Taste and Try Before You Buy

If you're a GTA resident looking for either Noni juice or frozen entrees and desserts made with no sugar, no preservatives, no colour and no MSG, then you need to know about Charlotte's Foods Corporation.
Operation out of a small-front unit on West Beaver Creek Road in Richmond Hill, Charlotte's is a veritable treasure trove of tasty treats. Make the trip there, as we did on Sunday and you may well find yourself talking to Charlotte herself, a 73-year-old-youngster, brimming with energy and armed with many a story to tell while you try the sample she dishes up as soon as you walk in. Being a canny Scot, Charlotte is a firm believer in her mother's saying, "taste and try before you buy". She says she usually gives a sample of her apple pie, but the day we were there she also had a sample of carrot cake to beguile our taste buds.
Charlotte showed us the Noni juice she sells to any and all at C$25.00 for a 1,000 ml/ 34 fl.oz bottle. Made with only fresh, wild Noni fruit, the tonic is sold by her at that price as a draw to customers. Wise woman that she is, she knows anyone walking in there in pursuit of the Noni will find it well nigh impossible to leave without a further purchase of some of her taste temptations.
As we savoured every crumb of her offerings, she told wonderful stories that took us on a wee tour of her mother's shop back in Glasgow, where Charlotte learned her craft. A chat with Charlotte and being treated to some of her stories is every bit worth the time as her baking.
She makes six different fruit pies, from wild blueberry and raspberry to Norfolk Cherry and peach. Likewise, six types of muffins are there to help you feel wonderfully righteous about eating one of them. Compare some of Charlotte's numbers to those of Tim Horton's, for instance, and you'll understand what I mean.
Charlotte's blueberry-cornmeal muffin has the highest calorie count, at 235, with 4.4 grams of fat. The raisin bran muffin she offers for your delectation will add 151 calories to your daily count along with 2.9 grams of fat.
On the other hand, the wheat-carrot muffin at Horton's, the highest count there, will hit you with 400 calories and a total of 19 grams of fat. Their raisin-bran muffin will load you down with 380 calories and 9 grams of fat. Those following calorie or carbohydrate-reduced diets would do well to look up Charlotte's Foods.
There are several squares and a cheesecake as well on the dessert list, all of which come frozen baked, or frozen unbaked. If you want a selection baked for you, you're asked to call ahead and be ready to add 2 hours to your order.
In case you're still not sold, you should know there are seven frozen unbaked entrees offered and two more microwaveable entrees. They range from a vegetable or chicken broccoli quiche to Scottish Meat Pie and Chili Con Carne. At current prices, the Scottish Meat Pie is the most expensive. It will lighten your wallet by $11.95 but you'll have 6 servings to show for it. Any of the entrees and desserts offer you the convenience of good food without the work of preparation, but with a healthy difference from many of those available in the freezer sections of regular grocery stores.
Charlotte's hours of operation are 11:30 a.m. Monday to Saturday, and you can reach the business at 905-709-9079. They're located at 55 West Beaver Creek Road, unit 46. You can e-mail them at nosugar@bellnet.ca.
Look into it. You'll be glad you did.

Judging on Merit or on Skin Tone?

After learning about the "doll test" on Sunday, I came across a release of study results today that also delves into the topic of skin colour and the characteristics the general public equates with that colour. They both point to the very real need for more work to be done in making people aware of the prejudices that surround skin tone.
The study I refer to is one done by Matthew Harrison, a doctoral student at the University of Georgia, and his faculty supervisor, Kecia Thomas, a professor of applied psychology and acting director of UGA's Institute for African American Studies. The results indicate that the darker a person's skin tone is, the greater the disadvantage will be when that person applies for a job. The study was designed specifically to investigate the effects of "colourism" in hiring and the workplace.
Participants in the study were asked to rate resumes that came with photographs of the theoretical job applicant, a man or a woman, whose skin was either dark, medium, or light. Harrison found that the light-skinned applicant with less education was generally preferred over the darker-skinned, more well-educated applicant, especially if the applicant was male.
Harrison offers the daunting explanation that "expectations of the light-skinned black male are much higher, and he doesn't appear as 'menacing' as the darker-skinned male applicant."
Menacing? What are we talking about here? Do people think he will show up at the workplace armed with a machete, as though he were the archetypal bad-guy from a movie about the Kikuyu Land Freedom Army? Do they picture themselves as Victor Mature in the movie "Safari", striving singlehandedly to save the ranks of white employees from the murderous MauMau lurking behind the water cooler? Truly, society is in need of an awareness campaign.
Harrison's study exposes the reality of a skin-tone preference at play in job applicant selection. He theorizes it may be due to the "common belief that fair-skinned blacks probably have more similarities with whites than do dark-skinned blacks, which in turn makes whites feel more comfortable around them."
More comfortable? What is this about? Why should it be of any significance at all whether or not the whites are comfy-womfy? Is there a suggestion here that the greatest comfort level for the whites would be achieved by putting the black women in maid's attire and the black men in livery? Certainly that would make their presence on the job site more easily understandable by all as the non-menacing hirelings the whites could snap their fingers at when they were thirsty, or wanted a go-fer job done.
Society, says Harrison, "equates lighter skin with attractiveness, intelligence, competency and likeability". No shit, Sherlock.
The question we need to ask now is not why, but when? When are we going to stop just tsk-tsking over results like those found by Harrison and Kiri Davis? When are we going to get off our societal fat-ass and start doing something about it?

