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January 31, 2006

There's an old expression, probably

There's an old expression, probably from the British Isles, which used to describe somebody under the influence of a magic spell as being under "a glamour". This was used especially in instances of fairy, or the fae's, involvement.

This type of bewitchment usually involved the victim becoming so enamoured of something or body that they would eventually waste away to nothing on the human plane. There was nothing here that could compete with what the glamour offered.

Nowadays the word glamour is quite a bit more prosaic and is used as an adjective to describe a person's, thing's or lifestyle's affect on us. In some ways of course it still retains its connotations of casting a spell on the observer, as those who are glamorous affect their observers.

What exactly does glamour mean? According to my handy-dandy- pocket Funk and Wagnalls Standard Dictionary glamour (from the Scottish gramarye meaning magic power) is a noun meaning alluring charm or fascination. By extension glamorous means you have those attributes.

If one were to judge the word solely by those definitions it would be easy to consider it quite subjective. Like beauty, glamour should be in the eye of the beholder and individuals free to decide what holds sway over them.

But like beauty, our terms of reference for glamour are dictated by the limitations imposed by societal pressures. In North America our ideals our defined on a daily basis by movies, television and advertisers; we have specific magazines dedicated to telling us who and what are glamorous and why we should want to be like them.

For far too many people their notion of self-image revolves around the message that is delivered by these so – called repositories of the truth. Magazines like People, US, Vanity Fair, and Glamour are all dedicated to propagating the myth of the ideal lifestyle and physical image through their continual detailing of who and what define glamorous.

Not only are their primary content dedicated to the "stars" but the pages are awash with advertisement after advertisement preying on people's desire of becoming just like those featured in the article's pages. It's in this fashion that the lifestyles of the "stars" are made to be important, but even worse, painted as the ideal.

Their fancy cars, their opulent homes, and most of all, their appearances are depicted as being what any sane person should be striving to obtain. The message of you should want to be like them, is perhaps one of the most widely spread and harmful concepts being foisted on the public today.

Not only does it establish unreasonable expectations in regards to measuring your life as a success or failure in the long term, but its impact on how people view their body image has an immediate effect. Young women trying desperately to be accepted with peer groups refuse to believe that the person who they are is worthy, so they look to these images of glamour for guidance. They see pictures of women who have obtained a certain body type through genetics, starvation and surgery and measure themselves against that standard and feel like failures.

At a minimum it will cause them to become obsessed with their appearance enough to worry about the clothes they wear, their hair, and their manner of speech; hiding their own inherent beauty behind imitations of glamour. At worse, if they are already so susceptible, they could develop an eating disorder along the lines of anorexia or bulimia.

Eating disorders are not simply caused by a person's desire to lose weight in order to emulate someone else's appearance; they are far more complex than that. However when combined with the feelings of inadequacy and guilt that are pre-existing in one disposed to being anorexic, it could be enough of a blow to their sense of self to initiate the onset of the disease.

That these conditions exist in our society today is without doubt, one only need look at the success and pervasiveness of magazines and television programmes dedicated to the examination of so-called glamorous life-styles for proof of that. Why they thrive is another matter. How is it that so much of our life has come to revolve around people of so little value to our society as a whole?

None of them are responsible for doing anything to improve our lot by making breakthroughs in science or medicine. Neither is the majority of their endeavours going to be intellectually challenging or artistically inspiring enough to influence future generations. In fact many of them have an influence that only lasts for the briefest of moments.

What kind of "glamour" have they cast over us that holds so many in such a thrall that we fixate on even the least of their kind to the point of obsession? Is there that much dissatisfaction felt by that many people for the lives they lead that it translates into desperately wanting to be someone else?

Perhaps that's it. Look around the world and see how many people have had their childhood dreams dashed. How many people feel like the world has let them down, and that in some manner or another their lives haven't turned out the way they planned it? Working at a job with no prospects for advancement and subject to the whims of people who are higher up on the ladder than you probably wasn't what you had in mind when you left school.

The opportunity to escape, even momentarily, into some fantastical realm of perfectly beautiful people living the ideal of the American dream of making it big, is too tempting to resist. Even to give yourself whatever imitation of that dream you can afford is to allow for some fulfilment, no matter how minor.

It is far easier to fantasize than to actually do something about changing your reality. At the risk of sounding paranoid it is also probably preferred that people remain content with their lots in life and not seek to change their situation. There is a need in society for people to do jobs that service others. There is very little in the way of incentive that can be offered to those people to do those jobs except escape through mindless fantasy.

Pie in the sky rewards of eternal bliss in heaven is no longer sufficient bribery for our consumer driven populous. They need something in the here and now to keep them happy. Vague promises of you too can be a star, and living vicariously through those who are living in that stratosphere, are the inducements offered to satiate the need for instant gratification.

To some of us it may not look like much of a carrot augmenting the whip, but to others the tantalization of fame's potential is too great to resist. Why else would people subject themselves to participating in "reality" television programming or appearing as the subject of a talk show if not for that fleeting chance at the brass ring of celebrity?

In many ways glamour hasn't changed much from that old saying of being under a spell. The power of celebrity and stardom still hold numerous people in thrall. Clothing styles, manners of speech and concepts of physical attractiveness are dictated by those deemed glamorous.

Glamour is something that we are supposed to want to obtain, because it will give us standing and prestige amongst our peers. The fact that it's based on arbitrary standards and superficial ideals is a sad commentary on the state of our society and the manner in which we measure accomplishment.

We can only hope that there will come a day when intellect and integrity are held in the same esteem as physical beauty and material wealth. When that day arrives we will be able to say that we have obtained maturity as a society. Until then we must accept the fact that superficiality has cast a spell over a large proportion of our population and anyone who can, will utilize that to their advantage.

Politicians, the entertainment industry and anybody else wishing to influence public opinion, already make as much use of these circumstances as possible. To some extent we are all under "a glamour" on a daily basis.

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January 30, 2006

In the days of the

In the days of the Roman Empire people used to compete to be awarded positions of responsibility in her various outposts. From one far-flung corner to another plums like Tax Collector and Customs Officer were wildly sought after, even to the point of being passed down from father to son.

Lest you think that the people of the ancient world were filled with a burning ambition to serve their emperor in whatever way possible, those were two of the positions where individuals saw the most potential for the lining of their own pockets with gold. Unlike those higher up in the chain of command these lower offices provided plenty of opportunities for wealth, while requiring little outlay in return.

Unlike the governor, who received a cut from every office by the way, who had to host formal occasions and maintain a sizeable staff, these men were able to operate with a minimum of expenses and a maximum of potential for reward. As long as they weren't stupidly greedy and do anything that would draw attention to their activities that would force authorities to take action, they were set for life.

I'm sure that it was taken to be accepted practice by the central powers, and a studiously blind eye was turned to all such activities. As long as the Empire was getting it's expected return they didn't much care what individuals did out in the field. How else were you going to convince someone to leave the comforts of Rome to go the damp and wilds of Britain if there wasn't the opportunity to come home far wealthier than when you left?

Ten years or so after starting one of these positions a person who played their cards right could be set for life. There was little or no auditing of the books or whistle blowing back in those days. As everybody from the guard at the customs shed to the governor was getting their cut, it was in all their best interests to see that the system was maintained.

So it should come as no surprise to people the recent revelation of the horrendous mismanagement of funds in occupied Iraq. A U. S. government audit has revealed that tens of millions of dollars supposed to be used for the rebuilding of Iraq has either been squandered or is simply unaccounted for.

If one casts one mind back to the days when the American troops first entered Baghdad, while priceless artefacts were being looted from museums, they were standing guard over the offices responsible for the oil industry. This was where the money was going to come from to rebuild the beleaguered country.

With the ouster of Saddam the embargo could be lifted against Iraqi oil. The taps could be turned back on and the money could flow into the country again. It looked to be a foolproof plan. Win the hearts and minds of Iraqis by rebuilding the country, while at the time not costing American taxpayers a cent. How could it go wrong?

Well one way is that the American officials in Hillah responsible for overseeing the project being unable to account for $97 million of the $120 million in oil revenues earmarked for the reconstruction. No records seem to have been kept; tens of millions of dollars are reported to have gone in and out of the South Central region's vault with nobody having any idea of who, where, what, or why.

What's actually sort of scary is this audit has only focused on the one region of the country, for one fiscal year, 2003-2004. Inexperienced American occupation officials, many of them people who had worked on George Bush's campaign, were responsible for organizing this "hearts and minds campaign" aimed at winning over the Iraqi people.

Things are so bad that of the $23 million in oil revenues the project officials claim they can account for; there exists paper documentation for only $8 million. One must assume that the other $15 million has been accounted for orally as in "Joe took four of us for lunch, and it cost $50,000" or something similar.

Than of course there are the records of how some of the money was spent, or was supposed to have been spent, and that's just as damming as the missing amounts:


  1. An American service man took as much as $60,000 and gambled it away in the Philippines.
  2. an agent keeping $700,000 in an unlocked footlocker.
  3. an elevator repaired at Hillah General Hospital for $662,800 that then crashed and killed three people.
  4. the pipes of the Olympic sized swimming pool "repaired" for over $100,000 and still pouring out brown sludge.
  5. only a quarter of the $23 million dollars entrusted to civilian and military project and contracting officers ever found its way into the hands of contractors.
  6. a contractor paid $14,000 four times for the same project.
  7. a contractor for a library only delivering 18 of 68 personal computers that they were paid for.
  8. of $7.3 million spent on a police academy, $1.3 million was spent on unneeded construction or materials never delivered and $2 million is missing.
  9. two field agents responsible for paying contractors left the country never accounting for nearly $700,000 each(they've never been identified and when the auditors confronted their manager he tried to give them fake paperwork)
  10. U.S led security transaction command spending $945,000 for seven armoured Mercedes-Benzes that were too lightly armoured for Iraq. Auditors have only been able to account for six of the cars.
South Central Iraq is the least contentious area of the country in that there has been little or no trouble. Audits for other more troublesome areas are still on going. The Special Inspector General for Iraq Reconstruction has been conducting the audits for the Pentagon and the State department. These preliminary results show that whatever the intentions of the people involved with the project, it's been an abject failure.

People on the ground over there aren't stupid. How much of the continued insurgency is connected to the fact that conditions aren't improving for civilians as they had been promised? If in areas where there is little or no hostility and work is being done so shoddily that locals are actually dying what do you thing their reactions are going to be?

The majority of the contractors are foreign. If not American operations, than other members of the coalition and their allies, and they are showing themselves to be more interested in carpet bagging than actually doing any work.

In this sort of situation appearances are just as important as anything else, and according to these reports not only are there no visible results but it looks like nobody actually cares about rebuilding the country.

To the people of an occupied country that can only lead to mistrust of the people who are claiming they are there to be helping them. How would you react to this situation if you were a local? If you saw money that was being made by your country's revenues being shared out amongst foreign profiteers who seemingly have no interest in using it for its intended purpose, wouldn't you be a little miffed?

Unlike the Roman Empire of old the American government is a democracy and the people who work for it can be held accountable for their actions. Already the auditors have requested the American Ambassador to recover over $570,000 of misspent money and recommended that criminal charges be laid against certain individuals.

But it appears that millions of dollars will never be recovered and some people are getting off Scott free. Will the actions of the Inspector General be enough to reassure the Iraqi people that this sort of behaviour will not be tolerated and overcome the mistrust that has generated?

A lot depends on how much further the rot has spread. If this was an isolated series of incidences that has not been pervasive through out the country, than trust can be won back. But if it is widespread, it looks as if the American forces could be tied up in Iraq for a good long time. Without the trust of the people, anything connected to the occupying forces is automatically suspect, lending credence to the arguments of the insurgents.

If George Bush wants to have Iraq wound down before he retires from office, a priority needs to be the salvaging of the reconstruction program. As long as it appears as a means for Americans to line their pockets at Iraqi expense the country will never be pacified.

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January 29, 2006

Now that the dust is

Now that the dust is settling on the whole James Frey Million Little Pieces fiasco I'm beginning to think that we owe this guy a debt of gratitude. Maybe with the way this whole thing has blown up in the publishing industry's face we'll finally see an end to peoples' desire to tell us all about their misery.

If there's one thing I've hated more and more in the past few years is the way the word "share" has been used. All somebody has to do is tell me they want to "share" something with me and I start looking for an exit.

It used to be such a nice word you know, implying consideration and generosity. Somebody would offer to share their good fortune, their cookies, or some other treat; it was one of the virtues we were all taught about as children. Sharing stuff with your best friend meant you would give them a chunk of you candy, not dump on them.

Now when someone offers to share something with you it's some sort of personal experience that they feel compelled to tell you about. Wasn't sharing supposed to be something you did which had no strings attached that showed your appreciation of the other person? It was about giving something away to make somebody else feel special.

Instead they now pour forth some tale of woe, or courage, or perseverance and we're supposed to be uplifted and inspired by their fortitude and heroism. Of course they also just happen to become the centre of attention, but that's just incidental isn't it? Now who's making who feel like they're someone special?

Have you ever watched one of these people being interviewed on any one of daytime talk shows? The cameras cut between the teary eyed guest on the couch talking to their confessor of the moment and a concerned face in the audience. The audience reactions have become Pavlovian to the point of ridiculous. They respond to their cues better than most actors gracing the small screen these days.

What's even better is when the host of whichever show it is offers to share the story with their audience. Excuse me; you're going to share someone else's misery with us? My how generous of you. Who is it this week, a rape victim? Boy the milk of human kindness must just flow through your veins letting everybody out there in television land hear all about somebody's worst nightmare.

The audience is there for the same reason people like to stop and look at accident scenes: they want to see blood and bodies. It's a chance to show how compassionate they are, by saying: "Oh isn't that horrible" but without having to do anything about it. It's like writing a check for a charity to feed the starving; it relieves your conscience without forcing you to have to do anything about the problem.

For the people who are the subject of these shows there's the obvious attraction of being the centre of attention. But something I've noticed in people I've known who have been the victims of some sort of abuse, including myself, is that at some point early in their recovery, they have a bizarre compulsion to tell almost everybody they meet what's happened to them. This is just an extreme instance of the same need.

I don't know whether it's searching for sympathy or testing people to see what their reactions will be. In some instances it's also a way of fighting back against the abuser who may have forced you to be silent for years. Any time you tell somebody it's another blow for freedom.

But there's nothing selfless in the act of telling other people. I remember too well the faces of people I used to spring it on. The only sharing that's going on is of the horrors of the experience and that's not exactly what I'd call generous. "Oh wow what a treat, I got to hear all about how Sally was gang raped by her brothers when she was nine today" That's just not the same thing as being given half a chocolate bar at recess by your best friend.

Sure if a friend feel safe and comfortable enough with me to be able to tell me of some horror from their past, I'm honoured that they have that confidence in me. Although that's still not the same thing as sharing as far as I'm concerned, it’s a whole lot better than these public confessionals that we're subjected too now in the form of memoirs and talk shows.

This has been a huge industry that first started to see the light of day with the old "Donahue" show back in the seventies. But even at the height of his popularity I doubt he would have believed the influence these shows would eventually have on popular culture.

Appearances on "Oprah", and to a lesser extent any of the other shows, lend an author instant credibility if not bestseller status. Through these shows focus on "human interest" type material a market was created for a genre of book that had not really existed before. The tell all, baring of the soul, memoir whose purported purpose is to provide an example of how to change one's life around.

For quite a period of time these stories have been taken at face value and nobody has questioned their accuracy. Audiences and readers have lapped them up to the tune of millions of copies sold and publishers have been riding the wave to the bank. They’re not going to care one way or another if the author plays a little fast and loose with the truth, all that matters is it's place on the best seller list.

But now it looks like they've killed, or at least severely wounded, their cash cow. First it was James Frey being exposed, now it's Nasdijj, a writer of supposed Navajo decent, come under fire. The publication LA Weekly has published an article offering proof that he is actually a white man named Timothy Barrus, a writer of gay and straight pornography.

He's written three memoirs detailing a life of poverty and deprivation growing up as a poor half-breed Navajo whose mother died when he was seven. He claims to have suffered from foetal alcohol syndrome, adapted a son who suffers from the same problems, and recites a litany of woes, misdeeds, and hardships throughout his books. It's interesting to note that both his publisher and his literary agent severed their relationship with him in 2004, but will only say it wasn't because of issues to do with his background.

As of yet "Nasdijj" has not issued any response to these allegations. But a film producer who was interested in adapting his first book has dropped the project after learning of inconsistencies in the story and the author's resistance to fact checking.

The doctoring of memoirs has a long and distinguished history and it's always been for the same purpose: for the self-aggrandizement of the author. In the past it has taken the form of claiming to have witnessed historic events, or done heroic deeds but today's false historians go in the opposite direction.

But thanks to Mr. Frey these types of stories might start taking a hit in their popularity. Publishers are going to be a little more circumspect and take longer looks at manuscripts according to Ashbel Green, a senior editor at Alfred A. Knoff: "I think for a while, this will make people careful" she's quoted as saying in the Globe and Mail.

Lets hope that this carefulness will also begin to extend to the public, and that people's appetite for "shared" stories will begin to wane. Maybe then the bestseller lists will be able to list fiction as fiction and non-fiction as non-fiction and not have to worry about something that falls half way between the two.

I'm hopeful that Mr. Frey's true legacy will be that he marked the beginning of the end of sharing oneself, and we can all go back to sharing chocolates and comics.


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January 28, 2006

Do you remember those



Do you remember those old high school exams where they would give you quotations from somebody or other in reference to something you had been studying? You'd get this quote and than underneath it would be one word: Discuss.

Well I'm going to play that little game on myself today. There was a great quote in the Globe and Mail today about the state of pop culture from one of the stars of the past. Roseanne.

…It's boring and dull and so prescribed and handpicked. Everybody looks exactly alike. And acts exactly alike. There's no colour, no anything. Look in the magazines. Every girl looks like every other girl, they bore me to death. I'm barely interested in my own life, let alone other peoples'. Especially the young, they have nothing to say whatsoever. They're distractions. They do the job they're supposed to do: Keep everybody from noticing what's going on. It's the whole dumbing-down thing. Roseanne Barr Globe and MailSat. Jan. 28, 06
Before I get started on this process I should admit that I've always had a great deal of respect for Roseanne. True near the end of her career in the spotlight she started to become almost a parody of herself, and I don't think I could ever quite forgive her for foisting Tom Arnold on the world. But I prefer to remember the early years of her T.V. show before either she or John Goodman became famous.

I don't think there has ever been a show quite like "Roseanne" for its willingness to fly in the face of pretty and generic. Long before Drew Carey and Cleveland, there was Roseanne and Milwaukee. Carey's show was much more conventional than Roseanne in its style of humour and the way it mocked people of that lifestyle. There was always the feeling that we were supposed to laugh at these working stiffs instead of empathise with them.

"Roseanne" was different in that you laughed at things that happened on the show, but hardly ever were the characters held up for ridicule. Their problems were the problems faced by so many people in North America; unemployment, teenage marriages, the struggle to make ends meet, and all the other facets of life that had never shown up on television before.

Roseanne herself was like a breath of fresh air (okay more like a typhoon) just by being who she was and not making fun of it. She had to be the first woman of size on television that was shown to be sexually active and the object of physical attraction for a partner. The best thing about that it was never made into a big deal. It was just the attraction between a husband and wife like on any other sit-com.

Long before it became fashionable "Roseanne" opened the closet door on her show and had a Lesbian as a main character. The show dealt with issues that were hardly ever seen on television, and not just controversial ones, but real ones.

Breast reduction surgery is not something that one sees talked about very often, but as with a lot of large women Roseanne's character was faced with having to undergo that procedure for her health. The whole episode was dealt with in the show's usual mix of humour and good taste, so as an audience we were able to appreciate what a woman faced with this procedure goes through emotionally and mentally.

Roseanne and her television family were some of the realest people you were liable to see in prime time. There still hasn't been a live action family that has come close to capturing as truthful a depiction of life for lower middle class Americans as this show did. It may have helped people find humour in their daily lives, but there is no way this show could have been considered a distraction from everyday reality.

Which brings us back to Roseanne's quote that started this whole post about pop culture just being a distraction from the real world. There's two ways that one could look at that statement. The first is to say, well yeah, isn't that the point of pop culture anyway, to provide light entertainment and not have any basis in reality.

If you're of that mind, well the argument has nowhere to go, because you can just agree with her assessment and get on with watching television and blocking out the world. To be honest there's a lot of truth in that sentiment anyway. Many is the time I've made the conscious decision to watch a movie that is deliberately escapist so that I don't have to deal with mine or the world's reality.

But where that argument falls down is when you consider how many people don't make that conscious choice, but simply park themselves in front of the television and stop thinking. It's not even the watching of the programming that is necessarily the distraction; it's the hype that surrounds the so-called celebrities that appear on all these shows.

The media's obsession with the ins and outs of relationships, weight gain and loss, and all the other minutiae of these unimportant lives that is passed off as vital news. The fact that this artificial world of film, T.V., and music stars garners so much attention is how it acts as the distraction. People get far more caught up in the wedding of two people who appeared on a reality show then they do in the fact that people go to bed hungry at night.

Roseanne never played by the rules when she was in the spotlight and was roundly criticized for some to the things she did. She now says that during that time she "went a little crazy" from being at the centre of things. She too came in for her share of tabloid press with her marriages and divorces, and sometimes-odd behaviour.

In her quote she makes pop culture and the distractions it creates sound like a deliberate effort on the part of somebody somewhere to influence the way we think. The thing is Hollywood has always operated in this manner. Since the early days of silent film they have always tried to make sure that the stars are kept in the public eye one way or another. How else can they sell tickets to movies?

The media, the studios, and the stars are all in on it together. It's a symbiotic relationship in that they depend on each other for survival. The media needs the stars to report on, the stars need the media to keep their names prominent in the public eye, and the studios need the stars kept prominent so they can sell tickets, DVDs and merchandising rights.

It's in all of their best interests to make us think they are important. They sell us on how wonderful it is to be a star, and wouldn't you love to have their glamorous lifestyle. People watch and dream of being something other than what they are. The product is almost secondary; the real show is the lives of those involved in its making.

Does that make popular culture the big villain when it comes to distracting the public from the reality the world faces on a daily basis? In so far as it being a deliberate "Bread and Circuses" ploy by anyone, I don't think so. For the simple reason that the whole system is beyond anyone's control.

It's become such a firmly entrenched part of our social fabric that it exists in spite of the social climate not because of it. We could be living in an ideal world with no war, no illness, no crime etc, and we would still have The National Enquirer, starlets, and studio executives.

I'm no big fan of the whole system or much of what gets telecast or played on the radio. I can understand Ms. Barr's complaints about the state of things in pop culture. But I don't see it as being a deliberate attempt on anybody's part to distract the public from the woes of society. The people involved in the industry are far too self-centred to be able to see beyond fulfilling their own needs to think about anything else.

Unfortunately the whole pop culture industry is pretty much a monster of our own making. It would be nice to blame it on somebody else, a plot to make society dumber, but that's simply not the case. Pop culture exists to sell itself and nothing more, if nobody were buying it would change itself immediately.


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January 27, 2006

One of those great pop

One of those great pop psychology sayings that's making the rounds a lot these days is that anger is actually grief in disguise. Maybe that's what meant by someone giving you grief when they piss you off? I don't know. But if there is any truth to that sentiment than I must be feeling one hell of a lot of sadness over the way people with disabilities are treated.

