always wondered why the NDP didn't have a more significant presence in Quebec since Quebec's societal values (at least since the Quiet Revolution) seem more in tune with the NDP than the Liberals or Conservatives.

My thought is that the NDP is viewed in Quebec as an anglophone party, perhaps because of its prairie antecedents.

Admittedly, Outremont
isn't exactly a hotbed of frenchie separatists, but this is still a big win.

Unfortunately, there is a downside-- this will encourage weasels within the Liberal Party to start their backstabbing now.

That is WRONG. The time for the likes of Michael "Lurch" Ignatieff to start backstabbing is after the next election, if things go poorly.

If they start backstabbing now they are in danger of handing Stephen "Spock" Harper a majority in parliament.

And that, above all, cannot happen!

Highway of Heroes?

In an act of political bravery unmatched in modern times, Premier Dalton McGuinty has announced that a section of Highway 401 is to be renamed the "Highway of Heroes".


What is a hero, anyway? At dictionary.com, the top result for 'hero' is

a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.

Ignoring the sexism explicit in the dictionary.com definition, I still have to wonder what courage, ability, deeds or qualities the fallen soldiers exhibited to warrant being referred to as heroes.

The act of showing up?

When I think of what a hero is, I think of someone who lost their job whistle-blowing government and/or corporate malfeasance, or someone who drowned jumping into a swollen river trying to save a kid, ie. someone who knowingly made a conscious decision to do the right thing, regardless of his or her own probable doom.

While they are all volunteers, news items (no links available) I have read seem to imply that Armed Forces members are eager to serve in Afghanistan because they can increase their income significantly.

Surely, that makes them fallen mercenaries, rather than fallen heroes?

Still, let's be charitable and assume that they weren't there for the cash, but were instead answering the eternal Call of Duty, where young men and women sacrifice their lives for the Greater Good.

To me, they would still seem victims, not heroes. Perhaps that is what heroes really are, not doers of brave deeds but useful PR instruments for recruiting future potential Heroes.

Anyhoo, here are a few suggestions for the renaming that I feel might be more appropriate:


Promenade of the Pawns

Civvie Street (the hard way)

No Life Like It Lane

Being a classy guy, I hesitate to submit:

Suckers' Street

McGuinty should be ashamed, and for all the right reasons...

Conrad Black goes down, but not in a sexual way

Well, not for now at least.

His lawyers will appeal, of course, but it looks like Conrad Black could spend the rest of his life in jail.

I should be experiencing some schadenfreude at this point but I am not. Instead I just feel sad for the pompous old coot.

Punishment-wise, I think it would be just, as well as entertaining (not to mention edifying), to see him horsewhipped through the streets, as this is something he once wished on Linda McQuaig, rather than jailing him.

After all, he only did anything a typical rich Ayn Rand-style loudmouth would do, ie. screw his shareholders-- But hard-time in one of the Great Satan's medium security prisons? Unless he gets accepted into the Aryan Brotherhood, I don't like his chances...

(Maybe he will be able to buy off his potential assailants with gold kruggerands, like George Bluth Sr. did in Arrested Development?)

As much of a blowhard as Black is, I don't think he, or anyone for that matter, deserves that...

It is the difference between rehabilitation and punishment. If he is to be punished, then a good public whipping seems a lot more honest and straight-forward.

Conservative Party of Canada: intellectual property thieves?

Take a look at the logo on the bus photographed above and compare it to the logo on the NASCAR photo in my previous posting. Notice any thing peculiar? I did.

Whilst taking the air along the promenade at Queen's Quay yesterday, a couple of buses from Coach Canada whizzed by me.

At first glance, I thought that the knuckle-draggers were in town, so similar to Coach Canada's logo is the logo for the Conservative party. You be the judge. Are the Conservatives copyright infringers?

Coach Canada:


Conservative Party of Canada:


It seems to me that Coach Canada has the basis for legal action. Their logo has been around a lot longer than that of the CPC!

If I didn't know better, I would avoid Coach Canada and go elsewhere with my intra-city travel business, making the assumption that Coach Canada is some sort of 'Young Conservative' travel service.

Take a good look at that bus photo. Would *you* seriously approach it and ask the driver where he is headed, knowing the Conservative attitude to public transport? No.

I did chat with the driver of the photographed bus. He was very genial but stated that no one at work and the like, AFAHK, had noticed the similarities between the two logos.

The result of this shameless theft of intellectual property? Lost revenue. I am thinking of alerting their management to this threat to stockholder value, and I encourage others to do so as well.

The Conservatives burnish their Global Warming credentials

I am sure everyone remembers how, after the Liberals selected Dion as their leader, the Conservatives were all aflutter, claiming that 'green' issues have always been top priority for them.

