I like to think I know an unfiltered brain when I see one. I mean, I aught to–I’ve been one on more than a couple occasions. Pretty sure my membership in the unrestrained club’s a lifetime one. So when May and I were sitting on the bus coming home from an appointment, and the guy sitting across from us turned to the woman next to him–someone I’m assuming, based on the fact she hadn’t so much as acknowledged him until then, didn’t know him–and began what was apparently going to be a conversation whether she wanted it to be or not with “you’re probably wondering what happened to me”, to say I was surprised would more than likely be a small exageration. I did have to say something to May though, if only to try stopping myself from cringing so bad somebody at the back of the bus could have been clued in there was a problem on creaper transit.

I couldn’t be exactly sure how interested she was in this guy’s life story. For that matter, I couldn’t be entirely sure he was addressing her–his conversational tone was a couple knotches above conversational. I could be very sure though that neither May nor myself were wondering what happened to this guy–particularly after he was quite insistent that no no, we could sit right there next to him (thanks, but I like the view from just about anywhere you’re not a whole lot better, pal). And when, whether she was interested or not, he started to explain how he was hit by a bus either last week or the week before (it changed depending on which part of the story he was telling), and going into great detail about how he’s been in and out of hospital since then and all that, I could be slightly more sure that any interest the person he was actually talking to might have had in his life story was quickly switched out for some odd brand of politeness that somehow prevented either her or pretty much anyone else in earshot from punching him in both kidneys on principle. I honestly have no idea how that conversation ended–he was still going on when we got to our stop, but I can only imagine his poor captive audience filed it under “reasons to get a freaking car” and then tried very hard to put as much distance between herself and that conversation as humanly possible.

I have little to no TMI filter. Which, as it happens, is a very good thing–since apparently people I barely know occasionally feel the need to tell me things most people would find way TMI and probably just as many would slap you stupid for asking. Junk like that doesn’t bother me. Odds are you’ll be more embarrassed for saying it than I’ll be for hearing it. But here’s the thing. I usually at least somewhat know the people who end up doing that to me–probably a part of why it doesn’t bother me (the other part being I will probably never have any reason whatsoever to have need for about 95% of the potentially TMI, so it gets filed under “interesting, but useless”). And it usually happens on some kind of messenger, or through email, or–albeit less often lately–in a phone conversation. You know, an environment of somewhat relative privacy–NSA notwithstanding. This guy’s sitting on a public bus, in front of God and everyone, unloading the trials of the past week or two (again, depending on which part of his story you pay attention to) on a woman he’s never met, who’s name he probably has never heard, and thinking she–or anyone else who can hear the conversation–will actually take notice for any longer than it takes for them to get to wherever it is they’re going. I don’t have much of a filter, but I’m fairly sure he dropped his. I wonder if someone’s told him.

Got a free evening with nothing to do tonight? Find yourself in or near the Ottawa area? The Shout Sister choir will solve that problem and then some. Their final show of the year happens tonight, and anyone in driving range is invited. If you can get to 2675 Draper Ave for an 8:00 show, tickets cost a whole $15 at the door. Why would you want to? This is a start. Mainstream and older music, with a twist–and a dancing dog. Screw going big or going home. These folks are doing both. Want some? You’ve got the address. Now what’s your excuse?

Because we’ve had very little actual debate about what the hell the NSA’s in the middle of and if we even really need or want it there (thanks bunches, secret courts of secret interpretations of otherwise not so secret laws), somebody thought it might be fun to create one. So now, we have the 2013, pro-NSA Barack Obama versus the 2006 apparently anti-NSA Joe Biden. And just for the record, the 2006 side wins. If it wasn’t for the fact he probably won’t be in politics after the 2014 election, I’d be placing bets on how long before someone uses this in an ad campaign. Ah screw it. Who’d like to make a wager?

Last month, I went into a bit of an essay on why exactly I’d have absolutely nothing at all to do with anything political. Simply put, there’s no honesty in it whatsoever–and, in fact, a guaranteed way to see yourself quickly shown the door is to express some of that honesty, whether it’s got support from the people who voted you in or not. I was reminded of this after the National Post published an entire page of letters on the topic, most of them agreeing politics and honesty don’t go all that well together–and referencing recent events like the mess around Toronto mayors and their aledged crack habbits, or the slightly less B-movie-inspiring soap opera around senators and misbegotten tax dollars. What no one on that page mentioned though is you almost need to be willing and more than able to disconnect yourself from reality, if only to distance yourself from your family background, before you even consider the thought of running for office.

For the first time since this broke, I’m going to break my rule and dip my toe into the Rob Ford mess in toronto. Because as this thing unfolds, it escentially explains my point. Let’s leave out, just for the sake of argument, your opinion on how well–or not–Ford managed things with the city since he was elected. That’s a non-issue insofar as this goes, particularly considering he could have spent the last two years in hospital and the city wouldn’t have gone to pieces around him on account of if he’s got no one backing him, he’s got about as much power on council as any one of the guys who decided about the day after he was elected that he had to go. But it outlines one of the problems with running for office pretty much anywhere, on pretty much any platform that makes a degree of sense. As soon as someone decides they don’t agree with you, the gloves come off. It looks vaguely like the toronto Star versus the Fords. Or certain columnists versus Justin Trudeau. Or even normally sensible people versus Stephen Harper (disclaimer: I’m not a Stephen Harper supporter. I just don’t see the point in slagging the guy for breathing.). And the only thing that really gets accomplished is attention is drawn from whichever issue prompted the disagreement in the first place.

I’ll go back to the Ford thing, because it’s happening now and honestly, trying to pull evidence of the Harper thing could take for bloody ever just to sift through it all. Both Rob and his councillor brother Doug could benefit from a quick crash course in public relations management. Or, failing that, a lesson in how not to piss the current ones off. That’s no secret. And whether you’re a Ford supporter or not, that much has to be admitted up front before anything else. And yes, they could probably do with maybe not having shared an opinion or two. But if you really do get what you paid for, then my guess would be the media’s been paying for this since the target was painted. And it translates to roughly what we’re seeing here.

Last weekend, everyone was expecting–in fact, almost demanding–that toronto mayor Rob Ford address accusations that he’s been caught on video smoking crack. Even if it was to deny the reports, they wanted something. This past weekend, Ford finally did deny the reports–and many of the folks who said they’d be fine with that turned around and then said he was lying–that now, the only thing he could possibly do is resign. A side story came up near the end of this past week that says in the 80′s, Doug was a hash dealer. The Globe and Mail had apparently been working on that particular story for 18 months, so this didn’t necessarily have anything to do with the kerfuffle as regards to Rob, but it was released in connection to the last week’s events, as a sort of profile of the Ford family–an indication that, in politics, nothing is off-limits. And folks in the political and journalism arenas have run with it since–the connection being, of course, “Rob Ford smokes–or, at least, smoked–crack. This isn’t new to him. Drugs are in his family.”.

