Be vewwy, vewwy, qwiet. I'm hunting tagwines.

Long, long ago, in a place a little more than two miles away, I attended university. After first year, of course, I attended the computer labs a great deal more than I did any of my classes. I probably should have majored in Computer Science; I doubt the professors read textbooks at you in those classes. Not to mention I could be working for Research In Motion along about now, rather than stocking shelves.
Ah, well, it was fun while it lasted.
One of the things I spent an inordinate amount of time doing was collecting "taglines": short, pithy sayings about anything and everything. At one point I had over a thousand of them, and I had written a little program that randomly appended one to any of my posts or emails.

I've just discovered that somebody, somewhere thought my tagline collection (an early version thereof) interesting enough to preserve. Ya gotta love the Internet: for trips down memory lane, it can't be beat.

Some of these are definitely of the "you had to be there" variety. Others are funny only to computer geeks. A few of them are actually orginal to me. I found myself chuckling in recognition and delight more than once. So, I hope will you. Without further ado, Ken's Reliquary of Ancient Taglines:

"Beam me aboard, Scotty!" [-] "Will a 2 X 4 do, Captain?"
"Daddy, what does FORMATTING DRIVE C mean?"
"Artist seeks Boss with vision impairment."
"Happiness is a warm puppy", said the anaconda."
Nietzsche is dead." --God.
[-------- The information went data way --------]
[tap] [tap] [tap] Is this thing on?
2 rules to success in life. 1. Don't tell people everything you know.
90% of everything is crud. The remainder is outright shit.
A hangover: the wrath of grapes.
A Shower is the halfway point between Bed and World.
A good pun is its own reword.
A belly button is for salt when you eat celery in bed.
A flying saucer results when a nudist spills his coffee.
A penny for your thoughts; $20 to act them out.
A good hot dog feeds the hand that bites it.
A professor is one who talks in someone else's sleep.
A)bort, R)etry, I)gnore, V)alium?
A)bort R)etry I)nfluence with large hammer.
Ability is a good thing but stability is even better.
Absence makes the heart grow fungus. (The Barenaked Ladies)
After silence, music comes closest to expressing the inexpressible.
After all is said and done, usually more is said.
All wiyht. Rho sritched mg kegtops awound?
All I ask is to prove that money can't make me happy.
Any man who can see through women is sure missing a lot.
Anything not nailed down is mine. Anything I can pry up is not nailed down.
Apathy Error: Don't bother striking any key.
Are dog biscuits made from collie flour?
As they say in Beirut, Shiite happens.
Backup not found: A)bort, R)etry, M)assive heart failure?
Backups? We doan *NEED* no steenking baX%^~,VbKx NO CARRIER
Bad command or file name. Go stand in the corner.
Best diet: Eat as much as you want, but don't swallow it.
Blessed are the censors; they shall inhibit the earth.
Boy: A noise with dirt on it.
Boys will be boys, and so will a lot of middle-aged men.
Budget: A method for going broke methodically.
Bureaucrat, n.: A person who cuts red tape sideways.
California raisins murdered! Cereal killer suspected.
Cats took many thousands of years to domesticate humans.
Cleanliness is next to clean-limbed, in the dictionary.
Close your eyes and press escape three times.
Cole's Law: Thinly sliced cabbage.
Commit suicide. A hundred thousand lemmings can't be wrong.
Conscience is what hurts when everything else feels good.
Despite the high cost of living, it remains popular.
Does Time pass? Yes, it does. How else can you explain Visa bills?
Don't sweat the petty things, just pet the sweaty things.
Don't you hate it when life doesn't follow the manuals?
Don't judge a book by its mini-series.
Down with categorical imperatives.
Dynamic linking error: Your mistake is now everywhere.
Earth was interesting, and worth the money I paid for it.
Eleven tons of hair stolen. Police combing area.
God is REAL, unless explicitly declared INTEGER.
Horse sense is the thing a horse has that keeps it from betting on people.
I know I have a purpose because I always seem to need deodorant.
I went to the Net and all I got was this stupid tagline.
I hate laundry month.
I do a lot of thinking in the john. Says a lot for my thoughts.
If laws were outlawed, only outlaws would be lawyers.
It's always darkest just before it goes pitch black.
Love: the word that paints a thousand pictures.
Most of us hate to see a poor loser. Rich winners, though, are worse.
Mr. Bullfrog sez: Time is fun when you're having flies.
Multitasking allows screwing up several things at once.
Music is the only sensual pleasure without vice.
My opinions are not those of my ex-employer.
My other tagline is a footnote.
My Go this amn keyboar oesn't have any 's.
My computer NEVER cras
My last cow just died, so I won't need your bull anymore.
Never forget: 2 + 2 = 5 for extremely large values of 2.
Never hit a man with glasses. Use your fist.
Never call a man a fool. Instead, borrow from him.
Never, never, never *MOON* a werewolf.
Never deprive someone of hope; it may be all they have.
Never put off till tomorrow what you can ignore entirely.
Never eat prunes when you're famished.
Never enough time, unless you're serving it.
Next time you wave at me, use more than one finger, please.
No wanna work. Wanna bang on keyboard.
Nobody can be just like me. Even I have trouble.
Nobody ever goes there, it's too crowded. (Yogi Berra)
Nobody has ever, ever, EVER learned all of WordPerfect.
Nobody home but the lights, and they're out too.
Pardon me, waiter. I like my water diluted.
Politics: n. from Greek; "poli"-many; "tics"-ugly, bloodsucking parasites.
Santa, how much for the list of naughty girls?
Scratch here to reveal your prize ################
Sign seen on door: C I T Y P L A N N ING
Spam Lite: with meat products like these, who needs taglines?
The early worm deserves the bird.
The glass is half full--and what's in it has gone rancid.
The world's coming to an end. Log off and leave in an orderly fashion.
There is a 70% probability of tomorrow. (actual weatherman quote. 1988)
These are only my opinions. You should see my convictions.
To define recursion, we must first define recursion.
Two wrongs don't make a right, but three lefts do.
What if there were no hypothetical situations? (Andrew Kohlsmith)
When in doubt, do as doubters do.
When things look dark, hold your head high so it can rain up your nose. (Cathy Clare)
Why take life seriously? You're not coming out of it alive anyway!
Working in a McDonald's kitchen: one [beep]ing thing after another
...ZAP! Process discontinued. Enter any 12-digit prime number to resume.

The Puck Will Drop Again

News from the blueline: hockey's back. After 301 days and the league's seven hundred odd players being run over by the Bettmobile, the puck will drop again.
As nearly everybody predicted, the owners won the war--or rather, some of them did. The suits owning teams in hockey meccas like Miami and Raleigh will find their victory a tad Pyrrhic--the safe bet is that at least a few of those teams will go pads-up in the next year or two.
And really, that's a good thing. One of the NHL's biggest problems is the dilution of its talent level. A few years back, the Hockey News ran an intriguing "what if" article, to wit: what if there were only six teams in the NHL today? You should have seen the prospective lineups of those mock teams--a fan of the game would have little choice but to drool all over him or herself. Mats Sundin was, as I recall, a fourth line center.
Then there's the other big problem the NHL still faces--also related, oddly enough, to expansion.
Did you know that they were giving away tickets to the Stanley Cup FINAL in Tampa Bay? I'm sorry to any Lightning fans out there, but c'mon...it's obviously high time that particular franchise got relocated or dissolved. What really gets me is that the Lightning's season attendance was fairly respectable: they ranked 12th out of 30 teams. What kind of fan base deserts its team the closer that team gets to a championship?

The bottom six teams in attendance for the 2003-2004 season were:

Washington: a team spinning its wheels. This franchise has had some excellent players over the years, but they seem to be traded faster than they're acquired. Fan interest has slipped tremendously: the attendance ranking has fallen from 13th to 25th in only three seasons. Perhaps Ovechkin can make a difference: the fans will support a winner.

New York Islanders: Attendance was dead last (3oth) in 2000-2001. They climbed to 22nd in 2002-2003 but slipped to 26th last season. Fan favorites are routinely traded away. For years, this has been a case study of wasted potential.

Chicago: I take that back. The Blackhawks have been an utter waste for the better part of the last decade. When you specialize in players rejected by the Toronto Maple Leafs, you've got a problem. Still, through sheer futility they've managed to find some serious young talent. I think they'll make waves this year. Whether the fans come out to surf them is anyone's guess.

Nashville: Who decided Dollywood needed a hockey team? Here again, the sucking sound you hear isn't just coming from the players, but from the fans deserting them in droves. A good chance at success under the new CBA...but does anybody care?

Carolina: For the love of God, get this team out of NASCAR country. They play to phalanxes of empty seats every night. Karmanos said his team was losing less money during the lockout than they would have had they played. He felt this pointed to a huge imbalance in the league. Maybe it does, but Peter, it also means your team sucks.