The Doll Test

In 1954, psychologist Kenneth B. Clark used the "doll test" t help make his case for the desegregation of public schools. Last year, the test was duplicated in Harlem, N.Y. by Kiri Davis, a 17-year-old student of Manhattan's Urban Academy who was participating in the Reel Works Teen Fimmaking program. One reason the film has made it out of the competition and into the news is because of the results of the doll test being so disappointingly the same as those found by Clark. The more some things change, dear god, the more they remain the same.

These results shouldn't be viewed with any superiority/complacency by Canadians, however. I know from firsthand experience that the test would not come out well here, either.

In the late 90's I was teaching in a school in an upscale area of Toronto, and it was there that I had my own sad little intro to the doll phenomenon. A girl in my grade four class had shared her Christmas wish with her mother. She came to me to tell about that wish, and to ask me for help. It seems the mother had asked her daughter if she would like to get a Black Barbie for Christmas. The girl had answered with an emphatic "No!" When asked for an explanation, she told her mother she didn't want an "ugly doll". She wanted a white one, a pretty one that looked just the same as the girl wanted to look when she grew up. The mother was aghast at her daughter's voicing of such a feeling. She felt that the girl might listen more to someone she perceived as a "voice of authority" than to something coming from a home source.

I swung into action immediately, feeling good that the mother thought I could help, and feeling so bad that she even felt the need to come to me. The rest of that school year was spent by my class doing a lot more than just learning the difference between a noun and a verb. We spent a whole lot of time involved in activities meant to nurture the idea of taking pride in yourself, and helping others to do the same. It became a busy, busy year and the rest of it flew by, until the last day arrived and the mother returned.

She brought me a small gift and gave it to me with tears in her eyes. Then she told me what she had come to say and tears came to my eyes, too. She hugged me and told me that her daughter had just asked her for a new doll. Could she have another Barbie, she had asked. Could she have a beautiful Black Barbie, one as special as she was? I will always remember that scene in the classroom that day and the feeling that swept through me with that mother's words.

I feel tears in my eyes again when I watch the video "A Girl Like Me". There is so much left to be done, so much still that needs to be changed. We just can't let it stay the same.

Sean-the Moron-Markey

Move over, Idiot File members, here comes another one.
Lately the "Discover" magazine has taken to ending their current issue with a last page article titled "20 Things You Didn't Know About ---". Some of the little tidbits they present on the topic du jour can be quite interesting, but this month they have wandered off the beaten path and stepped in it up to their knickers, as far as I'm concerned.
The February 2007 issue ends with "20 Things You Didn't Know About Skin" and it's alright, until you get to item #13. "In blind people, the brain's visual cortex is rewired to respond to stimuli received through touch and hearing, so they literally "see" the world by touch and sound." That's the little pile of fresh horseshit that writer Sean Markey spread around on lucky #13.
For a long time, people have mouthed those words of folk wisdom, I think in some kind of feeling of needing to make it all better; needing to explain away the problems of blindness in such a way as to ease any and all guilt they might feel in not offering more help to the afflicted. Being struck with the loss of vision is a frightening prospect for anyone, but if we all pretend it comes along with some kind of magic compensation package, we can lessen the need for involvement; lessen the need to be anywhere near those living with this particular challenge. It seems to me to be a leftover from the days when fear of possible contagion led to waving a silver cross at anyone who could threaten our secure little world.
Markey should have done a whole lot more research before he penned that article. It is unacceptable in its proliferation of the myth that blindness comes with a magic heightening of the other senses in compensation for the loss of sight. Whatever "rewiring" might take place in the visual cortex, it does not allow the blind to see anything. When they feel something, they feel it. Period. They do not see the print on the page, or the colours in the photo through their fingertips. They do not see the colour of their loved ones' eyes, or the route number on the bus pulling into the station. How do you see the fiery splendour of a magnificent sunset by touch or sound, Mr. Markey?
The blind do not "see" through sound, either. I have walked a busy street in Toronto with clients of the CNIB who have to stop at every intersection and listen carefully for the sounds of traffic. I have heard them explain how they are taught to listen for the sound of the traffic moving in the same direction as they want to walk, before they step out. I have been right there and seen the hesitation while the light changed from red to green more than once before they felt they could cross. I have also seen the drivers who seem to be visually impaired themselves. They don't seem to see that person stepping off the curb in front of them, going with the green light. I wonder if Mr. Markey has any idea of what an act of courage it can take to step out onto the street knowing that you might well be stepping out in front of an oncoming car, no matter how carefully you have listened to the sound of the traffic. Bottom line? The best you can do so many times is trust your safety to others, because you can not see the world through your sense of sound. I wonder, would Mr. Markey be content to "see" a busy street he wanted to cross with only his sense of sound?
I have also been there at the CNIB after a particular student had missed several classes to see him finally return to the group. He came with an explanation of how he had been hit at an intersection by someone who knocked him down, and drove away without even stopping. At least, he thinks they did not stop. Maybe he just wasn't using his sense of sound and touch carefully enough. Maybe the driver did stop long enough to see if he was OK, before they took off. What do you think, Markey? If this person "saw"the hit-and-run driver had at least stopped for a minute, would that have made him feel better? He really should make sure he "sees" more carefully next time, don't you think? After all, his visual cortex has all that magic rewiring.
Last winter, one of the students made it to a class on a day when the winter weather kept several of the others at home. At the next class, however, he told us about his mishap on the way home that day. He was using his white cane to feel his way along the walk, but the snow and winter conditions can interfere with the efficacy of the canes. He didn't detect the patch of ice in front of him until he stepped onto it and fell. At that point, he lost hold of his cane. His dark glasses came off, too, sliding away from him across the icy patch. This all happened on Bayview Avenue, out in front of the CNIB. Anyone familiar with Toronto knows that it is a busy stretch of road. When this incident occurred, it was twelve noon, a busy time of day.
After he fell, this individual stayed down on the ice for a moment or two assessing his bumps and bruises, before he got to his hands and knees. He felt about for his cane and glasses. Neither one was close to hand. He crawled further, hoping to find them still on the sidewalk, because if they had slid onto the street, they were as good as lost to him. He could not dare to step out onto the street to feel about for them there. After some searching he found his cane, a short distance away from where he landed. He could not find his glasses. He got to his feet and swept the sidewalk with his cane for some distance, both forward and backward from where he had landed. He could not locate them.
Those glasses may have been lying just off to the side, in the snow. If they were, they stayed there, because neither his sense of sound or touch allowed him to see them. Worse than the loss of his glasses, though, was the loss of his dignity and his feeling of value to the other members of his own species. This scene took some length of time to transpire. During that whole time, not one voice called out to him, "Do you need help?" I do not believe that the street and the sidewalk were both mysteriously empty for exactly the amount of time it took from his falling to his finally walking away.
Someone passed by. Either someone drove by or someone walked by. Perhaps even both. No-one offered any help. No-one. What do you think, Markey? Might that have been because they were telling themselves that load of shit that you wrote for the magazine?
I can just hear the conversation in a passing car."Look at the blind guy on his ass on the sidewalk, Martha. What a good thing he has his magic compensation package of heightened sensory perception to take care of everything. We don't need to stop and offer any help at all."

