Of bread and grandmothers

"What Christmas gift did you always want and never get?" Asked the radio D.J. when I was driving to work one day last week. Alone in my car, I blurted out "Easy Bake Oven". Then I laughed, because the reason why I never got an Easy Bake Oven is the same reason I don't have one now. I was allowed to use the real oven.

Growing up on a rural Nova Scotia farm in the pre-wireless age (it's barely wired now), make your own fun was an essential component of childhood. Having grandparents living 14 feet away was an essential component in that.

My sister Jan and I had a stool when we started baking with Granny; we weren't tall enough to reach the counter without it. We started out with easy gear, like cookies and squares, before migrating to bread. Bread, by comparison, is labour intensive, especially when you have a grandmother intent on teaching it old school and you're four and a half feet tall. Granny was only a few inches taller full grown. Game on!

We started with a cup of very warm water, yeast and sugar in a small bowl, covered with a plate. After that, in a big bowl, really hot water to melt the lard, salt and sugar, with a bit of vinegar thrown in to make the bread keep longer. Once the lard was melted into a shiny slick across the top, we'd add flour until we had an easy to stir slurry. Then it was time to beat in the yeast, which had magically expanded to touch the top of the plate.

Then it was adding flour, flour, and more flour, 'til you couldn't mix it with a spoon any more, at which point, we'd dump it on the counter for kneading. I worked as a baker for a little while. I find kneading bread soothing. This is why.  The rhythmic smooshing of dough, pulling up the side to throw fresh flour underneath to be rolled in. Sprinkling flour into the bowl and rubbing the dough stuck to the sides so you can work in every last bit. Waste not, want not.

On to kneading till the dough squeaked. The dough had to squeak, because that meant that the yeast was working and we were crushing air bubbles. Air bubbles are critical to bread success. At the time, had I known the word "sadist" I would have used it for my grandmother. It takes a lot of kneading to make the bread squeak. I certainly don't work the dough for that long now, but I don't have to. The yeast is is better.

But my grandmother had to. Growing up, if I ruined a batch of bread we had Ben's sliced white waiting in the wings, we just didn't get the treat of homemade bread, served hot, with butter and brown sugar. In my depression-era grandmother's day, no homemade bread meant no bread, so you worked it till it you receive squeaks of confirmation. Perhaps even willed it so.

P.S. I have used quick-rise yeast ever since my stint as a baker in '96. I love it. There's no proofing (the small bowl and plate), with quick rise yeast and as with any restaurant employee, you follow the recipe. I didn't know until I was reading recipes today that folks are skipping their first rise with quick-rise yeast. I swear I felt my grandmother cringe inside me when I read about it. Granny had a standard, and that was to get as close to store bought as possible, from canned peas to white bread.  Unless you let your dough rise at least once (Granny's was twice, but that's too long), before you form loaves, you'll never work out all the big air bubbles and when it's sliced, there's holes in it. The dough needs to be refined with kneading so the bubbles are tiny throughout.  Now grocery stores sell Artisanal bread and a point of authenticity is that it's irregular. Like homemade. How rude.

Tips for political petitioners on Change.org

The following petition appeared in my newsfeed this morning. Well, a copied and pasted version of it, which links to the petition here.

Now calling for politicians to be charged with treason is nothing new. For as long as there have been politicians, and before them, monarchies, there have been people calling their actions treasonous. We just use virtual pitchforks and torches now. Harper had his treason petitioners too (they appear to have a better grasp on grammar and spelling, but some crazy leaks out between the lines), which brings us to the point of this post: 

What you need to know about online petitions

1. Online petitions are meaningless in terms of petitioning the House of Commons

For real. This is how you petition the House of Commons. Pertinent details include a paper application with handwritten, verifiable signatures. Five minutes on Change.org doesn't cut it. You need to knock on doors, plead your case, get the support in writing. Wear comfortable shoes. 

2. Online petitions can serve as a rallying cry for change, which may lead to actual change

Also for real. Online petitions that obtain widespread support can be used to apply pressure on a government or an organization to take an action, like halting the forced relocation of 40,000 people. That petition carries over two million signatures. Cecil the Lion has over a million. Oh sure, the dentist was never charged, but good luck to game hunters who want to fly their trophies home on an U.S. Airline now. 

3. For actual change, support is critical

You don't even need a factual argument. Look at Vani Hari, otherwise known as The Food Babe. Hari is an expert at generating publicity through the use of online petitions: Subway changed their bread. Starbucks changed their lattes. Budweiser changed their beer labels. And all with zero scientific evidence that changes were required. The Food Babe just takes big words, makes them sound scary, and relies on the scientific illiteracy of her followers to take her to the finish line. Any doubts, read this:

Air is 78 per cent nitrogen, 21 per cent oxygen, plus carbon dioxide, argon and other trace gases. Filling an airplane cabin with 100 per cent oxygen takes already a flying bomb and turn it into an even more volatile flying bomb. But prior to Hari deleting this post (no take backs on the internet, Hari), she had lots of supporters agreeing with her in the comments.

4. Support requires a clear, understandable, and actionable message

Hari gets this. Oh sure, while she may possess the scientific intellect of an under-performing third grader, she has mastered the art of provoking an emotional response through skillful writing. 

You? You have not. Grammatically, look at the mess you made. It's like a red tide of proofreaders marks. Did you write this on your phone? Always use a word processing program. It won't catch everything, but it'll do a better job than you did.

Your "reason for the treason" is not treason. Not that you tried in any way to explain how stating that terrorists should get to keep their citizenship is treason, but your dots do not connect. Public criticism of a law is not treason. It is freedom of expression. It is a Charter right. 

Your call to action is also incorrectly addressed, in terms of being actionable. The Supreme Court of Canada is the highest appellate court in Canada. They here appeals. They do not lay charges. The RCMP do lay charges, but the guy whose attention you really want to get is David Johnston, the Governor General of Canada. As the queen's representative, he, constitutionally, stands the best chance of deposing a prime minister.

5. Unless you want to be ridiculed, which Hari routinely is, spend a few minutes playing devil's advocate to your argument

For example, what could possibly go wrong with renouncing the citizenship of a terrorist? (As opposed to locking them for life as the Liberals said they would do in the same leaked recording.) To save you time, here's a recent historical example. In 1992, rather than incarceration, the Saudi government renounced Osama Bin Laden's citizenship and banished him from the country. This did not end well for anyone. It is reasonable to say something similar could happen as a result of Bill C-24. It is also reasonable, not treasonous, to say so.

Grammar is really important

 

Nerd confession: I enjoy reading court decisions. I really like how judges write and the stories are interesting.

On the weekend I read the decision that struck down the Cyber-safety Act. It came with a cautionary tale about the importance of choosing your words carefully when writing rules. Especially rules, but it's good practice to do it all the time. In the decision, the lawmakers’ use of the word “may” in one clause resulted in the Act being deemed procedurally unfair. The clause was also a Charter violation, but that involved significantly more elements than grammar. This blog post is about grammar.*

The clause said:

5 (1) An application for a protection order may be made to a justice, without notice to the respondent, in the form and manner prescribed by the regulations, by

(a)    the subject… (the subject's parents, police, etc.)

The judge took issue with the no-notice part, because it violated the right of the accused to be heard—the Charter violation. The attorney general argued that the clause was written that way for situations where the accused was unknown and immediate action was required. In situations where the accused was known, the Act presented only it as a possibility, not as a procedure that had to be followed.

