Mercer...mad?

This is a story that caught my eye today. Rick Mercer...is mad. I think that it is probably pretty difficult to make a comedian mad, but that's what one particular writer has done - and a fellow Newfoundlander, no less. Apparently she is upset that her cohorts from the Rock are not showing dissent with respect to Canada's mission in Afghanistan. This comes from the Newfoundland newspaper "The Independent." Read for yourself. I couldn't find the article of which he speaks; perhaps it has been deleted?? Oh, and if you want to see what she is upset about, read Rick Mercer's blog here.

By Courtesy (St. John's)
The Independent
Friday, January 26, 2007

By Rick Mercer

For The Independent



Poor Noreen Golfman. She wrote in her Jan. 12 column (Blowing in the Wind … ) that her holidays were ruined by what she felt were incessant reports about Canadian men and women serving in Afghanistan. So upset was Noreen that, armed with her legendary pen, sharpened from years in the trenches at Memorial University’s women’s studies department, she went on the attack. I know I should just ignore the good professor and write her off as another bitter baby boom academic pining for what she fondly calls “the protest songs of yesteryear,” but I can’t help myself. A response is exactly what she wants; and so I include it here. After all, Newfoundlanders have seen this before: Noreen Golfman, sadly, is Margaret Wente without the wit.



Dear Noreen,

I am so sorry to hear about the interruption to your holiday cheer. You say in your column that it all started when the CBC ran a story on some “poor sod” who got his legs blown off in Afghanistan.

The “poor sod” in question, Noreen, has a name and it is Cpl. Paul Franklin. He is a medic in the Forces and has been a buddy of mine for years. I had dinner with him last week in Edmonton, in fact. I will be sure to pass on to him that his lack of legs caused you some personal discomfort this Christmas.

Paul is a pretty amazing guy. You would like him I think. When I met him years ago he had two good legs and a brutally funny sense of humour. He was so funny that I was pretty sure he was a Newfoundlander. You probably know the type (or maybe you don’t) — salt of the earth, always smiling, and like so many health-care professionals, seemingly obsessed with helping others in need.

These days he spends his time training other health-care workers and learning how to walk again. That’s a pretty exhausting task for Paul … heading into rehabilitation he knew very well his chances of walking again were next to none, considering he’s a double amputee, missing both legs above the knee.

At the risk of ruining your day Noreen, I’m proud to report that for the last few months he has managed to walk his son to school almost every morning and it’s almost a kilometre from his house. Next month Paul hopes to travel to Washington where he claims he will learn how to run on something he calls “bionic flipper cheetah feet.” The legs may be gone but the sense of humour is still very much intact.

Forgive me Noreen for using Paul’s name so much, but seeing as you didn’t catch it when CBC ran the profile on his recovery I thought it might be nice if you perhaps bothered to remember it from here on in. This way, when you are pontificating about him at a dinner party, you no longer have to refer to him simply as the “poor sod,” but you can actually refer to him as Paul Franklin. You may prefer “poor sod” of course; it’s all a matter of how you look at things. You see a “poor sod” that ruined your Christmas and I see a truly inspiring guy. That’s why I am thrilled that the CBC saw fit to run a story on Paul and his wife Audra. I would go so far as to suggest that many people would find their story, their marriage and their charitable endeavours inspiring. Just as I am sure that many readers of The Independent are inspired by your suggestion that Paul’s story has no place on the public broadcaster.

Further on in your column you ask why more people aren’t questioning Canada’s role in Afghanistan. I understand this frustration. It’s a good question. Why should Canada honour its United Nations-sanctioned NATO commitments? Let’s have the discussion. I would welcome debate on the idea that Canada should simply ignore its international obligations and pull out of Afghanistan. By all means ask the questions Noreen, but surely such debates can occur without begrudging the families of injured soldiers too much airtime at Christmas?

Personally, I would have thought that as a professor of women’s studies you would be somewhat supportive of the notion of a NATO presence in Afghanistan. After all, it is the NATO force that is keeping the Taliban from power. In case you missed it Noreen, the Taliban was a regime that systematically de-peopled women to the point where they had no human rights whatsoever. This was a country where until very recently it was illegal for a child to fly a kite or for a little girl to receive any education.

To put it in terms you might understand Noreen, rest assured the Taliban would frown on your attending this year’s opening night gala of the St. John’s International Women’s Film Festival. In fact, as a woman, a professor, a writer and (one supposes) an advocate of the concept that women are people, they would probably want to kill you three or four times over. Thankfully that notion is moot in our cozy part of the world but were it ever come to pass I would suggest that you would be grateful if a “poor sod” like Paul Franklin happened along to risk his life to protect yours.

And then of course you seem to be somehow personally indignant that I would visit troops in Afghanistan over Christmas. You ask the question “When did the worm turn?” Well I hate to break it to you, but in my case this worm has been doing this for a long time now. It’s been a decade since I visited Canadian peacekeeping operations in Bosnia and this Christmas marked my third trip to Afghanistan. Why do I do it? Well I am not a soldier — that much is perfectly clear. I don’t have the discipline or the skills. But I am an entertainer and entertainers entertain. And occasionally, like most Canadians, I get to volunteer my professional time to causes that I find personally satisfying.

As a Newfoundlander this is very personal to me. On every one of these trips I meet Newfoundlanders who serve proudly in the Canadian Forces. Every day they do the hard work that we as a nation ask of them. They do this without complaint and they do it knowing that at every turn there are people like you, Noreen, suggesting that what they do is somehow undignified or misguided.