And finally, Pittsburgh. Arguably the greatest talent the game has ever seen isn't even close to saving this franchise. Mario, I'm not entirely sure what the Big One is, but your Penguins bite it.
--------------------------------

The next week or two is going to be the most exciting time in this hockey fan's life--given that he was born five years after the Leafs last visited the Stanley Cup Finals. (Ouch. That hurts to say.) The league is going to undergo a wholesale, deep-sea change. It'll be like a fantasy league pool. Past success is no guarantee of future promise: in fact, rather the opposite. Teams like Detroit and Toronto are going to be hard-pressed to make the playoffs, while such sad sacks as Chicago and Nashville will be instant contenders if they play their cards right. And whoever lands Sidney Crosby will be in for a treat.
I will comment on the rule changes when they come to pass, except to say this: I HATE SHOOTOUTS. It's a crappy way to win a game, and a crappier way to lose one. I myself favour unlimited overtime, with no points for a regulation tie. and I don't care if both teams play tomorrow night. With no sure point in sight, I'll bet you anything teams will do their utmost to end it early.
As for the oft-cited malaise that supposedly grips the paying public, I say 'pshaw'! Oh, no doubt attendance will be down for a while--unless the owners get smart and drop their ticket prices, say, 24 percent. (Yeah, and Tie Domi will win the Rocket Richard Trophy this year.) But people will still watch on TV. It's true, we found we could abide a season without hockey. But there's a difference between puttering around the house on a hockeyless Saturday night and deliberately avoiding the living room while the game's in progress.

Drop the puck, already.

The Penultimate Potter

"Those who like this sort of thing will find this is the sort of thing they like."
--Abraham Lincoln

"Those who like it, like it a lot."
--Canadian beer commercial

I was nearly late for work this morning because I was trying to finish the last 50 pages of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince over breakfast. (Couldn't...quite...do it, although I finished it as soon as I got home today; would have had it polished off on Sunday, were it not for a very busy weekend away from home.)
As an aspiring writer and a voracious reader, I envy Joanne Kathleen Rowling her phenomenal ability. Critics who--especially with this latest tome--suggest her prose is pedestrian at best, and that she's afflicted with literary bloat, miss the point entirely.
Yes, a nitpicking niggler can make an argument that the last three Harry Potter novels were each at least a hundred pages too long. I suppose one can also assert that Rowling isn't in the class of a Tolkien or even a C.S. Lewis. So what? These days--and my apologies to all you legions of Lord of the Rings and Narnia fans--these days, anybody writing like Tolkien or Lewis marks him or herself as an instant fuddy-duddy.
J.K. Rowling is, at this point, editor-proof. She knows it, and likely her editor does too. "Cut out that subplot that goes nowhere? You're kidding, right?"
And she's got a point. Here's one reader who wouldn't complain if each book was twelve hundred pages long and Rowling spent half of that describing a Weasley shopping trip. "It's the world, stupid!" Rowling is remarkable at world-building. She effortlessly throws in details to make her books seem all the more real, even though they are pure fantasy: the belching wastebuckets, the live-action paintings and photographs, the books that scream and lunge...
And the characters! Rarely has any soi-disant "children's writer" imagined such vivid, complex characters. There's one particular character named Snape of whom I have totally changed my opinion about six times now. (For those of you who have also finished this book, and without giving anything away, at this point I believe Snape is on the side of the angels: further events in Book Seven should bear me out. But I cheerfully conclude I may be off my Knut.)
Speaking of Book Seven, I understand Rowling's finished it. She says she's left Harry Potter behind and will move on to other projects. I wish her well, and I will at least consider buying anything else the woman writes. As far as I am concerned, she's earned every penny she's made.
I was saddened to finish this book. Now I must cast about for something, probably inferior, to read...

Wow...doesn't SHE look healthy?

In Titanic, Jack Dawson, in his first meeting with Rose DeWitt-Bukater, says quite memorably that she looks like "kind of an indoor girl".
Well, I like to think I don't have the pretension of the DeWitt-Bukater family, but I'm certainly an indoor guy. Especially these days.
I remember the first time I felt like my neck hairs were smoldering. It was a hellishly hot day sometime in the summer of 1987. I was helping my stepfather weed a parking lot in Stratford...long story. Anyway, the day was crystal clear and maybe 30 degrees, and the sun was beaming down like God's own iron...right on the back of my neck. I felt distinctly crispy...not at all a pleasant sensation.
This summer I feel that awful feeling nearly every day. Even on those days where the smog's so thick it looks like airborne gravy, I can still feel the sun, lurking up there, ready to nuke my nape.
I've only had one bad sunburn in my life. La Guaira, Venezuela, 1986. What can I say: the novelty of swimming outside in February must have addled me. Also, in 1986, if there was such a thing as sunscreen, nobody I know had ever heard of it.
After about four hours splashing around in the pool of the Hotel Macuto Sheraton, I emerged quite well done. The ensuing couple of days (when the very air felt as if it was slapping me) and nights (every blanket in the hotel couldn't keep me from shivering, even as the sheets seared into my flesh) permanently nuked any chances I had of becoming a sun-worshipper.
That experience--that ONE SINGLE BLISTERING BURN-- also TRIPLED my chances of developing melanoma.
The attitude of today's teenagers astounds and confounds me. "We're all gonna die of something!" "Shit, eating broccoli gives you cancer!" "Hey, if I'm gonna die, I might as well look healthy while I'm dying!" Healthy.
This, from the same people who are abandoning tobacco in record numbers. Not because of all the diseases smoking causes, but because cigarettes turn your teeth yellow and make you stink.
Hey, tanners: there's a reason they call it "tanning" leather. Look again at that girl in the picture above. Burn that image into your brain. That's what tanning does to you. Attractive, isn't it? And oh, yeah, then it can kill you. Not that you care about that, right, teens?
I don't know why, but I was a different breed of teen animal. If something hurt me, or was likely to hurt me, I either stopped doing it or never did it in the first place. That just struck me as common sense. Hey, I'm nobody's masochist. I believe quite strongly in the concept of "no pain...no pain."
And while it does seem like anything you do in these modern times has potentially lethal consequences, some things are proven more deadly than others. Let's put it this way: if you not only can buy, but are strongly encouraged to buy, a product that protects you from the sun's harmful rays, it follows, as the smog follows the humidex advisory, that the sun's rays are...harmful.
They are now, anyway.
When I was a child, peanut allergies were exceedingly rare. Now peanut butter qualifies as a weapon of mass destruction in schools everywhere.
Ditto--I swear it--lactose intolerance. The market in lactose free milk is, quite simply, booming. I carry nine different varieties on my milk counter--and I'm not listed for everything on the market.
While I seem to be the only person wondering why these afflictions are increasingly common, we all know why it's getting hotter, why the air's getting more polluted, and why my neck hairs fry up golden crisp every day from May to September--and sometimes even in the dead of winter.
The Coppertone era is--as teens would put it, "like so over." It's time we all got with the program. Say it with me: healthy flesh is...flesh-coloured.

Our Tux

I love our Tux.
He's starting to fill out...he's gained about fifteen pounds since we got him. Also, he's mellowed out (for the most part). He still has a touch of separation anxiety: when we get home in the afternoon, his exuberance borders on hysteria. But the rest of the time, he's pretty laid-back and reasonably obedient.
The training progresses. He definitely knows "sit" and "stay". He understands "down" but still is pretty leisurely about obeying that command--unless he knows you'll throw his toy when he obeys: then he goes down like a shot. Likewise, he knows the word "come", but you have to say it very firmly for him to get that you mean he's got to come, and he's got to come now. Once that's gotten through his bear-shaped head, he'll come with alacrity.
On a leash, he's pretty good, all things considered...leaps and bounds better (or rather, no leaps and bounds better) than he was when he arrived. He heels fairly well and will automatically sit when you stop. Distractions are presenting a bit of a challenge for him, though. For instance, if Daddy's walking him and Mommy is ten feet ahead, well, that situation is intolerable for Tux.
But...
I've gotten him to heel without a leash on two occasions--both, I hasten to admit, on our property. He trots into his room without protest each morning and evening. And wow, does he ever love car rides. So much so, I'm almost afraid to type the words "car ride"...God knows, whispering them will cause him to perk his ears up--"did you say 'car ride'? You did! Yay!'--and then thunder down the stairs to wait at the door.
And he loves us, that's undeniable. I'll always be a cat person, but it's hard not to read the love in a dog's eyes without melting.
An article in last week's travel section about a place called Happy Tails Resort (www.happytails.on.ca) caught my attention. It's outside Huntsville, and sounds like heaven on earth for dogs and cats. What's more, the prices are quite reasonable--I wouldn't trust anybody charging any less to take good care of our pet. A few years hence, when we go abroad, we'll make a point of dropping Tux off for his own holiday.
Gotta go play fetch now...

What Hells May Come

12:43 a.m.

