Western Trinity U... have got to be kidding me

The N.S. Barristers Society announced it is appealing the N.S Supreme Court decision requiring it to recognize law degrees granted by Trinity Western University on the basis that the TWU student covenant discriminates against gays (it does).

But TWU also discriminates against everyone who isn't Christian, so no Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Sikhs, etc. Atheists and agnostics need not apply.

I can only imagine the stimulating discourse and debate that arises in such an academic bastion of homogeneity.

With dismay I read that the Barristers Society is willing to accredit TWU law graduates as long as TWU stops requiring students to sign the covenant that discriminates against gays. I am dismayed because it stops leagues short of the debate that needs to be had: What bureaucratic bungling and/or insanity led to a private and openly discriminatory university being granted a law school in the first place?

The number of seats in Canadian law schools are finite. There is heavy competition for each seat. Aside from the much publicized gay issue, over 30 per cent of Canadians are not Christian, so for those new seats created at TWU, 30 per cent of the population is automatically out of the running.

Fairness and justice appear to be the fundamental principles of law. Common law, the legal system in all provinces (except Quebec), the territories, and pretty much any place colonized by the English, is all about making decisions based on a history of similar decisions. What happened then will happen now, barring legislative changes to the interpreted act and successful appeals. The intent is to dispense fairness and justice by treating everyone the same. It doesn't work perfectly all the time, but that is why an appeals process exists.

I am not questioning the integrity of any future TWU law grads, I am questioning the integrity of the people decided it was okay to establish a law school that discriminates against 30 per cent of the population.

The most popular defense is that TWU is a private university and its absence of government funds grants them autonomy. To attend a publicly-funded university, undergrad tuition across Canada taps out around $9,000 for two semesters. Depending on grade point average, age, and marital status, TWU runs students between $18,000 and $30,000 for the same. The lower the entrance marks, the higher the tuition. The bar for acceptance is a high school average of 65 per cent, which is a handful of percentage points above fogging a mirror in terms of academic standing.

As soon as TWU students are ineligible for government-funded student loans, I'll start giving their non-government funded autonomy due consideration.

The second most popular defense is freedom of religion. As someone who has read hundreds and hundreds of comments recently on news stories explaining that the hajib and naqib are cultural practices not religious tenets, with the same precision let me point out that neither the Old Testament nor the New Testament prescribe attending a Christian law school.

The Charter says we are all deserving of equal treatment. The law practiced in this country is established on the principles of fairness and justice. A law school that exempts nearly a third of the population makes a mockery of the Charter and the law by its very existence.

Revisiting anti-woman culture

A couple of weeks ago I wrote of Bikinis and Niqabs in response to the wildly disproportionate debate in the House of Commons and Canadian society over a woman's legal challenge to wear a niqab in a Canadian citizenship ceremony.

I wrote the article and considered the topic purged from my internal database of things that are rubbing me the wrong way. This works most of the time, but on occasion something comes up and I need to take a second run at things.

So let's go back to the niqab debate. Stephen Harper said we are right to reject the niqab. "Why would Canadians, contrary to our own values, embrace a practice at that time that is not transparent, that is not open and frankly is rooted in a culture that is anti-women."

Ignoring that the man praising transparency, openness, and pro-women culture has temporarily entered some kind of opposites-day twilight zone for re-election purposes, he's the one who created the federal Office of Religious Freedom and he's the one singling out one religion as anti-woman.

On the former, he should have given consideration to a federal Office of Freedom from Religion if he was going exclude certain religions, on the latter, let's talk about hypocrisy.

The arguments I've heard against the niqab typically include coercion and/or brainwashing. These women are being forced to wear these garments by their family or their significant other and if they say it's their own choice, it's because they've been brainwashed or otherwise oppressed into doing so. 

It couldn't possibly be because they wanted to, because Islam.

When I wrote in the B&N post, one thing I advocated was to learn about other religions as an outsider. It is something that Harper should do. It is something everyone should do.

I read an article today about a religion in which women were forbidden from any form of higher office and the ones who chose to devote themselves to their god locked themselves away from the world. These women are only permitted to leave their compound with special permission and only for special occasions or specific reasons, like medical appointments. Inside the compound, there is a designated visitation area, walled off from the rest of the compound and the women are permitted converse over a half wall or through a metal grate with their visitors. When it comes to work, it's piecemeal labour creating trinkets or foodstuff and performing custodial work in exchange for food and board.

