Monday, August 31, 2009

I’m going to take a whine-free break this time to say good bye to my father-in-law.

James Carruthers (Jim) Firth died peacefully in his sleep on August 11, three quarters of the way through his 92nd year, “a good run” as one of my friends said on hearing the news.

Jim was, in every positive sense of the word, a gentleman. Oh, he had his moments – I know that his habit of referring to women service people he encountered, such as an overly bureaucratic bank teller, as “the little girl at the counter” (despite her being well into adulthood) could cause a roundtable sucking in of breath when he told his stories at the dinner table – but he was a very great gentleman, and we were the only ones who would ever hear the “little girl” reference.

A 90th birthday commemorative memories album that his daughter Mary prepared with all our input features a cover image of him lounging casually on a cottage bench at the family’s cottage in the Muskokas looking every inch the cocky Harvard MBA student he would one day be. It was a degree that the Government of Canada considered important enough to decline his offer to enlist in the army in WWII. Instead, they told him to finish his Harvard MBA, then come to Ottawa where he served in the Department of Finance helping to keep a wary government eye out for would-be profiteers.

Another photo in the album shows him as a young boy swathed in bandages and as the memories of the injuries that were responsible for his glum look at the photographer would fade, I’m pretty sure that, much, much later he was bragging when he told us he was one of Hamilton’s early victims of a sound clocking from a Model T Ford when he ran smack into it after simply turning his wagon without the “shoulder check” drilled into those of who learned to drive in Ontario.
(Of equal import to him when he’d tell us that story was making sure we knew he’d been treated by a Dr. Payne.)

He still liked to dress for dinner and had many happy occasions hosting family and friends at a meal at his beloved Hamilton Golf and Country Club (HGCC) in Ancaster, Ontario, where he was once President and remained a member for more than 70 years! Club dinners were legendary when set against an occasion like Easter or Thanksgiving and I will probably spend my life searching for a butter tart that even comes close to the one that came from that Club’s baker. Leslie’s and my wedding reception dinner was held at the Club in 1982, a small but wonderful gathering of family and close friends.

Jim also served for a long time as a member and Chairman of the Club’s tree committee (they take their trees really seriously at HGCC) and much of the course’s visually stunning presentation today owes its beauty to the careful work done by that committee under his direction. Even when close to his last year of life, he was able to take my brother-in-law Bob, his son Morgan (Jim’s grandson) and myself around the course
and give us a thorough verbal history of many of the more prominent trees on the course, including why they were placed where they were placed. (“These willows trap hooks or slices that might otherwise soar into the adjoining fairway.” “This one blocks the direct afternoon sunlight and helps keep that green from drying out.” “You can’t see the green from here but just aim straight for that maple and you’ll land in perfect position for your next shot.”)

There are worse legacies than having your memory live on in the beauty of dozens of meticulously selected and carefully cared-for trees.

In his working life, Jim slid perfectly into the family business when he graduated. Firth Brothers Clothing on Hughson Street and its retail store, Fashion Craft, were Hamilton institutions for decades. After the business of manufacturing clothing in North America succumbed to the tide of cheap imports, Jim kept a thriving tailoring business going under the name “The Alteration Shop” and it’s safe to say there weren’t many well-uniformed police force members, firefighters, or ambulance crew members in southern Ontario who for years didn’t owe their well-turned out working appearance to their contracts with The Alteration Shop. He also had a good working relationship with Ottawa’s GL (George) Myles Ltd, known throughout the region for its quality men’s wear, and also tailored many fine specialty military dress uniforms of the types worn by officers to mess dinners. His clothing-related library was a wonderful place to browse if your interest was military garb through the ages.

Jim kept working beyond his 70s into his 80s. He was a man who’d clearly found something he loved to do and quality tailoring – which didn’t require heavy lifting – was a vocation easily carried well into years where many other jobs simply cannot be performed by an age-limited body.

Jim’s wife, Kay, was one trigger for Jim’s exposure to home computing. Kay was a volunteer Brailler for the Canadian National Institute for the Blind and one of Apple’s very early applications was to enable the adaptation of its IIe desktop PCs to Brailling. The heavy steel Perkins Brailler was retired shortly after Kay began sending her work to the CNIB on disk, rather than on stacks of the heavy Brailling paper.
PHOTO: Jim and Kay, a couple whose charm and obvious grace would have given any “Brangelina” of the day a serious run for their money.

And it wasn’ t long before Jim began to explore other applications for a device that some people his age would have considered unnecessary at best, and a pain to have to learn at worst.

Before long, Jim was managing his finances electronically, playing virtual bridge with players around the world and routinely e-mailing us digital photos he’d snapped on many of his afternoon drives around the more picturesque parts of his southern Ontario stomping grounds.

He kept himself busy with new ideas pretty much to the end. When two hip replacements forced him to adapt his golf game to accommodate an inability to bend over and place the ball on a tee, he designed a tee that was a miniature ramp up which he’d simply roll his ball using a club face. If the club’s swing destroyed his homemade mini-ramp, it didn’t matter because he’d made it with a degradable material that a few rains or waterings would simply dissolve into the grass.

When managing a house and enormous treed yard became too much for him, he had been in his retirement residence for barely a couple days when he accidentally tipped over a round-bottomed single-serving coffee carafe at breakfast one morning. He decided he was going to talk to someone about getting some sense into hot-fluid glassware design for seniors. (As he summed it up: “A round bottomed coffee carafe for seniors? Come ON!”)

He also never abandoned computing. Near the end, he occasionally would profess being mildly frustrated when his gradually failing vision rendered the keys themselves difficult to read. Software enabled onscreen text to be hugely magnified, so that at least wasn’t an issue. And so he kept sending messages to us – in 48-point Arial!

Jim was an early riser, so he tended to turn in early. Bedtime for him was typically about 9 or 9:30 at night. He would sigh, look around, say, “Oh boy”; then he’d push himself up from his chair and off he’d go. It was such a ritual that everyone in his family simply doesn’t talk about bedtime. To this day, to us, the end of the day is “Oh boy” time.

The aging human body has its limitations, one of which physicians seem to call a “biological wall”, the point that we all come to eventually if an accident or disease doesn’t get us first. It’s not a precise age; it’s different for everybody, but it is as inevitable as... well, as death. The body’s cells simply stop regenerating, but they do go on dying. If we’re very, very lucky, we’ll pass away quietly in our sleep. Jim’s body might subconsciously have written just such a script for him – an unplanned passing, no doubt, but thankfully painless – at least for him.


PHOTOS: Jim’s pride and joy – his four daughters, Alison, Mary and twins Leslie and Lindsay. In the first photo, Mary (L) and Alison (R) bookend Leslie (second from L) and Lindsay. In the second photo, Leslie and Lindsay are in their late teens or very early 20s, visiting with Alison in Mary’s Ottawa apartment. (L-R: Leslie, Mary, Lindsay, Alison)



As those of us he left behind work our way through the pain of losing him, I imagine the thoughts we’ll come to treasure most are the life lessons he passed along simply by sharing his most gentlemanly life with us. His was very much a generous life of the Golden Rule – that which you did for others was only what you would wish done for you. Over the course of his near-92 years, he built an enormous reservoir of lifelong friends. Several are still around to share in the memories of having known him (as two so willingly did at the small gathering we shared in his house after he died) and in the grieving of his loss.



PHOTO: Jim with two of his grandchildren, Morgan – in his lap – and Katie

I’d love to have shared even just a few more “oh boy” evenings with Jim. And yet there really was nothing left to be done, or said. He passed away knowing that his immediate family were close to each other – and close to him. And while I will go on missing him greatly, I know his surviving “grils” and their husbands – me, Bob and Dave – can eventually take real comfort in the complete absence of regret that anything might have remained undone or unsaid. There’s nothing at all under either of those headings.

Except good bye.

Good bye, Jim.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Your federal government – showing the way when it comes to a new burst of common sense in spending:

Recently I received the following e-mailed message at work. It had been sent to our entire branch – that’d be approximately 400 employees who all work in some aspect of our department’s public affairs. (Oh, for people outside the vast bureaucratic reserve that is Acronyms on the Rideau, “ADMO” is “Assistant Deputy Minister’s Office” a post that pretty much sits two steps below the Minister:

“For those who use the ADMO kitchen for dishes clean up, we're running out of dish soap.

There's a container (coffee cup) on the counter to leave a contribution for the next bottle. Someone will be purchasing soap tonight. Please remember to leave a contribution next time you're making use of the kitchen. This should be a shared cost; not one individual's.

