Small Stuff

1. Well, my Christmas antics, tagged twice by Big Brother, seem to have rather dramatically increased my regular as well as occasional readership. Gosh but I feel a responsibility to write some good strong stuff for you all. Well, not today.

2. I am experiencing a variety of complex issues on all my computers, on my laptop my mouse is having problems, so that the left button always seems to send a double click. (It is my employer's computer, so they will be buying a new mouse shortly. Gosh its nice to be in management.) In the short term I solved this by reversing the buttons, and you know, I like it better that way. It takes a bit of getting used to, but the left click for popup menu and the right click for do that actually seems more intuitive.


3. I bought a new computer for the family last Christmas. I spent as much as I could at the time, which obviously wasn't enough. It is Having Troubles. Basically, when it plays the high end games for my son, the display is insanely lousy, generating a frame rate that drops to like one every two seconds in intense moments, which sucks, basically makes things unplayable. I laid out a chunk of cash for a new video card for Christmas, which only brought margainal improvement. Well, it's a Celeron (I went for closk-speed rather than cache, bad idea) on a kinda crappy motherboard (who knew?), so after much consulting with various tech types, I have come to the conclusion that replacing both is about all I can do. I think I have found an Athalon & Asus combo that while a serious expenditure for me, are just barely affordable, and which should do the trick.

3. I have received a number of questions about my post on the mentally ill. No, I actually do not have any good answers. The pharmacology is actually pretty good these days, and an awful lot of people can in fact be treated. But only if they consent, which is the issue. I am not at all sure that I want to return to a world where you can receive forcible treatment, it was pretty nightmarish, and potentially could be even worse now. On the other hand, there is a good deal more misery than there needs to be. It is a conundrum, to be sure; our response to it perhaps is a pretty good indicator of our worth as a society. Certainly jail is a pretty poor way of helping people. It is, I think, mostly about caring for the very hard to care about.

5. Ah hell, I'm dropping my plan to include trigger words for the NSA. It's childish and irritating, really.

If continued....

Bomb, Allah, Washington, NSA

The spammers seem too be beating the screeners for once, I'm pretty regularly getting three or four a day on my very public work email address through the Nucleus screen (it still is a pretty good screen, it nails about 50 0r so software, watch, Nigerian bank account, girls that want to have threesomes, and erecticle product vendors a day. Incidentally, what is up with all the watch selling going on? Why that and not, oh I don't know, guava beans or fake armani suits?)

It's no big deal, just a minor irritation, so drastic measures are not required, but still, it annoys.

What is bugging me is that the ones that get through seem so very pointless: no return or website for me to send my money to, just announcements about corporations I have never heard of doing this or that, followed by weirdly truncated text usually from a bunch of famous novels. The last one was an oil company announcing it was drilling somewhere in north texas, followed by, I am almost sure, a chunk of Jane Austen, Tolstoy, & Tolkien-- it is hard to say, because it only seems to have picked up the first five words of each line for a paragraph or so, then mixed them all up.

I was hoping for some cool found poetry, but no dice.

Probably how it got past the filter anyway.

But why the fuck send me an announcement about drilling in the Maldives or wherever? What the Fuck is up with that?

I wanted to email bomb them (hi there, NSA guys-- if big bro is right, and I am pretty sure he is, I used the word bomb so you are reading this; I think we oughta make the NSA guys work for their living, and wouldn't it be cool if every blogger out there made sure their post contained some combination of I dunno Allah, nuclear, Bush, jihad, bomb, martyr, Israel, airplane, CIA, conspiracy, Washington, security, box-cutter, anthrax, double, false ID, whatever. I bet Tim could come up with a better list which we could all use to give those mighty NSA machines conniptions. But I forgot, he is on their side.)

But all the spam claims to be originating from hotmail or yahoo these days. Well, I can't complain, I maintain a hotmail account myself, for when I have to produce an email address that I have no intention at all of responding to. Isn't that what hotmail is for? At the end of the day, isn't that what Microsoft is for?

What would make me really happy, is if some techie out there could develop a program that would piggyback on my screen and forward all my spam to Bill Gates personally, or perhaps the director of the NSA, or the MPIA, they all need more watches, software, and especially open minded girls I think, to say nothing of products that help with various dysfunctions.

I think I might even pay good cold hard cash for something like that.

(Updated before the fact-- why do I want to put chaff up in front of the people that are protecting us? Because they aren't, and can't, I think. It was the rule of law and refusal to be panicked that beat the Red Brigades in Italy and the IRA in Great Britain, not spies and extrajudicial "actions." To beat terrorists, the only thing that is required is courage.)

If continued....

One last kick at the Christmas can

I was driving around on Christmas Eve doing the last of my Christmas shopping (being a truly manly man and all-- I noted that there didn't seem to be any desperate female shoppers out), and I had to pull over because I was laughing so hard at this. Give it a listen. "Kris Kringle!" indeed.

If continued....

The Opposite of Christmas

I’ve been thinking about this, about whether to write it, and whether to post it. But I suppose if I have to think about it on Christmas Eve, maybe other people should too.

It’s a rotten world, you know? It is all kind of abstract, when I go on about Darfur and other hellholes. But here is a particular:

I posted about the party. What I didn’t mention is how it ended. The dignitaries left, the tv cameras left, the kids and families went to their rooms and played with the toys, and we were left with Peter. Peter is a young man from Sudan with a broken mind. He thinks he has a drooling problem, so he only wants to eat dry bread (when he eats at all), and likes to stuff his mouth with Kleenex when he can. He was sitting in the tv room stuffing his mouth with tissue all afternoon and into the evening, while the children were downstairs getting toys.

He was a child once, of course, whole and with dreams, but now as far as we can determine, all his family was killed, except for one uncle who is likely crazy too, starving and drinking himself to death in public housing, and certainly unable to help him.

He lived in our hostel for a few weeks last year, when he first came to Canada, and we must have been the first people that had ever been nice to him, because now our hostel is, in his mind, his home. He kept his key somehow when he moved out (to go to Brooks to kill cows for money, which he just couldn’t do for long); we re-keyed the rooms, but not the bathrooms, so he sneaks back in at night and sleeps in one, from time to time, no matter how firmly we ask him to leave.

He scares the bejeezus out of resident clients, though I don’t think he’s dangerous.

Though you never know, really.

So there we were, full of the glow of Christmas, trying to think of how to deal with Peter.

What have we done so far? We’ve tried to tell him he might feel better if he saw a doctor. Like most of his people, he believes the only thing a doctor can do is give you an injection. Our medical personnel tell us that he is clearly ill, and that an injection will not fix it. A daily regimen of pills might do it, but he a) does not believe in pills and b) does not think he is mentally ill. Like many mentally ill persons.

