The Catalytic Corral

This Blog is Dead!

2006-10-06T10:31:00.000-06:00

Dearly beloved:

We are gathered here today to remember the life and times of a humble, yet complex blog that, in its own way, allowed us all to laugh and cry in the face of life's aridity. The Catalytic Corral was a sweet blog, a kind blog, a blog that aimed to improve the lives of others around it. It never faltered in its genuine altruism, or its sincere desire to help others smile. Although from time to time the Corral would go for months without a single post - or comment - it continued to stand as a testament to the absurd, the abstract and the utter bamboozelment of political satire. While the days of the Catalytic Corral are over, we all must find a way to go on; Sen Cat would have wanted it that way. So do not fret my bretheren, do not despair and do not feign a posture of normalcy. These are hard times, and it is best in such circumstances to come together, to be with those who can help us remember the good and the hard times we all shared with the Corral.

And with that, I ask you all to go in peace, and to take a moment for solemn reflection upon today, tomorrow, and next Wednesday. It's a crazy-ass world out there ladies and gents, crazy-ass as hell.

München!

2006-06-08T13:27:00.000-06:00

Finally I have a safe and affordable place to sit down and write. When we were in Barcelona I couldn´t access the Shaw webpage to read my e-mails or get onto Blogger from the shitty hostel at which we were staying. I could do it from an E-mail-o-matic Zone, but this was expensive and stinky. And then when we were in Rome, we couldn´t stop to do such silly things as post on blogs that nobody reads anywayz. A very similar situation developed in Ljubljana, my new home away from home.

Yes so now we are in Bavaria the world´s capitol for Weisse bier and pretzels. I will try to update this page again over the weekend and I will write a little more about Slovenia.

tschüss!

Leaving Cascais

2006-05-25T12:18:00.000-06:00

Char and I are both very sad to be leaving Portugal tonight. This is really a special place and I know that I will be coming back again some day. The people in Portugal are infinitely nicer than the people in Southern Spain that we met, who considered us a burder that they had to bare. But Cascais (pronounced Cash-Caish) is really a little Paradise on Earth. I´ve decide that I will forgoe trying to learn Spanish and instead will work on my Portugese so that when I return I will be able to converse a little with the great people of Portugal. People like Juão and Rudrigô, who drove me in to see the Barriô Alto and got me pissed in the oldest district of Lisbon, and of course, people like Debra and Antoniô, who put us up and entertained us with excellent food and wine. I will never in my life forget the Portugese sense of hospitality.

Tonight we take the night train to Madid and then catch a connector to Barcelona where we will try to find lodging on a busy Friday night. And then the trick becomes trying to get to Slovenia as soon as possible, where our allowances will be stretched further then they would in Spain, France or expensive Italy.

Pool Vs. Ocean

2006-05-24T13:22:00.000-06:00

"But the beach is all sand and salt and wind and sand in my face" I said.

"No, the beach is beautiful and wonderful and the whole reason we´re here" she said.

"Alright" I said. "But it doesn´t make any sense, why would the hotel build such a nice swimming pool for us if the ocean was all you´re saying it is? I mean, don´t get me wrong the ocean IS beautiful, and the view is fantastic. But surely they´ve cleverly anticipated that in some months the ocean will be too cold for even the bravest tourists, and that on some days, even in the hot months, the wind will be too strong for a good beach session. That´s probably why they built such high walls around the swimming pool, to keep the wind out, and the rif-raff" I said.

She looked at me with a face. So we went to the beach.

But the beach was windy and sandy and salty. And the water was cold enough to scare a man´s testicles away. So we went to the pool. And it was good. And they served drinks at the pool. And we saw that this was good. And the wind: there was none.

Involuntary Philanthropy

2006-05-22T13:25:00.000-06:00

I forgot to mention that yesterday Char and I visited the great city of Madrid. We had an eight-hour stop-off in Spain´s capitol city while we awaited the night train to Lisbon. So, we took a ride on the metro to La Plaza de Castilla and then walked a couple of blocks ´til we found a fancy little yuppy joint that served a la cart dishes with wine.

While we dined, a scruffy old man came up to peddle some cheap imitation Rolexes, and seing as how I needed a watch and wanted to help him out, I decided to haggle. We agreed on 20 Euros (which is way too much anyway - about 30 dollars Canadian) because, well, because I had 20 Euros to spare and he didn´t. He didn´t look like a drug addict or anything, he just looked like a skinny old Spanish guy with a cigarette in his mouth. Guess what though? The watch doesn´t work. It is completely useless. But I´ve moved on. It was a good day for him and that has to be worth something.

My only other complaint about Madrid is that it only has about 6 public washrooms. Five million people, six public washrooms, and I think I used everyone of them (the greasy food having really caught up to me in the last few days).

Chau

Getting Trashy on the Train, Euro-style

2006-05-20T22:49:00.000-06:00

This morning we leave our comfortable little flat here in Granada on a five-hour train ride to Madrid were we will have about eight hours to catch some of the sights and maybe even check out a bullfight. Then we're taking an overnight train to Lisbon, Portugal and shaking up with Char's aunt and uncle. It will be the last of her vast family that we will be visiting here in Europe.

We're only hanging out in Lisbon for a day or two and then we're going to make the long train journey all the way to Slovenia, stopping at intervals along the way.

El Alhambra

2006-05-19T15:26:00.000-06:00

Up early this morning to get a good place in line to see the world-famous Alhambra. But despite leaving the apartment at quarter passed seven, we still managed to show up just in time to get the last place in the lineup. The Alhambra has stood for nearly 900 years and is the pride of the people of Granada. Everyday nearly 6,000 people visit the Alhambra - the red castle - which is basically on the backup roster of the Seven Wonders of the World. So, if Ankor Wat ever crumbles or if the Sphinx uses up all of its lives, then the Alhambra may be in the contest for the position. Except that when we got to the front of the line, they told us that they would only be letting in 50 more people... ever; I guess they're buildind a Wal Mart.

So what's the Alhambra like? It's a giant walled city on top of a hill. It's red-ish, and it has a lot of archeological excavation things happening in and around it. We did it cheap-skate style so we didn't have a guide or one of those fancy hedsets that provide you with interesting information, so for all intents and purposes, it was just a bunch of old buildings surrounded by even older walls. I was sure that there had to have been something that happened there over the course of the last millenium so we tried to eavesdrop on some of the guided tours but they didn't take kindly to that tactic, until we found a nice bunch of German tourists and their guide who didn't seem to care that we were following them (content that we weren't really getting the full value of the tour). I was able to decipher some history from the Germman guide's comments though: Konigen this und soldat that, und arbeiten dis und Muslim dat, etc.

Then you go into the Palacio Nazariea, which has amazing detail in the interior decor. Inside the palace chambers you can really see the confluence of Arabic and Spanish influences. If you ever go, however, you should pay for the tour because, well, I'm sure things have happened in there too. All in all, we spent 5 whole hours at the Alhambra and in the end I had to ask a group of American tourists when the place was constructed and how many people a day visit the place (two points of info I would have been at a serious loss without).