Thanks for your consideration,"

[Name expunged for reasons of mercy]

= = =

Well being me, I immediately cyber-roared off to Treasury Board Secretariat’s publicly accessible website and found the information about just how much senior public servants make. Then I sent this “Forward / Reply” to a current colleague who is also my former supervisor:

"I have a suggestion:

Current and Recommended Cash Compensation for the EX and DM Groups Level
Current 2008-2009 / Recommended 2009-2010

EX-1 115,400 / 117,200
EX-2 129,400 / 131,400
EX-3 144,800 / 147,000
EX-4 166,200 / 168,700
EX-5 186,200 / 189,000
DM-1 208,300 / 211,500
DM-2 239,600 / 243,200
DM-3 268,300 / 272,400
DM-4 300,400 / 305,000
(Source: Treasury Board of Canada Secretariat / Advisory Committee on Senior Level Retention and Compensation / April 29, 2009)

Maybe the ADM doesn't actually lower him / herself to _doing_ the dishes, but perhaps he / she could be the source of the cash to pay for his / her office kitchen dish soap instead of sending out a department-wide memo begging for loose change from the staff.

Just an idea. (Feel free to circulate this idea -- maybe even to the ADMO.)"


= = =

The ways of the censor are mysterious indeed.

Recently I succumbed to an appeal by iTunes to purchase a fairly large collection of singles from the 70s, years when I was wallowing in pop music and buying a lot of records in both single (45 rpm) and long-playing (LP / 33 1/3 rpm) format.

As the song titles rolled by throughout the somewhat lengthy download process, I noticed that one seemed to have tripped the censorship trigger, because I was told by iTunes that I had just acquired “Rock ‘n’ Roll H******e Koo”, by Rick Derringer.

For those loyal readers who might not have been awash in AM radio in the 1970s, the song in question is “Rock ‘n’ Roll Hootchie Koo”, which of course made me wonder why either the expunged “ootchi”, or the fully reconstituted “Kootchie” was deemed too offensive to make its way onto iTunes’ titles list.

Google offered some help, and provided me with a little education in the process. “Your Dictionary.com”, or anyone else for that matter, refused to recognize it as a stand-alone word. But as one half of the phrase “hootchie-kootchie” (alternatively, “hootchy-kootchy”), the online dictionary tells us it means, “a kind of erotic performance somewhat like the belly dance, as formerly performed at carnivals, etc.”

Chicago bluesman Willie Dixon (1915 – 1992) certainly knew of that derivation, even with a flipped gender. Here are a few lines from his “Hootchie-Kootchie Man”, as performed a musical generation or so later by the hard-rocking band, Steppenwolf, fronted by Canadian John Kay:

“Yeah, you know I'm here
And everybody knows I'm here;
I'm your Hootchie-Kootchie man.
Oh Lord, Everybody knows I'm here.

I got a black cat bone
Lord; I got a mojo too.
I got little John, the conquered,
Oh baby, I'm gonna mess with you.
I'm gonna grab those pretty women;
I'm gonna grab 'em by the hand.
You know, the whole wide world gonna know
Oh Lord, I'm your Hootchie-Koochie man.
Yes, you know I'm here;
Everybody knows I'm here.”


And of course, had iTunes just left it alone, there likely would not now be a whole new generation of a growing number of “solid gold rock” music fans who are forever after going to snicker whenever Grandpa leans over to tickle grandchild under the chin and utter that immortal grandpa-ism: “Ootchie-kootchie-kootchie-koo”.

Baby Duck – soon to be a linguistics degree program all by itself.

= = =

BD regulars will recall not too long ago when I described the paper “Eye of Sauron” cutout that Katie put together for me so I could paste it over my laptop’s resident video camera and thus avoid having my (now much regretted) Spice Girls tattoo broadcast all over that Internet thingie.

Katie’s next-gen eyeroll was more patronizing than sympathetic but I did get an Eye of Sauron lens block out of it.

Well hoo hah! Let me tell you who gets the last laugh on this one! Leslie recently acquired a computer program called “Anyplace” that allows her to link her computer to any computer she wants through the simple expedient of programming the respective IP addresses into both computers and triggering whatever has to be triggered to effectively “notify” both machines – or however many are in the loop – that the requisite permissions have been extended.

She did this because occasionally her Dad has experienced a computer problem and sometimes is not quite sure how he got there. So what Anytime enables her to do is call up her Dad’s computer (or anyone’s computer with the embedded permissions) and troubleshoot it from wherever she happens to be. In other words, she has full access to all the program commands on her Dad’s computer.

Before she did this, she installed it on my laptop to test it out.

It worked.

So hypothetically speaking (Lord I hope so!), were I to one day discover that my Eye of Sauron camera block is gone, I’d better be damned sure that Sporty, Baby, Scary, Ginger and... whoever the hell the 5th Spice is – Chunky? Oh no, wait, how could I have forgotten Ms Beckham / Posh? – are nip-and-tucked out of sight or I might just as well Google “Embarrassing Spice Girl tattoo” and there’ll I’ll be. Or they’ll be.


Digitally and pneumatically enhanced imagery aside, with my corpus as an easel, I assure you it won't be pretty!

My point is that, so long as evil programs such as Anyplace are out there, the Eye of Sauron lens block ain’t such a dumb idea after all.

= = =

Meanwhile, into the "News releases best left unexplored" bin one not-too-long-ago-afternoon went:

“Application Forms for Government of Canada Slaughter Improvement Program Now
Available

OTTAWA, ONTARIO--(Marketwire - July 9, 2009) - The Honourable Jean-Pierre Blackburn, Minister of National Revenue and Minister of State (Agriculture) is encouraging all potential applicants to apply for the new federal Slaughter Improvement Program (SIP). The three-year, $50-million program is now accepting applications. ‘The Slaughter Improvement Program - a commitment made in Canada's Economic Action Plan - is now up and running,’ said Minister Blackburn.”


Man I'll bet it was tough for his communications people to come up with a quote to make that sound like good news.

= = =

Up next – a mercifully meandering one-off overview of three and a half days in Chicago. (Willis Tower be damned! You’ll always be the Sears.)

Until la prochaine.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Sentences to which I wish the reporter had given a few seconds of extra thought before hitting “Save” (Number 1 in a series):

“Thefts from feminine-hygiene dispensers have been spotty in the past, she said.”

– in an MSU StateNews story / June 16, about an unusual rash – uh sorry... series – of thefts on the campus of Michigan State University).

= = = = = =

Another thing I suspect the speaker wishes he had thought about. (Number 2 in a series):

A Globe and Mail story on June 20 described a coming judicial hearing at which Canada’s laws on prostitution are expected to be at the centre of an intense debate.

The story’s focus was a recent appeal by a coalition of religious groups seeking to be granted something called “intervenor” status at the hearings. The group’s spokesman and lawyer, Ranjan Agarwal, however, would probably like to ask for a verbal “mulligan” after he tried to assure a Toronto judge that his clients have no intention of trying to derail the process by offering nothing more than a series of diatribes on the immorality of prostitution. On the contrary, he said, “What my clients seek to do is simply stand up after five days of hearings and make oral submissions.”

= = = = = =

Some random notes on the coverage attending the death of Michael Jackson. (Oh c’mon, surely you knew I wasn’t going to say nothing about it!)

You just know, I’m afraid, that we are on our way to a tabloid-style ghoulish media orgy the likes of which hasn’t been seen since Elvis Presley died. Already, there are stories swirling around Mr Jackson’s personal physician and his (to put it delicately) lack of availability in the hours immediately following Jackson’s death. The Jackson family, meanwhile (his surviving siblings and parents, not his children) are rumoured to be seeking an “independent autopsy”. (Which begs the question, what is a partisan autopsy? And do you want to know?)

But even in the early hours of the post mortem period, the endless media post mortem has not been without its humour. The morning after, a former Jackson lawyer was already waxing indignant about what he believed to be the cause of death, and in a clip heard on CBC radio spluttered his certainty that Jackson was the victim of his doctors’ enthusiastic overprovision of prescription drugs, “And I just knew that one day Michael Jackson was going to wake up dead and on that day, I was not going to keep silent any longer.”

Keep silent, given the triggering event of a dead man waking up? I should think not.

Meanwhile, in one of those interviews that made me clap my hands delightedly, again on the day after Jackson’s death a BBC reporter from his home studio in London was speaking to a reporter just outside the Jacksons’ California home. The studio anchor was obviously wrapped up in his own soaring rhetoric as he speculated on the likelihood of an excessive consumption of prescription drugs, quoting physicians who apparently were authorities on overusing prescription drugs, and then finally winding down to a halt. There followed a silence of a good five to ten seconds – an eternity in airspace time. Then the California reporter piped up, “And was there a question in there, Peter?”

(There hadn’t been and it was wonderful to see an anchor so rhapsodized by what he imagined to be own self-importance one second get so jarring a reminder of his role – to ask questions – in the very next second.)