Oh, and they wear black uniforms that conceal them from head to toe, which separates them from other women in the same living conditions in first world countries who wear orange.

These women were in the news today, because of their exuberant fawning over their male figurehead.



If religious freedom is a right in this country, it is a right for all people of all faiths.

If that freedom is only granted to specific, preferred, religions it is no right at all. It's a class system. 

The more things change, the more things stay the same

 Canada: 1879 

From the archives of the Canadian Illustrated News, "The Heathen Chinese in British Columbia", an illustration by James L. Weston dated April 4, 1879, depicts Amor de Cosmos, the second premier of British Columbia, and a Chinese immigrant. For the sake of clarity, Amor de Cosmos was born William Alexander Smith and the first part of the caption deals with Cosmos's name change. 

The caption:

Amor de Cosmos, i.e.: "The love of the world of the lover of mankind."

-- Heathen Chinese: "Why you sendee me offee?" 

-- A. D. C.: "Because you can't or won't 'assimilate' with us." 

-- Heathen Chinese: "What is datee?" 

 --A. D. C.: "You won't drink whiskey, and talk politics and vote like us."

Canada: 2015

 

Yesterday, Conservative MP Larry Miller, addressed the current niqab debate on a call-in radio show.

 The conversation between Miller and a radio caller:

-- Miller: "You know, like frankly, if you, if you're not willing to show your face in a ceremony, that you're joining the best country in the world, then frankly …"
-- Caller: "send ya back."
-- Miller: "Yeah. Frankly, if you don't like that or don't want to do that, stay the hell where you came from, is the way."

So if you feel the world is moving too fast, rejoice! Just become a white male politician in Canada and you too can totally ignore the passage of time.

It's like the last 136 years never ever happened!

I remembered the Canadian Illustrated News illustration from a history course I designed a decade ago. I was a political junkie then and I'm a political junkie now. At the time, I was proud of my country for being better than that.

Ten years later, the news makes me remember this cartoon.

So let's engage in a little contrast and compare. Amor de Cosmos was well known for his eccentric behaviour. A definite tip off, who in the hell renames themselves "Amor de Cosmos"? He was prone to public crying jags and known for an explosive temper that devolved into fist fights. He was also viewed as the father of B.C. Confederation. Miller, a career politician since 1991, likes to compare members of the opposition to Nazis and then retract his statements. He has passed one bill of note for the protection of lighthouses. He has also seized on to the word "frankly" with the compulsive tic of Stephen Harper and the word "clearly".

Delightfully, he has a very awkward Google images collection for someone taking hardline stance on Canadian uniformity and the rejection of other cultures, because

The Irish are fine:



Scots? You folks are also fine:



Cowboys? Totally cool with cowboys.



Nothing says cowboy like an F150.



Cowboy bondage bear? Fabulous!



[Insert mafia stereotype here]



Orange is the New Black, but the other guys are frankly and clearly terrorists.

Especially the dog, see how that brown is covering almost all of its face?



I don't know what this means, but it could be a cult.



Amos de Cosmos was eventually declared insane.

Miller? He's just your standard small-town conservative bigot who, if pictures prove anything, will adapt to any occasion to fit in and to stay in office. Including the adoption of the Conservative 2015 election platform of fear and loathing.

For Clare Humphrey

I've written about my father and my grandmother (and my dog), people who have passed on. My niece pointed out it's unfortunate that I write about people after they are dead, because they don't get to read it. I need to look at, with permission of course, writing about the living as time goes on.

Until that point, someone who had read what I wrote about dad and granny said they would also like to read about my grandfather, Clare. That they knew my grandfather, makes me remember my grandfather.

I was 13 when my grandfather passed away, so my memories are old, fragmented, and tempered with recollections of family members that occurred long after his passing.

Clare Humphrey was born in northern Ontario in 1912. I think his mother came here from Ireland and I know that his childhood was hard. Today, children are gifts to shower with love and opportunity, then, children were more of an inevitability that provided free labour. He didn't talk about his childhood, but I remember numerous discussions of my mom and grandmother about his foot trouble being a result of getting one new pair of workboots a year. They were purchased without fitting and worn regardless.

I remember him telling me about cleaning mink pelts for money during the depression, I want to say it was a half penny a pelt, but that sounds like a high figure for the time.

I know he and my grandmother lived in a tent for the first six months they were married to save up rent. I know they were able to rent part of a farmhouse after that. Eventually they got their own farm.

I know he worked the land by horse long before tractors were available and knew hardship I've never experienced. From my grandparents I know gravy on bread, which is what you eat when you're still hungry after meat and potatoes are finished.