Admittedly not having as sharp of a political nose as I maybe should, I can’t see how a report like that does much more damage to Rob than what he’s already doing to himself, save maybe periferally. The damage, if any at all results from this report by itself, would seem to land more at Doug’s feet–possibly a warning shot in the event he follows through with his brainstorm to run for the provincial conservatives in the next election, whenever that ends up being. But if timing is everything, then by publishing it now, the Globe is hoping I’m wrong in that assessment–and, at the same time, indicating how far outside the arena they’ll go to drive their idea of Doug, and presumedly Rob, home to anyone who’ll listen.

As it stands now, Toronto’s current soap opera goes vaguely something like this. A video exists, say 3 people who’ve seen it, that shows Rob Ford smoking crack. No one except these 3 reporters have seen the video. Ford, acting–his explanation, not mine–on the advice of his lawyer, stayed the hell quiet for a week before denying the reports and saying he’s not adicted to crack and doesn’t smoke crack–choosing his words carefully, in other words, according to a few. “Not good enough. You’re lying. Resign already and get help.” And as if to prove the point, the Doug Ford story comes out. Rob’s older brother, A.K.A. guy with the hash. In his teenaged years, he was the go-to for the good stuff, the report says. Doug, naturally, denies the hell out of it. But still, it’s just one more thing to add to the list where the two of them are concerned. People will react to it how they will, even if how they will roughly equates to not at all, but it shouldn’t have needed to go that far.

The Globe and Mail, as said earlier, was working on this story for a year and a half. Meaning at some point, crackstarter notwithstanding, they planned to release a profile of at least one of the Ford brothers as a teenager involved in the drug scene. Pinning this as a Ford family profile, as they have, implies that crackstarter campaign notwithstanding, they would have gone ahead and published the story regardless because, as the Globe’s editor said, these are people of public interest running on an anti-drug platform.

When explaining to readers how its story was in the public interest, the Globe noted that the Ford brothers hold sway over much of the city’s business and have campaigned on anti-drug platforms.

“The rest of city council, and citizens at large, deserve to understand the moral record of their leaders. In most matters, public or private, character matters,” Globe Editor-in-Chief John Stackhouse wrote in a column accompanying Saturday’s article.

So as a public service to the community, the Globe and Mail decided it had to let the citizens of toronto know that at least one of the men they voted for may or may not have done something stupid in his teens. For the record, I’ve done something stupid in my teens. Sure, it’s not quite on the level of the drug trade (I, like Rob, have a brother who may or may not have done that for me), but I’ve been pretty brainless. Mind, I also have been very careful to stay as far away from public office as humanly possible. Why? Because even if I haven’t done anything more than shoplift at the age of 13, I’ve got family and they’ve got baggage. And, as the Globe and Mail points out above, the voting public would deserve to understand my moral record–especially if I decided, say, to run for office on an anti-drug platform–or, I guess, as of right now on an anti-shoplifting platform. And because my family’s got baggage, any number of today’s current issues could come back to bite me in the rear were I to bother with running for office. Tough versus soft on crime? Check. Legalizing or decriminalizing pot? Check. Upping the penalties for sexual assault? Check. The list goes on. And all it takes is one or two of the several people I’ve crossed paths with that I’ve managed to piss off in the nearly 30 years I’ve been pissing people off and at least one reporter with 5 minutes to catch a story over coffee. Proof? Why, the word of someone who says they knew me is proof enough. What does it matter if I didn’t stand in a public place and pass a joint back and forth with a bunch of other folks? The reporter for the local paper’s got two people I haven’t spoken to since before I was voting age that says I did.

Honesty wouldn’t make a difference in my very hypothetical situation, and it doesn’t make a difference in the Ford mess. Sure, both Fords could be flat out telling the truth. Hell, even one of them could be telling the truth. Of course it’s equally–and some would argue quite a bit more–likely that both of them are flat out lying with a straight face. But it doesn’t matter. Because 3 people saw a video owned by a guy who’d like to remain nameless, Rob’s guilty. Because the Globe heard from people probably still in the drug trade, who because they’re likely still in the drug trade would like to remain nameless, Doug is likely going to end up equally guilty. And whether one, both or neither of them were involved in anything remotely on the north side of the law, this will follow them into any future election one or both of them decide to take on. Doug running for the conservatives in the next election? I can already see the liberal ad campaign. Rob running for another term as Toronto’s mayor? Win or lose that one–and folks are saying he’d win if it happened today, anyone running against him has that to hit him over the head with. They have plenty of other, much more proveable things to beat him over the head with, but tell me that one wouldn’t make the list. It doesn’t have to be true. It just has to stick in the back of someone’s mind long enough for them to get to the polls and stick an X next to someone who’s last name isn’t Ford.

If you have any baggage at all, be it your own or that of a relative, public service of nearly any variety is almost 100% not the place for you. A rare exception is those who, through whatever means they manage to do it, can distance themselves from that baggage and its causes. And even then, it’s only one “investigative report” away from being front page news 30 years later. We all have things we’d have rathered not done. Most of us, I’d like to hope, are smart enough to have learned from those things and maybe aranged things in such away that some of them don’t end up repeated. I don’t plan to be anywhere near public office now, but in 20 years, who knows? Maybe something I write here will be the springboard that pushes me in that direction. Maybe instead I’ll get a job doing AOL style tech support for John Q. Customer and what my uncle was involved in before I was born won’t need to be justified, denied, explained away, covered up or any number of other things people have done to their past before they undertake a career in public service. I’d like to say maybe in 20 or 25 years it won’t matter, but that might be being slightly too generous–and I don’t feel like being that generous. But as long as people’s backgrounds are front page news, because somebody somewhere did something that can be used to make a point, it won’t matter whether you’ve got the next mother Theresa running for office. If you go the dishonest route, you can make a decent living out of it–at least until somebody comes up with a background article that focuses on that drug ring your cousin was arrested for being involved in 2 weeks after you graduated. If you decide to take the honest approach, you’re sunk on sight. Because an anti-drug advocate who was into drugs when he was 16 just can’t happen. And if the guy running opposite you doesn’t make sure of that, the media almost certainly will. Even if you weren’t actually into drugs. For proof, you need only look at Rob and Doug Ford.

And every once in a while, somebody drops by and leaves me a something I can relate to. This is the last 5 years or so, roughly summarized. And it needs to be said–I couldn’t do it any better myself.

