CBC, Vitamin D, and overlooking the real problem

Sometimes journalists and news organisations are guilty of bandwagon jumping.

You've seen it. I've seen it. Media outlets pounce on an event or a report and exhaust us with articles about it. It happened with swine flu, it happens with climate change, it happens with celebrity sex scandals.

Today, at the CBC, it is happening with Vitamin D.

Vitamin D, the "sunshine vitamin," has been in the news quite a bit over the last few years. Health professionals and supplement pushing quacks have been praising its virtues for everything from rickets to cancer. Many of the claims, however, have yet to be substantiated by research.

Vitamin D helps the body absorb calcium, which is why it is added to milk (to avoid rickets in children.) The CBC article exclaims that the bone health of 1.1 million Canadians is at risk.

What irked me most about this article wasn't the glamorous tossing about of the latest health buzz product but the glaring statistic thrown in at the end of the article as an afterthought.

"Researchers also found 41 per cent of Canadian adults had a high total cholesterol level."

I don't know about you, but I would be much more concerned, both as a citizen and a taxpayer, with almost half of the country's adult population at increased risk for cardiovascular disease.

Currently in Canada the three leading causes of death are cancer, cardiovascular disease, and stroke. In the next 25 years, the percentage of people over the age of 65 is expected to reach or surpass 25% of the total population of the country (courtesy of Statistics Canada.)

What does that mean? More people at risk for heart disease and stroke (which may explain two of the three leading causes of death.) More strain on an already overloaded health care and social support system. More people requiring treatment for cardiovascular disease or suffering the debilitating effects of stroke.

We don't look after our cardiovascular system these days. High cholesterol is one of the most manageable and easily controlled risk factors for heart disease and stroke; this sort of statistic shows that Canadians lack the education or initiative they need to keep themselves heart healthy.

Cardiovascular health isn't "sexy" right now, because you can't take a pill and make it all better. You have to change your bad eating habits and get regular exercise. So, CBC, go ahead and write your national headlines about vitamins and send Canadians flocking to buy supplements. It would be nice, however, to report the real story the statistics tell.

Struggling with labels again

Wow. It's been awhile. I've been AWOL, MIA, all of those things. I have a stack of excuses, most of which are boring and not particularly truthful explanations of what I've been doing since May. Let's leave them be, shall we?

Once upon a time, I wrote a post about being labelled. Why? Well, read the post if you really want to know. Suffice to say, I don't want to be stuck in a box and left there.

Which is why I find myself struggling with the movers once again these days. I'm seven months pregnant and striving mightily to avoid the deaded "mother" label. Not that I mind being a mother–quite the opposite. I'm looking forward to it with equal parts fear and fascination.

No, my problem arises with the comments, the assumptions, the expectations that accompany that particular life change. "Oh, it's the most wonderful/important/fufilling/insert your term here thing you'll ever do with your life."

Really? Truly? My entire life will now be defined by the biological process of passing my genes on to the next generation? If it was so miraculous, it would be a whole lot harder to get pregnant in the first place.

I'm not saying I won't love the kid, or that being a parent isn't something damn important. It just isn't the be all and end all of my life. It's a part of it, a section of the box. I don't think it's selfish or horrible for saying that, either, or that anyone has the right to look down their nose at me for saying so.

I plan on going back to work, maybe even back to school after I have my child. Call me crazy, but I imagine my child will grow into a much more well adjusted individual in a household where his or her parents are personally and professionally fufilled.

To be honest, I haven't received nearly as much flak over the "mother" label as I have the "bride" label. Oh yes, first comes love, then comes...oops. I screwed up the order. After baby comes the wedding, later this summer. And boy have I discovered that I HATE the bridal industry.

I hate the expectations. I hate white dresses. I hate high heels. I hate overpriced goods. I hate assumptions, like that I'll get married in a church, or have speeches, or throw a bouquet. Grumble grumble grumble.

Again, what I hate most is the comment, "Oh, it's the most important/happiest day of your life." Once again, I really hope not. Every day after is going to be one big letdown? No thanks, I'd rather not get married then.

"Every little girl dreams of this day." No, this one didn't. Seriously. It wasn't a dream of mine to walk down the aisle in a frou frou white dress and a veil, or choke down horrible fruitcake and fondant. I was too busy doing little kid things like making mud pies and riding bicycles.

It is an important day, but why is it any more important than the day I started my own business, or graduated from university, or scaled a mountain summit?

I'm not a rabid feminist. I just hate labels.

The Diner, Shoreditch, London–a prime example of UK customer service

What kind of service do you expect in a restaurant?

Located in a trendy and busy part of town, this restaurant is called The Diner. It strives to recreate an American burger joint feel in London. The menu? Burgers, all day breakfast, fries and pie, tacked on the wall. Vinyl booths and a visible kitchen. Three wait staff for less than twenty tables.

