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Showing posts from February, 2015

On Vince Li: A High-Wire Act


Vince Li, the schizophrenic man who beheaded and partially ate a fellow passenger on a Greyhound bus in 2008 (and if that doesn't warn you enough, my Breadbin entry is not pleasant reading)--Li has just been granted unsupervised day passes from the psychiatric institution he's been locked in since being found not criminally responsible for the attack. (This link leads you to a 16x9 documentary that is hard to watch, but VERY MUCH worth it).

The reaction is unanimous and harsh, to put it mildly--just as it was when Li was found not criminally responsible instead of guilty. It is glaringly obvious that the Canadian public does not believe in mental illness...or if it does, it makes less than zero allowances for it. "Not criminally responsible" (NCR)  is a verdict that Canadians by and large do not understand and do not accept. This is to be expected since the vast majority of Canadians do not understand and do …

Lock Up Your Kids, It's Sex Ed Time

I'm sorry for recycling, but current events beckon.

I wrote back in 2010 about Ontario's aborted attempt at updating the sexual education curriculum to better reflect reality. A small but determined cohort of parents raised an outcry because s-e-x and the government caved.

Now they have a majority, and there's no caving this time around. Our new curriculum is mandatory: you are not permitted to remove your children from its pernicious influence.


edit: an update states that parents will have the ability to opt their kids out. If they do that, they should have to opt out of the rest of school, too, as far as I'm concerned...

I will stand by this assertion unto the end of time: any parent who believes he/she is the best, let alone the only, authority to teach a child about sex is in fact the LEAST qualified person to do it. 

I've already heard from one outraged friend who says she'll pull her child from school to keep him from being exposed to this curriculum…

Oscar Musings

So I'm watching the Oscars for some reason.
I'm really not sure why.  I care about the Academy Awards about half a smidgen more than I do about the Super Bowl (which is the only bigger television event of the year.) Seventeen minutes of football and three and a half interminable hours of self-congratulatory tedium, and these are the most popular events on television every year? And people wonder why I hardly watch television?

I've seen exactly one of the movies nominated for Best Picture,  one of the nominated performances in the Best Actor and Best Actress category, and blah blah blah need I go further?
Okay, actually the only real reason I've tuned in is Neil Patrick Harris. I've watched some of his work hosting the Tonys and I'm pretty sure he's going to knock this out of the park. And be invited back.
But as for the movies...don't care.
And I especially don't care about the "red carpet" and the question "who are you wearing?&quo…

Time To Laugh At Ken Again

So my father is turning 70 this year, in late June.

That's a milestone birthday, a day that should be planned for. Something should happen on that day.
Preferably some kind of surprise thing, if that can somehow be arranged. The planning should probably

Even getting those plans rolling without tipping Dad off is a challenge. I can't just email my stepmom, because they only have the one email address and so far as I know, my dad checks the emails much more often than she does. I can't call for the same reason: if he picks up the phone, as he often does, it's out of character for me to ask to speak to his wife.

Besides, Eva wants in on the planning. Helping to plan things like this is something she just loves to do. But she tasked me with the first step.

Go to contact stepsister. Realize that even though her email address is really simple, I can't recall it. Search mailbox: my father often sends things to both of us, or forwards things that came…

I Cried

In case you don't actually know me...I'm what you'd call a sensitive guy.

Not that sensitive. I hope. Please, not that sensitive.

But I can be brought to tears pretty easily for a human being of the male persuasion. Even now, thinking about Georgia-Peach invariably makes me cry. I've loved every dog I've had in my life, but never have I loved an animal the way I loved her.
It doesn't take something make my eyes leak, either. Books will make me cry. Stephen King, of all people, has provoked more tears in me than any other author (if you don't cry reading 11/22/63, you are dead and do not know it, and that's to say nothing of The Green Mile, which had me sucking back salty snot-blubber cocktails like I'd fallen off the tear-wagon and was making up for lost time).

Movies can make me bawl. I remember seeing MASK when I was 14 or so...when that movie ended, I went to my room, closed the door, collapsed on my bed, and cried so hard I ran…

Am I supposed to be impressed?

...because I'm not. At all.

She's 83 years old. Doesn't look it, does she? The white hair aside, she looks considerably younger. Not a wrinkle on her, at least where somebody might see it. Radiant skin (no doubt helped with a generous amount of makeup). Ho hum.

This is supposedly a big deal, an 83-year old on the cover of a fashion magazine. Whatever. Wake me up with someone dares to put someone who LOOKS 83 on the cover of a fashion magazine.