The last of the evening rush is starting to wind down. The Blue Jay game was a marathon affair, going 17 innings before the home team finally emerged victorious. Those few hardy spectators who had stuck with their team until the end were just now wending their way homeward along the Yonge-University subway line. Some people were buoyant; others looked exhausted. A few young toughs yukked it up towards the back of the car, using language so laced with teenage slang and profanity that it could only tentatively be identified as English. At the front of the train, a scruffy man repeatedly banged his head against a pole and said "Sheeeeeeeyit" over and over.
The subway driver was anxious for this shift to be over. His new girlfriend had promised to wait up for him, and his mind was mostly on her gentle curves as the train negotiated the long yet rather sharp bend to the west of Union Station. Even if he had been vigilant, though, he almost certainly would have missed the tiny glow of little red numbers that had suddenly winked into existence just down and to the right of the train as it squealed and roared past.

3:30 a.m.
The night watchman at Yorkdale Mall had been there forever. He could walk the place in his sleep--and sometimes did. These days, he felt redundant. If he so much as farted through the cage enclosing that jewellery store, lights would flash, alarms would sound, and the police would descend on him before he could say "just kidding".
He thought it was maybe time to call it a career. After almost two decades, he still couldn't afford to even think of shopping in some of the tony boutiques he ostensibly guarded. And nothing ever happened around here.
On a ledge above the entrance to the glass bridge that linked the mall with the subway, a black box sat silent, its display pointed inward, against a wall. It had been placed there almost sixteen hours ago by one of the painters that was redoing the decor in a charming shade of green. Unseen, the red numbers counted down: five hours to go. Oblivious, the watchman trudged on.

The next morning dawned clear and cool for the end of May. You could see your breath.
The morning rush was well underway as a man descended the steps leading to Dundas Station. He had rode into town on a Greyhound the night before, a highly illegal automatic weapon packed in his carry-on bag. Now that weapon rested comfortably against his side as he mentally rehearsed the actions he would take in the next half-hour. A statuesque blonde woman asked him what time it was. He smiled at her and said it was 7:32. She returned the smile, a little uneasily. Something about his eyes...

7:41 a.m.

Union Station was crammed. The southern terminus of the subway line linked up with a cavernous train depot; commuter trains had been scuttling in and out all morning. A GO Train from Oakville had just arrived, a few minutes early for once. A wave of humanity disembarked and flowed down into the subway.
People were chock-a-block in the Designated Waiting Area. A subway train whooshed in and glided to a stop. The doors chimed once before opening, and they stayed open for almost a full minute as the train disgorged most of its passengers and took on a new load.
The TTC trademark tritone sounded, reminding some people of a motif from Vivaldi's Four Seasons, a larger number of people of the beginning to the theme from Sesame Street, and everyone else simply that the doors were about to shut. Several of the cars were standing room only, and precious little of that. The train entered the darkness beyond Union and began to bend northward, approaching St. Andrew Station. An unearthly shriek reverberated around the tunnel. In the third car, a six-year-old started to cry at the sound. Her mommy shushed her and told her that subway trains didn't like to go round corners, so they cried when they did it and that's what the noise was. Look, she said. Look out the window and you might see the subway's tears. There's one now! she exclaimed, and pointed out an orange spark. The six-year-old, whose name was Kara, stared transfixed. Her mommy told her the corner was almost over and the subway would stop crying soon.
Somewhere down and to the right, a set of numbers reached zero.

The explosion lifted the subway clear off its tracks. The train peeled open like a grape as
concussions buffeted each car, blowing out the windows: smoke poured in. The third car jumped the track, smashed through a couple of pillars and came to rest on its side on the southbound rails, four seconds ahead of the train inbound from St. Andrew.

The carnage was unspeakable.

The swarthy man hid a grin. Three stops behind the chaos, radios had crackled to life and everyone was being ushered out of Dundas Station. Most people, he noted, seemed to think somebody had phoned in a bomb threat. They were taking the unexpected evacuation pretty calmly, most of them, although one businessman in a thousand-dollar suit was braying to everyone that he had a very important meeting at 8:30, damnit, and if he was late he would sue the ass off the T.T.C.
Mohammed al-Ziri lifted a hand to his face to hide his grin, which was hideous to behold. He made sure he was at the forefront of the crowd as it jostled and pushed its way through the exit doors. As soon as he was clear of the station, he jogged up ten steps and whirled, withdrawing his machine gun in a fluid, practised motion. Then he opened fire.

Almost twenty kilometers north, at Yorkdale Station, a similar evacuation was underway. News had travelled remarkably fast. Nobody could tell you for certain what was going on, but rumours of a large-scale terrorist attack downtown were circulating among the crowd. One man had grievously overslept that morning and now found himself running almost an hour behind. He realized, with a start, that if he'd been on time today he would have found himself in Union right about now. People flocked out of the station, traversing a glassine bridge between it and the mall. A subway constable was explaining to the busker in the tunnel that she couldn't play anymore and had to leave.
Relief and disbelief battled for supremacy in every mind: the impossible terrorist attack had actually materialized--right here in Canada!--yet they counted themselves among the living.

On an unseen ledge, the numbers zeroed out.

This explosion was larger than the ones downtown. A hail of glass shot out in all directions, eviscerating everything in its path. Then, inferno.

Throughout the day, the death toll, initially reported at fourteen, continued to rise. The next morning's papers reported 111 fatalities and nearly five hundred injuries; dozens of people in hospital were not expected to live. A little girl named Kara had been found, miraculously, holding on to her mother's severed arm.
A sleeper al-Qaeda cell claimed responsibility, saying the attacks were in retaliation for Canada's involvement in Afghanistan.

*********************************

--IT COULD HAPPEN HERE--

How to save the world.

So the G-8's meeting...again...and there's riots...again. Ho-hum, how utterly, utterly predictable.
Also insane.
You may have noticed the mob, swinging their senseless placards, throwing things at cops as if the cops were the source of all the evils in the world. Nary an economic degree amongst these dolts, I'd wager, yet they presume to lecture world leaders on how to run their economies.
Leaving aside the old axiom that one must not negotiate with terrorists--and what else would you call people who deliberately set out to injure police officers?--let's examine what these people (who claim to have good intentions) are trying to accomplish, shall we?
Well, they call themselves 'anti-globalists'. I think of them as the Flat Earth Society, since they are ignorant of some pretty basic global truths.
For instance, they want aid to Africa immediately tripled. Since 1948, over $500,000,000,000 in aid has been given to Africa, making for some amazingly rich dictators and, well, not much else. It's pretty clear to anyone with so much as one functioning brain cell that money alone won't save Africa.
They want rich countries to cancel the debt owed by poor countries. In and of itself, I have no problem with this...it's not as if anyone at all expected any of that debt to ever be paid, anyway. But it won't help anything. All the interest being paid on all that debt will simply be redirected into a few Swiss bank accounts, and the debt will start its upward spiral all over again.
The anticapitalist zealots direct most of their ire towards multinational corporations--you know, those things whence come all the jobs. While some of their accusations are legitimate--many of these companies are not exactly paragons of social or environmental responsibility--the protestors seem to believe the multinationals can be forced to accept their utopian vision if they only...throw enough rocks at enough police officers. I don't see the logic. Do you?

Unlike the rioters, I have some possible solutions that just...might...work. I don't know how exactly to implement them, because they involve quite a few paradigm shifts that as of right now seem unlikely, to say the least, but I would like to throw them out there for your consideration. Be warned, these are radical.

1) WE NEED A ONE-WORLD GOVERNMENT.

I might as well start off with the most radical assertion of all.
By "one-world government", I most emphatically do not mean any sort of United Nations. No, this would be a truly global undertaking, modelled on some hybrid of the Canadian and American governmental systems. To wit, each present-day country would be a state/province/territory in the Global Federation. The same sorts of checks and balances we see in federal systems of government would be in place to ensure some semblance of fair governance for all. And this government would have teeth: the decisions of its world court (whose judges would come from divergent backgrounds) would be final and binding...there would be a global army to back them up, if need be.
A one-world government would have the following advantages:

• It would eventually eliminate nationalism, which is one of the common ingredients in warfare, by virtue of elevating perspectives.

For instance, back in the days before 1776, the 'United States' was anything but united. It was a collection of colonies that were forever at odds with each other, mostly over trade. Through some democratic miracle, an overarching country was formed, gathering all these disparate colonies into itself and adding new ones as the years progressed. People soon realized the inherent advantages of living in a federation. Their pride in their little corner of the world may never have wavered--Virginians are still proud of being Virginians--but they're also proud to be American. Their perspectives have been elevated.

Or think of Europe. A Frenchman is no less a Frenchman for belonging to the European Union and spending euros instead of francs and centimes. His perspective is being elevated.

• The one-world government could act to standardize the world economy and economically 'liberate' poor countries, without force of arms, in a way all but impossible otherwise.

For instance, such a government could set a minimum wage (and a maximum wage, a concept I strongly believe in). Multinationals would have no escape, because there would be no country exempt from world law. More: we could have global environmental laws and global human rights statutes.

• Dictators, tyrants, and despots would be consigned to the dustbin of history.

The one-world government, acting on advice from its Security Council, could freeze their assets--all of them--if they persisted in human rights abuses. An empty stomach is a powerful persuader.