I know what kind of service I expect in a joint like this. I expect that, for six pounds a burger (fries not included), my basket of food should arrive promptly and taste good. Neither happened.

I've just come back from lunch at this Diner. After waiting 35 minutes for my fish burger to arrive (and watching people who arrived after me get served their food first) I bit into a well-undercooked burger. Fantastic.

Complain? That would require the waitress's attention. My lunch date had finished his lunch before she arrived back at the table (50 minutes after we were first seated) and I had to be back at work. Once she cleared the table, it took another seven minutes and two reminders before she brought the bill, which we then had to go up to the counter and get another waitress to ring through.

I'd excuse her if she was busy, but she was standing fifteen feet from us, polishing silverware. Were the cooks so busy that they could serve an undercooked burger? There were five men cooking, and half the tables were empty.

Customer service in most UK restaurants and pubs is a bit of a joke for the most part. The wait staff generally ignore you, it takes a long time to get food, orders are messed up, and most don't even attempt to be friendly or polite. I've grown used to it, but that doesn't mean I like it.

Today, I've had quite enough. I was hungry, I was spending money in their restaurant, and I wanted my damn food on time and cooked. Is that too much to ask? To get what I paid for? No.

As a comparison, we had a full dinner on Sunday evening at a new Indian restaurant near our house. There were only three wait staff, but we had our entire dinner ordered, served, and eaten (delicious dinner, I might add) in less time than it took to serve me a half-cooked piece of blackened fish in a plastic basket.

So if you are ever in Shoreditch and looking for a burger for lunch, don't go to The Diner on Curtain Road. Come to think of it, don't go to any of their other branches either. Their speciality is disappointment.

Missing in action

Once again, I have be neglecting my posts. This time, it's not a happy reason, like simple laziness.

Please bear with me as I spend some time grieving and recouping from the death of my father. I'll get back as soon as I'm ready.

Thanks.

Knitting is the new drinking

Casting about for a blog topic today, I was constantly distracted by my latest obsession. So now I'm killing the proverbial two birds and writing about said obsession here. What is that, exactly?

Knitting.

Stop laughing now. Really. Knitting.

It's regained popularity as a hobby for men and women in the last decade, but that's not how I got roped (yarned?) into it. I was sucked in by my own frugality.

I started a new job just before Christmas, having been purposely unemployed since the previous April. Needless to say, cash was tight, and I wouldn't receive a paycheque in time to buy baubles for my nieces and nephews.

Foreseeing this in November, I decided that I would re-teach myself the craft my grandmothers had taught me as a child. I knit myself a scarf and then proceeded to knit like fiend and produce seven handmade presents for said siblings' offspring. It also helped to pass the time whilst broke, living in London, and searching for work.

I took a knitting break after that, as knitting related shoulder injuries had taken their toll. Last month, however, I jumped back in and started off knitting something for myself. Yay self!

No simple scarves or hats for me, oh no. Straight to the land of sweaters I went, and knit myself a serviceable vest. How quaint.

I found out something else as well. Yarn is not the yarn of my childhood. Yarn has gone upscale. Mohair, angora, alpaca, merino, cashmere, silk…the first time I walked into the local yarn store, I was sunk.

Now the shelves in my living room are starting to resemble a haberdashery, I spend more time on Ravelry than on Facebook, and I'm developing eye strain problems from knitting in pubs.

The real reason knitting has become an obsession is quite simple, really. It's a time and thought consuming exercise that blocks out every other swirling thought in my busy brain. Stressed as I am over my dad's illness, it isn't any wonder that I've sought some form of escape.

Bring on the DNA tank top, my friend.

I fell in to a burning ring of fire...

The world is shifting. It changes imperceptibly every day through processes we don't even notice, such as erosion.

Sometimes Mother Nature likes to flex her geological muscles. Bit of a show off, she is.

I'm not going to explain geology to you, so if you don't know anything about plate tectonics, please go read up on it and then come back to this post.

When a plate starts to release, it triggers different reactions. Earthquakes along fault lines, subsidence, water table changes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis. Sometimes the signs are so small we can't even tell, unless we're connected into sensors and actually follow press releases from geological associations.

When new islands form, however, we notice. When volcanoes spew ash thousands of feet into the stratosphere, we notice.

The Pacific plate is big, and it's grumpy. More importantly, it's releasing energy along its perimeter, also known as the ring of fire.

Mount Redoubt erupted in Alaska. Last week, a new island (and lots of pumice) burst out of the ocean near Tonga, creating tsunami fears. It looks like we're in for a little bit of a show, courtesy of Nature herself.

The only problem is, Nature isn't a person, has no emotion, and doesn't give a rat's ass about anything on the face of this planet. We might like to think we're actors in her play, but we aren't even an important part prop. We're little masses of expendable carbon-based material that will eventually be recycled back into the depths and converted into something else.

With that kind of fatalism in mind, I am curious as to what will happen around the Pacific rim next.