The lawyer for the defense argued that the clause had to be read as though the application must be made without notice to the respondent. If the “may be made” portion of the clause gave applicants discretion to choose whether to notify the applicant, it followed that it also gave the applicant discretion to choose whether to make the application to a Justice of the Peace and whether to follow the application process set out in the regulations. I.e. apply however you see fit. In terms of procedural rules, this is anarchy. The judge agreed with the defense.

Grammar is really important.

*Except for this part. Laws are really important. The Cyber-safety Act didn't get scrapped because it was was ill conceived. It got scrapped because it was badly executed. So write it again. Do a better job. The hard work is already done. There's the existing Act. There's Justice McDougall's 62-page decision, which is essentially an explanation everything wrong with the Act and why, and there's two years of operational data from the CyberSCAN investigative unit. 

Compared to the nothing the lawmakers of 2013 had to work with, today's lawmakers have a road map, rich in analyses and data, already laid out for them. They just have to follow it.

Of internet quotes and a bad driver

On my way back to the office today, I was stopped at a light behind a older, customized VW hatchback. There was a decal in the rear window that read:

 

"If one day the speed kills me, do not cry because I was smiling."

Paul Walker 1973 - 2013

 

I would have forgotten about it, but for the light changing and the driver treating the descent from Victoria Road to Windmill like a closed course, which is to say a lane-changing tailgating menace on a half kilometre of city street.

 

The driver made me mad. The Paul Walker quote made me mad, because obviously the driver thought enough of it to glue it to his window. So I looked up the quote. It made me madder.

 

The quote is unattributed and appears only after Walker's death. There is no evidence he ever said it. Whether to make themselves feel better about his passing or to sell bumper stickers and window decals, someone made it up and it was accepted as fact (and we all know that never happens on the internet).

 

It's also not true. The disturbingly easy to locate online coroner's report states that Walker was in a defensive position immediately before impact. He was trying to protect himself. I have a hunch if you asked Walker if he wanted his actions to end his and his friend's life that day, he would have said no.

 

To the author of this quote, you put false words in the mouth of a dead man. That's beyond low. There's no takebacks on the internet, so don't do that again. Ever. You should already feel like tapeworm inside a tapeworm for falsifying the quote in the first place.

 

To the driver, using a fake quote to glorify a preventable accident does not make you a badass nor does it mean you're living the dream. It means you need to broaden your  horizons and try new non-car things. You may live longer. Better still, so may others.

A no gun-control proposal to curb gun violence

Photo: Carlo Hermann/AFP/Getty Images

 

Starting tomorrow, cast a plaster mould of every person who dies in a mass shooting where they fall. Fill the mould with concrete, let it harden and leave it there.

If victims died on a roadway or on a sidewalk, build a bridge over them. If it's at a desk, move the desk so they're not in the way. If it's at a theater, shop or restaurant, put lights around the bodies so people don't trip, and if it's in a school, paint the bodies cheery colours. 

Let the bodies pile up. Let them pile in such abundance that they interfere and disrupt every aspect of life. 

Do that and then maybe, just maybe, the people who die in future mass shootings will have not, like their predecessors, died in vain. 

Yesterday, San Bernadino was the site of the 355th mass shooting this year. Fourteen more dead. It wasn't even the only mass shooting of the day. Today, nothing has changed.

Nothing will change, not until the cost is too great for everything to remain the same.

Refugee rant for the contrary

You said we shouldn’t help the refugees because they were dangerous. Then statistically you were shown that refugees are not dangerous.

Then you said their neighbours should take them in. Their neighbours, poor countries all, have taken in millions of refugees.

Then you said, no not those countries, the rich ones, the gulf states. You mean the ones run by constitutional monarchies that are home to some of the world’s worst human rights violations. How exactly is that helping?

Then you said we needed to help our vets and our homeless. They said stop using them as an excuse to not help.

Then you went back to it not being safe and more screening was required. We needed more time for screening. We can’t rush things. There’s still just as much screening as there was three of your arguments ago.

Then to address concerns about safety, refugees were cut to women, children and families, at which point you screeched sexism and discrimination against men that you previously called terrorists.

Today the government announced that they need more time to bring in the refugees and now you’re bitching about the government breaking promises.

If it’s because the deadline will be missed, that’s great! Clearly you’ve had a change of heart and you now want these refugees to become a part of Canada. Bravo! That’s the spirit. Let’s do all we can to help!

If it’s because you’re just contrary and you still want to do nothing but fill up comment boards with your vitriol, your whining, and your ever changing list of arguments against refugees, put your time and/or money where your virtual mouth is and spend some time helping veterans and homeless people. You know, the ones you were staunchly defending earlier.

If you got your back up over sexism, you can donate to help all refugees, including single men, here.

And if it’s because you don’t want to help anybody here, you don’t want to help anybody coming here, and you don’t want to help anybody overseas, do our country a favour and shut up. We are a vast cold country and the only reason we, as a country and a society, have flourished is because we help one another. If you don’t get that, you don’t deserve the time of day, let alone an internet soapbox.

Of wine and waiting tables

One night when I was working as a server I had two single tables, both men. It was a slow night, which is probably why this memory of returning both of their wine orders to the bar for something else stuck.

The first guy, a suit in his late 40s, turned his table into a temporary desk and ordered a nut brown draft, barely looking up from his paperwork. The second guy, late 20s, friendly and talkative, looked like he would be more at home on a four-wheeler than sitting in a pricey waterfront restaurant. He needed a moment with the wine list.

I brought the first guy a second nut brown.

Second guy needed more time with the menus and to talk briefly about the main industries of Halifax. And the delicious bread.

On the way back with more delicious bread, I brought first guy his third nut brown. I also helpfully dug out his menu from beneath a stack of papers in case he wanted to eat something. 

After discussing the population of HRM, Nova Scotia's main exports, my current status as part-time server full-time student, and unasked, my fiance, second guy decided to on appetizer and a Coke to start and a half litre of white zinfandel with his main.

First guy ordered a fourth nut brown. I was beginning to think he was pouring them on the floor when I wasn't looking, but the carpet was dry. He promised to know what he wanted to eat when I returned.

Returning with a Coke and the nut brown that gave me the perfect excuse to drop the Coke off and carry on, first guy opens his menu, picks the first thing he sees and orders a litre of white.

By the time I reached the station to ring in first guy's order, I'm convinced I misheard him and he wanted a half litre. He's nearly finished his fourth draft. The draft glasses are large. The fourth one is typically where I abandoned reason and the next day's double-shift became no deterrence to a night on the town.

Second guy's main is nearly ready so I present him with his wine. He leans forward and waves me in closer too. "I ordered the white zinfandel," he says in hushed tones, as we both observe the pink wine housed in the carafe.  I squirm a little as I explain that white zinfandel is, in fact, pink. I offer to bring him the wine list so he can pick another wine, and in light of his now rosy cheeks, throw him a bone asking if he'd like a half litre of my favourite white (a pleasantly mild soave that goes well with people who don't drink wine). That would be great.

Second guy is fine with the soave. I bring first guy his wine. Sparing me a quick glance, first guy says "I ordered a litre." I apologize for my error and bring him a litre of wine. He tastes it. It's fine. He goes back to his paperwork.

I give both men their meals. Second guy is a little less chatty after the pink wine incident. First guy alternates between his fork, his pen, and his wineglass. As first guy is obviously not in need of companionship, and I already separated a small mountain of paper doilies into easy access singles, I return to second guy to see if he is over his shyness. I am bored. I live off tips.

