Dec 07

Blood Money.

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Sunday, December 16, 2007 at 12:49pm | Edit Note | Delete
I worked in Alberta doing construction this summer. There was a labor crisis there due to the incredible demand for oil created by the various western backed wars around the world, most notably Iraq. This in turn created a lot of opportunity for high paying construction work, and I made out like a bandit. But I don't kid myself. I don't look at the economy and kid myself into believing that our wealth comes without consequence. I don't for a second believe that it was smart fiscal management by our politicians that created the surge in demand for our resources. I know that it's been war. And I know that in addition to death and destruction, war also breeds dollars. So perhaps I shouldn't have protested this Iraq war back when Canada was yet to decide whether or not to join. How was I supposed to know that I'd have the best Christmas ever in the economic boom that followed? Why I'm even thinking of buying not one but TWO LCD monitors for my PC, even though the one I have works just fine. That or another laptop, I haven't decided yet. The point is that maybe I've been looking at this whole issue of American Imperialism all wrong. Okay fine, so a few civil wars in distant countries start because of western meddling and kill hundreds of thousands of civillians including children like mine. Wouldn't that sort of thing 'probably' happen anyway? Besides, my kid is getting the Mega Rig Shark Ship for Christmas this year! How cool is that?
THE MEGA RIG SHARK SHIP
With this toy my boy can explore for deep sea oil deposits off the coast of countries where we have recently installed western friendly democracies, or he can pretend to lurk offshore using the latest in surveillance technology for gathering false intelligence to justify an invasion.
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More of the Stuff That Keeps Me Up At Night.
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Saturday, December 15, 2007 at 1:09am | Edit Note | Delete
It started with a craving for Rice Krispies, and then an attempt to express that craving in French to a friend. Like most Canadians my French is limited to mispronunciations of breakfast foods and condiments; flocons de mais, moutarde, riz croustillant. Immediately I found myself wondering what Snap! Crackle! Pop! were called in French. I remembered having seen it at some time in my life, and thinking that it wasn't very onomatopoeic, and I commented to my friend that they must not use a lot of onomatopoeia in France. She said that she was sure they did, and was sure that Snap! Crackle! and Pop! in French sounded just like riz croustillant croustillanting. So I have since looked it up, and once again I'm bringing you information that you will find nowhere else. You'll be able to share with all and sundry, and basically be the life of the next party you go to. Not only did I find the French translation, I found the Swedish, German, Dutch, Zulu and others, and I'm going to list them here for your reading pleasure.
* English: "Snap! Crackle! Pop!"
* Canadian French: "Cric! Crac! Croc!"
* Spanish: "Pim! Pum! Pam!"
* German: "Knisper! Knasper! Knusper!"
* Swedish: "Piff! Paff! Puff!"
* Finnish: “Riks! Raks! Poks!”
* Dutch: Pif! Paf! Pof!
* Afrikaans: Knap! Knaetter! Knak!
* Zulu: “Click! Click! Nagunga!”(Postalveolar clicking)
My favorite is the German. "Knisper! Knasper! Knusper!" Like everything in German it sounds like an Officer of the SS with a frothing dog snapping and crackling at the end of a chain link leash and pointing a sub-machine gun and ordering a family into a railcar. (Oh will we never forgive the Germans??! What about all the good stuff Hitler did?)
The Zulu translation is also fun and I imagine it's not entirely dissimilar to what the Klingon translation would be. In fact the zulu version was so intriguing that I had to look up 'postalveolar clicking" to see what the heck it meant, and I'm sure you're wondering too. Well wonder no more!
Clicks occur in all three Khoisan language families of southern Africa, where they may be the most numerous consonants. To a lesser extent they are found in several neighbouring Bantu languages which borrowed them from Khoisan. The most famous of these are the languages of the Nguni cluster (Zulu, Xhosa, Swazi, Phuthi, Ndebele, and the Zulu-based pidgin Fanagalo); the other Bantu click languages are Sesotho, Yeyi of Botswana, and the Mbukushu, Kwangali, and Gciriku languages of the Caprivi Strip.
Postalveolar consonants are consonants articulated with the tongue near or touching the back of the alveolar ridge, placing them a bit further back in the mouth than the alveolar consonants, which are at the ridge itself, but not as far back as the hard palate (the place of articulation for palatal consonants).
Now there you go! You learned something didn't you!