I am also curious Noreen why you refer to the head of the Canadian Forces, General Rick Hillier, as “Rick ‘MUN graduate’ Hillier.” I would suggest that if you wish to criticize General Hillier’s record of leadership or service to his country you should feel free. He is a big boy. However, when you dismiss him as “Rick ‘MUN Graduate’ Hillier” the message is loud and clear. Are you suggesting that because General Hillier received an education at Memorial he is somehow unqualified for high command? We are used to seeing this type of tactic in certain national papers — not The Independent.

You end by saying you personally cannot envision that peace can ever be paved with military offensives. May I suggest to you that in many instances in history peace has been achieved exactly that way.

The gates of Auschwitz were not opened with peace talks. Holland was not liberated by peacekeepers and fascism was not defeated with a deft pen. Time and time again men and women in uniform have laid down their lives in just causes and in an effort to free others from oppression.

It is unfortunate, Noreen, that in such instances people like yourself may have your sensitivities offended, especially during the holiday season, but perhaps that is a small price to pay. Best wishes for the remainder of 2007; may it be a year of peace and prosperity.

The ol' Look-back

While I don't really like making resolutions, I figure that a few weeks into the new year is a good time to look back and see what has happened in the last twelve months. You know, see if I am getting closer to any goals, developing myself, becoming a better person...or just getting older. So here, in no particular order, are some important things that happened in my life in 2006.

1) I started eating in a new way. With the Paleo Diet, I get more vitamins and minerals, more protein, less sodium and sugar, and I keep my body out of the constant metabolic acidosis that afflicts the entire grain-fed world. When I follow it strictly, I sleep better and need less sleep. I don't get sick. I don't feel tired after meals or in the mid-afternoon. There are so many benefits, and it makes so much sense to me now, that I look back at what I ate before (and what the government says to eat), and can barely believe it. Some people think that diets have to allow them to eat whatever foods they want. Well, I disagree. Some people like smoking weed all day, but that doesn't make it good for them. Pizza and beer on Fridays; that is generally the only reminder of my old way of eating that I allow.

2) I didn't get dumped. Hurray!

3) I (finally) started my next career course, my basic flying course in Moose Jaw. That entailed, of course, a move to Saskatchewan. Moose Jaw is not so bad, I am loving the flying, and I am doing well enough so far. Flight test number 2 (out of 5) is scheduled for tomorrow, we'll see if I love it in 24 hours. And - the best part of being in Moose Jaw - I no longer live in Winnipeg.

4) I stopped believing in god. It has been over 10 years at least since I last thought that there was some son of god who walked around on earth a couple thousand years ago, but I still wanted to believe that there was some sort of being that created the universe and set it in motion; or even that there was something that could intervene. I don't think so anymore. This conclusion was certainly not arrived at out of apathy - more like constantly thinking about it for years. So this is where I am at now.

5) I decided to attempt to earn the Canadian Forces Aerobic Excellence Award. I stopped after 644km in August, about three weeks after getting to Moose Jaw and being totally overwhelmed by the workload at the beginning of course. I needed 2000 in 2 years. Project status - abandoned. However, I started playing hockey again and it is radical. I am trying out for the base team this month.

6) I had one of the best summers ever. Seriously, it was awesome.

7) I passed my french language test, with a grade that means I will never have to take the test again in my career. Then I met some guys from Québec and realized I could barely speak french at all. Project status- continuing for the remainder of my life.

8) The first victim (Kyle) got married. The next (Joel) signed his warrant. And now it has just turned into an avalanche of seemingly unstoppable power.

Seems like a good year overall. Hopefully 2007 will be as good.

On getting old

We're all doing it. We're all getting older, one day at a time. Sometimes, though, you just feel its crushing weight a little more than usual.

I have now spent more than 26 years on earth. But the definition of a toddler, I am really old. For a teenager, I'm old. For someone in their 30s, I am still looking ahead. For someone in their 50s, I am just getting started.

For me, it feels like I am getting old and haven't even really started yet. Seriously, I am not even a productive member of society. I have been "in training" to make my contribution for MY WHOLE LIFE. I probably won't even start "work" until I am almost 28. It doesn't seem very efficient for society to be training me for half of my working life. I probably won't be working past 55, so I will really only be contributing to society (as opposed to being more parasitic, like now) for about 27 years. Can you really give back all you've been given in those short years? And as for the experience of it all, everyone's parents were right when they said that the time just goes by faster and faster.

From time to time, I think, "If only this course were over," or, "when I finally get posted, that will be it," or any of a variety of scenarios. But then I realize that this is the same thing I thought before. "Once I get to Moose Jaw," or "Once I get out of university."

Wisdom, and perhaps some solace, may be found in this:

For a long time it seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. -Fr. Alfred D'Souza

New Year's Resolutions

I have self-discipline.
I have self-control.
I don't have a scale at home, and just weighed myself for the first time in nearly three weeks.

Maybe I need to work on the self-control and self-discipline when it comes to exercise and the consumption of delicious baking over the Christmas holidays.

I'm not a big fan of New Year's resolutions, however, and I certainly am not going to make any resolution regarding my weight. In fact, I generally loathe New Year's resolutions, since their major result is a gym clogged with well-meaning and totally unmotivated people who can't find the inspiration to work out at any other time of the year. "This year I will do it, for sure!" Uh-huh. And I'm sure next year will be the year too.

My first test of whether my conditioning has suffered will be tonight's hockey game. Playing organized hockey was one of my promises to myself last year (I guess you could call it a "resolution," and I even made it on this blog somewhere), and it has certainly been tons of fun. Why do so many people have so much trouble staying active?