Earthquake wise, the ring of fire shakes all the time. Significant shaking happened in 2004-2006, most notably killing thousands in a tsunami, along with thousands more perishing in Indonesia, Papua New Guinea and Tonga in separate seismic shakeups. This period also includes the 7.6 magnitude quake in Pakistan.

But that doesn't mean any of it was related, according to the China Post. At least, they thought it didn't in 2006. But what about now? Are we in for another seismic rumbler of a year?

Something to keep in mind whilst booking my vacation, at any rate.

Think before you eat

The traditional food fad has me worried. Throw it in with all the hubbub about "recession grocery shopping" and it's enough to make me...snack on something.

In recent months, certain prominent chefs and foodies have been praising the return to "traditional" and "local" foods. In the northern hemisphere, this entails eating seasonal veggies, making use of wild game, planning weekly meals more carefully, eating out less, and the resurgence of hearty meals from Grandma's cookbook.

I applaud eating local produce and meat. I also applaud keeping food traditions alive. Where this movement falls apart is in portion control and frequency.

Traditionally, our grandparents and great-grandparents lived in a more physically active world. They walked a lot more, worked in more manually taxing positions, and burned a great deal more calories in a day than I would in a week. In winter, they were often exposed to the cold and lived/worked in colder, draftier buildings. Colder temperatures mean more calories needed to keep the body warm.

Those comforting pot pies, roasts, and bakes provided those people with the calories they needed to get through the day. However many articles I type, I will never burn the equivalent amount of energy.

Therein lies the problem. Our diets do not reflect the change in our lifestyle. We are fat, and getting fatter. The more sedate we become, the worse the problem will become. Next thing you know, we'll be drinking food through straws, zooming around on hover beds in a robot world.

I like roasts. I like pot pie, potato scallop, pork chops fried in mushroom gravy, Yorkshire pies, and meatloaf. Don't even get me started on desserts. The secret is that I don't eat them every day.

Some restaurants will serve you an obscene amount of food, much more than you could possibly eat. The more expensive the restaurant, the more controlled and realistic the portion.

The problem? Cash strapped individuals eating at cheaper joints, consuming more food. These same people are also cracking open the cookbook and making their own food more often.

The second problem is that most recipes provide a minimum of four servings. Left overs are wasteful, right? No one charges you for a refill or a second plate. Good thing you have more sense than that.

Or do we?

Moderation seems to be a foreign concept. We white Westerners are already more obese than anyone else in the world.

Think before you feed.

Toronto gets on the food wagon

How I loathe to write anything about Toronto, but this is news I cannot resist.

My favourite part of wandering the streets in Europe is the sheer variety of food available, usually 24 hours a day. Felafels, kebabs, couscous, salads, sushi, noodles, crepes, waffles, smoothies...you name it, you can find it on a cart here in London somewhere.

A particular favourite is the seafood shack at Cross Street/Essex Road in Islington. Street calamari? Oh yes. And I haven't been hospitalized with dysentry once.

Toronto claims to be cosmopolitan, but it isn't. Expanding the variety of vending options is a small step in the right direction. All claims of food safety aside, there isn't any reason why this shouldn't have happened long ago.

I look forward to a greater late night selection the next time I'm stumbling along Yonge Street in the wee sma's.

Canada's most trusted news source sinks to a new low

Afternoon coffee break found me browsing the headlines in the Canada section of the CBC website today. The sheer amount of scrolling and general bad website layout aside, I normally use the CBC as my main source of news.

Today's headlines from across the country are generally discussing important, newsworthy issues. More murders in Vancouver. Edmonton introduces zero-energy homes. Civil servant jobs slashed by 700 in NB. Newfoundland mourning the victims of helicopter crash.

In Ottawa? Three headlines. All city buses are now back on the road, two bodies were recovered from a lake...and the intriguing "Senators' pop star girlfriends draw another kind of fan."

I'm a hockey fan but my immediate thought was, "which Senators are dating pop stars?" I had awful images of Senators Duffy, Neufeld, and others I care not to describe. Thankfully the article was referring to hockey players, not members of the upper chamber. My feeling of relief, however, was very short lived.

In the middle of a recession, I don't want to know that Hilary Duff and Carrie Underwood are dating hockey players. I don't want to know that in the best of economic situations. Honestly, I don't care about it AT ALL. Neither should the CBC, in my opinion.

Celebrities appearing in a city isn't a news worthy event. If the celebrity is there supporting an event, or if they happen to be performing, that is PR. Not news. The personal lives of hockey players? Not news. That is private.

I'd like to think that the CBC news team has more integrity than to report on this type of tabloid nonsense, particularly in our capital where much more important stuff goes on daily.

The public's concept of what is "news" has been altered by the business of supplying it. I don't want to hear news that "sells" but news that is NEWS. Whether it be news down my street or news in my nation's capital, I want relevant, accurate, truthful news. Am I alone in this desire?