As far as castles go: one of the best. But, eighth Wonder of the World? Ich wisse nicht!

Gunners Vs. Barcelona

2006-05-18T05:35:00.000-06:00

It was all fireworks and ambulances last night here in Granada after the Barcelona team defeated Arsrenal 2-1 in what I am told is supposed to be the last important soccer - er, football - game before the opening of the World Cup in Munich on June 9. Of course, I have been told that since we got to Europe.

Riding into down town last night on the bus, some little shit Spanish kid wearing a Barcelona jersey wipped a chocolate milk carton at me throgh the window of the bus and it hit me in the face. I guess he thought I was an Arsenal fan. Funny thing: until a few weeks ago, I thought Arsenal was a Spanish team! I wasn't too pissed off, however, because the kid had a bad mullet haircut and an ugly girlfirend, and all the flying chocalate milk cartons in Spain won't change that. Ass.

When I got to the Irish bar (which usually is dominated by Irish, American, English and English-speaking Dutch people,) it was packed with screaming Barcelona fans. I found the only British people in the bar and bought them all a round of pints. To be honest, I felt kind of bad for them, but mostly I felt a kind of comraderie with them on account of the whole chocolate milk experience. I was converted into an Arsenal fan last night.

40 Degrees!

2006-05-17T08:48:00.000-06:00

Let me just say this: when your packing your bags for Spain, you'd be well advised to leave your sweat shirts at home. Actually, cloths are kind of frivolous baggage all together. It's bloody hotter that Haites right now and all we can do is hang out in the apartement and take cold showers every now and then.

We went to the Spanish baths today (swim suits mandatory) and had a very relaxing afternoon. Only 22 Euros for an hour of bathing and tea and a twenty minute massage; it was money well spent, except that we didn't have to pay for it cause it all gets billed to the University that Brian is consulting for. What a scam!

The University of Granada, incidentally, is the biggest in Spain. Its faculty buildings are scattered all over the city. Brian and Shawna's apartement is right opposite the Departimento Infomatico, which is an interesting building with an 'art nuveau' design but that has these huge cylindrical towers that sort of make it look like a castle. I'm looking at it right now. For those who are less impressed by buildings on their own, the Sierra Nevada mountains are situated behind the building, complementing the vista quite nicely. To be sure, the Sierra Nevada moutains are impressive in their own right too.

Yesterday we went climbing with Blob and his very very Spanish friend 'Jimmy'. I don't think Jimmy's name is really Jimmy, but that's what Brian calls him and it's really funny when he says "Y-ay, will you take picture of Brian and Y-immy?" I did one climb right away to get it over with and I swore the whole way up and the whole way down. Char did a bunch of climbs and she is quite an athlete at it. Brian and Y-immy climbed and climbed and sweated the day away. I sat in the shade drinking beer and reading my book. Suckers. It's called 'The Drifters' by James A. Michener. It's about young people going to Spain. How about that?

Ya. So that's that. Hot hot hot.

Just Another Travel Blog

2006-05-16T03:17:00.000-06:00

Yessir, I'm converting this blog into a travel digest!

You'll find politics of the Canadian sort here no longer. I might gap a bit about interesting political developments I see here in Europe, but it's unlikely, cause we've already left the Tony Blair show, and I can't really speak the languages. So, it'll pretty much be: "..and then we saw an old man on a donkey, and then some little kids came and spanked the donkey, and then an old lady came and yeld at the little kids, and then the little kids spanked the old lady...", etc. Yep, it's going to be quite an adventure for the next couple of weeks. So sit back, relax and vicariously enjoy the sights and wonders of Spain, Portugal, France, Italy, Croatia, Slovenia, Austria, und Deutchland!

When I return to the beautiful ol' C-A-N-A-D-A, I shall return to my regular old business of neglecting my shitty blog all together, only to occasionally reapear with some un-insightful comment about the state of affairs in my home and native land.

Chau.

Michi

For Better or Worse

2006-01-16T14:58:00.000-07:00

125 Conservative

98 Liberal

55 Bloq Quebecois

29 Nuvelle Parti Democratic

1 Other (likely an Independent, possibly a First Peoples National Party rep, plausibly a Marxist-Leninist, and maybe even hypothetically a Green.)

These numbers are a biproduct of extensive riding analysis and an unhealthy CPAC addiction which I am currently seeking help for. Well, I guess I shouldn't go so far as to say "extensive riding analysis." I mostly just pulled them out of my ass, which just so happens to be fairly well tuned to the beat of this sort of thing. Of course, it would only be fair of me to add that, although I think myself as somewhat of a knowledgeable individual when it comes to the political realm, when it comes to gauging the outcome of elections I am sort of batting 500. In the last federal election, like many others, I overestimated the the performance of the Conservatives by about 20 seats (a margin of error so profound that it could even make a novice political hack blush.) While many of my friends were more accurately predicting a Liberal minority government, my numbers had me drifting into the blue. Also, I gave Jack Layton more credit than he was probably worth at the time, plotting the NDP somewheres in and around the 34 mark if I do recall, which at least gave my buddy Dan a good laugh. I did, however, receive the dubious honor of being the only one in my geek circle to correctly predict the number of Bloq Quebecois seats at 54, something that I hope I can repeat this time (loosing just 1 more seat this time to those bastards would be something in the way of damage control, like buring a small patch of trees in order to save the greater forest.) Last time around, I also predicted an Independent AND a Green, something I now do out of optimistic habbit.

There you have it. My numbers, for better or for worse.

Beatin' Me a Dead Horse

2005-12-19T12:57:00.000-07:00

Stephen Harper has made his position clear on the issue of same-sex marriage. He has said, time and time again, that upon becoming Prime Minister he would, "allow for a free-vote in the House of Commons on the issue." That is what he said. In my mind there's nothing ambiguous about that. Thus, his agenda is by no means hidden: he's opposed to same-sex marriages, and he would like to see them become a thing of the past.

Conversely, Prime Minister Paul Martin has, time and time again, insisted that there would be no way for Steven Harper to do this without applying the notwithstanding clause to the case of same-sex marriage. I believe that this is true. I believe that any legislation disallowing gay marriages would eventually be challenged and found to be in violation of key provisions of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, and that consequently, the only way to maintain such legislation would be to apply the notwithstanding measure. If someone knows another way to uphold such legislation in the likely event that the Supreme Court strikes it down, I would like to know to what that is. Or, if there is some other proposal out there that essentially reworks the legislation in such a way that avoids judicial scruity against Charter provisions, I would also like to know what that is.

Now, I do not feel as though I have very much at stake in this whole debate. Although I am a Liberal and I happen to support the Prime Minister's position on this, I am generally not motivated by this particular issue. This is in fact the first time I have ever written (or thought) about it at any length. I am not a gay man, nor am I a married one. I don't plan to get married any time soon, but, even if I were to get married tomorrow, I don't think I would be too discouraged to know that a gay couple somewhere was doing the same thing.

I do have a couple of logistical questions though.

