Tropical Weather Fay

You know a storm is not all that bad when it's not even called a Hurricane - or even a storm for that matter - but is simply referred to as 'Tropical Weather.' And what's funnier is that in some parts of the world, in this case North Carolina, they have even taken to naming their rare bursts of 'Tropical Weather.'

Behold - the awesome power of Mother Nature has taken the form of - Tropical Weather Fay.

And it has caused this rather large man some mild discomfort in the form of some wet cuffs: discomfort so great, mind you, that he has called upon the assistance of emergency rescue workers who provided him with a) a crash helmet, b) a Personal Floatation Device (Really?), and c) a human chain link to get to 'safety.' Thank God he escaped from his red Pontiac Sunfire back there in one piece. You've got to be careful with Tropical Weather.

"I just went to buy some new tires for my Sunfire," he claimed. "And then next thing I knew there was all this tropical weather around me." He added: "I think I'm going to have to buy some new pants. Or maybe just get these ones dry-cleaned. Yeah - yeah I'll probably just do that."

(Also, I love how bored the rescue worker behind the large guy looks. He's probably trained for natural disasters, and look at him: he's stuck hauling a fat guy out of twelve inches of rain.)

Photo curtesy of Courtney, bored while waiting for our Rogers Cable Guy to return from his truck. She found it on the Day in Photo's section of the Globe and Mail website: also, the Globe staffer stuck labelling the photo also went so far as to lable the middle guy as the motorist to differentiate him from the rescue workers. This made my morning!

The Unoriginality of Paul Martin Jr.

This has been bugging me a while, now, but I only just remembered it when I heard about Harper telling GG Michaelle Jean not to go to Beijing for the Paralympic Games Opening Ceremony because he may need here here to dissolve Parliament if he chooses to force an election for the Fall. He opted instead to send Ontario Lt. Gov. Michael Only, himself a quadriplegic, which makes more sense to me anyway.

This is how unoriginal Harper's predecessor, PM Paul Martin Jr., was in selecting his Governor General. On the left, the Governor General as selected by former Liberal PM Jean Chretien. On the right, the Governor General as selected by former Liberal PM Paul Martin Jr.

VS.

GG Jean is married to an uglier, dumber, and older version of John Ralston Saul. (Who has an awesome new book coming out in September! Which I'm super excited about!) Martin in his unoriginality picks a successor for Clarkson who is essentially, in most ways, her doppleganger: a woman from a minority background, the daughter of immigrants, who found her prominence in Canadian journalism circles, and married an old, white guy, just like Adrienne Clarkson did.

Except Clarkson married two old white guys - beat that, Jean!

A Is For...

ANDREW!

This was from a novelty shop in New York, NY, on a Labour Day trip last year in 2007. It weighed about 75 lbs. Stupid heavy for a giant 'A'...

But then how much would be a reasonable amount for a giant 'A' to weigh?

Obama Loses the Saddleback Faith Debate...

But the often over-looked question that remains festering in my bones is whether there should ever have been a faith debate in the United States to begin with. I have not seen anyone asking this critical question, and I find this as troubling as the fact that the debate occured at all, let alone carried any credible political clout. One would think - wrongly, apparently - that the historic separation of church and state would have rendered this antiquated notion (by North American standards, at least) pathetically anachronistic.

Not so. Appearing at the Saddleback Church for the first, albeit informal and not face-to-face Presidential Debate, moderator and man-of-the-cloth Rick Warren, himself something of a celebrity as he attempts to fill the void as "America's Pastor" left by Billy Graham, presented a series of faith-based questions to each presumptive candidate individually. The crowd hung on every word as each candidate weighed in on issues that, unfathomably, refuse to die in this world, but especially in America at large: gay marriage, abortion, and what being a Christian in this hectic, modern world means to each man.

In brief, each man was able to lay bare his personal moral compass, leaving it for America - and, to a lesser extent, the world - to decide which direction on offer they prefer. While it is up to each camp to convince America why their man 'won' a debate that, by all accounts, should not even exist, here are two reasons why Obama lost.

Firstly, he affirmed in his academic-speak too cowardly to offend that not only is he against same-sex marriage (he prefers 'Civil Union' as a more appropriate term), but that, for him, life begins at inception. For the latter response, he was summarily boo'd by an overwhelmingly evangelical crowd not so right-wing and hateful of equality and human rights they find personally distasteful as I had initially thought. So good on them for booing Obama for his backward and cowardly abortion response. And secondly, Obama lost because he should be above peddling a late-in-life religious finding for political gain. It's sad, and it's low. And to use an already flawed forum to espouse his rather un-Democratic views is laregly just confusing for Democrats: though, I suppose, an appropriately Republican venue.