Actually saying that I'm angry (or grieving, insert which ever you prefer, I'm going to stick with anger. What feeling like ripping someone a new one has to do with crying I haven't quite figured out yet) over the way disabled people are treated isn't quite accurate. It implies that people actually consider them when they make decisions. The truth of the matter seems to be that disabled people don't even merit any thought.

Oh sure you'll see the occasional wheelchair ramp to get into a building, or handicapped parking (two spots out of three hundred and they are usually occupied by someone who's just stopped in for a second so didn't think it would matter that they used the handicap spot), and even Braille numbers in elevators. (If a blind person doesn't know they're there in the first place how are they going to "see" them to use them?)

But quite frankly that's just like fancy wood veneer covering rotten wood. There's nothing of substance underneath that façade of caring. Somehow or other the disabled manage to slip off most people's radar screens when they talk of minorities. Maybe it's because disabilities don't limit themselves to any one group of people. They have the best affirmative action program going. There is no convenient label to stick on ability discrimination like there is for race, sex, and religion.

Maybe I've just put my finger on the problem. With no label people are lost. How can there be systemic discrimination against people with disabilities if there is not catchy word for it? Hell they even have one now for discriminating against people due to their age. If you can't accuse somebody of something like abilityism than you may as well not even bother trying to point out the problem.

Does that sound a little cynical and sarcastic? Well it's hard not to be sometimes in the face of what's encountered on a daily basis by people with disabilities that able-bodied people probably don't even have to think about.

Here's one for you; what do you do with your cane when you go out for dinner? You can't leave it at the coat check (if there is one) because you're going to need it to get to the bathroom (up or down a flight of stairs). Which leaves what? Propping it against the table where it can fall down and trip waiters. Laying it on the floor under the table where it's not very accessible and easily stepped on?

That may not seem like a big deal but it's just one more extra thing that disabled people have to concern themselves with. It's those little things that really add up and end up being the most frustrating. You've already had to adopt to so many new ways of doing things on a personal level, that finding out there's no recognition of the difficulties faced when you're in a supposedly public venue, it makes you feel like people would have been happier if you'd just stayed at home.

Have you ever watched an elderly person trying to negotiate one of those so-called access ramps with a walker? Going up isn't so bad, even though the incline is a little severe. It's the coming down that always looks so precarious. I swear it looks like they're about to fall half the time because of how quick the ramp speed becomes. Some of them look like they've been designed by the same folk who make the ski jumps for the Olympics.

I suppose you can't really blame the private sector for their attitudes, they take their cues from the government and the way they treat disabled people. As far as I can tell the disabled seem to be viewed by many levels of government as just another means for collecting revenue.

A few years ago the government of Ontario enacted some new legislation for the benefit of disabled people. While there was some monies set aside for what they call programming (occupational therapy jobs like stuffing envelopes for minimum wage) the major focus of it was too increase fines for illegal use of handicapped facilities. There were no monies put into assisting with the day-to-day cost of surviving.

In Ontario the income support program for disabled people (Ontario Disability Support Payments or O.D.S.P.) had been frozen since 1993 without an increase. In the winter of 2005 a 3% increase was finally approved. That may sound all right, but consider that landlords were allowed to increase rents by 2.9% that year and all of a sudden it's vanished.

It's not even as if it were going to be a regular cost of living increase either; just a one time deal to make it look like the government was more compassionate than its predecessor. Of course a lot of people would probably have to use their left over .1% to pay for physiotherapy costs that were no longer going to be covered by provincial health insurance.

Just to show that they're no slouches in ignoring the disabled either, the federal government got into the act. Just before the election was called all four parties got together to work out a deal so as to fast track legislation through the house to get people on fixed incomes a heating fuel rebate.

These one time checks were to help offset the extraordinary heating fuel costs that had come about this winter due to Katrina and other circumstances. Somehow they seemed to forget that disabled people are on fixed incomes. They only designated seniors surviving on government pensions, and parents who were poor enough to receive a special child benefit check as being eligible for this assistance.

Maybe they thought disabled people don't get as cold as other people? Like if the have nerve damage or something they can't feel their extremities anyway so what do they need heat for? Ah well if worse comes to worse we can always have a bonfire with our crutches and canes. I don't know would firewood be considered an aid for living like one of those bars in the bathtub you can use to climb in and out with? If so than we could apply to the government to pay for it through programming.

What I find really puzzling about the whole situation of ignoring disabled people is how they can miss us. Most disabled people come with some sort of accompanying props: crutches, canes, walkers, and wheelchairs are the ones most commonly seen. You'd think that would make it easier to notice that disabled people exist.

But it actually seems to work in reverse. It's amazing how few people notice either a wheelchair or the fact that somebody inhabits it. I've seen people literally lean against the back of a wheelchair, not even aware that they are pretty much sitting on somebody's back. Or wait patiently while a person struggles with pulling a door open because their hands are occupied with a cane and parcels, and not realize they could use some help.

If I were to use this behaviour as a yardstick for people's awareness of the disabled in general, I guess it should be no surprise that governments seem to overlook our existence as well. At least the general public and the private sector make no claims to the contrary and I've seen enough individuals go out of there way in an attempt to help and assist people to compensate for those who ignore us.

The hardest part of making the transition from being able bodied to disabled is learning to accept your limitations. Until you reach that point of acceptance you are in a state of perpetual frustration. Even then you are continually chafed by the restrictions imposed upon you by a body that's betraying you.

This is not a state of mind conducive to an even temper and forgiveness on most days. When this is compounded by the attitudes displayed by all levels of government, and by a good chunk of society I think I do a remarkably good job of keeping my temper in check. Of course I notice they don't have handicap elevators or ramps leading up to bell towers…


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January 26, 2006

There's something about certain

There's something about certain depictions of the American South of the 1920's and 30's that reminds me of 19th century gothic/romance novels. I don't know if Brontesque is a word; as in reminding one of Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, but the air of mystery and gloom that seems to surround old decrepit plantations certainly can give the moors a run for their money.

The South may lack the fogs and crags for people to get lost in or fall down, but it has its own share of dangers. Mysterious swamps filled with ghosts and spirits ready to steal your soul. Not to mention more down to earth dangers like rattle snakes whose bite can kill you or bogs that could swallow you whole.

Heat and humidity are every bit as oppressive as cold rains and mists, and poor dissipated Southern gentry can have just as many secrets as their brooding English counterparts. Change the mysterious old faithful servants from white to black, and the brick manor house with drafts to a disintegrating pre civil war plantation house and the transition is complete.

Other Voices, Other Rooms incorporates all those elements down to including an innocent to be the witness to the how far the mighty have fallen. The movie is based on Truman Capote's work of the same name; his first published novel, and was originally released back in 1995. While re-releasing it now may seem like a cynical attempt to cash in on the newly released feature Capote, it would have been a shame for this work to be lost.

Although it's almost redundant to say, since most of his work can be classified as such, this first novel of Capote's was semi-autobiographical. It tells the story of a boy, Joel Sampson (played by David Speck) and the summer he is temporarily reunited with his father.

Ten years before the movie takes place Joel's father had mysteriously abandoned him and his mother. As the movie starts Joel's mother has just died and he is living with his aunt and uncle. Out of the blue they receive a letter from Joel's dad asking that the boy be sent to live with him.

Joel's father is living on an old plantation that looks like it hasn't seen any upkeep since before the civil war. When Joel arrives he is met by an old black man named Jesus Fever (Leonard Watkins), who delivers him from the bus to the Skully plantation in an old beat up horse and cart. The horse and cart are appropriate because we seem to have traveled backwards in time when we arrive at the plantation. No plumbing or electricity are used, and history weighs heavy on the buildings.

Joel is met by the lady of the house, Amy Skully (Anna Levine) who along with her cousin Randolph (Lothaire Bluteau) are the last remnants of their family living on the estate. Aside from their servant Jesus they also have a young black woman Zoo (April Turner) working for them as cook and maid.

Joel's demands to see his father are rebuffed by both Amy and Randolph, with the excuse that he is too sick, and instead Randolph strives to amuse and entertain the young boy. It's obvious that he has no idea of what to do with a child, or what interests them, but since Randolph is fascinated with Randolph, he figures everybody must be.

When Joel finally does get to see his father he finds him to be bedridden and unable to move. He wants to know what's going on and why it was the Randolph wrote the letter pretending to be Joel's father. Randolph says that neither he nor Amy could bear the thought of their dear friend's son, now hopelessly ill, growing up an orphan.

Randolph seems almost desperate to amuse and befriend Joel. He regales him with stories of fancy dress balls and the time Joel's father and him spent in Havana. Joel's father was a boxing promoter and they were touring with one of his prizefighters Pepe, and Randolph's girlfriend, Dolores.

But complications arose one night after a fancy dress ball, when Dolores dressed Randolph as Marie Antoinette, and he spent the whole night dancing with Pepe. While Randolph was falling in love with Pepe; Dolores and Pepe were having an affair.

Randolph is charming and irresponsible; melodramatic and flamboyant; and incredibly self-indulgent. But he is able to win Joel over as a friend and companion and gradually brings him into his world. They have fun together painting and reading and gradually Joel comes to accept Randolph as a sort of surrogate father/best friend.

We know there is something rotten at the heart of all this charm. The run down plantation house with its chipped plaster and paint peeled walls is too indicative of something decaying for the place to be healthy. Overgrown with weeds the life is being choked out of the grounds, just as the people living there are slowly suffocating.

Lothaire Bluteau's (best known for his starring role in Jesus of Montreal) depiction of Randolph is magnificent. He is easy to love and despise all in the same breath. He is like a child who has continuously been given his own way, and had every wish indulged when through no fault of his own, he all of sudden finds the carpet pulled out from under him.

Amy is so brittle she looks like she could smash into a million pieces at any moment. She is resentful of being asked to do the things Randolph has her doing to preserve their secret, and jealous of the time he spends with Joel. In the end she is the one who spills the secret that they've been hiding, not because of any remorse, but because she's tired of not being the centre of attention.

Anna Levine is not given much to work with Amy, it would be easy to play her as one long whine, but she manages to get beneath that surface and show the genuinely lost person under the petulance. When Randolph pays attention to her, she is suffused with happiness, and Ms. Levine is able to give us glimpses of what Amy could have been if she had not been deprived of her potential.

David Speck as young Joel is very convincing. His reluctance to befriend Randolph wars with his love of the exotic and make believe. David is able to show the conflicts that Joel has with wanting to live this strange live with Randolph and Amy, while at the same time realizing there is something wrong.

The contrast between Joel's almost adult nature and Randolph's irresponsibility in the scenes they share, show just dysfunctional the Skully clan are. When an eleven year old boy is the practical one offering advice to the adults, you know the world is inverted.

This is well directed and well scripted adaptation of a straightforward story by Truman Capote. There's nothing really fancy; no big stars or special effects. Just that rarest of things these days; a nice well acted movie with a good story, and technically pleasing to the eye.

That may not seem like much, but in these days of multibillion-dollar epics and overblown characters, (on and off the screen) it's nice to be reminded that there are still movies out there content to tell a story. Other Voices, Other Rooms is a pleasure to watch from start to finish for that very reason.

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January 25, 2006

What if every night

What if every night you relived the destruction of the world as it happened two thousand years ago? What if you and those who shared those dreams were the only people who believed that those events had actually occurred? If it was your job, along with those few others, to track down every rumour that could potentially signify the return of the evil that would bring about a second apocalypse: could you do so in the face of the scorn and disbelief of the whole world?

In the first two books of his trilogy The Prince of Nothing; The Darkness That Comes Before and The Warrior Prophet, R. Scott Bakker introduced readers to just such a man. Drusas Achamian is a sorcerer, or as they are known in the world of the Three Seas, a schoolman. Of the four schools of sorcery: The Mandate, The Scarlet Spires, The Imperial Saik, and The Mysunsai, only Drusas' Mandate fellows and himself retain the memory of the end of the world.

We have walked with Drusas into the midst of a holy war; a crusade whose leader he has been ordered to investigate on suspicion that he is a harbinger of the second apocalypse. Although he is unable to gain access to Maithahet, the initial impetus behind the war, he finds signs of the return of the Mandate's great enemy amongst the combatants.
thousandfold thought
The Skin Spies can assume the shape of another person and live behind their assumed body's face. They have superhuman strength and are extreme perversions of humans. Even more alarming, if possible, is his discovery of a man named Anasurimbor Kellhus amongst those gathering to march in the crusade.

It was an Anasurimbor who marched through the first apocalypse and Drusas must discover if this man from the forgotten Northlands where the ancient kingdoms lay is the one who will be the cause of the second cataclysm. By the beginning of The Thousandfold Thought, book three of the series, all signs are pointing towards Anasurimbor being along the same lines as his forbearer.

He has been elevated by the lords and nobility of the crusade onto the rank of prophet and has won over complete control of their hearts and minds. He has even succeeded in wining Dusas's confidence sufficiently for him to teach him the sorceries of The Mandate School; by far the most powerful of all the schools.

It is Kellhus' ability to discern the Skin Spies and destroy them that wins Drusas over to his side. Even though he is filled with misgivings about teaching him the songs of power, or Cants, he is unable to see another option. Almost against his will he has been forced to believe in the man's abilities and power.

In the Thousandfold Thought R. Scott Bakker continues to spin his complex tale of magic, religion and philosophy. The world he has created offers a fun house mirror of our own history. Everything is suspiciously familiar but is distorted or exaggerated beyond the normal into an almost grotesque caricature of events that have occurred in our own world.

Men of power had plotted and conspired to show they were best suited to serve the god by leading the armies. But they have all fallen by the wayside with the coming of Kellhus into his glory. He has supplanted all other leadership through the simple expedient of being able to see people's true motives, and speaking them aloud.

It has been his plan all along of course to take over the crusade from back in The Darkness That Comes Before when he first heard of it. How else was he supposed to go deep into the territory of the heathen? But Bakker throws a twist into the works, and has us wondering, with those who follow him; could this guy be for real?

When we see him through the eyes of Drusas we don't want to believe in him or worship him, but we do anyway. Through the eyes of Cnaiur the barbarian, he is a devious liar that will twist you inside out by knowing exactly what you will do before you do it. But even through the eyes that despise him there is no denying the power of Kellhus.

Has Kellhus become that which everybody wants him to be? How does destiny work anyway is what Bakker seems to be asking. When Kellhus sets out from his people's retreat at the beginning of the trilogy to answer the summons of his father, what wheels were set in motion by that simple act? How come there was a crusade just waiting for him to lead that suited his purposes ideally?

Even his monastic training in the understanding of the way in which men think based on what came before shows no precedence for his power and abilities unless he is the harbinger of the second apocalypse. For what else is there that came before that would allow for this future to happen?

Kellhus manipulates those around him, but with such apparent innocence and lack of guile; he's doing it for their own good after all; that as the reader, you are susceptible to his powers as well. But the question remains, is he the Warrior Prophet because that is who he is, or by playing the role of the Warrior Prophet does he ascend to that position without meaning to?

Bakker's characters are not simple constructs of good and evil. The pious are guided into unspeakable acts of evil in the name of their god. The demon skin spies are manifestations of perversion but are fighting a holy war of their own which is every bit as sacred to them as the one fought by the humans.

Of them all Drusas seems to be the most honest and human in his emotions and ambitions. He is the everyman of the novel questioning, but wanting to believe. As a Mandate schoolman he has grown used to being singular in his beliefs and considered a pariah.

But being alone wears on a person and he had fallen in love earlier in the series with a prostitute named Esmenet. She in turn had given up her profession and sworn devotion to Drusas. But when he was kidnapped and presumed dead, she sought comfort in Kellhus' arms and when Drusas returns he finds her elevated in status to Consort of the Prophet.

Even then he resolves to teach Kellhus as he is the one who has finally proven the Mandate to have been right after all these years. Perhaps he will be the one who cleanses the world of their enemy since he can detect the Skin Spies where others cannot.

As far as Drusas can tell Kellhus will either prevent the apocalypse or be it; he knows the risk he takes is unimaginable but he sees no other choice. As the Crusade and Kellhus move closer to their final confrontations with the heathen armies and his father Kellhus has learnt what he requires.

For the final battle Bakker brings in everything that has come before into play. Under the sands of the final battleground are thousand year old catacombs that had housed the creatures of the first apocalypse. While the battle rages for the city above his head Kellhus confronts his father below.

What is an apocalypse? Does the world have to physically be destroyed, or just redefined and rewritten? Is not every major shift in thought and civilization apocalyptic in that a world of thought and attitudes are always being supplanted by another?

In The Prince Of Nothing R. Scot Bakker has created a fascinating study of how thoughts and beliefs are shaped and formed. But these are not books of philosophy they are stories of people, war and magic. The Thousandfold Thought, like its predecessors, is the work of a masterful storyteller.

Bakker's characters have depth and dimension beyond what is usual for fantasy. It seems we have entered a new era of fantasy; where authors are taking care to create characters that can join the pantheon of fictional heroes that has been built by "serious novelists".

With these three novels Bakker joins the ranks of Erickson, Banker, Scott and Barclay as part of a wave of fantasy authors who are breaking down the barriers between fiction and fantasy. Without pretension they set out to tell the their stories and in doing so create whole new possibilities for the genre.

R. Scott Bakker has created a world which is both recognizable and alien simultaneously. His plots, while intricate are not convoluted; his characters are complex and not cartoons; and his writing is though provoking and challenging without being deliberately obtuse. The Thousandfold Thought is the masterful conclusion to a trilogy of the highest order. I can only hope that Mr. Bakker will soon create more worlds for us to discover.



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January 24, 2006

Well the results are in,

Well the results are in, and as expected the Conservative Party of Canada has won a minority government. It will take a few days for the dust to settle and the recounts to be over and done with until we know their exact margin of victory. As it stands now though the final tally of seats is: Conservatives 124, Liberals 103, Bloc Quebecois 51, New Democratic Party 29, and one Independent.

The biggest news of the night may not be the results, but the fact that Liberal leader, and now former Prime Minister, Paul Martin has announced his resignation. Although there was speculation that he would not run again as leader if the Liberals lost, his resignation so soon after the results were finalized is surprising.

Although the Conservatives picked up a few seats in the Metro Toronto Area, the numbers were not sufficient to make any serious inroads into the traditional Liberal power base. They did pick up an additional 12 seats, and the N.D.P. also picked up 5. The Conservatives held on to their rural Ontario seats, and took some from the Liberals, but it was the N.D.P. who benefited the most from the soft Liberal vote in Ontario

Where the Conservatives picked up seats was Quebec. They managed to take eight seats away from the Bloc Quebecois and two from the Liberals. Whether this was simply a protest vote against the Liberals, or the beginnings of a trend towards supporting a federalist party that will guarantee more provincial rights remains to be seen.

In the Maritimes the situation remained virtually unchanged with only two seats changing hands, from the Liberals to the Conservatives.

On the Prairies nothing much changed from the last election, save for the Conservatives solidifying their hold on Western Canada. They completely swept Alberta, the home province of the former Alliance Party; won 13 of a possible 14 in Saskatchewan with one seat going to the Liberals; and in Manitoba the results look to be identical to last election at Conservatives 7, N.D.P. 4, and Liberals 3.

British Columbia, where polls closed last in Canada, will decide what the final size of Harper's margin of victory will be. Although as of 12:40 am E.S.T. with all the polls closed for well over an hour now, things look to be close to final. At dissolution of the house the Liberals only had eight of the 36 seats, and the N.D.P. five so the only way the Conservatives had to go was up.

This was the Conservative party's chance for a major breakthrough across Canada. The Liberals were beset by scandal and the public was ready to make a change. Liberal leader Paul Martin was widely seen as inept by the majority of the country, while Steven Harper of the Conservatives looked solid and dependable.

Polls leading up to the election showed them with leads as large as twelve percent of the popular vote, which would have translated to a majority government. But in the end they could only muster 36% of the vote compared to the Liberal's 30% and the N.D.P.'s 17%.
This can only be seen as something of a disappointment for a party that had hopes of forming a majority government at one point. In fact even the size of their minority is somewhat less than anticipated. In order for them to pass any legislation they will have to garner significant opposition support for their programming, which will limit their effectiveness as a government.

The Conservatives will be hard pressed to find common ground with either the Liberals or the N.D.P. on much of their agenda unless they are willing to modify elements of it radically. Approaching the Bloc Quebecois at this point would be seen as an extremely cynical manoeuvre considering their rhetoric of the campaign about aligning with separatists.

The question now is whether or not Steven Harper and his Conservative party will be able to do anything with their election win of any significance. Their best bet is to try and accomplish as much as possible as early as possible while the Liberals don't have a leader. They won't be in any hurry to have an election until their new leader, whoever it maybe, has a chance to settle into office.

That should give the Conservatives about a year to show Canadians what they can do in government. Although I don't think that means they should be able to count on being able to force through anything contentious like anti-abortion legislation or massive spending cuts to health care and other social programming.

The smartest thing they can do is enact some safe legislation that will make people comfortable enough with them that the scary Conservative label becomes hard to play in future elections. If they are able to do that, they give themselves a healthy chance at a majority next time around.

The next year or so promises to be an interesting time in Canadian politics, with lots to watch and talk about. The big question being, who will the Liberals find to replace Paul Martin? But there's also the fun of whether Steven Harper will be able to keep some of the more extreme elements in his party quiet. It's one thing to keep them under wraps for an election, another all together when they're in power.

Either one of those items could cause the pendulum of power to swing back again to the Liberals. If Alexander Trudeau is ready to take up the reigns of the Liberal party, picking up the mantle of his late father Pierre, or the Conservatives spend the next year shooting themselves in the foot, the Conservatives could see all the gains of this election vanish in the blink of an eye.


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January 23, 2006

In the early hours

In the early hours of yesterday morning a strike force of combined air force jets and Tomahawk cruise missiles carried out an attack aimed at eliminating two suspected sleeper cells of Al Qaida terrorists, including a supposedly high ranking lieutenant of Osama Bin Laden. The two-pronged attack lasted only fifteen minutes and was reported a success in a preliminary press announcement released by the Pentagon.

This statement, released shortly after the planes were returned safely to their bases, was sketchy in its details, but did provide the following information.

Early this morning elements of the 5th squadron of the Louisiana National Guard took off from their home base to meet up with naval vessels off the coast of upstate New York. From there they proceeded to their destination where, along with three Tomahawk cruise missiles they successfully carried out their preordained disposal of ordinance.

Acting on information obtained from highly sensitive sources we had pinpointed the location of not just one but two sleeper cells of Al Qaida terrorists in downtown Toronto, Ontario, Canada. We had also received information that in all likelihood one of the chief lieutenants of the Al Qaida itself was in residence at one of the aforementioned sites.

The three Tomahawk cruise missiles went in ahead of the bombers to minimize the chances of resistance, at which point elements of the 5th squadron dropped their payload of smart bombs and vacated the area in safety. None of our pilots or equipment sustained any damage other than normal wear and tear of flying an operation of this kind.

Our first reports back indicate that we were successful in meeting our objectives and eliminated the targets in question. We won't know exactly what happened until we can analyse the data from the bombsight cameras but once we've done that we should have some nice video for you.

As always in these raids there was the regrettable chance of civilian casualties, but, although its early days yet, it seems likely any collateral damage has been significantly minimal. As Canada is an ally and neighbour we obviously regret any significant loss of civilian life in this mission, but these types of missions always carry that risk. In a time of war we all must be prepared to make sacrifices.