Would a piece of Conservative legislation restricting gay-marriage be made to be retroactive? Would the 8,000 or so gay couples who've already been married in Canada be forced to get annulments or state-forced divorces? Or, would such legislation only apply to future cases? And, if it did only apply to future cases, how could the courts dismiss as precedents the existing marriages of more than 16,000 individuals? There also exists a logical paradox here. How could any law specifically designed to protect the sanctity of marriage at the same time actively promote the dissolution of marriages? To me, this question is a serious one. Laws cannot be so incongruous and paradoxical; if they are, then respect for the law is innevitably forsaken, and the law will have no force. In other words, if a law inherently violates itself, then the law will be of no consequence in the long run; if a law is irresolute and undermining of its original intent, then it will be not long for this world. Then again, I’m no lawyer, I’m just making this up as I go along.

But I think that if Steven Harper really feels that disallowing gay-marriage is more important than maintaining good optics (i.e. not utilizing the notwithstanding clause to impede the rights of a minority group) he should come out and say just that. If he believes, as Conservatives so often claim, that a national referendum would demonstrate that Canadians are opposed to same-sex marriage, then it shouldn't even be a political risk to do this. He should say something like: "Gay marriage is wrong. I believe that most Canadians believe that Gay marriage is wrong. We would consider every option available to defend the original definition of marriage, including using the notwithstanding clause to protect federal legislation banning same-sex marriage." That’s what he should say if he’s hell-bent on having his free-vote, otherwise such a vote would be an exercise in futility!

That’s what I think.

Sneaking Back In

2005-12-16T18:39:00.000-07:00

After about a three month respite from the blogging scene, I felt it was time to actually sit down and type a just a few morsels if not just to get the juices flowing again. Senator Catalyst has indeed been absent from the type pad for quite some time, however, after reviewing my cousin's newly created blog some of the old urges started to come back to me. And since we're coming up on the holidays, and since there's an election on, I figured I might as well spruce up the old weblog for the holidays and maybe make a couple of oberservations along the way and whatnot.

Since my last post, electricity has been invented, work on the Suez Canal has been finalised, and they have found a cure for polio. I've also noticed that, since I've last composed a post on this site, many of my former blogging chums, including Daveberta, have moved on to the big-big leagues where flashy gismos and revolving graphics prevail. To their credit, they have kept me in their links list, obviously in the hope that I might one day get my shit together once more. Well friends, today might very well be that day.

I have, in any event, had a brutal semester. I have no plans to learn of the nature of my grades until well into next semester. These next few weeks will most definitely serve as a cooling off period, to gather my thoughts, and maybe even through a few into the smouldering cesspit that is the boubling Canadian political blogosphere.

For now, I gotta go; my girlfriend is yelling at me.

Why Do People Stop Blogging?

2005-10-05T23:32:00.000-06:00

It's a valid question I think. Why do people stop blogging? And I don't reckon it's often asked, well, at least not so often as the question "why do people blog?" Or questions of a similar variety like "who are they who blog?" and of course "why do they blog?" (That may very well be the same as the first example but fuck it.)

Well, that is my unique charge for this evening: to analyze the phenomenon of blogumission (that is to say, the formal emancipation of oneself from blog culture or conversely the emancipation of one's blog and/or blogs from the vilainous grasps of one's own overlording philosophy and weltenshauung manifested through the physical act of typage on a daily basis.) It won't be easy, but I am armed with an unimpeachable source - myself. For I, as some of you may know, am a bonnefied blogumissionist (if you will allow me to continue with the already tired and admittedly weak, if not all together inapropriate analogy.)

Yes indeed, I am a bad blogger; been that way for 'round a month or so, maybe longer, and I ain't short of excuses neither. Predominant among em is what I consider the Occam's Razor of all excuses: that is, I am no longer employed as a summer student in an office anymore. And I can imagine I am not alone on this one. Several bloggers I've communicated with over the year (singular) have been students (like me) who work boring office jobs throughout the summer break (like me.) I haven't had the time to verify this empirically, but I'm am nevertheless satisfied by my preliminary hypothesis that indeed 23% of September blog-inactivity is directly correlated with the fact that jackassity students are returning to the class room and leaving their beloved office beta-fishes behind.

Then, there's the the whole declaration of intent to acquiesque the intellectual property of another blog/and/or meta-blog. Coupled with the fact that I then failed to carry our devious plan through to fruition. I got to admit, that hurt me on so many levels. I even considered, you know, pulling the plug on the whole operation (in the proverbial sense, you know, the big...[Delete Blog] option.) But in the end, I figured the why not hold on to the thing for a while at least until Senator Catalyst gets a grip on things.

But, should all go as planned it won't be the last of either of us.

Sincerely indeed,

Congressman Caveat

A Catalytic Revival

2005-08-29T14:36:00.000-06:00

As the Summer winds finally wind-down to a gentle murmur, I figured it high-time to dust of my trusty postmachine and give the old keyboard a pound or three.

My sexy sidekick Charlotte and I certainly had ourselves a lovely time basking in the British Columbian Sun. Most of our days were spent enjoying the Province’s many beaches and establishments of fine libation and munchmatter. All-in-all it was a wonderful trip. Growing up as an Albertan, I have always considered going to B.C. a real tropical adventure, which is a considerable advantage considering a trip to Vancouver Island is only about half the price of a vacation to any given equatorial paradise. Plus, I get the added benefit of knowing that my money gets re-imputed back into the Canadian Economy, for whatever that’s worth!

In a week or two, I will be returning to my Alma Mater for one final year of study in the field of political science. Then it’s off to Law School, methinks. Yep, another ambulance chaser in the making; what can I say?

In the mean time, it’ll be back too usual here at the Corral. But one day at a time, eh. One day at a time.

Desiderata

2005-08-04T10:30:00.000-06:00

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and ignorant;
for they to have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be careful.
Strive to be happy.

(Until very recently, it was my understanding that Desiderata was found, anonymously authored, in the library of Old Saint Paul's Church in Baltimore MA, dated 1692. Apparently, that is not true. In fact, Desiderata was composed by a man named Max Ehrmann, an Indiana lawyer who lived from 1872-1945. It is presumed that he wrote it in 1927, althoug there is still some dispute about that. The poem gained mythical status after the demise of Democratic Presidential candidate Adlai A. Stevenson in 1965. The story goes that a copy of the poem was found on the bedside table of Mr. Stevenson, who had intended to use it in his Christmas card. Afterward, the poem was adopted by the "flower power" crowd of the 1960s as a tool of peace, and later on, by shameless bloggers of the 21st Century looking for some mid-week filler material :)

If you prefer, you can also read it to the tune of "We are the Champions" or "MacArthur Park" or some such other pop hit (although I think it cheapens it, just a little.)

Alberta Separatists make me sick.

2005-08-03T17:06:00.000-06:00

They do, they make me feel nauseous. They make me feel weak in the knees. And for some reason, they make me twice as sick as separatists from Quebec. I have spoken about my great disgust for Quebec Separatists before, and they, I hope we can all agree, are a fucking miserable lot.