I remember the smell of the Brill cream in his hair and his Old Spice and Aqua Velva aftershave (Christmas gift box dependent). He didn't have much hair. In an unkind wind it was a coxcomb.

He went to church every Sunday.

His hands, his feet, and his leg were deformed by rheumatoid arthritis, but he walked every day to keep his weight and his infirmity at bay.

He always maintained that the best farmlands in Ontario were buried under concrete in Toronto. He was right, they are.

He liked the occasional beer and I have it on good authority he liked dancing when he was young and attending house parties with my grandmother.

He could listen to the news on the radio while reading the newspaper and watching the news on TV. This apparently, is hereditary, just replace "radio" with "internet".

He really loved my grandmother. And the rest of us. I know he delighted in his grandchildren in a way he wasn't able to with his own children. Age and financial security, even through old age pension are wonderful mellowers.

He and my grandmother were always with us. We lived 12 feet away and we certainly enjoyed him. He was game for everything from carpentry to build Barbi plastic horse barns and real bunny hutches to bathing 4-H show chickens. For a man who forgot more about agriculture and animal husbandry than the majority of my generation knows, there was enough whimsy left to fully appreciate the sight of a rooster lifting its wings to let the hot air of a hairdryer blow in his armpits.

As the chunky one of three sisters, the other two having elegant limbs, fingers, and toes, my grandfather used to hold my chubby, freckly hands and tell me how nice and soft and ladylike they were. It's a good grandfather who can either see feelings of inadequacy and work with them, or to be old fashioned enough that soft plump was still the standard of prettiness. Thanks for that Grandpa.

He thought all the dogs he spoiled rotten were were no-good wastrels. The dogs worshiped him in kind.

I know he believed he lived as long or longer than he ought and when he did pass that winter day, it was sad for us, but not unwelcome for him. He was eternally practical and pragmatic, like my father.

He was salt of the earth and I could not wish to be from better stock.

Bikinis and Niqabs

I remember the first time I encountered topless sunbathing. It was my first trip to Cuba and my first trip outside Canada. The start was a little rocky. We were in the air for an extra hour with heavy turbulence from a huge electrical storm.  Cuban airports 10 years ago were a lot less friendly than they are now. There were men and women in military uniforms everywhere. I did not expect to walk across tarmac, nor for the airport to be that tiny. I did not expect customs people to be so unfriendly and I certainly did not expect all the AK47s they were sporting.

I didn't expect, but was thrilled by the $1 beer vendors once I cleared customs. That more $1 beers were available on the air-conditioned bus to the resort was even better.

Getting to the resort and being told they had no record of us and to go away was definitely unexpected. It was at this point I felt really far from home. Shawn sent me to the bar to have a drink while he argued our right to be there. We had a backup plan: VISA, but I was still inwardly freaking out. For some reason being in a communist country was suddenly ridiculously scary and on repeat in my head.

When I saw a family friend I had known as long as I could remember, walk towards the bar I decided I had lost my shit all together. Then I saw him join his wife. Turns out I travelled 3,000 kilometres to be reunited with friends from my hometown. Their daughter was on our flight, I just didn't see her on the plane. If the backup plan failed, we had a third option. Crash with the neighbours for the night.

Shawn got us a room and for the next two days we evaded being thrown off the resort, which happened twice a day with shift changes. On the third day, we got it all sorted out and were most welcome guests for the rest of our stay.

I learned what Cuba-time meant, it's about half an hour past what the clock says, and that self-tanner lasts approximately three hours at a swim-up bar. I learned that Cubans who have nothing seem far better adjusted (and better looking) than Canadians who have everything. I learned I loved to watch the staff greet one another, because they were so affectionate.

I learned that the other-side-of-the-pond women prefer topless sunbathing. All sizes, all ages, all boobs. It was eye opening. I'm pretty sure they damned near popped out of my head. I adjusted, and by the end of the week I was able to hold down genuine conversations with topless ladies.

Now I consider wearing a bikini a bold and daring enterprise, and that's just buying the damned thing. Florescent change-room lights are no woman's friend. On that first trip, I didn't even consider bringing a bikini. Till I got down there and realized everyone else was wearing a bikini or less. Then I really wanted a bikini, but I never considered going topless.

I thought it was fantastic that all of these women felt comfortable being topless in front of crowds of strangers, just like men do. It made me realize how covered up our culture is. At an all-ages resort with more European guests than Canadian, the top wearers were the minority and bare boobs at the pool and beach were totally normal.