Speaking of being active, I got something for Christmas designed to help me avoid that. Yep, I got books. Tons of books. Unless you count aerodynamics manuals, instrument flying regulations, and the DaVinci Code as literature, I didn't do a lot of reading last year. Now, I have all sorts of things to read, namely:
Why Darwin Matters;
Beyond Band of Brothers;
Guns, Germs, and Steel;
Flags of Our Fathers; and
A Taste of Temptation,
among others. I'm sure my weight will just take care of itself. Forget the gym, it's too busy; I'm going to go read!

We all know who The Man is

I know it. You know it. The creepy guy following you around the grocery store eating from his open bag of dog food knows it. Your mom...she knows it too. She knows who The Man is. He is the definition of cool. So cool, that he has to break down his introduction into two distinct statements.

His name is Bond. James Bond.

I mean, really, all "double-oh's" are cool. But do they make movies about 001? Nope, he was just the test model. 005? Nope. Not yet sophisticated enough. 009? Not him either. Political correctness took over and M was forced to hire a gay guy. That's cool and all, but when you won't kill a guy because "he's just too dreamy," it's just not in the same class as 007. Nobody crosses 007. Not even Chuck Norris crosses 007 and lives. That's right, I said it.

Last week, I was sitting in the barber's chair when I was asked, "Do you want to keep the sideburns?" And I thought, "James Bond doesn't have sideburns, so I don't need sideburns." THAT is how cool he is. And that is not even a made-up story. Moral of the story - I will henceforth dedicate my life (or at least a small portion of my free time) to becoming more and more like 007.

So now that we have all agree that Bond is The Man, we will have to break down in what ways I can be more like Him. Spoiler Alert - read no more if you have not seen Casino Royale. And anyway, if you haven't seen it, you are no longer welcome to read my blog.

Part I - The Car

What He Has - James Bond ALWAYS has a cool car. There was a moment in the latest movie when I thought he was going to settle for a "decent" car. But then Q (rest his soul) came through from the afterlife and a wicked radical cool 2006 Aston Martin DBS showed up. Seriously. Look at it. That is a hot car. And you can go back through any Bond film to see his other sweet rides. He doesn't take the stock model, either. Can YOUR car flip upside down, then right itself? Intentionally?

What I Have - 1996 GMC Sonoma. Regular cab. 2.2L. 120hp. A "Syclone" decal on the side, without the Syclone engine. Ok, there is a reason that this is first on my list of ways to be like Bond - because my current situation is so far from the ideal. The only way I can improve the situation anytime soon is by:
a) winning the lottery so I can buy an Aston Martin;
b) winning an Aston Martin; or, less desirable,
c) accessorizing the Sonoma extensively.
I have already begun work on option (c). With the latest in cool, I now have an in-dash CD player, rubber floor mats, a convenient matching canopy, and even high-quality mudflaps behind all four tires to prevent paint chipping. I am torn between Stinger missles behind the headlights or an AED in the glovebox for my next upgrade. I guess it depends on the threat.

Part II - The Poker Skills

What He Has - Patience. Knowledge of the game. Cool under pressure. The ability to read other players. The means to acquire impressive sums of money to play in games of the highest stakes - and from the CIA, no less. Not that the CIA is known for being cheap or only financing worthy causes, but I have never personally been approved for a CIA loan.

What I Have - I have a friend with a sweet set of poker chips that he won in a contest. He has a book on how to play poker, too. Maybe my journey to be like Bond will have to start with a gander at that book. While 007 is calculating what to have in his martini and which broad to take home after winning his hand, I will still be counting how many cards are on the table. 7 cards? But I thought there were only 5? What are these two cards you gave me over here? I just lost HOW MUCH money???




Part III - The Fitness

What He Has - I think the picture says it all. If I said I am jealous, would that make me gay? But really, how does the guy find the time to hit the gym? Whatever he does, it is working. Not because he is super-hot, but because he is able to leap from building to building without breaking his knees, withstand explosions simply by turning his back to them, run forever, and put up with a heavy rope to the...well, you know. That is some disciplined training.

What I Have - I am required, due to my physically rigorous employment, to go to the gym 8 times per month. So that is about how often I go. I don't know if you have been to the gym lately, but you don't really get to look like 007 by hitting the gym twice a week. Maybe if you pump steroids and stay at the gym for 6 hours for those two sessions, but that's about it. In any case, I don't think my body could put up with hanging from cranes and jumping from great heights and swallowing poison. Sometimes I get sore when I have to walk over the snowbanks to get to the gym. Those workouts are pretty much a write-off.

Part IV - The Job Skills

What He Has - There is only one main blanket term for what 007 does for a job, and that is "kills bad guys." But there are so many variations, that each one could have its own category. He can kill bad guys by shooting them. He can kill bad guys by throwing them around in front of himself so their buddies shoot them. He can kill bad guys by shooting the highly explosive high-pressure bottle located conveniently next them in situations when he is desperately outnumbered. He can impale them, dropkick them, electrocute them, drown them, drop them off tall buildings, push them through some variety of large spinning blades, or do the classic neck-snapping with his bare hands. That doesn't even touch on his crazy secret spy skills, explosive skills, acrobatic skills, driving skills, or seduction skills.

What I Have - Nothing. Nothing at all. I am still in training, and I am being taught by a girl even younger than me. And it is taking me this long just to learn to fly a plane. Bond already knows how to fly a plane, and he had the time to learn to do all this killing and spy stuff along the way. I don't think I will ever match him in this category, it's just not in the cards. I can't even juggle. I've tried.