But why is it that Canada-hating Albertans bug me so? Until very recently I’ve always found them to be a rather novel element to the mainstream variety of Ottawa-loathing Albertacrat. Good for a joke or two, you know. But the recent incline in support for the "movement" has obviously crawled under my skin (and got me fuming at the fingertips!)

I know it’s not a matter of which group’s complaining is more justified. That’s a dumb game. Quebec separatists argue that they have a "distinct culture" which cannot be understood or embraced by any English-speaking Canadian. Thus, they see separation as the only feasible solution to their situation; complete autonomy from the rest of us, to erase a couple centuries of perceived bad blood. Conversely, Albertan separatists argue that too much interference by the federal government has resulted in a huge money siphon from the bountiful plains to the filthy pits of Eastern Canada, where the money is then converted into banquet dinners and a big "fuck you" to the ROC.

Both myths, although based on fragments of truth and factoid, are bogus. They are bogus for reasons which have been enunciated elsewhere ad nauseam. And that is a good thing, for I would be ill-equipped to attempt to do so here again.

But getting back to my original target - separatist scumbags - and why I really, really hate them.

Even though there’s been a surge in this revolting sentiment as of late, I can remember when I saw my very first Alberta Separatist gathering. It happened in Red Deer (circa 2001) when a couple hundred nice young men decided to assemble in the spirit of tearing their country asunder. They were beautifully adorned in black leather swastika garb, and they chanted nifty little jingles that could only lead one to believe that the proposed "Republic of Alberta" would be as diverse and welcoming as its predecessor, with room for people of all shades and colors, from alabaster to albino. I’m telling you, this crowd of overweight, racist pricks really sold the message for me. And I have them to thank that I will forever make the association in my mind, for the rest of my life.

"But Senator, just because you support the wretched notion of Alberta separatism doesn’t mean you’re a racist."

No, it doesn’t. It means you are ready to align yourself with racists to validate some stupid idea you picked up from reading the Calgary Sun. It means that you’re ready to take reactionary steps against the State to which you are subject. It means, you’re prepared to stand against me, as a traitor who doesn’t deserve to take another breath in this country!

Well bring it on!

Resurection

2005-08-03T08:19:00.000-06:00

I’m back in the sphere after a five day hiatus. I spent most of the weekend sweltering away in my girlfriend’s living room, drinking beer in my undershirt and eating peanuts. Class. It hadn’t been my preference to take the blogging sabbatical anyway, but my boss returns to work today and there was plenty that needed a doin’ before the inevitable. She's been gone for about a month. I pray that I did everything that I was supposed to do. I pray I pray I pray. As a matter of fact, perhaps it would be best if we all bowed our heads in a couple of seconds of lamentation.

GOD GRANT ME
THE SERENITY TO ACCEPT
THE THINGS I CANNOT CHANGE,
COURAGE
TO CHANGE THE THINGS I CAN,
AND WISDOM ALWAYS
TO TELL THE
DIFFERENCE.

Amen

The Sofa King No More

2005-07-27T15:39:00.000-06:00

At first I wasn't sure how I felt about the new look of the Daily Show. Then I was made aware of this campaign to bring back the couch. A worthy endeavor for sooth.

But after some careful soul-searching I think I have to agree with my homeboys over at the Doucheblog and the folks over at this counter-campaign.

But then again, I think we've all lost our minds!

A Very Saturated Sidebar

2005-07-27T11:45:00.000-06:00

It’s been a long time coming, but I am now a Liblogger!

I hope that none of my faithfuls are overly disappointed with this mutation, and I can assure them that I don’t plan to change my angle because of it. Rather, as always, the Catalytic Corral will continue on with its usual pink-necked overtures, rarely stopping to consider the wider implications. If all goes as planned, the only difference anyone should notice is an increase in traffic and maybe the occasional visitor with some encouraging words for my liberal ass!

A couple of other things worth some consideration:

I don’t really keep up on the official Liberal Party talking pieces, so I reckon I am poorly positioned to be spouting them.

Also, although I am a liberal from Alberta (and a member of the federal party,) I am not a member of the Alberta Liberal Party. I am actually a member of the Progressive Conservative Association of Alberta, and to my knowledge, the only active Albertan in both outfits (much to the dismay of my friends and colleagues on both sides of the divide.) Reconcile this paradox however you see fit. I am what I am, among other things...

Hurt

2005-07-26T14:46:00.000-06:00

I was scrolling through some of my faves when I came across this. Like I told my buddy Aaron, this video makes me tear up everytime I see it.

You're the man, Johnny.

And As We Wind On Down the Road...

2005-07-25T10:56:00.000-06:00

It’s been five years since the passing of my friend and colleague Jason Eli Curtis Hurd, and although it doesn’t seem like it’s been all that long, I suppose that’s how it generally tends to be with such things.

Just as in previous years, my friends and I made a rendezvous out at Cochrane Ranch (the central park of the small country suburb where Jason began his short life) to pay our respects, and to remember how it was. This year, however, we had the added bonus of being chauffeured in a limousine, which, regardless of the situation, is a considerably enjoyable upgrade to the exhausted traveler's arsenal. I’m sure that Jason would have been proud to see us all packed into that limo, beers in hand and Led Zeplin a-blaring!

The ceremony out at the Ranch was the traditional hap-hazard affair that has become the custom on July 24 (which, I’m sure is how Jason would’ve wanted it to be.) Plenty of beers and a couple of tears and a ceremonial bouquet of wild flowers to float down the quiet stream that partitions the Ranch into East and West parts. We did a little touching-up of the bridge that stands in his memory (a crude carving denotes this,) and there was even suggestion of raising some funds to redo the bridge completely, (probably not for next year, but maybe the year after.)

Jason’s death had a profound effect on me. My cousin and I had been among the last people to speak with him on the day before his tragic last. We returned home on the Sunday to find out that he was gone. Overdosed on life. It was the first and only time I have been called to act as a pallbearer, and it was the last time I ever cried through the night.

It always feels good though, to head out to Cochrane in late July, to mourn, and to remember the way it used to be. However, I have found that as the years have passed, the journey out there has become less and less painful, and more about visiting old friends, whom I see only once a year, at Cochrane Ranch.

Wild Rose Roundup!

2005-07-20T18:01:00.000-06:00

Here it is folks; the long-awaited July edition of the Wild Rose Roundup!

It took me a little while to read through the last three weeks of 60 blogs, but I’m sure that I am the better for having done it. I feel so much closer to each and every one of you (queue cheesy sentimental music,) and I’m so glad that I get to share a spot on such a prestigious blogroll, yada yada yada... As per usual, sarcastic comments have been applied throughout. I did my best to pick-out posts that really highlighted the "inner wit" and "stylistic character" of each blogger. Essentially, it’s the best (obviously in my opinion) that everyone has produced hereunto, in these doldrums days of summer. Enjoy!