Hope This Phoenix Never Rises

My Idiot Files just can't keep up to the demand for membership. The big problem with this latest addition is that the membership-seekers I'm about to introduce to you are not doing something that they can guarantee won't harm us all. It could smash every one of us in the face before these pointy-head dodos are finished.
It seems that scientists at the Gustave Roussy Institute in Villejuif, France have been busily reconstructing the DNA sequence of a human retrovirus that attacked our forebears five million years ago. They have shown that it is able to produce infectious particles. Proud of their work, they have given their baby a name, calling it "Phoenix". It is the "ancestor of a large family of mobile DNA elements, some of which may play a role in cancer".
The motivation may be to determine the role played by retroviruses in such human diseases as germline tumours and melanomas, but surely the researchers could find some other way to do this. They have shown that their resurrected retrovirus is capable of infecting mammalian cells in culture. One more lab to worry about. One more potential security breach to lose sleep over. It seems somehow fitting that I found this little news nugget on Robert Burns' day. Obviously, those French scientists have never read the Bard's lines, "The best laid plans o' mice an' men/ Gang aft agley". The lines and their meaning have been used so often by so many that they have a spot in the "Dictionary of Cultural Literacy". If that tome is too much for the scientists to slog their way through, maybe someone could introduce them to another source of food for thought. Michael Crichton loves to base his novels on medical technology gone awry.
This one sounds like perfect fodder for Crichton's pen.

Haggis, Neeps and Tatties

Happy Robbie Burns day to you! If you are interested, the birth and the marriage certificates of the Bard have been made available online for the first time, in celebration of today. Follow this link to the website of the General Register Office of Scotland, and click away! If viewing the documents whets your appetite for a wee bit more, head over to BBC Scotland. Especially if you're going to be hosting a Burns Day dinner and you've made use of the haggis recipe I gave a few days ago, the previous link will allow you to access a little dinner music from the "Travelling Folk", live from the Celtic Connections Festival via BBC Radio Scotland.

Who's Got Your Data?