The President, the Pentagon, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff would like to take this time to extend their condolences to any and all Canadians whose families suffered a loss during this raid. Our prayers our with you.

When reached at his new residence at 24 Sussex drive in Ottawa, Canada (the traditional residence of all Canadian Prime Ministers) newly elected Prime Minister of Canada, Stephen Harper had this to say on the matter.

" I would like to thank the President of the United States for taking the time to phone me this morning to give me his personal assurance that all steps would be taken to ensure minimal loss of civilian life during this raid. Knowing that his concern for the well being of the citizens of this great country was equal to mine was truly heartening.

It just shows you what good can come of having convivial relations with your neighbours. Unlike my predecessors who maintained a hostile attitude towards the American President, I'm sure this new spirit of accommodation on the part of my government will go a long way towards healing the rifts that may have developed between our two great nations.

It was in that spirit that I approved this raid without hesitation. It is time that Canadians shouldered more of their share in the War on Terror, and proved their willingness to lay down their lives for freedom just as our neighbours to the south have done.

I would like to take this moment to extend my condolences to those families who may have lost a loved one through any misfortunate accident that could have occurred during this raid. The technology available to the American fighting forces is second to none, but even it's unable to guarantee the sanctity of life for those living in the vicinity of a bombing raid.

It is my intention to visit the site as soon as I've been advised that the area has been cleared of any potential hazards and is safe for civilians. I wouldn't want to interfere in the work of the military. Thank you very much"

Initial reports from the scene are sketchy because emergency crews have been unable to reach the site due to the intense heat of some of the fires burning. They do know that the three of four block radius that was struck was primarily residential, and made up of families.

What strikes City of Toronto officials as especially odd is why member of Al Queada would have picked one of the predominantly Jewish neighbourhoods in Toronto for their sleeper cells. All they can assume was that the members were working as domestics in the various households, because all the buildings in the area were high-end, single-family dwellings.

As the day progresses we hope to provide you with further details as they come available.


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On the battle field


On the battle field death happens. That comes with the territory in a war zone. Soldiers who go into battle do so knowing full well they may not be alive at the end of the day. Under those circumstances it is to be expected that men and women will attempt many desperate measures to stay alive; measures that under normal circumstances would be frowned upon by society.

War is hell is not just a neat phrase that sells movies for Hollywood. People get their arms and legs blown off, their internal organs lacerated with shards of hot metal, and their veins drained of blood. It's probably easy to lose track of ones humanity in the heat of battle and to forget you are trying to kill another human being who is trying to kill you.

It is the very rare occasion where a soldier is held accountable for his or her actions during an engagement. If soldiers in the field had to start second guessing how much violence was allowed to them while trying to kill someone, not only would it be the ultimate in hypocrisy, it would impede upon their chances of staying alive.

After a certain point soldiers in battle are going to have start relying on instincts in order to survive. There is no time to be thinking about the how and means for of killing the other person before they kill you. In fact the few instances where soldiers have ended up being held accountable have been those where there has been pre-meditation and thought beforehand. (The My Lai Massacre of 1968 is an example of such a situation where)

It's only once the battles are over on the field that rules kick in. The Geneva Conventions on the treatment of prisoners of war of 1929, revised in 1949, lays out careful guidelines on how signatories are supposed to treat enemy soldiers under their care.

No matter how hard you were trying to kill someone, or they were trying to kill you, an hour ago, once they lay down their arms all bets are off. You can no longer fold, mutilate or spindle them. You become responsible for their health and well being; including supplying them with adequate food, shelter, clothing, and medical treatment if required. (Remember we are talking about combatants from the battlefield, not potential terror threats or spies)

It seems like some of the units, or soldiers at least, charged with interrogation of prisoners seems to have missed the memo on that treaty. A warrant officer has been found guilty of negligent homicide and negligent dereliction of duty for his role in the death of Iraqi Major General Abed Hamed Mowhoush. Chief Warrant Officer Lewis Welshofer Jr was accused of carelessly sitting on the prisoner's chest after covering the prisoner's head with a sleeping bag, and his mouth with his hand. All this was in an attempt to make the prisoner give him information.

Whether the General would have been able to perform the miraculous and actually speak when his air and vocal abilities were being impeded to such an extent is something we will never know as he died. As punishment for neglecting to let his prisoner breath Chief Warrant Officer Welshofer faces a dishonourable discharge and up three years and three months in jail.

The prosecution painted a picture of a man who was frustrated by the constraints placed upon him by regulations and The Convention. Who had to be brought to heel by superiors in order to curb his enthusiasm in the interrogation rooms. In response to a letter sent to superiors Welshoffer was told to take a deep breath and "remember who we are".

The defence tried to make the case that given the circumstances of the time, the ongoing insurrection, and what they called a lack of clear guidance on the matter of conducting interrogations, relieved their client of culpabiltiy. Both of these arguments conveniently avoid acknowledging the existence of the Geneva Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War.

Major General Mowhoush was a prisoner of war. Guidelines for his treatment were readily available at all times, and no matter what the circumstances, there is no way any deviation from those guidelines should be acceptable.

I have always thought of the negligent as an extreme form of the word careless. While the later implies some minor mistake the former is something serious with severe consequences. While you can say that the death of General Mowhoush was a severe consequence, can Welshoffer actions be dismissed as simply negligent?

Was he negligent in that while attempting to suffocate General Mowhoush he succeeded? Or was he negligent in allowing others to see him do it? (Two soldiers who had also been originally charged with murder had their sentences dropped for agreeing to testify) Or did allowing his prisoner to die without coughing up any information count as negligence?

Welshofer was using violence to try and frighten and intimidate his prisoner to tell him information he may or may not have had. It may be useless to try and attempt to read his mind about why he chose asphyxiation as his means to try and extract information, but there can be no question as to his intent. It was a deliberate and premeditated attempt to inflict harm.

Obviously he was not intending for General Mowhoush to die, he's not going to say much dead, so this was not a premeditated murder. But to call it negligent is to deny the amount of responsibility that Welshofer bears for his death. The defence attorney tried to divert blame from his client by saying a pre existent heart condition was more a cause of death than his client's actions.

But in my mind that increases, not decreases, his culpability. Welshofer would have been aware of the General's medical history, and still sat on his chest and impeded his oxygen intake. Neither action could be considered conducive to the well being of someone with a bad heart. In fact any sustained interrogation, let alone the physical abuse inflicted by the Warrant Officer, would have been dangerous.

Under the term of the Geneva Convention a soldier surrendering to an enemy is guaranteed a certain standard of treatment. As a signatory to this treaty the United States Army, and all of its soldiers, are required to meet those standards.

Finding Chief Warrant Officer Welshofer guilty of negligent homicide for the death of a man he was torturing is a singularly cynical disregarding of that treaty. It is not often the intent of a torturer to kill his victim; in fact usually the direct opposite is the desired result.

According to the United States Army it seems that Welshofer was negligent in his duties as an interrogator, as he allowed the prisoner to die without extracting information from him, so he is guilty of negligent dereliction of duty. Therefore, since Major General Mowhowsh died due to Welshofer's negligence; Welshofer is guilty of negligent homicide.

The sentence completely ignores the fact that all of the activities leading to the death of the Mowhowsh are strictly forbidden under the Geneva Convention. It implies that the only thing Welshofer did wrong was allowing the prisoner to die while he was being tortured and ignores the fact that torture of prisoners of war is illegal.

Of course the American military is only following the lead of the Bush administration on this issue, as they have been pushing to allow the use of torture. But even they must realize that endorsing the use of torture against captured combatants on the field of battle places their own soldiers in the position of being subject to the same mistreatment.

The American media and administration made quite the stink about the treatment of downed airmen in the first Gulf War when Saddam paraded them in front of the television cameras. But those actions seem trivial compared to the "negligent" death of a prisoner during torture.

If the American government and military no longer wish to be considered signatories to the Geneva Convention that is their prerogative. But they could have the decency to warn their own citizens of the consequences for the American soldier.

Perhaps the administration believes it doesn't matter what they do; that American soldiers will be mistreated in any event. Maybe they'd like to check with the families of those individuals who serve in the armed forces before they simply write them off in advance? Does everybody fully understand the implications of their ipso facto withdrawal from the Geneva Convention?

Mr. Cheney and Mr. Bush, and all those others out there supporting torture seemed to have neglected to let anybody know about the other side of the coin. What can be done by them to others; can now be done to Americans with equal impunity. Not only that, but they will have surrendered the right to complain about the mistreatment of American soldiers at the hands of their captors.

The American people need to realize that if they accept their governments use of torture on captured military, that they are condemning their own soldiers to the same treatment. Judging by the slap on the wrist the Chief Warrant Officer Welshofer has received, that's the path they're being led down now whether they know it or not.


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January 22, 2006

I've finally run across

I've finally run across one of those musicians where I can honestly say; what can I say about this guy? I could say he plays guitar and sings; but, that's like describing a beautiful, multi coloured flower, with an exquisite scent, as a plant. It's so damn inadequate.

Faced with an artist who somehow meshes the musical styles of three continents (at least) into one song, it doesn't seem right to call him a blues guitarist, but that's the best place to start for Bob Brozman. It's not that he doesn't play the blues, because lord knows he plays them better than most anyone alive today; but again, it comes back to the plant thing: inadequate.

Just look at the instruments he's credited with playing on Blues Reflex. The average song will feature at least three guitars; ranging from a National Tricone Baritone, a Kona Rocket Hawaiian Guitar, a regular National Tricone and others; a variety of other stringed instruments including a seven string Hawaiian and a ten string Bolivian Charango; and just for variety he does the percussion and sings as well.

So, I hear you saying, there's lots of guys who do that. What's the big deal? The big deal is that with the exception of only a couple other guitarists that I can think of (Ry Cooder and Harry Manx) he's one of the few that immerses themselves in the guitar and its culture to learn how to incorporate it into what they are doing musically. It's not just cool, or a passing fad for him; it becomes part of his sound.


Blues Reflex shows off that variety of sound in one package. In fact it's sort of like a mini world tour of Bob stylistically. Being this is the blues it makes sense the disc starts in church with "Dead Cat On The Line". It's introduced by a taped clip of a 1929 radio sermon from the Rev. J.M. Gates and then moves into the song. It's a message song about communications and how the wires don't sometimes connect because there's a dead cat on the line messing with transmission.

It's a slow rolling song with two guitars, playing off each other, and Brozman's voice scratching and chopping out the lyrics. First impressions are what usually stick with me, and in the case of Bob, whether he actually sounds like him or not, he evoked in me thoughts of Louis Armstrong. Louis Armstrong with a Tom Waits attitude.

It's on the third track, "One Steady Roll", that our world tour starts with a stop in Reunion Island for and infusion of African sega rhythms. Bob plays all the percussion on the two guitars used in the song, and moves Chicago blues to the Indian Ocean without missing a beat.

From here on in our odyssey is in full swing. Whether it's an original song penned for this recording, "New Guinea Blues", or a reworking of a classic like "Death Come Creepin'" Bob's versatility and comfort with a variety of musical styles shines through.

Although he has an obvious passion for the old resonator sound generated by a variety of National guitars, he knows enough not to limit himself to just one tone musically. To take some of the hard edge of the steel strings away, he will almost always use at least one softer strung guitar. What this allows him to do is create two distinct sounds (at least) so that the listener can easily discern the multiple textures of a song.

Listen to "Poor Me", Bob's adaptation of a Charley Patton recording. He doesn't change the lyrics, plays it like the old time song it is (1920s blues) but the guitar sounds are something out of Bob's heart and mind. He starts with the sweeping sounds of the softer strung guitars, according to the credits two seven string Hawaiian guitars, and then part way through the song he adds the stronger sound of the National.

Like the symphony orchestra properly utilized by a composer and a conductor, Bob uses the various sounds at his disposal to increase the impact of his pieces. He doesn't just cover classic blues songs and play them, he interprets them for his audience.

His devotion to the genre is obvious from the love and care with which he treats the material. Not one song on this disc has the feeling of being "tossed" off. There is far too much attention paid to the details that go into making the songs work.

"There's so much music out there…I guess I'll get some sleep in the next life" pretty much sums up the excitement one feels emanating from Bob's music. This is a man who is in love with his music and sinks himself heart and soul into every song he records. His devotion is such that it extends beyond the playing, to the instruments he utilizes.

He has become an expert on the unique sounding National guitar, both as a player and as a historian. Not only has he accumulated a large collection of customized instruments, he also developed a close relationship with John Dopyera the inventor of the guitar. In 1993 Bob published The History And Artistry Of National Resonator Instruments as a repository for all the information he had accumulated about that unique guitar.

Blues Reflex is only one of Bob's 26 discs available at this time. More then half of the remainder are musical collaborations with individuals from the variety of musical cultures he draws upon for the playing you hear on Blues Reflex.

Bob Brozman is no dilettante playing at "world music". He is an aficionado of not just guitars, but the music that resonates from the hearts of peoples from the Mississippi Delta to Papua New Guinea. Blues Reflex offers us a glimpse into the world of Bob Brozman via his love of the blues. The only question remaining is: how many of the trails he blazed are you going to follow after listening to this one disc.


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January 21, 2006

It's down to the


It's down to the final dirty weekend. After what feels like one of the longest election campaigns in recent history, Canadian politicians have two days left with which to sway voters. The big question of the election has switched from; would the Conservatives be able to convince enough Canadians that the Liberals are too corrupt to rule anymore? To, have the Liberals been able to frighten enough people away from the Conservatives to prevent them from winning a majority government?

Polls at the beginning of this past week were showing support for the Conservatives inching into majority territory with their lead peaking at ten percent higher than the Liberals. As the week progressed that lead gradually began to erode again until it fell back into minority government land.

The fact that all poles are only accurate within a plus or minus 3% range means that both results are still equally possible. But the impression one got from the way the polls were conducted and released is that the public looked at the possibility of a Conservative majority and started backing away.

It's no coincidence that Paul Martin (Prime Minister and leader of the Liberal party) has spent the past week bashing away at the Conservative social agenda. Reminding people that the Conservatives are anti-choice, anti-gay marriage, and pretty much anti-anything else he can think of.

Steven Harper hasn't helped himself in that one with his speculation about the courts and their influence on legislation. Seeing how it was the courts that paved the way for gay marriage, and freedom of choice for women he was supplying a little bit of fuel for that fire. It might explain why he's turned back to attacking the Liberal party's lack of integrity.

This has been a campaign that has been mysteriously devoid of issues. Oh sure people will occasionally mention stuff like tax cuts, spending proposals or whatever, but it just doesn't seem like anyone really has their heart in it. Everybody knows that it’s going to come down to whether or not Canadians are going to be willing to entrust their country to Steven Harper and the Conservatives.

Obviously the Conservatives have gotten that message loud and clear. Somebody has gone around with a role of duct tape and sealed everybody's mouth in the party except for Stephen Harper. The Conservatives have imposed on the national consciousness the idea that no one else aside from him is running for the party.

They've been counting on two things. One that they will be able to paint the Liberals with the brush of scandal so successfully that people will ignore their social conservative nature; and two, everybody's short term memory problem.

On the first part they got lucky with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (R.C.M.P.) announcing they were starting an investigation into activities surrounding the Ministry of Finance and insider trading due to leaked budget information. Nothing like an announcement of yet more potential corruption to damage what little credibility the Liberal's may have had left. It also served to distract people from thinking about anything like social issues. If Paul Martin and the Liberals started harping on about them, it would just sound like scare tactics and desperate attempts to stave off defeat.

That's the bind that the Liberal party has found themselves in for this election. Even when they speak the truth about Steven Harper and the Conservative party's social agenda, it sounds like the act of a desperate party. They needed somebody else to make those statements; somebody like the New Democratic Party. (N.D.P.)

Ah yes the N.D.P., supposedly the social conscience of our country. The party that informs the public about the issues they should be caring about and than the public chooses which of the other two parties sound most like the N.D.P. on that issue and vote for them.

If anybody had the moral authority to speak out against Steven Harper and the Conservatives it should have been Jack Layton as leader of the N.D.P. But where have they been in this election. There was a real opportunity for them to present themselves as a genuine third alternative this time round. At the very least they could have served notice that they could be counted on in a minority government situation to be a moral compass for the other two parties.

But even the extreme right has been missing them. Long time conservative pundit John Crispo bemoaned their lack of participation in the election on economic issues.

He wondered why the N.D.P., of all parties, wasn't making more of an issue that both Liberal and Conservative tax cuts were favouring the extremely rich. That while the poor kept getting poorer, and the middle class was sinking, the really rich kept getting richer and were being helped by their friends in either one of the established parties.

I'm sure there would have been those who would have dismissed the N.D.P.'s criticism of Steven Harper as just so much left wing whining, but they would be those who would be voting Conservative already. If the N.D.P. could have been bothered to exert a little effort into attacking Harper and the Conservative's social agenda, it would have lent credibility to the Liberal attacks.

If they figured that helping the Liberals would make them look bad, or if they were better off attacking the Liberals for the sake of their own political fortunes, than not only was that morally questionable, but politically stupid.

The best chance the N.D.P. has of ever winning seats is if the Liberals and the Conservatives split the vote and they can sneak in around them. If too many people defect from the Liberals to the Conservatives, they lose. By not attacking the Conservatives on their social agenda they made them an even more attractive alternative to the corrupt Liberals.

Before the election started everybody knew it would come down to fear versus corruption. Could the Liberals paint the Conservatives as American Christian right-wingers set to turn Canada into a Republican outpost and hold onto the reigns of power that way? Or would the Conservatives be able to convince enough Canadians that the time was right for a change and they should throw the corrupt bums out, to form their own minority government.

No one had even considered the possibility of a Conservative majority. But now in the final weekend it looks like a foregone conclusion that the Conservatives will form the next federal government in Canada. What remains to be seen is if they've persuaded enough Canadians that they're not the scary boogiemen the Liberals depict them to be and they end up with enough seats to form a majority government.


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January 20, 2006

Klezmer? What's a Klezmer?

Klezmer? What's a Klezmer? Microsoft sure doesn't know because it keeps telling me I've misspelled it and doesn't offer me any alternatives. For starters Klezmer is not an object it's a subject. So the question should be; what is Klezmer?

Simply put Klezmer is Jewish secular music. That of course tells you absolutely nothing at all about it, but it's a good start. The literal translation from the Yiddish is "vessel of song" The word was derived from a similar sounding Hebrew word, k'li zemer of the same meaning.

Although the tradition of the klezmorim (non liturgical musicians) dates back to biblical times, it wasn't until the 15th century that klezmer music was developed. Taking its name from the word for the instruments played by klezmorim, the musical style is connected with the development and growth of Hassidic and Ashkenazic Judaism.
As these peoples were primarily to be found in Eastern and Central Europe, klezmer music has many similarities to the folk music of those regions. Czradas from Hungary; polkas and mazurkas from Poland and Czechoslovakia; waltzes and tangos all found their way into the klezmer stew. Much like the Yiddish the songs were sung in, the music would reflect an ensemble's country of origin.

Keeping true to its roots in Jewish liturgical music, while incorporating these elements allowed klezmer to develop the unique sound we associate with it today. The other factor was the instruments.

Either by choice, or necessity, many of these performers needed to be mobile, so naturally they would be attracted to instruments that were easily transported. Banjos, piccolos, clarinets, violins and, latter, accordions have all been key elements of the klezmer sound.

With the mass immigration to North America in the mid to late 19th century emptying the shtetls (Jewish peasant farming villages of Eastern Europe) klezmer music was exposed to even more influences. In turn it lent its colour to work being produced in North America.

Clarinets were brought out of the bands and made into lead instruments by musicians like Benny Goodman, who would have grown up listening to kleamer. Even the sound of swing and jazz clarinet is comparable to the way it sounds in klezmer.

But as it was being incorporated into other music, klezmer itself was falling by the wayside. It wasn't until the 1980's when interest in world music started to rise, that klezmer was "rediscovered". Since then there have been a steady increase in the number of klezmer bands available for audiences to listen to.

Given the international flavour inherent in klezmer, it surprises me that until now, no one has attempted to do what the David Glukh International Ensemble has done in their latest album. Klezmer Travels The World sets out not only to celebrate the original roots of the genre, but to seek out styles of music not normally associated with klezmer.

I know the myth of the wandering Jew claims he is to wander the earth until Christ is resurrected, but I somehow doubt that he takes a klezmer band with him on his travels. Therefore the music of China and points east has probably never shown up in a Klezmer tune before.

"Klezmorim in China" supposes that some klezmer musician show up in China to attempt collaboration with Chinese instruments and performers. When David Glukh who, along with the rest of the ensemble is a classically trained musician, discovered that J. S. Bach liked klezmer, it was only natural for him to compose "Baroque Klezmer", a fusion of the two styles.

The one thing I've had against a number of the bands involved in the klezmer revival is their inability to move beyond the strictures of how they believe the music should be played. The result is good music that begins to sound annoyingly similar after a while.

They seem to have forgotten that the music originally evolved through its ability to absorb the sounds surrounding it without surrendering its identity. David Glukh's original compositions, like the two mentioned about and "Gypsy Craze", are perfect examples of how that is accomplished. You're still listening to the music of the shetls, but now some friends have dropped by to help out.

David Glukh's instrument of choice for these recordings is the piccolo trumpet. I have to confess to my ignorance of never having heard of, let alone heard, a piccolo trumpet. It is usual for the leader of a klezmer troupe to play a clarinet, as the sound can both evoke sadness and express jubilation.

If I hadn't known it wasn't a clarinet being played I don't know if I could have honestly told you I noticed a difference. Perhaps the notes were just that much cleaner, or the sound a little more pointed at times. But it conveyed exactly the same feelings as the more traditional woodwind.

Throughout Klezemer Travels The World The David Glukh International Ensemble embraces the unique ethnic diversity of klezmer music, and on occasion expands on it without ever losing touch with its core essence. Although klezmer was the music at weddings and other celebrations, it does not stop it from communicating the experiences of its people.

There are the wild, almost frenzied dances, that are defiant celebrations in the face of the real suffering Jews would have experienced in Europe during the period of the reformation, and through the years up to and including the Holocaust. Doleful instrumental ballads balance playful polkas much as the reality of dirt scrabble poverty and persecution weighs on any festive occasion.

That the five players of the ensemble are gifted enough to not only play this music with all the passion and integrity required, but are also able to expand its horizons, speaks volumes about their abilities. I've been listening to klezmer music since the earlier days of its revival in the eighties, and these gentlemen have to be the best I've heard yet.

If you have never listened to klezmer music before, or even if you have, Klezmer Travels The World will be a musical experience, and journey, you'll not regret. It's probably the most exotic cruise of the world you can take without leaving home.

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January 19, 2006

There are many mysteries in

There are many mysteries in this universe that are probably best not explained. The answers would probably be just too weird for our poor little brains to cope with. One of the biggest and strangest mysteries out there is the fascination that skinny white Jewish guys like me have with Black gospel music.

What is it about that stuff that makes it strong enough to go against over 5,000 years of biological and racial memory and that just hearing the opening notes from a choir makes me want to run out and find the nearest Southern Baptist Church and throw myself into the water.

Luckily for my mother's heart I live in Canada; it's January, and nobody in their right mind is going to immerse them selves in a creek in this weather. Anyway the nearest Southern Baptist is who knows how many thousands of miles away from here.