On the Spiritual Side

8-Track Mind, recovering from a bug he picked up at the local "Bi-Mon-Sci-Fi-Con," comes home to a sweltering domicile and a circus of fans. Pastor Kevin is attending a slightly different kind of convention. Kim at Our Thoughts ponders the effects of the "information superhighway" on the moral-fabric of our society. Stupid Angry Canajun makes an unsuspected spontaneous religious conversion. And the Rambling Priezt offers us a Four-fold Franciscan Blessing. Amen indeed.

Summer Fun & Stampeding Stories

Rantastic Tamara finally gets a chance to meet Steve. By the way Tamara, thanks for skipping me in your Roundup. It was the porno reference, wasn’t it?;) But I digress... The always prolific Daveberta makes an historic trip into Cowtown to do some Stampeding. Lectio, a blogger who works in the hellfire pits of Gehenna, also has some Stampeding fun... daemon style. BumfOnline manages to tie Welsh poetry in with his racy depiction of the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth! According to him (and I’m committed to disagree,) western apparel really "does the trick," so to speak.

Canuckity Claims

Nick’s Café Canadien actually has a post with only one Harry Potter reference! I’m sure it’s a mistake. The Cannuckistan Chronicles does some speculation on the true inducements of Liberals calling for the end of Stephen Harper. Most of July, he’s been taking aim at Rabble.ca. You can check out some of the action here, here, here, and here. (After a careful read, I’ve deduced that he doesn’t like liberals all that much.) The Burkeancanuck calls for a slightly larger box for him and his conservative buddies. He goes on to discourse the virtues of Enoch Powell (whoever he the might have been,) and Modern Day Canada’s penchant for "Rousseauean Modernist-Secularist Liberalism."Canadian Perasma, one of the newest additions to the Blogging Dippers’ regular infantry, does a neat post on "the Great Calgarian Divide," which should be of interest to all those who reside in Cowtown. He also has some thoughts on immigration, citizenship and refugee claims. Not sure how Enoch Powell would respond.

Hacks With an Axe and Zelda Attacks!

In light of the recent transpirings in London, Laurie Hawn talks about Anne McLellan (cordially I might add,) and some of the contents of her portfolio. The Calgary Grit rinses Link Byfield off with a little shit bath, which prompts a steady stream of comments from others who think that Link should just "do us a favor." Muck Shoveler picks up on the fun and does a couple of posts on it. The Rebel Albertan has run off to get hitched! But not before commenting on Link "the Dink" Byfield and his all his brouhaha. Also, Harlem Spanish over at Cosby Sweater, finds the time to toss a thought or two into the fray, even though he’s feeling the burn in his attempts to write his book. (Believe me, if it’s anything like writing one of these things, he has my sincerest sympathies.) Victor at What it Takes To Win obviously feels that "what it takes" is more, and more, and more Small Dead Animals. I'd say it looks like someone has a crush on Kate! And from Le Revue Gauche we get the kind of punditry that earns you this kind of acclaim. (I understand he just narrowly beat out The Cannuckistan Chronicles for the coveted title.)

The Animal Farm

Socialist Swine breaks down the top ten philosophers of all time. This guy isn’t one of them. Elephants With Wings has been experiencing some technical difficulties as of late. Prior to the troubles, she was just slightly pre-occupied with feelings of day-to-day fear & loathing. This, from Critter Musings, deserves way more than three comments, and one way or another, I’m glad that Dust my Broom agrees. All you Blogging Dippers out there, time to earn your stripes!

Activities that require a helmet. Or maybe even a toque?

Despite some suspicions, Andrew of the Alberta Propagandists hasn’t been murdered by gypsies or dwarves in pirate costumes. Rather, he decided to go on a vacation back in June, and no one has spotted him since. Thus leaving the lovely Kerilyn to propagate the "great game we affectionately refer to as Canadian Football." M. K. Braaten has sports on his mind, (even if he has firewalls in his eyes.) Revolutionary Moderation reports on Canada’s achievements on the Cricket Front. And Little Man in a Toque, who just found out that his name has a "double-tongue," is learning more and more about Canadian sports everyday.

Yankee Politics

Points of Information sees pork barrels a-rollin’ across the amber waves of grain. The Murgatroydblog shares this insightful little letter from a disillusioned Californian. Political Cycles serves up some insight into the Karl Rove affair. And The Black Kettle is rejoicing over this (I presume.)

Worthy of Praise

Civitanesis (who did a spectacular job on the last Roundup,) does a spectacular job summarizing Ralph Klein’s real stand on SSM. Civ’s getting the heck out of Dodge for a while, leaving his associates Tom Cerber and Candace X to fill the conservative void he leaves in his absence. Aaron at Grandinite makes some clutch comments re: the role and purpose of blogs. This is fitting, as Aaron is fast-becoming a blogculture icon in his own right. Not to mention that he is the Godfather of Albertablogs and the initiator of the Wild Rose Roundup. (Considering this, it’s amazing I’m still capable of speaking good words about him.) And also, one of Albertablogs’ hottest new acquisitions, St. Kev of the Pintday Brotherhood, wants to know when he’s going to get his iPod Shuffler. And so do I! (TD customer since ‘96 after my CIBC branch was robbed.... by the manager!)

Probing Pop-Culture

The Doucheblog does a multi-day synopsis of the Jon Stewart interview with Bernard Goldberg. Starting here, resulting in this, which percolated into this, which culminated in this. Matt, a.k.a. Jerry Aldini links to an interesting article from the New York Times, tell ‘ya what!

A Taste of the Unusual

Cloud of Idiot Gas, a freshly minted Albertablogger which recently inspired me to read up on the Darwin Awards for about five hours, is "up in smoke" over the newest craze. Colby Cosh (who’s one of the few Albertabloggers that can claim to compete with my level of traffic,) contributes to the list of attractions worth visiting to honor Alberta’s Centennial. If you’re going to check these out, leave the hallucinogenic suckers at home - paranoia comes natural ‘round these parts.

On a More Somber Note

The time-honored Bow Valley Blog has recently been forced to confront some big-town issues, like violence and misguided allocation of public revenues. Essential Ideas takes on some heavy matter with back-to-back posts on Live8 and the London Bombings. Impetus Java House follows a similar pattern of depressing posts. Noise from the Right (who hasn’t been all that noisy throughout the month of July,) offers us some remarks about the London attacks as well as his sincerest condolences to the Cadman Family. Phendrana Drifts also pays his respects.

Friggin’ Hippies!

Going Green in Alberta has made it a point to clear up some popular misconceptions regarding his Party. Dope, Kyoto, you name it! Herbinator does much of the same. Ian’s Messy Desk lets me know that I’m still doing better than most of my North-American brethren when it comes to "living green."

Filling the Gaps Inbetween with a little Poetic Expression

Hanger 19 tells it like it is. And in-so-doing, he proves once and for all that a picture is worth a thousand words. Candace from Planet X proposes an innovative solution to Canada’s military funding short-falls. On the Campaign Trail makes a campaign promise to "reach out." The Idealistic Pragmatist reacts to the emerging atmosphere of chagrin. Robbie from A Distant Star makes his traverse across the Rock. The Calgary Observer gives us some insight into the plight of a fellow translator and gives us the scoop on Canada’s never-ending airliner saga. The Simian Farmer has some parenting inspired haikus to share.