Celebrities are not news. Shame, CBC.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm back.

Canada has the strongest banking system in the world right now, according to Prime Minister Stephen Harper. We should be happy about it.

Thank goodness. All my friends who work in the banking industry are relieved they aren't facing the reality others (such as my friend who worked for Lehman has been wrestling with for six months) are facing. Canada may be in a better position than some, but thousands of people are losing their jobs, including members of that "mobile" workforce reliant on high oil prices fuelling oil sands development.

But all banking jokes aside, I suggest you watch the video of Mr. Harper reading the first real speech he's made about the recession. He wrote it himself. His big point? Cut the red tape, so infrastructure projects can move forward quickly.

According to Harper, there are two kinds of red tape. The first involves all the environmental impact assessments that must take place before a new infrastructure project is approved. The second is a cheeky reference to the Liberal dominated Senate debating his proposed economic stimulus package.

The nerve! The gall! How dare the Senators actually wake up and debate an incredibly important issue instead of passing it quickly!

The nerve, indeed. Almost as cheeky as the Conservatives tacking such issues as seniors and First Nation housing, pay equity, and changes to the Navigable Waters Protection Act to an economic stimulus package.

Does an economic stimulus package need to be passed quickly? Yes, if you think one is needed at all. But blaming the slowness on the Liberals and the Senators is not going to wash.

Mr. Harper had a chance to propose a stimulus package before Christmas, but chose to wait for Mr. Obama's package first. Smart move, in my opinion. Anything the Americans do to prop up their economy will have a trickle down effect to Canada. Why should we spend our own dwindling pile of cash when we can piggyback?

He's taken his time, developed a comprehensive package. Or so he says. That's all well and good. Now he wants it implemented as soon as possible.

The problem with C-10 isn't that the economic stimulus package. It's all the other stuff tacked on that the Conservatives want pushed though with little or no debate.

I'm not falling for it. Neither are small businesses (who are affected by competition proposals in C-10), paddlers and recreational waterway users (who may lose waterway access and have waterways altered by fast tracked infrastructure projects), women working in the public sector (who will lose the ability to file complaints for pay equity), provincial governments affected by transfer payment changes (FYI, Quebec will receive more in transfer payments than all other provinces combined), First Nations people off-reserve (as the bill only addresses on-reserve needs), low-income and senior housing needs, students requiring financial assistance (don't worry, Bill C-10 says you don't have to pay back your loan if you're dead), and more.

I got tired of reading the bill, so I'll stop there. But that should also make it obvious that this bill has too much in it for a cursory approval trip.

So send it back, Senators, and demand the stimulus package be separate from all these other changes.

If you don't like it, Mr. Harper, then I suggest it's about time you did something about Senate reform other than appoint senators.

London: The Descent into Chaos

Little did I realise as I watched lazy snowflakes fall last night that I'd wake to utter confusion this Monday morning.

Southeast England woke up to a winter wonderland. The grey and black concrete landscape was utterly transformed. Palm trees and aloe plants sagged dejectedly in gardens, shivering uncontrollably.

Since trains are known to stop running because of falling leaves, it was unsurprising to learn that most train traffic had been suspended. Almost every Underground line was suspended or delayed, roads were icy death traps.

Transport for London actually took all its buses off the road. That's right. No buses. To most North Americans, that doesn't seem like a big deal, but here it's catastrophic. If public transport shuts down, that's it. No one can go anywhere.

Mother Nature is the greatest terrorist of all, you might say, if you were in a cheeky mood.

No buses means walking to work if you can, sleeping in if you can't. I fall into the former category, so I layered up and headed out the door.

Plows don't exist here (except at the airport) so the sidewalks were snowpacked ice filled with two kinds of people slipping around.

Type one: The Angry Londoner.
Identified by the cursing under the breath, inappropriate footwear, and evil glares, this type is best avoided at all costs. Even if it means wading through the slushy gutter and veering into panicked traffic.

Type two: The Ecstatic Child.
Identified by the inappropriate clothing (and a complete disregard for the weather), these types are the ones building snowmen in the park and on the sidewalk, lobbing snowballs at road signs and Angry Londoners, and greeting passersby with a grin. Ages range from one to one hundred.

As I tromped my way along merrily south to work, the snow "people" progressed. To the right is a typical child creation in Newington Green.

Someone please give her a carrot, if you walk by on the way home this evening.

On the plus side, it scared the hell out of the mass of pigeons that usually infest the Green.

The begging snowchef on the top of the page, to contrast, is an ironic Shoreditch snowman. Everything in this section of London is ironic, but this is actually tame by Shoreditch standards. The snowman that truly exemplifies the attitude of this little hypocritical pocket is:

A dirty, lopsided sphere lying in the gutter. Perfect.

Work Widows

I have the sneaky suspicion I've written this post before, or something very similar.

Having installed a new messenger program on my computer, I now have access to several of my accounts, including facebook, through one portal. It also makes a fun sound and flashes the login of a person when they come online.