• Armed conflict would be, eventually, all but eliminated.

Disputes between nations would be settled at the World Court, whose mandate would be to ensure win-win solutions whenever possible.

I really don't see a single downside that wouldn't in time prove itself to be very positive.

2) WE NEED A NEW DEFINITION OF "WEALTH".

(Thanks to Neale Walsch for clarifying this point in my mind.)

Right now, the wealthy are those who have the most. In my future ideal dreamworld, the welathy would be those who share the most. And they wouldn't share because it was required of them...they'd share because they saw how sharing was in their best interest.

This would totally revamp the economy. Consider something as banal as lawnmowers. How often do you use your lawnmower? Once a week? Once a fortnight? What does it do the rest of the time? Just sit there, right, being useless--oh, it's helping to feed that idea you have of yourself as a wealthy person in some tiny way..."I have a lawnmower!"

What if you shared that lawnmower with everyone on your block?

Well, that would free up a hell of a lot of lawnmowers, to be distributed among the poorer people who presently have no lawnmower. It would also force lawnmower manufacturers to upgrade their quality control considerably. It would bring people together. And disputes between neighbours over who broke the lawnmower, or whose turn it was to use it, could be resolved by little neighbourhood councils.

Again, given a few paradigm shifts, nothing but upside.

3) WE NEED A TOTALLY TRANSPARENT ECONOMIC SYSTEM.

By this I mean openness in nearly every detail concerning money. Neale Walsch had a great idea in his Conversations with God books: that all price tags bear two prices: the price you pay and the price the retailer paid. "Your Cost" and "Our Cost", as it were. This would drastically reduce gouging.

If Susan saw that Steve got twice as much remuneration for doing the same job, what do you think would happen?

If Mbusa saw--actually saw--that his employer was paying him one ten thousandth of what the company president made--what do you think would happen?

If ABC Company's books showed that they gave nothing to the environment, or to the poor, over the past year--and everyone could see that and then immediately compare it with XYZ Company, who donated ten percent of their profits--what do you think would happen?

These three suggestions--which do not originate with me, but which certainly resonate with me--would change the world. In a good way.

Taxation ramble

A quick blog today. I hate to ride on the coattails of the Toronto SUN, knowing full well how many in Canada view the SUN chain as a sort of FOX NEWS with nearly-naked women. But their editorial today was pointed and timely. It's on gas taxes.
But wait, Ken! You don't drive!
True. But my wife does, and my job is very much dependent on fuel. After all, a grocery store can't exist without products shipped in from afar, and our customers can't buy many of those products without the means to ship them home.
As I write this, gas is hovering around C$ 0.90/litre. Big Oil's smartened up a bit: they realize they can't hold prices down and suddenly jack them up twelve cents a litre just before a long weekend. They used to do that, and consumers noticed and demanded unwelcome political scrutiny. So now they tend to hold the line until after a long weekend. I predict the average price in Waterloo region will be at least 95.5 cents a litre come Tuesday.
The politicians have been unable to prove collusion at the pumps--then again, they haven't tried very hard. For instance, they've obviously never interviewed anyone who's worked at a gas station. I have, and I can assure you that every station keeps a very close eye on the price at every other station within a few blocks of them. Two visual checks a day is the absolute minimum, and it's quite common for gas bars to call each other to announce a price change. Courtesy, they call it.
No matter. In order to reach either set of parents, we need to travel through cottage country, and you couldn't pay us to make the trip on a long weekend, especially this one. The traffic is simply insane. There's no other way to put it.
But the issue of gas taxes still irks me to no end. Being at least somewhat senstive to environmental concerns, I don't take issue with the price the oil companies set for their product. After all, even at today's rates, our gas is quite cheap. A litre of just about anything else costs more...including bottled water. Bear in mind, too, that our prices are only expensive in comparison to those in the States; in Europe, gas is cheap at twice our price and some places charge three or four times what we do.
Of course, Europe is conveniently compact. Ontario has counties the size of some European nations. So Canada must rely on long-haul shipping and getting people out of their cars and on to our meagre public transit system is no easy task.
So gasoline is essential. It's food, quite literally, for the economy. But unlike a can of soup or a jug of milk, gasoline is taxed, and quite heavily at that. The average amount of tax, per litre, on Canadian gasoline is about 24 cents. Not counting the GST, which in this case is tax on tax.
Paul Martin, as Finance Minister, levied a 1.5 cent/litre surtax on gasoline "to eliminate the deficit", a decade ago. He's run obscene surpluses for eight years running now, yet the surtax remains.
I could accept this--I really could--except that almost none of this money finds its way back into fixing our transportation infrastructure. Last year it was 7.2 percent: only just a little more than the feds collected in GST on gas. No, the lion's share is siphoned into 'general revenues', which is Liberal code for 'nya-nya-nya-nya-nya, we can't tell you'.
Martin's made a big to-do about giving municipalities some of that gas tax money. Well, most of them are spending their windfall on...public transit.
Hello? Did I miss the invention of hoverbuses, or is public transit still earthbound. forced to travel on decrepit roads with the rest of us?
Y'know, I spent yesterday's entry being all fuzzy-wuzzy liberal (not Liberal, please!) regarding the social values we have here in Canada. Today it's the flip side of the coin: I just want to rant about the liberal (and Liberal) fiscal policy. There's no sense, common or otherwise, to it. I mean, here's a country where it's okay to spend close to the average annual wage on each homeless person in Toronto, without doing anything to get them off the streets; where we pay a king's ransom in salaries and perks to a number of politicians whose sole goal is to break up the country; where voters fully expect to be bribed with their own money each election, and react with disdain when they're not. We actually allow public service strikes to cripple our economy and threaten our safety and health. In my world, public service workers would be perfectly free to strike: they'd just lose an dollar an hour for each day they struck. I've no doubt I could find people willing to do their jobs for the money they make. Garbagemen in Toronto are not paid a pittance. Neither, for that matter, are Hydro One engineers.
We're actually looking at forming a national daycare system: one more senseless boondoggle in a nation filled with them. We've wasted billions of dollars re-registering the guns of law-abiding citizens, while criminals shoot up the streets with aplomb.
No, here's how asinine this country is: we've spend hundreds of thousands of dollars housing a psychotic woman for twelve years. We've given her special rights, freedoms, and protections accorded few other prisoners, despite the heinous nature of her crimes. We've fed, watered, sheltered, and educated her at taxpayer's expense. A single bullet, carefully placed, would have been ever so much cheaper.

Happy Birthday, Canada

"What Canada Means To Me": I'm sure it's nearly as overdone an essay theme as "How I Spent My Summer Vacation". The various definitions have become cliched, easy hooks to hang one's Mountie hat: the cultural mosaic, the nation of minorities, the mouse in bed with the elephant. As an increasingly proud Canadian, I can't let our 138th birthday go by without adding my two loonies.
The knee-jerk answer is "we're not American". That's so common, and these days so patently obvious, as to be almost useless. As a starting point, though, it'll serve.
How are we not American?
I think the first clue lies in the respective mottoes of our two countries. Theirs, famously, is "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness". Ours, rather less known, is "Peace, Order, and Good Government". These two mottoes are almost antithetical.
The American slogan emphasizes freedom: not surprising, since America had to fight for her independence from the same nation that spawned us. The idea is central to American mythology: "give me liberty or give me death", shortened to "live free or die". In recent years, the United States has attempted to export its vision of freedom around the globe, not always peacefully.
The Canadian motto is vastly different. Our governments are judged on their ability to maintain peace and order. Rather than imposing our attitude on the planet, we invite the rest of the planet to come to us in peace. We make few demands on prospective immigrants. They don't have to speak our language. There's no single Canadian identity for them to assume: indeed, we encourage them to keep their own. We don't even ask them, beyond the citizenship ceremony, to identify themselves as Canadian. Even known terrorists are welcome here, which (rightly) makes our neighbour nervous.
The Canadian tolerance we display within our own borders is not so evident in our recent relations with the United States. Indeed, the legendary American arrogance we so decry up here is matched of late only by our own sense of self-satisfied smugness. In a recent poll, a whopping 94% of Canadians surveyed said that they believed the world had a good opinion of us. I suspect the truth is that close to 94% of the world has no opinion of Canada, good or bad. Worse, to many Canadian eyes, most of the world can't immediately tell the difference between Joe Canuck and their not-so-beloved Uncle Sam. We're the Northern Nothing, lost in a blizzard of indifference.
I believe, at root, most of us are at least somewhat aware of this, even as we deny it. How else to explain our enormous jealousy of all things American? We gobble up Yankee television and by and large ignore our own (except for those shows, like Canadian Idol, that are knockoffs of U.S. programs). We don't seem to accept our celebrities until they've made it big south of the 49th parallel: it's as if we are afraid to voice our approval until we're sure they approve. This, by the way, is the mark of an immature nation. Maybe in another couple of centuries--assuming we're still here, and still Canadian--we'll be able to appreciate what we have just a little more.
And what is it we have?
A positively VAST land, for one thing. A land so immense as to confound the imagination and make Confederation appear all the more miraculous. Then again, once you've managed to gather the mountains of B.C, the sheaves of Saskatchewan, the bustle of the Golden Horseshoe, the...je ne sais quoi... of Quebec, and the resilence of Newfoundland, not to mention everything else in between, it seems inevitable that you'll welcome the world with open arms.
We function, in a way, like the European Union, and have for generations now. Each region of Canada is a nation unto its own--one of them even thinks that way. Is it really any wonder that socially, we're resembling Europe more and more? There are only two countries besides ours that have seen fit to grant homosexuals the right to marry: Belgium and the Netherlands. We are edging closer to a European view on other things, too: marijuana, euthanasia--even health care, which is on the verge of distancing itself from both its current ailing state and the all-but-terminal mess that is the American system.
This, to me, is something to be proud of. More: it's something to celebrate. In so doing, we should take care not to piss off that elephant to the south of us, though...