In Australia, the characters keep their names, but the cereal is known as Rice Bubbles.
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Updated about 9 months ago


Barack Obama
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Saturday, December 15, 2007 at 12:12am | Edit Note | Delete
is moving into the lead for the Democratic Party nomination, not so much under the steam of his own charisma and platforms, but more from the smoke of Hillary Clinton's crash and burns as she tries to get ugly. On Dec. 2nd she announced "Well, now the fun part starts," she said. "We're going to start drawing a contrast, because I want every Iowan to have accurate information when they make their decisions." The question became whether Obama was tough enough to stand up to it. His demolition of her at the Des Moines Register debate suggests he is. The "fun part" for the rest of us will be watching the bitter infighting among the Clintonistas as the wheels come off Hillary's campaign.
Since then her negative campaign has at times been ridiculous. Only one day after firing an advisor for the Clinton campaign over 'accidentally' bringing Obama's well documented drug use into the campaign, Hillary is boasting of her own drug free past. Obama, as a role model that has spoken and speaks to tens of thousands of children regularly about the power of positive change has proven above reproach on this issue.
Then there's the kindergarten issue. Obama mentions not having had a lifelong desire to be president. The Clinton campaign travels to Indonesia, where they speak to his kindergarten teacher and unearth a note expressing the 5 year old Obama's ambition to one day be president of the United States. This too they try to turn against Obama.
So now Clinton is stumbling, her campaign crashing in pieces all around her. Obama is officially leading in 2 out of the 3 crucial key primaries, although Hillary still leads nationally. That's a lead that will disappear even faster than her Iowa advantage. She's only leading nationally because the rest of the country hasn't had the exposure to the 2 campaigns that Iowa and New Hampshire have had. Once people begin to see what the voters in the primaries have seen, Obama will be a shoe in, and I am half way to winning 5 bucks.
There is one thing that concerns me however...well, 2 things. The first thing that concerns me is that John Edwards is being too quiet. It's as though he knows something we don't. He reminds me of Lance Armstrong in the Tour de France, reaching one of the dreaded mountain routes. Lance dropped back at this crucial point in the race, appearing to slow and tire. This fired up the team behind him (I believe it was the French, although I don't recall). They gave it all they had, poured on the juice and went rocketing past Armstrong on the brutal uphill. Their morale was sky high, their victory all but assured, their hopes so optimistic that the mere thought of losing was laughable. It was then that Armstrong decided to pass. As he left them spent, exhausted and demoralized at the top of the hill he went on to victory with unparalleled style and finesse.
I worry that this is what Edwards has up his sleeve, an 11th hour dash that will be insurmountable for his opponents.
The other thing that concerns me is that William Kristol and the Weekly Standard seem to be pulling hard for Obama. And Kristol does not traditionally pull for Democrats; period. We're talking about one of the prime architects of the neo-conservative movement in America. This man is as much behind America going to war as Bush or Cheney. He's one of the founding members and leading thinkers of the Project for The New American Century (PNAC), a group devoted to American military imperialism. If he's rooting for Obama, it's either because he likes him, or because he can destroy him more efficiently. Either case is a terrifying thought, and if either of them are true, I'd be willing to lose my 5 bucks if it would change anything. Thanks for letting me ramble.
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Updated about 9 months ago