If you're anything like me, you have a giant pile of "friends" on facebook who appeared out of your past, added you to their list, and that was that. It's sometimes interesting to look at their pictures or read their crazy status updates, but you don't communicate regularly.

So I have all these contacts. With this nifty program, I get to read status updates when my "friends" log in, providing a distraction from work (and most likely leading to errors, sorry to my boss who may be reading this).

This is a post about the nifty program, right?

Wrong.

It's about all those little status updates from my Maritime (mostly female) counterparts. Most of them are struggling with long distance relationships and raising families alone.

Why? Because the other half of their relationship is in Alberta.

It's now a sad fact of life in the Maritimes that, in order to support their family or to even survive, one part of a couple must move away. Living expenses are astronomical in Alberta, and moving the entire family can be difficult, so someone goes away.

The length of trip differs. I know people who fly home every two or three weeks, and some who are only home every six months. Some live in camps; others stay with Maritimers that are more permanently settled.

This trend is creating problems at home. On a local level, the young capable people are being drained away. Volunteer organisations are suffering, schools have difficulty recruiting parent helpers, and it is becoming increasingly hard to find a family doctor.

On a larger scale, while most people do what they can, the fabric of society is altered. Some single parents are overwhelmed. Are there enough resources and support for them?

What is it like to have your husband, wife, boyfriend or girlfriend absent for weeks on end? How lonely it becomes.

In the long term, it simply isn't possible to have so much of the population relying on income from such a distance. What is being done to boost NB's economy?

The current recession wasn't a blow to the Maritimes. They've been in recession for years.

The provincial Liberals want people to stay. At Christmas, television commercials obviously targeting this mobile work force pleaded for NBers to stay home. But is it possible?

I am not one of these working widows, but I do live outside the Maritimes in order to pursue an adequate income. I don't have any suggestions or miracle cures for this problem.

I simply wanted to state that we shouldn't have to be work widows, or expatriots, in order to simply survive.

Hey politicians: do something useful!

In the past few weeks, I've received emails from every major and minor political party, David Suzuki, Greenpeace, Avaaz.org, and a couple more. Now before my contact list starts to impress you, realize that I subscribe to most of these organizations so I can mock them here.

And mock them I will. Outside of the Conservatives, all of the emails were urging me to support the NDP-Liberal takeover attempt. How can I do that? Well I can sign their nifty petitions (which puts me on their mail out lists, sneaky sneaky) or give them money. Mostly, it was about money.

But last week is over. The Governor General has suspended Parliament, and we have to wait until January to see how the government will fall.

Did you notice my use of the word "how" and not "if"? Well go back and read it again then, sentence skimmer. The current government will fall. That is a given. Why?

Because none of the parties understand how a minority government works. The way they understand it, it doesn't.

I'd like to ask our politicians to take this time they've been given to learn how to do something useful--such as governing our country.

The economy is unstable. People are concerned. We're tired of elections, we're tired of infighting, we're tired of dilly dallying. Put aside your petty party prejudices, roll up your sleeves, and work together to find better answers.

If that means the Conservatives and the Bloc get together to hammer out an economic plan, so be it. If the Liberals and the Tories sit down to work something out, great.

In a minority, someone has to play nice with at least one other party, or it's back to the polls we go.

So it's my suggestion that Harper's government start looking for playmates instead of trying to bankrupt, bully, and beat up the opposition. It's time to crawl into bed with the corrupt and disorganized Liberals, the socialists, or the separatists, Steve. Pick your poison.

If it all gets to be too much, just close your eyes and think of Canada.

Best News of the Day

Do you know what the best news of today will be?

It doesn't matter was the Governor General decides, or which party makes the savvier media announcement.

What matters is Canadians actually paying attention to what their government is doing.

It's about time.

Abby's weather report on the Canadian political storm

I know you've all been waiting with baited breath for my next post about the Canadian constitutional conundrum, so I thought I'd at least get a post out before the PM and the GG get jiggy with it. (This new job is taking huge chunks of time out of my aimless internet surfing and blog posting.) Since my skewed, totally pointless opinions seem to amuse you, here's how I see recent events:

The original Conservative motion

The original so-called economic update didn't really update the economic situation or the current economic climate at all. Why? Because Harper wants to wait until our big, friendly, newly led neighbours to the south sort out what the heck they are going to do about their own economy.

Makes sense, right? Why should we spend money to stimulate our economy when it is totally reliant on the US? I thought it was a good idea for the government to keep my tax money in its pocket instead of handing it out to doomed manufacturers. It's called capitalism. What goes up can come down with a really big bang.

That's fine. What really stunk about the motion was the bald political manoeuvring that was tacked on to pigeonhole the opposition parties, civil servants, and women in the workforce.

Most people now know that the Conservatives were going to cancel party subsidy funding to save the government money. Thirty million? That's a drop in the bucket. It's less than Harper's security staff budget, in fact. Peanuts. However, it would cripple the opposition and allow them to possibly gain a majority in the next election.