Like many mentally ill persons, he is bright, articulate, and engaging.

We managed finally to get the police to take him involuntarily to the hospital. He was there less than 24 hours: they determined that he was not an immediate threat to others or himself, and did not consent to treatment. So he showed back up. That’s the way it works.

He actually has a fairly good pile of cash available, because in desperation welfare has been sending his cheques to us, off-loading the problem as it were. Not that the cheques mean much, as he does not have and would likely have some trouble in opening a bank account to cash them in. We have no idea what he is living on, or how he is acquiring his marijuana.

Mostly he isn’t living on anything of course, and the dope, well, it is pretty harmless and might even provide more good than harm for him. (Pretty much every mentally ill person I have ever met self-medicated, usually to extreme extents. From my point of view, his mild pot use is a good thing, all things considered.) But his ethnic community, well, they are pretty conservative about drug use, and no one wants to help him because of it.

So what can we do? We can call the cops again, and they will eventually show up, depending on how busy they are with wife beatings and convenience store hold-ups by drug addicts, and escort him off our property, to which he will eventually sneak back into.

He’s been to the homeless shelters, but doesn’t like it there, there are too many crazy people he says. He’s right about that at least.

What we have to do, is get a restraining order, which is problematic to deliver as he doesn’t really have an address, but anyway once he breaches it, he can be arrested, put in jail, and then forced to appear before a magistrate, who can then order some treatment, maybe, if we are lucky, and any might be available, which is unlikely.

The last crazy guy that hung around too much and we worried about, ended up punching someone, and got put in jail, where he was raped and beaten very badly, which has made him a great deal angrier and even less stable. He’s hanging around too, not at the hostel thank god, but we don’t know what to do with him either.

Most of our court system and our jail system and our social services systems are clogged with mentally ill people. With Peters. We are forced to throw him there, because we cannot care for him, and no one else will. Jail is often the welfare system of last resort.

We are social workers, of a kind. We can help you with your substance abuse, we can help you with your dysfunctional family, we can help you with such basics as getting a job, apartment, and divorce. We can and do do a lot of good, on a daily basis. But if you are mentally ill, there is virtually nothing out there for you.

Peter may be spending his Christmas Eve in jail, if he shows up, and he likely will, because we put him there. Because he is young and very thin and weak, he will very possibly be beaten and raped too. This is the only way we, who are supposed to care for him, can see any hope of him getting treatment.

Otherwise, because he refuses the shelter, I expect this Christmas he will be sleeping on a public bathroom floor somewhere, stuffing tissue into his mouth.

Based on nearly 20 years of experience, it is unlikely that he will get any help. What all my experience tells me, is that he will live on the streets and sleep in the parks and be most despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, until he dies, which won’t be all that far away.

Merry Christmas.

* * *

Over the last almot 20 years, I’ve had six clients with whom I had a personal relationship die on me for unnatural causes. Here are their names:

Sara

Ali

Mohammed

Krystina

Jorge

John

I couldn’t help them.

Four of them were mentally ill, one of the others had a mentally ill partner. I am sure that I will see more this year, whether it is Peter, or any of the others.

Too many others.

Sorry. But when I eat my turkey tomorrow, I will be thinking of Peter, hoping he is indeed on a warm bathroom floor somewhere, and not in jail. I just wish I knew how to help him.

If continued....

Christmas Oranges

We had our party at the hostel on Wednesday, we had 31 kids ranging from 1 month to 17 years. All had been in the country less than two weeks. They were mostly from Colombia, Sudan, and Afghanistan. (Incidentally, this week has been insane, we have handed out, by my count, some 1700 toys to 1700 children in something like 10 parties ranging from the massive to the intimate, like this one was. And I had to do my own personal Christmas stuff, and it still isn't entirely done. Gosh am I tired.)

At the party, we had a last minute volunteer Santa from Afghanistan (filling in for our Sudanese/Cuban Santa who just had a baby) wearing our Santa Suit, he was enthusiastic but couldn't speak much English, which was ok because few of the parents or kids could either, and being enthusiastic is like 99% of being a Santa. One of the things I totally love about my organization, is that we have alot of Santas, we have Indian Santas, Aboriginal Santas, Black and Female Santas, African Santas, Muslim, Bahai & Buddhist Santas, whatever kind of Santa you can imagine, we've got one. (As a bearded getting older white guy I am profoundly grateful that it is so easy for me to dodge the job.) It is so cool, people of all those faiths & ethnicities dress up in Santa suits and say ho ho ho. Santa is a concept that is pretty translatable across cultures, a meme if you will, and that is what I am talking to below.

Anyway, everybody had pretty much figured out how to say "Merry Christmas" in English by the end, and were pretty happy to do so.

I'm pretty jaded I think, I see aw gee heart-warming stuff all the time (and the opposite kind of stuff too, but that is a whole 'nuther topic), but this one got to me a little. It was something to see the kids, some thrilled and excited and tearing at the wrapping paper, others awed into silence and stillness, unwilling to open the parcel, just holding it and feeling it with amazement.

One insanely cute perhaps 4 or 5 year old Sudanese little girl was scared of the crowd and of Santa, but she eyed the proferred present, and you could just see her nerve herself up; she was going to get that thing no matter what. She very bravely marched up, claimed her trophy, gravely said thankyou (shookran actually), and then sat quietly in a corner all by herself, savouring the whole thing you could tell, slowly and methodically opening it up, to reveal a set of dolls & clothes. Only one of the dolls was black, but you know, she really didn't give a damn. She hasn't had much racism in her life yet, I expect.

Anyway, it went pretty much exactly as I had pictured last week, when I gave my annual Christmas speach.

Here it is, somewhat repetitive but then Christmas is inherently pretty repetitive, and I don't think as good as last year, when I had a gift from God in the person of a young man with an amazing name (no I won't share any subsequent information, it isn't mine to share, but mostly, it has been pretty good). Here is something like what I said last Wednesday... (continued)

Merry Christmas

You know, I love getting up here every year, and saying that. It is because this is when Christmas starts, for me. I remember five years ago, I had been in my current job about four months, they came to me and said, “You have to make a speech next week.”

“What?” I said. “Why? Who to?”

“Well, there is thing called Staff A Gift, where they donate toys, and we need you to say thankyou.”

OK, I thought, I know how to say thankyou. It all seemed pretty routine.

Then I showed up here, and gosh but there are a lot of you out there, and a lot, a really lot of toys piled up by the door, and I realized that it was a little bigger than just saying thankyou. It really is a truly special thing, and like I said last year and I think the year before, this is when Christmas starts for me now, this is when Christmas starts to be real.