Unlike the rock that is first guy, second guy is loosening up as the wine goes down. I give him a rundown on the bar scene, by music and by drink specials.

Second guy is the first to go. I thank him for his 20 per cent tip and tell him I hope he enjoys power hour at the Crow. He kind of looks like he wants a hug. It's a good time to disappear to pull doilies apart.

First guy also leaves me 20 percent, and in a lasting state of awe. He deftly signed his bill and walked out of the restaurant straight as an arrow, having consumed enough alcohol to put me, no slouch in the booze department, out cold under the table after some singing and I love yous. And he did work the whole time! I wanted to high five him on the way out, but despite the alcohol tolerance worthy of a rock star or an aging bartender, a suit is still a suit.

Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline Launch Day

 

Photo: Calgary Herald

The Harper Conservatives have pledged to launch a police hotline to report "barbaric cultural practices" should they be reelected. This is despite Canada already have a national 24/7 hotline, 911, for reporting emergencies and crimes, barbaric or otherwise. It got me thinking about what those calls would sound like. In my head it sounded like a topic that needed to be explored all the way to absurdity.


Operator: Thank you for calling the Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline, this is Jenny, how can I help you?

Caller: Hi Jenny, I'm riding the number seven bus and the man across the aisle from me has a throat and face tattoos. He looks really scary.

Operator: Hmmm. That wasn't in our training. I'm going to put you on hold while I look at the caller manual. It's our first day.

[Pause]

Operator: Hi there, I'm back. I'm sorry, but there's nothing in the caller manual about face tattoos. Apparently it is not a barbaric cultural practice.

Caller: What do you mean face tattoos are not a barbaric cultural practice? I mean, these are life choices that can seriously damage his ability to be a productive member of our society. He's got cobwebs and teardrops on his face. On his face! I bet he got them in jail. He looks dangerous.

Operator: Hi there, I'm sorry, but there's nothing in the manual about this, but let me ask a few more questions. There may be something else. Does he look like a foreigner? Is he wearing foreign clothes?

Caller: No. He looks like a scary redneck in a wife-beater.

Operator: A wife-beater? Is there a woman with him? Is she oppressed into covering her face?"

Caller: No. He's all alone, but the "Fear" in the "No Fear" tattoo on his throat is spelled with two Es. I can see it really clearly. He's looking right at me.

Operator: I'm sorry, there's nothing in the caller manual about tattoos, misspelled or otherwise.

Caller: Uh oh. He's coming towards me. He looks angry. Jenny, I gotta go. I think I need 911.

[End call]


Operator: Thank you for calling the Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline, this is Jenny, please report your barbaric cultural practice.

Caller: Hello Jenny. Two young men showed up at my door this morning and they wanted me to join a cult.

Operator: Oh my, that sounds serious. Were they members of ISIS?

Caller: How would I know?

Operator: Did they sound like they were from the middle east? Did they have long beards? Black pajama-like clothing?

Caller: No. They sounded like they were from here. They had on crisp white shirts and black trousers. Ties. They were clean shaven and had short hair.

Operator: Well, they could have been in disguise. What did they say?

Caller: They asked me if I could spare a moment to talk about our Lord Jesus Christ. They were very insistent.

Operator: Hmmm. Let me do a quick key-word search of the caller manual. Hold please.

[Pause]

Operator: Hi there, I searched the caller manual and the words "Lord", "Jesus" and "Christ" didn't appear, so this is definitely not a barbaric cultural practice.

Caller: Hey, I worked a 12-hour back-shift and had just gotten to sleep. Those jerks woke me up and told me if I didn't embrace Jesus I'd burn in Hell. That's barbaric!

Operator: Sorry sir. Your complaint isn't in the manual. I hope you get some rest.

[End call]

Operator: Thank you for calling the Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline, this is Jenny, do you have a barbaric cultural practice to report?

Caller: HELP ME, JENNY, MY NEIGHBOUR IS AN EVIL MONSTER!

Operator: Oh my, this sound serious! I want you to take a couple deep breaths to calm yourself. You're safe with us.

[Pause]

Caller: Thank you, that feels better.

Operator: So tell me, what is your neighbour doing?

Caller: He's having a pig roast next weekend!

Operator: Are you of a religion that doesn't eat pork? Is this why you're reporting this?

Caller: Religion? No! I'm a vegan! PETA SAYS MEAT IS MURDER!

Operator: I'm sorry. I think you missed the intent of this hotline. This is for barbaric cultural practices and a backyard pig roast doesn't qualify.

Caller: MEAT IS A BARBARIC CULTURAL PRACTICE YOU MONSTER!

[End call]


Operator: Thank you for calling the Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline. Jenny here, do you have an actual barbaric cultural practice to report?

Caller: Yes I do! My granddaughter and I are waiting to get into the Justin Beiber concert and there are half-naked teenage girls everywhere. I mean some of them are wearing belts instead of skirts.

Operator: I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't believe a lack of clothing qualifies as a barbaric. The manual only speaks to overly covered up as culturally barbaric.

Caller: It most certainly a barbaric practice! This is Canada. Do you have any idea how cold it is tonight? It's freakin' freezing outside. These girls are going to catch their deaths! And the shoes! My granddaughter says they are called "stripper stillies". If they keep wearing them, they are sure to have no end of foot and back problems when they're older.

Operator: I'm sorry, there's nothing in the manual about stripper stillies. Enjoy the concert though.

Caller: Are you [expletive] kidding me?

[End call]


Operator: Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline, Jenny here, do you have an actual real barbaric cultural practice to report?

Caller: Yo Jenny, I sure do. It's a crime not just against Canadians, but the core values of the Canadian way of life.

Operator: That sounds like exactly the type of thing we're here for. Please go on.

Caller: I just found out there's a Justin Beiber concert here tonight. I need you to make it stop before he destroys our Canadian legacy of musical excellence. The Band. Neil Young. We are the home of Rush!

Operator: I'm sorry, the Beiber is not in the caller manual.

Caller: What about Nickelback? Nickelback is playing here next month.

Operator. Sorry. Still no.

[End call]


Operator: Hello, this is Jenny at the Barbaric Cultural Practices Hotline, do you have something culturally barbaric to report?

Caller: Hi Jenny, I want to report someone for creating promotional material that uses images and video of ISIS executions. These are horrific acts. People were tortured - slaughtered - on camera and now they are being exploited again to spread fear and distrust.

Operator: Well, that's exactly why this anonymous hotline exists. We are here for you. Tell me all about it.

Caller: It was in a 2015 federal election ad paid for by the Conservative Party of Canada.

[End call]


Operator: This is Jenny, do you have a barbaric cultural practice to report? A real one?

Caller: PIGS ARE PEOPLE TOO, YOU MONSTER!!!

[End call]


Operator: Jenny speaking, do you have a barbaric cultural practice to report? One that involves an actual oppressed minority group.

Caller: Hi Jenny, why, yes,  yes I do.

Operator: That's great! Lay it on me.

Caller: There are over 1,000 murdered and missing aboriginal women in this country and the government refuses to take action. It's like when it comes to women they don't care about anything other than niqabs.

Operator: Let me put you on hold while I perform a key-word search for "missing and murdered aboriginal women" in the caller manual.

[Pause]

Operator: Hi, I'm back. There were no instances of "aboriginal", women or otherwise, in the caller manual. There were over a two dozen instances of "niqab", though.