Sneaky enough, but the sneaky part of me admires a good political handcuffing. The opposition wouldn't dare force another election, right? So they have to say yes.

The Straw that Seized the Zamboni

But the Conservatives tipped their hand. They decided to tie a little more pesky policy to the motion white they were at it. What did that include? Taking away civil servants' rights to strike for 3 years, and a woman's right to sue for pay equity.

That's right. We females don't need the right to demand fair and equal pay. We should be barefoot, in the kitchen, looking after our children. After all, it's not like the measly childcare subsidy the Conservatives hand out would actually pay for childcare and allow us to work anyway. So much for the word "progressive".

Infringing on worker's rights and women's rights is a sure fire way to rile up the NDP and the Bloc. Rile them up so much that they'd consider having a sleepover with the Liberals. They've all decided they hate the Conservatives more than they hate each other. Isn't that sweet?

Clearing up the air

I don' t particularly care for the Liberals, and I don't think Dion would make an effective leader, particularly in this situation.

Having said that, Stephen Harper continues to anger me with his patriotic bullshit attacks so much that I'd just like to point out the following:

1. Harper repeatedly states that the public hasn't voted for Dion as PM. They never voted for Harper, either. WE DO NOT ELECT A PRIME MINISTER. Ask Kim Campbell about that. You don't even need to be a member of the House to be PM.

2. Harper also says that his party was elected to govern. It wasn't. It is a minority. This coalition could have been formed and given power immediately after the election, if the Governor General approved.

3. The attacks for working with separatists are hypocritical. The Alliance and the Conservatives have both worked with the Bloc in the past to bring down the Liberals. It's called politics. Someone has to work with someone else, or minorities don't work. Obviously.

4. The opposition parties were elected to represent the people in the same way the conservatives were. Saying they weren't chosen to govern isn't correct; they were voted to govern, but no single party collected enough seats to form a majority.

So that's my two cents on all of that.

Now, it's very likely that the GG will either put the brakes on all this until January or call an election. I don't want to see another election. I dislike hugely Harper's style of governing, his secrecy, and his dictator-like control of his party.

Most importantly, I don't want to see a coalition take power which is, essentially, controlled by the Bloc.

Gilles Duceppe is an intelligent, forceful man. The NDP think they are gaining power through cabinet posts and such, but the real power lies in the ability to push a bill through the House, and that rests entirely on the Bloc.

Allowing the coalition to come to power means that, yes, the three parties that supported Kyoto and other environmental measures will be able to push through important legislation. But it also means that control of the House will lie entirely with a regional party with very specific interests.

Do you think Duceppe is going to be concerned about BC? About Newfoundland and its equalization disputes? (We all know how Quebec loves Newfie natural resources.) No.

I don't particularly care that they're separatists. I care that they don't have the country's best interests at heart.

So that's where I stand on this whole issue. Take from it what you will.

The Left calls Harper's bluff

On Thursday, I was tempted to post a blog about Harper's economic update, which included the elimination of party funding. There was so much fodder for the cannon--the sneaky backhandness brilliance of it (vote against it, and it looks like you don't support the economy, vote for it and you lose most of your political funding) and how it was inevitable.

Why? Because I didn't dream the Liberals and NDP would stop shouting at each other long enough to join forces and do what they're really in Parliament to do--oppose and criticize the ruling party.

The reason I didn't write my post on a coalition was because I didn't see it actually happening. Jack Layton is too full of himself, Stephane Dion doesn't even have the support of his own party, and making concessions to the Bloc just doesn't sit well outside of Quebec. I thought Harper was fairly safe with this move.

We all underestimated how much that loonie and change per vote means to politicians. It was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Oh, they may say it's about the economy or the civil servants' right to strike, but we know the truth.

The best part of it all is they don't have enough seats without the Bloc, and they don't have anyone to be Prime Minister. The Liberals have clearly had enough of Dion. So how would this crazy common-law partnership work?

Okay, I lied. The best part of all this is that it wasn't Dion and Layton who managed to pull the talks together, it was Chretien and Broadbent. It's like Daddy suddenly decided the kids had had long enough to get their shit together and stepped in to get some real work done.

I'll be watching next week to see what happens!

Behold the mighty arms of the Authority

The more I read about my alma mater today, the angrier I became.

The wire hummed today with the news that Queen's principal has suspended Homecoming festivities for the next two years. Why?