I remember the first time seeing and hearing one of the old time gospel groups. The Zion Harmonisers had come up from New Orleans and were playing at the Mariposa Folk Festival one Sunday morning, when it was still out on the Toronto Islands. They just blew me away.

Any art that's inspired by belief seems to have something a little extra that draws you in. From the raw power of picto-glyphs daubed on a rock face; the orchestral might of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, and the more inspired religious art of the renaissance. It's like the work transmits something of the divine.

That's the feeling I get from really good gospel music. The people singing and playing are so devout that their feelings just shine right through. It's like they have no choice in the matter; they're so inspired that it pushes them to get up and sing.

There used to be a stupid saying "You don't have to be Jewish to like…but it doesn't hurt" Well the same holds true for gospel; you don't have to be Christian to like it, and too be honest I can't see how anybody anywhere couldn't be moved by the pure energy and spirit demonstrated by these singers and performers.

There's nothing quite like letting that elation wash over you. Sitting back in a chair (well if you can sit and listen) listening to music of that calibre is truly a religious experience, no matter what faith you profess or follow.

Lee Friedlander and Joel Dorn have put together an eighteen track compilation on Hyena Records simply called Gospel Music. They have been very deliberate in their presentation of the material, and kept packaging, notes, and anything else they think that would distract from the music, to a minimum.

You won't be tempted to pick up the CD case to check the booklet at any time while you're listening, because there is nothing to see. They want you to listen and get lost in the experience of the music.

I have to say my initial reaction was "Where are the liner notes?" I wanted to know who these people singing were, where they were when they sang these songs if it was live, and what year it was recorded in. All the usual stuff we clutter our brains with when we're listening to music.

The only liner note, is the note telling you there are no liner notes and why. From then on it's up to you to decide whether you can get out of your head long enough to let this music into your heart. If you can't than you should consider getting a chest X-ray to see if you're suffering from that problem the Grinch had with a heart two sizes too small.

Even the names of some of the groups are enough for me sometimes: The Swan Silvertones, The Angelic Gospel Singers & The Dixie Hummingbirds, The Soul Stirrers, and The Consolers. In those last two you'll find all the description you're going to need about the nature of the music. There's consolation for those looking for affirmation of their belief, and for all of us, it’s the chance to have our souls stirred.

Some of the greats are here: The Staple Singers and Mahalia Jackson have long been synonymous with great gospel music, and their performances are all you'd expect form them. But the real delights in discs like this one are groups you've never heard before.

The Harmonizing Four's version of "Motherless Child" shows this group can live up to their name. I've always been a sucker for a great bass voice (I could listen to Paul Robeson all day) and with this song's bass lead it quickly became one of my favourite cuts.

Back to back versions of the spiritual "This May Be The Last Time" (Mick and Keith sure knew where to grab some good lines and tunes) by The Staple Singers and The Original Five Blind Boys Of Alabama shows how a song changes from era to era and group to group. While the Staples play slow and soulful, The Blind Boys are all up-tempo revival style that pulls you out of your pew and gets you dancing.

This isn't music to get intellectual about. It's not about anything rational or logical in either its appeal or its strength. Black gospel music is listened to with the heart and the soul. These people didn't perform for the labels or personal glory; they performed (and still perform) for the glory of what they believed in.

You don't have to believe to be swept away by the maelstrom of emotion they generate. That's the beauty of genuine rapture; it comes through loud and clear no matter what the language, culture, religion or creed. Gospel Music is eighteen tracks of substantial arguments proving that point.


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January 18, 2006

Can Phil Fontaine Deliver 63

Can Phil Fontaine Deliver 63 Seats?

As the last months of Paul Martin's Liberal government were winding down a two very important series of negotiations were brought to a close. The first was the contentious issue of compensation and reconciliation over the residential school system imposed by the Federal government on the Native populations, and the second was the commitment of $5 billion dollars over five years by all the provinces and the Federal government to housing, health, and education for first nations peoples.

The residential school system was devised by the Canadian government as a means of dealing with the "Indian Problem". The idea was to ensure future generation's assimilation into white society by taking children from their parents and dumping them into boarding school thousands of miles away from home.

The schools were administered by whatever Christian church happened to be dominate in that territory, and proceeded to commit cultural genocide. All inhabitants were forbidden to speak their own language, they were instructed that the beliefs of the their parents (and their parents themselves) were evil, they were stripped of all personal possessions, and kept in Dickinson conditions.

Supposedly they were being trained to be able to "fit in" but in actuality they were being conditioned to be low paying menial labour. The girls were set to work in the laundries and kitchens of the school, and taught basic house keeping skills. The boys were janitorial and gardening staff, and put to work in the kitchens as well.

They were all taught either French or English and whatever form of Christianity those running the schools espoused. Naturally those in Quebec would have been predominantly Catholic and French, while the rest of Canada was mainly Anglican (Episcopalian equivalent).

If this wasn't bad enough the children were also subjected to some of the most horrible systematic abuse imaginable. Punishments for speaking your own language were as extreme as being locked up naked in a cell, beaten severely, and anything else that could be devised to "beat the Indian" out of them.

Of course there were also the nightly visits that so many of them were subjected to. Sexual abuse of both the male and female students by the staff was rampant. The churches obviously used these places as depots for those whose appetites made them unacceptable as leaders of congregations. There may have been some decent people amongst them, but they would have been the exception to the rule.

These schools were in operation into the 1970's in parts of Canada, ensuring that generation after generation of people were turned into dysfunctional messes. The inheritance of these schools are the high incidences of sexual abuse on Native reserves, alcoholism, and a suicide rate that would cause a panic if it were among white people.

The agreement reached late in 2005 had two key components; compensation and reconciliation. In some ways the later is the more important element. Following the lead of the Australian government, a truth and reconciliation commission will be formed to provide education and understanding about this long ignored item of Canadian history. It is hoped this commission will begin the process of helping to address the anger and resentment on both sides of coin.

Both the First Nations people who suffered the humiliation of the schools and the Canadians of non-native descent need to understand the other's position. Many non-natives do not understand the implications of the residential schools and the long-term affects they had on whole communities. They resent what they see as "special treatment" for a bunch of lazy welfare recipients.

If you have not suffered the stigma of sexual abuse, or even systemic emotional and physical abuse, you cannot understand what it can do to a person, let alone a whole generation of people. Ideally this commission will help to bridge this gap of incomprehension.

If you live in Southern Canada, especially Ontario, the only reserve you probably have come across has a Casino on it and looks quite prosperous. Even on those reserves, and there aren't that many of them, once you get past the Casino, the prospect of employment is extremely limited.

The further north one travels, in general, the worse conditions get. Housing goes from nice to adequate, from adequate to desperate. Recently a whole reserve in Northern Ontario had to be evacuated because the water system became completely corrupted, and it was impossible to live there.

Health care facilities are primitive, with maybe a nurse able to come to a local clinic once a week, and to get anything beyond a basic high school education one would have to travel thousands of miles. This pattern is repeated in communities across Canada, from Baffin Island to New Brunswick.

That $5 billion over five years that looks so large, begins to shrink when you think of the numbers of people and communities that it has to be distributed amongst, for health, education, and housing. Even considering we're talking about only those who are enrolled band members living on reserve, the numbers of people would be staggering.

As it stands neither of these "treaties" has been ratified by any of the houses of parliament in Canada. The provinces will not be in a hurry to do anything before the federal government first passes the legislation through the House of Commons in Ottawa.

In today's online web comment in the Globe and Mail Phil Fontaine, national chief of The Assembly of First Nations (AFN) addressed these two issues in light of the current federal election. As befits a man who grew up on the gritty streets of the North End of Winnipeg he was pretty blunt in his assessment of the situation.
While making it clear that the AFN is a non-partisan organization, he also said there would be no way in the world they would endorse any party opposed to approving either one of these deals. If his calculations are correct, and there is no reason to suspect otherwise, he claims that the native population could swing as many as sixty-three seats (electoral districts) towards the party of their choice.

In an election this close, those seats could be the difference between Steven Harper's Conservative Party of Canada getting the majority they covet, and having to deal with a minority government. In his article today Mr. Fontaine wasn't tipping his hand on how he was going to encourage natives to vote; all he said was that they will be looking for unequivocal support for the deals, and monitoring each party's response.

This statement was primarily directed at Mr. Harper. Both the New Democratic Party (N.D.P.) and the Liberals would be supportive of these deals without question. But in the past members of Steven Harper's party have gone on record expressing sentiments along the lines of: "They lost, we won, tough luck" when it comes to native issues.

They have opposed most of the new land claim treaties and what they call "preferential treatment". A large proportion of their core supporters are those who stand to lose most through native empowerment: oil companies, lumber companies, and others wishing to exploit treaty territories under dispute.

The two questions that are most important in the equation of the sixty-three seats are, will they make a difference (are they seats that could go either way, or ones already conceded to either the Liberals or the N.D.P.) and two, can Mr. Fontaine deliver them as he says he can. If the AFN asks natives to vote for the candidate most likely to defeat a Conservative in a riding will enough of them come out to vote, and will they listen to what the AFN has to say.

The AFN is made up of the chiefs of the various band councils across Canada. Their relationship with various communities has been rocky on a variety of occasions. The territories they represent elect the chiefs, but the turn out for these elections is often very low. Some of the councils are rife with nepotism and corruption, and have deeply divided their people.

In other areas their actual right to rule is questioned. Electing of chiefs is as alien to a lot of First Nations peoples as the residential school system. It was a system imposed upon them by the government as a means of eliminating the power of the traditional chiefs who were seen as rallying points for discontent. Some people still refer to AFN chiefs with the derogatory term of Apple (red on the outside white on the inside)

The AFN itself has often come under fire for being too much a tool of the oppressor. As recently as ten years ago a group of Mohawks went to Ottawa and trashed their offices to protest against their lack of support.

Has Phil Fontaine managed to heal these wounds within his own community sufficiently to create the kind of voting bloc he claims he has? Mr. Fontaine has far more "street" credibility than any of his predecessors and appears to have far more backing from communities. He has shown that his is willing to be patient when it comes to dealing with the government on the larger issues, but at the same time will back local community acts for recognition.

While predecessors would issue ultimatums to Ottawa, and than waffle when it came to local standoffs, Fontaine has taken the opposite approach. He knows when it's important to count coup, and when it's important to negotiate.

While the AFN may not be able to deliver sixty-three seats in this election, their threat to do so is indicative of Mr. Fontaine's way of doing business. He'll negotiate when it's needed, but he's also prepared to go to war for his people when necessary. It's that attitude, and the fact that he's just delivered results as he has promised he would, that could bring a new player on to the Canadian political map: The Native Vote.

Phil Fontaine has the instincts of a street fighter and the negotiating skills of a good lawyer. If I were Steven Harper I would not be taking him lightly. A maybe won't cut it for natives anymore in Canada, and they are now prepared to back that up with what looks like sizable political clout.


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January 17, 2006

I was born February 23rd

I was born February 23rd 1961, which meant the New Frontier of John F. Kennedy was just a month old and the civil rights movement was still pretty much in its infancy. My first awareness of the radical changes happening was with the death of Martin Luther King Jr. in April of 1968.

Even then the only reason it came to my attention was due to a family vacation in Washington D.C. in May of that year. I have memories of hearing snatches of long distance conversations between my father and the friend we were supposed to be visiting debating the wisdom of the trip.

As with most of my childhood I have only brief glimpses of what happened during that trip: The Lincoln Memorial, The Smithsonian Institute, plumes of smoke over the downtown core where fires from riots weeks old still smouldered, seeing more black people on the streets than I had ever seen before, and being told not to bother locking car doors because "it would only make them angry".

I had been told that President Lincoln had abolished slavery, and looking around at what I considered the vast numbers of black people, I had asked my mother if he had gotten elected because all the black people had voted for him. She said no, not bothering to explain in those days most blacks wouldn't have been able to vote anyway, and said that black people were a minority of the population. Even if they all had voted for Mr. Lincoln, she said, it wouldn't have been enough on it's own to elect him.

A seven-year-old child sees what's in front of him and doesn't think of anything else. Coming from Toronto of the 1960's, with a population of less than 500.000, and very few visible minorities; the visual evidence of Washington D.C. was of a country populated predominantly by black people. I don't know what the actual demographics of Washington are, or was back then, but I'm sure there wasn't the black majority I imagined.

Friends of my mothers had been part of a contingent of young Canadians who had gone down to take part in the Freedom Rides of the early sixties. So she had some first hand accounts to draw upon to help me understand the struggle that had been taking place in the country next to us while I had been learning how to walk.

I don't think it's stretching an analogy too much to say at the same time I was beginning to grow up, so was the United States. Neither of us seemed to be in any hurry to rush matters. I didn't learn to walk until I was almost two (it probably won't come as any surprise that I was talking by one) and it took until 1964 for the Untied States to pass the Civil Rights Act.

But standing up and putting one foot in front of the other is only the first step in the long process of covering any distance. The riots and the protest marches were the equivalent of an infants instinctual need for gratification. While the infant wants food and nurturing, people want freedom and to be treated the same as everyone else.

You know "deep in your heart", as the song goes, that it's not right someone gets preferential treatment over you because of their skin colour. You see that happening and you act out against the injustice inherent in the activity. You don't have to think about whether it's fair one person can go to a school while another can't because of the colour of their skin.

How many of the "accomplishments" of the civil rights movement in the sixties weren’t anything more than getting black people to be treated like human beings instead of a lesser species? The right to vote, the right to sit and eat where they wanted, and a lot of stuff that privileged people like that white boy from Toronto took for granted.

When Martin Luther King Jr. was gunned down the redress had only started. From sheer momentum alone the movement continued to advance his causes, but could not go any further. His death left a vacuum that to this day has not been filled in any credible manner. How much had really changed other than those basic rights being ceded? What has been accomplished by those who have come after him?

Sure Black people could now go to school and eat anywhere they wanted; but how were they going to afford to pay the restaurant bill or overcome two hundred years of enforced ignorance to pass the entrance exam? It was like presenting a starving man with a full course banquet and saying help yourself, but sewing his lips shut so he can't eat.

Affirmative action legislation is a helpful tool, but it only works for those who have already managed to cross over the gulf of historical inequity. The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina revealed for the first time to all of us how wide that gap still remains. I would think (at least hope so anyway) that it must have shocked those who consider themselves leaders of the African American community even more so than guilt stricken white liberals.

It's been easy to become complacent with the current status quo, and forget that millions of people have been left behind. For every general how many single mothers are there? For every doctor and lawyer, how many more janitors are there? For every university graduate how many high school dropouts?

True there are white people in the same boat, but I'm willing to bet the ratio is far less significant than that among blacks. The prevailing image that came out of New Orleans was that the face of inner city poverty in America is still black, or at least a shade of skin darker than white.

Social change came to a screeching halt in 1968. With the deaths of Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy; the hijacking of the Democratic nomination for president from Eugene McCarthy into the hands of Hubert Humphrey, and the ultimate election of Richard Nixon as president.

The Great Society programming that had been implemented by Lyndon Johnson in his presidency got washed away in the flood of Viet Nam and military spending under Nixon. (To be fair, the trend had started under Johnson, and caused his near defeat by McCarthy in the New Hampshire primary and his withdrawal from the race for president.)

Although Jimmy Carter in his one term as President tried to bring the focus of the government back onto domestic issues like housing and education. His troubled presidency was either beset by scandal or having to deal with international troubles like the Russian invasion of Afghanistan and the political upheaval in Iran that resulted in the storming of the American embassy and the infamous hostage taking.

Since the Regan presidency social spending and government dictated social changes (never popular in the United States to begin with) have fallen into serious disfavour. Bill Clinton was far too obsessed with Bill Clinton to fulfill his promise, and his final term was hampered by partisan attempts to impeach him because he got caught with his fly open.

With the support of a Republican House and Senate George Bush Jr. has continued the pattern of increased military spending and tax cuts at the expense of any social programs begun under Regan. Whoever succeeds Mr. Bush will be faced with a deficit of such mammoth proportions that the prospects of any great shift to spending on social programs happening in the near future should be considered nil.

What this all boils down to is that aside from a few small initiatives on the state level there has been no significant effort made to improve the lot of the millions of poor Americans in the urban landscape. Since this has been the province of predominantly Black America since the migrations north during the twenties and thirties it means that there have been no societal advancements for African Americans of any great significance since the death of Martin Luther King Jr.

In his speech the night prior to his death, where he eerily predicted what was too happen the next day Mr. King claimed like Moses that he had been to the top of the mountain and seen the Promised Land:


"Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place, but I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over, and I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And so I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." Martin Luther King Jr. April 3rd 1968
Martin Luther Kings Jr.'s vision of a Promised Land was one of racial and economic equality, with equal opportunity for all and special privaleges for none. His eyesight must have been damned good because almost forty years after that speech we're no closer to getting there then we were on that April night in Memphis Tennessee.

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January 16, 2006

For the second time in

For the second time in less than a year I have had the good fortune to be able to conduct an interview with an author whose work I admire and respect. Earlier it was with Ashok Banker, author of the modern Ramayana, now it's Robert Scott, co-author of The Hickory Staff with his late father in law Jay Gordon.

The Hickory Staff is the first book in a trilogy entitled The Eldarn Sequence, named for the world on which it is partially set. We also spend a good deal of time with the characters in the exotic local of Idaho Springs, Colorado. As I had said in my review of the novel, what made this work so special was that they managed to breath new life into a familiar genre: the stranger in a strange land theme.

It was this, their characterizations and something about the freshness of their writing that captured my imagination and made me appreciate the book so much. When I wrote them to tell them I had written a unsolicited review of their book, and to request an interview, it was Robert who wrote back.

It turned out that Jay Gordon was in the last stages of Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) and by this time could no longer type. Jay passed away on November 18th of 2005 having seen the first book published, the second on the way for final proof, and the third about to enter editing.

We had initially planned this interview for when Jay was alive, but the disease had other plans and the end, to my regret, came quicker than I could get it together to send off the questions. In this interview Robert talks about where the genisis for this series came from, the way in which he and Jay worked together, a little about Jay himself, and of course some of the nitty gritty behind the creation of the work.

I conducted the interview via email; sending Robert a list of questions to which he responded with answers. As I discovered with Ashok Banker's interview, author's don't need much encouragement to write, and Robert supplied bountiful answers for all my questions.

So sit back and enjoy reading a storyteller telling the story of the creation of The Eldarn Sequence.

1) Well, let’s start with the usual biographical details.

The first time I met Jay Gordon was in Boston. I was dating his daughter (now my wife), and Jay drove up from New Jersey to help her move into a new apartment. As a guitarist, I was always worried that something I lifted or carried would cut one of my fingers or crack one of my nails. I had a performance the following weekend and was gingerly lugging books, furniture and various sundry items – all the time hoping I would come through the day unscathed. For some reason, there was a moment when Jay and I found ourselves alone in the back of the moving truck. The silence was awkward; so, I took advantage of the opportunity to spot check my hands. Blushing, I confessed that I was a bit overzealous about my fingers and that I often felt like a character from a series of novels I had read back in high school. At that, Jay interrupted. Obviously relieved – we had something to discuss, after all – he said, ‘Thomas Covenant, Steven Donaldson’s hero.’ And so it began; we had known each other for about two hours at the time.

Jay was a fascinating guy. A technology specialist from the early days of the personal computer and corporate network avalanche, Jay was a consultant who seemed to enjoy many things more than he ever enjoyed going to work. One of his most ardent passions was for epic fantasy, science fiction and horror stories. He had read everything and would troll through the bookstore every couple weeks to see if the next volume in any one of eight or nine different series had hit the shelves. We joked often about writing an epic fantasy series but never got around to it. When he became ill in 2001, it was apparent that we needed to get started. He had gone to scores of doctors and had entertained almost as many diagnoses. Things were not going well. The Hickory Staff emerged as something enjoyable that he could do, something to engage his imagination even as his body was breaking down beneath him. Jay never said as much, but I think he was thrilled to have helped tell this story. In the end, it was definitely about the journey. The fact that the book was picked up for publication was a wonderful, but unexpected windfall.

2) Why this genre of fantasy, what is it that attracted you to the displaced person(s) idea?

There was never any question that we would write a traditional epic fantasy piece. It was Jay’s favourite genre, and he especially loved the stranger-in-a-strange-land stories he had been reading for decades. I liked the idea of working with malleable characters. At some point early in the process, I came up with the idea of creating people (and places) trapped between who they had been and who they would eventually become. In turn, the town of Idaho Springs, Colorado became a perfect starting block. The old mining town is nestled in Clear Creek Canyon, boxed in by the mountains with no room to grow. With Denver in the east and a scattering of posh ski resorts in the west, Idaho Springs is perfect. It's not a city, not a resort and no longer a mining hub. Crafting Steven Taylor’s character, it made sense to begin in such a place. While this theme doesn’t apply to every Eldarni character, creature, city or village, it is the lens through which we tried to view the story every time we stepped back to ask, ‘How are we doing?’

3) I have a hard enough time dealing with myself when writing, how did you work with two people? Did one create a scenario, another write it and then the two of you critique it, or is it the old five word story game where you start and finish each other's sentences, but here the key is to make comprehensible? What was the process?

When we started, neither Jay nor I knew anything about the publishing industry. We’d never written a query letter; we didn’t know how or where to find credible agents, and apart from visiting Stephen King’s house on Halloween (well, the street in front of his house, anyway), neither of us had spent much time with writers. We kidded one another about it, but we didn’t truly expect that we would get the manuscript read, never mind edited and in print. I was living in Denver at the time; so, I would write a chapter, email it to Jay and then wait for his notes, questions and critiques. That system worked well until Jay’s ALS progressed to the point where he was unable to type. He had lost much of the dexterity in his hands; so, we tapped his knowledge and ideas in marathon planning and research sessions. Jay was in a wheelchair at the time, and I think he welcomed opportunities to get out of the house, especially to the library or the diner where we’d sit all day, making notes and discussing characters.

Our initial goal was to write the story and to keep it going until Jay passed away (thus the size of the damned thing). He was telling the tale of Hannah Sorensen and the Pragan Resistance, while I worked with Steven Taylor and the crew from Rona. The story lines rarely overlapped; so, early on, there was a great deal of planning but not many disagreements about what happened and to whom. When it became apparent that we would be sending bits and chapters out for consideration, we had to figure a way to turn two writing styles into one. This didn’t feel especially exigent – again, since we were expecting nothing but rejection slips. However, when we realized the entire manuscript was heading to London and that a honest-to-goodness editor was going to peruse it, we had to get serious about cleaning it up. The rewriting fell to me, but Jay was involved all along. Unable to type his ideas, he would read sections, mark places that needed to be addressed and then share his ideas during our sessions.

I think we managed to avoid most disagreements, because we rarely wrote about the same characters at the same time. When we did, one of us was usually more invested in that group of players; so, the other generally (not always, by any means) gave in. Our writing styles and work habits were different, and we learned early in the process that working simultaneously on the same paragraph or – God forbid – the same sentence was the kiss of death.

4) You have your characters deal with some very serious personal issues, Stephen has never been motivated or resolute enough to do things, and now is forced to, and Garec is forced to come to terms with his skill as a killer. It's obvious you wanted this to be more than just an action/adventure series. Any specific reasons for the internal conflicts, aside from motivating the characters?