Last week, TJX Cos. of Framingham, Massachusetts revealed the news that "a hacker" had broken into its computer systems and stolen confidential customer info relating to credit and debit cards. TJX operates T.J. Maxx and Marshalls in the States, as well as Winners and HomeSense in Canada. It's being referred to as "one of the most high-profile privacy thefts in recent memory".
The Massachusetts Bankers' Association yesterday said that some of the data stolen has been used to make fraudulent purchases in Florida, Georgia and Louisiana, as well as Hong Kong and Sweden. Here in Canada, thousands have already been victimized by fraud, with a possible total of two million vulnerable. All the numbers are expected to rise to between 20 to 40 million worldwide.
Just to add to your sense of security, if you have any left, the day after TJX broke its big news, the CIBC revealed that it had "lost a computer hard-drive" containing personal info on nearly half a million of its Talvest customers. Before you say, "that one doesn't concern me", be aware of this. "Lost" devices are the greatest source of data breaches.
According to a short article by Patrick Di Justo, writing in the February 2007 issue of "Wired", those lost devices account for a whopping 35% of all losses of personal data. Now there's comforting news for you. Di Justo claims that, unlike the widespread image of "numbers being swiped by some brilliant unwashed hacker in a dank basement in Gdansk" the culprit is usually a trusted company employee "dumb-assedly" leaving his laptop on public transit. Hackers, he says, only account for 7% of the data breaches that put us all into such tenuous positions regarding identity theft.
What's really interesting to me in this latest breach is, that after reading Di Justo's article, I came across one at globeandmail.com telling its readers that the U.S. parent company had learned about the breach back in December. Although they realized the intruder had accessed records back to 2003, it took them quite some time before they got the news out to us, didn't it? Apparently, only 31 states have a law requiring companies to notify customers of such security breaches. The closest Canada gets to such a law is the latest call for one issued on January 10, 2007 by the Canadian Internet Policy and Public Interest Clinic at the University of Ottawa. They note that "neither the Canadian Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act (PIPEDA) nor corresponding provincial statutes includes an explicit security breach notification requirement". The Globe and Mail lets you know that spokespeople for Visa, offered at four of Canada's five largest banks, and for MasterCard were all "unavailable for comment".
What we're being told here is that the banks allow employees to take home laptops, computers loaded with enough data to have every one of our personal identities stolen, without any provision made for safeguarding that data. Either the employee should bloody well have the laptop welded to their forehead, or they should not be taking them home. If they can't finish their work within regular working hours they're either looking at overtime, or just leaving it for another day. What do we need to make them stop carrying people's identities around and carelessly leaving them behind?
Di Justo lists 19% as the number of customers who switch to another service after one they use announces a security breach. Once you know a few of the above details, you realize there's little point in switching. It would seem that all the big corporations regard each one of us individually as less than worthy of their concern.
Looking anxiously about for hackers is not the necessity so many thought. As Di Justo declares, "We have met the enemy - and he just got off the bus empty-handed."

Is That You, Scrooge?

When Charles Dickens wrote his "Christmas Carol", he described the money-loving Ebenezer Scrooge as a " squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, covetous" creature. I'm going to borrow that line from him to describe Montreal publisher Robert Davies, because I think it's an absolute perfect fit. Davies is obviously a man driven by avarice.
He tells of a scene between himself and his supposed friend, Pierre Trudeau, that took place over lunch one day in 1992. Having done some favour for Trudeau, Davies then pressed him in return to sign a reproduction copy of the 1982 Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Trudeau demurred at first, protesting that it was his wont to sign nothing. In his own telling of the story, Davies says he persisted in his request, referring to the favour he had just done for Trudeau. Although he refuses to give detail on this supposed good turn, he does say Trudeau "appreciated" it.
I would say that his use of the favour to pressure Trudeau into doing something against his better instincts proves that it was not something done simply as a good turn for a friend. It was done solely to turn the acquaintance into cold cash, as Davies has proven by his listing the item on e-Bay with a starting bid of $5,000.00 U.S. He lists it as a piece of history, and expects the suitably impressed to flock to the auction, and drive the bid up to match his avaricious desires.
In case his dream doesn't materialize on e-Bay, the greedy one has also approached several lawyers who describe themselves as Trudeau admirers, looking for a private sale.
If all else fails, Mr. Gimme-Money says he will pursue a private sale to a museum.
As of early Wednesday afternoon, the item had 10 bids, the highest being US $6,700.00.
You're a right nasty old Scrooge, you are, Davies, putting a price on any piece of your country's history just to line your own pockets. I have a suggestion for you. Give the document to the national archives. Just give. Don't ask a penny for it. Do it for the love of your country and in honour of Trudeau, to prove that you actually meant the appellation when you called him friend.
Just give it.

Great Chieftain o' the Pudding-Race!

"Aboon them a' ye tak your place"

So says Robbie Burns, singing the praise of haggis, in his poem, "Address to a Haggis". Having people on my paternal grandmother's side that hail from Robbie's homeland, I'm about to toss the recipe for the aforementioned delicacy at you. Read on and then you can decide if you agree that such a concoction should take the place of honour above all others.
If you have a strong stomach and just reading the recipe isn't enough to make you gag, you may actually want to tackle this traditional Scottish dish and serve it to your loved ones on January 25th, in celebration of the birth of Robbie Burns. (Burns is a beloved son of Scotland, a poet who lived in the 1700's.) You may want to forgo sharing the list of ingredients, however. Recipes abound, and I've even seen one for a vegetarian haggis, but that's just being foolish and such an idea would "mak (Burns) spew wi perfect sconner".

Here goes for the real thing ---

*1 sheep's bag (stomach) and pluck (heart, liver, windpipe and lungs)
*4 onions
*1/2 lb. oatmeal
*3 tablespoons salt
*1 tablespoon black pepper
* 1 lb suet

Scrub the bag clean first and soak it in cold, salted water overnight. Turn the bag the wrong side out. Wash the pluck carefully, being sure to scrub away any blood. Place all these bits and pieces in a pan large enough that you can cover them with water, and be sure to leave the windpipe hanging out over the side of the pan. Place a bowl or another pan beneath the windpipe to catch any drops of "impurities". Set the pan to boil, and simmer for two hours. Save some of the water used to boil the pluck. Remove the pan from the heat, and cut away from the pluck any gristle and odd extremities (including the windpipe) that you see.
Mince the suet and chop the onions. Also mince the pluck. Roll up your sleeves now and get your hands right in there. You need to mix together with the oatmeal and seasonings everything that you have chopped and minced. Add a little of the saved water to moisten it all.
Stuff this mixture into the bag and sew it up, but leave lots of room for the mix to expand. Pretend you're a kiltie taking your dirk to a hated sassenach and stab furiously away at the bag with a darning needle for a moment. You need to make holes that will allow steam to escape, to prevent the bag from bursting and spraying your kitchen with half-done haggis.
Boil without a lid for three hours and then the haggis will be ready to grace your table. Bring it out on your finest platter and have some bagpipe music playing, for best effect. Even better, honour tradition and have someone read the poem, "Address to a Haggis" while you carry the "warm-reekin', rich" creation to the table.
Enjoy!