Part V - The Style

What He Has - For a guy whose job demands that he be crawling through dirt and mud, hiding behind doors, and generally being sneaky, he sure does have some snazzy clothes, doesn't he? This guy has no problem fitting in at a summer resort, with his lightweight shirt and slacks, nor at a cocktail party, with his classic dinner jacket and bowtie. As for his drink, he is no slouch there either. I think it is Bond who made the martini moreso than the martini that made Bond. There is just something about a shaken martini that makes shiver inside.

What I Have - The uniform I wear everyday more closely resembles a potato sack than anything "stylish." It is bland green, shapeless, and seeing as it is one piece, quite revealing if I have to reach above my head for anything. My other clothing includes such a fine selection as homemade t-shirts from ski trips in the late 90's, jeans that were cool in grade school, and shoes that aren't even stylish enough to need polish. I didn't get my first suit until I was 24, and for every job interview I can remember I needed to borrow a shirt. And a tie. Pants. Shoes. Belt. Black socks. It's embarrassing, but true. As for a stylish drink, I stick to beer. I don't know if 007 would approve, but at least my current selections are a big step up over the Black Ice that used to fill my fridge.

Part VI - The Women. Hot ones. Everywhere.

What He Has - Like I said - hot women. He is surrounded by them. So much so, that he can easily order her champagne from room service and go off chasing after her evil husband before even taking advantage of her, knowing perfectly well that another woman will be entering in the next scene. I could say "the hot chick from Dr. No" and "the hot chick from Octopussy" and "the hot chick from..." but then I would just have to list off every Bond movie ever made. When you have all those things I talked about before (cars, skills, muscles etc.), you tend to find the women more easily. When you're Bond...it's like flies to honey.

What I Have - Oh man. I almost couldn't fill this part in, it brings me close to tears. If you can imagine whatever the opposite of being surrounded by hot chicks is, that's what I am. In addition to the fact that at least 90% of my coworkers are male, the overwhelming majority of that other 10% don't fill one of the two requirements to be a hot chick (that is, "hot" and "chick"). If I go into the thriving metropolis of Moose Jaw, I find retired farmers, and the odd blue-collar worker. Maybe there is the odd female about, but we're not allowed in the bars so I will certainly never be surrounded by them like 007. (BIG SPOILER) If there is one thing that can give me hope, it is that even Bond found just one woman with whom he hoped to spend the rest of his life.

But then, she screwed him out of millions of dollars and unwittingly lured him into a trap that killed her and nearly killed him, so now he is back to the business of knocking off bad dudes and meeting a new woman everyday. That's more like the Bond I know.

You, the racist

This article is from Michael Shermer, editor or Skeptic magazine and website. This dude makes lots of sense, you should check out the website. This editorial is about Michael Richards' racist tirade a few weeks ago. I saw it on YouTube, it was pretty bad. Check out the link in the story for some interesting tests on whether or not you are a closet racist. Apparently, I favour young people slightly over old, but I have no preference between George Bush and Thomas Jefferson...and yes, I will write a real blog again sometime soon. I'VE BEEN BUSY, OK?

Kramer’s Conundrum
What the Michael Richards Event Really Means

an opinion editorial by Michael Shermer

After a paroxysm of racial viciousness at the Laugh Factory Friday night, November 17, 2006, Michael Richards, the 57-year old comedian who played Kramer on Seinfeld, explained to David Letterman and his Late Night audience the following Monday, after a barrage of negative publicity: “I’m not a racist. That’s what’s so insane about this.”

Michael’s shattered demeanor and heartfelt repentance leaves us with what I shall call Kramer’s Conundrum: how can someone who spews racial epithets genuinely believe he is not a racist? The answer is to be found in the difference between our conscious and unconscious attitudes, and our public and private thoughts.

Consciously and publicly, Michael Richards is probably not a racist. Unconsciously and privately, however, he is. So am I. So are you.

Consciously and publicly, most of us are colorblind. And most of us, most of the time, under most conditions, believe and act on that cultural requisite. You’d have to be insane to publicly utter racist remarks in today’s society … or temporarily insane, which both science and the law recognize as being sometimes triggered by anger. And alcohol — recall Mel Gibson’s drunken eruption about Jews, or the college Frat boys slurring alcohol-induced insanities about blacks and slavery in Sacha Baron Cohen’s film Borat.

The insidiousness of racism is due to the fact that it arises out of the deep recesses of our unconscious. We may be utterly unaware of it, yet it lurks there ready to erupt under certain circumstances. How can we know this? Even without anger and alcohol, Harvard scientists have found a method in an instrument called the Implicit Association Test (IAT), which asks subjects to pair words and concepts. The more closely associated the words and concepts are, the quicker the response to them will be in the key-pressing sorting task (try it yourself at https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/).

The race test firsts asks you to sort black and white faces into one of two categories: European American and African American. Easy. Next you are asked to sort a list of words (Joy, Terrible, Love, Agony, Peace, Horrible, Wonderful, Nasty, Pleasure, Evil, Glorious, Awful, Laughter, Failure, Happy, Hurt) into one of two categories: Good and Bad. No problem.

The next task is a little more complicated. The words and black and white faces appear on the screen one at a time, and you sort them into one of these categories: African American/Good or European American/Bad. Again you match the words with the concepts of good or bad, and faces with national origin. So the word “joy” would go into the first category and a white face would go into the second category. This sorting goes noticeably slower, but you might expect that since the combined categories are more cognitively complex.