Nov 26 12:10pm: nowhere is hiring

Truer words were never spoken, young googler. By the way, could you use a geek? I’m cheap…

I’ve been doing the blogging thing off and on for 7 years, give or take. In that 7 years, I’ve used several different platforms depending on what I was looking for and how much of a headache I wanted. I settled on using wordPress in March of 2009, when it would have been very nearly 6 years old. I’ve never looked back. Today, with several hundred thousand possible themes, plugins, templates and god only knows what else–not counting what’s already built into its core, I don’t think I can ever be convinced to look back. WordPress does half the work for me, which is absolutely awesome if you’re me. And because of the absolutely insane list of just about everything under the sun people have already done to make it even better, you don’t need to be exceedingly well versed in the art of PHP to get things done–also advantage me, who has this nasty habbit of breaking just about everything PHP in several interesting ways before it sort of halfway works.

Today, WordPress turns 10. And already, they’ve got a shortlist of ideas being kicked about for future versions–including a thing I’ve been saying needs to happen with regards posting by email, since I decided to abandon trying to roll my own solution for doing the same (I should probably update that post too, given I discovered other issues with that plugin later on). If even their short-term plans turn out to be as good as what I’ve seen since throwing myself aboard this particular bandwagon, the next 10 years should be awesome squared. But then, just about anything that lets me throw opinions this way and that on whatever crosses my otherwise empty mind is awesome squared.

Happy birthday, WordPress. When next I toss back a shot, it’ll be in your name. Now if we could just talk about hiring me.

And now, after much forgetting to do this and much more procrastinating, it’s roughly time for one of these again. Just in time for me to start compiling the exact same list for the month of May. You’d think I’d have this down by now. Well, maybe those of you who just started reading this thing would–everyone else knows better. But that would just be no fun. Besides, this month’s will make up for it when it gets there.

April was fairly busy, with a healthy helping of mockery and an even larger helping of finishing up with the getting my life back in order. But it was the posts from earlier this year that seem to have caught people’s interest. In April, 1418 of you dropped by the site, wasting an average of a minute and a half in the process. I’m sorry. Here’s what caught your eye, as always brought to you courtesy Google Analytics.

• If I’d known when I wrote in January about my fun with conspiracies it’d still be catching attention 3 months later, I’d have probably done a whole lot more pushing of that post. Because apparently, the Canadian take on a good New World Order conspiracy is a thing. It was the most visited page on the site in April.
• I’m no fan of ODSP in recent months. Well, if we’re being honest I haven’t been a fan of theirs since 2010, but who’s counting? In February, I discovered the Ontario government’s initial efforts at cost cutting. I wrote about it when I was done dealing with it, figuring that’d be just about it for at least the first few months–especially given the self same government was kind of on pins and needles since Dalton Mcguinty ran off and hid. Yeah, about that.
• I’m a wee bit of a geek. Okay, so that may be a slight understatement. I tend to like to do fun things with modems and routers and networks and generally not recommended internet things. I like it when an ISP lets me get away with it. Or, if nothing else, when that same ISP doesn’t decide to build road blocks into their hardware to prevent me from getting away with it. So when I found out the ISP I was with near the end of 2012 was doing exactly everything I don’t like my ISP to do, I wasn’t impressed. Naturally I tried to work around it. Naturally, given the ISP in question is Bell Canada, I only came away with a headache. But it apparently proved vaguely useful for a few people, as indicated by the fact the entry still makes the list. Now if someone would just drop by that post with a workaround, that would be amazing.
• Back on the thread of ODSP things, because apparently people find it useful, I mentioned the government was kind of on a bit of pins and needles. Being a minority government, they needed the support of at least one other party in order to pass their budget for this year, otherwise we’d have been heading for a spring election. That was going to mean compromises that, well, may have ended up hurting more than they help in the long run. Because it’s happened to folks on ODSP before, I wrote an open letter to the province’s finance minister, asking him not to screw it over. I’m still waiting to see if it has any halfway decent result, but first looks aren’t doing so hot. Still, it could be worse, right? Yeah, don’t answer that.
• Microsoft announced at the beginning of this year it would be making Windows Live things die a death of some sort. And then they only half killed it, leaving some of you to wonder what the hell gives. If you, uh, don’t use Microsoft’s official client for that messaging service, you can still use it. At least until some date to be determined later. If you don’t use a non-Microsoft client, though? Hopefully you’re a fan of Skype.

And that’s the kind of April it’s been, now that May’s nearly wrapped up. Enjoy what’s left of it. And remember to have a couple shots for me–it’s apparently ill advised for me to drink and blog. Not that I won’t try it at least twice.

I get paranoia. I don’t get it, insofar as I understand it, but I get it exists. And I get it exists to quite probably the most unjustifiable levels in about half a forever. There’s probably about half a dozen diagnoses that could cover it. Perhaps if a few of them were applied at just the right time to just the right people, we wouldn’t have yet another list from the Department of Homeland Security on just what to look for in a potential terrorist while you’re doing exactly everything a good non-terrorist is supposed to do during your hotel stay. Which, apparently, includes such sound advice as to keep a lookout for anyone who might be leaving their vehicle unattended too close to the hotel–without, you know, defining such critical language as “too close”. Oh, and be careful how much you don’t use the hotel-provided telephones or wi-fi. Oh, you’ve got your own cell phone? Don’t wanna pay the too much for in-house net? Terrorist!

Fortunately, the article also provides us with a handy dandy little instruction set so we don’t end up on the DHS’s not loyal enough list, presumedly while we’re keeping an eye out for folks who might not know better. Which is good, since my own attempt at doing same got about as far as “loyal citizens stay the hell home”.

So, to be a standup, non-terrorist citizen, here’s what you need to do:

Pack for two weeks if you’re staying for two days. Park your vehicle a safe distance away from the hotel, perhaps across the street or at another hotel. Leaving your vehicle dangerously unattended, walk directly through the main entrance with hands open and displayed in a non-threatening manner.

When registering, present as many forms of ID as possible. Be sure to mention where you work EVEN if no one asks. Brag if you have to. Hand out business cards to the staff. Let the desk clerk know that your stay here is no secret and that your room number should be given to anyone who asks, including those who don’t ask. When asked if you have a room preference, answer with a bright, but unfrightening, “I’ve never had a ‘preference’ in my life! I’m easy to please and an American citizen!”