Creationist Caviling Over the Grand Canyon's Age

I revisited the Idiot Files yesterday, above all to add Butch Otter to the ranks, if not all the camouflage-clad hunters cheering his decision to hunt the grey wolf to the edge of extinction.
Today, I am thankful that there is limitless room in the Files, since I just learned of a need to squeeze in untold new members. I am referring specifically to Tom Vail; everyone who has ever bought his book "Grand Canyon: A Different View"; and the morons at National Park Services.
Let's start with Mr. Vail, shall we? Apparently, this mush-brained mental midget has compiled a volume asserting that the Grand Canyon was created by Noah's flood waters, and is therefore no older than literal interpretation of the bible would allow it to be. Be damned to any scientific, geological evidence to the contrary, says Vail.
A quick visit to the NPS site will tell the reader that "the erosion which has shaped the canyon has occurred only in the past five to six million years". It informs the curious that the "Grand Canyon is an erosional feature that owes its existence to the Colorado River", and mentions rock formations there that it dates as being from 250 million years to 2000 million years ago.
The dates here are the big problem. The intervening centuries have brought very little disagreement from the fundamentalist faithful with first century historian Flavius Josephus. This worthy calculated that the flood that damn near swamped Noah's ark washed itself across the firmament 1556 years after the creation of Adam and his fig leaf. Neither have many found fault with the calculations done by James Ussher, Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of All Ireland, and Vice-Chancellor of Trinity College in Dublin. This great thinker lived from 1581 to 1656 and did some amazing work during his lifetime, establishing biblical dates with incredible , um, accuracy. He was able somehow to determine, for instance, that Adam and Eve were driven from the Garden of Eden precisely on the 10th of November, 4004 B.C. It was a Monday, says Ussher. Personally, I was a little disappointed to see that his calculations did not pinpoint the exact hour of the day. I would be curious to know if the disgraced couple at least got some breakfast before their forced exit. That aside, when Ussher did a little figurin' and subtracted 1556 from 4004, (he dates creation as happening in 4004 B.C.) he got 2448 B.C as the date for the deluge. which would mean, therefore, that the Canyon could not possibly be a day older than 4,455 years of age.
Vail worked for a Fortune 500 company in Los Angeles, managing the computer center until he took a 1980 rafting trip through Grand Canyon. Apparently, he bumped into god one day and was inspired to do a one-eighty on the corporate world. He now operates "Canyon Ministries" with his wife, and offers "Christ-centred rafting trips" through the canyon. He compiled the book now sold at the bookstore in the Park, and the fact of its availability for sale there is what has a lot of rational thinkers up in arms. One of the contributors to Vail's volume, "creation scientist" Gary Parker says, "Where did the Grand Canyon itself come from? ... One thing is sure; the Colorado River did not do it."
In August 2003, Park Superintendent Joe Alston attempted to block sales of the book at Grand Canyon Park bookstores. He was overruled by the NPS higher-ups. In the fall of 2003, Donald Murphy, deputy director of the NPS, ordered three bronze plaques featuring quotes from the book of Psalms placed on viewing platforms on the south rim of the Canyon. It would seem that the higher echelons of the NPS are totally losing sight of their mandate. Director's Order #6: Interpretation and Education, approved as effective January 19, 2005 and good until its "Sunset Date" January 19, 2011 states in section 8.4.2. (Staff) "are responsible for ensuring that park ... media are accurate and reflect current scholarship. (Material presented) must be based on the best scientific evidence available (and) must refrain from appearing to endorse religious beliefs explaining natural processes." Since one of the passages quoted from Psalms says "How manifold are your works, O Lord! In wisdom you have wrought them all" it has to be regarded as a media presentation directly promoting christian belief. It could be viewed as offensive by those of scientific mind, and all those of every other religion on earth. If a plaque promoting the views of any one faith is displayed, then there should immediately be added whatever number of others it takes to express the views of every faith espoused by humankind. Either that, or, take them all down.
Get that book out of the store in Grand Canyon Park. Take out each and every volume that contains any "alternate" view of the canyon's creation and geological age. Include those with the creation myths of the American Native Peoples, since their presence is cited by some as justification for the Vail volume. Either that, or bring in a whole shipment of books that explain the creation-of-earth stories told by every religion that has ever committed them to paper.
PEER, (Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility) is charging that the employees at the Park are no longer allowed to give a straight, science-based answer to tourists who ask about the age of the canyon. NPS officials are denying the charge, and certainly their web site's statement of dates seems to give the lie to PEER's charges, but the fact remains that the book compiled by Vail is a blot on the landscape of the Grand Canyon. It is a sad little throw-back to the days of Flavius Josephus. Have we not made any intellectual advances through all the years that have flown past since his day? Have we not found more valuable pursuits for our minds than the pointless pondering over exactly which day of the week it was when god got bored and said "let there be humankind so I can have something entertaining to watch?"
I wonder just exactly how many angels could stand around on the head of a pin, giggling themselves silly until they fall off, laughing at the creationists who can't count past 6,000.

