So Canada now has a Liberal minority government. They took 135 seats. 155 is the magic number needed to form a majority government, but the thinking is that they will seek NDP support for moves they want to make, and thereby have the strength necessary. Martin, of course, is crowing his delight over the results and shooting his mouth off about the "voters having spoken". Yep, some of the voters have spoken, but that's just the problem.
We have the incredible luxury of casting a vote in safety, free from censure and fear. We have the right to make our wishes about the governing party known, here in Canada. Compare an election in this country to, say, one in Haiti, or so many other places you could name. Yet, only 60.3% of Canada's voters cast their ballot in this election, and that's the lowest turnout since 1898. You can bet, however, that there will be 101% turnout for complaining about how the government does things, for just as long as it lasts. No minority government in Canada's history has lasted more than two years, at the most. The lazy louts who couldn't be bothered to get off their asses yesterday and "speak their mind" may not have long to laze about in their comfortable routine of bitch and whine before they'll have to come up with another handy-dandy excuse for not going to cast their vote in the next federal election.
I have seen this whole routine played out so many times in the classroom, in miniature imitation of the adult world. So many of the kids are incredibly adept, at pretty early ages, at giving detailed explanations as to why the whole world (or, at least the kid seated beside them) is responsible for their miserable performance. They give any and every aspect of their school life the minimum of effort, and then the energy they could have spent in pursuit of excellence, they expend, instead, on blaming everybody but themselves for how things turn out. It's no different out there where the adults spend their days. "Oh God, this must be the worst government we've had since (fill in the blank). I can't believe the decision they've made about (fill in the blank). This is going to hit us so hard! And furthermore ... what? Me? Go to vote? No, I'm (pick any one of the following) *too busy that morning/afternoon/evening *not sure my vote will accomplish anything *purposely avoiding voting as a form of protest.
I love that last one especially. I know Paul Martin is likely consumed with chagrin about all those "non-vote protests". No, wait a minute, maybe it's Harper unable to look himself in the face, or, I guess it could be Layton. Just who the hell is it who you indolent idiots supposedly slapped in the face with your absence from the polls?
If you really want to know who you affected with your puerile laziness, why don't you non-voters go stand in front of the mirror and take a really good look at the person you treated like a fool?

I'll keep this one short. I just came across some absolutely mind-boggling stupidity, and so, of course, I thought I'd share it with you! Have you ever heard of Thomas L. Friedman, a columnist for the great and mighty New York Times? This savant, apparently, has a "Golden Arches Theory of Conflict Prevention". He wrote about it first in his column in December 1996, and repeated it in a book he wrote, called "The Lexus and the Olive Tree". Here it comes ... (could we get a drum roll?) ... the man believes that no two countries that have a McDonald's ever fight a war against each other! (You have no idea how much I wanted to add on at least eight or nine more exclamation marks, but I restrained myself.) At the time the book came into print, the U.S. air force was bombing Belgrade, where there were seven branches of McDonald's happily serving up those quarter pounders. Not to be daunted, when this seeming anomaly was pointed out to him, he was able to 'explain' how this war was just the exception that proved his rule!
This man has actually been awarded the Pulitzer Prize.

I was in the car yesterday and listening to the news when I heard something that made my jaw drop. I'm bruised from where it hit the steering wheel! A region close to where I live will soon be releasing a convict. The police in the region are so concerned about his release that they are considering doing the unusual and publicizing his name and picture. Why are they so concerned? Well, this piece of filth has sixty (yep, I got the number right, 'cause the announcer repeated it twice), that's sixty convictions on his record, for things like rape and forcible confinement, among others. His own mother has lobbied for his permanent incarceration. He has stated in front of witnesses that his goal in life is to become Canada's most prolific killer, ever.
Who is the brain-dead idiot who will sign the final signature, the one needed to secure this animal's release? Who is the bleeding-heart liberal who would mumble on about this person's "rights"? This piece of garbage has no right to anything but a lethal injection, or maybe a firing squad. I can imagine the charges of insensitivity levelled against me when I make my next statement, but here goes. I sincerely hope that if this criminal strikes again, the judge or whoever it might be who signs this pariah back out into our midst, will be the father, or the husband, or some relation to the victim. How cruel of me! Yeah, yeah, but if he is freed and the pattern of recidivism in his life holds true, then someone will be plunged into mourning and it might as well be that official, as anyone else.
Bring back capital punishment, Canada. It is the only way to ensure that a killer will never strike again. Whenthey take it upon themselves to end another's life, they declare through their own actions, they give up all former rights they had to life. Don't waste the taxpayer's money on people convicted of murder or child abuse. The solicitor-general of Canada is satisfied with the veracity of the statement that punishment has little deterrent value on such offenders. Do the whole procedure of prosecution and trail the proper way, of course. Use every bit of modern technology at our disposal - the DNA testing, everything. Once a person is convicted though, let's draw the line right there. Cut the crap about any last meal. Food costs, and a person like that isn't worth a penny spent on one more morsel. Just usher them right out the backdoor of the courtroom and have the firing squad ready. Save the nonsense about the inhumanity of such punishment, please. Just give a minute instead to thinking about the moments of terror that ended their last victim's life, and then get our of the way while we pull the trigger.