Head directly to your room, carefully avoiding eye contact with doors marked “Employees Only.” Immediately unpack all of your luggage. Make several phones calls using ONLY the in-room phone. Call the front desk several times so as to avoid appearing suspicious. Return to your unattended vehicle and clone yourself using existing, but non-potentially-dangerous technology. Make no sudden movements and keep your ID and passport displayed prominently. Return one of yourselves to your hotel room, again using the front entrance in a non-threatening, flag-waving manner.

Stay in your room. Use the provided wi-fi. Avoid sites that use any form of encryption. Be careful not to stay in your room too long. When venturing out for something to eat or a non-suspicious conversation with the suspicious staff, avoid stairwells, hallways, exits/entrances, and connecting roads. On second thought, just stay in your room. This will make it easier to avoid being caught up in the middle of a personnel shift change.

If you must leave your room, smile and wave at each and every security camera. Lift your shirt to display lack of weapons, explosives or identifiable scars and tattoos. If purchasing anything from the hotel, use only credit cards, checks or DNA. Return to your room using the most surveilled route. Use the in-room phone to order room service. Turn down the delivery when it comes, stating that you’re trying to keep visitors and deliveries to a minimum. Apologize for not having any cash to tip with, but explain that this lack of cash directly contributes (not monetarily, of course) to the safety of everyone in the hotel. Repeat this apology to housekeeping when they arrive, being sure to answer the door before they get to the second knock. Try to ignore their just-out-of-earshot griping about having to clean around the scattered contents of four large suitcases. Smile in a non-threatening fashion and shrug as if to say, “LOOK AT HOW MUCH I DON’T HAVE TO HIDE.”

If you find that, despite your careful planning, your stay is going to be extended indefinitey, switch hotels. Pack all of your belongings carefully. Police the room for any stray socks, unused condoms or stealable toiletries. Turn the coffee maker OFF (if applicable). Leave in an unhurried fashion, but don’t dawdle. Return to your attended vehicle and (most likely) dead clone. Drive to another hotel, preferably one a non-suspicious distance away and repeat the process. Once you return to your hometown, turn yourself into the nearest authorities for a thorough post-travel debriefing.

On second thought, I don’t care if loyal sitizens stay home. The smart ones who’d rather not deal with Homeland Security sure as hell do. I’ll be cancelling my not fully formed vacation plans now.

This only maybe matters to 1.25 of you, but I found it vaguely amusing. Since the day of its creation, no one could decide whether the .gif file format should actually be pronounced as it’s spelled, or as JIF instead. For whatever reason, the guy what invented it was remarkably silent on the topic–until recently. And he’s apparently quite offended that so many have so willingly mispronounced the word–apparently, the J way’s the right way, and he’d like for people to start using it right the hell now thank you please. Personally, I’ll stick with saying GIF. Sorry, dude. But because somebody thought quickly enough to mock the hell out of it, and because I can’t hope to be that good, have a Youtube video. If someone could steal a screenshot of this and send it to me in JIF–er I mean GIF–format, that’d be awesome. Readers of the RSS or email variety, jump on over to the site and have a watch. I’d make it available to you in your reader of choice, but flash says no. Blame Adobe. It’s good for you.

Most of you have probably already seen some variation of this. The owner of Amy’s Baking Company, in arizona, figures cooking is what she was born to do. She remains so convinced of this that she started, with help from her husband, a restaurant. Just one problem. Pretty much no one who’s ever been there, including the staff, agrees. That hasn’t stopped her, of course, from proclaiming this precisely what God intended her to do–and creating no fewer than a dozen lables for everyone under the sun who’s ever disagreed.

So when Gordon Ramsay, of Kitchen Nightmares fame, agreed to do an episode about her restaurant, she took it as a sign from God. Sheff Ramsay, she said, would prove all the hateful haters who hate dead wrong. Except, of course, for that small part wherein just no (note: Long video is long. It’s why we’re not embedding it here, thanks much.). Instead, everything folks were saying was wrong with this restaurant suddenly became wrong with this restaurant on national TV–and, now, on Youtube. And her reaction? Just keep screaming, screaming screaming. then play the appology card and announce the grand reopening. Because, you know, that works so well.

It must absolutely suck to go for a PR boost like that and have it absolutely blow up in your face. I mean not that I’d know, not being brainless enough to 1: continuously bang my head against a thing I just plain suck at and 2: nearly strangle myself with denial of the reality that I really do suck at it. It’s why you don’t see me anywhere near the kitchen in any capacity but the helpfully helpful. But you do have to wonder at what point it becomes apparent that God’s calling for you might have been a wrong number. If you’re Amy, it might aughta think about being somewhere around now. Mostly because I’m sure even he’s running out of ways to tell her.

That sucking sound you may or may not have just heard is what little of Ottawa’s sanity remains quickly finding and utilizing the nearest exit. While on the bus coming back from dealing with a few things, I was privy to the most interesting of sports related discussions. Interesting in that it almost had very little to do with sports and more to do with money. Fists full of money. We’ve all been fooled, if you’re the guys who were in this conversation.

The National Hockey League is now expecting the playoffs to go the full 7 games, not because it’s good competition and the teams might actually not fall over halfway through for a change, but because it means more money for the NHL and the teams in question. So, you take a Boston, for example, who’s apparently had Toronto’s number all season, and stick them in a playoff round versus Toronto. Then, you tell them, “Look. You guys flatten this team, okay? But that does nothing for us. Let them come back a time or few. Keep them interested. *Then* flatten them. Deal?”. And of course, because the teams get a pretty sizeable chunk of money during the playoffs anyway, both are fine with it.

Now, flash forward to the second round, and you’re a Senators hopeful. If you’re these Senators hopefuls, you’ve already got it figured out but good. Ottawa has the talent to take this thing pretty well all the way, you see. They could slam the door any old time and it’s all over. But that’s less money, and we all know how much the owners love their money. So instead you’ve got Ottawa holding back, while Pittsburgh goes up by 3. Most Sens fans would be a little worried by now. But oh no. These guys have it in the bag. Now, it’s Ottawa’s turn to do the owning–it’s supposed to go 7, after all. So Ottawa does their shtick tonight, then in the next, and eventually ties this thing up. Then, they can max out the money on both sides, give the fans their game 7, and Ottawa can take its much deserved place in the conference finals. Because money, and owners want some, and I honestly have absolutely no freaking clue.

I think, if nothing else, I’ve just unearthed a teeny tiny side-effect of being an Ottawa Senators fan. Having never actually won a cup (the Original Senators don’t count, as this is not the original Senators) leads a select few to unimaginal bouts of desperation. That desperation is quickly followed by a spin off into the land of alternate reality. There is a solution. And it isn’t even a painful solution. And it’s probably much more of a likely outcome than the theory. I just don’t think I’d wanna be anywhere near these guys when it happens.