Now, my wife has the misfortune to work in retail, in malls, so for her Christmas started, I don’t know, two or three months ago. After years of experience, she has developed a sort of mental filter, so that hearing “Little Drummer Boy” for like the 300th time doesn’t drive her mad. But she has to deal with all the Christmas shoppers, and it strange that a holiday of joy and sharing can make people behave so badly sometimes.

Well, it makes me behave badly too: one of the things I hate most in life is shopping, and most of the year I make her do it all, but every Christmas I trudge out and join the horrible chaos that is pretty much any mall around this time of year. She’s nice, she usually arranges to have a football game on tv and a case of beer in the fridge so I can decompress when I get home, I'm usually going Bah Humbug! with much sincerity and in a generally foul mood.

I know kids, you hear this all the time, grownups complaining about how commercial Christmas is, how its all about things and not about the real meaning and so on. I’m usually one of the loudest on the topic, I think Christmas is often far too much about things, and not enough about each other. But like every grownup, I was a kid once too, and I remember how great it was to get all the stuff. I bet my own kids hear me, and think: “Yeah dad, its got nothing to do with how much you hate shopping.”

Then my wife shut me up last week, reminding me about Christmas oranges. It was a gift, really.

As a kid, what happens at Christmas is just what happens, its all kind of crazy anyway. But I remember, when I got older, it was odd, but every year I got an orange in my stocking. Not that I mind oranges, quite the contrary, but in the country where I grew up, well there were more oranges around than potatoes, to say nothing of coal.

I asked, and this is what I found out: here on the Canadian Prairies, my dad had grown up on a farm during the Depression, and my mom during the War. For them, an orange in the winter was a remarkable thing, a luxury, richness beyond belief. So we their kids got our bikes and games and clothes, but we also always got an orange. A tradition, of course, but also a memory. And so do my kids, and I hope, so will theirs, just a little reminder of what real luxury is.

So maybe it is all too crass and commercial and about stuff these days, but we should also remember that it has always also been about sharing, and about giving, and yes, about getting too. From the actual beginning, it has been about giving gifts, and to strangers too. And getting them.

Which is why I am always so awestruck and yes greedy, when I see that big pile by the door each year. The best kind of greed, of course, greed for others, and not really, I think, much of a sin, or crass commercialization either.

Because, like last year, things worked out so that we will have about 30 newly arrived refugee children staying in our hostel over Christmas (some arrived just last night). They are mostly from Colombia, where there is a very nasty war going on, they say its about Left and Right but mostly its about drug money, and there is a lot of killing and torture going on. Others are from Afghanistan, which is not at peace yet, where they are fighting over drugs and religion in a ruined country. And from the Sudan, where slavery still exists, and something close to genocide is going on, driven by another kind of drug money, oil money. They are from very poor backgrounds, and have lost whatever they did have, including family members and friends, and many have seen things that no-one, let alone a child, should ever see.

We are putting together a Christmas party for them a week from now, and all those kids will, thanks to you, get a Christmas present. They will get a toy, in many cases the first toy from a store they have ever had. We will actually have to show them how to play with it, toys being so new to them, though it won’t take long for them to figure it out.

And also next week, there will be another party, a very big one, where most of the refugee children that have arrived over the last year will get their first Christmas presents in Canada too. And it will be the first time they have seen someone in a Santa Suit, and probably the first time they have tasted turkey. And also next week, there will be three or four other parties, for immigrant children whose families don’t have much money, where the rest of toys will be distributed.

It’s a lot of work, but we don’t mind, we don’t mind it at all. For all those children, this will be, I think, something like those Christmas oranges were for my parents and grandparents: something amazing appearing in a hard and bare time. I know that they will remember it for the rest of their lives, and I expect that they will take Christmas pretty seriously when they raise their own children.

For their parents, well it is hard to share what it means to them. Like any parent, they are happy to see their children get something nice, and see that their children are able to share in the experience of all the other children here. But it goes beyond that.

For any immigrant, and especially a refugee, the first months in Canada are strange, scary, and very lonely. What makes all the difference is when you see and know that your new community is reaching out, that it cares about your family, that you are part of it. Which means you have a future, really. The best way to explain it perhaps, is that it is about Hope, hope and gratitude made tangible, which is what I think those Christmas oranges really mean.

So once again, on all their behalf, and on CCIS’s staff’s behalf, thank you so much, so very much. It means a great deal, to many people, that we can do this every year.

God Bless.

If continued....

Still a punk

As I get older, it gets harder and harder to vote. One of my colleagues recently described my political position as being "all over the map" which I found highly gratifying. I just can't find a tent that I am comfortable being in, no matter how big.

I have been uneasily solving this the last few elections, by voting for the best candidate, trying to ignore party affiliations. Of course, in a parliamentary system, this is stupid, and besides which, rotten evil parties work very hard to nominate good candidates. The party affiliation a candidate chooses speaks to their character and thinking of course, which is why I did not end up voting Liberal last election, even though they had what was in almost every way the better candidate in my riding.

In Canada, the bigger problem now, is with electoral financing law. Basically, your vote is worth a little under two bucks of public money, to the party of the candidate you vote for. To the Party, not the candidate. This is not trivial. Voting Green, for example, is no longer simply an altruistic parking lot. Oddly enough, campaign finance reform has coopted and corrupted the Greens too. I should have realized this, when it became such a suspiciously popular party here in Alberta and BC.

Here in a Conservative wasteland, I have been urging people in contestable out of province ridings to vote strategically. But now I realize that my vote is strategic too, it puts money into the coffers of one or another of the groups that have big tents (with lame music and watery beer no doubt).

Me, I would just like to get back to the civics class type representative ideal, where I get to vote on someone from where I live that would speak to what I live, and would cut (for instance) fava bean deals to the advantage of people I live near and or do business with, if we happened to big fava bean growers. Not eat fava beans with liver and a nice chianti, so to speak, which is what the political alternatives I am presented with this time around sound like.

When I am asked to vote as a citizen, every time, I am put in mind of Jonny Rotten's extremely memorable last line as a Sex Pistol: Ever get the feeling you've been cheated? For about the same reasons, I think.

Don't be told what you want,
Don't be told what you need,
There's no future, no future,
No future, for you.

(God Save the Queen, by the SPs, and good on them.)

If continued....

Wonderful

I gave my big speech today. It wasn't as good a speech as last year, but I delivered it better I think. Since I suppose it is my big Christmas message, I will give you this year's a little closer to Christmas, but below is last year's. It isn't exactly what I said, but fairly close.