And last, but certainly not least, The Catalytic Corral, like always, has little to contribute in terms of the prevailing issues of the day. Instead, this pompous, pompous ass has the audacity to subject people to his ridiculous attempt at poetry. What a jerk!

Full-on Robot Chubby!

2005-07-19T23:57:00.000-06:00

Unbeknownst to most, July 19th was the fourteenth anniversary of the theatrical release of the most excellent movie of all time! Despite of all of this.

Party On Dude!

(Oh wait, that was Wayne's World...)

A Poem for Jack

2005-07-19T09:53:00.000-06:00

If Jack Layton were King,
I’ll tell you one thing,
We wouldn’t have grievance or grumbles to bring,
A thirty-hour week,
His party would seek,
Oh how the people would sing!

If the Pinks were in power,
In the Parliament tower,
They’d eradicate landfills and gasses a-sour,
Suzuki’d be tickled,
Ralph Klein would be pickled,
Big business would flee by the hour!

If the Dippers were crowned,
The future’d be sound,
No fiscal imbalance or malice be found,
Instead we’d have hope,
Cause we’d all be on dope,
Bong-hit prescriptions all-round!

Oh New Democrat glory,
Yes that is the story,
They’ll teach to the children of Liberals and Tories,
And one day they’ll vote,
On a socialist note,
Then the right-wing will be sorry!

If Jack Layton were King,
And the Lord of the Ring,
He’d make time for Bono and Meatloaf and Sting,
The occasional scandal,
I'm sure they could handle,
So long as Jack Layton were King!

Clairvoyant Bootleggers and Blazoned Booms

2005-07-18T10:47:00.000-06:00

Since I am in full-scale withdrawal from my favorite HBO series, I have been renting and purchasing as many Mafioso movies as humanly possible. Most of them are very "B," and they typically star some washed-up gavones who played supporting roles in some classic mob movie or another. Unfortunately, this practice of indiscriminately acquiring shitty movies based upon their attempts at one of the greatest genres of all-time has left me vulnerable to some real crap, including one gem entitled "Whacked," which featured a murderous mob diva played by the elegant Carmen Electra (how the Academy overlooked this one I will never know.)

But, I have managed to come up with a couple of good ones that I hadn’t yet seen, or hadn’t seen in a while. The first was a 1981 De Niro classic called "Once Upon a Time in America." Although it had its moments, I think it ran a little bit too long (almost four hours.) Then again, I heard it was in production for almost ten years, so I suppose the extended running length is understandable. Joe Pesci’s character didn’t get nearly enough lines, or depth, or screen time, which was a major downfall. But all-round, I would give this movie 3 Sfogliatelle out of 5.

Last night though, I popped in the 1990s critically acclaimed, all-star cast supported "The Untouchables." Good movie, and Kevin Costner’s a hunk, but there was a major hiccup that occurred about half-an-hour into the flick that I found impossible to completely overcome. It happened right after Elliot Ness (played by Costner,) is dispatched to Chicago:

Ness quickly organizes an assault on a suspected Canadian bootlegging operation with ties to Capone. He warns his deputies to watch for "crates labeled with a red maple leaf symbol on them!" A moment of pride for any gangster film nut-of-the-North, indeed. However, the movie is set in 1930, the Maple Leaf (at least the kind drawn on the boxes) wasn’t conceived until the early 1960s! A serious anachronism if there ever was one.

Since I was sure that I couldn’t have been the first to spot this, I did a Google search to find out just how observant people really are about these types of goofs. Apparently, the whole movie is one long continuity error. See here. But nevertheless, it’s still worthy of 3 and ½ Sfogliatelle out of five. Or otherwise: mobtastical!

Hopefully I will be able to continue to find decent mafia movies to carry me through the rest of the summer. But, like they say: "Col tempo la folglia di gelso diventa seta!"

This is Amazing.

2005-07-15T16:25:00.000-06:00

This is going to completely revolutionize the way we think about chicks in bikinis plummeting through an infinite void of pillowy orbs.

Eating Like a King (on the diet of a throne-sniffer.)

2005-07-12T15:55:00.000-06:00

My veins course with pure pancake mix, my body is mostly composed of breakfast sausage, and I’m peeing straight Tang; Stampede season is at its acme!

I checked out the Ralph Goodale Stampede breaky on Saturday. It was there that the Hon. Belinda Stronarch had the opportunity to finally meet me. Although she was a little star-struck at first, we actually managed to get a conversation going about the role of young people in politics and the last political convention she attended (where she advocated - unsuccessfully - for the creation of a youth wing in the CPC.) For a full summary of the morning's highlights read the Calgary Grit and Gopolitical.

Then, yesterday it was off to the Ralph Klein Stampede breakfast at the McDougall Centre (and yes, I’m probably the only one to have made it to both "Ralph" breakfasts.) It was the traditional scene of semi-partisan gladhanding (all the city’s politicians are usually there regardless of their political stripe,) and unlike last year’s fanfare (when the premier announced the Province’s new "debt-free" status,) there was no big speech to go along with my scrambled eggs. What a pity.

Today I stepped out to grab a bite of heavenly grub courtesy of the Remax office next-door. I’m so full of Stampede food now, I have refried beans coming out of my nose.

Eat My Dust Lyle Oberg

2005-07-07T15:01:00.000-06:00

I was just over at my German friends’ house, doing the yard upkeep as I do while they are out of continent, when all of a sudden I heard a thunderous bang! I immediately dropped my beer and made haste to the scene.

There I saw the results of a rear-end collision between a brand-new, purple TJ Sport Jeep and a Calgary Transit Bus. From what I could tell, the bus had slowed down to drop-off some passengers without the Jeep realizing it. I never heard any breaks, just the sound of her Jeep slamming into the back of the bus at we’ll say.. 60 clicks. Although surprisingly enough, the bus seemed unscathed; the Jeep, however, was a different story. The hood of it was now an extension of the dashboard, the car-horn was stuck on (which turned out to be a useful attention grabber,) and fluid spewed from the engine and radiator, forming a sludgy green lake along the curbside.

Fearing for my life (having seen far too many movies to know that vehicles almost always explode upon impact or shortly thereafter,) I remained on the opposite curb, and allowed the heroic and mechanically inclined bus passengers to assist the young Jeepist from her air-bag-entangled wreckage. I did, however, manage to find a way to positively contribute to the situation, by directing the oncoming traffic through the one remaining lane until the emergency response arrived.

You should have seen it; I was amazing! I was confident, authoritative, and animated (which are all important assets to have in an emergency situation, because the last thing you need is some uncertain "pussy-man" controlling the show.) And, the first responding officer was so thankful of my contribution she even wanted me to stick around so that they could get my name and recommend me for some kind of medal of distinction or whatever, but I refused. You see, I’m a very modest person; I’m not very good a receiving praise, and I never toot my own horn. Hell, that’s probably one of my best qualities, but I digress...