As Friday’s media Jackson wallow unfolded around the world, the thought occurred to me that the family of Farrah Fawcett-Majors must have sacrificed a goat in gratitude as they watched the Multitudinous Media Morbidity Militia hurriedly pack up their equipment from the late Angel’s front lawn and hasten over to the LA hospital even as Jackson’s body was being helicoptered in for its lengthy post-passing analysis.

Just to inject a note of legitimacy here... I just re-watched the music video for “Thriller” and it is a damned fine piece of entertainment. When you place it in its context – contrasting it to everything that came before, and comparing it to everything that followed – you swiftly realize just what an “ELE” (Extinction Level Event) it was for those who would continue to try to model themselves only on its predecessors. And you realize too, just how awful the subsequent Thriller wannabees, without exception, have been.

To paraphrase William Holden when he buried “Thompson” in the opening scenes of “Bridge on the River Kwai”: Rest in peace, Mr J. God knows you found little enough of it while you were alive.

= = =

Spam filters? SPAM FILTERS??? Here’s what we theenk of your steenkin’ spam filters! Here’s the title of a message that got by my usually efficient spam filter to wind up in my in-box:

“Girls: Here’s the ultimate or gasmic device ever!”

So apparently, girls... You can have “ultimate” or you can have “gasmic”, but you can’t have both. I must admit my first thought was that the idea of a device to help reduce late night heartburn might actually be worth a look. But then my morning coffee kicked in and suddenly all was clear. It wasn’t about a gastric device after all.

= = =

If you’re looking for evidence of just how drastically the economic times have changed, you need look no further than the latest information about the employer’s “final offer” in the last-ditch negotiations underway between the management and union of the Globe and Mail:

“The union, which represents 450 workers at the national paper, said the paper's offer included pension benefits cuts of up to 50 percent; salary reductions in some wage categories; a general two-year wage freeze for all employees; longer work days and a longer work week.” (Reported by Reuters.ca June 28)

Phew! Good thing they didn’t seriously entertain those shabby earlier offers. Clearly this demonstrates to trade unions just how much more generous a company will become over time.

= = =

Fun with quotes:

1. Blogger "Canadian Cynic" describes the lens (June 21) through which to view a couple quotes he posted recently. In the process, he taps a well-known cultural reference (“well-known” if you saw the movie “Deliverance”) to give us his opinion of a blogger known as “Raphael Alexander”:

"Holding true to its motto of misrepresenting all the news that's fit to print, the [National] Post saves a few bucks by dipping into its pool of excitable, wanky bloggers to tab the one known as 'Raphael Alexander', who does to journalism what a couple of banjo players once did to Ned Beatty."

2."Dawg's Blawg" author John Baglow writes (June 21) about McGill University's Margaret Somerville, a specialist on bioethics:

"This time she's on about stem cell research and the sacredness of the embryo. (The article is helpfully illustrated with pictures of fully-formed fetuses in their eighth or ninth month, but in fairness, that's not Somerville's fault.) 'We are all ex-embryos,' she says, in her sloppy way. We are, of course, all pre-corpses, too. That might lead some to draw quite novel conclusions about the sacredness of human life. No matter."

3. I remember when the Rolling Stones avoided getting into all kinds of hot water because Ed Sullivan told them they would not be able to sing the chorus lyric to their hit, "Let's Spend the Night Together" on his show. They relented and, for the sake of ensnaring the multi-million number of eyes in the typical Sullivan audience, sang it as "Let's Spend Some Time Together".

I must admit that, when I read the following, I realized that I kind of miss those days:

"Billed as a tribute to New York, Gaga began the performance trapped inside a fake subway car - which she later exploded with a stick of faux dynamite - and followed with a raunchy setpiece that featured fake police officers (they later stripped), gyrating, leather-clad dancers and finished with Gaga posing with sparklers shooting from her bustier." (A summary of Lady Gaga's "music" performance at this year's Much Music Video Awards. Canadian Press, June 22)

Isn’t it nice to read about a contemporary performer who chooses to focus on her music, instead of pushing it to a distant and forgotten second place behind a visual orgy of cheesy showmanship and spurious titillation?

= = =

So how long did it take me to pour out our France travel yarn – 127 months or so?

Well I just got a message from another BD regular who himself has just returned from a three-week overseas trip – and here’s what he had to say about his family’s experience, which in three short paragraphs is every bit as interesting as my travel diary was. (Certainly it’s more tightly written!):

“Hello World,

The family did the European trek from May 2 to May 24. Six countries in three weeks. (England-London only, France – Paris and Strasbourg, northern Italy, southern Germany, part of Austria and Prague in the Czech Republic). Wow, the trip was fantastic, the weather great, and not that many tourists. Too many highlights to put into this communication. Being history buffs, we did the following: War Cabinet Rooms and Churchill Museum in London, Versailles – finally saw the Hall of Mirrors, toured The Maginot Line, visited Dachau (Hitler’s 1st concentration camp), was overwhelmed by The Eagle’s Nest (Hitler’s Tea House) in Bavaria, and Prague was amazing.

My son wanted to go to a football match, so we went to see AC Milan versus Udinese in Udine, Italy – great atmosphere. My daughter wanted to spend time at the ocean, so we went to Duino, Italy on the north Adriatic Sea. Some interesting sights there.

Back to reality now. Instead of looking at masterpieces in The Louvre, I am staring at a mountain of files and paperwork in my office.”


= = = = =

And finally this go round, I know that SPAM is a pretty easy shot, but I must admit this one, which I received just as this BD update was being put to bed, is in a class all by itself. It opened to a beautiful graphic – identifying it as coming from the “Main Bodies” division of the “United Nations System of Organizations”, and then got right down to business. As you will see, they were writing to advise me that after an extraordinary board meeting (hey, it was six months long) they have been authorized to tell me that, apparently, I can pretty much retire!

UNITED NATIONS (UNITED NATIONS ASSISTED SCHEME) DIRECTORATE OF INTERNATIONAL PAYMENT AND TRANSFERS UNITED NATIONS LIASION OFFICE
LONDON UNITED KINGDOM WIRE TRANSFER/AUDIT UNIT
Our Ref: WB/NF/UN/XX027
Cell PHONE: +448715031631
Home +44 7024031962

This is to officially inform you that we have been having a meeting for the passed 6 months that ended 3 days ago with the UNITED NATIONS BOARD OF TRUSTEES AND AUDITORS with new secretary to the United Nation Mr. Ban Ki-moon.

This email is to all the people that have been scammed in any part of the world, the UNITED NATIONS have agreed to compensate them with the sum of US$500,000,00 Dollars each. This includes every contractors that may have not received their contract sum and people that have had an unfinished transaction or international businesses that failed due to Government problems etc.

We found your name in our list and that is why we are contacting you, these have been agreed upon and have been signed.

You are advised to contact the United Nation Agent Mr. Jim Ovia immediately for your Cheque/International Bank Draft of USD$500,000.00. These funds are in a Bank Draft for security purpose. He will send it to you through Courier Services and you can clear it in any bank of your choice.

Therefore, you should send him your full Name and telephone number/your correct mailing address where he will send the bank draft to you. Contact Mr. Jim Ovia the United Nation agent
immediately for your Cheque:

Person to Contact Mr. Jim Ovia
Emails: mr.jimovia01@sify.com
Phone:

Thanks and God bless you and your family. Hoping to hear from you as soon as you cash your Bank Draft. Making the world a better place.

MY BEST REGARDS.

Congratulations in advance.

Mr. Kofi Anan And
New Secretary to
The United Nation.
http://www.un.org/


It concluded with a “grip and grin” photo of “Mr Kofi Anan And New Secretary to the United Nation”.

Needless to say, I was delighted to discover that the UN seems suddenly to have acquired the apparent net worth of every profit-making institution on the face of the earth, including the past few days of Michael Jackson song and album sales. Meanwhile, I eagerly await the news that “US $500,000,00 Dollars” has been transferred to my account in compensation for having had to endure the endless bombardment of... well, frankly, of letters exactly like this.... since the Internet began.

After all, that’s why I wired them the $3,500 (Canadian) “transfer fee”, I’m sure my half million dollars’ll arrive any day now...

Yep... any day now.

Meanwhile: 2000 km this season already, and counting!



A la next time.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

My D-Day story:

June 6 this year in our region was a stunningly beautiful, warm sunlit day, so I was out chugging about on the Triumph and actually got as far as the Tim Horton’s in Perth. After parking the bike, I stopped for a few minutes to chat with another fellow who had also parked his bike and was standing outside sipping his coffee. I noticed he was wearing an olive drab t-shirt on which was emblazoned a logo and phrase, “C.A.V. : Canadian Army Veteran”. He told me he was part of a whole group of veterans from Trenton – their club was called the “Juno” Group, in fact – and his own service included Afghanistan and Bosnia.