For context, what happens, is that every year the employees of the Catholic School Board, a fairly substantial organization, instead of giving presents to each other, give them to us, to give to refugee and immigrant children. Every mid-December they hold this big Ceremony/Christmas concert at a large Middle School, with all the presents piled up outside, with all the kids sitting on the gym floor, and representatives from all the schools sitting on chairs at the back. I dunno, total audience is probably something like 1000 or more. Being Catholic School, it is partly religious ceremony, and partly celebration. Me & Father Rupert have been tag teaming them for a few years now. (And the Producer of the whole event that has done all the heavy lifting all these years is Martin Bidulka of course. Really, I think I am mostly saying thankyou to him as much if not more than to everyone else.)

Anyway at the end of it all, I get my multi-ethnic choir of 4 year olds up to sing a few carols (they are just insanely cute), and then I say thankyou, for by way of something between 500 and 800 toys.

So there I am, standing up in this big dark gym, with a spotlight on me so I can't see much, but I know I have like 500 or so kids elementary to grade 9 sitting on the floor, and a whole bunch of adults that ponied up the gifts sitting on chairs on the back, and this enormous pile of toys waiting in the hallway outside.

All I am supposed to do is say thankyou, but really, in that kind of situation, you have to do more than say those two usually run-into-one words.

Here is what I said last year (continued):

Merry Christmas.

I'll just be a few moments, so you guys sitting on the floor there can get back to those classes you miss so much. And I do want to say thank you to you young people especially, in advance, since I can't do it afterwards, for all the help you give us every year in loading everything up when this is done.

Anyway, every year I come here, and say a few words to all of you, especially to those in the chairs at the back, by way of saying thanks for all those toys piled up by the door.

This is when Christmas starts, for me anyway. Every year I stand up here with a Teddy Bear, holding it so I can be a little brave, and try and think of a way to say what this means.

A few days ago, I met a young man, he is 10 or 11 years old I think, where he's from they don't worry about birthdays a lot. His first names are Issa Mussa Mohammed: in Arabic Issa is Jesus, and Mussa is Moses, and Mohammed you know about I hope, I guess his parents weren't taking any chances.

To be serious for a moment, one thing I think we should all remember, is that all of those people he's named after were refugees. As a youth, because he hated injustice and made a mistake, Moses had to leave a nice life and hide, destitute and dependant on the kindness of strangers, in Midian, a foreign land, and then led his whole people as refugees into the wilderness for a generation, in search of freedom.

Muhammad had to flee his hometown Mecca as an older man, because the people he grew up with came to hate and fear him, for talking about god, about justice, and about peace, and wanted to kill him. That flight, and the refugees that joined him, became the beginning of the umma, the congegration of the faithful, that muslims all over the world honour and belong to, to this day.

And of course, we can never forget that Jesus, the prince of peace, as a baby, a baby mind you, was driven from his home into Egypt, by fear and hatred and horror and evil.

Some things never change, I think. Knowing human nature, I hope and expect that someone in Egypt gave him a toy at some point, if Joseph and Mary couldn't afford one.

Anyway, Issa Musah Mohammed and his family will be moving from our hostel into an apartment next week. All he can remember before this is life in a tent in a camp, in a desert, behind barbed wire, behind wire like you keep animals behind, except that he and his family were the animals. And although the wire was there to keep them in, it was also to keep them safe from other people, not the people from them, though we sometimes seem to forget that when we talk about refugees.

Let me tell you something sad. The only people that could leave the camp, to get water and firewood, were grandmothers. If they left the camp, the young women would get taken; the men killed on the spot, whether old or young; and the children enslaved. So the old ladies had to carry all the wood and water and food around. This is happening right now, as I stand here.

Issah Moussah Mohammad came to Calgary last week, and we met him and his family at the airport, and we gave him something he'd never seen before in his life: socks. He said, "what are these?" And we said, "you put them on your feet," and he looked at us, like get outta here, but then he walked out of the airport, and he began to see what we are talking about I think.

You know what he's looking forward to the most? In January, he will get to go to school. He's 10 or 11, and it will be for the first time in his life. I'm sure many of you in the back are teachers; maybe one of you will see him in your class. Some of you down there getting numb bums on the floor may find this weird, but if you have never been allowed to go to school in your life, if you can see other kids on the other side of the barbed wire going to school each morning, and learning things and thinking about and planning their futures, because they have a future, and you can't, because you have no future but barbed wire, well school starts to look pretty good.

He's very excited. He's going to learn to read and write. If you've never been allowed to do that, it's a pretty big thing.

Anyway, what I want to tell you is this. Something wonderful is going to happen in a couple of weeks.

Well, yes, you and your families will have Christmas, and that will be wonderful. It is a truly wonderful thing, and I wish you all much joy. And I will be with my family too, eating too much turkey, and stuffing and cranberry sauce, wearing the new shirt & tie I am pretty sure I am going to get, and perhaps having one too many glasses of wine too. But something else will be happening, which I will get to help out with, here in Calgary, that will also be wonderful. Very wonderful.

This year like last year about 1000 children will get a Christmas present at the parties we organize in the next few days, including Issa Mussa Muhammad and his brothers and sisters, (he's got five brothers and sisters actually), kids whose parents can't get them much, kids pretty new to this country, and that is all pretty wonderful.

But this year something even more wonderful will happen.

This year, because of the way the flights arrive, and its not the way it usually happens, we will have about 40 people living in our hostel over Christmas. They will have been in Canada only a few days. They will never have seen snow before. They will be lonely and scared and excited and everything else you are when you suddenly arrive in a new and very strange place.

Our staff and volunteers are going to come in, on their days off, and there will be a Christmas dinner for them, too.

We are going to feed them turkey, which they will find strange but good, and eat a lot of, and cranberry sauce and stuffing, which they mostly won't eat because its just too weird, but we'll serve it anyway because its Canada darn it! (I know families that have been here more than 20 years that serve turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce at Christmas, because that's what you do, even if they don't eat stuffing and cranberry sauce much.)

Mostly, we are going to show them, like Moses was shown, that they are welcome here as strangers in this strange land; we will give them shelter and protection, as the Koran talks about; and we will welcome them, as in Matthew 25, which is the motto of my agency: "I was a stranger, and you made me welcome."

And we are going to give each of the children, whose names I don't even know yet, I think that there will be about 15 or 20 of them, a Christmas present. Well, to tell the truth, you here have given them the presents, we are just handing them over on your behalf. It will be your presents, we just have the privilege & joy & honour of representing you. You didn't know their names: at this point, neither do we. Isn't that wonderful?

It will be the first toy most of them have ever had in their lives, and certainly the first Christmas present. The kids won't care how it happened, it's all just magic, like Christmas is for most kids. They will be happy and excited, and run around like crazy and make all the grownups crazy too; but their parents will know, that we here in Calgary, welcomed them, made them welcome, and cared.

On their behalf, the parents who don't know what to say, or how to say it, or to whom; and also on behalf of those children who will be too happy to say anything, I would like to say:

Thank You.