Writing a traditional fantasy story, Jay and I needed to come up with a few things – hopefully subtle things – that would make the Eldarn books a fresh experience for fantasy readers. Our characters and their personal struggles were favourite drawing boards, ones we revisited often, especially when the draft copy felt like something we had both read dozens of times. With the project nearly complete, the richness of the characters and their development is one of the critical things on which Jay and I hung our hats. There is passion, mysticism, magic, conflict, and plenty of action; however, I believe the Eldarn books live or die based on the reader’s connection with our characters.

When we started, neither Jay nor I had written much fiction. We established some rules that seemed to work, and we stuck by them, no matter what. I was surprised at how frequently one character’s evolution dictated what needed to happen in the plot. (I had read about those things happening but never experienced it firsthand.) Versen’s death (without spoiling too much) is a key moment, because without his murder, Brexan’s character would have continued to exist in his shadow. Brexan is a significant character in Lessek’s Key and The Larion Senators. Yet, she would not have emerged as a varsity player in these books had Versen lived. The same holds true for Garec, Hannah, Mark and Hoyt. They are all characters who evolve slowly but – hopefully – into memorable participants in an albeit, traditional, story.

5) All of your characters have depth to them, even the ones who are dead before we know them for long, what did you use for references for them? Anyone you know show up in the pages, or are they all just figments of your imagination?

Jay and I wanted to craft characters who were interesting people first and heroes (or villains) second. They each needed to have something on their minds, some personal, non-plot issue plaguing them while they tried to keep their eye on the ball. The litmus test we used was to ask ourselves whether these people would seem two dimensional if we met them outside the pages of the book. And while we didn’t mould any characters from people we know, there are snippets of characters: physical features, idiosyncrasies, gestures and colloquialisms that – in hindsight – remind me of certain friends or family members. It was rarely deliberate, though. Well, okay, not often deliberate, anyway.

6) Did you know when you started out on it that it would be a trilogy? I can barely see past the first page of anything I'm doing, I can't imagine thinking three books in advance.

No. For years I wondered what marathon runners thought about while trudging along for 26.2 miles. At 35, I decided to run the New York City Marathon (well, jog, crawl, hitchhike and eventually give up and wait for the Med-Evac helicopter). The night before the race, Jay and I heard from Victor Gollancz, our imprint at Orion Books in London. They had read The Hickory Staff and were interested in our plans for the series. Assuring them we had extensive notes for Lessek’s Key and The Larion Senators, I promised to e-mail a pair of outlines the following Monday, a mere thirty-six hours later. It was one of those wonderful stomach flops that even the engineers at the Disney Corporation can’t perfect. We had glimpsed a publishing contract for a story we scribbled over donuts and beer and we were about to lose it, because we didn’t have a goddamned clue what happens next.

The following morning my wife drove me to the starting line. For the next four hours, I irritated marathoners with plot ideas, character flaws, potential paradoxes and bad metaphors. At 78th Street and Central Park West, I met my sister who gave me a hug and handed over my mini tape recorder. I spent about twenty delirious minutes telling the story aloud to the Upper West Side, typed the outlines that night and emailed the pages off with several hours to spare. I like to think that if the books ever do well, I might hear from one of those runners, someone who humoured me through Brooklyn or out along First Avenue. I kept the tape as well; although, it seems to make more sense after a long run.


7) Who if anyone has inspired your writing?

Jay was a fiction junkie for most of his life. I know he was inspired by Steven Donaldson, Katherine Kurtz, Robert Jordan, Melanie Rawn and Raymond Feist. He is also one of the only people I’ve known to have read the Silmarillion from start to finish. Although he didn’t read Tolkien as much in his later years, Jay had been through the Lord of the Rings enough times to know even the most obscure characters on a first-name basis. He read hundreds of books; he had one with him all time. An avid sports fan, Jay would watch the World Series, the Super Bowl, the NCAA Final Four and all with a book open in his lap. He never minded traffic jams, waits for restaurant tables or long lines at the DMV. Jay was the quintessential escapist reader, and writers of traditional epic fantasy were his inspiration.

For me, writing inspiration comes from a curious place. I started working on The Hickory Staff right after completing my dissertation. An unnecessarily complicated study of school principals and role-related stress, it was a monstrous document with enough bibliography pages to wallpaper my children’s bathroom. All the while I was working on the final draft, I imagined the published manuscript there on the shelves next to the non-fiction works of William Manchester. (Yikes, I’m blushing on the Internet.)

About 100 years ago, I had a chance to travel as a concert soloist. It was a wonderful experience for a young guitarist, but most of the time I was by myself. William Manchester’s works kept me company for years, and I suppose that most days when I sit down to write, I wish I could scribble even a few paragraphs with the skill he would brandish over eight hundred pages. Now that I’m writing fiction every day, I’m still inspired by the sheer volume of his work and the discipline that went into his research. There are thousands of academics out there writing non-fiction, but for me, Manchester made his research read like a novel. His books (and Howard Zinn’s) remain the best history classes I’ve ever had.


8) Some of the creatures you have invented for the books are quite unique, especially the thing inhabiting Nerak. What did you use as inspiration for these ghoulies?

That’s a tough question to answer without spoiling aspects of Lessek’s Key. However, there is a place near the end of The Hickory Staff where Mark Jenkins is wrestling with deductions about Nerak and Nerak’s abilities. Mark is convinced that most of the demons, monsters and creatures hunting the partisan group have a few key elements in common. He struggles to put his finger on it but by the time the book ends, Mark is certain he’s making headway. He discusses it with Steven and Brynne on the shores of the underground lake, but it continues to bother him throughout his time in Orindale. What those creatures have in common is a critical question that must be answered before the band of freedom fighters can defeat Nerak.

These were enjoyable monsters to create. The fact that they all had something in common, something to help illuminate one of Nerak’s weaknesses made the journey more fun for Jay and me. Again, our goal early on was not necessarily to send this manuscript off for consideration. We were more engaged with telling the story, manipulating the layers and creating a wild ride for a willing reader. Having ghouls and critters with a subtle common denominator was something we did on purpose. We didn’t necessarily know when we would use it, but it helped pave the way for Mark’s character to play an important role inLessek’s Key and The Larion Senators. Like Steven’s mathematics knowledge, Mark’s deductions help the partisans decide how and when to bring the fight to Nerak.

9) Mathematics and Engineering have always been weak points for me (same with those types of problems you have Steven loving to solve) the magic in these worlds are based on certain principles. Were any of these principles taken from our sciences that people might recognise? Or have they just come from your fertile imagination.

On that subject, Jay was our expert. He insisted that we have parameters within which Eldarni magic would be confined. And it was about confinement. I remember him saying how much he disliked books in which magic underwent a transformation just at the moment when the protagonist needed something more powerful or more insidious. Why hadn’t it been that powerful all along? How many sidekicks had to die before the square-jawed hero discovered that, in fact, he could level a mountain?

Without spoiling Lessek’s Key, there is more than one mystical force at work in Eldarn. Jay and I were careful to establish specific ceilings for each. At the conclusion of The Hickory Staff, there is some suspicion among the main characters that greater powers have come into play, but we have yet to see the limits of anyone’s abilities, Nerak and the staff included. We found that the most challenging part about writing different kinds of magic over three volumes was deciding how much to expose and when. We didn’t want readers getting the end of Lessek’s Key and saying, ‘oh, they just added that ability, because they were in deep shit.’ We needed magic to evolve like a character, with glimpses of the future included in the text from early on. What are those neon signs Mark keeps seeing? Why didn’t the hickory staff shatter when Steven slashed that pine tree in the Blackstone Mountains? Have we seen the sum force of Nerak’s magic, and why didn’t it destroy Gilmour on "The Prince Marek"? How did Steven start that campfire when the staff was out of reach? These are all questions that eventually lead to a broader and more comprehensive understanding of the different forces at work in Eldarn. By the end of Lessek’s Key, most everything will have come into focus. Yet, there are a few threads that are not entirely explained until The Larion Senators. It wouldn’t be any fun to have everything worked out too early.

As for the math, there is more of that to come as well, including an engineering problem that, if I had a massive federal or corporate grant, I would try to solve in my basement. In Eldarn, magic can pinch hit for an electromagnet. Here in Virginia, well, I just don’t make that much money.

10) Did you have any particular society in mind, cultural, historical period, etc. when you created the world of Eldarn.

Jay and I established a few written-in-blood rules that we followed religiously. One of the most important was that people behave according to what they value. This rule had to hold true for any culture we created, because without it, readers would be less inclined to feel sympathy for the characters. In turn, I suppose there are aspects of Eldarni culture that are rooted in the most fundamental tenants of our western values, traditions, beliefs, myths and behaviours. Yet, Jay and I didn’t select a particular culture or time period to act as Eldarn’s template. Actually, we were deliberate about jumping around a bit. The architecture, the weaponry, the agriculture, the economics and commerce, and especially the shipping industry are all shadowy reflections of different time periods in western history. It presupposes the fact that Larion senators had been making trips back and forth for some time, but it also provides for 980 Twinmoons (about 135 years) of Nerak’s personal, dictatorial values to impact Eldarn’s citizens. Steven notices it in Orindale the moment he sees the Malakasian flagship, The Prince Marek. There is an astonishing incongruity between the technologies of war and shipping – two of Nerak’s priorities – and the technologies of Eastland farming or architecture, for example. 980 Twinmoons is enough time for Eldarn to forget many of the innovative technologies and resources the Larion Senate introduced from Sandcliff Palace. It is ample time for Nerak’s military and economic priorities to diffuse through the cultural fabric of the occupied lands. As well, it is ample time for the people of Eldarn to lose sight of what it meant to be free. Steven and Mark notice almost immediately that apart from the Resistance, Eldarn’s people act like a beaten people. Bringing them hope is a charge the partisan group will need to address before the end of the series.

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January 15, 2006

Once, long ago, there was

Once, long ago, there was a young man who worked in theatre. He started at the age of twenty and kept at it until he was thirty-two, still no further ahead than when he started. Fortunately for him he was able to stop before he got bitter and lost his love and appreciation for the art form.

One of the more beautiful things about theatre is it's potential to create magic out of nothing. I don't mean the elaborate sets of a Broadway style mega production when I say magic. I'm talking about an empty space, which can be filled with whatever the human spirit can imagine and recreate through the power of performance.

It's the magic given to an actor at any level of development, amateur to professional, to become someone else. With or without costume and makeup the gift of being allowed to create a character is a magical experience for both the actor and the people watching.

As an actor there is nothing more liberating than experiencing, for the first time, the sense of being someone other than one's self. The freedom that this allows is immense. One is able to give vent to emotions and ideas that might normally have been locked up inside, but thanks to words and ideas penned by someone else they are allowed to take flight.

As an audience member witnessing this transformation there's the magic of make believe made real before your eyes. Going to theatre is like one giant game of "Let's Pretend". They'll pretend to be lovers; he'll be a king; he is the villain we get to boo; and she is the ingénue we all get to fall in love with. It's a fantasy world brought to life for your own personal enjoyment.

Of course there is also that realization that this is "Live". It's the world of no second takes; only one view of the scene, no multiple cameras; nothing can be tweaked and saved in the editing room. Theatre is the original, What You See Is What You Get.

As a former theatre actor I have obviously a certain amount of prejudice against film acting. It is a different craft from what is done on stage in a number of ways, but what has always bothered me is how little a performance is controlled by the actor.

A director has you shoot a scene from various angles and in a variety of ways. Then in the editing room he literally pieces it together frame by frame. Your final performance in one scene could actually be taken from six separate shots. In my mind that's cheating the process.

It also leads to what I would refer to as a Stars not actors school of performance. So many movie stars do not create a character. They act out versions of themselves; they get angry, they get sad etc. Those actors who actually create characters are categorized into something a step down from Stars as character actors. There are exceptions to the rule of course; Kevin Spacey and Viggo Mortensen spring to mind, but so many of them coast on their star power.

Part of this can be laid at the feet of the American school of Method acting. It encouraged actors to use the techniques developed by the Russian director Konstantin Stanislavski to create a performance but omitted the key step of creating a character to portray the emotions. But it also revolves around the Star system that's always been a key to the film business.

In their bid to attract the attention and money of the movie going public, the studios created the idea of larger than life figures that were more important than the role they were playing or the film they were starring in. People go to see a Tom Cruise movie today like they went to see a Cary Grant movie or Humphrey Bogart movie in previous generations.

While the world of theatre may have its stars as well, they are less well known then their brethren and sisters in the world of film. They are renowned for their technique amongst the people they work with and the people who watch them on stage.

Long before Maggie Smith made a career out of playing elderly, stern British matriarchs, she was one of the most highly regarded female Shakespearian actors of her time. Aside from The Prime of Miss. Jean Brody, shot in the mid sixties the majority of her film experience has come latter in life.

What brought all this to mind was viewing a very remarkable small film last night on DVD called Bigger than the Sky. On the surface, a basic story of a nothing personality finding himself through being involved in a stage production of Cyrano de Bergerac; but along the way it evoked for me memories of the passion and invigoration which are part and parcel of the theatrical experience.

As seen through the eyes of the novice Peter Rooker (Marcus Thomas) one is guided past the surface stereotypes so often associated with theatre, to find the kernels of truth that resides at the heart of the art. Aided and abetted by Michael Degan (John Corbett of Northern Exposure fame) and the beauteous Grace Hargrove (Amy Smart), two vastly more experienced actors, he has his eyes opened to the magic inherit in the world of theatre.

John Corbett's Michael is a jaded actor who's reduced to playing out being an actor and forgotten why he started in the first place. Although the idea of the novice reinvigorating the bitter experienced actor is slightly clichéd, the chemistry between the shy and introverted Peter and the flamboyant Michael breaths life into something old.

For although Peter may envy Michael his talent and his exuberance he knows that he will never be him. He needs to be able to find his own way through his insecurities and doubts. The movie places a strain on our credibility by having Peter, a rank amateur, cast as the title character in Cyrano de Bergerac, but in the context of the film it's a perfect analogy.

Cyrano hides behind the deformity of his nose, making jokes, playing the fool, and being the good soldier. But all the time he holds his real emotions in check, feeling that because of the nose he is not worthy or deserving of love, and is too embarrassed to act otherwise. Peter at the start of the movie is a non-entity whose existence is barely noticed by those in his life.

He hides within that shell, because almost any time he steps out from within it he is shot down. Like Cyrano Peter finds reason to push out from under the shell. For him it's the realization there is something that makes him feel alive, and gives him a feeling of accomplishment like nothing else has ever done.

It's not just the work; it's also the feeling of being accepted as a part of a group for the first time in his life. He's taking part in an endeavour that is bigger than him which not only allows for personal satisfaction, but the realization he can make a difference and be appreciated by others.

It's a simple tale devoted to simple truths, which after all are the realest ones. The manner in which this movie depicts the simple truths about acting and theatre wonderfully evoked all my fondest memories and made me miss what once was. Perhaps those who watch Bigger Than The Sky who lack a background in theatre will not appreciate it as much, or might look on it all with a sceptical eye.

While it's true that some of the types may be exaggerated for effect, in essence it is accurate. Having worked with people as diverse as inmates in a Young Offender unit, young children, professionals in all aspects of the field, and lifers (people serving a life sentence for murder) and seen them all go through a similar process in their own way; I can only praise the people involved with this film for the accuracy of their depiction of theatre's magic.

I have vivid memories of staying up into the wee hours of the morning painting a backdrop for the last play I worked on. I still remember my feelings of pride and accomplishment when seeing it hung on stage and illuminated by the lights. It was only a small detail, probably barely noticed by the audience, but it was part of the magic of the performance. It was my imprint on the show and it made it special to me for that reason.

That's the true magic of what theatre can do for all of us if we are willing to take the chance.



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January 14, 2006

The problem with having an

The problem with having an acute illness is that every so often it reminds you of your limitations. You can be marching along for weeks and months on end, and then, all of sudden, you're bedridden. In my case it's a chronic pain condition that debilitates me and necessitates continual medication to allow me some semblance of a life.

Unfortunately the medication I'm on, morphine, is looked upon by some doctors as more dangerous than the physical condition you could be dealing with. I had not realized how fortunate I'd been until this past month.

I had been with the same family doctor for close to thirteen years and she had seen me through numerous illnesses and a variety of treatments. Back in 2001 when it became apparent that the pain was extreme enough to be affecting my abilities, she started looking for a combination of meds to help me cope.

Of course we started on the low end of the narcotics field, Oxycocete, then gradually developed a dose of morphine that allowed me to be functional. Morphine comes in two forms; quick acting low doses, or time released high dosages. By seeing how many of the 10mg pills I was being forced to take in a day, my doctor was able to figure out a long term dosage that would work.

Once you acclimatize to your dose this system is far healthier for your body and for cutting down on the slim chances of addiction. It maintains a threshold where the pain is pretty much always under control. On the occasions it peaks you can take one of the 10mg pills to bring it back into control.

I've also not limited my treatments to drug therapy. I've been a patient in the Kingston General Hospitals pain clinic since 2003, where the specialist I work with has been using trigger point pain block injections to try to eliminate the causes of the pain. The problem he's been having is managing to get at the root cause of the damage. The focal point is in the vicinity of my prostrate, which makes it one of the most inaccessible parts of the male anatomy.

He's had some success with providing temporary relief to some of the topical pain points, but because of the nature of the beast, they always flare up again because the centre remains untreated. I'm his favourite guinea pig, in the best sense of the word, because the incidences of male pelvic wall damage are very rare: so rare in fact that I was only his third patient of that type.

The other form of treatment I've been working on is psychotherapy. The same centres of the brain control memory and pain. It's how we learn what is safe, and what is unsafe. You touch a hot thing and remember the pain so you won't do it again. Unfortunately it also means that memories could potentially be the stimulus for your pain.

If, like me, you have suffered traumas in the past, those memories can be expressed through the remembered pain of the events. Through as system known as Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) my therapist and I have been going through my memories of the trauma in a manner that allows me to finally rid myself of reliving them as falshbacks. So far it has had no direct affect on the pain, but has helped me significantly in other ways.

So that leaves me still dependant on morphine to even get out of bed and do the things I'm able to do. The gratitude I have for this drug knows no bounds. Although I'm unable to work at a job, I'm able to write on a daily basis, with something close to coherency. I can take short walks, and enjoy my life to a certain degree. Of course it's still severely limited but much better than any alternative.

This last point was driven home quite forcibly in the last week. My family doctor closed her practice in October of 2005 to go into teaching. Kingston is experiencing a chronic shortage of family doctors so my wife and I considered ourselves lucky that we were able to hook up with a family practice clinic.

But from the get go there were warning signs this was not going to be the right place for us. Mysteriously my medical files never were forwarded, while my wife's were. I phoned them in the third week of November to book an appointment to renew my prescriptions only to be told that I couldn't be seen until January 6th. Fortunately, my pain doctor did me the great favour of renewing what I needed over the phone.

Then on the morning of January 6th the clinic phoned to cancel my appointment and rescheduled it to the following Tuesday. That too was than cancelled until the next Friday. What this meant to me was that I would miss two days of medication. By the time Friday rolled around I was bedridden, unable to move because the pain had begun to get out of control.

When I was finally seen by one of the doctors he turned out to be someone who would didn't believe in prescribing morphine. In the end I ended up spending eight hours in an emergency room so I could get enough pills to carry me through to my appointment next week in the pain clinic. Hopefully my doctor there will be willing to take over prescribing my medications. It should not be his responsibility, but I seem to have no other choice.

When pain is allowed to escalate past a certain point it takes a substantial amount of medication to bring the level back down to manageable again. It once took two days of intravenous injections every three hours to restore the balance. Thankfully I hadn't gone too far this time, and just a little extra dosing managed to restore the balance.

It's a horrible thing when your well being is dependant on the whims and prejudices of other people. Why is it there are doctors who refuse to treat a patient with the same medication they have been taking for three years? Hospitals have no problem using morphine as pain medication, or sending a patient home with a prescription for morphine after they are released, so why are there doctors still allowed to practice who refuse to recognise its benefits?

The whole addiction myth has long since been disproved. If you are in pain morphine is not addictive. I have been easily able to stop taking it on many occasions by properly through properly weaning myself down to zero. There have been none of the symptoms commonly associated with withdrawal.

Having been down the road of stopping various addictive behaviours I was anticipating all sorts of problems; sweats, chills, cramps, and the rest. But because my body no longer needed the drug for relief of pain, it was easy to rid myself of the need to take it.

As far as I was concerned I was put through living hell for two days by the bigotry and antiquated ideas of an incompetent doctor. It makes me wonder how many people are now needlessly suffering from pain that is eminently manageable. As a nurse in emergency said to me last night: "It's amazing how people who have never experienced pain can "know" so much about treating it"


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January 12, 2006

No matter what anyone says,

No matter what anyone says, have you ever noticed that it's the small stuff that causes all your problems? Richard Carlson can tell you all he likes, Don't Sweat The Small Stuff, but most of the time you don't have any choice in the matter. It just piles up without you noticing until one day your dam bursts.

That's the problem with the genuine small stuff; it's the inconsequential shit that happens on a daily basis to everybody. Being cut off in traffic, someone walking and talking on their cell phone and running into you, a door left to close in your face, cars blocking intersections so you can't walk across the street, drivers making right turns without checking for pedestrians on their right side; the list could go on forever.

What makes all these things so annoying is that they all come about because somebody isn't thinking. Well, maybe they are thinking, but it's only about themselves. You can call it what you want; lack of awareness, preoccupation, or rudeness. The reality is, most people act like there's nobody else in the world but them.

Have you ever been in a public place where they provide both seating and standing facilities? You and the people you're with are seated at a table. The next thing you know a whole crowd of people, with their backs to you, are standing pressed up against your chair. They have plenty of room to move away, but they don't. If you happen to say something to them, they look at you as if you were the rude one.

Imagine what must be like for people in wheelchairs. I've actually seen people prop their butts against the back of a wheel chair because they haven't been paying any attention to what they've been doing. It would have been wonderful if the person in the chair had moved out quickly enough that the leaner fell on their butt.

Courtesy is such an old fashioned word that it sounds quaintly archaic nowadays. Somehow the notion fell by the wayside in our rush to be free of the constraints of the past and the rebellion against the repressions of etiquette. What everybody seems to have missed out on was the difference between the two.

Etiquette is a code of behaviour designed to differentiate one class from another. It defines how you're supposed to behave at the dining table, how to treat those who are higher and lower in rank than you, and thousands of other inconsequential nuances of behaviour. The only people etiquette matters to are those awaiting the resurrection of the British Empire.

Courtesy has no rules or regulations. It's simply being aware of those around you and extending yourself enough to accommodate some of their needs. The only demand it places on a person is that they not think only of themselves.

Is that asking a lot? It doesn't seem like it should be, but it must, given the manner so many people treat those around them. It's almost like it has become cool to be rude, judging by the behaviour of those who jeer at the people they cut off. It would be nice, sort of, to say it was limited to young people, in the hopes that they would grow out of it. But there seems to be no age limitations on rudeness.

Young, middle aged, old, male, or female; it makes no difference. Rudeness is something that truly crosses all lines of race and sex. It's universal in application and practice. It's gotten to the point that when one does experience a rare act of courtesy you feel like giving the person responsible a medal.

Each day we go out and experience constant barrage of indignities; an assault that eventually can leave you reeling. Sometimes it doesn't make any difference whether it's directed at you or you just observe it happening, the result is the same. You are left feeling frustrated and angry by the wear and tear on your nerves from feeling like you're involved in a constant game of chicken when you go for a walk.