In point of fact, we ought to extend thanks to that elephant for preserving our sovereignty, such as it is. We don't like to remind ourselves of this, but we long ago ceded responsibility for our own defense to the United States, and we increasingly expect Washington to provide it free gratis. It seems odd that we would entrust our own defense to a country we proclaim to disdain so much; moreover, a nation that has earned itself more than a few enemies worldwide. It seems to me even more odd to repay that nation with endless lip and sass...even when they don't deserve it.

Canadian pride is on the upswing, lately, and I'm glad to see it.

Most people don't even know O Canada has a second and third (and a fourth!) verse, let alone what they are. Here are verses two and three, which to me speak more eloquently than the verse we all know:

O Canada! Where pines and maples grow,
Great prairies spread And lordly rivers flow,
How dear to us thy broad domain,
From East to Western Sea,
Thou land of hope, for all who toil!
Thou True North strong and free!
God keep our land Glorious and free!
O Canada! We stand on guard for thee!
O Canada! We stand on guard for thee!

O Canada! Beneath thy shining skies
May stalwart sons and gentle maidens rise,
To keep thee steadfast through the years
From East to Western Sea,
Our own beloved native land!
Our True North strong and free!
God keep our land, Glorious and free!
O Canada! We stand on guard for thee!
O Canada! We stand on guard for thee!

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...

I would have been eleven or so the year I was run over by a cop.
It happened off Grandview Drive in London, Ontario. It was the kind of summer afternoon made especially for bicycling--sunny and warm, but with just the right amount of breeze to cool you off without impeding your progress.
I was rip-snorting along Grandview at something close to the speed limit when I decided to make a right-hand turn on to some crescent or other. At the speed I was going, controlling the bike through the turn was somewhat of an issue. I was just starting to straighten up when my eyes picked out a yellow Honda Civic backing out of a drivew--holy shit, right IN FRONT OF ME---
I had enough time to apply my brakes, snapping one cable and actually flattening my rear tire. Then I was rolling on the ground, with no clear idea how I'd got from there to here, and that little Honda Civic was suddenly a very large Honda Civic, a positively ENORMOUS Honda Civic, and its right rear wheel came up over my right leg as if the driver was backing over a speed bump.
We owned a Honda Civic once, and the running joke around our house was "when's it going to grow up?" Now I found myself thankful I'd been run over by a baby car; it hurt, but it was nothing I couldn't walk off. I was lucky, I told myself. Really lucky. And I was going to tear that driver a new asshole. You're supposed to look both ways, shit-for-brains, I rehearsed in my head. My father is a police officer and he'll be very interested to hear about this...
Then the cop got out. In full dress uniform. My bowels turned to water along with my stupid bravado. I thought about asking him to run me over again instead of fining me. Hell, he could back over me all day if he didn't tell my parents. But I found I couldn't speak at all.
The officer made sure I was okay and then went into Full Cop Mode, lecturing me about the responsible handling of a bicycle and doing his level best to make my hair stand on end. He told me about all the charges he could lay--the potential fines added up to more money than I'd ever seen in one place. Almost absentmindedly, he added that my bike didn't have a sounding device and that was worth another $65.
The cop observed my face, falling with each charge. By the time he finished his spiel, I was in tears, and not only from my leg. He concluded by saying he was going to let me off with a warning. "Let this be a lesson to you, young man."

It was.
Since that summer day, whenever riding a bicycle, I have done my best to observe every rule of the road. I use hand signals. I don't run stop signs or red lights. I claim my little bit of lane and stick to it.
And I haven't rode a bike now for going on ten years.
Oh, through my teens and early twenties I was a constant cyclist, commuting all over creation. Neither rain nor wind nor snow would stop me, although slush certainly slowed me down. It helped that during a large chunk of that time I lived in London, a city whose planners must have included a bunch of two-wheelers. At the time, you could get most of the way across the city without riding on more than three hundred metres of city street. The bike paths were everywhere.
I moved to Kitchener-Waterloo in 1990 and discovered a whole new world, one not especially habitable for cyclists. The drivers here acted as if I had a bulls-eye painted on my back and the rules of the road that had served me in such good stead for eight years had suddenly undergone a total change. Drivers screamed at me to "get the fuck on the sidewalk where you belong!" Hand signals were ignored. After several near-collisions, not one of which was my fault, I decided to call it a cycling career. The four-wheeled menaces could have the damn road all to themselves.
Thing is, I don't blame them. I've seen far too many cyclists who have obviously not been run over by cops, blatantly ignoring every last traffic law, a world unto themselves. Every day I see at least one cyclist roaring along on the sidewalk and I sometimes have to restrain myself from giving them a little stick in their spokes. I don't say anything to these idiots--they're on a bike, they can outrun me--but Lord, I want to.
Bikes are vehicles under the Highway Traffic Act. As such, their place is not on the sidewalk. It is on the road, and they are to be given their space. In fact, should a cyclist have to make a left turn, he is suppsed to enter the left-hand-turn lane, just as a car would, and make his turn from there. Like a car, a bike is supposed to turn into an inside lane and then change to the outside when the way is clear.
Nobody does this, of course. The few cautious ones walk their bikes across two streets; the rest just let their imagination be their guides.
What we need is a bicycle licensing system like that in the Netherlands. There should also be phalanxes of bicycle cops--God knows they could write up enough tickets to more than pay their own salaries. With such a system and strict enforcement in place, maybe drivers would begin to accept the two-wheeled vehicles sharing their roads.
Maybe.
In the meantime, there's a brand new bike residing in my shed. I've never ridden it; in fact, it's not even put together. I'll drag it out the day I think I might be able to get to work without being run over.
Once was enough.

Good Lord, am I a dunce or what?!

I have just discovered how to allow ANYONE TO COMMENT on my blog. You'd think I would have found this out long before now; I've been blogging for over a year. Anyway, things are all set up now; folks, PLEASE LEAVE ME YOUR COMMENTS, positive or negative. I will endeavour to answer all of them.

Thanks!

Here we go again...

God please save me from your followers.

I keep having to stomp this particular fire out. I don't know why I bother--debating these people who are putting aside every critical issue facing this country because, at root, they feel vaguely uncomfortable at the mere thought of Jack and Gil getting married--debating these folks bears an uncanny resemblance to banging my head against a brick wall. But I'll keep trying. Here are 31 "reasons" to vote against same-sex marriage, with my thoughts on each of them. My apologies at the repetitiveness--there are really only ten or so "reasons" here--but hey, the first sign of an argument running out of steam is a resort to repetition.

The government has no authority to change the definition of a religious term such as marriage. They have no right to change the definition of "baptism", "communion", "bar mitzvah", "marriage" or any other religious term.

Okay, right away we've come up against a specious assumption: that "marriage" is a religious term. Says who? In order to be married, one need not enter a place of worship nor invoke the name of any god. So how can marriage be a religious term?

Same sex marriage is not a "human right". The United Nations’ "Universal Declaration of Human Rights" or the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms make no mention, directly or indirectly of such a right.

Y'know, it's really funny. I just sat down and read the Charter of Rights and Freedoms through. It makes no mention, directly or indirectly, of any kind of marriage. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights put forth by the United Nations does, however. Let's look carefully at what it has to say:

Article 16.
(1) Men and women of full age, without any limitation due to race, nationality or religion, have the right to marry and to found a family. They are entitled to equal rights as to marriage, during marriage and at its dissolution.
(2) Marriage shall be entered into only with the free and full consent of the intending spouses.
(3) The family is the natural and fundamental group unit of society and is entitled to protection by society and the State.

Now, you will note the first clause does not specify that men must marry women, or that women must marry men. It simply says that men and women have the right to marry.

Back to the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Sexual orientation has been "read into" the Charter for some time now, probably on the basis of the equality rights in Article 15:


15. (1) Every individual is equal before and under the law and has the right to the equal protection and equal benefit of the law without discrimination and, in particular, without discrimination based on race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, sex, age or mental or physical disability.

(2) Subsection (1) does not preclude any law, program or activity that has as its object the amelioration of conditions of disadvantaged individuals or groups including those that are disadvantaged because of race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, sex, age or mental or physical disability.