Misty Watercolored Memories.
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Thursday, December 13, 2007 at 10:12pm | Edit Note | Delete
First, a celebratory note. I just finished one of the most brutally unreadable and unintelligible chapters of Joyce's Ulysses, and I'm now into a chapter that's pleasantly lucid, coherent and fully comprehensible. I fucking hate Joyce, but I've heard this novel rated as the greatest novel of all time, and I set myself the task of reading as many of the 'great' books as I possibly can. This one has taken me close to 9 years so far, and every page has been a torment and a trial. Enough Joyce bashing.
The chapter I'm currently reading concerns 2 of the main characters venturing into one of Dublin's seedier waterfront areas. It reminded me of my hometown, and that got me reminiscing in a melancholy manner about my hometown in Scotland, and the strangely surreal other life I lived there. From the time I was 14 until 15 I lived in Ayr, Scotland, a 'resort' satellite of Glasgow. Residents of Ayr say that they are from Glasgow, much as residents of Richmond say they are from Vancouver, or people in St. Albert say they're from Edmonton. For all intents and purposes Ayr is Glasgow.
Anyway Joyce was talking about the waterfront, and I spent a lot of time at the waterfront. My friends and I used to wander the streets at night in search of Catholics to terrorize and in fear of Catholics in greater numbers. I lived in a somewhat deeper state of fear, the fear that my Protestant friends would find out that I was technically a Catholic (although I'd hardly spent a day in church except for weddings and funerals).
Anyway generally we'd wander a similar route each night, one that was safe enough that we were never in any real danger from any real enemies, yet edgy enough that we still felt mean and bold.
We weren't good kids, and to be honest, in my experience, Glasgow doesn't produce many of what you would traditionally call good kids. It's an industrial city (or was when I was there), torn by sectarian violence and poverty, essentially a factory for juvenile delinquents. Yet the same factors that roughen the edges of a person's character also tend to bring out a certain poetic appreciation of life's brighter moments.
Anyway, my memories of the waterfront, which have me lost in an ebbing tide of cold north atlantic reverie are as follows.
I remember a small chip shop located in a narrow street, nestled between a bookies and a snooker parlor, and we'd mosh (when it was still called slam dancing) around the store making the girl at the counter laugh, while a few of our friends looted beer out of the back. Then down the street we'd go.
Some nights we'd hop the wall of the scrap metal yard if we saw a particularly lucrative piece of scrap and toss it over the side. The next day we'd run it down to another scrap yard in Kilmarnock and make a little cash to finance our misadventures. We'd go down to the harbor, down by the wharf and try to bum cigarettes off of the Portugese and Spanish truck drivers that were there buying and selling fish; holding up our coins and asking "Fumare?" while making a smoking motion. And I remember one cold November night in particular. Guy Fox Day, when all over Britain they have bonfires to mark the anniversary of failed bomber Guy Fox's attempt to blow up the Houses of Parliament. They had the big bonfire down on the beach, but it was a bitterly cold night with a ferocious wind coming in over the sea. I had a bottle of hard liquor of some kind, and couldn't handle my liquor very well. Somehow I got separated from my friends, and I stood drunk and freezing on the beach, staring out across the ocean wishing I could swim home to Canada.
Anyway, it's bizarre for me because it's like a different life. I have no connection with that other life, no friend to call up and say 'remember when', no familiar street to walk down and reminisce. It's as if I dreamt it all.

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Novosibirsk: There Are Worse Places.
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Thursday, December 13, 2007 at 8:15pm | Edit Note | Delete
Novosibirsk is one of the biggest cities in Russia and considered the third largest city after Moscow and St.Petersburg and the biggest one behind the Ural. It's situated right in the middle of Russia. The City lies on both banks of the Ob river.The day when construction of the new bridge across the Ob river was started is considered to be the day when Novosibirsk was founded.
In 1993 Novosibirsk celebrated it's 100th anniversary and it's growing rate is so high,that we can call the city the Russian Chicago.
Travelers coming from the countries with mild climate may find Novosibirsk’s winter tough but it will not be extraordinary for those from northern countries. Sometimes, bitter cold may hold for some days, but these temperatures of -40 C and lower do not occur every year. In contrast, springtime is not the best season for visiting Novosibirsk. Streets and roads become dirty because of mud and melting snow, and weather is still cold.
"Hello guys! My name is Victor Tolokonsky. I'm a governor around these parts. I'm gonna give you some brief information on what Novosibirsk is all about." (That's an actual picture and quote from the Novosibirsk website) http://www.allsiberia.com/novosibirsk/Geninfo.htm
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Updated about 9 months ago


How Cold Is It?
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Thursday, December 13, 2007 at 8:20am | Edit Note | Delete
First off, I love Saskatchewan and Saskatoon in particular, but I HATE the weather here. I belong in the tropics. I've been working on convincing my wife that the whole family belongs in the tropics. My latest piece of propaganda is this. I've always said that Saskatchewan has the worst weather on Earth. And I've mentioned that when people talk about cold and misery, they always use the analogy of Siberia. In all fairness there are parts of Siberia that get a little bit colder. There is a town in the extreme northern part of Siberia that once recorded a low of -71. But again in all fairness, most of the population of Siberial lives closer to the trans Siberian railroad. So if we are to compare the populated areas of Siberia with the populated areas of Saskatchewan we get an interesting result. Here's the wiki on Siberia's climate:

The climate of Siberia varies dramatically. On the north coast, north of the Arctic Circle, there is just a very short (about one-month-long) summer.
Almost all the population lives in the south, along the Trans-Siberian railroad. The climate here is continental subarctic, with the annual average temperature about 0 °C (32 °F) and roughly −15 °C (5 °F) average in January and +20 °C (68 °F) in July.