The Idiot Files Revisited

Those already on my list of card-carrying members will have to scootch over and make room. Governor C. L. Otter of Idaho is anxious to swell the ranks of the morons. Nicknamed "Butch", this giant of intellect wants to declare open season on the state's gray wolf population.
Speaking last week to the Associated Press, he announced that he wants hunters to kill about 550 of the animals, leaving only about 150 still alive. Speaking to a rally of hunters on the 11th, he said, "I'm prepared to bid for that first ticket to shoot a wolf myself", earning resounding cheers from the gun-totin', blood-hungry dysfunctionals hanging off his every word. The only restraint on Otter at the moment is the fact that the animals are currently protected under the Endangered Species Act (ESA). The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has, however, announced plans to strip the wolves in Montana and Idaho of their protected status in the next few weeks.
After having been hunted damn near to extinction, wolves were reintroduced to the northern Rockies a decade ago, and now number approximately 1,200 in that region. Idaho's wildlife agency calls for maintaining a minimum of 15 wolf packs in the area so that the animals don't end up right back on the endangered list. Otter's proposed slaughter would take them down to just 10 packs. Suzanne Stone, a spokeswoman for the advocate group "Defenders of Wildlife in Boise" says that number would in fact return the wolves to the point of eradication.
In case you're wondering why Otter is so hot on the trail of these predators, it's because the wolves are killing elk and other animals "essential" to Idaho's multi-million dollar hunting industry, according to the governor.
I think Otter's plans make it clear that he has no knowledge of the ESA, not does he care to. The ESA requires government to identify, and eliminate threats to endangered species. If Otter is proposing an organized orgy of killing that would drive wolf numbers back to endangered levels, it would seem to indicate that Otter needs to remove himself from office in order to comply with the Act. That would be an action requiring intellectual activity and that, of course, is where it would all fall apart. Otter is clearly incapable of intellectual activity.
The Act requires government to take action regarding endangered species based on the best scientific information available. Again, Otter is not interested in such information. The interconnectedness of all aspects of nature is something we humans really do not understand. It is something we tinker with at our own peril, but because to do so does not result in immediate disasters, many refuse to even consider the undesirable potential. It's the same with smokers who know they are playing around with self-inflicted lung cancer, but continue to light up anyway, because the one they're currently smoking is never THE cigarette that slams the coffin lid shut.
The document "Biodiversity: Connecting with the Tapestry of Life" co-produced by the Smithsonian Institution and the President's Committee of Advisors on Science and Technology states, "Species and the ecosystems in which they live are indelibly linked ... changes in the life cycle of one species could impact the life cycles of many other species (including humans), alter ecosystems and ecosystem functions, and contribute to local, regional and, ultimately, global changes." Otter doesn't care. The act of shooting any one wolf will not slam a coffin lid down on his head, more's the pity.
The absence of wolves, a natural predator of elks, has already made itself felt on the riparian vegetation, the streams it borders, and the wildlife that call those places home. Willows growing along river and stream-banks in Yellowstone Park have been seriously overgrazed by the elk population. Since their numbers have been protected from the natural culls arranged each year by Nature, in the form of wolf packs, they have increased to the point where scientists are taking note of the effect they are having on the riparian environment. Too many animals grazing there, uninterrupted for too long, is leading to bank-caving. Excessive deposits of dung and urine are resulting in high levels of coloform bacteria.
Does Otter or anyone he cares about ever go for a dip in one of these waterways on a hot summer day, I wonder? Would he start to figure it all out if they got a good mouthful of the water, and he ended up pacing the floor in emergency? Does he realize that the loss of shaded banks is leading to damage to fish habitats? It would be beneath him to care about that. After all, the mighty hunter does not shoot his firearm off at piscine prey.
All of these concerns related to the overgrazing of riparian vegetation have led the scientific community to recommend the reintroduction of the grey wolf to the national parks of the western U. S. They are not recommending the introduction of Otter and his ilk. They do make note of one aspect of the situation that might serve to grab Otter's attention, however, when they state that "... turning creeks as sources of clean, fresh stock water into ditches of polluted, stagnant water is poor animal husbandry and an unacceptable practice from the standpoint of herd health." If the gun-totin' Otter could just be convinced to let Nature balance things out her own way, he might actually end up having better elk hunting available to him and his brothers in the kill.
The problem is, you can't talk reason or anything vaguely resembling reason to an idiot like Otter. Using words with more than one or two syllables is usually a sure way to lose their interest. The only sound that really holds them is the report of a rifle. No, if Otter has his way, the only "grey wolf" left in his environs will be the so-named hotel standing at the west entrance of Yellowstone Park.