I'm going to come right out here, so to speak, and suggest that gays and lesbians form a "disadvantaged group". Given that the suicide rate of gays and lesbians is six times the national average and hate crimes are still common, it's hard not to argue otherwise. This group of people is not specifically included in the Charter, but it is not excluded, either. Given that the Charter holds equality as a fundamental right, it is only correct that sexual orientation be considered.

Anyway, all this suggests to me is that according to the United Nations, marriage is a fundamental freedom for all and according to the Charter, gays are not to be discriminated against. Draw your own conclusions.


When women gained equal rights in Canada, they were not renamed "men". Laws were passed to give them rights. Same sex couples do not have to be called "married" to receive rights.

When homosexuals get the right to marry in Canada, nobody will rename them "straight", either.
We can set up a whole set of laws codifying--we'll call it "gayage"--and make sure that they are identical insofar as the rights and obligations they grant same-sex couples. Or we can just extend marriage rights to gay people.
Obviously, we're arguing over a word. And words are funny: they mean whatever you want them to, no matter what the dictionary may say on the matter. If I say "marriage", you'll imagine certain things; if you say "marriage", I will imagine certain things. Much of our respective mental pictures will overlap, but there will be differences.
It really does seem much simpler to me to allow gay couples the freedom to marry. You know most of them will consider themselves married, not "civilly unionated" or some such. Where's the harm?


If marriage is redefined, it is redefined for everyone. Are your [sic] married? If so, to a man or a woman? To properly identify oneself every married couple in Canada will then have to define their marriage as a "same sex marriage" or an "opposite sex marriage".

I identify myself, properly, as Ken Breadner. Whom I choose to marry, or not, is quite frankly none of anybody's business unless and until I choose to tell them. And the same goes for any two married people. Period.


To change the definition of marriage is a violation of Article 16 of the United Nations’ "Universal Declaration of Human Rights". This article demands government protection of "family" and "marriage".

Those damn homosexuals! They're plotting to overthrow marriage! Hurry! Protect it!
Oh, sorry: that was vicious sarcasm, but I just realized quite a few people actually believe this. I'd like them to show me how extending marriage threatens it. I still haven't heard any kind of answer to that question.


To change the definition of marriage is a violation of Canada’s "Charter of Rights". The first line of the Charter reads "Whereas Canada is founded upon principles that recognize the supremacy of God and the rule of law:" It is a violation of "The principle of the supremacy of God" to re-define a sacred institution.

See the rebuttal to the first paragraph: marriage is not a sacred institution. And "the supremacy of God" is a null statement. Who or what is God? Take as long as you like to answer. I suspect that the people who spewed forth this elaborate justification of bigotry have a very good idea who God is. Problem: there are many competing visions of the same God...not to mention other Gods, the belief in which is--surprise!--guaranteed by the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

Re-definition of marriage violates the first "fundamental freedom" listed by the "Charter of Rights" that states "Everyone has the following fundamental freedoms: a) freedom of conscience and religion". By dictating religion the state infringes upon the freedom of religion.

The state is not "dictating religion" here, since...again...marriage and religion have little to do with each other.


Re-definition sets up a "two tiered" Charter of Rights where homosexuals and lesbians have powers over the religious.

Look, at some point, Joe Gay Catholic is going to want to be married in his church. That point is not yet, but I'm sure it's coming. We'll see how the court rules. In the meantime, Christians in particular have a lot of hard Bible study to do.
What they shouldn't do is ask themselves "what would Jesus do"...because in all but a few, that question is magically transformed into "what would I do if I were Jesus?" Instead, they should read carefully what they think are prohibitions against homosexuality, particularly those in the New Testament. It helps to read them in Greek. Fair warning: you'll be surprised to find there is no prohibition against homosexuality in the Bible that can be attributed to God in any of His three Aspects.


The Prime Minister has betrayed his colleagues attempting to force cabinet members to go against their religious convictions and vote to redefine marriage. If he will not protect religious freedom for his friends he will certainly not protect ordinary Canadians.

It's a failing of our political system that "voting one's conscience" is so rarely permitted. I'm not defending Paul Martin, but he may have told his caucus that religious freedoms--guaranteed, after all, under the Charter--will not be infringed upon, in an effort to get them to accept his legislation. That's politics. In any event, the actions of the PM do not constitute in and of themselves a reason to vote against (or for) same-sex marriage. Let's keep to the issue at hand, here, okay?

Two-tiered rights regimes suppress the underclass. Religious institutions are being forced to host same sex nuptials such as the Knights of Columbus hall in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia. Religious schools such as the Catholic School in Whitby, Ontario are being forced to accept same sex relationships. Religious individuals such as Scott Brockie are forced to print material against his conscience. You and your Church, Synagogue or place of worship may be next.

Oooo, suppression of the "underclass", whatever that is. Sounds nasty. Reminds me of Monty Python's Constitutional Peasant. I'll admit I have not read up on the cases of the Catholic School in Whitby (what, only one?) or the KoC hall in PoCo, nor do I know of Scott Brockie. I'm curious to know how one is "forced" to print anything. Do they do it with guns? Knives?
I think it only fair to point out that same-sex marriages have occurred in Christian (admittedly, not Catholic) churches. I'd like to be a fly on the wall at the confrontation between Christian ministers who have performed such services and those who are vehemently against them. Is one set or the other not Christian? Discuss.

Two-tiered rights are currently violating freedom for those who conduct marriage ceremonies. Religious commissioners of marriages in British Columbia, Saskatchewan and Manitoba have already been threatened with loss of livelihood if they do not succumb to the dictates of the state and agree to marry same sex couples.
Religious freedom for Clergy will not be upheld. On December 9, 2004 the Supreme Court clearly articulated that the federal government has no ability to protect Clergy from marrying same sex couples. The Court says this is a Provincial responsibility however no province in Canada has legislation in place to protect Clergy. In fact at least three provinces have already attacked Clergy freedoms.

Lock up the priests! The gays are coming!
I don't mean to be flip, I really don't. But all this talk of "protection" grates on my nerves. Pass a same-sex marriage law. Write into it that no priest or pastor may be forced to perform a marriage ceremony against his or her will. It's really that simple. Churches already discriminate as to whom they marry. Some insist you be members of the parish; many won't recognize your marriage if it's performed in a church of a different faith. All of this is just as wrong, as far as I am concerned, as refusing to marry same-sex couples, but nobody's challenged it.

Religious freedom in education is being debased. Religious students are forced to study same sex values, relationships, activities and homosexual and lesbian way of life. There is no protection or conscientious objection caveat to alleviate students from being exposed to objectionable material.

AND THERE BLOODY WELL SHOULDN'T BE. If you are absolutely determined to keep your little ones under your thumb. better buy them a bubble. See, this paragraph here gives us a clue as to what motivates these people: fear. They're afraid their sons and daughters might be exposed to what they deem objectionable and find it...not so objectionable. It scares these people witless to think that each generation--each individual--charts its own moral course. The purpose of an education is to get students thinking for themselves, not to parrot their parents' selected Bible readings.


Same sex education is commonly used as a proselytizing tool. Much of the material leads the student to question their sexuality by their dreams and level of stimulation when exposed to explicit material.

IT'S THE GAY AGENDA AT WORK!
Oops, there's that sarcasm again. I keep forgetting people really do think this way. Well, if you are exposed to explicit sexual material in school, hey, let me know where your school is, eh? I want to sit in. I might learn something.
Seriously, if you're aroused by gay porn, you could very well be gay. Not necessarily--I am, but I'm not--but you could be. And, as Seinfeld so memorably said, "not that there's anything wrong with that." No matter what your parents think.
At the very least, everyone ought to question and come to terms with their sexuality. It's an important part of who you are.

Re-definition of marriage undermines the foundation of society. Our civilization is based on the traditional definition of marriage. Social engineers are now attempting to demolish society as we know it and build their own "Brave New World".

I've said this before and I will say it again: marriage is NOT the foundation of society. The foundation of society is the individual. He/she may be married, or not; it makes no difference as far as human rights and social obligations go.

Family is our foundation. The United Nations’ "Universal Declaration of Human Rights",Article 16.(3) states "The family is the natural and fundamental group unit of society and is entitled to protection by society and the State."

Dare we define family? I dare you to tell me that my wife and I don't constitute a family. You better run away real quick while you say that: I have a hell of a right hook.
The people who wrote this drivel are perfectly entitled to their vision of a "family"....only insofar as they apply it to themselves alone. And don't keep using that word "protection" without telling me what you're trying to protect families from.

Marriage is the foundation of family. The place for pro-creation and development of children. Same sex couples cannot pro-create.

Red herring. So what? We can't procreate either. It doesn't make our marriage less valid in the eyes of the State or--get this--in the eyes of the Church, either. Last I looked, people could get married in a church without the immediate obligation to "start a family". In fact, up until recently, having a "family"--by which these folks mean children--before you married was very much frowned upon.