I still had zero desire to join them. It is not how I was raised. Which brings me to the current blow up over Zunera Ishaq wanting to wear a niqab during the citizenship ceremony with her identity confirmed in private, making her enemy number one of Stephen Harper and his election platform of jihadi terrorism.

I will admit, I have seen few niqabs in my lifetime. Each time I do the feminist in me recoils. The atheist damned near strokes out. I want every woman to feel comfortable and safe out in the world in whatever they choose to wear. I want every woman to be comfortable and safe out in the world in whatever they choose to wear. To that end, I think the Europeans are light years ahead of us in terms of our modesty here in North America.

I don't like the niqab. I don't like any segment of society that makes a woman hide or alter her appearance from the world, whether it be for faith or for safety or for societal norm. My own society included, see breast implants, rhinoplasty, liposuction.

For all my rocky start on that first trip to Cuba, if someone demanded I take my top off to belong there, that would have been the icing on the cake.  I don't know Ishaq's motivation for wanting to be veiled at the ceremony. Is it faith? Is it modesty? Is it coercion? What it really is, is none of my business.

What is my business, because this is my country and I have a vote, is ensuring we provide a safe and welcoming environment to immigrants so they can become a part of our society and our culture. So their children can become a part of our society and our culture.

So we stop creating culture ghettos.

If Ishaq wants to wear a veil and verify her identity in private, let her do that. I fail to see how forcing her to expose herself in a way she is obviously not comfortable with is making her a Canadian. I fail to see how that makes the rest of us better Canadians.

We are the true north strong and free. We are the friendly fucking Canadians. We are a people whose rights to freedom of expression and freedom of religion are enshrined in law.

If anyone thinks forcing a woman to show her face is going to turn the tides of terrorism and religious extremism, they need to go back to daycare and take another crack at life. Start with colonialism and decades of failed foreign policy. Wars of dubious and/or commercial origins. The consequences of believing democracy will flourish in the dictatorship vacuum of an impoverished, unequal, and largely illiterate society.

Learn about all major world religions as an outside observer. Especially your own. Nature evolves, society evolves, law evolves with it. Religion on the other hand, appears to be the evolutionary equivalent of a coelacanth, with sufficient interpretive qualities to justify anything and everything. The fundamentalist imam is a human rights nightmare, but so is Pat Robertson.  

If we want people to stop blowing themselves up to get to heaven, perhaps we should take a look and see if they are living in hell. If they are, there's a place to start.

This is not an apology for any behavior. Heinous acts are heinous acts, whether it's strapping on a suicide bomb or funding and arming an extremist group to fight a cold war enemy and ruin a country. Humanity has nothing to be gained by vilifying an entire people for the actions of some. It is an action in which both west and east are indulging with abandon.

We have one planet. We all have to live on it. We could all do with a lot less hate, a lot less faith, a whole lot less greed, and a whole lot more equality, justice, science, literature, history, and above all else, agronomy so we can feed everyone and fucking tolerance so we can stop killing one another.

Attention: HR manager, who may or may not be Diaiqnneqe Afiiello

According to Google Blogger stats, Oracle of Chappell Street, the product of my 2014 New Year's resolution to "write stuff", is about to hit 3,000 views. To mark the occasion, I thought about posting a link to one of what I feel are pretty decent stories, like What Difference Will 12 Years Make? or The tragic case of Joellen Huntley, or even most-read Rise again you muddy windy glorious festival (because everyone loves Stanfest). But as I was scrolling, I saw a typo in the post below, fixed it and a few other things, and when I updated it dated itself to today.

So for 3,000 views, here is easily-entertained me replying to spam.

Attention: HR manager, who may or may not be Diaiqnneqe Afiiello,

My dear good friend. I was most excited to hear your rapidly growing, yet unnamed company is expanding into Canada by hiring one administrative assistant. You can colour me happy, because I'm your Canadian expansion and I'm starting right now!

Note the use of the letter "u" in "colour". That is the correct spelling. Once my employment contract is signed, I expect everyone the company to convert to Canadian English in all correspondence. No more of this willy nilly letter dropping. It's not like we write in cursive anymore, we type. To continue to omit consonants and vowels is just plain lazy. Embrace the double L. Also, per your letter of offer, "administrative assistant" is a common noun and not capitalized unless it is used as a title and only in certain instances.

I have much to teach you.

I know, right? Look at me being a self starter.