Cleaning Up the Gene Pool

Having written more than once about the flotsam and jetsam swirling about in the waters of christianity, this story really appealed to me. It comes from the files of the 2006 Darwin Awards. Visit the website and you'll find the concept explained thus: "Named in honour of Charles Darwin, the father of evolution, the Darwin Awards commemorate those who improve our gene pool by removing themselves from it." (emphasis my own)
One of this year's nominees was a pastor from Libreville, Gabon. In August 2006 he exhorted his congregation to have faith, enough faith to literally walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Sufficiently strong faith, he insisted, would allow this. One problem with his big undertaking was the footsteps the little minister decided to follow were the watery ones left when the big J.C. hotfooted it across the Sea of Galilee. The other problem was that the cleric obviously hadn't read the April 2006 "Journal of Paleolimnology" wherein Doron Nof, a Florida State University Professor of Oceanography publishes his findings on the subject of ice formation on the Sea of Galilee, or Lake Kinneret, as it is known today.
The study of temperature records of the Mediterranean Sea surface and the use of analytical ice and statistical models lead scientists to conclude that a small section of the lake, near today's town of Tabgha - a region tied to Jesus by archaeological findings - could have dropped to -4 degrees Celsius during a cold period that occurred in the years that Jesus walked the area.
Says Nof, " "We simply explain that unique freezing processes probably happened in that region ... We leave to others the question of whether or not our research explains the biblical account."
If the pastor had perused that article before he delivered his sermon to the faithful, he might have wanted to hedge his bet on the flotation power of faith and either get one of the parishioners to test out his theory first, or just move on to another topic entirely. Of course, if he had done either, the gene pool wouldn't have had the clean-up that it did. What the non-swimmer did do was set out to walk the path of a twenty-minute ferry ride. Since the story doesn't go into detail, I have to wonder. Did some of the congregation row him out to a certain point and them watch as he stepped overboard? (If that were the case, I think they might qualify for some kind of dodo award, themselves.) Did he just start walking and keep going until the waves were up over his head? (At this point, of course, we get back to the faithful standing watching, while the air bubbles gradually stopped surfacing. Were they listening intently for notes from some heavenly chorus to bubble their way up through the waves as their pastor reappeared, dripping but smiling triumphantly?) I just can't quite imagine the scene.
Maybe it's just as good that the Journal of Paleolimnology isn't at the top of the hot bestsellers list.

A Moron, an Intellect, and Zero Waste

Eric Pan of Santa Cruz, Ca and "Mr. Cadillac" of Markham, Ontario make a perfect lead-in to the news from the Toronto Convention centre.
Mr. Cadillac was at our local Tim Horton's last weekend, doing everything he could to contribute to robbing our children of a healthy planet. He pulled up right in front of the entrance in his gas-guzzling Cadillac SRX Crossover and left it idling while he came in. After he bought his coffee, he sat in his vehicle, with the bloody thing still idling. Then he got out again, with a few items in hand. He hesitated in front of the garbage bin near the front door, but then came inside again to look at the recycling bin. Apparently deciding it would be too much work for him to look at the pictures on the bins and figure out which hole to use for disposing of his waste, he went back out the door and dumped it on top of the garbage bin. Visible among his leavings was a paper cup that could have been recycled. His SUV having remained on the whole time, he finally got in one last time and drove away. Moron.
On the other end of the intelligence scale is Mr. Pan. At his Share the Truth site, he is heading up an initiative to make copies of "An Inconvenient Truth" available, free. Telling his readers "there is nothing more urgent you can do at this moment" than watch Al Gore's wake-up call about global warming, Pan has undertaken an effort to get the "Truth" out to as many viewers as he possibly can, with a little help from his friends. He gives five suggestions as to how readers could get involved and then asks for anyone with more ideas to share them. After encountering Mr. Cadillac and Mr. Pan, the news from the Toronto Convention Centre just seemed to follow right along in sequence.
On January 8 a convention got underway here in T.O., a convention worthy of notice. Hosted at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, the gathering is the 51st annual meeting of the Professional Convention Management Association, and it began with the announcement that it would be the first ever large-scale meeting to boast a zero-waste policy.
Since the expected attendance is about 3,000 delegates, it is also expected that the gathering will generate a great deal of waste. In fact, 90,000 cans and bottles alone, not to mention cups, napkins and plates will be designated as "waste" during the conference.
To rule out the possibility of any waste being mistakenly tossed into the garbage, trash compactors have been removed from the centre, with the help of the good folks at Turtle Island Recycling. This 60,000 square foot facility is state-of-the-art, with a "passion to function as an ethical business with environmental responsibility".
The Turtle Island employees will be key in carrying out the plan to collect and recycle the waste generated during the event. Delegates are being encouraged to act like environmentally responsible adults and use the proper bins provided. Convention centre president and CEO says those involved in this initiative "will have to find a home for everything that leaves the building." To facilitate that end, organic waste will be composted and left-over food and drink will be picked up by Second Harvest, an organization that redistributes fresh left-overs to social service agencies across Toronto.
Smith raises a great point when he says he hopes others "will start saying to other buildings they go in: "Well, what about doing a zero waste event?" This one should be watched carefully, and the resultant (hoped-for) success should be publicly blazoned for any and all to see. Setting such a precedent should mean that other convention centres begin to follow suit immediately. There should be no excuse for being lax about jumping on this environmental bandwagon.
Are you ready to jump on board, too? If there is an upcoming convention that you will be attending, will you contact the hosting facility and ask them Smith's question? It wouldn't take much of your time, and only good could come of it. The environment needs everyone like you it can get to counteract the likes of Mr. Cadillac.