So when someone tells you not to worry about the small stuff in life, what exactly are they talking about? Do they never have to go out in public and deal with ordeal of just being in the world on a day-to-day basis? They say don't take things personally, but when the rudeness is directed at you, whether intentionally or not, it's almost impossible not to.

With common courtesy grown exceedingly uncommon, it's becoming harder and harder not to feel the world piling up on your shoulders. Civility and decency seem to have fallen into disfavour, resulting in the small stuff becoming too large to handle.


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January 11, 2006

Wow! Talk about synergy and

Wow! Talk about synergy and synchronicity man! It's like the stars aligned in just the most cosmic of fashions, and the universe opened its soul for all of us to step inside. It was right there for all to see too, in that most uptight of places The Globe And Mail on line today.

There they were; like an invitation from the cosmos to remind us of how to open our minds and bare our souls; two articles from two different countries working in conjunction. First, there was the man who started it all. I mean, he unlocked the secret of the stars for us over in Switzerland, and he, Albert Hoffman, turned one hundred yesterday.

Now here's the real mind-boggling thing; at the same time the grandfather is being celebrated, the original vehicle of consciousness expansion is being resurrected. Can you dig it! Ken Kesey's original School Bus is being restored and put back on the road.

That's right, the vehicle that carried the Merry Pranksters across the old U.S.A from 1964 to 1969; spreading the truth about truth, and teaching us to expand our minds, has risen from the dead. It made its last trip to Woodstock in 69, and then was laid to rest. In 1990 it was given its final reward and pushed into the swamp out back of the Kesey farm where it could finally achieve pure oneness with mother earth.

Those of us who never experienced "being on the bus", but only read about it through the eyes of Tom Wolf in Electric Kool Aid Acid Test, still most likely think of the bus named "Furthur" as our initiation to the psychedelic. With the most famous driver in literature at the wheel, Neil Cassidy, (the real life basis for Dean Moriarty in Jack Kerouac's On The Road) and a fridge full of LSD spiked drinks, they set out to film themselves and America.

Dr. Hoffman discovered Lysergic acid diethylamide-25 (LSD) in 1938 while he was experimenting with the medicinal properties of a fungus. It wasn't until 1943 that he accidentally became the first human subject for testing. He spilt three drops on a finger during a laboratory test and experienced the first trip. He also experienced the first bummer (bad trip) a few days latter when he deliberately ingested a larger amount.

Due to the drug's ability to exaggerate inner problems and conflicts, bad trips are usually a reflection of some inner conflict or problem. What Dr. Hoffman hoped was the drug would be useful as a means of treating and diagnosing psychiatric ailments like schizophrenia, and never foresaw it having a recreational potential.

Still to this day he abhors both the ban on the drug and its abuse by people looking to get high: "The history of LSD to date amply demonstrates the catastrophic consequences that can ensue when its profound effect is misjudged and the substance is mistaken for a pleasure drug." He continues to advocate for the revoking of the ban on the grounds that it is not addictive and has vast potential for use in treatment.

In the 1950's Ken Kesey picked up extra money volunteering his services as a drug tester. This was how he was introduced to LSD. Somehow or other he was able to smuggle a supply of the drug out of the lab and begin using it on his own.

While working a night shift as an intern at a psychiatric institution he began taking doses and observing the patients as they slept. It was from these observations that his most famous novel One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest was born. It seems only fitting than that the bus was paid for from money he earned from that novel.

The bus was to be a grand experiment with living and creating while stoned all the time. There were casualties among those involved in the form of bad trips, people's insecurities coming to the fore. If you were unable to deal with facing your own demons this type of experience would have been shattering.

The image that bus projected of freedom and creativity carried across the years and fuelled the drug culture of the sixties and the seventies. Even though Kesey himself advocated going beyond drugs in the mid-sixties; that it was time to take the next step in self-exploration and growth; the influence of the bus persisted.

People would read Tom Wolf's book and revel in the descriptions of the wild parties with the Hell's Angels and the Grateful Dead and ignore the grim realities of the bad trips and hospitalizations. They also failed to take into account how quality could vary from manufacturer to manufacturer.

While Kesey and his cohorts were ingesting what was a pure LSD, when people whose scruples weren't as pure got their hands on its manufacture, there was no knowing what you were taking. In latter days one of the key ingredients, in what was being sold as acid, was Strychnine. The first clue you would get to how badly doctored the dose had been, was the size of your stomach cramps.

No one knows what long-term physical or neurological damage heavy ingestion of LSD have caused, or could potentially cause. Psychological problems have been well documented but there have been no studies on what the effects of base materials like Strychnine could have on the nervous system.

Having known people who have contracted diseases of the nervous system like Multiple Sclerosis latter in life, after having ingested LSD on a regular basis for years, it makes me wonder. Does the drug only work on the brain or does it have more far reaching effects when taken in large doses?

Ken Kesey and Dr Hoffman had a lot in common. They were both researching the potentials of LSD. Dr. Hoffman looked on it as a tool that could be utilized in a clinical setting under the supervision of medical staff. Kesey was experimenting with looking at the world in different way; liberating the mind from the shackles of convention and training. Like the beats of the 1950's, Kesey unwittingly created a romantic persona everybody wanted to emulate.

Not having the access to the quality of LSD that Kesey did, or the self-assuredness needed to ingest it in large doses, the path he thought he was blazing towards freedom became littered with those not ready to face their own demons. It's hard to attach blame to Kesey, as he never advocated or documented this experiment; others were responsible for creating the myth.

Like his compatriot Nobel shouldn't be held accountable for today's suicide bombers, Dr. Albert Hoffman shouldn't be held to account for his invention of LSD. What was meant to stay within the hands of doctors and clinicians became available to the general public through bathtub chemists and profiteers. Abuse any psychotropic medication and there is bound to be trouble.

Ken Kesey and Dr. Hoffman both saw a potential for using LSD as a means to a specific end. Neither of them was advocating its use as a means to get "high" or "stoned". Not with standing Tim Leary's advocacy to "Turn On, Tune In, and Drop Out", no drug is a cure all for what ails anybody or the answer to society's problems.

Given the nostalgia and the hoopla that's bound to be generated by the resurrection of "Furthur", the original magic bus, there's something to keep in mind. She may have represented a generation's dream of freedom and self-expression, but some dreams end up being nightmares.

--------

Wow! Talk about synergy and

Wow! Talk about synergy and synchronicity man! It's like the stars aligned in just the most cosmic of fashions, and the universe opened its soul for all of us to step inside. It was right there for all to see too, in that most uptight of places The Globe And Mail on line today.

There they were; like an invitation from the cosmos to remind us of how to open our minds and bare our souls; two articles from two different countries working in conjunction. First, there was the man who started it all. I mean, he unlocked the secret of the stars for us over in Switzerland, and he, Albert Hoffman, turned one hundred yesterday.

Now here's the real mind-boggling thing; at the same time the grandfather is being celebrated, the original vehicle of consciousness expansion is being resurrected. Can you dig it! Ken Kesey's original School Bus is being restored and put back on the road.

That's right, the vehicle that carried the Merry Pranksters across the old U.S.A from 1964 to 1969; spreading the truth about truth, and teaching us to expand our minds, has risen from the dead. It made its last trip to Woodstock in 69, and then was laid to rest. In 1990 it was given its final reward and pushed into the swamp out back of the Kesey farm where it could finally achieve pure oneness with mother earth.

Those of us who never experienced "being on the bus", but only read about it through the eyes of Tom Wolf in Electric Kool Aid Acid Test, still most likely think of the bus named "Furthur" as our initiation to the psychedelic. With the most famous driver in literature at the wheel, Neil Cassidy, (the real life basis for Dean Moriarty in Jack Kerouac's On The Road) and a fridge full of LSD spiked drinks, they set out to film themselves and America.

Dr. Hoffman discovered Lysergic acid diethylamide-25 (LSD) in 1938 while he was experimenting with the medicinal properties of a fungus. It wasn't until 1943 that he accidentally became the first human subject for testing. He spilt three drops on a finger during a laboratory test and experienced the first trip. He also experienced the first bummer (bad trip) a few days latter when he deliberately ingested a larger amount.

Due to the drug's ability to exaggerate inner problems and conflicts, bad trips are usually a reflection of some inner conflict or problem. What Dr. Hoffman hoped was the drug would be useful as a means of treating and diagnosing psychiatric ailments like schizophrenia, and never foresaw it having a recreational potential.

Still to this day he abhors both the ban on the drug and its abuse by people looking to get high: "The history of LSD to date amply demonstrates the catastrophic consequences that can ensue when its profound effect is misjudged and the substance is mistaken for a pleasure drug." He continues to advocate for the revoking of the ban on the grounds that it is not addictive and has vast potential for use in treatment.

In the 1950's Ken Kesey picked up extra money volunteering his services as a drug tester. This was how he was introduced to LSD. Somehow or other he was able to smuggle a supply of the drug out of the lab and begin using it on his own.

While working a night shift as an intern at a psychiatric institution he began taking doses and observing the patients as they slept. It was from these observations that his most famous novel One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest was born. It seems only fitting than that the bus was paid for from money he earned from that novel.

The bus was to be a grand experiment with living and creating while stoned all the time. There were casualties among those involved in the form of bad trips, people's insecurities coming to the fore. If you were unable to deal with facing your own demons this type of experience would have been shattering.

The image that bus projected of freedom and creativity carried across the years and fuelled the drug culture of the sixties and the seventies. Even though Kesey himself advocated going beyond drugs in the mid-sixties; that it was time to take the next step in self-exploration and growth; the influence of the bus persisted.

People would read Tom Wolf's book and revel in the descriptions of the wild parties with the Hell's Angels and the Grateful Dead and ignore the grim realities of the bad trips and hospitalizations. They also failed to take into account how quality could vary from manufacturer to manufacturer.

While Kesey and his cohorts were ingesting what was a pure LSD, when people whose scruples weren't as pure got their hands on its manufacture, there was no knowing what you were taking. In latter days one of the key ingredients, in what was being sold as acid, was Strychnine. The first clue you would get to how badly doctored the dose had been, was the size of your stomach cramps.

No one knows what long-term physical or neurological damage heavy ingestion of LSD have caused, or could potentially cause. Psychological problems have been well documented but there have been no studies on what the effects of base materials like Strychnine could have on the nervous system.

Having known people who have contracted diseases of the nervous system like Multiple Sclerosis latter in life, after having ingested LSD on a regular basis for years, it makes me wonder. Does the drug only work on the brain or does it have more far reaching effects when taken in large doses?

Ken Kesey and Dr Hoffman had a lot in common. They were both researching the potentials of LSD. Dr. Hoffman looked on it as a tool that could be utilized in a clinical setting under the supervision of medical staff. Kesey was experimenting with looking at the world in different way; liberating the mind from the shackles of convention and training. Like the beats of the 1950's, Kesey unwittingly created a romantic persona everybody wanted to emulate.

Not having the access to the quality of LSD that Kesey did, or the self-assuredness needed to ingest it in large doses, the path he thought he was blazing towards freedom became littered with those not ready to face their own demons. It's hard to attach blame to Kesey, as he never advocated or documented this experiment; others were responsible for creating the myth.

Like his compatriot Nobel shouldn't be held accountable for today's suicide bombers, Dr. Albert Hoffman shouldn't be held to account for his invention of LSD. What was meant to stay within the hands of doctors and clinicians became available to the general public through bathtub chemists and profiteers. Abuse any psychotropic medication and there is bound to be trouble.

Ken Kesey and Dr. Hoffman both saw a potential for using LSD as a means to a specific end. Neither of them was advocating its use as a means to get "high" or "stoned". Not with standing Tim Leary's advocacy to "Turn On, Tune In, and Drop Out", no drug is a cure all for what ails anybody or the answer to society's problems.

Given the nostalgia and the hoopla that's bound to be generated by the resurrection of "Furthur", the original magic bus, there's something to keep in mind. She may have represented a generation's dream of freedom and self-expression, but some dreams end up being nightmares.

--------

January 10, 2006

There are parts of my

There are parts of my life that I'm not proud of; parts that I wouldn't tell anyone about except those I could be guaranteed wouldn't look at me funny for the rest of my days. Even though most of it's long in the past, and I have reached a certain level of internal peace on a personal level, they are not events I'm going to be trumpeting from the roof tops.

In recent post I've alluded to some nasty things that happened to me during my childhood and how that led to behaviour on my part that would at best be called anti social. But the details are nobody's business but my own, and those who had direct involvement in the matter.

I will sometimes cite my own case as an example of how things in this world are not as ideal as they should be, but I don't consider myself, or my behaviour at the time, as anything special or interesting. It was just another sorry tale of somebody making the wrong choices when push came to shove, and proving too weak to resist temptation.

Escape from pain and fear are the hardest temptations in the world to resist. If you were to scratch the skin of many an addict, you'd find someone who was running away from something in their past they didn't want to deal with. The absolute hell that you go through when you finally confront those dark places in your soul is nothing you'd want to wish on anyone.

In the last fifteen years or so, I've gotten to know a number of men and women who have served a great deal of prison time. Some of them have been "lifers", people who were in jail on murder charges but since been released. They will spend the rest of their days on parole, knowing that if they make one small mistake, they can look forward to finishing their sentence.

Some of them had served ten years, some fifteen and some even longer, but all of them are just grateful for having survived and being given a chance for quiet. They don't seek attention; in fact that's the last thing they want. After more than a decade where everyone knows your whole life; where people can watch you go to the bathroom and shower; and the concept of privacy is as alien as freedom, who wants the spotlight.

Some are thrust into the spotlight because of their notoriety, or because they have done some amazing thing to reform themselves, but for the most part they are left alone save for having to report to the police station and their parole officer. These so-called hardened criminals and violent men just want some of the quiet that they deprived themselves of through their own actions.

The one thing that is consistent about anyone I've known who has done long time is that the last thing they want to do is talk about what they've gone through. As a very short timer my experiences pales in comparison to theirs, but I share the same reluctance to speak, except, as I said before in broad, general terms.

The person who is eager to speak about what they did, and how and why etc is usually viewed with mistrust, and as someone who is probably bull shiting. Anyone who needs to talk about what they've done that much is trying to make themselves out to be something they aren't.

Why would you want to boast about having a criminal record? Why would you want to boast about being addicted to drugs and alcohol? Why would you lie about such things? What kind of asshole goes to great lengths to convince people that he is all of those horrible things? Especially when those of us who have been in some of those hells, wish with all of our hearts it never happened.

An author name Jerry Frey has made himself a small mint out of telling about his life of crime and addiction. If he wants to put himself on display like some sort of freak show for the public to look at that's his own business. One can only wonder at the people who want to read it, but like they say: there's no accounting for taste.

But what raises my ire is the news reported over at The Smoking Gun.com that Mr. Frey may have not only exaggerated the incidents portrayed in his book, but completely fabricated them. Of course Mr. Frey and his lawyers have denied this accusation and threatened the folk over at The Smoking Gun with all sorts of legal trouble if they published their story.

The Smoking Gun seems to be certain enough of its research and facts to risk it and has gone ahead and published their story anyway. In the litigation happy world that we live in now, being confident enough to publish in the face of a threatened lawsuit is testimony itself to the legitimacy of their claims.

It's one thing to exploit yourself like a cheap hooker to turn a quick buck, it's another altogether to fabricate the means to that end. If these accusations are true and his book is a mix of lies and exaggerations; Jerry Frey, his publisher and anyone else complicit in advocating this book as factual content, have a lot to answer for.

One wonders why, if Mr. Frey considered it so important to reveal his soul, he first tried to peddle this as a work of fiction. According to The Smoking Gun article it wasn't until his current publisher suggested it would be better as a work of non-fiction that lo and behold it turned out to be just that.

Where were the fact checkers for this publisher on the day they accepted the manuscript? It wouldn't have been too hard to do, as The Smoking Gun has done, turn up an arrest report that contradicts what Mr. Frey refers to as the pivotal scene, sorry, moment, in his life of crime.

Of course now that Mr. Frey claims to have gone around and expunged all his criminal records, because they are nobody's business but his own, (a bit rich coming from the man who has made a fortune telling everybody about them) it will be hard to prove or disprove whether they existed or not. With no proof to either substantiate or refute his statements, all the witnesses to his so-called crime sprees seemed to have died, it looks like the credibility of those involved will be what decides the truth of the matter.

The interesting thing about Mr. Frey is that, based on how he's depicted in The Smoking Gun report, his current behaviour has a lot in common with that of an addict. He believes he's the centre of the universe, that nobody else's problems are as important as his, and that he's completely justified in everything he does.

If a man wants to pretend that he has a sordid past, he's perfectly entitled too. It's sort of a pathetic way of garnering attention, but too each their own. But there's a difference between talking yourself up in a bar to impress the locals, and writing a book about it.

That sort of fraud is insulting enough as it is to the countless men and women who have legitimately reformed after serving time. But to compound the matter by claiming to have been an addict and have some sort of secret to recovery is not just insulting it's close to being criminally negligent.

I don't care if Mr. Frey is telling the truth about his life or not, but to reduce recovery from substance abuse addiction to the simple catch phrase of "Hold On" is inappropriate and misleading. It may stop you from taking a drink or sticking the needle in your arm for a while, but it does nothing to fix the behaviour that caused those symptoms.

You never actually lose the physical cravings; they just get easier to deal with. Ask anyone who has successfully stopped smoking cigarettes; they'll tell you what it's like. It's been eleven years since I've taken a drink, yet last week I was walking down the street and passed a liquor store and felt an actual physical craving in the pit of my stomach for a bottle of wine.

I could remember, ever so clearly the exact sensations and tastes of drinking wine, and my whole body craved it for one tiny moment. Eleven years is an awful long time to just "Hold On" You need something a little more substantial than that. Now I'm not a big advocate of Alcoholics Anonymous for my own reasons, but the key thing is to seek help from a therapist of some kind or another.

As an addict in recovery you are not going to be honest with yourself. You've been lying to yourself for years; why's that going to change now? You cannot throw off years of conditioned behaviour without outside help.

Have you ever heard the expression "a dry drunk'? It refers to people who've stopped drinking but still act like the same person. They're the ones who keep falling off the wagon because they haven't done anything to address the reasons why they were drinking in the first place. Simply stopping is only the first step in a long arduous journey.

Not only is Mr. Frey's claim misleading, it is insulting to all the men and women who have done the real work required to free themselves from the chains of addiction. Unlike the substances we used to abuse, there's no quick fix involved here; there never is to real problems.

There are a lot of troubled people in our society. People who have had run ins with the law, and problems with substance abuse. Very few people who have gone about the business of trying to rehabilitate and recover have ever felt the need to write a book about their lives or their struggles. The majority of them just want to forget it ever happened or they regard it as nobody's business but their own.

Mr Frey has written a book where he regales his reader with tales of his misadventures and problems with drugs. The book has been a big success with the middle class women who watch and worship Ophrah. They are as far removed from the world of drugs and crime as one could possibly get and still be living on the same planet.

They've been titillated by his descriptions of carnage and self-destruction, and thrilled by his redemption. He's a real life desperado there for their reading and listening pleasure. Isn't he such a sensitive man because he's revealed all these intimate details of himself? Reading his book allows them to show how compassionate they are because they are able to forgive him for the misdeeds of his past.

But I want to know about his misdeeds of the present. Who's going to hold him accountable if this all turns out to be a lie? Who is going to apologise to all the real people out there who have been ignored by society for years as they've struggled to rehabilitate themselves for letting this man steal their dignity by masquerading as one of them?

Whose going to help all those people he's duped into believing he knows what he's talking about when it comes to addiction recovery? I started out angry when I was writing this article, now I'm just sad. If this was all lies, what kind of pathetic life has this man had up to this point that he felt that he needed to pretend to be notorious?

There are many people out there who would give anything to have those moments back in their lives that took them across the line into criminal behaviour. It is simply beyond my comprehension why anybody would publicly pretend to have been down that road.

There's nothing glamorous about crime and drug addiction. To see Jerry Frey being lionized for his book is bad enough; to have it turn out to be a pack of lies would only serve his champions right. His book's trivialization of the people who have made a real commitment to change, is more criminal than anything he claims to have done.


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January 09, 2006

The body count mounts on

The body count mounts on a weekly basis and politicians seem helpless to do anything about it. They talk about it; throw money into Royal Commissions; and even tighten the laws. They've even had some success, as the death toll each year is less and less, but lives are still being lost at an alarming rate.

They can talk all they want about social-economic conditions; the variety of reasons behind each occurrence; but nothing changes the fact that people are dying on a daily, if not more, basis. This intolerable situation must be stopped.

The question of course is how? Everybody has their own answer: enforce existing laws to the maximum, change the laws to impose harsher penalties, and, of course, look at the social economic climate that creates the circumstances that allow these deaths to occur. Some people say that if you took the means out of the hands of people, than the death rate could be eliminated, but, given current societal conditions, that's probably impractical as well as impossible.

Nobody who owns or drives a vehicle right is very likely to surrender ownership, or give up their right to drive, just on the off chance that it might save some lives. The right to drive and own a car might as well be written into the constitution of North American culture. Vehicular ownership has become a modern inalienable right.

What did you think I was talking about, guns? Guns are petty ante in Canada when it comes to being a cause of death compared to the carnage caused by cars and trucks. As of 2004, according to Statistics Canada, vehicular deaths outnumber homicides by almost 5 to 1. Bill McCauley, spokesman for Statistics Canada, is quoted in the Globe and Mail as saying: "We don't call them accidents, we call them crashes or collisions. Most of them could have been avoided"

Drunk driving of course causes forty percent of the fatalities among drivers, while nearly a third of the fatalities among passengers is caused by a refusal to wear a seat belt. In other words, what looks to be about 70% of all traffic deaths are preventable. That translates into roughly 1900 of the 2730 driving fatalities in 2004 in Canada were because someone had broken the law.

But driving deaths aren't sexy. You don't get the same photo op. posing at the twisted wreckage of a pick-up truck on some back road as you do posing with sub-machine guns. Nobody raises a stink when a somebody gets off with a fine for a drunk driving first offence, even though your chances of being killed by someone like them are five times greater then you being gunned down.

If there were anything that just might be considered an equal, if not greater, sacred cow, to the gun in the United States, it would have to be the car. In Canada, where we don't have the history associated with armaments, a driver's licence holds pride of place in a person's wallet over a weapons permit, allowing cars to rule the roost.

In most parts of North American society the obtainment of the driver's licence marks the first right of passage into adulthood. Most jurisdictions grant this first symbol of maturity to its citizens at the age of sixteen. After some basic instruction, and familiarization with the laws governing the roads, this small square of plastic with your picture on it grants you the right to control close to a one thousand pounds of metal and glass, propelled on four wheels by an engine with the power of over three hundred horses.

Leaving aside all the innuendo about males and compensation for sexual impotency (how much thrust does your engine have), you put any person inside a midsize or larger vehicle and I defy them to remember their circumstances. It's one thing to be driving in a compact or small car and see the road whizzing by right outside your window; it's another all together to sit in genuine Corinthian leather comfort with the road no more then an annoying buzz on your soundtrack.

When you are as distanced from the road as much as modern vehicles allow you to be, it is far easier to forget that there can be potentially fatal consequences from one moment of inattention. With people now driving anything form reconditioned battle-wagons (Humvees) to massive pickup trucks and turbo charged S.U.V.s in order to make the drive to work in a little more comfort, the problem is severely exasperated.