But my question remains unanswered: why did this event happen in the first place in a supposedly secular nation like the United States of America? And moreover, why was this religious "debate" given the credence that it was? Jesus will not decide the next American election: human beings with real existences facing real consequences to their very real actions on Election Day and beyond will decide who next leads the free world. Not Jesus Christ.

I remain unconvinced. Why do these religious stump speaches matter?

Courtney & Margaret

My two ladies...





...and the jerk...the lovable, douchebaggy jerk...

"I Love This City" - September, 2006

I took this the day after my birthday in 2006 when we went for $3.00 breakfast at the Green Room, hung over as shit, and looking for grease.

I was surrounded by friends and roommates, some of them both of those things at once; past partners and current loves, the city and the sunshine. And the grease; you can't forget about the Green Room grease. I saw this grafitti and I wanted to remember that I do love this city. Sometimes...

This was us after breakfast...

And this is Nate in a wife-beater... Just 'cause...

MEC Presents: Tour de Greenbelt

Ready. Set. Meander! They had me hooked just with their slogan! So - who's in?

I won't be able to participate in the ride on September 20th or the 21st because it's Courtney's birthday on the 20th and we'll probably be doing something that day, but the rides the following weekend seem like fun down in Southern Ontario.

If anyone is interested just let me know - I might see about driving down there for at least one of them, but I don't know which one yet. And if anyone is interested in coming along, I would defintiely have room for a few people to come with. I might need to buy a bike rack, though, for the van.

As to the route: any thoughts? There is the 65km point-to-point Burlington to St. Catherine's trail on Saturday, September 27th and the 30 km looped route around Niagara-on-the-Lake on Sunday, September 28th. Registration for each day is $30 and includes food and activities and shuttles and drinks, and while fundraising is completely unnecessary, any money you choose to raise is 100% donated to local biking groups to help keep biking trails in good repair. So I can get behind that...

Check out the full details here at the Tour de Greenbelt website. This seems like an amazing idea, and leave it to MEC to organize the whole thing.

Overheard In The Building Above My Work

The Scene: two young women, mid-twenties, dressed in overly-classy business casual wear, walking down the hallway from their building towards the carpark. They were not unattractive, but had probably spent two-thirds of their day working on attaining their respective looks.

As I pass them by I hear:

Girl #1: I don't know. I don't know if this is too slutty or not. (Referring to her own attire.)

Girl #2: No, it's totally not. The rule for work attire is that if you're going to show cleavage, you can't wear a short skirt, like what I'm wearing. And if you're going to wear a short skirt, then you probably shouldn't show too much boob. Then it would be too slutty. So no - you're fine.

Girl #1: Oh, ok - if that's the rule. (Emphasis added.)

Ladies - is that the rule? And if your friend makes it up and says it's the rule, are you obligated to believe them? To be honest, I don't think Girl #1 needed all that jazz about rules, though I'm sure it made her feel better - she just wanted to hear she wasn't dressed like a slut. Which she wasn't, but I wasn't going to wade into that.

Insert creepy stranger -

Creepy Stranger #1: If I may? I wouldn't worry. I think you've got a classy leg-to-cleavage ratio happening. Not too much boob for the amount of leg you're showing off. It's working for you, so I'd go with it.

Muskoka Cottages: For The Stupidly Wealthy Among Us

The Economist this week ran a story about the future of cottage country in Canada when the average cottage in Muskoka has now risen to over $8 million. That's six zero's at the end of that eight!

What the article doesn't indicate is that the Muskoka's have always been the cottage country for the wealthy only - at least in my memory - and that this is not the norm across the country. Semantics, maybe, but an important distinction lest anyone reading it think that cottages are that inaccessible right across the board. It does refer largely to cottage country just beyond the cities edge: and not the far North of places like Ontario and British Columbia.

The funniest - and scariest part - of the article comes from a comment in the online article posted by a self-identified American who suggests that if Canada is running out of prime lakefront real estate, the solution is to use our hoards of "hydrocarbon money" and, quite simply, build more lakes artificially. And he refers to, get this, China's ability to create artificial lakes and mountains in the lead-up to the Beijing Games as an example of how this can work.

Huh...

Grey Cup 2008 - Countdown to Montreal

T-minus 100 days, or, if you will, 100 big sleeps left till the Crey Cup. The suspense is killing me...

Yes, November 23rd is the Big Day. We've bought our tickets - Pete will be physically attending the game with me while our respective partners, Karen and Courtney, will spend the $188 per ticket that Pete and I spent on the game on shopping on Rue St. Catherines. So everybody walks away happy. I've already notified my Grad School supervisor of the time I will be taking off as well - beyond the game, there is the weekend, from November 20th to November 24th, for pre-game festivities.