Well, let's see. I'll try to describe Queen's Homecoming weekend to those of you who have never been. It used to go something like this:
Friday afternoon: Begin drinking at Clark Hall as soon as possible (until the University closed it down. Hmm.) with the objective of getting as much free beer as possible (students) or getting young attractive students as drunk as possible (alumni). Repeat at Queen's Pub and Alfie's.
Eat pizza or poutine, stumble around drunk to various house parties, and eventually find someplace to sleep.
Saturday: Wake up hungover. Shower, eat greasy leftover pizza, and don representative faculty gear to attend football game. For engineers, this means kilts and purple skin, most other faculties their overalls, face paint, and jackets. Start drinking.
Eat an apple from the store on the way to the stadium. If you have any money when you get there, buy more booze or maybe even a Beavertail. Yell at the alumni across the field, or yell old cheers and jeers from the stands if you're an alumni. Get mooned by the Queen's Band, watch cheerleaders strip, pay no attention to the football game except to hurl the occasional insult at the opponents.
Watch alumni attempt to crowd surf at halftime. Rush the field for a giant Oil Thigh (singing the school song and dancing) before heading somewhere else to drink.
Saturday night/Sunday morning: It's been said the alumni have a lovely dinner to attend, but I've never been. We usually found a house party or gave one, drank way too much, and stumbled home. I remember giant keggers at the Mansion, and my former housemate's soirees at Beaver Lodge on Aberdeen Street, which have apparently now grown to monstrous proportions.

Anyway, I digress. The main point is that too many people show up for the party, get drunk, and wreak havoc, so the Principal cancelled the party. Knowing how wily and stubborn students can be, and that most of the attendants aren't alumni (or are ones who still have friends there) I'm predicting that a large party will still occur next fall on campus, regardless of the lack of formal campus events.

The idea of cancelling an event to change behaviour irked me for a moment, but not for long. There's even a facebook group encouraging alumni to suspend all financial support of the university until Homecoming is reinstated. If there is one thing a Queen's student knows, it's the effectiveness of a strike to the pocketbook. Perhaps it will make a difference, perhaps not. It's just another incident in a long line of disturbing behaviour by the university, attempting to control or suppress the action of its students.

What really upset me today was an article about peer monitoring for political correctness. The university is going to train students that live in the dorms to eavesdrop for "questionable" talk amongst their peers, and then intervene with more correct suggestions.

I don't remember Queen's as a hotbed of racism and sexism. I do remember it as a stifling place of political over-correctness, though. Monitors? Not necessary. The other students do it already.

Why stop at suggesting politically correct alternatives? Why not train student spies to suggest everyone wear the latest Gap fashions, or to bathe on a daily basis, or to eat their vegetables? Any idea supported by Barbara Hall (the paragon of free speech) I immediately count as suspicious.

I'm not saying that anyone has the right to demean or debase another person or group. I am saying, however, that we all have the right to a personal opinion, and a right to express that opinion. I believe it's written down somewhere...oh yes, in the Charter of Rights! I also believe that every person has the intelligence to discern what may or may not be appropriate all by themselves.

How is it okay to send students to spy on their peers? It's not. You might as well just openly bug everyone's rooms. Sending in monitors doesn't create the atmosphere of openness and understanding that is needed to destroy racism. It feeds it. It feeds secrecy, and hiding, and all the things that nurture hatred. Let the Magisterium takeover begin.

When I was at Queen's, I learned two things very quickly. The first is that the school does its best into brainwashing you with its school "spirit" from the very beginning, which creates both loyalty and delusion. The second is that the school's image is more important than anything else. It's more important than its students or faculty excelling in their fields. And it's worth anything to protect that image.

Well, I've been inside, and I've seen how tarnished that image actually is. I have no illusions about the university I attended. My education was great, if impersonal and unfocused. I could have received the same education at most other Canadian institutions.

It's time the alumni association and the administration took the school off a pedestal and back into reality. Spend your energy and efforts into making your school into an institution worthy of my loyalty, instead of creating a false image that I don't really care about anyway.

I leave you with the (somewhat altered) words of the song so lovingly taught to us by our university-sanctioned frosh leaders and screaming alumni...

So put on your old Queen's sweater
the dirtier the better
and we'll all have another drink of beer (more beer!)
'cause it's not for the knowledge
that we come to this college
but to raise hell all the year

Oh they took away our party
and they banished privacy
and they took away that year song too (right Sci '02?)
but thank the dark matter above us
we still have brains among us
and our old Queen's sweater too...

Skating on thin ice in the UK

I like that headline. It makes this post sound interesting, like I'm going to blast a politician or public figure, or bemoan the economic gong show that's been in the media for months.

I'm not. I'm going to talk about ice skating!

Yes, London, the throbbing heart of ice skating worldwide. Sense sarcasm?

Type "ice skating London" into your favourite search engine and you may just be surprised. The English like their ice skating. They even have public rinks that are open year round (indoors, of course.)

When Brian suggested we go ice skating on a Sunday afternoon, I was all for it. Like many rural Canadians, I grew up skating on homemade rinks in the yard, or hanging out on weekends at the local outdoor rink. Remember standing around the converted oil barrel stove, throwing snowballs on it, steaming our mittens, eating greasy rink shack food? That's what skating brings to mind for me.