How have they decided to keep this claim of green-friendliness fresh for the public? Sponsor a NASCAR team, of course.

From the Edmonton Journal:

First, they took aim at Canadians who can't live without their Tim Hortons "double-doubles."

Now the federal Conservatives are going after the segment of the population that loves the smell of burning rubber.

The Conservative party has shifted its advertising strategy into a new gear and slapped the party logo on a NASCAR stock-racing car.


The big blue Conservative "C" made its debut Sunday on the hood and front side panels of car 29 of the Canadian Tire NASCAR series, the Canadian offshoot of the popular U.S. stock-racing circuit.

"This is just part of the ongoing process of reaching out to potential Conservative voters," said a senior party official, who spoke on condition of anonymity.

Ah yes, that elusive "moron" demographic. But I thought that the Conservatives had the moron vote already. Isn't it kind of like preaching to the choir?

"Get this fruit out of the sun!"

The above quote is from Ed "Al Bundy" O'Neill in John From Cincinnati, a new drama on HBO created by David Milch.

A tiny minority of us are familiar with Milch by way of his creation Deadwood, the best TV show ever in this or any other human-conceivable universe (or at least those human-conceivable universes that understand english).

It looks like Deadwood is not going to be given some sort of wrap-up, as HBO promised. Not even the pathetic three final episodes they had announced.

So why would anyone trust that HBO won't screw the fans of John From Cincinnati, just like they did the fans of Deadwood?

The answer is: there is no guarantee.


I guess if David Milch trusts HBO enough to go with them again, we should too.


All we can do, as loyal viewers (albeit non-paying loyal viewers) is enjoy the moment. (Which may, in fact, be the biggest philosophical message behind this new series...)

In the show, when he yells "Get this fruit out of the sun!", Al Bundy has just prevented Barry ("the fairy") from killing himself in the parking lot of a run-down motel, and is presumably requesting some help in removing Barry, sprawled and weepy, from the middle of the lot.

It was appalling, at the time, but today at work, thinking it over, connecting the previous bits of dialogue, I came to the conclusion that it was over-the-top hilarious.

But I had to work for it. Now that is comedy!

This episode, the pilot, basically, is viewable online at the HBO site. (UPDATE (07/06/14): the link to the entire show has been removed, and the only videos available now are the trailers. Boo! That's the HBO I know.)

Added bonus: "Johnny Appleseed" by Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros appears to be the theme song for John From Cincinnati. When I started playing the episode, and "Johnny Appleseed" came on, I thought I had made a mistake and fired up my playlist since I had been listening to that very tune directly before!

After 7-11, I don't believe in coincidences. Therefore, I posit that SpaceGodJehovah2000 was giving me a message by making Milch choose that particular song for that particular TV show, so that I would hear it at the particular time I did.

This experience has made me call into question my atheism.

I can hardly wait til next week's episode! SpaceGodJehovah2000 might have more messages for me.

Is that a Flag lapel pin?

Why yes, yes it is.

What was 'Spock' thinking? Was he trying to make sure that Sarkozy remembered which country his visitor was from? If so, it was a very thoughtful gesture.

Still, I imagine Russell Smith would say something sartorially judgemental like: 'A well dressed man should avoid wearing lapel jewellery during the day unless, of course, he is dressed in formal military attire'.

I have not watched Question Period for a while, so I was unaware that Spock has taken to wearing Flag-inspired jewellery next to his heart, à la George W. Bush.

It is just another example of how this Prime Minister seems to be slavishly aping some of the most hilarious pretensions of the Bush administration. Other examples that I can think of, off the top of my head: hostility to the main stream media, no photos of coffins arriving from Afghanistan, no flags at half-mast, no off-the-cuff comments from Conservative MPs, requiring people to stand when the Great Leader enters a room, and the belief that a lie, told often enough, will be accepted as fact.

I really don't understand what the pin is supposed to accomplish, aside from making him look like a Republican ball-cupper. Is it an appeal to the "Tim Hortons demographic"?

I just don't get it.

Furthermore!

Take a close look at Harper's left hand. Its sausage-fingered, clammy-looking, fishbelly-whiteness (no makeup there) makes me think that Harper might in fact be a revenant. Wouldn't that be a rich one!

And it would explain A LOT! Steven Harper, Prime Minister and one of the undead...

The fact that Sarkozy is so (apparently) enthusiastically shaking Spock's other clammy, sweaty, corpse-like piece of meat is proof to me that Sarkozy has the makings of a truly effective politician.

Finally, Spock's ambivalent expression seems to express to me that he does not, in fact, like being touched. (But, then again, who really does when the sun is still "under the yardarm"?)