Marriage is the foundation of government where members are governed.

Say what? This is gobbledygook made to sound important. "Marriage is the foundation of government"??? What the heck does that mean? You have to be married to run for office? So what, anyway? Boy, we're really stretching now, aren't we?

Marriage is the first level of implementation of the law where members are encouraged to keep the law.

What bizarro world are we living in here? This makes no sense whatsoever and would be perfectly irrelevant if it did. I was taught to obey the law long before I married!

Marriage is the first level of education where members are taught civilized behaviour, morals and ethics.

Are we speaking in code? Are "members" children? Why not say so?
(Aside: civilized behaviour may well be taught, but morals and ethics are self-taught.)
No matter: saying "marriage is the first level of purpleness where members are taught the essence of pure purplehood" does not advance the case against same-sex marriage one iota.

Marriage is the first level of healthcare where the sick are cared for.

If you're single, you die on the street? Is that how this works?

Marriage is the first level caring for the poor.

I give up. You know what this sounds like? "Neener-neener-neener! If I cover my ears, I won't hear you! I reject your version of reality and insert my own!"


Radical social-engineering cannot be enacted without full debate, discussion, involvement and participation of vast majority of the citizens in a free country. Dictatorships have attempted to radically change society in other ways and the result is catastrophic. Not even the most corrupt Communist or fascist dictatorships have attempted to redefine marriage.

Mostly because the most corrupt communist or fascist states don't care one bit about human rights.
You can't force meaningful political participation on people: they'll resent it. Many people have tuned out this debate on account of they simply don't care; they've come to the conclusion that same-sex marriage will not affect them in any way, so they don't pay attention to the diatribes pro or con. Sorry to say this, but I don't think these arguments will influence them.

Re-engineering society is not a priority of the people however it has become the number one priority for the Prime Minister. Instead of focusing on Canada’s vital issues such as healthcare, education, security and taxes, Mr. Martin is fixated on same sex marriage.

Umm, pot? Kettle? Look, you can accuse the Prime Minister of 'fixation' all you want, but it's the people opposed to same-sex marriage that are doing at least as much to keep Parliament from dealing with all the critical issues facing this country. The courts have been ruling on this issue for four years now, and no ruling has yet come back against same-sex marriage.

If same sex marriage was a "human right" then most same sex couples would exercise this so-called right. In fact same sex marriage has been legal in parts of Canada for almost two years and only a couple thousand have become married. Over 99 percent have not entered into so-called "same sex marriage". Now the social engineers want to re-define marriage for the .006 percent of the population of Canada.

Just because I have a right does not obligate me to exercise it. Canadians have the right to vote, and they've been doing so in fewer and fewer numbers.
At least get your figures right: 0.006 percent of the population of Canada is some 217,000 people, a far cry from "a couple of thousand". Anyway, if this redefinition of marriage affects so few people, doesn't hurt anyone (and doesn't affect you at all), why have you got your knickers in such a twist?

The majority of Canadians do not want marriage to be redefined. Virtually every poll has indicated this fact with as much as 69% of the nation in objection.

Majority rules, then. The majority once thought blacks weren't fit to marry whites. The majority can be wrong.

Statistics Canada released its findings that only one percent of Canadians are homosexual or lesbian. Another .7 percent of Canadians are bi-sexual. Even this community does not wholly support redefining marriage.

Again, if this is being done for so few people, what's the big deal? They're not criminalizing heterosexual marriage, you know.

There is an electoral consequence to violating the will of the constituents. Numerous Members of Parliament lost their seat subsequent to voting against marriage.

Really? Did the government kick them out? Or did their electors stand up against bigotry?

Betraying the trust of the people creates an electoral consequence. Many Members of Parliament voted for marriage before voting against it. Mr. Martin and 215 other Members of Parliament voted for marriage in 1999. Over 130 Members voted for marriage in 2002. Now some are changing their vote. Their word yesterday appears to have no bearing on their actions of today. Who knows what they will do tomorrow? Such subterfuge will not tolerated by the electorate.

Maybe not by you. At least some of the electorate will be comforted that their elected MPs finally came to their senses. No matter: that's for the next election to decide. And the Liberals will win it, same-sex bill or no. Mark my words.

Radically changing the Liberal Party will bring demise. Throughout its history the Liberal Party was moderate and centrist. Now the Prime Minister is bringing in an extremist agenda of redefining marriage, talk of polygamy, decriminalizing marijuana and discussions on euthanasia. In addition they grant 582 work visas to Romanian strippers and pay $250 million dollars to Liberal friends. These are not Liberal Values they are Extremist Values.

Hey. wow, we've thrown in gay marriage with AdScam and Strippergate. Next on Channel Seven: Gay marriage causes global warming and tooth decay.
Incidentally, since we've brought all this up, polygamy should be legal; marijuana MUST be legalized, never mind decriminalized; and euthanasia is the benchmark by which compassionate societies are judged. (If your life isn't your own, what is?)

Now...anybody got any real objections to gay marriage? Anybody? Bueller?

The Ticketmaster and the Slave

I've already offended one friend in private email with my take on Live 8--essentially, that it's pointless, since zero money will be raised--so I won't expound on that theme any further here.

Now, the actual Live 8 concert, as opposed to the politics surrounding it, was something I had a modest interest in. I mean, I like some of the groups that are scheduled to perform. A few of them--the Barenaked Ladies in particular--hearken back to what I think of as the golden era of Canadian music, before grunge turned popular music into nihilistic noise. If it was possible to strap duct tape over the mouths of any concertgoer under the age of thirty--the better to actually hear the music--and if I didn't have prior commitments, I might have considered "buying" the free tickets.

Now I hear a rumour that this Live 8 concert will be televised--which, if true, would make it possible to watch the proceedings from the comfort of my own home, without braving the colossal traffic jams, the carnivorous crowds, and what is certain to be searing heat and humidity. An attractive proposition.

But let's say that, like many, I really, really wanted to go to Park Place in Barrie and see this concert. To do it, I would have needed to procure tickets through ticketmaster.ca. And to do that, I would have had to be extraordinarily lucky.
The tickets went on sale at 10:00 a.m. sharp the other day. It is reported there were 35000 of them. They sold out in twenty minutes. Let's do the math together: that's over 29 tickets a second.
Ticketmaster doesn't give out this information for obvious reasons, but I'd really like to know how many people tried to get tickets and failed. I'm betting it beat the number who were successful by at least an order of magnitude.
Actually, I was a tad surprised that the concert tickets lasted as long as they did. Coldplay tickets went on sale in a similar mass stampede a month or so back--the difference here being that people had to pay for these tickets, at hefty prices, too--and the supply that time lasted just a notch over three minutes.

How exactly is this fair?

You have to figure that those folks with T1 connections have a huge advantage in such ticket wars, especially over the people with dial-up. Which is really rather ironic in the case of something like Live 8, which is ostensibly being put on to help the poor.
Moreover, and quite predictably, Live 8 tickets showed up on Ebay within minutes of the sellout, and bids made it all the way up to $126.50 before Ebay got wise and yanked them. This sort of scalping is detestable; the mere attempt should be punishable by a fine of twice the highest bid.

Look, I love the Internet. I think, used properly, it's a fantastic tool. It has the potential to do more for the people of Africa than any aging ex-Boomtown Rat ever dreamed of. But there are some things that should have been left alone, among them the old way of getting concert tickets. In situations where the demand is certain to exceed the supply, it's simply wrong to incite an electronic riot. "Scrambles! Keepsies! Get your Coldplay tick---"