The British, however, like to do things their way. Ice surfaces are smaller, so they schedule hourly times in order to accommodate the crowds. You purchase your ticket online for a certain time, go and pick it up at the box office when you arrive. After waiting in an orderly queue, of course.

While waiting for your turn, you can watch others stumble precariously around and sip fancy Italian coffee, or the ever-present beer.

We chose the ice rink at the Natural History Museum for our Sunday icecapades. The international photography exhibit had opened, so we were going to make it a double header. The mild November weather was lovely, and the square in front of the museum was dotted with golden maples leaves.

So was the ice surface, incidentally. Luckily, the previous day's rain and mild temperatures had left several inches of water atop the ice so the leaves weren't quite embedded. Two of the skating wardens were darting around fishing shredded leaves from the sludge. If you've ever skated into a leaf, or gravel, or snow, you know how hazardous such things can be to a novice skater.

We sipped our fancy coffees and watched the masses circle in their rented blue plastic skates. I quickly realized Brian wasn't joking when he had said we would be the best skaters there. Woe to the beginner that day, because an unexpected tumble also meant a chilly bath.

The Zamboni driver attempted to clean the ice between groups, but only succeeded in creating a giant pile of leafy, icy slush. The wardens came out with scrapers, gave up, and switched to giant squeegees. Hilarious.

Brian, Kate, and I retrieved our rental skates (ugh, toe picks-where are my hockey skates? Apparently Somerset House has hockey skates at their rink.) and set out on the ice. We then started two new games. The first was dodging and weaving among the skaters without checking anyone. I made it through the entire hour without hip checking anyone, or even spraying water into the crowd with a sudden stop. I was sorely tempted, though. The second game was "spot the Canadians (or other people from countries with ice)."

What are the odds that, out of the dozens of ice rinks in the London area, with their hourly schedules, you would end up with several groups of Canadians in the same place at the same time? Quite good, actually.

The best thing about English ice skaters is that they aren't used to it. So you get lots of falls and near misses to entertain you, and they all tire quickly. After forty minutes I actually had room to take three full strides. I only took three because that was the length of the ice surface, basically. And, once I reached about 50% of my speed, the odds of being struck by a bobbly beginner increased significantly.

People would ooh and aah if you crossed over on the corners. They might just ask for an autograph if you do so while skating backwards.

If you're a Canadian abroad, I highly recommend an hour on English ice. Not only is it a little piece of home, it's a few minutes in an imaginary world where you can be better than everyone else.

Random acts of pity

My eyes are rimmed with that blackened, swollen look that identifies drug addicts and cold suffers. Luckily, I fall into the latter category.

Exhausted from a sleepless night of coughing, sniffling, and feeling sorry for myself, I boarded a bendy bus (at risk of losing my immortal soul) and headed straight for the pharmacy. I needed medication, and I didn't particularly care what flavour.

On the fifteen minute ride, I was seized by several fits of coughing/choking that caused fellow passengers to give me the evil eye and shuffle away slowly. Not that I blame them. I probably looked just as bad as I sounded.

An elderly gentleman was standing across from me in the bendy section, patiently waiting for his stop. Sensing my agony, he pulled out a package of extra strength cough drops and wordlessly passed them to me. I gratefully accepted one, and tried to return the package, but he indicated I should keep them.

To this gentleman, I'd like to say thank you. That was the first real act of kindness (or pity) that I'd witnessed from a stranger in this city reputed for rudeness. Well, by my small town Canadian standards, anyway.

God and Bendy Buses

I'm going to write this post on the assumption that it most likely offend almost everybody. Consider that your warning.

The British Humanist Association and Richard Dawkins teamed up to put some signs on the sides of London buses. Being relatively small and unsupported (the BHA, that is) fundraising expectations were low. One sign might plausibly be all they could afford, so the adamant atheist Dawkins offered to match their efforts. Anything to let the world know that atheists aren't evil. (see my new quote of the day to assess how well that campaign is going.)

Fundraising went really, really well. The BHA was so successful that their ads, which feature such sayings as, "There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life," will be featured in and on about 30 buses.

Predictably, this stirred up the Christians (Dawkin's second favourite activity) and brought forth sermons of mind-boggling quotes.

Everybody get a life. Honestly. If the atheists want to spend their money on adverts, let them. It's not like they can use it to pay priests or buy communion wine. As for Christians thinking that questioning the existence of God is evil, I simply roll my eyes. Their money would be much better spent attacking the moral question of David Beckham adorning buses in nothing but his skivvies and a scowl, or the blatant horrible violence of Saw V, which arguably do a lot more moral damage to our society than a small group too terrified of ridicule to generally make themselves known.

This country, more so than my home and native land, has been brutalized and broken many times in the name of religion, and it pales in comparison to the brutality of other nations. If all of us (no matter what religion or lack thereof) paid a lot more attention to being conscientious and decent human beings and less to what others worship, the world would be a much better place.