I trust you don't need it, and I trust that you don't expect it, but I also know it might be a little bit of warmth and joy you can carry away from here into this cold Canadian December day; not the thanks so much, as the knowledge that you have made a wonderful thing possible.

And on my own behalf, and of my colleagues, I would like to say thank you too, for the privilege we have had over the years, of giving your presents to these children, and seeing all that joy and wonder and happiness. I wish you could see it yourselves. Well, you can actually, if you are looking for an interesting volunteer experience, you can call Beata at our office, and you too just might have a wonderful experience.

Thank you.

So very much.

God Bless.

(I thought this up in honour of my old boss, Tom Denton, who I love and admire intensely. Wonderful is his favourite word I think. I would not be anything like what I am today without what he taught me, in terms of honesty, humanity, and, frankly, heroism. The man since I knew him has never been overawed by anything or anybody, and, though I hate to repeat the trite term, has turned most of his life to speaking truth to power, in as an about a real sense as anyone could imagine.)

If continued....

Read it. Sign it.

Elections are good at producing political humour, and Canadians are very good at political humour, well humour generally, but political especially. But this is election time, so non-Canadian readers may not get all of this. Nevertheless, Rick Mercer, one of my fave entertainers, has a rather irregular blog, and hit a bit of a epheral home run with this one: Children are the Future but Beer is Now (sorry, no direct link, this may get dated). Which leads to the petition, which I am proud to admit that I have signed.

It may not be quite up there with his earlier Stockwell/Doris phenomena, but my fellow Canadians, if we can boost it in that direction we certainly should.

Full disclosure: I have been known to drink beer.

Fuller disclosure: and oh, yeah, I provide child care. Quite a lot, actually, every day I have something close to 300 children in the care of my staff.

Fuller fuller disclosure: while the first one might be arguable, the arrival of my other two kids was pretty probably beer related.

Fuller totally painfully honest disclosure: I was actually drinking a beer as I typed this, as evidenced by the actual orginal skilled typing mechanics at the end of the last sentence: bree reltaed. (Just kidding Mom, it was really just breer...)

Go Canada! Eh Eh Eh!

If continued....

Sunday Odds & Ends

1. Well yes I watched football and drank beer today. The last one was the Giants squeaking one out, and good for them, but earlier I had just had to watch the Colts doing their thing on Jacksonville's ass. It was an interesting game, the Jags were obviousily totally pumped up for it, and their defence was as tough as nails, stopping Indiannapolis drives no less than four times (and sacking Preston no less than three times), forcing the Colts to field-goal it (which they did thrice, and one very odd faked attempt that Did Not Work). But as even the inane tv comentators said, the Colt's Offence this year is a Very Special Thing, something of a privilige to behold. And it doesn't hurt that they have a killer defence too, all small (by NFL standards) men over-compensating. But what was most interesting, was watching Harris so totally kick Mathis' ass. I pretty much think that Mathis is about the best Cornerback in the league, but holy crap, you could just hear Harris sayin' Sonny, let me show ya how we do this Downtown...

2. I was surfing mindlessly through wikipedia, doing the random page thing, and I highly recommend it as a way to blow off some wasted hours (the rest of the family was doing the Survivor finale thing, gah) and I ended up on the Munich Massacre. I understand that there is a major movie coming out. I am deeply conflicted, in a way. The event was deeply nasty, to be sure, a bunch of assholes blowing away some very innocent people, and a violation of the whole Olympic thing, to say nothing of major German bungling & coverups, and a Licence to Kill to the Mossad for about the next 20 years, so it was all wrong. All Wrong. But still, before that, no-one took the Palestinians seriously. After that, well we do. We still screw them over every chance we get, but at least we know that there are real people there, that take exception. What a horrible world, where that kind of vileness is the only way to get any attention at all. The real lesson of Munich is that we have learnt nothing, nothing at all.

3. My wife gave me a gift on Friday. Driving her home after work, I told her about my upcoming Big Speach whilst leaning over the driving wheel, and in return she gave me an Orange. Or more accurately, it was the memory of an Orange, and what the memory of an Orange meant, and what it means now. Thankyou my love.

4. My family was not only subjected to my sestina again, they will also get subjected again to my Big Speach from Last Year, eventually, before we get to this year's. Because it was pretty good, I think. Well, on Wednesday I will find out exactly how good it was, in the practical yield of donated toys. Then Thursday or Friday I will lay this years' on you. Unless it sucks, oranges notwithstanding.

If continued....

A Man of Sorrows

What I'm listening to right now, is probably one of the most familiar piece of music in the world, that basically nobody ever really listens to the words of.

It begins:

Comfort ye, my people, saith your God;
speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem,
and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished,
that her iniquity is pardoned.

and ends with a totally glorious

...forever and ever.

Amen.

Yeah, it's The Messiah (Handel himself called it Messiah, no "the" involved.)

What prompts this, is that our old Messiah was on vinyl and tape, and both mediums had failed, and I got all cheap last year and bought the thing at the grocery store on CD. I figured, what the hell, its the London Phil and everything on an exceedingly ubiquitous bit of music, how can you go wrong? Well it turns out that it doesn't fit on a single CD, so they have to edit bits out. In the event, most of Part II, like He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Or He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him. And most especially, the glorious We like sheep chorus (which always made me smile as a teenager).

I don't know, people that can edit out that kind of god's word, I mean a place when you can pretty authentically tell that the composer was channeling god, well I am not sure what kind of punishment they deserve. At the very least to be spit on.

Anyway, you can download a decent totally free effort from MIT, at Wikipedia.

As a public service, if you go to the continued bit, you will find the complete libretto. And a not bad summation of Christian thinking it is too.