Caller: Hi Jenny. In that case, I'd like to report that hundreds of aboriginal women are missing. I believe they all want the right to wear niqabs while receiving public services.

Operator: I'm sorry. I don't understand.

Caller. Well it's like this. Given the uproar two niqab-wearing women can cause, the government will surely want to locate these missing women immediately and liberate them from oppression. Or take away their services. Either way, their families will finally know where they are.

[Pause]

Caller: Hello? Are you still there?

For Shawn on his 42nd birthday

Happy birthday my darling,

I missed your 25th by a couple months, but in person or, less often, in spirit, I've been with you for all the birthdays since.

I like birthdays more than you. You balance it out by thinking my obsession with birthdays is funny.

I maintain birthdays are the best day of the year. Especially yours, because you were born; and you and me became we.

For 16 of your birthdays now, you and me have been we.

Us.

A package deal.

It doesn't seem nearly so long a time 'til I look back at the stretch of life already lived. The road behind and the road ahead are of similar distances now. The road behind improved dramatically when you arrived.

The road we've travelled has some rocks and bumps, deaths and debts, school and career changes, sickness and surgery, recoveries and renovations. Thank you for being there through it all. I can imagine what that road would have been like alone. To that end, thank you a hundred times over.

And thank you for the best times, the exciting times, the good times, the every day times, and the lazy in pyjamas times. All the joys in this world are made better because I witness them with you. They are the brightest of lights that illuminate the road ahead.

You are my partner in life, my companion in all adventures. You are my heart and my soul, and as brief absence so clearly demonstrates, you are, unequivocally, my home.

Free markets, as a dumbed-down fairytale

Martin Shkreli in his new office  Photo: Universal News & Sport (Europe)

Once upon a time in the early 20th century, we, as a people, became inflamed by the gospel of the free markets. This lasted until such times as we fell into utter ruin and cried no more! We have nothing to fear but fear itself and no house of commerce shall be too big! Then we legislated the hell out of the markets to make sure it never happened again. 

There was some civil rights and union stuff too, you know, interesting things if you give a shit about people, but as it turns out, completely irrelevant to the story. So carrying on.

Once upon a time in the late 20th century, we, as a people, became inflamed by the gospel of the free markets...

For whom the dog whistle blows

Photo Credit Flickr s_sultana06

I've noted some anti-Muslim sentiments flowing through my Facebook newsfeed over the last few days. An uptake caused in no small measure by the Conservatives pledging to reintroduced measures to ban niqabs at citizenship ceremonies within 100 days of reelection, but also by a less than critical assessment of the worthiness of that argument and a basic ignorance of the provisions of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

According to the Conservatives, banning the niqab means they are standing tall for women's rights against an anti-woman culture. They are doing so by forcing a woman to do something she doesn't want to do in exchange for something. In terms of women's rights, both modern and historically, think about that for a minute.

They are also making a really big deal about it, despite the fact that Muslim women make up 1.6 per cent of the Canadian population and only a tiny portion of those women wear niqabs. In a country of 35 million, it's an insignificant number. 

It's especially insignificant when compared to bigger problems, like the nine per cent of Canadians who live in poverty, a disproportionate amount of whom are single mothers and Aborigines. As of 2012, over 1.3 million of our children live in poverty, worse still, one in four of our indiginous children live in poverty, yet a veil worn by a fraction of one per cent is worthy of a federal election platform? 

This is where critical thinking needs to be applied. If you respond favorably to Conservatives dog whistle about the niqab ban, you’ve just become Pavlov's dog. Just as the dog drooled when the bell rang in anticipation of food, you’re putting support behind an insignificant policy expressly designed to divert attention away from actual issues that affect large portions of our population, like poverty, just because it coinsides with your beliefs. You are for whom that dog whistle blows.

Whilst we dabble in the cultural minutiae of win-at-all-costs election politics, we have more children living in poverty than when the Canadian government made a pledge to end child poverty 26 years ago.

Which brings me to the last bit: ignorance of the Canadian Charter. The Charter guarantees all of us

"(a) freedom of conscience and religion;

(b) freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press and other media of communication;"

While the Charter recognizes the supremacy of god and law, it does not specify a particular god. To do so would violate our individual right to religious freedom and freedom of expression. 

If interpreted as such by the woman wearing it, a niqab is an expression of religious freedom. That's how beliefs work. You believe in something and that something becomes your belief. It may just be a belief you don't like. To that end, there’s plenty not to like in any given religion, but the Charter does not discriminate. Religious freedom under the Charter means a woman can cover her faces during a citizenship ceremony if her religious belief call her to do so (FYI once they become a Canadian citizen, that woman, like any other Canadian citizen, need never show their face to cast a ballot again, even after the Fair Elections Act). Heck, wear a pasta colander on your head and a hula skirt of wet noodles if the Pastafarian movement is what gets you through your big day.

It’s your Charter guaranteed freedom to worship or to not worship as you see fit, but don't for a second think your Charter given right to freedom of religion and of free expression gives you the right to dictate the beliefs of another, just because you like yours and you don't like theirs. It’s not your call, because that's not what the Charter sets out. 

If you don't like the niqab and you feel women are oppressed, rather than persecute the tiny segment of the female population that thinks differently than you, challenge the Charter that permits it in the first place. Seriously, pursue it like it's the last cubic metre of of air to breathe in the whole country. Just know that when you do so, you need inject those same feminist values, that same pro-woman culture, as a requirement into all other beliefs, expressions, policies, and laws in Canada. 

You do that and I will be your biggest cheerleader.

The day the war began

Photograph: Reuters

With the photo of a little boy dead on a beach, Canadians saw the real cost of the war in Syria today.

The news this morning did not draw our attention to the latest images of the atrocities of ISIS. Those fanatics in black devising ever more venal and gruesome killings to smear across the internet. To be sure, they are monsters to the very last man.

The images weren't of the horrific aftermath of a suicide bomber. The dead, the maimed, the traumatized. Another monster beyond all reason and humanity, intent on inflicting the greatest harm.

Our hearts were not engaged by the before and after photos of temples and monuments of the ancient world reduced to so much rubble. Over 2000 years of history, destroyed by monsters in hours.

No one hugged their child a little tighter after viewing an angry mob of foreign-looking refugees demanding to ride a train. These people are not monsters, but it's easy to imagine them as such.

Today we saw a dead little boy on a beach, washed up like refuse with his dead brother and mother. In the boneless way of youngsters, he looked like he was sleeping. His parents wanted to take them to Canada. Instead, his father is taking them back to Syria for burial.

It is easy to turn away from monsters. It is easy to vilify a people by reducing them to the worst of their people. We don’t just do it abroad, stereotyping and bigotry are alive and well on the home front. It is not so easy to turn away from a dead child. To cast a blind eye to all that hope and promise extinguished.

To that I say, publish all the refugees photos. Show us those suffocated men, women and children in the back of a refrigerated truck. Inundate us with hundreds of bloated bodies on the beaches and the bellies of ships. Go into the refugee camps and take their pictures, write their stories, tell us what they've endured and what they've lost. Rain down on us their suffering and their pain. Above all else, show us their humanity.

 

Do it over and over again and maybe, just maybe, we'll keep seeing real cost of war. 

The war that began today.

Adventures in plumbing

It's plumbing week on Chappell Street. In this unaired and conceivably finite home renovation series, we're tackling the last remaining vestiges of cast iron plumbing and putting in a new toilet.