Because everyone else is doing it (I’m looking at you, Ro and Amanda), I’ve decided to add a splash of trivia to user comments. Sadly it’s not a retroactive thing, but oh well. I’m a fan of drawing attention to me. It’s why I comment. Hell, it’s why I set this thing up–whether I’ll admit that in a week or not. But I’m also a fan of spreading that attention around. So, effective as of about 10 minutes ago, folks commenting on here will have the option–on by default–of having their most recent post added to their comment. Because if you’re reading this thing, odds are you’re in the mood to go wandering and see what else you can find. So why not make it easy? As always, this is kind of a testing thing–if it breaks while you’re using it, you can keep both pieces. Meantime, I’ll try and arange it so it only breaks on every third Sunday after a full moon. Now, to figure out what I did with that other thing I meant to post up here.

So, I’m sitting here nomming on supper, and a thought sort of pokes me in the eye. Well, okay, there’s also that one that says I’ve done this whole neglect the blog thing again, but that one’s always there. Especially when I find things to mock, put them aside, even download local copies of mockables just in the event they run off, then promptly forget to set aside the time to mock. But this one, just for the sake of being there, decides there will be no forgetting to write. And, well, far be it from me to ignore, well, me.

I now have proof. We, as a society, have blown right past screwed and are cruising for a permanent spot in hell. And the fool doing the driving’s got a piss poor sense of irony. Let’s line things up.

• First, a near strike by workers at the LCBO, that only comes to a miss at a little bit past 10 on Thursday night. Keep in mind, they don’t call this May 2-4 weekend for no damn good reason–there’s drinking involved. Lots of it. Well, unless you’re me (I should really fix that). So a strike, by the only folks in Ontario legally allowed to sell anything other than beer, on the weekend where a lot of people tend to go through a lot of anything other than beer, tends to be a wee bit problematic. More than a few people more than likely spent a chunk of Thursday emptying out the store before the boozepocolypse. Which reminds me–I expect to see that $50000000000000000 noted in a much smaller budget shortfall, Ontario government. Lowering the provincial half of the HST wouldn’t hurt either.
• That was the warning shot. Then, on Friday morning, most of the province–and apparently as far out as Cleveland–was earthquaked. Measured around 5.2 at its center, so the folks say, with a 4.2 aftershock about 10 minutes later. No major damage, but then, that wasn’t the plan. That was strike 2.
• Strike 3 happened in Toronto. No, I’m serious. And it’s been happening all weekend. And it’s not about to blow over, on account of the guy at its center’s up and stuck his head in the sand. No, he will not be named. He need not be named. It explains itself.

Image source: Toronto Savvy

You’ll note I’m staying clear away from anything involving Ottawa, senators, Ottawa Senators, and things named Duffy. These misformed beasts can be lumped together under the heading of collateral damage. Not that the train wreck we get to watch now isn’t damage enough all on its own, but you’ll have that. So where does that leave us? Welp, if the conspiracy theorists are right, next comes the firing squad and folks sitting on disability support get a special spot at the front of the line. Me, I prefer to look at it from a different perspective. We’ve all got a one-way ticket straight to hell. Bright side: someone else is doing the driving, so if yall don’t mind too terribly, I think I’ll go get started on the drinking. Hey, it’s cheaper than moron insurance.

I’m one of the many who’ve followed pretty much every one of Demonoid’s attempts at rebirth after a shutdown for copyright or other reasons, so when I saw a notice from some very generous members of Demonoid’s community that said they were bringing the service back as Demonoid2 or D2, I was more than a little curious. And more than a little teeny tiny bit skeptical. Apparently, with good reason–for the few minutes it was actually online, it was malware. But, because it amused me anyway, have the email I received in its barely edited entirety (links need fixing, y’know). If you got a similar email and thought about doing the clicky clicky, 1: good on you for not (you didn’t, right?). And 2: it’s deader than dead now, so clicking on it’s safe. Where safe = “This page cannot be displayed”. And now, because I can, the “Welcome to your new Demonoid!!!!!” email.

From: admin@d2-gatekeeper.net
Sent: May 8, 2013 12:25 AM
To: my@email.removed (I hate spam)
Subject: Demonoid rises from the ashes at last

Dear Demonoid Community Member,

We have all read the same news stories: The Demonoid servers shut down and seized in the Ukraine. The Demonoid admin team detained in Mexico. The demonoid.me domain snatched and put up for sale. The Demonoid trackers back online in Hong Kong, but then disappearing.

We all wanted to believe that Demonoid would be resurrected once again; but it seems that these events have spelled the end of Demonoid as we have always known it. We all waited to see if Demonoid would return, though its now clear that this time its really gone.

Now for some good news: The heart and soul of Demonoid lives on! Through an amazing sequence of unlikely events, the data on those Ukrainian servers has made its way into the safe hands of members of our community and has now been re-launched as d2.vu

Invitations to return are being sent out only to existing Demonoid members, which is the reason you have received this email. For the foreseeable future d2.vu will remain a semi-private site and no new invitations to join will be issued until we are certain that the system is stable. To login, click here and authenticate using your old Demonoid username and password.

Demonoid may be gone, but the community lives on at d2! Welcome home!

Sincerely,
admin

I swear one of these days these’ll get old. That day is not today. From the land of the Google, we get a partial statement. And it even has a degree of truth to it.

Nov 14 11:05am: welfare and odsp create jobs

… For any aspiring social worker, whether you’re actually qualified to be one or not, depending entirely on your definition of qualified. Oh, you were meaning they create jobs for their recipients? Well–no one’s offered to hire me, yet. On second thought, perhaps a call to my case worker’s in order…

If you’ve read the “about me” style pages linked on the left side of this thing, you’ll probably be made vaguely aware that I have this problem (*) wherein vision just doesn’t happen. The same can be said for a few of the folks what read the thing. So it’s with that in mind that a thought type deal’s been circling my head like it’s got nothing better to do. And, oddly enough, it has to do with the very most basic of basic mobility.

Late in 2012, the city of Toronto started a pilot project wherein they placed specific markers at one intersection, as a way for the visually impaired to be able to tell when they’re approaching the street. And, that got me thinking not entirely sarcasticly. Does Toronto have a “blind person wanders into middle of intersection unknowingly” problem that maybe hasn’t been reported, or that places like Ottawa haven’t developed quite yet? It was an honest to goodness question that, well, not having been in Toronto in a number of years I can’t really answer with any degree of accuracy. But having been in all manner of places near Toronto, and well past it, I can say if it has, it would be a new one on me. So I have to ask. What problem is toronto hoping to solve?