Part I

Comfort ye, my people, saith your God;
speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem,
and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished,
that her iniquity is pardoned.
The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness:
Prepare ye the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be exalted,
and every mountain and hill made low:
the crooked straght and the rough places plain.
[Isaiah 40:1-4]

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all flesh shall see it together:
for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.
[Isaiah 40:5]

Thus saith the Lord of Hosts:
Yet once a little while, and I will shake the
heavens, and the earth, and the sea and the dry land,
and I will shake all nations,
and the desire of nations whall come.
The Lord whom ye seek, shall suddenly come
to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant,
whom ye delight in, behold,
He shall come, saith the Lord of Hosts.
[Haggai 2:6-7; Malachi 3:1]

But who may abide the day of His coming?
And who shall stand when He appeareth?
For He is like a refiner's fire.
[Malachi 3:2]

And He shall purify the sons of Levi,
that they may offer unto the Lord
an offering in righteousness.
[Malachi 3:3]

Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son,
and shall call his name Emmanuel,
God with us.
[Isaiah 7:14; Matthew 1:23]

O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion,
get thee up into the high mountain;
O thou that tellest good tidings to
Jerusalem, lift up thy voice with strength;
lift it up, be not afraid;
say unto the cities of Judah:
Behold your God! Arise, shine,
for thy light is come,
and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
[Isaiah 40:9; 60:1]

O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion,
arise, say unto the cities of Judah,
behold your God! behold!
the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
[Isaiah 40:9; 60:1]

For behold, darkness shall cover the earth,
and gross darkness the people:
but the Lord shall arise upon thee,
and His glory shall be seen upon thee.
And the Gentiles shall come to thy light,
and kings to the brightness of thy rising.
[Isaiah 60:2-3]

The people that walked in darkness
have seen a great light, and they that dwell
in the land of the shadow of death,
upon them hath the light shined.
[Isaiah 9:2]

For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given,
and the government shall be upon His shoulder,
and His name shall be called Wonderful,
Counsellor, the mighty God,
the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace
[Isaiah 9:6]

There were shepherds abiding in the field,
keeping watch over their flock by night.
And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them,
and the glory of the Lord shone round about
them, and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them:
Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings
of great joy, which shall be to all people:
for unto you is born this day in the city of David
Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And suddenly there was with the angel
a multitude of the heavenly host,
praising God, and saying:
[Luke 2:8-11,13]

Glory to God in the highest,
and peace on earth, good will towards men.
[Luke 2:14]

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion, shout,
O daughter of Jerusalem, behold, thy King
cometh unto thee. He is the righteous Saviour,
and He shall speak peace unto the heathen.
[Zechariah 9:9-10]

Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened,
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then shall the lame man leap as an hart,
and the tongue of the dumb shall sing.
[Isaiah 35:5-6]

He shall feed his flock like a shepherd,
and He shall gather the lambs with his arm,
and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead
those that are with young.
Come unto Him, all ye that labour,
that are heavy laden, and He will give you rest.
Take His yoke upon you, and learn of Him,
for he is meek and lowly of heart,
and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
[Isaiah 40:11; Matthew 11:28-29]

His yoke is easy, and his burthen is light.
[Matthew 11:30]

Part II

Behold the lamb of God,
that taketh away the sin of the world.
[John 1:29]

He was despised and rejected of men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
He gave His back to the smiters,
and His cheeks to them
that plucked off the hair;
He hid not His face from shame and spitting.
[Isaiah 53:3; 50:6]

Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried out
sorrows. He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities,
the chastisement of our peace was upon Him.
And with His stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray,
we have turned every one to his own way.
And the Lord hath laid on Him
the iniquity of us all.
[Isaiah 53:4-6]

All they that see Him laugh Him to scorn:
they shoot out their lips, and shake their heads,
saying:
[Psalms 22:8]

He trusted in God that He would deliver Him:
let Him deliver Him, if He delight in Him.
[Psalms 22:9]

Thy rebuke hath broken His heart; He is full of
heaviness: he looked for some to have pity on
Him, but there was no man,
neither found He any, to comfort Him
[Psalms 69:21]

Behold and see if there be any sorrow
like unto His sorrow.
[Lamentations 1:12]

He was cut off out of the land of the living, for the
transgression of Thy people was He stricken.
[Isaiah 53:8]

But Thou didst not leave His soul in hell,
nor didst Thou suffer Thy Holy One
to see corruption.
[Psalms 16:10]

Lift up your heads, O ye gates,
and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors,
and the King of Glory shall come in.
Who is this King of Glory?
The Lord strong and mighty,
the Lord mighty in battle.
The Lord of Hosts:
He is the King of Glory.
[Psalms 24:7-10]

Unto which of the angels said He at any time,
Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten Thee?
[Hebrews 1:5]

Let all the angels of God worship Him.
[Hebrews 1:6]

Thou are gone up on high,
Thou hast led captivity captive, and received gifts
for men, yea even for Thine enemies,
that the Lord God might dwell among them.
[Psalms 68:18]

The Lord gave the word,
great was the company of the preachers.
[Psalms 68:12]

How beautiful are the feet of them
that preach the gospel of peace,
and bring glad tidings of good things.
[Romans 10:15]

Their sound is gone out into all lands,
and their words unto the ends of the world.
[Romans 10:18]

Why do the nations so furiously rage together,
and why do the people imagine a vain thing?
The kings of the earth rise up,
and the rulers take counsel together,
against the Lord and His Anointed.
[Psalms 2:1-2]

Let us break their bonds asunder,
and cast away their yokes from us.
[Psalms 2:3]

He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh them to
scorn: the Lord shall have them in derision.
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron;
Thou shalt dash them in pieces
like a potter's vessel.
[Psalms 2:4,9]

Hallelujah!
for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.
The kingdom of this world is become the
kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ;
and He shall reign for ever and ever.
King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.
[Revelation 19:6; 11:15; 19:16]

Part III

I know that my redeemer liveth,
and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the
earth: and though worms destroy this body,
yet in my flesh shall I see God.
For now is Christ risen from the dead,
the first fruits of them that sleep.
[Job 19:25-26; I Corinthians 15:20]

Since by man came death,
by man came also the resurrection of the dead.
For as in Adam all die,
even so in Christ shall all be made alive.
[I Corinthians 15:21-22]

Behold, I tell you a mystery:
we shall not sleep,
but we shall all be changed in a moment,
in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.
The trumpet shall sound,
and the dead shall be raised incorruptible,
and we shall be changed.
For this corruptible must put on incorruption,
and this mortal must put on immortality.
[I Corinthians 15:51-53]

Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is
written, Death is swallowed up in victory.
[I Corinthians 15:54]

O Death, where is thy sting?
O Grave, where is thy victory?
The sting of death is sin,
and the strength of sin is the law.
[I Corinthians 15:55-56]

But thanks be to God who giveth us the victory,
through our Lord Jesus Christ.
[I Corinthians 15:57]

If God be for us, who can be against us?
Who shall lay anything to the charge
of God's elect?
It is God that justifieth,
who is he that condemneth?
It is Christ that died,
yea rather that is risen again,
who is at the right hand of God,
who makes intercessions for us.
[Romans 8:31, 33-34]

Worthy is the lamb that was slain,
and hath redeemed us to God by his blood,
to receive power, and riches, and wisdom,
and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.
Blessing and honour, glory and power be unto
Him that sitteth upon the throne,
and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever.
[Revelation 5:12-13]

Amen

If continued....

Robs Christmas Sestina

I have given plenty of warning: yes, I write poetry. It is an unsociable habit, right up there with picking your nose and expansive belches and farts in public. Nevertheless, below you will find my take on a christmas sestina. It is one of the most difficult verse forms known; I am proud of it. If you don't like the poem, at least admire the scholarly notes following.