As with everything in this temporary WWII house, the existing plumbing was poorly executed, crudely modified and deteriorated with age.

Ridding the house of its cast iron stacks is part of the larger downstairs bathroom renovation, which in turn is part of the larger downstairs renovation, which is encased in the larger renovation/rebuild of the exterior in 2012. It's like Russian dolls, but each one is a smaller Pandora's box that opens with the words "while we're at it."

In the duo that is us, one of us is incredibly handy. It's not me. I am best at ensuring everyone is fed, watered, and if necessary, libated. I am also good at holding the ends of things, carrying things, carrying one end of heavy things, unskilled labour, and retrieving well-described items from building supply stores. A smart phone helps significantly with this last task. Pictures do say a 1,000 words. On rare occasion, my geometry knowledge proves useful, but mostly I am an all purpose flunky. A sawhorse with hands, feet, car keys, a debit card and a compulsion to ensure everyone is hydrated and full.

And sometimes I have gaps in logic. 

After successfully retrieving ABS connectors and a toilet from Home Depot (because, while we're at it, let's get rid of the remaining water-pig toilet), I was draining the water from the old upstairs toilet. There was a bunch of gritty sediment at the bottom of the tank and the cloth I was using to sop up the water was getting very dirty, so I started to rinse it in the sink. This was rapidly followed by intense screaming from downstairs.  

I shut off the taps and ran, envisioning Shawn pinned beneath heavy cast iron. As I hit the top of the stairs I recalled how less than an hour ago I held the upstairs stack still as he cut through that thick metal pipe, then opened the door for him as he took it outside.

As I said, gaps.

On the upside, the flood provided some comic relief in a day of frustration and filth (poop goes through those pipes). The handy one of us was still laughing an hour later.

Thankfully, I was able to redeem myself later in the day. While applying ABS adhesive in the basement, the dabber slipped out of Shawn's hand and fell out of reach at the bottom of a 45 coupler, a foot down from the closest opening in the stack. Repeated retrieval efforts with coat hanger wire were unsuccessful. We couldn't leave it there. It was a waste inhibiting fluff ball of crazy glue attached to a metal stick. We also didn't want to undo what Shawn already put together. I told him I had an idea. I attached some fridge magnets to a string and fed it down the stack. The metal stem of the dabber stuck to the magnets and I was able to pull it back up to where Shawn could grab it through the hole.

This is not to say things have gone smoothly since then. I just put a fresh Band-aid over a small chunk of missing skin on Shawn's finger. He had to wait till I mopped up a tiny bit of blood and got more Band-aids from upstairs after accidentally impaling the side of my foot with a spade bit. Don't worry, I know first aid, we have a first-aid kit, and our tetanus shots are up to date.

Also don't worry because we've been at this for years. We're seasoned, experienced, and one of us is very handy.

Not Alone and Not of this World

I watched the Catholic Votes' parody Not Alone today. The video mimics the "It Gets Better" video series. The It Gets Better Project was founded by gay activist Dan Savage and his husband in response to the suicides of teens who were bullied for being gay or suspected of being gay. The goal of the It Gets Better Project is to prevent suicide among gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender youth.

Actually I watched Not Alone at least half a dozen times times. You're welcome for the views, Catholic Votes! Every hit counts. I suspect I'm, pardon the pun, not alone in multiple viewings. As I write this, the video has been viewed 1,330,214 times.



It starts off well enough, there's gender balance, visible minorities, nervousness, evident secrets. At 0:53, the absurdity starts. Watery-eyed, hesitant, Minority Female confesses that she's tried to change, but it's just too important. White Female says "I actually think marriage is between a man and a woman." Latino Minority Male reiterates his same belief.

That's right, Catholic Votes took a video series created to prevent gay teens from killing themselves and made it about their belief that gays shouldn't be allowed to marry. It took me two viewings to realize it wasn't satire. I wasn't sure if should feel impressed by their sheer audacity (or ignorance of irony) or revolted by their callousness. I settled on ignorance and callousness.

African Minority Male says "I already have an idea of what marriage should be. That will never change." I too have an idea of what marriage should be: brief and unrepeated, but that's my view on marriage for my own self; and that is open to change.

There were four cases before the U.S. Supreme Court that delivered the decision legalized same-sex marriage. In three cases, parents needed the legal rights marriage confers to be guardians of their own children. In the fourth, Obergfeld wanted to be named as husband on the death certificate of his partner of 21 years, and whom he legally married in another state.

Marriage may start out with a ceremony and pledges of love and devotion, but it is a legal contract bestowing protections, rights, and responsibilities, including children, property, taxation, health, retirement, inheritance, and death. These couples wanted parental rights to their children, they wanted the right to have their life together recorded in death. They wanted the same rights afforded to every other legally married couple.

In the Opinion of the Court, Justice Kennedy wrote "No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions.  They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law."

After explicitly stating their marriage beliefs, the people of Not Alone go on to express the discomfort that arises from expressing an increasingly unpopular opinion. They simply wish to speak openly about denying the same marital rights they enjoy to same-sex couples and not be judged for it. The first part is guaranteed under freedom of speech. The second part is guaranteed to have the opposite effect under freedom of speech. Everyone has an automatic right to hold and express an opinion on any side of an argument. No one has an automatic right to be liked because or in spite of their argument.

When the argument is  denying same-sex couples the right to marry, Kennedy wrote, "it is appropriate to observe these cases involve only the rights of two consenting adults whose marriages would pose no risk of harm to themselves or third parties."

No one is denying the people in this video of their right to believe and to say marriage is between a man and a woman. No one is denying them the right to appropriate an instrument to prevent suicide amongst LGBT youth to discriminate against LGBT people. No one is denying them the right to cry publicly about two consenting adults entering into a contract that does no harm to themselves or to others.

Everyone has a right to their own reaction and response. No matter how well crafted the video or how heartfelt the message expressed, even with "gay friends"(FYI, friends don't wish away friends' parental rights and spousal next-of-kin status), media is not a message sent-message accepted medium. This video is no doubt raising support and funds for Catholic Votes from its supporters, but with or without intent, it is receiving the attention of a majority that thinks differently.

Regardless of intent, whether fundraising, understanding, or support through perceived martyrdom by fictitious persecution (the denial of the right to discriminate against others is not persecution), it is likely only to resonate with an existing base and invites a Pandora's box of commentary, parody, and more parody.

When I was a kid I remember people being openly racist and it being acceptable. Those conversations wouldn't happen today, because beliefs do change over time. I may hold the Not Alone video in disdain and contempt, but in keeping with sunlight is the best disinfectant, I want their argument heard, because what can be reasonable among a group of people that think similarly, can become an obtuse, callous, and inhumane parody when exposed to the light of day of a broader audience.

Remember this? It's not happening

 

February 5, 2016 update:

Mother Canada, the 10-story vision of some privileged white dudes in need of a legacy will not be built in Cape Breton Highlands National Park.

Parks Canada announced today it could not support the $25 million project with so many unknowns, primarily money and design unknowns. The privileged white dudes, through their spokesperson, said the group was disappointed and shocked that their beloved cement woman had become a partisan political object.

They're not wrong, but that still doesn't make the project right. The only political support this project had was Stephen Harper and his Conservatives, more privileged white dudes in need of legacies. The Conservatives lost the election and their stranglehold on Parks Canada.