I do my fair share of travelling, when I can. Probably not as much as I aught to, but more than your average John Q. Sighted figures me capable of 9 times in 10. I’ve run into some wicked nifty cool intersections that, okay, don’t make themselves blatantly obvious if you happen to be 3/4 the way asleep. But pretty much everywhere I’ve been, be it in Ottawa or elsewhere, has always had some kind of general indicator that, hey guy with the cane, street incoming. The only way you’d miss most if not all of those indications is if you were walking the streets completely and utterly oblivious–and if we’re being honest, John Q. Sighted’s probably a little more guilty about that than he’d like to admit what with the texting and walking and all that jazze. So seeing this project underway pretty much begs the question. What are we not seeing?

Don’t get me wrong. If this solves a problem, I’m all for it. I’m just trying to wrap my head around exactly what problem is being solved, here–and, relatedly, if it’s even a problem at all. I’d assume it is, simply because Toronto isn’t exactly swimming in cash at the moment and is kind of hoping the province will kick in just a little money to help support their transit system (Let’s not touch the fact the province is about as swimming in cash as toronto is, shall we?), so they wouldn’t–you’d hope, anyway–decide to go on a random toss money at a solution and hope it catches a problem. At least that’s the working theory. Because the alternative is a significant number of visually impaired folks in and/or around toronto are somehow asleep at the switch, posing all manner of risks to life and limb–usually their own–for the sole purpose of getting from A to B. And really, that doesn’t come off too pretty either. So I haven’t the slightest. Are the sidewalks in Toronto that bad? Are folks over there that caught up in their whatever they’re doing that isn’t paying the hell attention? Or is this a solution looking for a problem. Inquiring minds are inquiring. Just in case future trips in the general direction of Toronto necessitate I expect random things in my path that are supposed to be warnings. Because nothing says welcome to a new city quite like sidewalks that don’t actually look like sidewalks when you go to actually do things with them. Or maybe I just can’t think like someone from Toronto.

(*): John Q. Sighted tends to see this as a problem. I, rather, can’t see much of anything.

Update to add: I fail at HTML, so the second link on this thing may have slightly broken. It’s since been fixed. Now if I could just have remembered to fix the thing when I was in here fixing other things earlier.

One of the things that keeps me close to Ottawa is that it’s got all of the convenience of a major city, but the atmosphere of a small town. More often than not, that’s a thing that kind of comes out when you least expect it. Like on the first weekend of actual warm weather, when I’m sitting here working on I forget what, and out of the blue, completely from absolutely nowhere–or maybe just around the corner, comes a thing I haven’t heard since I was, we’ll say, 13.

Apparently, I’m not sure if it’s this part of the city or just this community, but somebody from somewhere drives an ice cream truck. And at about quarter past 8 on Saturday, the thing sat in front of my house for a good 20 minutes. Over top of the music, I swear there must have been a good dozen kids out there at any one time. I was halfway tempted to go nab something, if only because again, not since I was maybe 13. Sadly that required both money and the motivation to find something that would have been appropriate to wear even in my front yard, given what would have been my extremely close proximity to the afore mentioned dozen kids. And since I wasn’t sure I had the first and couldn’t be arsed to find the second, I contented myself with sitting here listening. Because really, that’s probably the second best sign of summer in existence–second only to the only solution to 35 above freezing being a vanilla milk shake at a temperature approximately 35 below freezing. That having been said, though, if it’s not a one-time thing I’m storing a stash of quarters in my sock drawer. Because signs of summer, dammit.

I spent 5 years, we’ll call it, in Ottawa altogether, not counting the year I spent in small-town exile. And until now, I had absolutely no clue such a creature even existed in the city–although I did find other small town style things to be mildly impressed at. It’s the kind of thing you don’t much hear about in the major cities, like your toronto, or your Vancouver, or places like that. It’s what Pembroke could potentially be, if it wanted to be. And it’s a thing that goes awesome well with baseball–provided the team what plays the baseball actually shows up (Sidenote: thanks for yesterday. More, please.). And the thing only took 5 years to find. Because huge small town city is huge, and it almost comes off like several smaller towns all slammed together under one moderately disfunctional city council.

Because I can’t hear a thing without sharing, and since this is pretty much what I got to hear for 20 minutes on Saturday, and because my ability to record what I heard was sharply hindered by my lack of decent recording equipment, combined with the above mentioned lack of motivation to find me something worth wearing in that close proximity to kids, have your very own ice cream truck. Because signs of summer, dammit. Yes, even if you’re one of the 7 people still shoveling your driveway this morning (PS: Better you than me.). Anyone have some spare quarters? My sock drawer’s looking a little empty.

I would very much absolutely love to shake this judge’s hand. A judge in Cleveland, in sentencing a woman for driving rather stupidly on the sidewalk to avoid a bus, decided it would be fun to have her advertise her full-blown stupidity. This on top of her having her license suspended for 30 days. So what does he do? For a couple days the next week, he mandates that she spend an hour standing at an intersection holding a stupid sign.

Court records show a Cleveland Municipal Court judge on Monday ordered 32-year-old Shena Hardin to stand at an intersection for two days next week. She will have to wear a sign saying: “Only an idiot drives on the sidewalk to avoid a school bus.”

And all the way to my next amusement I’ll have this in my head. All because of a judge with a sense of humour. Who says there’s never any justice?

I actually had to go looking for this one, after a reader of this thing up and tipped me off. January’s cost cutting that saw the Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP) kill their medical transportation funding on no notice wasn’t their only attempt at trimming the budget at our expense–it was just the only one I took immediate notice to. As it turns out, they’ve been quite slash happy, our beloved provincial government.

A little background. As I’ve said before when discussing this topic, you can’t do much to find work and thus get off ODSP if you’re living in a teeny tiny town who’s bus system consists entirely of one bus going from a mall at one end of the town to a second mall at the other, picking up and dropping off along the way (yes, I lived there). Which is going to necessitate a trip, with permanent residency in mind, to yonder larger than life city (Ottawa, Toronto, Kitchener, pretty much anywhere that isn’t the middle of nowhere). Rent in most of these cities hits ya pretty hard on a good day, to the tune of you’re either getting a roommate, or paying way too much to share a corner of someone’s basement with a bunch of other folks who can probably only slightly better aford to pay too much for the same corner. On what ODSP gives you, even managing that can be a little tricky if you’d still like money left over for things like, you know, food. Or clothing. Or well, pretty much anything that isn’t putting a roof over your head. Coming up with first and last month’s rent so you can move in to the place that’ll suck up most of your money for the foreseeable future, until something vaguely resembling a break falls into your lap? Not happening without a serious amount of external help. That’s where the community startup benefit came in. Or did, until January of this year.