Ha! You, know, I'm considering wintering in Siberia to get away from the cold. I love that climate descriptor too, 'continental subarctic'. That's where most of us live people. In the freakin' continental subarctic. We don't have to live this way! There are sub-tropical climates in Canada. I'd love to write more, but I have to go back outside. My minivan should be warmed up by now, and I need to scrape the windows (yes, I have a tool specifically designed to chip ice and remove frozen debris off of my vehicle daily). If this isn't insanity, I don't know what is.
All of the purple areas have frostbite.
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27 Years Ago.
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Wednesday, December 12, 2007 at 5:01pm | Edit Note | Delete
A whacko took out John Lennon.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEOkxRLzBf0
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Scanning the News So You Don't Have To
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Wednesday, December 12, 2007 at 1:33pm | Edit Note | Delete
What would you people do without me? You'd have to spend HOURS searching the net for the kind of stories that I deliver.
For instance, the IKEA well-endowed dog story.
There is a bit of controversy surrounding the first photo (a 2 page foldout!) in the 2007 IKEA catalog. The pic shows a happy family enjoying some quality time lounging in bed. Also on their bed is the family dog, a greyhound or whippet lying with his massive schlong out for all the world to see. On a side note, if Calvin Klein was using dog's as models, I think that he would probably use a similar dog. These breeds have that lean, hungry look with the detailed musculature. Anyway, even more interesting, is that this dog's unit looks incredibly human. Whippets and greyhounds do not have human like penises, as ANYONE who's ever spent anyt time around a racing dog's wang can tell you. The pic has led some to theorize that somewhere along the chain of production, a mischievous employee (and genius if you ask me!) altered the pic.
IKEA Canada swears that this dog is all natural, and that there has been no photo-shopping of any kind applied. They state that what appears to be a human-like penis in the picture is really an optical illusion created by the positioning of the dog's leg. I'll leave you to judge for yourselves. Please...take a moment from your busy day and look closely at this dog's genitals.
I'm glad this dog wasn't in my gym class. Not only could he have easily outrun me...
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Updated about 9 months ago


Honour Killings.
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Wednesday, December 12, 2007 at 9:46am | Edit Note | Delete
A popular 16 year old girl in Ontario was killed by her father this week for refusing to wear the traditional muslim Habib headscarf. The young girl would frequently change into clothes of a more western style upon arriving at school. Her brothers and sisters would often follow her and report back to her father. She joins a growing list in Canada of young girls being murdered in a perverted conception of family 'honour'.

The United Nations estimates at least 5,000 women a year are killed for committing adultery, defying tradition, or for simply talking to the wrong man and thereby bringing shame upon relatives.

Exact numbers are impossible to know because the majority of such murders -- women are the main victims -- go unreported and the guilty unpunished.

United Muslim Women of Canada's Anisa Ali said the public shouldn't assume that honour killings only happen in the Muslim community.

"It's not an Islamic practice," Ali told CTV's Canada AM on Wednesday. "There's nowhere in the Quran where it talks about honour killings. It's more of a cultural phenomenon."

She said honour killings are not limited to Islamic countries like Pakistan, Jordan, Syria and Afghanistan.

"There's Latin American countries, it has taken place in Germany, in Britain," she said. "A lot of it is under the guise of family honour or religious values."
Aqsa Parvez, from Mississauga, Ont., is seen on the left without a hijab and on the right with a hijab.
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Updated about 9 months ago


This is the kind of thing that keeps me up at night.
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Tuesday, December 11, 2007 at 11:56pm | Edit Note | Delete
I was just about to go to bed when I look at the TV and see that my wife is watching "Boston Legal". Candace Bergen was in a scene with some scarf thing wrapped around her neck. It occurred to me that Candace Bergen always has something wrapped around her throat. I'm wondering what the Hell is so hideous about Bergen's neck that she has to hide it. It can't be any worse than James Spader's chin(s). My guess is that during a filming of the Murphy Brown show she tripped on approach to the news desk and took one of those long thin MatchGame '76 type microphones in the trachea. They managed to get the mike out, but not without leaving a huge open gash there. Without the scarf her throat starts sucking air with a hideous noise. OMG! I just figured it out! I'm not making this up. Candace Bergen is the daughter of Edgar Bergen, the famed ventriloquist that was the voice and the life of Charlie McCarthy, the monocled dummy you might recall from back in the day. Candace Bergen has ALWAYS covered her throat, and the answer now is obvious. She's a highly complex ventriloquist's dummy. Without the scarf you'd see her only flaw: the line where her head screws onto her neck. There, now I can sleep.