This project isn't being turfed because it was a Conservative project, it's being turfed because it's grotesque; unsupportable by anyone who doesn't share the same rose-coloured, myopic and misogynistic view of war (or just a sense of taste and esthetics). The privileged white dudes' website is essentially a $100k stiffy to trench and naval warfare, interspersed with excruciating design elements like the Necklace of Tears - a sponsorship opportunity - and Equality in Respect - a tribute to long ago women who kept the home front running whilst the menfolk were off to war.

Not that the men who fought our trench and naval battles don't deserve our utmost respect and gratitude, they do, but they don't deserve to have the horrors they faced glorified. Being cannon fodder is not glorious. It is also not the face of modern warfare. We pay no tribute to the fallen by holding onto a visual perception of long ago wars while we send our military into new and utterly different horrors. The enemy isn't lined up on the other side of a field or sailing off the port bow anymore. The enemy is tucked away in a highly residential area, ensuring high civilian casualties and no end of post traumatic stress. Today's enemy beheads people on camera and straps bombs to children.

This is not your grandfather's war. It's an entirely new hell.

Nor should the contributions of those women go unsung for even a second, but reducing the female war contribution to the most they were permitted to be 70 years ago, a 100 years ago, isn't honouring them. You know what women got after the First World War? A lot of shell shocked and broken husbands and sons. And the vote. After the Second? A lot of shell shocked and broken husbands and sons. It took a little longer, but they also got the pill, the workforce, and independence.

Today, our women serve as equals in the military, including combat. Get used to it.

Also get used to both our men and women coming home broken from IEDs and with heads and hearts full of PTSD. If we send them to fight, we need to be absolutely and utterly certain that decision isn't clouded by some misguided notion of the glory of war. Instead of aggrandizing the boys who lied about their age to die in a trench in the imperial insanity that was WWI, or be blown to bits on a naval ship in the south pacific in WWII, wars we won, think about Afghanistan, Iraq, and Libya. The wars we lost. The countries we made worse. The evil we helped rise.

If you want to pay tribute to our fallen, buy a poppy, attend a Remembrance day ceremony at any of the beautiful and tasteful cenotaphs that already adorn our country. Donate to veterans causes. Volunteer. Cast your vote for the political parties that didn't spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in court trying to prove they had no special obligation to provide for veterans at the same time they threw their clout and dollars behind Our Lady of Lots of Cement.

And for every last bit of grace and love and compassion and decency in this world, stop entertaining the idea that  more bombs and civilians staying and fighting is the solution to a civil war without an acceptable victor.

Remember this

A lot of words have been written about the proposed "Mother Canada" statue, a 10-story cement colossus to be installed atop an outcropping of rock within the otherwise pristine setting of Cape Breton's national park. Its named supporters are a who's who of the older white, right, and well off. 

The National Memorial website says "Mother Canada will stand tall with arms outstretched to embrace each and every one of Our Fallen who lost their lives in overseas conflicts, peacekeeping roles and Canadian missions."

The website imagery is dominated by the first and second world wars, which it names along with the Korean War. The 60 plus years of armed forces involvement since are anonymously consolidated into "peacekeeping missions" and "recent international conflicts". 

The only modern visual references are two thumbnail images, one of a blue-helmeted peacekeeper with a child, and one of a peacekeeper laying a rose on a grave. Consistent with the rest of the photographs, the soldiers are men. Inconsistent with all of the other photographs, one person, the child, is not white.

Setting aside the artist renderings of an 80-foot behemoth, the few women depicted are mothers with their children, stoically supporting the war efforts and waving their sons and husbands off to war. The statue is exactly that: a mother on a distant shore waiting eternally for the sacrificial sons who will never come home.

It's a rose-coloured tribute to a long gone era. A time when brave men enlisted to fight honourably for king/queen and country while women stayed behind and kept the home fires burning. The men died noble deaths and the women mourned with noble endurance.

A time when wars were waged against clearly defined enemies on clearly defined battlegrounds that resulted in clearly defined outcomes.

A time when we won wars.

It was a time when wars could still be won.

That time has ended. In Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and Syria, those unnamed "recent international conflicts" of the memorial website, the concept of winning has been reduced to a point in time; after which something worse happens.

We do not honour the dead by erecting a gigantesque replica of a First World War monument so a handful of privileged white conservative supporters can continue to celebrate their favorite wars of years gone by. 

We do not honour the dead by glorifying war. 

We do not honour the dead by romanticizing their sacrifice. 

We do not honour the dead by selectively paying homage to only those who died wars with acceptable outcomes.

To honour the dead, there is no finer tribute than taking care of the ones who make it back home. We have a social contract with the men and women who take up arms in our name and whom we we intentionally put in harms way. We have a sacred obligation to those that fell in our name to take up for their wounded brothers and sisters in arms.

The local supporters mostly appear to want jobs and tourism dollars. If we're going to pave paradise, erect a bloody roller coaster to go with that restaurant and gift shop and leave the fallen to rest unexploited and un-commercialized. Honour the dead by looking after the ones who make it back home. 

And remember to cast a harsh eye on any government that glorifies war while it litigates the survivors.

A Song of the South

I returned home from Little Rock, Arkansas yesterday. It was a place I knew little about and what I did know made me question if it was the place for a bleeding heart liberal like me. The recent news makers from Arkansas that trickled up to Nova Scotia did not inspire confidence. Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee and the Dugger family are folks so far to the right of my social and political beliefs it would take Einstein's theory of relativity to accurately calculate the distance between us. Throw in extremely liberal gun laws and a religious population and it didn't seem like my kind of town.

On the other hand, it was the birthplace of Bill Clinton and a recent discriminatory religious bill was booted back to the legislators for correction. I pledged to keep an open mind. I also pledged not to talk about politics, religion, and gun control for the duration.

It takes a long time to get to Little Rock from Nova Scotia. Not being a sunshine destination, there are no direct flights from Halifax. Arriving late afternoon by way of Toronto and Chicago, the din of heavy accents that greeted me at the airport reminded me of the first time I landed in St. John's, Newfoundland. It was a homey deja vu.

At the hotel we were greeted by an enthusiastic and smiling young bellman who seemed surprised to have guests from Nova Scotia. Turns out he has a friend living in P.E.I. With a head of bright red hair and freckles, he could have been Anne of Green Gable's little brother. Hot, tired, and unseasonably dressed, the hotel concierge introduced herself and proclaimed "y'all have had a long enough day" and took us to our rooms for check in.

I learned this was the start of the southern hospitality you hear about.

The first morning of the conference, one of our hosts asked us to identify ourselves if we had travelled more than 500 miles, then 1000 miles. This is when I realized I didn't know how far away Arkansas was and I certainly didn't possess the mental faculties at that hour of the morning to then convert any estimate into miles. I am not sure if Andrea caught the dumbstruck expression on my face or, in hindsight, at a district meeting of predominantly southern states, it was glaringly obvious Nova Scotia is the furthest away, but she graciously said something along the lines of "oh the heck with it, it's Nova Scotia."

I still think the print Arkansas gave us would look nicer in my living room than it will in the boardroom.

As the day progressed some things became quickly apparent. The first was a reminder that I was in a room of extremely bright, well-educated people. It's one of the reasons I like these conferences. I'm pretty sure everyone is smarter than me and they definitely know more about what we do than me so I try and act like a sponge and soak up all they have to offer.

The second was that southerners elevate public speaking to an artform.