Courtney is concerned I will buy blue overalls from Mark's Work Warehouse and sew a bunch of CFL gitch all over it. And maybe even buy myself a hard hat - I dont know why, but it's the thing to do in the CFL it seems. Perhaps - but I will never paint my face, so I think we're about even.

Why am I writing about this now? Firstly, the Argonauts are playing Montreal tonight and I was reminded of it. And secondly, it's a slow Friday at work, and I had time to create the following drawing using Microsoft Paint and the awesome power of Microsoft 2000 - Millenium Edition.

Photo a Day for 6,797 Days

After I finished the Democracy Now! podcast for today, and after I had worked my way through the Audio Economist for the week, I was getting desperate at work for something to listen to keep my mind occupied with something - anything! - while I drone away. Searching through the CBC Podcasting website, I began rummaging through old episodes of Spark, CBC Radio's technology podcast. I picked one at random...

Although I listen primarily because of Nora Young's uncannily soothing voice - and because I could have sworn at a conference in 2007 we both attended that she was giving me the bedroom eyes from across the room despite the presence of a woman I took to be her partner - this podcast featured a story on a man who discovered a website whereby a man was digitizing 6,597 photo's that his deceased friend had taken in this life between 1979 and 1997 when he died. A photo a day, every day, for eighteen years. The photo listed above is widely known as the one which struck a chord with a majority of viewers: it is the photo of the day for October 5th, 1997, and it features an engagement ring and his wife of a month before he died, lying in the background, blurred.

The complete list of photo's can be found here.

The story is remarkable, and incredibly sad at the same time. It's worth a listen - and for more reason's than Nora Young's voice. I feel like I should post a missed connection about that on Craig'sList or something:

You: a widely known CBC Radio host with a voice I could swim in mediating a session at the Couchiching Summer Conference in 2007, standing casually cool with your partner at the post-session reception.

Me: a University of Toronto student known for asking asshole's tough questions at these conferences and ducking out before the old people hoard the microphone at question period, too shy to take your bedroom eyes up on their offer.

I thought our eyes met and something electric passed between us. Was I right?

Wait a Minute...The Chinese Cheated?

For Olympic Gold? Ok - silver? Did they stoop so low as to cheat for shameful Olympic bronze? Nope - they went so far in their quest for Olympic Glory and the opportunity to present a modern, polished China that they fudged the Opening Ceremonies. Dont believe such a dastardly allegation could be true?

BBC broke the story, so it's got to be true. You can see the whole article here.

Apparently, the little girl who was "signing" Ode to the Motherland, was faking the whole time. Not surprising - I said at least twice as I watched this eerily smiling little girl that she was clearly faking it, but I thought at least it was her voice on tape. But no - they took another, uglier girl who had a better voice (pictured right) and used her voice and the pretty girl's face (pictured left). Their rationale was that it was "in the best interests of the country."

VS.

They also fudged some of the fireworks as well. The 29 giant steps from Tiananmen Square - which were awesome, by the way - were done the night before to ensure perfection and a taped version was presented as happening live at the Opening Ceremonies.

The following interpretive poem on the subject, entitled The Rape and Degradation of Ancient Custom: How to Turn a Blind Eye Through Sport, was submitted by my brother-in-law, Dave. I thank him for bringing this to my attention.

The 'footage' display produced before the big day?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
That little girl wasn't singing you say?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
The sky is grey from smoke not smog?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
You have a list of human rights violations seven miles long?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
The judges they scored under much duress?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
How much must we find out before you confess?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!

To win over the West is easy you see,
knowledge isn't power, it's money and greed.

Should Vancouver 2010 be worried about topping the Chinese? Hardly - we have two years to tape it, perfect it, add in our CG effects and images, and when they say we faked it - hell, it was in the best interests of the country.

Of Mosquito's and Home Foreclosures

I was listening to the Audio Economist today at work and heard a story about the strangest connection.

With the mortgage crisis in America, one of the hardest hit area's is some of the richer parts of California, including large parts of Orange County. With so many Southern California homes having pools, once the former owners forclose on the mortgage and abandon the property, their pools are also left derelict. And ever since West Nile Virus arrived on the West Coast of America in 2003, shallow, slow-moving pools have been the mosquitos carrying the virus' breeding ground of choice. In the past year, the number of deaths atrributed to West Nile in Southern California has risen sharply to 76 from only a handful: the number of avian deaths also continues to rise at a much higher rate than human deaths.