Elsewhere in the parking lot, someone else had parked a pick-up truck with a trailer on which he was towing a magnificently restored 1946 version of one of the motorized workhorses of WWII – the Willys Jeep.
(No, I’m not so attuned to the Willys that I can pinpoint the year of manufacture – it had a small plaque mounted on its dashboard to inform admirers of this fact.) (Photo: www.dyna.co.za)

Anyway, I opened my conversation by asking if it was someone else in his group who was responsible for the restoration. He replied no, but he had no doubt it was en route to the same destination to which he was bound – the D-Day commemoration at the Canadian military cemetery in Ottawa. At which point he pointed just down the highway where a string of about 15 enormous motorcycles was just in the process of swinging into the Petro-Canada station beside the Tim Horton’s to gas up. “There’s the rest of my group now,” he said.

At this moment, a gnarled old guy in a rumpled cowboy hat stepped out the exit of Tim Horton’s and, noticing two heads of thoroughly greyed hair atop all the biker gear we were wearing, came over and made a mock, “Ooooo... bad bikers” introduction, followed by a laugh.

He joined in our chit chat. After discovering that the fellow I was talking to was a veteran, he tapped himself in the chest and said, “Well I am too... but I was with all those ‘killers’ that your side fought”, which suddenly brought to the fore that his accent was indeed clearly German. “Not in the war... after,” he added. “But in 1943, I was 7 and living in Hamburg.”

Anyone with more than a passing familiarity of WWII history knows that Hamburg in mid-war was one of the unfortunate cities in Germany (along with Cologne, Dresden, Nuremberg) to suffer sustained annihilation-level allied bombing, on one occasion creating a whirlwind of fire so fierce that it actually sucked the oxygen from bomb shelters deep underground, suffocating thousands of the sheltering civilians where they lay.

He told us how, after coming to Canada as a refugee after the war -- and presumably after his service in the German Army -- he had started working a lifetime of whatever jobs he could get. One time, he was hired as a driver to join a half dozen other men whose job it was to go to Pennsylvania and drive a group of cars back to Canada for a used-car dealer who had bought them there because they were rust-free. During an overnight stop on the return trip, the drivers had struck up a conversation and one of them turned out to have been a British Lancaster bomber pilot during the war. “Oh,” our new German friend had said, “What were you doing in July 1943?” The ex-Lancaster pilot thought about it a minute and said, “I was flying night bombing missions over Germany.”

“Ever bomb Hamburg?” our new friend said he'd asked.

“Twice,” replied the pilot.

At this point, I think the C.A.V. guy and I were both thinking that this conversation was on the verge of becoming an account of a short-term acquaintance that took a disastrous turn. But our German raconteur simply stopped for a few seconds, then continued, “So I told him, ‘You know, we almost met in July 1943. We were only 18,000 feet apart.’” And he chuckled. Whatever the intervening 66 years had done deep within, at least on the surface it had left him a punchline.

After a few more minutes, we all shook hands, wished each other well, and went on our three very different ways.

= = =

Why the Internet can sometimes seem to be as stupid as it is amazing... at least to me (Number 1,635,882 in the eternal series)

Not so long ago, I clicked on a link to further explore some topic or other – what it was is irrelevant – and found myself being subjected to an audio version of an old song by Rick “The Little White Man with the Big Black Voice” Astley, a song entitled “Never Gonna Give You Up”. Apparently, I had just been “rick-rolled” or, in the medium in which a title is nothing until it has been even slightly abbreviated, “rick-roll’d”. It’s someone’s idea of an hilarious prank, and there are random places all over the internet that will lead you unexpectedly to either a video or an audio performance of Mr Astley’s catchy little tune. Somewhere out there, someone supposedly laughs mightily whenever this happens. Even if he doesn’t know exactly when it happens. (Cause you just know it’s a “he”.) And according to Wikipedia, it happens a lot – people were unintentionally led to a “rick-rolling” link of the song over 36 million times as at the end of 2008.

Har de har har.

Whatever. If you're interested, Google it. I would never do anything so crass as rick-roll anyone here.

From rick-rolling to bogarting. Any of your online discussions been bogarted yet? As it applies to the internet, there are four pretty much interchangeable interpretations, most of them variations on “bullying” or to use the old 60s descriptor, “losing your cool”. In no particular order, these are: 1. (slang) Excess. There are over two dozen related terms for station? What a bogart!; 2. (slang) One given to excess, whether good or ill; Smith is the writer, director, star and producer. What a bogart!; 3. (slang) An obnoxious, selfish and overbearing person; an attention hog. He walked in, swiped my beer off the table and chugged it. I said “Dude, don’t be a bogart”, but he didn’t care; 4. (slang) A disappointment. Then right in the middle of their best song, the power went out? That’s a bogart. (From Wikipedia, of course.) For some reason, it started out meaning, “For God’s sake, hurry up and get to the point!” because Bogart, you see, (Humphrey, that is) is believed by some of his more passionate fans to take way too long to finish a cigarette whenever he lights up onscreen.

And here’s a term the Internet definitely needed. If you’re a regular, or even an occasional participant in discussion groups on any subject whatsoever, you’ve probably noticed that with the inevitability of night following day, the discussion will eventually heat up and someone will call someone else a fascist, or a Nazi, or Hitler, or peripherally remind everyone how men died in the war to win exactly the freedom that allows you to be a complete jerk, or suggest that your opinions are so full of crap that you probably laughed at the Holocaust. Well believe it or not, there is a name for the rule that describes that argumentative descent: Godwin’s Law. In a nutshell, the law itself is typically worded, with minor variations, this way: “As a Usenet discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches 1.”

The law was first articulated in 1990 by a man named Mike Godwin and, while it originally applied only to the massive discussion web that is Usenet, its use has since widened to include any internet-based discussion, indeed even face-to-face meetings. Like Murphy’s Law, Godwin’s Law has also spawned a number of corollaries, including one that says the first person to descend that low is automatically declared to have lost the argument. There is also a Hollywood variation that says that as a star’s career progresses, eventually he or she inevitably will assume a role that requires wearing a Nazi uniform. And at least one wag, obviously tired of hearing “I call Godwin” invoked whenever a discussion got to that point, coined the alternate accusation: “reductio ad Hitlerum”.

And in a variation that plainly has already been adopted by Canada’s federal Conservative Party, in October 2008 US National Public Radio talk show host Rachel Maddow postulated this corollary: “As the time a liberal candidate is believed to be winning an election or argument increases, the probability that he or she will be labeled communist or socialist approaches 1.” In this country, the “socialist” label has already been flung at Michael Ignatieff by Conservatives from the Prime Minister on down who want nothing to do with implementing standard Employment Insurance eligibility criteria uniformly across the country. I wonder what would happen if someone in the Opposition stood up to respond to the charge by thanking the Conservatives and their “Honourable Member from Godwin”, with no further explanation. At the very least, the speed with which Conservative staffers would leap to their Blackberries would be absolutely heartwarming to watch.

Uppest update of all: As this Baby Duck entry was being “put to bed”, I just happened to read this in a blog called “Searching for Liberty”, generally sited somewhere to the *ahem* right of centre. Talk about timely (Here it is... “reigns” warts and all. You can read through to the end; it’s just a few extra seconds, but if you’re in a hurry, it’s really only the last three lines that matter):

“Thursday, June 4, 2009

Ti-Guy raises an interesting.. and troubling Question.

Most political bloggers have come across Ti-Guy at some point. He (or she) is a regular poster on political blogs, and, of late, has been giving me some grief on some of my thoughts and ideas.. from his (or her)anonymous nom de plume, he (or she) throws thoughts around like Molotov cocktails - often not very directed or precise, but seeking to damage the target against whom they are thrown.

But today, Ti-Guy raised in my mind a very interesting and unsettling thought about what we might expect if this Country were to give the reigns to the liberal left untrammelled.

On BigCityLib, I was engaged in some debate about the effect of libel chill on free speech, and the complicity of our Courts in hampering free political debate.

On my own blog, yesterday, I engaged in a discussion about the need to prevent the Government from being permitted to indoctrinate our children, and my support for Alberta Bill 44, in respecting a parents right to raise children according to their own religious faith.

On both of these positions, I was taken to task by Ti-Guy, and, in posting to my blog yesterday, he called me a hypocrite for taking these two positions. It was at that point, that something crystallized in my mind.

The left is apparently very opposed to two things:

a) Allowing children to be raised with a moral sensibility which is, perhaps, different from that of the Liberal left; and

b) Allowing open and free debate by those who oppose the Liberal left's point of view.