Unfortunately, the final sorting task puts the lie to that rationalization: This time you sort the words and faces into the categories European American/Good or African American/Bad. Tellingly (and distressingly) this sort goes much faster than the previous sort. I was much quicker to associate words like “joy,” “love,” and “pleasure” with European American/Good than I did with African American/Good.

I consider myself about as socially liberal as you can get (I’m a libertarian), and yet on a scale that includes “slight,” “moderate,” and “strong,” the program concluded: “Your data suggest a strong automatic preference for European American compared to African American.” What? “The interpretation is described as ‘automatic preference for European American’ if you responded faster when European American faces and Good words were classified with the same key than when African American faces and Good words were classified with the same key.”

But I’m not a racist. How can this be? It turns out that this subconscious association of good with European Americans is true for everyone, even African Americans, no matter how color blind we all claim to be. Such is the power of culture.

We are by nature sorters. Evolutionists theorize that we evolved in small bands of hunter-gatherers where there was a selection for within-group amity and between-group enmity. With our fellow in-group members, we are cooperative and altruistic. Unfortunately, the down side to this pro-social bonding is that we are also quite tribal and xenophobic to out-group members.

This natural tendency to sort people into Within-Group/Good and Between-Group/Bad is shaped by culture, such that all Americans, including those whose ancestry is African, implicitly inculcate the cultural association, which includes additional prejudices.

The IAT, in fact, also demonstrates that we prefer young to old, thin to fat, straight to gay, and such associations as family-females and career-males, liberal arts-females and science-males. Such associations bubble just below the surface, inhibited by cultural restraints but susceptible to eruption under extreme inebriation or duress.

Michael Richards’ sin was his deed; his thoughts are the sin of all humanity. Only when all people are considered to be members of one global in-group (in principle, if not in practice) can we begin to attenuate these out-group associations. But it won’t be easy. Vigilance is the watchword of both freedom and dignity.

We should accept Mr. Richards’ apology for losing his temper and acting out those hateful thoughts. Perhaps we also ought to thank him for having the courage to confess in public what far too many of us still harbor in private, often in the privacy of our unconscious minds. As the Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote:

"Every man has reminiscences which he would not tell to everyone but only his friends. He has other matters in his mind which he would not reveal even to his friends, but only to himself, and that in secret. But there are other things which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, and every decent man has a number of such things stored away in his mind."

Just what you're looking for

What is the difference between Canada and the U.S., you ask? The two are practically the same, you exclaim! We are totally obsessed with the American media, you say. Well, we may be close, but thankfully we still have a bit of our own...culture. I wanted to say a bit of sense, but that is just too cruel (and number 8 below points to the folly in that belief). It's not great, and it certainly isn't what I'm looking for, but these are the top internet searches of 2006, according to Yahoo and Yahoo Canada (taxes are number 7!):

Canada's top 10 searches in 2006 (on Yahoo! Canada)

1. NHL
2. FIFA World Cup
3. American Idol
4. Rock Star Supernova
5. WWE
6. Neopets
7. Revenue Canada
8. Days of Our Lives
9. Environment Canada
10. Jessica Simpson

U.S. top 10 searches in 2006:

1. Britney Spears
2. WWE
3. Shakira
4. Jessica Simpson
5. Paris Hilton
6. American Idol
7. Beyoncé Knowles
   
8. Chris Brown
9. Pamela Anderson
10. Lindsay Lohan

Celerbation

Today, I am going to celebrate my 10th anniversary of something I like to do. I am not sure if it is exactly 10 years since I first started doing this, but since I have nothing else to celebrate on November 16, today will be the day.

When I first started, like any kid of that age, I wasn't quite sure what to do. I watched other people do it a bit, but I think they generally didn't like that. I tried to learn what I could from some books and magazines, but in this fluid activity you can only learn so much with still images. As I kept at it, though, I began to improve - leaps and bounds at first, before slight gains, and then no improvement at all for a while.

With the exception of a few dry spells here and there, I have been doing it pretty steadily since I first began. Sometimes I would be out in the field with the army for a week and unable to do it, but I always tried to make up for it when I got back.

I have had a few regular partners, a couple for a few months and even one for over a year. I have had some partners only once, too. For the most part, though, I have been doing it solo-style ever since the beginning.

Fridays are never a good bet for it. I usually drink way too much, and am totally physically incapable. I usually try to make up for that with Saturdays, though, when I have all day free.

It is healthy, it is natural, it is even a good thing to talk about at the office. I am considered a bit of an expert around here, and have even counselled others on improving its place in their life.

Wow. 10 years. That's a long time. You would really think I would be better at it by now. What is it?...







It's WORKING OUT! ...What else?

To Hang Hussein

Judging Saddam Hussein is a good opinion article from The Economist. Seeing as I agree with it, instead of trying to convince you of my position through half-complete thoughts and run-on sentences, I will direct you to that source and suggest you give it a read.

Remember

I bet they would have given anything for a girl and a beer and a warm summer night with their buddies. But instead they got death, death all around them and a headstone without a name. Their lives were given to their cause, even those who lived. If we remember what they gave us, then their sacrifices were not in vain. For one day, please...Let us remember them.

For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Polling

I hate polls. Where did they all come from? Why are there so many polls these days? You can't watch CNN, you can't watch Much Music, you can't even watch TSN anymore without getting the results of a poll. Seriously, yesterday there was a poll on TSN showing which Canadian team people thought had the best chance of winning the Stanley Cup this year. The poll had Calgary and Ottawa at the bottom. 5 weeks previously, the exact same poll question had Calgary and Ottawa at the top.

So why do we care what polls say? I think it was in Men In Black when Tommy Lee Jones said, "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it."