Rob’s Sestina: Christmas

I can’t imagine I’m not like everyone, like everyone I had a usual childhood:
so many things were strange and new, the world was often amazing and wonderful.
Even the things like birthdays and Christmas coming again and again, year after year.
There is that moment for every child I think, one you don’t forget, a special kind of joy,
no matter how new each year, even for a child it feels familiar,
that time in the morning before the grownups get up, and you think: its really Christmas!

You get older, that moment moves to later in the day (its really Christmas!)
Now perhaps it’s the discrete greedy rush for presents (we never lose all of our childhood),
or perhaps it is dinner, the same comfortable food and family that are so familiar.
Or it’s the walk at night amidst giant shining new snowflakes and stars, and its so wonderful.
Whatever it is, there is still that sense, of specialness really, of joy,
it is all one continuous Christmas Day, just ignoring the rest of the dreary year.

Or the feeling can come earlier, like it does for me now each year:
its not the Day, or the Eve, but in the weeks leading up to Christmas,
when I get tired and frazzled and worried and think: what joy? What joy?
Because for adults it becomes much more (and yet less) work than it was in childhood.
Being grownup is, I suppose, all about working to make things wonderful,
instead of just having them be wonderful by themselves, no matter how familiar.

But that’s the whole thing about it: just when you think its familiar,
it can become something all new, bit by bit, year by year.
Then you stop suddenly, and think to yourself: isn’t that wonderful?
That old becomes new, and new things old, and isn’t that exactly Christmas?
It was something maybe understood and forgotten in childhood,
that important things turned inside out and upside down and still the same, really are joy.

I often worry that as an adult I’ve lost my sense of joy,
because it can be so hard to see the wonder in the familiar.
Well, the miracle of our lives is our children; in their childhood,
they teach us so much as they are, so you hate each thieving trespassing year.
No child’s greed can touch an adult’s, its why we so love Christmas,
when for a little bit, childhood can last forever, and once again life is wonderful.

Small things: stuffing and sweets are usually what make us say “Wonderful!”
and later only later it’s the small pieces of wonder that make you remember it was joy,
in the end its the smallest piece of joy which really makes it Christmas,
that arresting amazement that appears every Christmas that is so familiar.
It always seems so strange and familiar when it’s over, and then to say, well, another Year.
Still, its wonderful and familiar and joyful every year when we celebrate Childhood.

It is wonderful that the wonderful can be found in the deeply familiar,
that there is joyous joy in the small greedy repetition of each year.
If we are children of god, at Christmas perhaps its both god’s new and our own old childhood.


History

The Sestina is a French form, attributed to a troubadour named Arnaut Daniel in the twelfth century. To be technical, it is in the “trobar clus” complex difficult closed style, as opposed to the easier “trobar leu.” No, I have no idea what that means.

In a traditional Sestina the lines are grouped into six sestets and a concluding tercet. Thus a Sestina has 39 lines (though a double sestina is possible, reversing the order described below for the next six stanza, resulting in either 67 or more rarely 70 lines, depending on how you handle tercets). Lines may be of any length, and traditionally should be unrhymed, although various poets have attempted that, notably Swineburne. Line length is usually roughly consistent in a single poem, making for a conversational style.

The Rules
The six words that end each of the lines of the first stanza are repeated in a different order at the end of lines in each of the subsequent five stanzas: the last word in the last line of each stanza becomes the last word in the first line of the next. The second line ends with the word that ended the first line of the preceding stanza, and the pattern repeats, so that if the first stanza’s last words are a, b, c, d, e, f; the next stanza will be f, a, e, b, d, c, ie last, first, second last, second, third last, third; and so on (ie the third stanza would then be c, f, d, a, b, e). After six stanzas the matter is done, as the rotation is complete. The neat thing is that you can just kill off the top stanza, and add a new one at the end, and it still will work. Though I have found it generally easier to write them backwards.

Did I mention that this is insanely difficult in practise? Just try it yourself once.

A Sestina concludes with an envoi or tercet, in which each of the six words are used, with one in the middle of each line and one at the end, ideally in a pattern; although there seems to be some disagreement about it, it seems that the most accepted pattern is to end each of the three lines with the same word that ended each of the last three lines of the last/preceding stanza, with the matching words ending the first three lines used in the body of the appropriate line (ie last stanza 123456 would become (1)4, (2)5, (3)6, or, from the initial stanza, (b) e, (d) c, (f) a.)

The Feel
Probably every poet worth his salt has tried this at one time or another; the most technically perfect was by Swinburne (“Sestina”), amazing in that it rhymes and has nearly perfect rhythm, and basically makes sense, though it is generally conceded to be somewhat pointless; the most famous is by Kipling (“Sestina of the Tramp Royal”), which though good makes you realize how fundamentally dull the form can be (which is kinda the point of the topic of the poem, I suppose, it’s all about the thudding of the engine); and the best probably by Ezra Pound (“Sestina: Altaforte”), which is as crazy and wonderful as he was.

Possibly the best word to describe the feel of a sestina is “obsessive,” which rather fits the troubadour spirit I suspect. Maybe it only works if its about something you want but can’t have, those troubadour guys gave us the whole idea of Romance after all.

But for me, writing one, I felt like I was in the sea, far out with big waves putting me up and down and no sight of the faraway shore, so that I had to both relax and have patience, and take my time with plugging away at it.

If continued....

oopsydaisy

Yes, I've been tinkering where I probably shouldn't have been. But goddamn but blogger has been like moving in three feet of mud lately. I suspect googleanalytics might have something to do with it. I suppose if I keep this thing up, I am going to have to invest $100 in my own domain so I can get the thing hosted on something a little more reliable. As I keep telling people, you get what you pay for, and I paid absolutely nothing for this. Well, I don't get anything either.

If continued....

The Big Speech

I think I have it. I think I figured out what to say in my Annual Big Speech.

I do a fair amount of public speaking. It is very weird, I get very nervous in front of some crowds, and have no fear at all in front of others. Generally, the larger the crowd the easier it is, I think, but the determining factor tends to be occasions when I speak in front of what I think of as my colleagues. I have addressed associations of rich and powerful oil executives with aplomb; put me in front of an audience of 10 CCR types, and I get shaky. Worst of all is speaking in front of family and friends. I guess it has to do with people whose criticism matters. Who can call me on stuff maybe.