I'm waiting for June the 30th to arrive. That's when I will take the final step to complete the process of my being accepted as a volunteer for the CNIB. They are a much needed and valuable organization. Working for them is something I want to do, something with meaning for me. My father was blind in one eye. I have had eye surgery twice and without my glasses, the world becomes a huge blur. I have volunteered there before, long years ago when Hector was still a pup. As a teacher, I have opened my classroom multiple times to speakers and guests from the CNIB. I have learned from them how to give sighted guide. I have learned from them how to learn in a manner that best fits this context.
Now, having said all of that, here's the bone I have to pick. When I attend this "training session", one of the things I will be expected to do is something I have done before, and I will do again. I will have to don a blindfold and be guided about the room, as well having a partner do the same with me, in turn. WHY? WHY? WHY? Can anyone tell me what on earth this is really supposed to accomplish? And please, do not tell me that it will give me, or any other prospective vounteer, an "understanding" of what it is to be blind. It can not. It simply can not. Think about it. When someone sighted ties on that blindfold, they KNOW that all they need to do is be patient for a little while, and then the thing comes off. For someone who is visually challenged, their 'blindfold' will never come off, and they KNOW that, too. Where is the sense in this? Teach me, instead. Teach me specifics, like touching the back of my hand to the back of theirs when I am first offering to guide them. Teach me not to take their arm, but to wait until they take mine. Teach me these things and others, but don't ask me to play this silly game, a game that I can't help but feel is demeaning to the very individuals I am there to help. Get real, people!
Let's think about this, and extend it to other situations for a moment. If I wanted to volunteer help to the War Amps Association, for instance, which body part would they lob off, in order for me to "experience" being an amputee? And, what would they do for their equivalent of 'taking the blindfold off' again? Some surgeon could really make his/her living being on call for their volunteer orientation sessions! What if I volunteered to work with the Cancer Society? Notice they don't ask you to submit to any strange injections with cells they won't identify? They don't ask you to pretend, they just ask you to get going with the job at hand. Get real, people! Your "training methods" date from the dark ages. Bring yourselves up to this century.

Alright, correct me if I'm wrong, but I am pretty sure the screaming would have been heard from here to Hong Kong, had the shoe been on the other foot.
A little background info first. I am a teacher, and I am looking for a couple of new students to tutor. I called a Korean community newspaper a while ago and placed an ad in their paper. The young man who took my call struggled with his English, but I spelled out the words he needed me to and we did just fine. He quoted me the price first. Then I asked him if he would translate the ad to Korean so I could reach more of his readers, and said I would pay for the service. He said no, he would do it as a courtesy and that the same price still stood. A Korean-speaking acquaintance told me the next day she had seen my ad. I include that tidbit so you all know everything was indeed according to Hoyle, in that paper.
Now, here's the part of the story that has me grinding my molars. I called a big-name, Chinese community newspaper last week to place the same ad. The woman who took my call has never even looked up the meaning of the word "polite"; not in Chinese, not in English, not in any language! She was unfriendly, from the get-go. There was an accent to her english that said she was indeed from Asia, but her english was clear and capable. Nonetheless, she refused to take the ad over the phone. "English is too hard", said she. She insisted I had to fax the content to her and added that I should put my Visa # on the fax. She quoted me the price of $69.82 for three days and then told me it would be extra to have the ad translated. When I expressed unwillingness to do as she asked with my Visa info, her next idea was that I should go down there in person to pace the ad. I took another route. Enlisting the aid of a friend, who happens to be chinese, I gave him a copy of the ad and asked him to phone. Whole different world? Well, the price was suddenly $52.70 for three weeks, and there was no trouble taking the ad over the phone.
Now, you tell me. How do we explain what transpired there? Is that racism at work? Intolerance? A supremacist attitude? Tell me, if the tables were turned, don't you think the screaming about some westerner doing that to her would be filled with phrases like 'systemic discrimination'? I was born and raised here. This is my country, my place of origin. I have always been open to all and accepting of everyone. To me, a person is a man or woman I have just met, and might get to know, BEFORE they are anything else - before they are white or black, before they are eastern or western. Don't try to tell me that Toronto is filled with white supremacists, until you have looked around and counted the number of supremacists in your own community.
Yes, I was born and raised here. I am white. I am western. I make no apologies to anyone for that. Canada is my country. If it is yours, too, then let's be friendly, and share it. Be just as fair with me, as you demand I be with you.