This has gotten to be a large enough issue that the California legislature has declared it the responsibility of the banks that seize derelict properties to tend to the pools while the property is being assessed for resale, specifically to fight the breeding of mosquitos which may be carrying the virus.

At least SoCal bank tellers can add another job to their C.V.: pool boys...

The full print article can be accessed here.

Did John Graves Simcoe Have A Cottage?

Well - another August Long Weekend has come and gone (Simcoe Day, to be exact), and we've only got one left before the Fall becomes official, and tired minds looking to escape the tedium of their paper-pushing summer jobs can actually look forward to going back to school. Not content with being Reever BA, I'm pushing for the upgraded model. By this time next year, I could almost be Reever MA.

But this isn't about the Fall - not yet. This is about cottages, and the verb version of cottage - to go "cottaging." Anyone who has grown up in Southern Ontario, the land that John Graves Simcoe (pictured) took definitively from both the French and Aboriginals before them, will be familiar with the idea of the cottage, if not necessarily the expression "to go cottaging." My Simcoe Day question was whether the concept, if not the practice of cottaging, was a uniquely Canadian experience, if only to a certain degree.

To find out how things are done in other parts of the world, I contacted some far-flung friends.

My friend Alex, living in Munich, Germany, told me that her only experience with cottaging came, funnily enough, when she was briefly living outside of Toronto a number of years ago. In Germany, the equivalent would be camping, if not - more likely - hopping on a cheap RyanAir or AirBerlin flight to the South of France or Italy. Since people are only likely to own one home, the odds of owning a second home - i.e. a cottage - are pretty slim, and nowhere near cheaper than taking two or three week vacations to close-by European locations. I suppose if I was an hour-long flight from the French Riviera I might not care so much about my cottage either, unless it too was in the French Riviera!

Tennille, living in Queensland, Australia, also pointed to camping as the closest equivalent. While I think the Aussie's take camping much more seriously than the Germans, Tennille mentions that the odds of owning a cottage, as supposed to a tent and a car, are slim. Again - when you are only a few hours away from New Zealand, Fiji, and the Pacific Rim (to name a few exotic locales), having a three bedroom cottage on a lake is not necessarily so grand, even if you've got a canoe.

So what did I learn this Simcoe Day? Cottaging make sense for Southern Ontarians, and in this sense, I feel like it might be more unique to the Golden Horseshoe, and Canada in general, than other places in the world. It presents an opportunity for escape - along with thousands of other Torontonian's and GTA'ers seeking the same refuge from city or suburban life - that simply cannot be achieved by picnicking at the Lakeshore, though that's plenty nice too. My thought is that perhaps if we lived within three hours of all of Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Pacific Rim instead of being three hours away from Kingston, Buffalo, and Penatanguishine, we might not think cottages are such hot shit after all!

*Two Quick Facts About Simcoe: his father was a member of the Royal Navy who sailed under famous explorer James Cook and fought at the Battle of Louisbourg that softened up New France for British taking. Simcoe's daughter, Katherine, died in infancy here in Toronto and is buried in a cemetery park near Bathurst and Portland, south of King Street. *

Overheard at the IGA in Coboconk, ON

16 Year Old Local IGA Staff Member: I'm sorry, ma'am, but your debit card isn't working. Would you like me to try again, or do you have a credit card you could use...or cash?

Snooty, Middle-Aged Torontonian Woman From Rosedale or Forrest Hill: What? My debit card has worked in London, it has worked in Paris, Amsterdam, and it has worked in Rome. I dont see any reason why it shouldn't work here.

16 Year Old Local IGA Staff Member: *stares blankly...says nothing...tries again*

This is the kind of stuff that makes me hate wealth - and, sometimes, living in Toronto.

Ralph Klein Guest Hosts on CBC's 'The House'

Quote of the Week:

"The media generally does not give credit to the oil companies"

- Ralph Klein, Saturday August 2nd, CBC's The House

Regarding Environmental efforts to clean up the Alberta Tar Sands

Oh, boy - the winds of change are sweeping through the CBC's national HQ in Ottawa if they would be so desperate as to bring on former Alberta Premier Ralph Klein to guest host instead of regular The House host Kathleen Petty, no doubt away on summer holidays. Didn't anyone tell them that Trudeau's ghost was available? Or what about Brain Mulroney? Where's that douchebag at these days?

Speaking of old politicians - August 2nd's Dinosaur edition of The House would not have been complete without special guest appearance by not only former Ontario Premier Mike Harris - who encouraged Klein to play hookey from the CBC and acquiesced to his blaming it on Harris since "everyone blames everything on me, anyway" - but also by former Liberal Prime Minister Jean Chretien.