Think about that. Let that sink in for a moment. If they had their way, they would determine what is "politically acceptable", and they would broach no debate or expression which went beyond those boundaries, and, apparently, they would assure that the education of our children regarding what is "politically acceptable" would be assured by government, with no ability for parents to say otherwise.

That was the central goal of Nazi germany. That is the central goal of all fascist dictators. That is not, and cannot be, my Canada.

For clarifying this intention of the Liberal left, I say, thank-you Ti-Guy.”



Sorry, Searching for Liberty, but (a) you lose, and (b) leaping to Godwin’s in the very first post in the thread has to be some kind of record. So congratulations AND condolences.

= =

Here are a couple of headlines and first paragraphs to make you go, “Hmmmm...”:

1. Police: Conn. woman bitten after 'bite me' remark
An analyst at the Connecticut Police Academy says a co-worker responded literally to her "bite me" remark and chomped on her. Former Waterbury police Capt. Francis Woodruff was charged Tuesday with disorderly conduct and released on a promise to appear in court. (Associated Press online / May 27)


2. Think tank pulls copyright reports after admitting plagiarism
[The Conference Board of Canada], One of Canada's most respected research organizations has a black eye after being forced to withdraw three reports on copyright and intellectual property because they contained plagiarized information from a study by a U.S. lobby group for the entertainment industry.
(Globe and Mail online / May 28)

= =

A follow-up footnote. It wasn’t so long ago that I described our (Leslie’s and my) visit to an exhibit of Titanic artifacts during a weekend in Montreal. As a part of that post, I mentioned that the last known survivor of the tragedy was still alive. Sadly, Millvina Dean – who was just two months old when she and her mother made it into one of the lifeboats (she famously being passed in a sack over the rail of the sinking ship) – passed away at a Southampton nursing home on Sunday, May 31 at 97, ironically on the 98th anniversary of Titanic’s official launching. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not the passing of a woman who has no personal memories of the event that carries the weight of significance; it is the passing of the last living direct link to the sinking.

“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”


-- The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

= =

I swap messages regularly with a small but fascinating group of inveterate internet browsers and finders of fascinating things. We call ourselves “The Cabal” because like “The Brain” character of the “Pinky and the Brain” cartoon, we are planning every day how to take over the world. Coincidentally, each of us in the group has at least one daughter, which has led to the occasional intra-cabal tale of one of the latest episodes featuring her / their displays of brilliance. To save time, we introduce such cyber-conversations with, “Here’s the latest from YAGG”. It means “Yet Another Girl Genius”.

So, that long-winded introduction was merely so that you wouldn’t be prompted into scratching your head when I said, “Let me tell you what our household’s YAGG has just come up with.”

Recently, I had a birthday (my tribute to Heinz, if you’re wondering) and received a shiny new laptop computer, carry bag, a fascinating object called a mini-mouse, which is about half the size of a regular mouse, for people like me who still haven’t developed a love for a laptop’s touch pad but don’t want to take up a full-sized mouse’s space in the carry bag either.

At one point in my discovery of its features, I noted that the laptop is also equipped with a webcam, a camera manifest by a lens roughly the size of a housefly’s eye that sits in the top centre portion of my flip-up screen. So I immediately expressed to YAGG that I’d read “somewhere on the internet” about how there are these hackers who can secretly link into your webcam via your internet hookup and, Wham! Bob’s your uncle (brother-in-law in my case, but I digress) suddenly there you are picking your nose all over You Tube. It must be true because I read it online, I argued to a look from YAGG that could be a poster for the generation divide.

Well this birthday, I opened an envelope from her to find what she called a perfect “old guy’s” computer peripheral. She had designed and printed a small image of what looks a lot like the Eye of Sauron from the "Lord of the Rings" movies, and stuck it onto a self-adhesive label. After giving it only the barest of trims (because my screentop frame is slightly narrower than was her sticker) I placed the eye label in a position that will give these webcam hackers nothing but darkness if they ever tap into the backside of my webcam lens. Hah! Score one for me and the EFF!

= = =

So tell us how you really feel!

The Globe and Mail obviously triggered some vigorously expressed reaction to news that appeared on Thursday, June 4. The story was about a federal court judge’s ruling that the Conservatives have broken just about every rule in the book when it comes to protecting the rights of a Canadian who has pretty much lived in the Canadian embassy in Khartoum, Sudan under asylum. The government has steadfastly maintained that Abousfian Abdelrazik is a “threat to Canada” because his name appears on an old Bush-era US terrorist blacklist that alleges he has al-Qaeda connections, despite the fact that neither the RCMP nor CSIS could find a shred of supporting evidence and have cleared him for travel. The government has been ordered to bring him home within 15 days or offer concrete reasons why not. They can appeal, of course, as they already have done once, prolonging the process to yield this latest ruling, which could not possibly be clearer. The Supreme Court of Canada is now the last appeal left to them, but short of a few die-hards gathered worshipfully at Stephen Harper’s feet, there is no one left in Canada who thinks the government’s position is in the least bit defensible.

But as I read the Globe’s online version of the story, what struck me as funny (if any humour can be found in this travesty) is that within an hour or so of the story’s going up on the Globe and Mail’s website, this note appeared:

“Comments have been disabled: Editor's Note: Comments have been closed on this story because an overwhelming number of readers were making offensive statements about other commenters and/or the individual or individuals mentioned in the story. That kind of behaviour is a breach of our commenting policy, and so the comment function has been turned off. We appreciate your understanding.”

Makes me wish I’d read the story a few minutes sooner. I suspect I would have discovered several brand new adjectives with which to describe Lawrence Cannon, who has been given the impossible task of defending the government’s unconscionable handling of this case so far.

= =

A review.

I recently grappled with “Do I like it?” or “Do I hate it?” after watching a movie called “Across the Universe”. I decided that not only do I like it, I like it a lot. But I concede it’s not for everyone.

If you’re already familiar with the “make our music into a story” genre that has yielded such results as the stage show, “We Will Rock You” (the music of Queen) or the stage show AND movie, “Mamma Mia” (the music of ABBA), then the concept of “Across the Universe” will not be strange. In this case it’s the music of The Beatles, but of the admittedly limited list of such movies with which I am familiar, it is far and away the strongest at making the music ADVANCE the story, rather than weave a story around the tunes, or having the tunes rendered as dance numbers across the movie / show’s length.

The very first scene of “Across the Universe” shows a thoughtful Jim Sturgess sitting on a seashore. He turns to the camera and sings the first couple lines of “Girl”: “Is there anybody going to listen to my story, all about the girl who came to stay?” and thus are we launched into his story. It’s not entirely music end to end, but in this movie when the songs are performed, they are moving the plot forward. And what a list of songs. Think of a few Beatles tunes you know, then take a look at the following list, lined up in the order they appear in the movie. (I guess I should say “Spoiler”, because if you know these tunes well, you might well get a moderately good idea of where this movie will take you. So… Spoiler if you haven’t yet seen, “Across the Universe”):

"Girl" Performed by Jim Sturgess;
"Helter Skelter" Performed by Dana Fuchs (reprised later in the film, during the "Across the Universe" sequence);
"Hold Me Tight" Performed by Evan Rachel Wood, Lisa Hogg and Jim Sturgess;
"All My Loving" Performed by Jim Sturgess;
"I Want to Hold Your Hand" Performed by T.V. Carpio;
"With a Little Help from My Friends" Performed by Joe Anderson, Jim Sturgess and "Dorm Buddies";
"It Won't Be Long" Performed by Evan Rachel Wood;
"I've Just Seen a Face" Performed by Jim Sturgess;
"Let It Be" Performed by Carol Woods and Timothy T. Mitchum;
"Come Together" Performed by Joe Cocker and Martin Luther McCoy;
"Why Don't We Do It in the Road?" Performed by Dana Fuchs;
"If I Fell" Performed by Evan Rachel Wood;
"I Want You (She's So Heavy)" Performed by Joe Anderson, "Soldiers", Dana Fuchs and T.V. Carpio;
"Dear Prudence" Performed by Dana Fuchs, Jim Sturgess, Evan Rachel Wood and Joe Anderson;
"Flying" Performed by The Secret Machines (performers not seen on-screen);
"Blue Jay Way" Performed by The Secret Machines (performers not seen on-screen);
"I Am the Walrus" Performed by Bono (accompanied by the Secret Machines);
"Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" Performed by Eddie Izzard;
"Because" Performed by Evan Rachel Wood, Jim Sturgess, Joe Anderson, Dana Fuchs, T. V. Carpio and Martin Luther McCoy;
"Something" Performed by Jim Sturgess;
"Oh! Darling" Performed by Dana Fuchs and Martin Luther McCoy;
"Strawberry Fields Forever" Performed by Jim Sturgess and Joe Anderson;
"Revolution" Performed by Jim Sturgess;
"While My Guitar Gently Weeps" Performed by Martin Luther McCoy (joined by Jim Sturgess for one verse);
"Across the Universe" Performed by Jim Sturgess;
"Happiness Is a Warm Gun" Performed by Joe Anderson and Salma Hayek;
"A Day in the Life" Performed by Jeff Beck (brief instrumental extract);
"Blackbird" Performed by Evan Rachel Wood;
"Hey Jude" Performed by Joe Anderson (joined by Angela Mounsey for one verse);
"Don't Let Me Down" Performed by Dana Fuchs and Martin Luther McCoy;
"All You Need is Love" Performed by Jim Sturgess, Dana Fuchs, T.V. Carpio and Martin Luther McCoy;
"She Loves You" Performed by Joe Anderson (brief rendition sung during the last part of the "All You Need Is Love" sequence);
"Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" Performed by Bono (with backing vocals by The Edge. This song is played over the end credits. Performance not seen on-screen)


I don’t know about you but there are a couple Beatles songs there I’ve never even heard of before (“Soldiers”? “Flying”? “Blue Jay Way”?) and a couple others of which I’m aware, but I don’t exactly go around humming (“Happiness is a Warm Gun”; “Dear Prudence”) but oh my are they perfect here!