We may not be able to kill ourselves as easily behind the wheel of one of those vehicles. But anyone driving a small or compact car probably can't help experiencing a moment of panic when they see one of those monsters showing up in their rear view mirror. There's no doubt in anyone's mind that in the case of an argument who the winner will be.

The status that comes with owning one of these vehicles far outweighs the any other consideration. Why else would you own something like a four-wheel drive, eight cylinder, all terrain vehicle for picking up the dry cleaning? The car companies, of course, pander to this by producing vehicles that have less to do with road awareness, and more to do with style, comfort and image.

Now, you wouldn't want your government to have any control over things like status and style, (At least no one who's been around recently. Pierre Trudeau had a certain panache that probably would have made him an acceptable style tyrant) so there role in this has to come in somewhere else. The laws need to be changed so that there is zero tolerance when it comes too careless and drunk driving.

Anybody whose driving is clearly at blame for an accident shouldn't be allowed to drive. If it was caused by, what can be proved as, negligence, than their licence should be revoked immediately upon conviction. No exceptions. No compromise should be acceptable when human lives are at risk.

In Canada, where any prison sentence of more than two years results in doing time in a federal penitentiary, any drunk driving should be include a sentence of more than two year and permanent loss of the right to drive a motorized vehicle. Any drunk driver that ends up killing somebody else should automatically be charged with manslaughter. In fact any driver whose carelessness results in someone's death should be treated in the same manner as any other person charged with a killing.

If their lawyer can prove mitigating circumstances that reduce their culpability, so be it. But in the case of a drunk driver, where they committed the crime the second they climbed behind the wheel of their vehicle and started the engine, there should be no allowances.

Obviously they're circumstances where a driver is placed in a position where the inevitable is unavoidable. Lawmakers will have to make very clear definitions on what should and shouldn't constitute an avoidable incident. Police officers are already conversant in figuring out the circumstances of a collision; who's at fault and what, if any, traffic violations were committed. They would continue to follow their normal procedures, but now lay different charges.

But for some reason our lawmakers lack the will necessary to bring new laws onto the books concerning vehicular misconduct. At the risk of sounding cynical it would almost seem like they are willing to sacrifice a couple of thousand lives each year rather than implement laws that might prove unpopular.

But what they fail to understand is that the majority of drivers would have no problem with a zero tolerance attitude towards careless and endangering driving. Since they are the ones sharing the roads with the danger, they have the most to gain from better protection.

You'd think that a society that expresses concern over the senseless death of people through gun fire and other forms of violent crime, would have laws in place for activity that claimed five times the number of lives. But according to our current laws, a life lost to a drunk or reckless driver is not as valuable as someone shot down in the road.

If a body ends up dead on the street it shouldn't matter how it ended up there; the punishment needs to be equal.


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January 08, 2006

There's an old song called

There's an old song called "Behind Closed Doors" which seems to have been performed by nearly every country star. I can't really remember much of anything about the song, except a line from the chorus: "What goes on behind closed doors". That one line kept popping into my brain while I was watching the DVD of The Chumscrubber from DreamWorks SKG Films.


The Chumscrubber is set in one of those beautiful to look at, but rotten to the core, suburbs that have become such fodder for films and T.V. in recent years. American Beauty springs to mind as the first in the line of recent depictions of dysfunctional dwellings outside the downtown core, that has recently culminated in the cat fight that is Desperate Housewives.

No matter if they are satire or soap, they are all tilling the fertile ground that Peyton Place first harvested of life behind the closed doors of "the little boxes made of ticky-tacky". With such vast amounts of celluloid having been devoted to the subject already, you would think that there would be little or nothing new left to say on the matter.

But as The Chumscrubber proves, what makes the suburbs so attractive is there's always a new way too shoot an old story. Although there have been other movies made about dysfunction and teenage alienation within this context, this stands head and shoulders above the rest. Director Arie Posin and writer Zac Stanford have taken the shop worn clichés that clutter these movies and managed to make them new and original.

There's our hero Dean Stiffle (Jamie Bell with such a convincing American accent I didn't recognise him as the kid from Billy Elliot), who can't get anyone to listen to him. Even when he finds the body of his best friend swinging from the rafters, the most he gets from his psychologist father is perhaps a chapter in his next book and more pills.

Troy, the boy who hung himself, provided a service to the adolescent community by keeping them supplied with happy pills. With his death a lot of people are looking at suffering some severe withdrawal. Finding Troy's stash becomes key for the trio of people who passed them out amongst the population.

When Dean refuses to be induced by the female member, Crystal (Camilla Belle) the other two, Billy (Justin Chatwin) and Lee (Lou Taylor Pucci), decide that where persuasion won't work, coercion just might. In an attempt to prove out this theory they decide to kidnap his younger brother. As far as they're concerned snatching the wrong kid, Charlie Bratley (Thomas Curtis) instead of Charlie Stiffle (Rory Culkin), is only a minor inconvenience.

Meanwhile back in the adult's world, things aren't going so smoothly either. The wedding of uber designer Terry Bratley (Rita Wilson) and Mayor Michael Ebbs (Ralph Fiennes) and Troy's memorial service are scheduled to run at the same time across the street from each other. Troy's mom (Glen Close) is busy telling all and sundry that she doesn't blame them for his suicide.

Dean's parents, occupy a world in which neither of their children really exists. Mom (Allison Janney) sells lifestyle choices (vitamins) over the phone and prepares massive breakfasts in an attempt to create family moments. Dad, the afore mentioned pop psychologist (William Fichtner), when not detailing his family's inner workings for his latest book, prepares for his next book tour.

The two separate worlds of parents and children orbit around each other like a moon around a planet. Very rarely do their paths intersect, and when they do the needs of the parents eclipse the activities of the children. Oblivious to the point of blindness, the parents have no idea what their children are up to or even where they are.

It takes Terry almost two days to realize her son Charlie isn't at home locked up in his bedroom sulking over her impending marriage. When Crystal comes to seek Dean's help with freeing Charlie from Billy and Lee's clutches she sums up the whole situation with the words: "You're the only one who cares"

It's true; for all his pretence of not caring for anything, Dean is the only one who even attempts to think beyond his own needs. He ends up being the only person who acts remotely like an adult. While the parents wallow in their self-indulgence, ignoring him when he tries to tell them what's going on under their very noses, he takes up the slack.

Not only does he rescue Charlie, he's the one who manages to let Troy's mother finally grieve for her son. In a wonderful scene between Jamie Bell and Glenn Close at the memorial service Dean tells her about the son she didn't know.

He's the only one who understands the guilt she feels over Troy's death because he feels it just as badly. With just the two of them looking at a picture of Troy, and Glenn Close wearing the beatific smile of a person finally freed to grieve, the movie's two planets are briefly in conjunction.

What makes this movie work so well is the quality of the direction and the acting. Not once does an actor do anything but play their part straight. No matter how ridiculous or surreal the action may seem, nothing is ever played for laughs. It's that sincerity, that depth of believability in the performances, that gives the satire in this movie its bite.

Unlike previous satires about life in the suburbs, The Chumscrubber gives equal time to the two separate worlds of adolescence and adult hood. Without parents to provide nurturing and guidance the children have turned to pharmaceuticals for their comfort. Sucking at the teat of Ritalin is a poor substitute for a parent's concern but when you're lost and confused you take succour where you can find it.

In one final nod to reality there is no real happy ending to The Chumscrubber. The adults don't grow up, they continue on with their lives oblivious to their children. Salvation comes for Crystal and Dean in the shape of escaping into each other's company, their own private planet where people care about each other.

Through out the movie we see various people playing a video game called The Chumscrubber. In a post nuclear holocaust world a teenager survives, only to have his head fall off. Somehow he must continue to make his way in a world gone mad, even though he's lost his head. Although not the subtlest of analogies for the events depicted, does help to make it clear how confusing the world is when viewed through the eyes of a teenager incapable of coping any more.

This movie should serve as an antidote to all those people who ever thought, for some strange reason; they would like to be a teenager again. After seeing The Chumscrubber you'll just feel grateful to have survived adolescence more or less intact and to have escaped into the care-free days of adult hood. Who needs all that responsibility?

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January 07, 2006

There was a time when

There was a time when it was typical to portray the governments of Latin America as being run by petty tyrants. Either militant revolutionary leaders dressed in fatigues, or high ranking military officers in ornate uniforms, were the options as depicted in North American media.

They were the fodder for jokes by stand up comedians: "Some countries in South America change governments as often as I change shirts", and an easy means for feelings of superiority on the part of our population. Who hasn't at some point in time made a caustic comment on what appears to be a revolving door policy on leadership: "You don't like the government? Give it a week it will change."

Although some of that instability can be put down to petty power struggles among military officers, and some to genuine popular uprisings; unfortunately a great deal of this climate was the result of policies of past American governments. Governments who attempted to reverse years of disproportionate distribution of wealth and land among their populations would, more likely than not, find themselves replaced by ones more sympathetic to the interests of the business elite.

Since the military in a country are the ones who have the means to precipitate a government's overthrow, it was only a matter of searching out some dissatisfied officer and offering him the figurehead position of President to ensure a return to the status quo. In some instances, like Chile and General Pinochet, the officer could be given real power because he was a part of the ruling class.

It wasn't so much that the American government was concerned with the welfare of the aristocracy in these countries, although they were their biggest allies. They would be reacting to pressure brought to bear on them by corporations who had been exploiting the people and the land for years. Any perceived threat to their profit margin either by the potential for nationalization, or even improved rights for workers, would send them running for help.

But times change and foreign policy focus switches. New and more dangerous threats are perceived to appear in other parts of the world. America has been fairly quiet in the fields of South America since the defeat of the Sandinistas in Nicaragua. Of course there also hasn't been too much to get heated up about since than.

But times have changed again and America's attention is returning to its old fiefdoms. There has been a general wave of reform that has swept through South America; marked by the election of such people as Luiz Inacio (Lula) da Silva in Brazil, Ricardo Lagos in Chile, Néstor Kirchner in Argentina, and Tabaré Vázquez in Uruguay.

While those gentlemen may represent the new face of South American politics, and mark a turning away from International Monetary Fund (I.M.F) imposed economies of deprivation and spending cuts, they are not the real source of worry for the American government.

That dubious distinction falls to two new faces, and one old familiar one. Hugo Chávez in Venezuela, Evo Morales in Bolivia, and of course everyone's favourite bogeyman; Fidel Castro of Cuba. As long as Fidel was isolated in his little Caribbean island, the American government was satisfied with simply trying to starve him out. But now with election of a third potential revolutionary leader in the form of Mr. Morales things may change.

In an article in the Globe and Mail Pablo Policzer, holder of the Canada Research Chair in Latin American Studies at the University of Calgary, talks about how attempts at massive changes in society in Latin America have always either failed or come at the expense of democracy.

His claim that land reform and nationalization can't be achieved without the surrendering of democratic rights is a taste of the type of rhetoric we can expect to start seeing from pundits and the White House if Mr. Morales starts to carry out the land reforms needed to lift the local indigenous peoples out of poverty.

The attempts to portray Hugo Chavez as a non-democratically elected leader, in spite of his continued electoral triumphs, are an example of the manor in which Mr. Morales can expect to be attacked. As in Venezuela it shouldn't be hard to find someone in opposition who will be willing to make unsubstantiated claims about voting irregularities in order to cast aspersions on the legitimacy of the election results.

Mr. Policzer cites the overthrow of Salvador Allende's elected government of Chile in 1973 as an example of how major social change can't be implemented in South America through democratic means. By doing this he is, perhaps unwittingly, giving voice to the real reason: it won't be allowed to happen.

In Chile an American backed coup brought the military to power under General Augusto Pinochet in one of the bloodier coups seen in South America. Thousands of Allende's supporters were rounded up and herded into a soccer stadium and executed. Allende himself was murdered, and people like teachers and union workers were forced to flee for their lives.

If, as Mr. Policzer says, Mr. Allende casts a large shadow over Mr. Morales' attempts in Bolivia, it's not because he represents the failure of an elected government to carry out revolutionary social change. It's because what happened in Chile is simply indicative of the attitude taken by American governments towards Latin American countries.

The current administration has already shown its willingness to treat Latin American countries simply as satellites with no real self-determination. Hugo Chavez is no real danger to the Americans militarily or economically. Why not allow Venezuela to control its own natural resources and make back the money that's been taken out of the country by foreign nationals over the years?

Mr. Morales received over 50% of the direct popular vote in a three-candidate election, not only ensuring his election after only one ballot, but also demonstrating the depth of support in Bolivia for his platform. Mr. Policzer claims that the question remains whether the changes he proposes will be consistent with democracy. Maybe the question should be why is he asking that question?

Why is it that in Latin America when a government is democratically elected with a clear majority, their policies, unlike those of any other elected government, can be construed as undemocratic? He was elected with the mandate of bringing about massive social change and improving the lot of some of the poorest people in the world. Whatever he does to achieve that end, especially considering his margin of victory, is being undertaken because the majority of people have approved.

How much more democratic can you get then that. If Mr. Policzer is so concerned about democracy, he should be worried about whether or not that the democratic rights of the people of Bolivia are respected by foreign powers. Will Mr. Morales be allowed to carry out his reforms without being undermined or overthrown is more pertinent then worrying about how democratic it is to redistribute inactive land to the poor.

The real shadow from the past that is cast over Mr. Morales, and all attempts to create an egalitarian society in Latin America, is the threat of American intervention. Let Mr. Morales have at least one term in office without provocation, threats, and intimidation before making a judgement on his democracy.


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January 06, 2006

Yesterday it was all over

Yesterday it was all over the news pages on the Web: Pat Robertson says Arial Sharon's stroke an Act of God. I was toying with the idea of writing something about it, but wasn't feeling too excited about the whole idea. He's painted a bull's eye on his chest so many times since he ran for President that sometimes I think it's a deliberate ploy.

He'll make the most outrageous of comments, but in such a manner, that when he's rightly pilloried for it, he can back off and look all innocent and confused. "Good gracious" he seems to be saying; "I didn't mean to cause such a ruckus". He will smile his folksy smile, chuckle his little laugh, and shake his head in rueful admission of his own foolishness.

If you keep at him after that he begins to come across like the victim not the perpetrator in the circumstances. Not just to his followers either, but to anybody who falls for his aw shucks, folksy charm. All of a sudden he looks like the innocent country preacher who's ventured into waters he knows nothing about, and the sharks of the media have gone into a feeding frenzy over nothing of consequence.

The fact that he was able to trivialize calling for the assassination of a head of state into something minor is just one example of the man's political savvy. His experience with the press during his ill fated seeking of the Republican nomination back in 1992 taught him lessons he's not forgotten. He now knows how to use them to his best advantage.

He knows they will over react to anything he says. He can get his name in the news with an ease that most politicians and movie stars would envy. When he drops one of his little bombshells he does it knowing full well what kind of reaction it will elicit. He counts on it because of how well it suits his purpose.

Each time it happens he establishes himself just that little bit more as the one voice of reason speaking the word of God in a world increasingly hostile towards Christianity. He doesn't care what the media, or anybody else thinks of him. Every word out of his mouth is addressed to one audience and one audience only: the converted.

He's learned the truly valuable lesson that all politicians have learned when it comes to exploiting the media for their own gain: the almost total refusal of the press to offer any analysis of an event. He knows they will only report verbatim what he says and then seek out an opinion from an opposing source to serve as the rebuttal.

They will denounce him as bone headed and bigoted. He will counter with confusion and confession. They will sound shrill and angry; he will be bewildered and regretful. These events couldn't work out better for him if he had mailed out scripts to all parties concerned in advance.

You see the most important thing that those who oppose him are missing is that while the things he says might sound horrible and hateful to their ears, Pat is speaking for his flock. They either all ready agree with what he is saying, or they are willing to believe it because it's his opinion.

When he is attacked in the press, the millions of people who support him feel like they are being attacked. Each time he speaks out and elicits a strong negative reaction from one liberal group or another, it's further proof that nobody but him speaks for his people.

After the last election Presidential election it became obvious that America is moving in the direction of his people. While always a country with a certain amount of devotion at its heart, Conservative Christianity seems to be coming to the forefront.

Given this fact, and his recent pronouncements, the obvious question springs to my mind.
Is Robertson gearing up for another run at the Presidency in 2008, or is he merely establishing himself as an even stronger power broker? Up until the fall of 2005 he had limited himself to talking about social issues that were dear to the hearts to Conservative Christians.

But his last two pronouncements have been related to foreign policy. How many "patriotic" Americans haven't felt the same frustration with foreign leaders that Robertson expressed when he spoke about how Chavez should have been assassinated when the chance was there?

To a country that's tired of seeing its soldiers come home in boxes doesn't it seem like a reasonable solution to the problem of people opposing their wishes? Instead of gong to all that expense of conducting a war and killing off our young folk, lets just kill another county's leader and save a whole lot of mess and bother. He makes it sound so reasonable.

When it comes to the Middle East it should be no surprise to anyone that he would invoke scriptures to push his political agenda. Saying that Arial Sharon's stroke was an act of God because he contradicted the scriptures serves Robertson's ends neatly.

It makes him look like a defender of the faith, because all he's done is quote the bible and he's being attacked in the media. At the same time he is showing how the bible can be used to guide all of our actions. Look he says, here's what the bible says we should be doing about the Middle East, and see what happens if we don't do as we're told.

First Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated because he went against the word of God, and now Arial Sharon has been struck down with a stroke. (He conveniently ignores how Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, and George Bush, all men who have pushed for Palestinian recognition, are still hale and hearty) Therefore it 's folly to go against the word of God when it comes to anything. All we need do is look to the bible and all of our answers are there.

There is nothing more seductive in times of uncertainty than someone who, with authority and humility, offers the means for answers. He doesn't even have to claim to have them himself, all he has to do is say that they are available; all you need do is believe and freedom from fear will be yours.

To some people Pat Robertson looks like a fool, coming out with sweeping generalizations that sound like ravings. But he should not be dismissed lightly or out of hand. He knows his audience and what they want to hear. He's talking to them, expressing their opinions, and offering more of a solution to their problems than anybody else out there.

Rushing to condemn Pat Robertson only serves to elevate his status among his followers, and make him all that more attractive to people of like mind. Pat Robertson has one of the most politically astute minds in America right now. Each time he makes one of his pronouncements he's testing the waters to see what the reactions will be and how many rally round his flag.

I don't know if Mr. Robertson has any agenda in mind aside from the continual propagation of his message of Conservative Christianity. But his actions recently are similar to that of someone working up to the beginnings of a political campaign. We could be watching the first steps of the Robertson for President campaign of 2008.

Dependant on how things shake down over the next two years not only is that a very real possibility, he could also be a candidate to be reckoned with. The groundwork for the integration of church and state has already been established in America. A Robertson presidency is nowhere near as far fetched now as it was in 1992


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January 05, 2006

A number of years ago

A number of years ago a friend of mine who was attending McGill University in Montreal Canada was describing an encounter she had had with Irving Layton. He was currently serving as writer in residence, and as she was a poet, she had arranged to meet with him to discuss her work.

As befits his rather philandering reputation the only comment I can remember from our conversation was that she said she made sure to keep a desk between them at all times. We both laughed at that, but I'm also certain that she was also only partially joking. Mr. Layton's reputation as a lady's man had always been well deserved.

Irving Layton died today at the ripe old age of 93. Since 1994 the ravages of Alzheimer's disease had decimated the brilliant mind of one of Canada's first international literary stars. His nomination for the Nobel Prize in literature in 1981 bore out the significance of his contributions both at home and abroad as a poet.
layton
But for a lot of people it will be his larger than life persona that they will remember. Even his most famous student, Leonard Cohen, is quoted in "The Globe And Mail's" obituary as saying: "I taught him how to dress, he taught me how to live forever"

Like a lot of Montreal's Jewish community of his generation he was raised on the now infamous St. Urbain Street. Born Israel Lazarovitch in 1912 his family emigrated from Romania when he was one year old. As a French-speaking city Montreal was attractive to Romanian Jews because of that language's similarity to Romanian (That was the primary reason my Mother's family settled there when they came to Canada in the late 1800's)

Mr. Layton started to gain notoriety when he was in University in the 1930's for his socialist politics and writings. Both of which would see him blacklisted from entering the United States for nearly fifteen years. It was in the 1940's that he first started to make his presence felt on the Canadian literary scene.

Along with a few other poets he pushed for a style of poetry that was independent of the prevailing Victorian style favoured by poets of previous eras. They argued that poetry should be allowed to develop its own style reflective of the day's social realities. This helped to set the stage for poets like Leonard Cohen who would begin writing in the late fifties and early sixties.

He revelled in his role as the rebel and the iconoclast. The more people would react to his antics, the more he would say things guaranteed to feed their ire. In 1972 he was quoted as saying: "I am a genius who has written poems that will survive with the best of Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Keats."

While I’m sure that Mr. Layton's attitudes and behaviour must have appeared bombastic and egotistic to the establishment of his time, and perhaps ridiculous to people of our generation, he wouldn't have gotten very far without it. In the worlds of academia and literature of the 1930s and 40s he was the quintessential outsider.

In Montreal, and indeed Eastern Canada, those worlds were the preserve of the Anglo-Saxon elite. The majority would have come from moneyed backgrounds and from within a close knit circle of patrician families. For a product of the rough and tumble world of the mean streets of Montreal's Jewish ghetto it would have been extremely difficult to be accepted as an equal in that society.

In order to succeed Mr. Layton would have had to develop the skin and the temperament of a rhinoceros. The embracing of the role of iconoclast and egotist would have been his only recourse at the time. It was also essential to the development of Canadian literature.

No one but an outsider would have dared challenge the status quo in the manner that Mr. Layton did; they would have had too much to lose. He was already on the outside looking in so what did he care if they continued to shun him. But such was the power of his voice, his work could not be ignored, either by publishers or the establishment.

For those of us who only knew of him in the modern era, we only saw the bombast and the womanizing. His position, which we could take for granted as being won on merit, to him might have still appeared tenuous and in need of defending. Sometimes the hardest part of fighting the types of battles he fought is accepting that you've won. You are continually waiting for, and guarding against, attempts at counter attack.

As a Jew of his generation and background, it would have been an especially difficult feeling to overcome. His parents would have carried memories of the wandering Jews of Europe, forced to move from country to country as laws changed. He grew up in Montreal, where on one hand were the Anglo-Saxon elite and on the other, the Roman Catholic majority: neither of who could be said to be overly fond of Jews at the time.

When his childhood and early manhood of living in those conditions was followed by the horrors of the Holocaust his continuing to play the role of the outsider long after it was necessary becomes understandable. At the same time one must take into consideration how far into his cheek his tongue may have been lodged when he was issuing quotes to the media.

I'm sure he got a great deal of pleasure out of playing the rapscallion for the stolid Canadian Press of the sixties and seventies. It allowed him the freedom to say things like: "In Pierre Trudeau Canada finally has a leader who is worthy of assassination…" and not be interned by the police.

What's truly most important to remember about Mr. Layton was first and foremost he was a poet of the highest quality. In trying to offer an explanation for his character, it is my hope to deflect you away from what surely will be the major talking point in these days after his passing, and turn your focus to his work where it belongs. He published more than forty books of poetry and prose during his lifetime, radically changed the face of Canadian poetry, and carved out an international reputation.

Aside from his previously mentioned nomination for the Nobel Prize for literature, he was also awarded the Governor General's award for poetry in 1959, and called to the Order of Canada in the early seventies.