Kenny in Wonderland

Last Sunday, Father's Day, was also Sobeys Family Day at Canada's Wonderland. (Oops, sorry, Paramount Canada's Wonderland--they really get antsy if you forget the first word.)
Last year, Sobeys Family Day coincided with Chinese Day. Half of our store went, and was confronted with half the population of China, or so it seemed. At any rate, some people only managed three or four rides for the day: a huge waste of money, even with the deep discount thrown in. So the interest was considerably lessened this year...in fact, I was the only one to get tickets.
Eva dropped me off on our way back from the in-laws. Note to Paramount: create the drop-off zone so prominently and repeatedly signed as you enter the park off Rutherford Rd. If you follow the signs as they presently read, ("MUST LEAVE LANE BEFORE TOLLBOOTH"), you find yourself kicked out to Jane St. Hobson's choice: pay $7.50 for parking we'll use for four seconds, or walk roughly a kilometer across the parking lot.
Anyway, we hit TOP GUN first. I'd only rode this once before. While it does feature some interesting elements, the roughness of the ride is very off-putting. You are warned to remove hearing aids and earrings before riding--the only coaster I've ever seen that does this. Rather than put guests through this inconvenience, they ought to, oh, I don't know, smooth the ride out a bit...
Next up, a surprise. TOMB RAIDER: THE RIDE was considerably better than it looked. To get on this coaster, you climb up a ladder while the car is moving. A cagelike structure is is lowered into place against your back while you are still standing. The ride then starts to move, and you are thrust forward and down until you are in a prone position, face down.
This is a novel posture for a coaster. You really do feel like Superman, especially during a couple of quick corkscrews. Pretty neat ride.
You can't visit this park without a ride on the MIGHTY CANADIAN MINEBUSTER, celebrating its 25th year. This is a direct copy of the famous Coney Island Cyclone, and it packs quite a punch for a coaster less than a hundred feet tall. Two things struck me as I was taking my seat:
One, I'm fat. Two, they've added TOTALLY UNNECESSARY SEAT BELTS!!! I've ridden this thing maybe three dozen times over the past quarter century with only a lap bar for company. I'm sure of it. While some of the bunny hops do throw you a bit, it's nothing compared with, say, the Magnum XL-200 at Cedar Point, on which seat belts are an absolute must.
Still, this ride seems to be running faster than I remember it. Nary a trim brake as we neared the second drop. You get a fine da capo effect--that's roller-coaster-ese for "holy shit, that's gonna take my head off at the neck!" as you rocket under some Soak City waterslide or other. Very enjoyable ride.
A change of pace followed: I got suckered on to PSYCLONE. This is a cross between three venerable midway traditions: the Pirate Ship, the Round-Up, and the Uck-I'm-About-To-Blow-Chunks.
I don't handle swinging rides very well. I've never actually puked, but I have tasted lunch on a few occasions. Even a playground swing provokes a touch of nausea in me. Anyway, this thing, in hindsight, wasn't too bad, actually. I survived it. I could tell Dad was just waiting for me to yark. I never would have lived that down, so I kept my ruminant inside by iron force of will.

DON'T buy food at PCW. Unless you're rich. Really, I fully expected to get gouged, but they really know how to ream you: two cups of New York Fries and two medium drinks run you almost $18.00. What is this, a damn movie theatre?

We then hit THE ITALIAN JOB, this year's new addition and our longest line of the day: just over an hour...about the longest I'm willing to wait for anything. This coaster was only a minute long, but it was a pretty eventful minute. For one thing, it's got linear induction motors a la Top Thrill Dragster (albeit, of course, much less powerful). Still, you get shot out of the station and hit top speed of about 80 km/h (I'm guessing) pretty much instantly. I had no foreknowledge of this nifty feature, so its effect was doubled on me. Very shortly you come to a complete stop. Cue the special effects: jetting water, bursts of gunfire, gouts of flame, an incoming helicopter, and then you're off again, another linear induction boost into a dark "parking garage" tunnel, twisting and turning most enjoyably. You re-enter sunshine just before the statiom brakes and are treated to one final neck-popping sudden lurch. All in all, a fun experience.
The last ride of the day, as it turned out, was the VORTEX, a very slick, disorienting suspended coaster that is among the fastest rides in the park.
I stood and watched people--including a roughly ten-year-old girl--become EXTREME SKYFLIERs. In the end, I wussed out. More swinging, for one thing. For another, you're supported by gossamer-thin WIRES. For a third, I don't like venturing on anything the physics of which I don't understand. Bungee jumping is one thing. I get it. I'd never do it--what do you think I am, nuts?--but I get it. This--
Well, they don't even appear to WEIGH you. All too vividly I can imagine the result of them guessing your combined weight wrong. The bundle containing our precious bodies wouldn't skim the ground: it would hit and bounce, several times, snapping things as it went. My torso would arrive the Pearly Gates limbless. Not a nice image.
In the end, though, the thing that most dissuaded me from doing this was MONEY. It costs well over a hundred dollars to ride and get a video of your experience. This is skyway robbery--simply unconscionable. Just to ride this would cost nearly twice what it cost us to ride everything else together. Even though my Dad was okay with this--prepared to spend the money--I wasn't.
We left the park early as both of us were getting tired and we wanted to hit a restaurant before they all filled up (it was, again, Father's Day). I had a great time, though, and look forward to doing it again next year.

To your health

You all would have had my views on the earth-shattering Supreme Court of Canada decision a while ago, but I've had to wait for a suitably empty evening to come along. Now it's here, and I'm here, and you're here, so here we go.
Paul Martin was quick to proclaim "we're not going to have a two-tier health care system in this country". Gee, Paul, if that's the case, you've got your work cut out for you:

• QUEBEC, ALBERTA, BRITISH COLUMBIA, AND PRICE EDWARD ISLAND allow doctors to set their own fees and work outside the public health system.
• ONTARIO AND MANITOBA allow doctors to opt out of public health and refunds patients' monies paid to these doctors.
• NOVA SCOTIA allows private insurance for private services.
• So does NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR.
• So does SASKATCHEWAN.
• So does NEW BRUNSWICK.
• In ONTARIO, the Liberal provincial government has, in effect, privatized huge areas of medicine previously covered under the public plan, most notably chiropractic, physiotherapy, and optometry. While there was a huge outcry at first, people seem to have adjusted to it.
• THROUGHOUT CANADA, "very important people" such as athletes and polititicans routinely jump the public queue. Ask Paul Martin if he or any member of his family has ever set foot in a private clinic and dare him to lie.
• ALSO THROUGHOUT CANADA, anyone who chooses to purchase an extended benefit plan through their place of employment is actually aiding and abetting the dreaded second tier of health care. Consider: these plans cover you for items not insured by the public system. You and/or your employer pay for this coverage on a monthly basis--the government doesn't. How "public" is that, exactly?

The following is an excerpt from this eminently sensible decision:

We conclude, based on the evidence, that prohibiting health insurance that would permit ordinary Canadians to access health care, in circumstances where the government is failing to deliver health care in a reasonable manner, thereby increasing the risk of complications and death, interferes with life and security of the person as protected by section seven of the[Quebec] Charter.

It's only a matter of time before patients at risk of "complications and death" launch a barrage of cases to extend the right to purchase and use private insurance clear across Canada. Given that, as shown above, we already have two-tier health care in this country, the debate on its purported arrival is moot.

What we can debate, what we need to debate, is what form our current two-tier health care system should take. It's patently obvious that nobody wants the American system. Even if that system worked (and it doesn't), it's American, and no self-respecting Canadian would have anything to do with it unless he or his sister was dying and a Detroit hospital could fix their condition in a timely manner...oh, never mind.

I think we all agree that the most prominent touchstone of the Canada Health Act is universality...the idea that we do not turn away patients simply because of their inability to pay. It's not too much of a stretch to suggest that our marriage to this idea is what makes us Canadian.

I think, too, that we all agree that our health care system is ailing, in spite of billions of public dollars being poured into it at every opportunity. We all have experienced the vicissitudes of the system, or at least know someone who has: the seven hour waits in Emerg; the seven week delay waiting for a vital MRI; the seven month waits for the first consultation with a specialist.

Not many people realize that the sacred cows of India are walking cases of tuberculosis, among a host of other diseases, not despite their sacredness but because of it. It is forbidden in India to so much as touch one of these creatures...which would include administering care, no matter how needed it may be.

The parallels with our health care system are striking, n'est-ce pas?

The Supreme Court of Canada has done us a great service by daring to poke and prod our most sacred cow. Now it's up to Parliament to decide how to proceed. Paul "I reject your reality and insert my own" Martin is clearly not up to the challenge.

Smooth Criminal?

So Michael Jackson got off. Legally, this time.
Really, was anybody even remotely surprised?
Just once, please God, I'd like to see a real case mounted against a famous man. I say "man" because...well, let's see now. O.J. was on trial for murder and was acquitted; Robert Blake was on trial for murder and was acquitted; Michael Jackson was on trial for diddling little boys and was acquitted; Martha Stewart was on trial for lying and trying to save her financial hide--and got nailed.
I think Michael is guilty as sin and nothing the jury said convinced me otherwise. (In fact, one of the jurors said she felt Jackson was a pedophile, while another noted doubts about his innocence.) But the general consensus was that the prosecution's case was too weak for a conviction.
The court of law that exists in my brain is a little simpler. Let's see...okay, he said (on air!) that he shared his bed with children; pornographic magazines were found nearby; he paid off his last accuser...*ding ding ding ding* GUILTY!
How is it, exactly, that the defense were allowed to bring out all the plaintiff's mother's unsavoury details, while not a peep was mentioned about the previous round of allegations against the defendant?
Given those prior allegations, and the hush money Jackson paid out to silence them, I think it only fair that this boy's mother be charged with negligence at the very least. For her to allow Michael Jackson a week's unfettered access to her son baggars belief.

I wonder what Family and Children's Services would say about this sort of parental behaviour. You know, since they've found US unfit to raise children and all. *

Anyway, the taxpayers of California ought to sue everybody associated with the plaintiffs and get their money back. Maybe that would compel the prosecution to build itself a better case, next time around.

I hear that Michael has resolved not to share his bed with children going forward. Wow, Mikey, whatever gave you that idea?


*People have told me I should stop beating myself with the Children's Aid rejection. I'm not really doing that. Basically, with each and every case--and I see them daily--I reaffirm to myself that I am right and they are wrong. Pity, though, about all those horrendously abused children out there...