Today I came across this poll from CBC. Look at number 6, the percentage of respondents who approve of Canada's mission in Afghanistan. Look at how it has changed. Are we skittish? Cold feet? Wary of casualties? Over-emotional after 9/11? Number 7 is not too surprising - only half of the people giving responses know why who Canada is working for over there.

Governments cannot make decisions based on opinion polls. They MUST not make decisions based on opinion polls. I am happy our government has not done so yet in this matter. We all know what Jack Layton would do about it. Then again, everyone knows he will never form the government, so he is free to say anything he likes to please his target audience.

I guess the overall message is this - research, vote, and ignore all the polls. Sure, I would give responses if they called me for a poll, but I don't know if I would even trust those answers.

Getting less fatter

A(nother) recent study from Statscan. The news? Canadians continue to get fatter...but at a slower rate. Between 2003 and 2005, men only gained an average of 0.7kg and women 0.6kg, whereas in the previous two years the numbers had been 1.1 and 1.0 respectively. Hurray!

No?

No. But I guess that is better than rates increasing. The more worrisome number actually came from a University of Rochester study that was comparing abdominal fat levels. Levels of "abdominal obesity" in 2-5 year old boys went up 84% since 1988. And even more ridiculous, it went up 126% in 18-19 year old girls.

Holy crap. There is really no excuse for that at these young ages, and it is seriously reducing any motivation I have to go hang out around high schools these days. What, too far?

Anyway, the funniest part of this whole deal was in a comment posted on the Globe and Mail article, which reads as follows:

Spicy Doc from Canada writes: So we're still getting fatter but at a slower rate?? And the Chinese are out of control?? Time for the UN to get its act together and set up a 'Bloato' Protocol. Canada and other nations must get back to 1990 weight averages or else buy 'Credits' from starving countries to comply. Naturally the US will boycott, citing huge pressure from the fatty snak lobby. China will chow through dim sum like there's no tomorrow. In Canada the libs will promise to comply, but aside from getting Rick Mercer to do a '20-lb challenge', Canada will continue to pork up. The NDP will ridicule Harper for not promising Canada will lose 20 lbs per person in 2 weeks. Rona will suggest a plan of sensible eating, combined with safe exercise, leading to a gradual but meaningful long-term improvement. The media eat her alive, screaming that she is an incompetent moron. Bloggers call for the Tories scalps (whilst chomping down Doritos and Coke). The song remains the same..,..

Stern Reports

You should check out this report on the state of the environment. Then you can read this one about how Canada is doing. The average Candian uses enough energy, consumes enough food, produces enough trash, etc, that we need 7.6 hectares to support each person. If you would like to put that in terms of an area we can better understand, try 818,056 square feet. That is the size of my house, times 800.

So yeah, World Wildlife Fund it is.

Charity Case

I work for the Government of Canada. And when one works for this government, one is made familiar with something called the Government of Canada Workplace Charitable Campaign. It is just a campaign each year in the fall where employees are encouraged to donate to a charity of their choice by payroll deduction throughout the year. We had a short presentation on this the other day, and it got me thinking - I should definitely be giving more. I didn't even come through on that promise to give my Ralphbucks to charity. So now I will be using my salary (which comes your tax dollars, of course) and redistributing to the charity that I see fit.

But...which charity to give to? There are thousands of options. There are a few basic choices on the pledge sheet - I could give to The United Way, who could redistribute it as they like. I could be more specifc, giving to The United Way specifically to fight poverty, for child and youth programs, or for victims of abuse. I could give to Healthpartners, a group including the major health associations such as The Canadian Cancer Society and The Heart & Stroke Foundation. Or I could give to any registered charity in the country.

Right now I have a sponsored child in Uganda. Maybe I should give something to stay in Canada now? Or even my local community? But I think there are places elsewhere that probably need it more. How about giving to people who do something about protecting the environment? Renewable energy? World Wildlife Fund? I don't know. There are too many choices.

It won't be much money. They won't be hiring any new scientists or building any new shelters with my donations. I just want them to mean something, though. So what do you think? Who deserves our hard-earned money?

Different Families

This letter was posted on army.ca by a Candian soldier recently wounded in Afghanistan:

Dealing with being home from Kandahar

(Oct 16, 2006)

It has been 2 month and 2 days since I deployed to Afghanistan, with 8 Platoon, Charles Company, 1 RCR. I was honored, as a reservist augmentee, to be attached to such a great group of probably the best soldiers our country has to offer.

In the three short weeks I was in Afghanistan, I learned more about commitment to my military family than most soldiers learn in a lifetime. It seemed both unfortunate and amazing that it took battle and bloodshed to forge such a strong bond.

It has been 1 month and 12 days since I was wounded and pulled from the battlefield. When I was in the hospital in KAF, I had hoped that I would stay in Afghanistan to recover. Why would I want to stay in such a horrible place that almost claimed my life? I didn't want to leave my family.

Germany and Toronto (hospitals) were a blur of Morphine, Demerol, Fentanyl, IV lines, wound packings, shrapnel removal surgeries, catheters, bad food, and good care. I think back on it and it seems dizzying. But when I close my eyes, only 2 images flash and they take me back to where I'm supposed to be.