I work in a regulatory field and the subject matter can be a little dry, politely speaking, but not when these folks were talking about it. Between the cadence of speech and what appears to be an innate and universal storytelling ability, the potentially dull becomes dramatic, rich with funny anecdote and heartfelt sentiment.

Walt Colman was the keynote speaker. I had thought an NFL referee was an odd choice for a regulators conference. It was just one more thing I was off on. I learned if there is anyone who knows what it's like to enforce the rules in the face of opposition, it's an NFL referee. He's still catching grief for calls he made 15 years ago, even by football fans that weren't born when the call was made.

Coleman said, in the course of recounting some of the feedback he's received questioning his intellect, "that I may talk with an accent, but I don't think with one." It brought me back to Newfoundland and another culture unfairly maligned by accents.

I felt better equipped for work and life at the end of the day and, as it had been since I landed, utterly welcome.

The evening dinner came with a trio of musicians that sang songs I still know the words to from childhood. Johnny Cash was from Arkansas. Afterwards we watched a live recording of a public radio show called "Songs of the South". More excellent storytelling.

Also, there was food. As you know, I love to cook and no chance for regional cuisine is going to pass me by. I think I tried every southern dish I could name, including a crawfish boil. The food was so good I had to swap out my pants for looser ones mid Friday evening.

I had a dear friend, and now her dear spouse drive from the next state because no friend was going to be this close without making the effort to see me.

We went to the Bill Clinton Presidential Library. It's a museum of the Clintons' lives and includes replicas of parts of the White House, like the Oval Office. There's also a dinosaur exhibit to spice things up.

I knew going in I really liked the conference delegates, and obviously my friend and by extension, her husband. I also really liked all the other people I met while I was there. I had to explain where Nova Scotia was sometimes, but my first thought when I found out I was going to Arkansas in June was that it would be hot enough to go to the beach. Like food, geography is also regional. Arkansas is landlocked.

I may not have had the most flattering picture of Arkansas before I left. What I found when I got there was a whole lot of kindness, hospitality, curiosity, and above all else, an impeccably mannered and self depreciating wit. These are people who will go out of their way to make sure you not only feel comfortable, but also entertained. They are deeply involved in their communities and their families. As the conference ended, our hosts were on their way to other events.

As for headlines and news makers, on the leg from Chicago to Toronto I had a great chat with an airline steward from Cleveland, Ohio. Among the other things we talked about he asked if we still had that crazy mayor. After I realized he was talking about Rob Ford, because geography is regional, I happily gave him an update on one of Canada's loudest and most unpleasant news makers; and thought touché.

Open letter to the NDP and Liberal Leaders

Dear Tom and Justin,

A three way tie does not work out in Canada's favour. It especially does not work out in Canada's favour when the voter base that isn't yours, because you have the same base, is the one most likely to turn out in droves on election day.

While I hope I'm wrong, I predict a Conservative minority government with either an NDP or Liberal opposition. The opposition party will be the one that fucks up the least before October. Currently it's looking like you, Tom, and I can't say it's undeserved after four years of throwing well-thought rocks at a wall of stupid.

Pay attention Justin, you're on watch after that yea vote on an anti-terrorism bill that never should have seen the light of day. I know it was meant to avoid a soft-on-terrorism attack ad, but in terms of weighty decisions, either you or your shortpants chose poorly. Expecting your base to get over the legislative trampling of their charter and privacy rights to not create a "wedge issue" when a Conservative majority guaranteed its passage anyway is just stupid. Everybody voted against it but your guys and the assholes that wrote it. In terms of a wedge, observe the side you placed yourself on on that 30/60 right-left split (the other 10 never ever counts).

As much as I would love a repeat of 1993 for either of you, it ain't happening come October unless Harper quits and Rona Ambrose, Helena Guergis, or Bev Oda replaces him. That ain't happening either. For the Liberals, you'd have to erase the last 20 years of the NDP government.  For the NDP, under Jack I'd say there was a chance, Tom, at this point nobody likes you as much as him.

If either of you actually gives a shit about Canada, you'll get over any ego issues the two of you have and should I be right, form a coalition after Harper’s defeat in the first vote in the House of Commons, because it's not about either of you. It's not about your parties. I don't give a flying fuck about your parties. It's about fucking Canada. It's our glorious true north strong and free. It's taking care of everything that makes me proud to be a Canadian that's been neglected, abused, dismantled, discontinued or sold off in this country in last decade.

And for the first one who says I was elected to serve my party and my constituents and I won't compromise by forming a coalition government, fuck you, you're wrong. Any gains you make in voting over the last election are not votes for you, they're votes against Harper. Even if they were votes for your party, it was because they want your MP to make things better not worse. Sitting on the sidelines splitting votes while the Harper Conservatives continue to run this country like it's Walmart is making things worse.

So Tom and Justin, suck it up, play nice with one another and fix this fucking country.

PS look at the picture. It's photo evidence you can get along.

But, but, but... what about my right to free speech?

In reading the news over the last couple weeks, it hasn't escaped me that some Canadians are harbouring some misconceptions about the right to free speech in this country.

A minor housekeeping item is the terminology. In Canada, our "freedom of expression" is enshrined in the Charter. "Freedom of speech" is an American term and their rules are slightly different.

A larger misconception is what freedom of expression gives you the right to do. Freedom of expression is the right to communicate your opinions and ideas without government interference or persecution, and even that is limited by legislation and statute.

I may believe running an ABC election campaign from the intersection of Duke and Barrington would score me a lot of media coverage, but there are laws that say I'm not allowed to stand in traffic. I can't express myself at 4:00 a.m. by having a rock concert in my backyard. I live in the city. Even north-end Dartmouth has noise bylaws.

I do not have a right to incite violence or hatred, nor do I have a right to lie to cause a person harm.*

But the granddaddy of all misconceptions is that freedom of expression is absolute. No one has absolute freedom of expression. No one. **

Freedom of expression is not freedom from consequences of expressing yourself. Freedom of expression means I won't be thrown in jail for writing "Stephen Harper is the worst prime minister Canada has ever had," but I will count myself out of a job with the Conservative Party (for life, and I'm okay with that, because he is that awful and I'd end up fired anyway).

The people who defend this guy, let's call him FHRITP, and say FHRITP doesn't deserve to lose his job, do not understand freedom of expression. While they may feel it is an inalienable right for FHRITP to scream obscenities at a female reporter (the actual legality of this is questionable), it is also the right of every human being that isn't a misogynistic emotionally-stunted jerk to express their opinions about FHRITP's actions. Including his bosses.

Those opinions lead to a review FHRITP's employment contract and subsequent firing. Freedom of expression is also limited by employment contracts, video footage, and stupidity.

A jewelry store in Mount Pearl, NL, sold a lesbian couple a set of engagement rings and before the rings were ready posted an in-store sign stating "the sanctity of marriage is under attack. Let's keep marriage between a man and a woman." To be sure when the owner said "it seems to be a Canadian right to post what you believe," he wasn't wrong. Freedom of expression does give him the right to express his beliefs. But it also gives others the right to express theirs.

Those beliefs are why the jewelry's Facebook page is shut down and the girls got a refund. Freedom of expression is also limited by capitalism, social media, and the notion of equal treatment under the law. ***

Freedom of expression is the right to express opinions and ideas. They can be wildly popular or wildly unpopular. They can be deeply held or off the cuff. What they can't be, by virtue of freedom of expression, is immune to the opinions and ideas of others.