Our society's obsession with youth continues apace. I'd have thought it would have started to fade by now, as the Baby Boomers hit retirement age. I should have known better. These people will get face transplants so they look younger in their goddamn coffins.

The first point I'd like to make about the "iconic" Carmen Dell'Orefice is that she's probably at least a millionaire, more likely several times over. People who conform precisely to our society's beauty standard tend to be handsomely rewarde…

To All The Girls (and yes, a couple of guys) I've Loved Before

...and still do.

A Musical Journey
That title is, of course, from a song by Willie Nelson and Julio Inglesias. I hate it. Fans of these artists, please forgive me, but Nelson's voice sounds like a robot with a head cold to me and Julio is just so...swishy (and not in a good way).

But the sentiment behind the title is one I can really get behind, of course, since love and music sustain me. In fact, most of the time love and music seem like the same thing to me.

The first love song I ever sang to someone was a waaaay back in grade three. Unsurprisingly given how I turned out (and Laura had more to do with that than she'd have ever guessed), it's something of an unconventional love song: Let It Be by the Beatles. Laura was also the recipient of the first love-gift I ever gave, a little seal keychain with the words "Let It Be" on it.

"Let It Be", come to think of it, pretty much describes my current philosophy on relationships in three words.  They say hind…

February's PolyBlog: Metamourically Speaking


The other day, someone called me an "advocate" for polyamory. Which scared me a little, because it sounded like just one step removed from "preacher", which as you know, I have no least desire to be.


Upon reflection, I have decided to embrace the label. Given some of the vicious attacks I have experienced in the past month online, and further given the extremely common misconceptions of what "poly" is and is not, I feel duty-bound to raise my voice. I've also noted that my monthly "poly" blogs are among my most read. I'm not sure what that means, exactly, but I'm going to assume that my current pace of one blog a month isn't discomfiting you overmuch. If that is not the are never under any obligation to read.


I sat on the bed. Neither of us said anything. I wasn't slick and sophisticated enough for this. What do you say to boyfriend A when he finds you naked in the bed …

Crossing the Floor

"I can no longer support mean-spirited leadership that divides people instead of bringing them together" --Eve Adams, on her transformation from Conservative to Liberal Member of Parliament

Curious wording, that. Doesn't that mean that she could support mean-spirited leadership up until just now?

Everyone knows by now that I am not a fan of Stephen Harper and his Conservatives, which means I'm probably supposed to be cheering that they're down an MP this morning. I'm not, at all.

"Crossing the floor" happens so often in Canadian politics that it's almost as if the chairs have lice or something. Federally, though, it's a little more rare and it's big news when it happens. The tea leaves are read and the auguries augured: what does this mean for the scorned party? Is the adopted party any better off with someone whose very political identity is changeable? (Was (s)he bought?)

I don't agree with crossing the floor. While it's a perf…

A Day For The Aged

This one's going to ramble. I will not offer apologies: I'm in too good a mood for that.


Birthdays used to be a pretty big deal in my house, growing up. Function of being a de facto only child, I think, especially one whose twin died at two days of age and who was touch and go for a while to live himself. I'm also a child of divorce, which meant that birthdays and Christmases were doubled. My mom spoiled me rotten and my dad, who didn't see me all that often, tried to pack a year's worth of affection and trinkets into his limited time with me.

This is very different from the way Eva was raised. She had the parties and such that most of us do, but somewhere in her pre-teen years they kind of petered out: still observed, but not a huge fuss made over them, or her. She was brought up practical and self-reliant and unsentimental. Birthdays, after a time, became childish and unnecessary, and to this day she's very apt to forget them entirely. They just …

An Open Letter to Justin Trudeau

Dear Justin,

Look. you don't know me from Adam's off ox. I emailed to volunteer for you a month ago, and I got a nice welcome letter back with a sentence at the end saying someone would be in touch with me soon.

A month ago.

Now, I'm a nobody. I'm just a  middle aged white male in the vote-rich province of Ontario and I only have one vote, same as anyone else. I was thinking very strongly of not only using it on you, but doing my best to drum up more votes for you.

I read your memoir, COMMON GROUND, and it impressed me. I, too, am a consensus builder, and I'm sick and tired of the current government that thinks consensus is a bad word. (Rhymes with census, that's probably why. Hey, it's no more or less arbitrary than their visceral dislike of other words, such as privacy, constitutionality, and science...) You, on the other hand, are both a wide and deep thinker and you appear to have a genuine knack for connecting with people. In a Canada where the federal…