The Governor General's award was the first sign that his work was gaining acceptance by the Canadian literary establishment; or a sign of how much the times had changed since he had begun writing. Whatever the reason it was still a huge accomplishment for a kid from St. Urbain street.

Unlike some of his more bloodless contemporaries Layton's poetry was filled with the passion and fire that marked his life. For those who had tired of the cool precession that had marked the Victorian school of poetry previously practised in Canada, his provocative and emotional offerings must have seemed like a breath of fresh air.

Recently Mr. Layton's work has come under fire for his purported misogynist attitudes. He was never successful in marriage, and wrote freely and emotionally about all his relationships. His sensibilities towards women are not that of a North American man; he is open and frank in his admiration and quick in condemnation.

Taken in isolation from the rest of his character, the case can be made that he dislikes women, but put the poems into the context of the man. He treated all subject matter in the same manner. Whether he was talking about a woman or a street corner he would speak from his heart without editing. They can be mean, they can be ugly, but his poems were always the truth of that moment he was trying to express.

Unfortunately trying to find links to any of Layton's work published on the web has proved to be impossible, so you will have to settle for either purchasing one of his books or going to your local library and checking out one out in order to sample his wares. I would encourage you to do just that before reading any further analysis of his work.

Read him and appreciate, or hate, as your feelings dictate. Don't let the hoopla surrounding his character and his infamy be what he is remembered for. He was a poet who was not afraid to split his ribs to show us his beating heart: that deserves to be honoured.

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January 04, 2006

I don't think I became

I don't think I became aware of personal web-logs (blogs) until sometime in March of 2005. Oh I had heard of their existence before that time, but had lumped them into the same category as chat rooms and pointless discussion forums. Places people who had no lives or social skills went to make themselves feel self-important.

Anytime I would read something about the power of the blogs, or the rise in their influence, I would just dismiss it as so much self-promotion by people who either ran blog-sites or were computer geeks. It was almost by accident that I discovered I had very nearly dismissed out of hand the exact facility I had been in search of for months.

I had been visiting Ashok Banker's web site after reading the first three books of his retelling of The Ramayana when I discovered he had a blog. Curious, I decided to investigate and discovered the amazing potentials they offered.

Ashok had published everything from short story excerpts, to reviews and interviews at his site. It was like having your own personal newspaper column where you could publish any article on any subject that you wished. My own snobbery had blinded me to the fact that a medium was only as limited a you allowed it to be; a blog could be anything you wanted, not just dear diary entries.

At that time I had written a few short op-ed. pieces and had been resorting to try and sell them through an on line self-publishing house, with little or no luck (I had sold four copies of a review of a book by Viggo Mortensen, based more on his popularity than the quality of the review). The opportunity to actually have a facility that allowed me direct access to the whole web was just too wonderful to pass up.

Of course this was followed by a crash course in trying to figure out how to actually get people to read what I was writing. After a couple of months of trying a variety of things which resulted in very little real readership, (someone opening a page and closing it a tenth of a second latter doesn't count as a reader), I found Blogcritics.org.

I have previously written about the positive affect my association with this site has had upon my skills and confidence as a writer, so there is no need to detail that here. However there are other reasons for me to be grateful for falling in amongst this sinister cabal of writers, critics, and reviewers aside from the development of my skill set.

The Internet is full of blog sites. Do a Google search on almost any subject and you're bound to turn up a blog reference to it no matter how obscure the topic. In fact the more obscure the more likely you are to find blogs that have written on it.

There seems to be a delight in the arcane and esoteric amongst blogers. It's almost as if they are desperate to make themselves appear more interesting than anyone else. It's like a need to justify their existence. There's also the convenience of there being less risk of being challenged on your information if you write on a subject few no anything about.

In my initial exposure to blogs, prior to my association with Blogcritics.org, so many of them lived down to my expectations. Pages and pages of shopping trips, parties, recipes, people complaining about boy/girl friends, whining about the boss, and all sorts of other personal issues. What boggled my mind was the numbers of people, judging by the comments on the pages, which would not only read this stuff, but be interested enough to leave commentary.

I have had my struggles with writing. I have a form of dyslexia that causes me to either invert letters in a word's spelling (dworn instead of drown for instance), wreck havoc with my sentence structure, and just generally turn everything inside out and sideways. (Wixing my mords is one of the classics) Therefore I try not to be judgemental when it comes to things like spelling and grammar.

Perhaps the reason I get so upset with people who write page after page of an article in the Internet's version of George Orwell's "Newspeak" from the novel Ninteen Eighty-Four is because of the amount of work it takes me to correctly form a sentence. Seeing u r used instead of you are, and all the other cute little solecisms that are in regular usage, comes across as unacceptable laziness.

I can understand its usage, to a point, in places like instant messaging programs and chat rooms. But, to my eyes, when you're presenting an argument that you want people to take seriously it only ends up trivialising both the subject matter and the writer. Lazy writing gives the impression of lazy thinking, neither of which is conducive to inspiring respect or implying the writer possesses the authority necessary for an argument to have any strength.

Another less than redeeming feature of so many blogers is their overblown sense of self-importance. Somehow or other they seem to have formed the impression that they are having an impact on society and that people care what they have to say. The number of guys who used to wear robes and stand on street corners with signs reading "The End Is Nigh" who now have blogs is astounding.

From every direction on the political and religious compass they have come running like ants to a picnic. Flag wavers, flag burners, pro choice, pro life, anti this, and for that. It doesn't seem to matter what they stand for, all their blogs have used the same template: me good, you bad.

The fact that pages and pages of these types of blogs exist is what leads to so-called legitimate journalists calling in to question all writing on the Internet. They claim that because of these examples none of the writing on line is of any worth. Arguments like that are just as spurious as the ones cited above.

As more and more mainstream news services maintain an online presence they are encouraging their columnists to establish web-logs that run as part and parcel of the web site. They have recognised the need for a more populist and personal approach to the issues of the day. I'm sure there are those who would call it jumping on the bandwagon, but in reality it's an acceptance of a new means of expression.

What it also means is that there will develop more and more of a distinction between writers and bloggers. Up until now everybody has been lumped into the same category. A well-researched article on a new act before parliament and a recounting of a shopping trip were of equal importance.

What has begun to happen is a more discerning audience is being developed. With major media outlets utilizing blogs, and Internet players like Google and Yahoo demanding more and more refinement as a prerequisite for inclusion on their "News" sites, quality is beginning to rise to the top.

As this happens readers are not going to accept the haphazard offerings of the past. The market will reward the skilled and the interesting with exposure to a wider audience. It will no longer be enough just to publish in order to garner attention; you will be expected to write coherently and with intelligence on your subject matter.

Blogs along the lines of personal diaries and diatribes will still be written; there will always be an audience for the puerile. The difference is that soon their influence will wane to the point that they will only exist as curiosities and nothing more.

It is a very exciting time to be a writer in the blogsphere as the move is being made to separate those who write with care and respect for their medium from those who see it as a chance for self-promotion of the worst kind. Being a blogger and being a writer is not necessarily the same thing, and it's nice to see that distinction finally being realized.


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January 03, 2006

Life is replete with moments

Life is replete with moments where the fraction of a second it can take to make a decision will change you irrevocably. What may seem like a small matter at the time can end up being the instant that completely changes the direction you were taking. Conversely seemingly important decisions end up having little or no bearing on your future.

At the time you have no idea what will result from the choice you make. Sometimes it may even take years to find out. Of course there's always the element of risk involved that you will have made the wrong decision, but I've always considered the opposite of change, stagnation, an even worse option.

There have been some choices I've made that have been most decidedly wrong. Ones that have ended up in jail time, addiction, and alienating pretty much everybody who I had considered a friend. Those are the times we look back on and say. "Boy if I only had that to do over again…" But if I'm really honest with myself I know that if somehow I were transported back to that moment in time again and again, without ever having been through the experience before, I would continually make the same choices.

I look back on the person who I was then; the information that I had at my disposal on how people were supposed to behave; and my attitude towards the world and see no other options for that person. While it is true that we are all free to make any decision we see fit, isn't it also true that a person's judgement is affected by what they have observed and lived through up until that time?

I've never used any of my life experiences as an excuse for my behaviour or my choices. Every decision I have made has been mine and nobody has forced me to do anything. What I'm talking about are explanations for behaviour. It sure made it easier for me to learn from my screw-ups and change my behaviour once I understood the reasons why I had done them

Once you've seen the looks of hurt and betrayal on the faces of people you love whom you had screwed over; once you hear the pain and disbelief in their voices you never forget it. What makes it even worse is when the big question why hangs over the whole affair. I don't know sounds pretty lame and is not a satisfying answer in those circumstances for anyone.

I'm sure there are people out there for who it wouldn't matter one way or another if they knew why they had done something or not. If you're not prepared to accept responsibility for your actions, knowing the reason why isn't going to make an iota of difference. For those who are though, the knowledge that your judgement had been impaired through emotional and mental conditioning is both a comfort and a warning.

Although some people might consider the prospect of further jail time if you re-offend enough of a warning, one only need look at the rate of recidivism among petty offences to know how little a deterrent that is. What's more important to heed is the knowledge that you are not in a position to trust your own judgement.

This is what I was referring to when I said that some decisions were affected by what a person had lived through up until that time. The term Schema is used to refer to the manner in which we organize information available to us in order to respond to a situation. If at somewhere along the way you have adapted schemas that are based on distorted information, the manner in which you react to the world will be confined to that distorted view of the world.

Wouldn't this have a detrimental effect on both your judgement and your decision making process? If you are convinced that everyone will end up hurting you, or that nobody cares about you, and that everybody is just out to take advantage of you because of your life experience, it's bound to have some affect on the choices you make.

Think about the feelings that such thought patterns would generate. Resentment, anger, self-loathing and mistrust are emotions that don't allow for clear thinking and level headed judgement. The decision making process that shapes our fortunes and destiny was removed from your control by the conditions that brought about this mode of thinking.

In the same way a strict religious upbringing will affect the decisions you make, based on the morality espoused by your beliefs, the Schemas developed by events during your formative years dictate your behaviour. But in the case of Schemas you don't know that they are controlling you.

Unlike a moral code that you consciously learn, Schemas register on an unconscious level. They are a conditioned reflex brought about by how you have been treated and, no matter what you have been taught otherwise, supersede all other means of behaviour. Usually they actually contradict those tenets that you have been taught about "right and wrong".

If by day you are told that all people are created equal and that you should treat everyone with respect, but by night you are sexually abused by one of the people who are supposed to be nurturing and protecting you, what are you going to believe is reality? Isn't there a good chance that the later will end up predominating?

It has only been in the past year that I have been able to begin to throw off these shackles of the past that have controlled me emotionally. As recently as August of 2005 I was still figuring out behavioural patterns that were the direct result of events that occurred close to forty years ago.

I know enough now to be able to question decisions and reactions if they seem out of proportion to the circumstances that's caused them. I'm confident that I won’t be making decisions that I will live to regret anymore and the judgements I make will be based on the reality of the present, not the conditioning of the past.

Our decision making ability; our capacity to chose between what's right and wrong is what supposedly elevates us above other forms of life. For the survivor of any circumstances that caused an enforced modification of this ability; beginning to reclaim that power is like being freed from slavery. It is the last stage in throwing off the domination of the past and welcoming the glory of an independent future.

To be able to make a decision completely on your own is a gift beyond all others. With it comes great responsibility, but without it we are not truly alive.

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January 02, 2006

Eleven years ago this week

Eleven years ago this week my brother and I flew out to Edmonton to bury our father. Looking back on things now I realize if I had any regrets at all about my relationship with my father was that I never got to tell him what a bastard he was and how much I hated him.

Dose that sound a bit harsh? Well sorry if it offends your delicate ears and sensibilities but I'm not one of those types who are very big on forgiving abusers. For twenty three years he emotionally abused my mother until on his fiftieth birthday he left her for another woman by leaving her a note saying get in touch with a lawyer. He also drained their bank accounts and cancelled her credit cards so she was left with a house and a child and no money

But that was just the final act in his mockery of the happy family unit. He was also a rapist; more specifically a pedophile who preyed upon his youngest son, me, for whatever reasons people like that do that sort of shit. You develop a twisted sort of picture of the world when the only sign of affection you get as a child growing up are nightly visits from your father.

For those of you who doubt the veracity of the concept of repressed memories, I'm here to tell you that it's amazing what the human mind can do to protect you. If you've ever been in a crises situation and had the thought process of "I can't believe this is happening to me" run through your head, you've taken the first step on the road of disassociation.

There's an experience people talk about when they say they feel like they're leaving their body. What they are describing is the shutting down of all sensory receptors so that they are not registering any input of information. You so successfully cut your mind off from what's happening that even though your body is experiencing a trauma you're not registering it consciously. It's akin to the shock a body goes through after any severe physical trauma.

If you do this frequently enough your mind can forget things ever happened, even if your body will retain the memory somewhere on a cellular level. Of course it didn't hinder my memory loss that by thirteen I was starting my twenty-year association with all things mind, mood, and feelings altering. There's nothing like a good drug and alcohol addiction to wipe out the memory banks.

The great treat is when you begin to remember. You think you've lost your marbles the first time flashback to being raped. First of all they happen when your awake, usually either just before you fall asleep or just after you've woken up. The charming thing about them is you don't just remember the incidents, but you get to relive them over and over again.

It's like your body is saying, gee you missed out on it the first time, here you go let's see how much you enjoy it now. Almost anything can trigger them once they get started, and there is little or nothing you can do to prevent them.

For me they started happening because I had been laid up with nerve damage from one too many knee surgeries and had gone to seek that assistance of an acupuncturist to fix up my leg. I had been suffering from some pretty serious pain in my leg because of misdirected nerve signals, so she was attempting to repair that damage.

Did you know that part of the brain that registers pain is also the part of the brain that stores memories? You see that's how we learn from painful experiences not to do them again. So when we burn ourselves that first time as a kid by touching the hot element on the stove, the brain records the incident so we remember not to do that too many more times.

Lucky me. My brain had stored up all these pain related memories from childhood so I could learn never to trust my father alone in the same room at night with me again. Being treated for the one pain started releasing the even older memories of pain.

I was fortunate in that one of the people I was sharing a house with at the time was crises line worker at the local Sexual Assault Centre and she slept in the bedroom next to mine. She recognized the symptoms, and was able to reassure me that I was not flipping out. (She came home from a meeting one night really pissed off. Some superior womyn type had stood up and said she didn't believe men ever had flashbacks. My friend shot back wondering why she was woken every morning by the sound of a six year old being raped in my bedroom every morning)

When my father died just under a year later from complications due to Dementia, (he finally went completely crazy for the last five years of his life) I wasn't prepared to deal with it yet. It was too soon. I had barely begun to recover my memories and try to redefine myself in light of this new information.

I was really pissed. Not only did he manage to escape justice by dying, he got to escape his own memories of his perfidy by losing his mind. I was the one who had to live with it for the rest of my life and work to recover, not him. When the going got tough again, he checked out, first from his memories and than life.

The only time in my life that I have contemplated suicide was during the month after I got back from out west from his funeral. At the time I couldn't figure out why I would care about the fact he was dead. I should be happy I thought: "Ding dong the witch is dead" etc. But instead I was sitting up all night chain smoking and hating my life.

Maybe I'm a slow learner but here on the eleventh anniversary of his death I'm finally a little closer to figuring out what was going on in those horribly long hours in the middle of the night. First of all was the confusion. I was still so fresh in my memories of the abuse that I it was hard not to feel some of the obligatory sadness one is supposed to feel when a parent dies.

Oh did I hate myself for that. How can you even think of being sad that the bastard is dead? What kind of sick idiot are you that you're sad that the person that raped your for eight years is dead? Part of me wanted to be able to feel sad because that was a way of continuing to deny the horror had ever happened. I wanted to feel like I had a father who was worth mourning. Families are made up of loving mothers and role model fathers who set an example for their sons and daughters.

It was that conflict that really drove home the fact of what he had stolen from my life. I had never bought into the myth of happy families, but I had felt some measure of respect for my father for some of the things he had stood for in his life. When he had gotten sick with his Dementia I had felt genuine sadness that a very intelligent man should lose the power of his brain.

I had always known that he was emotionally repressed and had horrible problems with his anger. His parents had been so typically poor British snobs that it was no wonder he once told my brother the only thing he remembered about his childhood was being beaten.

In his early adult years he had worked tirelessly for social justice and I knew he was proud to count people like Stephen Lewis and his father David among his friends. (Leaders of the Ontario and Federal New Democratic Party of Canada respectively) He was the one who had joked with my friends and me about my phone being taped by the R.C.M.P. after phoning me once and hearing all the clicks and whirs that would happen whenever our line connected.

It was only when he died and I thought of all those things and the memories that people claimed to have of him, that I really began to feel the level of betrayal that occurred. Only now eleven years latter am I beginning to deal with all the emotional aftershocks that were triggered by that understanding.

It has taken the intervening years for me to develop the emotional strength to have the fortitude to do more than scratch the surface of the damage he inflicted upon my psyche. The safe and loving nine and a half year relationship I have with my wife has probably been the only reason why I've even been able to do that. I have needed the proof that it is possible to be loved without betrayal of any sort before I could begin to let go of any and all protective measures I had taken.

Emotional scar tissue is a lot more painful to dig through than the physical. But like any infected wound left to fester and scab over, they need to be lanced, drained, and cleaned or they only get worse. As with any hurt the more it has healed over, the more painful it is to re open.

People can very glibly tell you to stop living in the past, and to get on with your life but what they don't understand is that in these circumstances the past and the present are not separate entities in your brain. You are living in the present but the past has infected the present via your behaviour and conditioning.

The coping mechanisms you developed in order to survive the years of abuse and the subsequent fallout can leave you an emotional cripple. In order to deal with them you need to go back and see their root cause and learn to convince yourself that those circumstances no longer exist. Unlearning the habits of thirty-three years is not something one can do overnight.

This is why eleven years after his death I would like to be able to tell my father how much I hate him for what he did to me and what a bastard I think he was for doing it. When people tell me to forgive and forget, I tell them I forgot for thirty years and look where it got me.

As for the forgiveness, that has to be earned, the person has to show regret for their actions and make atonement. He had twenty years to do that in and never once showed a single moment of remorse for anything he did, let alone what he did to me. Anyway some things just shouldn't be forgiven.

This is the first year that I've actually remembered that this is the week my father died, and ironically his birthday as well. In the past I've only realized it after the fact when I've gone through a particularly rough time in the first week of January. The fact that I didn't "forget" this year is a sign that his hold over my life is finally being lifted.

Whatever other significance it may have, it feels like a step in the right direction towards reclaiming my life from my memories. Only then will I be able to finally bury my father where he belongs; the past.


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January 01, 2006

My handy pocket Funk &

My handy pocket Funk & Wagnalls Standard Dictionary defines responsibility as the state of being responsible or accountable. When you go to check up on the meaning of the word responsible you are offered four options.

The first is for the apportioning of blame (you're responsible for this mess); the second being able to tell right from wrong (you can make the responsible choice); the third having sufficient money to pay for ones debts; and finally the fourth being to do with accountability or obligation (you are responsible for keeping me informed of what you are doing)

If I were really pedantic I'd throw a definition of accountability at you too but obligation sums it up pretty nicely. All in all though, responsibility is a word which, dare I say it, carries a certain amount of responsibility concerning its usage.

It's a word we hear thrown around a lot when people are talking about government, employers, and others in position of power. You also here people spouting new age speak about taking responsibility for yourself, while others wonder about who is responsible for the mess that we're in. Of course we also have those who claim that they are responsible to a higher power as a means of excusing or explaining their behaviour.

Usually when we describe someone as being responsible we're talking about them in terms of meeting their social obligations. They have a job, contribute to society, don't break the laws and look after their families. Whenever someone wants to offer up a ringing endorsement of a person's character they define them as responsible.

But what are they talking about when they say that? What are we demanding from a government or anybody for that matter when we ask for responsibility? Who are they being responsible too, what are they being held responsible for, and what standards are we judging them by to establish this responsibility?

How is it that a single person who makes lots of money and has no obligations to anyone except him or herself can be referred to as a responsible member of society and a single mother on welfare who manages to raise three children, send them to school, and keep them out of jail is looked down on? Isn't that single mother by meeting her obligations to her children showing herself to be as responsible, if not more, than the single person earning money for themselves?

The problem is that we have taken a nebulous term; one without any self contained meaning, and turned it into a compliment on its own. You have to be responsible to someone or for something. To simply say that someone is responsible begs the question of what, mass murder, embezzlement? Do they answer to their wife, the pope, or their garbage man?

To complicate matters we also live in a society where people put down responsibility towards individuals as being ties and onerous constraints upon their personal freedoms. How many times do you hear a man refer to marriage or his wife as the ball and chain because he has to do something for her, the kids, or around the house? The teenage child resents the fact that their parent asks them to take an active part in the household, by informing one of the parents of their whereabouts and what their plans are.

All sorts of myths have grown up about people who have shirked responsibilities and gone on to live in glorious freedom. Outlaws, cowboys, and artists seem to be the ones who receive the most attention. All of them have turned their backs on society, and supposedly rejected responsibility. This is of course is just so much romanticized bullshit.

The fact of the matter is that everybody has some sort of responsibility in their lives whatever anybody may claim. Outlaws have a code of conduct that they judge each other's behaviour against and that they are responsible to. Cowboys, while living a life of so-called freedom are responsible to the person who hired them for looking after cattle or other livestock. A genuine artist is responsible to his or her desire to create art; otherwise they will never produce anything.

The fact that these myths exist tells us what it is about responsibility that people are objecting to; they are reacting against the idea of being obligated to someone other then themselves. Being responsible has been turned into something unpleasant; something we have to do because it is expected of us. It implies that you are surrendering something of yourself for someone else.

Perhaps what we need to do is look at the word from a fresh perspective. When I look at the beginning of the word responsibility I see two other words right away: responsive and respond. The first reflects an ability to react to something, while the second is the action of reacting.

As it stands we seem to place more emphasise on the action part of responsibility. Our definition is limited to reactions and feeling like we are being forced into doing something against our will. What would happen though if we started thinking of it in the nature of being responsive?

It may sound like a very fine line but it is all a matter of perspective and in the way we think about it. Being responsive to someone else's needs is a lot different in attitude than being obligated to respond because we are told to. When we have chosen to participate in a relationship; whether it's in the workplace, a friendship, having children, or committing to another person, we have already made a choice about involvement.

Isn't it only a natural extension of that choice that we are open to what makes life better for the others whom we have opted to be with no matter what the circumstances? Being responsive brings responsibility into the moment, removing preconceived notions of what is supposed to be, and bringing it back into the realm of choice.

Situations and circumstances between people are as variable as the wind and the shifting sands of the desert. How can there be rules of conduct, aside from the most general, governing how we interact. Somehow responsibility has come to be seen as a code of governance, demanding that we behave in certain ways. Instead of taking into account the incredible diversity of human nature, and our capacity for change, it tries to enforce rigidity onto something fluid.

As we grow out of a society where there have been predefined roles for men and women it is important that we also grow out of our fear of listening to each other and expressing ourselves. Responsibility has been used instead of people actually communicating with each other.

We have been hiding behind what we are supposed to do for each other for long enough now. Isn't it time that we grew up and learnt how to have a conversation.


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Leap In The Dark