The way this particular system worked was actually fairly simple, if you paid attention. Every two years, you were eligible for up to $800 to be put towards things you actually needed to get your hands on. Like, say, go buy a few halfway decent outfits. Maybe get caught up on a few bills that have had to wait a month or two longer than you’d like on account of some fool jacked up your rent and you’ve had to rebalance things. Or, and this is the use I most often heard it being put towards, paying for at least most of your last month’s rent so you can manage to get yourself out of the less than helpful situation, and into a spot where you can stand a chance at finding work and getting the hell off ODSP. I used it for that last one myself–and that first one before that (I put my first ever benefit money towards clothes, because I was only a few weeks from employment and getting off ODSP myself, for what that turned out to be worth). It meant you could not only secure yourself a better living situation, but could still aford to actually get you and your belongings there, and still have something left over for all the fun things that come with postmove chaos–like discovering that pretty much everything has an activation fee, and the basics really are cheaper in a small town, even if you make up for it in gas to pick them up.

It was an extremely useful system, and one of the few things during a move I didn’t used to need to step on somebody for. Which matches the Ontario government’s criteria for things what get the axe. So, on January 1 of this year, it got the axe. The page that used to contain information related to that benefit has been removed, replaced instead with a statement confirming the removal.

9.2 – Community Start Up and Maintenance Benefit
Removed effective January 1, 2013.

And that’s all she wrote for that program. There are vague mutterings about that program being downloaded to the municipalities, or something else coming out to take its place, but at the moment they’re only vague rumours–the ODSP website’s got nothing, and by the looks of things, neither does anyone who might have an inside track and feel like sharing. So the Ontario government, who spent a good while explaining to me all the wonderful things they’re doing to help us folks on ODSP, has turned around and taken another chunk out of ODSP with nothing to replace it. And once again, the only documentation I can find on it is an obscure corner of their website–the corner linked above–which is more than can be said for their change of heart re: other cost cutting measures, for what that’s also worth.

Like I said before. I get we’ve got a budget situation to deal with. I’m not about to disagree with that. But here’s the thing. This government spent so much time criticising the conservatives for stripping anything and everything they thought they could from ODSP in the 90′s. They spent the majority of their first term and a good chunk of their second making like they were about to up and fix that–they didn’t, naturally, but they do get a B- for effort. Now that the money’s tight (a couple canceled gas plants’ll do that), and folks on ODSP are trying to stay ahead of the small implosion anyone with half a brain knows is coming, the government decides–hey, we don’t need all those extra dollars, so thanks much. Meanwhile the message coming out from all levels of government is the economy’s not back to where it should be yet, so save as much money as humanly possible. I’ll get right on that, government boys. Just as soon as I can properly time things to duck the axe. If you could keep your hands out of my pocket for a year or two, that’d be awesome too. Not happening? Well, I tried.

And sometimes, I keep things around simply because somewhere out there, there probably is someone desperate enough to have tossed this into a legitimate dating site’s search system. With, er, probably about equal results, now that I think of it.

Nov 5 10:52am: hot ass pembroke ont

Somehow, pal, I’m pretty sure this is not the EHarmony you’re looking for. Nice try, though.

Besides. I’m pretty sure someone’s trying ti impress me. Well, finding a way to do this and not get caught would accomplish it.

Oct 30 4:50pm: how to get everything you can from odsp

Let me know how that goes, why don’t ya. In the meantime, I’ll be over here making sure they don’t take what we’ve already got on account of cost cutting. Oh, yeah–and trying to wake my brain. Where’s my caffeine?

So. The Ottawa Senators made the playoffs. In a shortened season. One I’ve personally been avoiding since it became a shortened season. Awesome. This, roughly translated, means that for approximately the first round, the city will very likely shut down almost entirely at game time. Every sports bar, restaurant with a TV, and hell even some bus routes, will be Sens crazy. And me with my personally enforced lockout, and my not even bothering with the Sens when I wasn’t mid-lockout (although I did enjoy watching them get their asses kicked in 2007′s finals, and may or may not have rubbed it in just a little), with little to nowhere to run if I don’t feel like hiding from people or, really, getting much of anything done. Clearly someone hates me. Although, this does now give me my one opportunity to reconsider my personal lockout. Because really, as much as I have a problem with how things were handled this year, nothing is more satisfying than an Ottawa Senators playoff waxing. And if that waxing should come at the hands of my team of choice, I might feel slightly more justified in suspending it for a game or two. Because 2004. Damn you, NHL. You were not supposed to make things this bloody complicated. Or this bloody jammed up. Ah well. Back to memorizing playoff schedules. Sorry, May–we might be delaying an evening outing or two by a day. Blame the Senators. It’s good for you.

So. You’re a me, and you’ve got things to blog. Do you: line everything up in a row and have at them, pile a couple dozen more things onto the list then sort of pluck away at 3, or say screw the whole damn thing and let the posts write themselves? If you guessed C, you spent way too much time in my head. And as you may or may not have noticed, the posts weren’t feeling overly cooperative. But, just because I’ve been slacking doesn’t mean you have. So, nearly a month after I should be, and nearly in time for this month’s edition, the most popular posts of March according to your readership. A few of these are repeats from previous lists. Which… is good. I guess. Means my writing doesn’t suck that hard. either that or you’re incredibly, incredibly bored–but I’ll just hold on to that first one, thanks. Alright, since I fail at distraction, the most popular posts of March, courtesy Google Analytics.

• Yesterday I expressed a little concern with regards Ontario’s government’s treating of the Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP). Sadly, it’s not without its evidence. The most popular post of last month is just such evidence–in the form of a surprise cost cutting maneuver. And it was actually usefully useful, too. Not to mention easier on the already stretched ultrathin pocketbook. But I never claimed these things made sense.
• I love a good conspiracy theory. Always have. The unfortunate events in Boston gave rise to several, not to mention the suspects arrested for attempting to derail a train yesterday. I posted a very interesting Canadian take on a common one–complete with New World Order references and everything. Actually kind of adoreable. And enough of you had an interest in such foolery that it’s managed second on the list–again.
• Bell Canada and I have a thing. I have to use their modem, because it’s the only one actually supported for these internet speeds (I get 25 mbps down). They love to screw with this modem. And I get left with the fixy fixy. Judging by the trafick to this post, I’d guess it’s me and a long line of others. You paying attention, Bell? Didn’t think so.
• Before I moved to the place I’m in now, I lived in a building owned by Paramount Properties. There is, was, and probably will continue to be a hell of a lot wrong with that company, and I haven’t even gotten to publish the rest of it yet–I really should do that. Part 1 of what I’ve already published, on how much effort it actually took to get them to take their rent already, is still generating interest. If you don’t want a headache or two, you don’t want to rent from this company.
• I occasionally like to take shots at ODSP. Largely because of things like a ways up the page. You, apparently, occasionally like to read them. Which explains why this post rounds out the most popular list for the month of March.