Now if you’re so inclined, you might also take a look at the cast list for this movie and you’ll discover something else – all the cast members perform their own music. And they do it damned well, too! And yes, there are indeed appearances by Joe Cocker, Bono, Salma Hayek and Jeff Beck. In fact, the whole movie is an occasional spot-the-celebrity / guess-the-allusion run for those who lived through the late 60s early 70s, and the more so if you did so at an age when student activism mattered and ending the War mattered, and civil rights marches mattered… (“Is she supposed to be Janis? Is he supposed to be Jimi?”) It is, as a result, a movie I automatically want to see more than once because only by the end, when I realized just how many cultural references are embedded in it without actually having labels hung on them, did I really start paying closer attention to that sort of thing.

Visually, it is stunning, in part because it warps you though the Beatles’ career beginning with their days as leather-jacketed Elvis wannabees playing Liverpool’s The Cavern Club to their firmly-in-command dabblings that produced the colour swathes of “Yellow Submarine” and the Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover.


After agreeing with myself to love this movie, I wallowed in it. You may or may not agree with its wallow factor, but whatever your film-going experiences to this point in your life, I doubt you will find much with which to compare the experience of this one.

Another review (mercifully brief): the new Star Trek movie.

To quote Mick “Jumping Jack Flash” Jagger, “It’s a gas, gas, gas!”

As a long-time (only since episode 1 of Star Trek: The Original Series) fan, I liked it a lot. As someone who groans whenever any Star Trek rerun crosses our TV screen, Leslie said it was “OK, a bit loud at times”. You have to understand that, relative to her customary view of all things Trekkian, this is a quantum leap on the order of the space-time warp that threw Janeway's Voyager into the Delta Quadrant. Yes, they play (eyebrow-raisingly play, in a couple of examples) with Trek canon, but they pre-set the canvas in such a way so as to enable them to do so.

Their villain in this one – Nero – is a great villain. (Although I confess I always wonder why so many sci-fi villains, with all the running around, leaping and fighting they have to do, inevitably seem to make questionable fashion choices – in this case to wear one of those giant Outback-looking raincoats that flaps all over the place during all of the aforementioned running around, leaping and fighting. Seems to me that when the occasion calls, the difference between the time required to whip your disruptor out of its holster vs the time required the clear away the tent-like folds of a heavy coat and then whip your disruptor out of its holster can have a significant impact on your winnability quotient.)

For a Trekkie, it’s a terrific add to the never-ending story; for a non-Trekkie, it’s a pretty darned good action movie. If a bit loud at times.

Thanks for sticking with this longer-than-usual whining, all!

A la next time.

Monday, May 25, 2009

MEMORANDUM
FROM: Me
TO: TV news shows
SUBJECT: “Newer is not always better”

More and more TV news shows seem to be getting caught up in the technology of transmitting “live” by cellphone in an effort to show us, the viewers, that they’re right on top of the story. However, the one common element I have seen in all these remote stories is that the technology seems to be on a par with the images that the Apollo 11 camera and microphone transmitted from the surface of the moon in July 1969.

“Skype” is the name that most often follows the word, “Via” in such reports and, in a public-service effort to find out more about it for the countless (well, “countless” as applied to people whose numeracy ends when they run out of fingers) readers of this sporadic ramble, here’s how it is summed up on Wikipedia, which at least avoids trying to sell me the application:

“Skype ([skaɪp]) is a software application that allows users to make telephone calls over the Internet. Calls to other users of the service and to free-of-charge numbers are free, while calls to other landlines and mobile phones can be made for a fee. Additional features include instant messaging, file transfer and video conferencing. Skype was written by Estonia-based developers Ahti Heinla, Priit Kasesalu and Jaan Tallinn, who had also originally developed Kazaa. The Skype Group, founded by Swedish-born entrepreneurs Niklas Zennström and Janus Friis, has its headquarters in Luxembourg, with offices in London, Tallinn, Tartu, Stockholm, Prague, and San Jose.”

Well, that explains it, because nothing says “quality software” like “Estonia-based developers”.

Isn’t Estonia one of those places where spammers register their file servers to avoid being charged under North American law?... [GoogleGoogleGoogle... yep]

“With countries like Estonia, Russia, and Romania doing little or nothing to track down and prosecute cybercriminals, they will continue to set up shop there.” (From www.allspammedup.com / May 8, 2009)

As news networks link to reporters transmitting from such faraway and difficult-to-reach exotic locations as, oh for example Mexico City (during the height of the swine flu scare), the best onscreen image they can manage is grainy and just enough out of synch with the sender’s voice to be really, really irritating. Add to this the fact that cellphone lenses are invariably wide-angle, which usually gives the remote reporter hilariously exaggerated features at the middle of his / her face, suggesting that this is not so much a news report as it is a failed audition for “The Blair Witch Project”.

It all leaves me wondering why the news shows don’t dispense with the live Skype-and-its-clones feeds entirely and simply do what they used to do not so very long ago – put a still photo of the reporter onscreen while airing the audio of the telephone conversation that the news host is having with the distantly located reporter.* If anything, that says “immediate” even more than the ridiculous, jerky, Skype-transmitted cellphone images.

* Alternatively, there’s always “The Daily Show”’s perfectly functional, albeit satirical, approach. Whenever they cut away to a special correspondent – their “Senior Child Molestation Expert”, to take just one example – they simply switch to a different camera in the studio that is framing their “remote” reporter in front of a bluescreen on which they insert a screen-captured background image of whatever the heck they agree looks vaguely like the location from which the stand-up report is supposed to be coming. Meanwhile, the “remote” reporter is standing about 20 feet away from anchor Jon Stewart at his desk. Much hilarity abounds.

= = =

When is a park not a park?

When it’s the Richard and Annette Bloch Cancer Survivors Park.

Not so long ago in our neighbourhood, this was officially opened.

(Photo: The Epoch Times) And I have a great deal of difficulty understanding exactly what it is all about. From the very first page on its website, for example, you’re presented with this rather bizarre summation:

“Located on 4.5 acres at the busy intersections of Alta Vista Dr., Industrial Ave., and Riverside Dr., Ottawa’s Cancer Survivors Park is the second of its kind in Canada and will offer a place of serenity and inspiration to cancer patients and survivors, their friends and families.”

Is it just a quirk of my thinking, or does anyone else reading that sentence wonder how a “place of serenity” is to be found at the “busy intersections” of three of Ottawa’s most heavily-travelled streets? Because at 5:00 pm when the homebound weekday rush is in full swing, “serenity” is just about the last description you think of applying to the whirl of vehicles navigating those intersections.

Meanwhile, the “park” is a multi-million dollar conglomeration of steel and stone that, for me, recalls the Korean War Memorial on Washington DC’s Mall, minus the ghostly sculptured soldiers walking among the paths of stone and highly polished granite. (Photo: z.about.com)


There is, in other words, precious little about it that is “park”-like – you know: trees, grass, flowers, and so on. In fact, as that website front page shows, its only “flowers” are two-storey tall hideous artificial constructs in colours seemingly selected from the discount stocks offered at an end-of-season Wal-Mart paint sale priced so as to clear the shelves for their incoming array of plastic outdoor nativity scenes. (Photo: The Epoch Times)


(Those flowers, incidentally, come with a tale of their own. Allegedly, they were all supposed to be yellow – daffodils, in fact. Then, being as how we’re in Ottawa, our inherent politicization of everything drew the Canadian Cancer Society into the fray with a demand that the Blochs eliminate any overt “daffodilism” in their park because the CCS hangs its own annual springtime fundraising campaign on sales of live, potted versions of precisely that flower. One wonders if they got an early look at the Blochs’ monstrosity and reasoned that any confusion at all with it in the public’s mind – and wallets – would not help their cause at all, indeed might well work against it.)