It all happened down on Northmount Drive, which is a small, two-lane, urban, residential street that does more than its fair-share to move traffic East-West across North-Central Calgary. It spans almost 40 city blocks, and adjoins to 13 city schools. It can be a treacherously slow crawl at some hours of the day, especially when school-buses line the margins as they wait for their cargo.

As for the girl in the Jeep, she’ll be ok I reckon. A little whiplash maybe, to go along with the sorrow over her undoubtably written-off Jeep. She’ll be without the option of suing Calgary Transit; at least, I’ve never heard of anyone successfully doing so.

But, I can tell you one thing she can thank God about. She can thank God that it was a regular bus, with regular grown-up adults on it. Because, had it been one of those other buses, you know, the ones that carry children to-and-from school, she’d be fucked! And I don’t use the term lightly. Fucked!

Although I am not an expert in the insurance business, I’m pretty confident she’d be facing a torrential shit-storm by now (since I’ve already dropped the F-bomb, twice, I figure everything goes.) Furthermore, I suspect those children would have been just a little slower to her aide than the burly Samaritans who rescued her today. Just a little. I would have still directed the traffic, so no difference there. But she’d be fucked.

Broken Heart over Busted Kneecaps

2005-07-05T11:07:00.000-06:00

I’ve only got one more episode to watch in season five of Sopranos. This makes me very sad, because I know I am going to have to wait a very long time until I get to watch another new one.

Or I guess I will just have to buy HBO.

Making up for Mukwah

2005-07-03T11:59:00.000-06:00

I couldn’t have imagined a better place to spend Canada Day then out in the wilderness of Canmore AB. There, along the banks of the mighty Bow, my friends and I were made privy to a three-band show and a festival atmosphere courtesy of Lord Reuben upon Skitownville. Hundreds attended this musical celebration of our beloved country’s 138th, and even more got to experience it through the echoing decibels that penetrated the awkward calm of the serene mountain valley. It was truly magical.

The first big event of the evening came when about twenty people showed up to the party in their canoes; they had paddled there from Banff (about two hours upstream.) This was big for me, as I rarely travel by this mode, and I had just recently highlighted a certain text which explicitly decreed us to be “a nation of canoeists.” Yes, I suppose one could say that these drunken rowdies managed to inspire and vindicate me, simultaneously.

The first band took to the stage at about 9 o’clock, and rocked-out with a seriously powerful set. So powerful in fact, that they caught the attention of the RCMP who’d been monitoring the action downtown (about three blocks away.) Once they arrived on scene, some cunning and/or patriotic young soul began to sing ‘Oh Canada,’ and others quickly followed suit. Before you could say “In All Thy Sons Command,” more than 150 people were standing in full attention, and singing like their lives depended on it. And I guess that satisfied the cops about as much as it satisfied me, ‘cause we didn’t see them again until after midnight when the death-metal band came on to close the show.

All in all it was a spectacular event, and I’m told that no-less-than 11 garbage bags full of smashed and stepped-on beer cans were collected off the grounds. Somehow though, despite the apparent volume of happiness-in-a-can that was consumed, I managed to wake up in a pretty darn good mood.

A birthday bash to remember for sooth!

A Toast to the Blog Post With the Best Guest Host.

2005-06-30T17:07:00.000-06:00

In honour of the High Holliday, I thought it might be appropriate to do a little transcribing.

So, if you're feeling truly patriotic this season, then by all means, read straight through; You will be the better Canuck for it. But, if you're feeling a little pressed for time, or you just don't feel like spending your weekend reading the words of the most influential writer-historian in all of Canadian history, then I won't hold that against you. Instead, read this.

For the rest of you (and for those who've been inspired to go on,) I present to you, Pierre Berton, from the final chapter of Why We Act Like Canadians (1982.) Enjoy!

"We are coming to the end of this long screed, Sam. I had thought at the outset that I could distill the essence of my country into a few pithy paragraphs. That has not been possible, as you have perhaps come to realize, for the differences between us are both subtle and complex. That is why Canadians are often tongue-tied when asked to explain, in a sentence or two, how we differ. We know we’re not the same but we can’t express it succinctly; I doubt if anybody can. Then too, we are a taciturn lot, being northerners. It embraces us, I think, to love our country out loud. Yet it may well be that love of country is what really holds us together.

"For we are learning to love it perhaps because for the first time we see its future threatened. The prospect of divorce has made our bones rattle, and now we are forced to ask ourselves: do we really want to lose what we have built?

"Our love affair with Canada has been long and slow, never a sudden infatuation. We are a wilderness nation; it has not been easy to come to terms with a harsh environment. Geography has been our enemy more often than it has been our friend. As Margaret Atwood, one of our best poets and critics, has explained, our literature has been obsessed with the problem of survival.

"But love at first sight is a slick short story writer’s myth and, as I have tried to show, we are not romantics. Sudden romances have a habit of burning out. So we have come to turns with the tensions that obsess us, slowly and cautiously in the Canadian fashion. I think we are beginning to understand that these tensions will not go away, that we must learn to live with them, adapt to them and survive them, as we have survived our appalling geography. This is part of being Canadian.

"It has occurred to me recently, that in spite of our propensity for general disagreement, we are now for the first time beginning to see our country whole, in a physical sense. For decades we were like blind men, familiar with only one part of the elephant. Just as in the days of the railway only a handful could explore the West, so in the days before the automobile and the airplane only a handful could explore the Cabot Trail or the Malahat. Just as our painters electrified the country in the 1920s by showing for the first time the glory of the Canadian Shield and the Canadian north, so in our own time have we begun to sense the beauty and the mystique of the land through television.

"You had the movies, Sam, to show off your country. New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, St. Louis, San Francisco were all glamorized by Hollywood. But nobody in Vancouver ever saw Toronto or Halifax on screens of the twenties, thirties or forties. Your history and geography, often mythologized and prettified, were made familiar to millions by hundreds of major films. But no Hollywood movie ever showed our prairies. North West Mounted Police was shot in California; Saskatchewan was made in the Rockies. The majority of Canadians in those years were more familiar with the bayous of Louisiana, the blue grass of Kentucky, the hill country of Tennessee and the Arizona desert than they were with the Bay of Fundy’s tidal bore, the red roads of Prince Edward Island or the fiords of British Columbia.

"That has changed. Even as we threaten to fly apart, the love of the land holds us together. It is our land, Sam, nobody else’s; and, as we are beginning to realize, it is like no other. I should like to show it to you, in all its beauty and all its terror, but that would take a lifetime. Perhaps, though, we can make a swift tour by air, hitting a few of the high spots that, I am certain, are unknown to you and only know becoming know to my own people.

"Let us begin by hovering over that vast natural trough we call the Rocky Mountain Trench, the most continuous gap in the continent that stretches north-west from the British Columbian border, eleven hundred miles into the Yukon. Five great rivers and now a man-made lake lie on its floor, but we cannot linger here for, as we reach the Yukon border, the limestone canyons, hot springs and waterfalls of the Nahanni country beckon. Here is a mile-deep gorge and a cataract twice as high as Niagra and, to the east, beyond the Mackenzie mountains, two great freshwater seas, the largest lakes in the world, one of them, Great Bear, so cold that plankton cannot live in its waters.