But for about 5 years in Winnipeg, and now 5 here, I have been a member of the United Way Speakers' Bureau, where we go out on rotation to companies and extoll the virtues of giving to the United Way, being the guys that actually spend the money you folks donate. I do anywhere between 5 and 10 "speaks" each year, to audiences ranging from three to I kid you not 1500. I rather enjoy it really, I know nobody in the audience, and it is highly unlikely that I will meet any of them again. More importantly, I can talk about what counts, what motivates me, to a bunch of people that tend to be pretty receptive, about something that they don't think about much from day to day. I really like listening to them, the questions I get, it tells me so much about where thinking is at.

It is deeply reassuring really; my assessment is that the Canadian public is now very far in front of the politicians and pundits on issues that matter dearly to me. They sure weren't, back when I started doing this kind of thing in the 80's. It was pretty rough then, in some ways.

What I am particularly enjoying is the feedback. In this day and age, everything is evaluated, and I get the written feedback after every speak. Oh gosh but it highly ego-stroking, it is all "excellent" on the scores and words like "mesmerizing" and "powerful" on the commentary section. I really enjoy doing it, and it is so nice to know that the audience is enjoying it too.

But every mid-December, I give what I regard as my Important Speech (this year, it will be next Wednesday). The staff of the Catholic School Board have a deal where they give christmas presents to us, instead of to each other, called Staff A Gift. Between them and the United Way, we round up something between 1500 and 2000 toys each year, which we then distribute to newly arrived refugee and immigrant kids.

In return, I have the choir from my daycare sing a few carols (they are just an insanely cute bunch of 4 year old multiethinic unselfconscious kids), and then I have to get up and make a speech. Next year's donation is heavily influenced by this years' speech, to be sure, but it is also one of the few chances I get to address the people that give me the tools to do what I do directly. I take it very seriously indeed. It is getting harder and harder not to repeat myself, and still do a good job with it.

I've been fretting about this year's for almost a month now, I was totally blank, but this morning I think I might have found a way in. Well, we'll see.

(Yes, I'll post it here. Well, if I think it is any good. Rob's Christmas homily, if you wish.)

If continued....

Enemies List

It turns out that this is a little tougher to do in practise than in theory. But I always thought that Nixon was kind of on the right track; it is just plain fun to sit there in the dark chewing over the bone-ends of your resentments, mumbling about who'd you like to get, and who is out to get you. Turns out that I'm not good at it. Basically, I got bored. That, and this:

In the event, I decided not to go with individuals; I find individuals to be just too quixotic. While I am sure (and could name) a few individuals that would probably like to "get" me if they could, on a fairly personal level, I am not sure that the feeling is entirely mutual. And there are a few individuals that are my professional if not personal opponents, and I mean professional in the largest sense, in that they hate and despise my profession, or rather, the central concern of my profession. To mention them is to debate them, and that is something I would only want to do in agreed and honourable circumstances, and from what I know of most of them, they have little honour. And there are petty professional opponents, competitors really, that use what I think of as small minded (and generally ineffective) tactics, and I don't want to talk about them at all (which really probably totally burns their ass). There just aren't that many opponents I want to give the credit of being debatable with.

So I figured, go for organizations. That turned out to be tricky too. First of all, I really can't slam foreign governments, because they really aren't after me and mine, except in the largest sense, in which case the list would be very long indeed, and pretty obvious. Even the organizations that directly affect me are problematic: the Calgary Board of Education, or Citizenship & Immigration Canada for instance. I think that both have done harm to me and mine, and will again in the future, but they have also, from time to time, done some good for me and mine. So I couldn't in all good conscience put them in.

I think that mostly I wanted to rant about the CRTC and the MPAA, but really, they have already totally lost, they just don't fully realize it yet. Oh, and I think that you could wind up the department of Canadian Heritage without anybody really noticing, which, sponsorship scandal notwithstanding, could be done in an eyeblink. Incidentally, in the dying days of the sponsorship program, desperate for non-Quebec things to fund, they sent out invites to the rest of canada to apply for funding-- I applied, figuring that my Canada Day event here in Alberta could do with a little federal presence. They felt otherwise (here in the Prairies, you do kind of think that the central canadians that run the country have pretty much written us off), but I have had the privilige of corresponding with several names now before Gomery.

That is kind of the point I think: the stupid and evil will pretty reliably trip over their own swords at some point eventually. It's the whole mills of god thing, and giving enough rope thing. As I get older, I get more and more certain that evil is closely allied with stupidity. With (as my teenage son puts it) Things You Didn't Think All the Way Through. One of my own personal heroes is Wile Coyote, the perfect example, and a pretty good examplar about how I feel about my own personal bad guys.

Mind you, I'm a little warped. I think the funniest bit of cinematic history, and pretty dependably garaunteed to put me on the floor holding my ribs, is the Kill da Wabbit piece. I do dearly love Elmer Fudd. It is so hard to hate someone you both love and laugh at.

So sorry, though I promised it, no enemies list here. Call me Mr. Fudd. I am profoundly reluctant to kill da wabbit.

If continued....

Environment: National

So we are going to have an election, and it is clearly going to be about as nasty as we ever so polite Canadians can manage. (We're what three days into it and Harper has already use the phrase 'organized crime' and Martin 'bunch of bigots'.) As a nation, we are caught up in a terrible connundrum: there is a pretty clear consensus I think that our current government truly deeply sucks, is utterly corrupt and without principle, and fully deserve's Stephen Harper's characterization.

For me personally, it isn't even the Adscam/Gomery thing, nor even the repulsive sense of entitlement attitude behind it. No, for me it is the slimy condescending attitude: everything is now "over five years" etc ie we have to lock into a long term contract to get the goodies. Personally, when salesmen try and lay that kind of shit on me, I walk. Because I know that they are lieing. The distance between used car salesmen and Liberal politicians has never been smaller, to my mind.

The problem is, what to do about it. The Liberals have been winning by Homer Simpson's favourite two words, "De Fault" for so long now, and it is true, they are the only truly national party, able to elect MPs in every province.

I really hate to say this, I really really hate to say this, but I think that Harper's Conservatives deserve a chance. Let's find out if they really are socially conservative psychopaths. Let's find out if they really are the closet Republicans that the Liberals make them out to be. I think an inevitably minority government might be a really good place to run that test. If I was in a riding that was even faintly contestable, I would be very tempted indeed to vote Conservative. Though I would no doubt hate myself a good deal in the morning. Or for sure, if the NDP candidate has even a faint chance, vote for her/him, so that they can extract as much socialist goodness from whoever ends up in minority government

[Note to non-Canadian readers: you cannot transfer political affliliations across borders. The Canadian Liberal Party is not allied with nor a branch plant of the US Democratic Party, nor of the British Labour Party. I don't think that the US Republican Party has much of an analogy outside of Putin's Russia, if that. In seeing things through the reverse US lens, well, there are kleptoplutocrats, ie Republicans and Democrats, and then there is everyone else.]

If continued....