The Blochs’ park is also filled with several large stone blocks resembling sarcophagi, each of which is decorated with a couple of greyish-looking artificial oak leaves that look like petrified bat turds, and a bronze plaque on which is cast an inspirational saying, or a bit of factual information about the disease that is cancer. (Photo: ATV.ca) Frankly, were I a cancer survivor, or the relative of a family member lost to the disease, I would be hard pressed to imagine another place short of a funeral home that is more depressing than this “park” festooned with so many symbols and structures resonant of death.

Had I successfully grappled with cancer, I think I would much prefer a genuine, natural place of serenity like, oh, you know, perhaps a... park, there to celebrate the beauty of the natural world and my place in it, instead of parking my butt on an ice-cold steel bench overlooked by claw-like semi-arches on which sculptured steel tendrils of ivy have been woven, frozen into immobility, hope-absent and about as welcoming as one of those other “parks” – the ones with stripes painted on their flat surfaces to help drivers position their cars with a minimum of fuss and disorder.

But maybe that’s just me.

= = =

Irony of the month.

I have the feeling this little bit of whimsy was created by a line-up editor with a sense of humour, but recently on msn.ca’s online news page, this story: “Drop parental opt-out on evolution, other issues, teachers urge Alberta. Alberta's teachers have officially asked the province to drop amendments to its human rights legislation that would give parents the right to pull their children out of classes discussing religion, evolution, sexuality or sexual orientation.”

appeared right beside this one:

47-million-year-old primate fossil unveiled. Scientists on Tuesday unveiled fossilized remains of one of the oldest and most complete skeletons of an early primate, a finding they say could further our understanding of what our own ancestors might have looked like.”

which ought nicely to tie those parents seeking to pull their kids out of those ungodly evolution classes into wild new pretzel shapes.

= = =

Sleep tight tonight; your government is “simplifying”.

For your amusement (hat tip to IK), here – verbatim – are the instructions that appear on p.1 of a Government of Canada website which purports to allow federal employees to “access your CompensationWeb Applications (CWA)” The “amusement” comes when you read on – and on – after the first four words:

"Follow these simple steps...

"1. PREPARE
Collect the following information before you enrol.
Pension Number (Superannuation Number) – found on your Pension and Benefits Statement *
Total Deductions – found on your most recent pay stub
Personal Record Identifier (PRI) – found on your pay stub
Government E-mail Address
Date of Birth (yyyy | mm | dd)

"2. CREATE A PROFILE
Go to: [Public Works and Government Services Canada / PWGSC website]
remuneration-compensation
Select the English or Français button.
Select the New Users button.
Scroll down and select Pay Applications or
Pension Applications.
Choose and Record
User Name
Password
Recovery Secret
Check the box I agree to Terms and Conditions of use.
Select the Submit button.
Record Identifier.
..........................................
Do not close the browser.

"3. ENROL
Select Click here to log in.
Type your User Name and Password.
Select the Log in button.
Select the Continue button for the next 2 pages.
Type your Pension Number (Superannuation Number).*
Type your Total Deductions.
Type your PRI.
Type your Government e-mail address.
Type your Date of Birth.
Select the Enrol button.
You will receive an e-mail with an attachment and a link.
Open the attachment.
Copy the Enrolment Activation Number (EAN).
Open the link.
Paste the EAN in the field.
Select the Continue button.
The System returns to the Home Page of the tool you selected.
* Not applicable for non–pension plan
members."


= = =

What in heaven’s name would we ever do without organizations like this that are willing to spend their own money to fund such outstanding and impartial research? File this under “What are the odds?”:

"Study commissioned by plastics industry says reusable grocery bags dangerous
CANADIAN PRESS (May 24)
TORONTO - The growing popularity of reusable grocery bags could pose a health risk to Canadians by increasing their exposure to dangerous bacteria, says a study commissioned by the plastics industry released Wednesday.
The Canadian Plastics Industry Association hired two independent labs to conduct what it said was the first study of so-called eco-friendly grocery bags in North America, and found 64 per cent of them were contaminated with some level of bacteria…"


Not to be outdone in publishing its own findings, the World Wildlife Fund is cited in the same article:

“The World Wildlife Fund, which worked with grocery chains such as Loblaws to convince retailers to charge five cents for each plastic bag to discourage their use, said the concerns raised in the study could be addressed by washing the reusable bags.”

Up next: a study commissioned by the same Canadian Plastics Industry Association finds that shredded plastic bags are better than bran for really cleaning out the ol’ colon.

And what does it all call to mind? (You Tube link)

= = =

And finally, why is the international community so upset about North Korea testing a nuclear bomb by setting it off deep underground within its own borders? I think the international community should be doing exactly the opposite by doing everything it can to encourage them to test every last one of their nuclear bombs by detonating them underground within their own borders – just to be sure they all work. And if they build another one? Test it... you don’t want to find out you’ve got a dud just when you need it most.

PS... Watching news coverage of this story leads me to wonder why it is that all the military “bad guys” of the world seem to require the goose step from their soldiers on parade. It’s a hopelessly bizarre march cadence that’s got to be incredibly hard on boot heels, not to mention human thigh muscles. North Korea’s troops include entire regiments of women and if you thought the goose step looks stupid when guys do it...

Until la prochaine...

Sunday, May 17, 2009

I must admit that in recent weeks my Muse has been on vacation. Either that, or like me she (because my Muse is a “she” / a little more about her later) has just thrown up her hands in dismay at what is wafting across the airwaves these days and crying aloud, “How can I compete with that?!”

To evoke Rod Serling, “Consider if you will...”:

-- Former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney is doggedly sticking to his delusion that we all will accept there are just some people – “legitimate businessman”-type people, foreigners to be sure, and doncha know they do things differently in Germany? – who pay high-priced consultants with wads of thousand-dollar bills stuffed into envelopes and slid quietly across coffee shop tabletops in expensive urban hotels. Accepting such payments (his voices continue to tell him), not telling anyone and only paying taxes years later when you get caught are all nothing more than “whoops, my bad” moments by a man who would normally have entrusted those record-keeping responsibilities to competent financial staff, but dangnabbit, he just didn’t have the staff anymore when he became a “former” Prime Minister.

-- At the same time, Ruby Dhalla, a sitting Member of Parliament is addressing her own personal scandal. This one began with the innocuous fact that someone in her family (BUT NOT HER!!) employed Filipina women as caregivers for her mother. The story has since exploded into a torrent of wildly divergent versions with all sorts of allegations of abuse by the caregivers. Ms Dhalla, however, claims that the caregivers are now engaged – perhaps as unwitting dupes in the moulding hands of the evil Conservatives – in some vast conspiracy to discredit her. Further, they are not telling the truth – at least according to Ms Dhalla and her lawyer – when they say that they were hired by Ms Dhalla, reported to Ms Dhalla, were paid by Ms Dhalla, and treated abusively by Ms Dhalla by being forced to work for many more hours than those for which they were contracted, at tasks that they argue were about as distant from “caregiving” as this planet’s South Pole is from its North. Further, the caregivers have specifically claimed that when they openly considered complaining, their official documentation, including their passports, was seized by Ms Dhalla and returned only when a caregiver advocacy agent threatened to call the police. And oh, by the way, almost all of the reporters and commentators who have anything at all to say about this story are careful to ensure that we continue to know – by reminding us again and again and again – that Ms Dhalla is “drop-dead gorgeous” and “a former beauty queen”. (So... what?)

-- Larry O’Brien, presently the Mayor of Ottawa (albeit on an unpaid leave of absence) is currently on trial, facing charges of influence-peddling by offering a campaign opponent a lucrative federal office if he (the opponent) would just drop out of the municipal election campaign and effectively clear the track for all his (the opponent’s) supporters to toss their eventual X-marked circles his (O’Brien’s) way on voting day. Which is pretty much how the “ends” played out. But whether those were in fact the “means” is now up to the court to decide. The Ontario Provincial Police, however, decided there was sufficient smoke to consider at least the possibility of a fire, and it was their investigation into the allegations that led to the laying of charges.

-- And while we’re on the subject of law enforcement, the RCMP... yes those RCMP. Even the Force’s own until-recent first choice as psychological consultant has slammed those four infamous officers on Vancouver airport security duty for opting to use their Taser training as the only possible method of dealing with one confused, exhausted, non-English speaking Polish immigrant named Robert Dziekanski, who had remained trapped in the secure customs area of the airport for some nine hours before the sudden appearance of the flak-jacketed four and their (to him) completely incomprehensible instructions, leading to his multiple tasering and death just moments after they (the four “peace officers”) first arrived on the scene.