I see Panjwayi; the fields of pot. Rockets and bullets. The smell of burning and the heat. Then all I see are the bodies of soldiers I helped carry to the CCP. 2 covered by body bags (WO. Richard Nolan, Sgt. Shane Stachnik) and 2 on stretchers; my platoon warrant (WO Frank Mellish), and a soldiers I new only casually from living in the shacks in Petawawa (Pte.Will Cushley)

While at the CCP I find out that a very close friend (from my reserve home unit) had been wounded by shrapnel from Taliban RPGs. His sections LAV had been left on the battlefield. For a long while, I didn't know how badly he was wounded. (He's still over there, thus no names) I'll never forget the feeling; the sense and fear of loss. I will never forget those who were lost that day.

I try to think of the good times I was privileged enough to have with my Platoon. WO. Mellish made me the unofficial piper of 8 Platoon, (shortly there after; Coy piper) and I played reveille as per his request (and everyone else's distain) anytime I was able. In dreams I still hear him shouting "Piper!!! Black Bear!!"... The last tune I played on my pipes... at panjwayi. (I still don't have them back)

When I close my eyes, I also see the morning after Panjwayi. Sparks, smoke, fire... then the burp of the main gun of the A-10. I remember the feeling of panic as I crawled for my Weapon and PPE, thinking we were under attack. I can still feel the burning on my legs and back, the shock of thinking my legs were gone.

I can see the faces of the injured... the twice-wounded soldiers of Charles. I see the face of the soldier who saved my life by applying tourniquets to my legs and stopping the bleeding from my back and arm... (He will remain nameless for now)

From then, everything's a blur until I'm back in KAF. I remember asking if everyone was 'ok'... Reaching from my gurney to other wounded soldiers walking by, trying to peace together what had happened... more confusion. I asked again and again...

Pte. Mark Graham. An inspirational man whom I only really started to get to know shortly before deploying, a brother in our family of warriors, was dead. My heart sank even more.

Our CSM (who was also wounded) came over to me and asked if I was going to be able to play the pipes for the ramp ceremony the following day. I held up my right hand, which was numb, and looked at my fingers. The tips of 2 of them looked like they had been chewed up in a blender. I felt tears run down my face. Not because I thought I'd never play again, but because I couldn't play for my departed brothers the next day... I would have given both of my hands and more for their lives.

I had hoped to attend the ramp ceremony the next day, even if I couldn't play, but I couldn't move my legs and they couldn't put me in a wheel chair because of the shrapnel in my back. I was sedated that day, and came to on the plane to Germany.

I couldn't attend any of the funerals of my fallen family, and I feel no closure.

It has been a month and 12 days since I lost my brothers in Panjwayi and it might as well have been yesterday.

When I close my eyes at night I not only see the ones who have paid the ultimate price, but also the ones who are still there... and I feel as though I am betraying them.

My life seems to be dragging me on. My fiancé and I are planning our wedding and future. My family and I get together often. I've been able to socialize with my friends... and yet each thing I do here makes me feel guilty, because I shouldn't be here to enjoy this.

I wake up every day and plan and plot. I think of only one thing; how can I get back to my family... How can I get back to Afghanistan? My wounds are almost healed. Only 3 holes left and they're almost closed. I can walk pretty well now, but I need to run.

My family and friends don't understand. They don't want me to go back. My fiancé has threatened to end our relationship if I chose to return... and yet this doesn't dissuade me. I have to get back to my boys. I have to get back and do my part no matter the cost to me. I love my family here in Canada, but no one's shooting at them.

Every time I see more soldiers killed over there a piece of me dies, and I feel the urge to return grow stronger. And each day I enjoy in my freedom here, I feel as though I have betrayed their memory. I need to finish my job over there. I need to go back.

I can only think of the families of those who have died, and I can only say this, and hope it provides some solace:
A warrior's sword is made from the finest steel, forged by hammer and anvil to create and edge, baptized in hot coals and flame for strength, then quenched in cold water to harden it.

Our brotherhood of Warriors, the finest of men, has been forged by Battle; Baptized by fire and Quenched by tears...

We became and will always be a fraternity of blood with a bond stronger than death.

Pro Patria

I hate to rant, but I need to vent. It's been a hard road, and I know there are a few others here who have seen it and may or may not feel the same (HoM).

To the mods... feel free to delete this post if you find it pointless.

- Piper

Brotherhood of Warriors
Forged in battle
Baptized by fire
Quenched in tears

C Coy, 1 RCR
Panjwayi

Job Satisfaction

So Statscan says that 1 in 12 Canadians are not satisfied with their jobs.

Really? Wow, I would have thought that the numbers would be much higher than that. Is that to say that 11 in 12 ARE satisfied? That's not too bad at all. The report mention that shift workers, people working irregular shifts, sales representatives, service employees and factory workers all generally have lower levels of satisfaction. But I thought that there were a lot more people than that who were unsatisfied.

If so many people are happy, why do I always hear about boredom, the terrible bosses, the lack of vacation, and all that stuff that people generally like to say about their jobs? Is it just that people find common ground there? Is a job seen as "satisfying" if it does nothing more than provide a means to an end (money)?

I don't really know. What does it take to find satisfaction in a job? If I could point to one thing, it would probably be flow, the ol' je ne sais quoi that people can find in a job of any complexity, respect, or pay level. And a related question - why do people choose the job that they do? Do they get stuck in it because "it pays the bills?" Or because their education (or lack of education) limits them to it? What does it really take to abandon what you are doing and go after the job you always dreamed about?

I have the job I have always dreamed about. I am still training for it, and unfortunately there is still the stress-causing threat of failure. I lost sight of the job for a while a few years ago, when I felt myself being limited to my field of post-secondary knowledge. Luckily, I took a few months off after university, and found myself totally without employment upon my return. I had direction - I wanted to be a firefighter - but that wouldn't be possible for quite a while. It was during this time of working in a short-term, unsatisfying job that I found again what I wanted to do. For me, it wasn't the biggest risk. I left a fairly boring job for an exciting one. I ended up leaving behind my family and friends, but that didn't really seem real at the time so it wasn't at the top of my mind.