Everyone has a right to share their opinions and ideas, even if offensive. I encourage everyone to let theirs out visibly and loudly. Get yourself out there! Be heard! Consider it a public service for everything from dating to HR. 

Freedom of expression does not equal freedom from consequences. Govern yourself accordingly. Or don't, just don't act surprised when the expressions of others bite you back. 


*Government houses have entirely different rules. 

**Maybe Kim Jong-un, but everyone who isn't afraid of being murdered by him hates him. I'm sure those people hate him too, they just don't want to die.

***The good book was used to defend slavery, segregation, and the complete subjugation of women. Western society has more or less adjusted to those things as being wrong and kept the faith. I highly doubt allowing Adam marry Steve and Eve marry Amy packs enough punch to crumble that bedrock.

Relationship meme for LTRs

Lots of people post memes on the internet that purport to explain what a real relationship is or the secret behind one. I've been with Shawn for a fairly long time and I didn't really identify with any of them. So I wondered what my own relationship meme would say.

After a couple weeks of thought, it's not terribly romantic or dramatic, but it boiled down to this:

I prefer to be in his company above all others, including my own.

Dog ownership suitibility test #1

If you're contemplating getting a dog, there are a number of steps you can take to see if you are suitable to be a dog owner. You can borrow a friend's dog and take it to the park. You can volunteer at a shelter. You can dog sit for a weekend.

These activities are a good start, but to truly know if you are compatible, you need to know what having a dog in your own living space will be like. I have devised a number of suitability tests. This first one is called Dog Dirt.

1. Ask your hairdresser to collect a full grocery bag of hair clippings.

2. Dump the hair clippings in a garbage bag.

3. Add a couple shovel fulls of dirt from your backyard to the garbage bag. For added realism, take it from your flower beds. Especially if they've been freshly planted. Overturn the rest of the bed for good measure.

4. If it is spring, add a few cups of water to the bag.

5. If you want a short haired dog, throw in a handful of lawn clippings and leaves. If you want a long haired dog, add a shovel full.

6. Mix well. If you have any black clothes or clothes that collect lint badly, you may wish to add them to the bag now, because you can forget about wearing them again if you do get a dog.

7. Take the bag inside your house and lightly sprinkle the mixture over the floor, the furniture, and everything else you own. Throw extra under the furniture.

8. If you have forced-hot-air heating, throw a little down the air ducts to make sure the dust and fur billows around properly when the heat comes on.

9. Sweep, vacuum, and mop up the mess. While you're cleaning, have a friend or spouse trail behind you sprinkling dirt and hair over all the areas you just cleaned. Have them lay in any dirt piles you accumulated and haven't swept into the dustpan yet.

10. If your spouse or friend is willing, ask them to eat some grass clippings or anything else found outside on the ground and throw it up on the floor. Ideally this should occur when you have company. Clean it up.

11. Make a sandwich. Put a some strands of hair in it. Pick the hair back out and eat the sandwich.

If you can live with this, congratulations! You've passed suitability test #1 of dog ownership.

Stay tuned next week's suitability test when we use a chisel and a hammer to hack random gouges in baseboards and moldings and then un-stuff a couch.  

The election promise I want to hear

With the release of the federal budget a couple days ago Canadian politics fully kicked into election mode, despite being months from dropping the writ. Cue the platforms. Cue the promises. Cater to the base!

I've been doing some serious reflection on my own political beliefs. Who is my base? I know it's not the Conservatives, both from using poli-sci survey tools and my deep and abiding disgust with their ideology and governance. I've always been a Liberal since I came of age, but if the last nine years of Conservative rule has taught me anything it's that blind party loyalty is a flaming pile of dog shit on every political house and by extension, all of our houses.

The poli-sci tools tell me I am totally onside with Greens, Liberals, and NDP with a narrow enough margin to make each of them first choice.

I decided to write my own election promises with the hopes that they may find their way into a platform.

I want every Canadian to have

1.  enough food to eat and a warm and safe place to sleep;
2.  equitable treatment;
3.  accessible and affordable healthcare and education;
4.  evidence-based policy and lawmaking;
5.  a government that recognizes that #1 is the minimum benchmark of governance.

The World Happiness Report was released today. The top four countries are all cold climates like ours. 1. Switzerland. 2. Iceland. 3. Denmark. 4 Norway. They do all five things.

Canada came in at #5. We need a government that, at a minimum, can keep us there. Despite achieving #5, the incumbent government is not going keep us there. They're not going to keep us there, because budget 2015, or fudget 2015 as I like to call it, is the furthest away from 1-5 of any budget in the last nine years.

I am not afraid: not winning on mortgages

President Franklin D. Roosevelt said in his 1933 inaugural address "...the only thing we have to fear is...fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." He was speaking to a nation in the despair of the great depression. He went on to lay blame squarely on the financial industry, address his nation's staggering unemployment, announce the adoption of a good neighbour foreign policy, and the very next day declared a four-day banking holiday to implement immediate financial reform.

On the eve of an election in the economic meltdown of 2008, when $15 trillion vanished from the global economy, when millions of people lost their jobs and their homes, our incumbent PM Stephen Harper offered these words of comfort and hope to his citizens:

"We always know when stock markets go up, people end up buying a lot of things that are overpriced, and when stock markets go down, people end up passing on a lot of things that are under priced. I think there are probably some gains to be made in the stock market. That's my own view."

What a hero to the people. Canada weathered the economic crisis very well, but that credit goes to our heavily regulated banking system. America's banking system was also heavily regulated, starting with Roosevelt to ensure Black Friday never happened again, but those laws were eroded over time.

The siren call of the free market took hold in the early 1980s and with each subsequent administration the old laws were defanged or outright repealed. When the Clintons took office, their national strategy to increase home ownership laid the track for the mortgage meltdown. Bush Jr. picked up their home ownership torch and the race continued. By 2008, the American financial and mortgage industries were free market and full Caligula.

Then new Rome fell.

At home in Canada there were definite losses, but what saved us that the bulk of the greed-driven insanity that occurred in the U.S. markets simply wasn't allowed under Canadian banking regulation.

We were on our way there, though. When the Conservatives took power in 2006 one of their first acts was to double available funds for government-backed mortgage insurance and raise insurable mortgage limits from 25 years to 40*. This doubled the buyers market, which subsequently spiked the housing market.

Then the meltdown happened and the Conservatives slowly brought mortgages back to what they were before they took office. They did so under the guise of being responsible fiscal managers. Really all they did was fix what they broke.

In 2012, the Conservatives cried victory with their keen financial management when within five years the average Canadian net worth exceeded that of the average American for the first time. If there was ever a time when the phrase "undeserved sense of self worth" applied, this was it.

America was still digging its way out of a financial pit of despair and its housing markets were still depressed. In Canada, the data showed the bulk of our net worth lay in real estate, the value of which received a hearty jolt from the Conservatives when they doubled the mortgage pool in 2006, and a booster with each mortgage correction that followed. At the same time, we started carrying more household debt than ever before, largely due to the high cost of real estate. In the six years between 2006 to 2012, the price of houses rose by 50 per cent.

Making changes to the market that inflate the price of real estate so that Canadians incur the highest household debt ever is not something to celebrate.  It is especially not something to celebrate when the country we're using as a benchmark is still working its way out of the recovery position.

This is engineered winning. This is manipulated statistics winning.

This is not winning at all. 

*Correction. An earlier version stated 35 years.