-- South of the border, the man elected President last November on a virtual tsunami of post-Bushlite “HOPE” has just announced he is quietly reversing two of his key campaign promises – Mr Obama recently ordered the suppression of what are rumoured to be as many as “several hundred” more photos of alleged US prison guard abuse of detainees at US detention centres around the world; and he has also “quietly” ordered the military tribunals in Guantanamo – reviled by critics as “kangaroo courts” – to resume their proceedings, a decision that may not bode well for Canadian detainee Omar Khadr, who was pretty close to the top of the “Next” list when Obama ordered an end to the tribunals immediately after being sworn into office.

-- And much farther afield, waaaaay overseas, one of the world’s great voices of democracy, Myanmar’s Aung San Suu Kyi, who has been under house arrest in that country forever, or so it seems, was two weeks away from being released, when in an act that beggars belief she was visited in her home by a American man named John Yettaw – a “borderline diabetic... asthmatic” member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. With the aid of a pair of homemade swim fins, Mr Yettaw supposedly swam across a lagoon to Ms Suu Kyi’s house, reportedly to deliver a bible to her. This story, frankly, smells to high heaven (“He has asthma real bad, that's why I'm surprised he swam so good,” said his ex-wife in one of the Associated Press articles about the ever more peculiar story) because the military junta in charge in that country would like nothing more than to avoid returning the hugely popular passionate pro-democracy advocate to the public eye. And as luck would have it, having a visitor is expressly prohibited by the terms of Ms Suu Kyi’s house arrest. Violating those terms is subject to a five-year term in prison and the Myanmar generals have wasted no time. At this writing, Ms Suu Kyi is confined to a cell in Insein Prison (another of those tragically appropriate bits of nomenclature) while the Myanmar government tries to weather the growing storm of international condemnation over the whole affair.

I think if Ms Ruby Dhalla really wanted to see a conspiracy in action, she could take lessons from the travesty of dictatorial leadership presently helming Myanmar.

-- Meanwhile, back in this country the ever more certifiable Harper government has decided that their best hope for re-election lies not in touting their own record (understandable since as late as last November their Minister of Finance, Jim “There will never be a deficit while I am Minister of Finance” Flaherty, was forecasting a “slight surplus” in his Fall Economic Update, instead of the $80-plus billion deficit under which we are now living), but rather in convincing voters that the real threat to Canada is for our population to even think of voting for a man who drinks espresso coffee into which he dunks chocolate wafers, who has lived outside the country and who (*shudder*) has actually been in the employ of Harvard University – as a professor, no less. “Attack ads”, the Conservative campaign is called officially. Unofficially, I think that most people – most living beings with brains, in fact – would use the label MBPE: management by psychotic episode.**

** Sourced, if you can believe the internet, to this paragraph in a memorandum written by an International Federation of Professional and Technical Engineers (IFPTE) union local representative, Dr William H Jones, arguing that morale at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) was low because the Agency was then in “utter chaos”:

“Did Mr. Goldin help this state of chaos along? Yes. Certainly. He eagerly accepted budget cuts, without the political difficulties of commensurate mission cuts, in a business that had no budget to spare. He decided in his own mind that sufficient chanting of the right mantra could make up for all the talents and resources that he was happily tossing away; he erected a framework of management by psychotic episode the like of which has probably not been seen since the Roman Emperors.”

And that’s just the quick off-the-top of my head list. How can you make fun of self-satirizing material like that? No wonder my Muse headed for the peace of a sunlit pond-side patch of green and took two giant pitchers of beer with her!
(Photo: a still from “Happy Gilmore”)

= = =

A couple of TV ad bleats. That’s always safe ground. We have an ongoing family poll for pride of place on our worst-commercials-going list. Among our current high vote earners: The company that sells insurance for seniors (well, for people over 50, they say) by showing us an appallingly impatient woman driver accompanied by the nasally-bound voiceover: “You don’t drive like her; so why should you pay the same insurance premiums as her?” I wrote them a letter and told them I was still trying to decide which group should feel more insulted – women drivers, their target audience of drivers over 50, or frankly everyone with a television. In the real world, that woman simply would not be driving for very long before some large guy with a lug wrench would step out of his own car, walk back to hers, and smash every last window in her car to bits. (“C’mon already THIS, you ignorant...!”)

The (male) office worker who dresses like Santa for the office Christmas party and has all the women staff atwitter after they’ve paid a visit to his lap – because he takes “natural male enhancement” pills. What bothers me about that one is, first of all, the suggestion that Office Santa apparently has been sitting there all day in a state of obvious... *ahem* enthusiasm, but even more than that is the creepy grin pasted on this guy’s face throughout the ad. It’s the kind if look that, were you to spot it roadside on the face of a hitchhiker, would cause you to swerve far to the other side of the road, accelerate and then put a great many kilometres between you and him just as fast as you possibly could. I have no idea why the makers of this pill have apparently decided that look holds an attraction for women.

= = =

This landed in my e-mail box recently, under the thread title, “RBC Online Banking Alert:- Notification Of Irregular Account Activity!” (Oh fer shure I’ll give you all my account security information and I really appreciate your drawing this to my attention!). Exactly as it arrived,:

“Dear Customer,
.We are unable to send message(s) to your online banking due to a Error Code [E634] between your e-mail address.

To enable you start receiving security e-mail alert when any transaction Or login attempt has been made from your online banking and also continue accessing your online account it will only take you few minutes to update your e-mail address including your Security information's. Click on the link below and you will be taken straight to where you can update your e-mail and Security information's.
http://royalbank.com/login/pro/update/account

Important Notice:- You are strictly advised to match your Memorable Word rightly to avoid service suspension.

Thank You.
Royal Bank of Canada Customer Services”


And of course I just know with even more certainty that it’s a valid message because the many punctuation errors and amusingly creative application of basic English vocabulary (“match your Memorable Word rightly”; “Security information’s”) only re-assure me that you clearly place a much higher priority on accounting and numbers and important stuff like that, rather than frivolous and unnecessary things like correct English grammar. That’s for me the bank of much goodness!

= = =

And finally, I received a Facebook urging from one of my Facebook friends recently inviting me to visit a link so as to be able to vote for something called “The Best Canadian Song of All Time”, according to a short list compiled by someone / something called “Luminato”, which helpfully explains itself to be “The Toronto Festival for the Arts”. These are my only voting options:

1234, Feist
Basement Apartment, Sarah Harmer
Boy Inside the Man, Tom Cochrane
Courage, The Tragically Hip
Cuts Like a Knife, Bryan Adams
Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen
Hasn't Hit Me Yet, Blue Rodeo
Helpless, Neil Young
Taking Care of Business, BTO
The Weight, The Band


Now I agree completely with those who think that setting out to compile a “Best of...” anything list in this age of global internet communication puts you on a par with lawyer Jimmy Stewart picking up a gun for the very first time and, without even taking off his apron, strolling out into the street and hollering, “Alright Liberty Valance, bring it on!” It makes you, in other words, a target, and immediately opens you, the compiler, to all sorts of, “OH COME ON! WHAT ABOUT...??” replies, retorts and outright abuse, depending on the responder’s passion.

In my case, my initial reply along those lines (abuse) was mitigated by the realization that a couple of those named songs I have never even heard of, and so really can’t be too critical. Maybe they’re musical dynamite! (At least I’ve heard of all the musicians, so I’m not entirely orbiting – tune-awareness-wise – out there beyond Pluto.)

But if one reversed the process and, instead of offering me a list and asking me to vote, asked me simply to name what I think is the “Best Canadian Song of All Time”, I would name a song that to me sums up a great many things about what it means to be Canadian. Making it singable, indeed popular, is a bonus. For me that song is...

(drum roll)

...

Gordon Lightfoot’s Canadian Railroad Trilogy. It transcends generations and remains surprisingly relevant to the times, regardless of when one hears it. After all, it began life as a celebration of what Lightfoot applauds as the single most symbolically unifying event in Canada’s history – the building of the transcontinental Canadian Pacific Railway. And now, as we sit here in mid-2009, we look at the poignant story behind that still-mighty anthem and realize that Lightfoot has managed to make it resonant even today, when it is still the strongest single image of what it means to be Canadian.

Because, after all, that awesomely forged coast-to-coast ribbon of steel was a project that took thousands of foreign workers, brought them to Canada to work under inhumanly difficult, harsh, dangerous, even slave-labour-like conditions for ridiculously unfair wages – if the pittance they received could even be called a “wage” – on a scandal-riddled project that pretty much lined the pockets of federal and provincial corrupt, graft-driven politicians from coast to coast.

And I ask you, what could be more Canadian than that?

À la next time.