One in the Front Door, Another Out the Back

On January 4, the Anglican Church of Canada announced it will name 52-year-old Bishop Mark MacDonald as its first National Indigenous Bishop. He will join the Bishop Ordinary to the Canadian Forces as the only other Anglican bishop serving a territory that is set by sociological rather than geographical parameters. MacDonald's "diocese" will be the 225 indigenous Canadian communities of Anglicanism all across Canada. His appointment brings to fruition the request made by 43 native elders at a 2005 Sacred Circle for their own bishop. A non-status Indian, MacDonald has native ancestry on both his mother's and his father's side of his family.
It is hoped that his appointment will help bring healing to the former students of native residential schools, and reconciliation between them and the church that ran the schools where they were abused. MacDonald himself refers to the residential school abuse as a "gross tragedy of systemic evil" and speaks of a need for the church to treat natives in other than "a subhuman fashion".
Many eyes will be watching MacDonald's every move as he moves through his three years in the position, waiting to criticize and find fault. He'll be living in a fish bowl without a single wall behind which to hide.
However much MacDonald may have to watch his step, he is at least getting off to a better start than did Stanislaw Wielgus. This particular worthy was to have been formally installed as the archbishop of Warsaw this past Sunday. Instead, the mass at which the installation was to have taken place saw Wielgus confessing to what a bad boy he has been and resigning the post. I'm sure he was wishing hard at that point for a wall to hide behind.
It seems that ol' Stanislaw has spent time in the past hobnobbing with the pre-1989 communist-era secret police, and the sins of his past have come to light. Tsk-tsk, Stanislaw. As he read from his official letter of resignation tendered to the pope, Wielgus stood before the congregation attired in a "resplendent golden miter and robes". Is it just me, or does it seem that Wielgus has missed the point here? If he were truly contrite about abusing parishioners' trust in him, shouldn't he have appeared in sackcloth and ashes? Obviously, Wielgus is just another one of the preponderance of officials in the RC church who put themselves first before the people they are supposed to serve. He's just another one of those, like the pope, who have a little bit too much fun dressing up in "resplendent robes" and wearing funky hats.
Some of the mental midgets in the congregation apparently called out to him "Stay with us" but country President Lech Kaczynski applauded his announcement of resignation. I'm with Kaczynski on this one. The church has no need of another man without honour.

Sri Mayapur Vedic Temple and Planetarium

Once completed, this blight on the landscape will stand as the tallest Hindu temple in the world, at an expected height of 35 storeys.

"Tallest temple"? Are we talking getting into the Guinness Book of Records, or building a place of worship? Constructing profligate excesses and designating them as places of worship belies true belief in all who erect such travesties.

Look at the great teachers of wisdom the world has known. Buddha did his contemplating under a tree, out in the open of nature's simple design. He needed no intricate architecture to house his wisdom. Jesus did his contemplating in a garden and spoke his sermons from settings in nature. He needed no intricate architecture to house his wisdom. How can anyone justify this descent into poor taste they are calling a temple as a place of religious contemplation?

To be built on the banks of the river Ganga near Navadvip, the temple complex will include a planetarium, and some are already predicting it to be a great tourist draw. If it rises from the earth of India, as shown in images posted in anticipation, it will be nothing more than another example of excess flaunting itself in the midst of abject poverty. It will have nothing to do with nature or reaching out to any deity.

Yes, it may well draw tourist dollars, but it's unlikely they will be used to alleviate the general problems besetting the country. More likely is those dollars finding their way into some few pockets and enriching only a few lives. Most likely is that most of the lives enriched will already be lives of comfort played out against the backdrop of starving children labouring in sweatshops. Perhaps as these little ones make their way each day to their squalid destinations, with the tattered rags of their destroyed childhood drawn close about their emaciated frames, a walk past the glorious temple might lift their spirits for the day.

What do you think?

For Your Viewing Pleasure

If you'd like to view some real-life Bambi and Thumper pics, you've just got to follow this link to the photography of Tanja Askani.

A Little Hair of the Dog

Happy New Year to everyone!

If you were out celebrating the arrival of the new year last night, and indulged in one too many alcoholic libations, you may be wandering about this morning with a head that feels twice its normal size. If that is your state today, beware the old folk cure for hangovers that advises a little hair of the dog that bit you.
"Similia similibus curantur" goes the Latin admonition, showing that the idea of like having curative powers over like has been around since Hector was a pup, but it still is not a good idea in this instance. Although a little sip this morning might seem at first to ameliorate your problem, it will actually just exacerbate it. You'll just be adding to the overload of acetaldehyde your poor liver already has to work its way through.
There actually is no cure for a hangover, but some suggest that ingesting a few strawberries, when you can drag yourself to the kitchen, will help. Because of your body's dehydration and the work it needs to do to process the acetaldehyde resultant from your drinking, your levels of vitamin A, vitamin B, and vitamin C drop drastically, so a little fruit juice or some fresh fruit accompanied by a B-complex vitamin pill is about the best you can do to help yourself feel better.
While you wait for your body to start feeling human again, you might just want to think ahead to the next party, and plan a little self-control. Read "BYOB" as "BRING YOUR OWN B-VITAMINS", and be ready.