Someone else who is training here had to give up a whole lot more. He is married and has two kids, both with Down Syndrome. His wife has to take care of the kids. He had a comfortable job with IG as a financial planner. When he was 42 years old, he decided to give up his safe life and go for his lifelong dream of being a pilot in the Air Force. Now THAT....that is quite a risk.

So which is the way to go? Are you really satisfied with your job now? I ask myself this question all the time, and I am lucky enough to always have an answer. My contentedness could even be naive, considering the high failure rate and my complete lack of a backup plan, but I just don't want anything else right now. How about your job? Perhaps it is the safety of the job which gives you satisfaction and motivates you. Perhaps it really challenges you on a daily basis. Maybe you just work to make money to blow on the weekend. In any case, I think it is healthy to ask oneself every so often...is this the job I really want?

Saving the world

Here is an interesting article on the potentially harmful effects of a well-intentioned idea to help look after the earth - biofuels.

And here is an article by Jared Diamond, the author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning book Guns, Germs, and Steel. He wants to convince you about another one of those things that is helping to destroy not the world, but the folks like us who live in it - agriculture.

Save the world. And yourself!

Apologies

I am really sorry. Yes, this blog has fallen apart lately. No deep thoughts, no ranting, not even any effort-free photos. I am sorry. The thing is, I am really busy these days. I didn't hide it when I started writing here - I was doing it because I had a lot of time on my hands. That didn't mean I didn't have anything to say, even less so now, but I just am not willing to put as much time into it anymore. I am busy with classes, flying, and way more studying than I ever had to do in University. This puts my free time at a premium. And, as you can see, I haven't put the blog at the top of the free-time priority list.

You know what IS at the top of that list? Well, apparently it is attending local parties, because I have done so every weekend, save one, since I have been here. And of what does a local party consist? Well, let me tell you of one of them, in the hopes that you can copy this party wherever you are.

In these parts, it is called a Tac Eval. Sounds very army-ish, doesn't it? It stands for "tactical evaluation," and is essentially an evaluation of a coworker's (or boss's) situational awareness, as well as hospitality. You have to make sure all of your collegues are "in the know" and willing to accompany you, or it just turns into one creepy dude hanging out on someone else's lawn. Get everyone together somewhere, ensuring you have all party ingredients on hard (beer, ice, lawn chairs, bbq, food and condiments, maybe even some sort of music production apparatus). You then move to the front lawn of the house of the person being evaluated. You set up your chairs, sit back and crack a cold beer, and start the clock. His score is amount of time it takes for him to a) realize you are there, and b) invite you into his home. Of course, he should also offer his own beer, his own food, and all the comforts of his home, since you have all been so nice as to come to his house to throw him a party.

We did this a couple of weeks ago to some guys on my course. They are Hungarian, and it almost seemed that they were a separate course. They didn't come out with us, and barely even talked with us. We sure showed them. We forced them to hang out with us. We also forced it on their girlfriends, who all came all the way from Hungary to be with these guys. So much for alone time!

So, although BBQ season is sadly coming to an end, I do believe you have at least a few more weeks to make it happen. I will be flying/learning/studying/partying from here.

New things

Well. Almost done my 3rd week of ground school. This is tiring. Simulator training started this week. Here is what I noticed so far:

-My ejection seat is way fancier and more expensive than that office chair you have been bragging about. The cost ($75k or something like that) is not necessarily proportional to comfort.
-The atmosphere around here, where most of the students live in the same building and many eat together, is something like a university dorm. Except we get paid, and we actually study.
-Flying is some combination of art and science. The science part is knowing exactly what to do at a given time or to effectuate a given manoeuvre. The art is being able to move hands, feet, and fingers to make it happen.
-I'm not much of an artist
-My days would be about an hour shorter, and way less interesting, without instructors who have thousands of war stories to tell.
-The $12M simulators we fly in are cooler than Microsoft Flight Sim. But not THAT much cooler. I will stick with flight sim myself.
-Memorize your checks, and when you screw up the instructors won't notice as much.

And I haven't even started flying yet. That is on monday. Have a good weekend.

PowerTunes

This post is inspired by Nike. Or more specifically, the new Nike+ system, where a little chip goes in your shoe and transmits info to your iPod whilst running. In this way you can always feel like you have an annoying fat coach right beside you yelling. You know, the kind that rides on his bike at a leisurely pace while you are killing yourself running. Like it always showed in Mike Tyson's PunchOut! Anyway, interesting system. I won't be buying it. But the part that is interesting is that, according to the ad I saw on the Nike website, when you are down to the last few minutes, or perhaps just the hardest portion of the run, you can cue up your "Power Song." I definitely know what they're talking about there. These are the songs that are somehow able to make your legs move faster, despite the fact that they were just ready to stop. They make your lungs heave, despite their best attempts to slow you down. They give the extra minute, or just the extra few seconds, that make the difference between a good run and just going for a jog. So I dedicate this post to my favourite power songs of all time, in order or awesomeness:

1) The First Drop - Rise Against
1) The Artist in the Ambulance - Thrice
1) Bullion - Millencolin
1) Injection - Rise Against
1) Drowning Lessons - My Chemical Romance

If you know what a power song is, and these songs are not part of your repertoire, you are making a horrible mistake. Of course, I am always open to suggestions. What is YOUR best power song?