Once again, the category where I throw everything related to ODSP has generated all manner of interest this month. Kind of making me wonder if maybe I should be on the lookout for something screwed. But, that aside, there’s the month according to you. I have more mockery and other asorted bits somewhere around here. But right now, I have baseball, goddammit. Happy reading. And hey, if you break it, I’ll let you keep both pieces.

I promised myself I wouldn’t jump on the bandwagon. You know the one. This team’s garbage, not worth the hype, it’s more of the same old same old, you know how that goes. And I’m not going to. But here’s the thing. Defense, for the most part, is good. Pitching is getting there. Hell, even the baserunning’s halfway decent–when they can get guys on base. But the Jays just aren’t even there offensively. Don’t get me wrong. Last night’s game was good. Would have been better if we’d had the 4 and Baltimore had the 3, but you can’t have everything. We’d have probably had that one if they weren’t seeing RA’s pitches as well as they were. But that’s what happens when you’ve got a knuckleballer at the top of your rotation. He’s either going to be wicked good, or wicked bad–there’s no in between. And as a team, there needs to be that support–just in case the ball’s not knuckling enough, or worse, the other team’s seeing it well. Yes, it’s still April. And yes, the Jays have this nasty habbit of absolutely stinking it up in April. This is why I’m not jumping on the bandwagon. But come the end of May, or even the end of June? Then, guys, we’ll need to talk. And I hate talking. So please, at least for this afternoon’s game, don’t leave your bats in the clubhouse. Kay? Thanks much.

I’ve always had a passing interest in politics. Mostly in the following of things. Occasionally, I’ll find some aspect of a party or a specific member that I agree with–but more often than not, I find something to mock. It’s why I’ve never considered myself really right wing, left wing, whatever. Both sides have brilliant ideas. Both sides have moronic ideas. And both sides have more than a few just plain morons. But the thing that keeps me from going from a passive follower of politics to actually being directly involved isn’t a right or left thing. It’s an honesty thing. Specificly, there’s little to none. It’s a disconnect from the majority view, or even a view that a significant number of the common folk have that, if even hinted at by someone with political aspirations, is suicidal.

Take the recent example in BC, of an NDP candidate who was removed from the party over her comments, in 2009, about aborigional people and against bilingualism (she’s running as an independent now). Both have been bandied about by the common folk for years–I, myself, have snarked a time or six on this blog re: bilingualism (see also: Quebec, overfrenchification of). But because she holds these opinions, and wants to actually help fix the province of British Columbia, the two collide and she sinks. All on account of political correctness.

“It’s not the status cards, it’s the fact that we have been paying out of the nose for generations for something that isn’t our doing,” Van Ryswyk wrote on Feb. 11, 2009. “If their ancestors sold out too cheaply, it’s not my fault and I shouldn’t have to be paying for any mistake or whatever you want to call it from MY hard-earned money.”

“I don’t think anyone is saying that wrongs didn’t happen (incredible wrongs). You could have almost any race, group or ethnic people tell you horrible haunting stories of what happened to them. If someone did me wrong, it’s my right to sue … as it is everyone else’s.

“Again, how many Jewish, Polish, Russian, Dutch, etc. walked into a gas chamber, were gunned down, raped, tortured and starved to death. . . tell me how many Germans do you know that are handing over a (portion) of their paycheck EVERY month for what happened NOT very long ago. . .”

There is truth to this. BC’s NDP–and, in fact, just about every other party even federally–might not like it, but that changes a grand total of nothing about its truthfulness. These treaties were signed in the early 1900′s, before Canada was Canada. They were signed with Britain, and as I wrote before, weren’t supposed to be permanent life support. That aborigionals are still beating us over the head with them in 2013, sadly, says more about Canada’s various governments than it does the aborigionals–and the former NDP candidate turned independent acknowledged this fact. The catch? I don’t know very many who’d disagree. The NDP, however, prefers not to hear it.

It’s the same with bilingualism. Federally, the NDP has a vested interest in saying whatever Quebec wants to hear–because Quebec is the reason they’re the official opposition. So if the issue of the week is Ottawa isn’t French enough, the NDP’s all over it. Understandable. Annoying, but understandable. But in BC? French isn’t even the second most common language in the province. Even when I lived there–you were more likely to hear someone speaking Chinese before you would French. But calling out the ridiculousness of it, even after Quebec’s own 54 levels of ridiculous, shoots you in the foot politically–at least if you want to be a member of a party.

On a bilingual Canada in several posts, Dayleen wrote: “I’m getting so tired of getting french stuffed down my throat… this isn’t Quebec it’s western Canada… we speak English here … so does the majority of Canada. When you force it down my throat every time I turn around, it pisses me right off. Seems the only group of people universally hated around the world other than the Americans are the french and the French-Canadians. Their arrogance is astounding … the bigots are the french and not us.”

Example: Canada’s two official languages, as far west as BC and as far east as Nova Scotia, are English and French. Except in Quebec, who’s only official language is French–and they remind us of this every second chance they get. A pretty sizeable chunk of the attendees at just about any event held in BC will speak English, and probably some other language that isn’t French–if they speak multiple languages at all. But when an event comes up that even remotely references Quebec, according to Quebec, you’d better be busting out the French and pronto. That, or be prepared to have the folks across the river spend a year wining about it. Again, Dayleen had a point. And again, she expressed it. And again, it’s something a significant chunk of the common population’s said more than once, and thought way more often than that. And again, consider a career as a member of a political party out of the running as a result.

This is why I have never, and will never, consider a run in politics at any level. I’ve made my share of comments on these two topics myself. And probably several others that’d count against me. All they’d have to do, most likely, is toss a site-specific search into Google for any number of politically correct terms and I’d probably be blacklisted as a candidate. Because the two groups most in need of a swift kick in the rear end are the two you’re least allowed to give one–and everyone on both sides of the equasion knows it. Instead, I’ll just sit back, relax, grab a coke and watch things happen. And in 10 years or so, after we’ve gone through half a dozen more rounds of negotiation with aborigional reserves, and after Quebec’s signature still isn’t on Canada’s constitution as that childish little protest continues, I’ll come back and reread this post. And once again, be thankful I didn’t get the bright idea to jump into politics. I’ll watch from over here, thanks.