Did you know your third sentence is a series of business "buzz" words that mean absolutely nothing? This is a job description, not a contest to see how much asinine jargon can fit in one sentence. You're supposed to provide details in a job description, that's why it's called a description. Also, there is clearly a typo in the salary, otherwise, how do you explain a salary range spanning $26,400 based on shift length?

The rest of your email is equally flawed. I won't point out every wrong thing you've written, I don't have that much time.

Here are the highlights:

If it is a work-from-home position, obviously there is no need to relocate. Your saying so is redundant. One could even go so far as to say dumb.

"Ease of use of keyboard and computer programs, including Microsoft and Windows based programs." You do realize Windows is Microsoft? That I am writing this on a computer?

What does "ease of use of" mean in your technically-illiterate world?

"Ability to work in a fast paced environment..." It's still a work from home position. The environment is home, it is the work activities that may be fast paced. You made the same mistake when you said "exciting environment".

While your abysmal writing skills are an issue, your biggest error is recruiting off a purchased/ pirated email list. That's what those lowlife fraudsters that trick naive individuals into performing phony Western Union drops and cheque deposit schemes do. Same for those lying dirt bags who extract money out of people with the promise of a job that never comes.

Those people are parasitic spamming scum that should be banned from the internet forever.

I trust you will find my email resourceful and enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I look forward to hearing from you shortly so we can discuss this position, and your inadequacies as an HR manager in greater detail.

Sincerely,

Your dear good friend

Dear Karl, you sorry sack of a travel writer

I just finished your New York Times Magazine article My Saga. A 10,680 word essay of your voyage tracing the steps of the Vikings through the New World. In response to your obvious cry for help, because let's face it, Dear Abby gets less pathetic missives, let's look at where you are going wrong.

There is no small irony in your commission as author of this voyage, because real vikings would have left you to die on an ice flow.

For starters, you're really using "My Saga" to document a couple of airplane and car rides between two first world countries? A bit of over-the-top hyperbole don't you think? I mean it's hardly the Iliad. It's less travel than the average snowbird with a Winnebago sees in two weeks.

You whimsically explain how you are incapable of holding on to personal property, not just your own, but that of your family. Passports, credit cards, computers, etc., things that impede travel and lodging, and things that you didn't get back until you enlisted the help of strangers in a strange land. Do you think this is fun for the people around you? For your family that can't count on you and for the police that then had to help you? Viking fail.

You are incapable of carrying out assignments as instructed and on time. Who takes a work assignment that requires driving in a foreign land without possession of a driver's licence? To that end, what kind of kind of narcissistic asshole goes anyway, expecting an embassy to act as your personal registry of motor vehicles? You are retracing the steps of men and women who crossed the Atlantic by longboat. Imagine the level of cooperation and survival skills that went into that voyage. You can't even get your shit together to obtain a copy of your driver's licence a year after losing it. Viking fail.

Vikings were experts at navigation and reconnaissance. You? You don't even know how to use the internet. Boo hoo the park is closed. It was two clicks to find that out from anywhere in the world. Boo hoo I don't know what to tip in North America. That's one click. Boo hoo, my waitress from outport Newfoundland is staring at me. Well she's probably never seen the Urban Dictionary definition of Eurotrash in the flesh. In Canadian centers, your aged 90s grunge band by way of Stockholm look would be written off as a has-been in denial, but in rural Newfoundland, you stand out like a fucking unicorn. As a party of one, viking fail.

Then there's your brilliant life strategy of ignoring every grown up responsibility that comes your way because your overblown sense of self worth leads you to think your self-inflicted suffering will result a masterpiece. Seriously, you are a 49-year-old father of four and no institution will give you a bank account, a cell phone contract, a mortgage, or a car loan. You are far too long in the tooth to be Peter Pan. No, you are just one divorce away from a deadbeat dad. I don't know if this is a viking fail, but it's a sorry ass excuse for life strategy.

Which leads me to the Dumb and Dumber portion of your essay. On a story about viking lands, you wrote almost 600 words about taking a shit and your inability to fix a simple toilet. Why? It made sense to make shit jokes in a low-brow Jim Carey vehicle, but you, believe it or not, are writing a travel piece. 

If this is the best you have to offer, eventually even the people who like your writing are going to realize that your gig is nothing more than intentionally wreaking havoc upon your life and the lives of those around you in exchange for self-absorbed, angst-filled writing fodder.

In terms of viking stock, Karl, you are dead last in the longboat.