In between Klein's railing against everything from health care in Canada to the environment, the economy to modern journalism, and managing to mention his success despite "everyone being against him," Klein and Chretien's interview comes across as a lively encounter between two interesting, through ideologically opposed old men. They laugh, they spar: they tell embarrassing old stories of fighting over Kyoto in Moscow in the mid-1990's. Hearing Klein talk about the skewed logic behind climate change is topped only by Chretien's continuing subtle digs against Paul Martin - this time for doing nothing to help fulfill Chretien's promise in signing onto Kyoto once he became Prime Minister.

What this interview lacked most was a discussion about both of their tendencies to become physically violent with those around them when frustrated. Think way back to Chretien's irate throttling of a pushy journalist on the Hill; and think back only a few years to Klein's pushing a young, female Page in Parliament across the floor towards the opposition, tripping her up and nearly knocking her over. Both were later forced to apologize. Both were caught on camera.

The most interesting item to emerge from their banter? The confession from Klein that had Jean Chretien been nominated Liberal Party Leader after Trudeau's second - and final - resignation from politics in 1984 instead of John Turner, that Klein would have run for Chretien - as a Liberal! - in Calgary in the 1984 federal election. Instead he goes on to rank in the top 5 most Conservative politicians this country has ever produced.

He would make Stephen Harper proud...

After the Move...

I'd like to say its done and done for moving between August 1st and 2nd, but this was largely just Phases I and II complete. I'd say about 85% of our stuff is in the new place, and so only the loose ends of packing up small stuff at the old house and cleaning it out, and then the equally arduous process of unpacking and putting things in order remains. 

But we already have our floor-to-ceiling wall of books up and running, which was both practical and fanciful - it got about 20 boxes out of the way, but it also allows Court to feel as if she were in Manhattan, or at least the classy part of Brooklyn. We politely declined Karen's offer to stand outside our window and shout something about walking, and how she was doing it. Here. 

Thanks to Nate, Pete, and Karen for all your help today in packing and moving. While this was Nate hitting me back for helping him move at least four times already - Ajax to Montrose; Montrose to Ajax; Ajax to Beverley; Beverley to Borden - Pete and Karen upped the friendship ante and insured that when they move out of their current place at some point, if I am on the continent and still have the use of my limbs, that I'm legally bound to help them. Well played, neighbours. I'll see you in Hell...

And the largest benefit so far to having a new place with Court? Blogging on an unlocked wireless network located somewhere in our neighbourhood at midnight in my underpants. Aaahhh...

Consumption as Commemoration

Cannibalism is one thing: at the very least, there is protein to be gained from eating your fellow human beings should your situation be dire enough, or your fetish strong enough. While still kinda gross, I can get behind cannibalism in as much as the bare bones idea behind it makes enough sense to me - in a gross way.

Let's switch gears...

I was spending a lovely Spring trip in Paris this past March with Courtney when she lets fly that when her mother and father pass away, the thought had crossed her mind that a sensible thing to do with their bodies, after cremation, was to consume them in a beverage as a form of commemoration. And if that wasn't - to me - disgusting enough, she then suggested that if I should die tomorrow, and she was looking for a way to mourn me, it would not be unthinkable for her to suggest to my parents that she be allowed to consume part of my ashes as well.

Now let's hold up for a second...

Firstly, I hope to be buried so that what's left of me can help enrich the soil around me, at least making the grass atop my grave lush and healthy and green for all the people who come to visit! So I have no interest in cremation. But secondly, and far more importantly, is the fact that I find the practice of consuming your relatives ashes rather comically disgusting. To be fair, Courtney's reasoning is similar to any defense of this I hear: that it's a supreme act of commemoration, one final chance to be close to the people you have lost through keeping them with you forever...Until you urinate...

Our friends weighed in on the debate. Julie e-mailed me a link to information about the Uape Indians of the Amazon who mix their dead relatives ashes with alcohol. This lead to a Sex and the City-type debate over the question: if your ashes were mixed into a cocktail for your friends to consume after you died, what cocktail would you be? And this same topic was the subject of a 2006 Japanese film entitled 12 Days, in which the lead, after having lost her partner, consumes her ashes in twelve smoothies over twelve days to mourn her passing. So the idea is not unprecedented, just a little creepy to me. Am I alone on this one? Is this just wierd to me?

And while I won't be drawing up my Final Will and Testament just yet, if I do, I might look into adding a clause or two against having my ashes consumed:

"Under no circumstances shall Courtney Jane Purdy Walker, or any other human being, cremate me for the pusposes of consuming my ashes in any beverage, alcoholic or otherwise."