"North now to the Arctic’s rim and the delta of the Mackenzie River, an immense natural sponge, six thousand square miles of it, punctured by a million ponds and veined by a network of muddy, wriggling channels. There seems no end to this watery labyrinth, stretching off into a haze of the horizon, glinting upwards in the summer midnight like a gigantic broken mirror. But we must leave it and swoop south and east across the vast cold desert we call the Barren Ground.

"There it is below us, the treeless tundra, majestic in its monotony. Here lies the evidence of the last great ice sheet that smothered half a continent: prodigious rocks, house-size, bulldozed hundreds of miles by the advancing glaciers; long drumlin lines - the clawmarks of the monster; snakelike ridges known as eskers, the remains of rivers flowing beneath a mile-thick wall of ice. The musk-oxen scamper in tight groups across the shattered rocks of a moraine directly below; the caribou ebb and flow in dark currents. Beautiful haunting country, Sam - and deadly. Not far from those white sand beaches in Thelon country - whiter than the beaches of Waikiki - men have died by inches of hunger.

"We have reached Fort Churchill, Canada’s farthest north grain port on the bleak margin of Hudson Bay, the great continental sea that acts as the country’s thermostat. It is June. Below us the pack ice is breaking up, the sun catching the gleam of black water showing through the slushy channels. The Canadian spring is creeping north.

"We have come more than a thousand miles from the Mackenzie Delta and now we must fly another thousand miles northeast toward Baffin, the greatest of our islands, the fourth-largest in the world, twice the size of New Zealand. Here is formidable land of jagged blue mountains, long swirling glaciers and fingers of frozen ocean. On this one island, there are sixteen thousand miles of crinkled coastline, including the longest fiord in the world, Admiralty Inlet. There it is, the cliffs rising a thousand feet sheer from the sea, the island’s back-bone mantled by the Barnes ice cap, a relic of the Pleistocene Age, still a quarter of a mile thick.

"We are turning south, toward home. The low, withered tip of the island is below us, the surface like freshly stirred porridge, as we head out across Hudson Strait, that deep ocean trough gouged out by a mile-thick river of ice, squeezing out of Hudson Bay. Ottawa is yet twelve hundred miles due south.

"We cross the mouth of Ungava Bay. Just below us we can see the thousand-foot cliffs of Akpotak Island rising out of the sea, a dark triangle, thirty miles long, unreachable by any human because its edges are perpendicular with the ocean. Beyond lies the world’s largest crater, created four thousand years ago by a meteor that gouged out ten billion tons of rock in a blast that makes the Hiroshima explosion seem like a firecracker.

"Now we are crossing the interior Labrador plateau, with the Torngat Mountains on our left, which the Eskimos call "evil spirits." They are not really mountains but prodigious folds of rock, boiling out of the ocean, horn-shaped or saw-toothed. I have described the Labrador interior elsewhere as "an unearthly world, half fairyland, half purgatory" - a phrase that might easily cover most of the uninhabited country we have encountered. This is a land of boiling rivers, harsh canyons, camel-backed mountains and cliffs that seem to have been split in twain by a gigantic cleaver. But now, with the arches forming a green mist in the valleys and a thousand waterfalls dropping in lacy cascades from the granite scarps, the face of Labrador smiles. The soil below us glimmers redly, for much of this land is pure rust, holding a trove of iron treasure now being gouged out and transported to the sea by the most spectacular of all railways - the Iron Ore Express that knifes and bores its way through the natural bastion of the Laurentian Scarp.

"The Gulf of St. Lawrence lies ahead and, to the west, the mouth of the long water highway that leads the heart of the continent and has, as its continuation, the lakes and the horizontal rivers that lead across the prairies and trickle through the mountain passes to give Canada its shape and its reason for being. For we are a nation of canoeists, and have been since the earliest days, paddling our way up the St. Lawrence, across the lakes, over the portages of the Shield, west along the North Saskatchewan through the Yellowhead gap and thence southwest by the Columbia and the Fraser rivers to the sea. When somebody asks you how Canada could exist as a horizontal country with its plains and mountains running vertically, tell them about the paddlers, Sam.

"Three things will have struck you in the course of this semi-circular tour of the Canadian wilderness: vast distances, colossal size and, above all, the absence of human beings and human scale. Dwarfed by nature, we Canadians have every reason to feel like lesser creatures in a Brobdingnagian world. Few have seen the cliffs of Baffin or the eskers of the tundra but all live cheek by jowl with the wilderness; and all of us, I think, feel the empty and awesome presence of the North. If we are not as cocky as we might wish to be, if we are more sober than those who live by placid, sunlight waters, it is partly because of an uncanny environment that beckons even as it repels, seductive in its beauty, fearsome in its splendour.

"So we have come to the end of our journey, Sam, and I hope now, when you visit my country, there will be fewer questions to ask about this queer, complicated nation. If I have been sweeping in my generalizations, I apologize; you are right when you say that all Canadians are not as sober, austere or chilly as I have made out. I believe these to be national characteristics but there are numberless exceptions; and, as our ethnic make-up changes, as our cities grow larger and our small towns diminish, as our ancestral memories recede, we, too, will metamorphize. It’s happened in my own time.

"Can I make you understand, even as I poke mild fun at certain of our national characteristics that, in bulk, I accept them and even applaud them? When I compare our two peoples I do not intend to make invidious comparisons, only to demonstrate that, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse, we have our own distinct identity and our own way of doing things and that part of identity is our tendency to constant self-examination.

"This is not the first time I’ve compared our differing characters. On occasion I venture across the border to attempt that task, often, I fear, with indifferent results. It’s not easy to explain to you Americans that we’re not only different but that we also like being different and that that implies no disrespect for you.

"I once laid out some of these theories in a speech to an audience in upstate New York, at the end of which a dear old lady came forward, took me by the arm and, with a fervency that was disarming, made me realize that nothing I had said had made much impact.

"‘But we love you Canadians,’ she said in a hurt voice. ‘We just love you!’ - as if that made everything all right.

But you see, old friend, it’s not your love we want; it’s your understanding. And that, I guess, we can never have until we understand ourselves."

Born in 1920 and raised in Yukon Territory, Pierre Berton worked in Klondike mining camps during his university years. He spent four years in the army, rising from private to captain/instructor at the Royal Military College in Kingston. He spent his early newspaper career in Vancouver, where at 21 he was the youngest city editor on any Canadian daily. He moved to Toronto in 1947, and at the age of 31 was named managing editor of Maclean's. In 1957 he became a key member of the CBC's public affairs flagship program, Close-Up, and a permanent panelist on Front Page Challenge. He joined The Toronto Star as associate editor and columnist in 1958, leaving in 1962 to commence The Pierre Berton Show, which ran until 1973. Since then, he has appeared as host and writer on My Country, The Great Debate, Heritage Theatre, and The Secret of My Success. Mr. Berton passed away in Toronto on November 30, 2004. A great Canadian if there ever was one.

Millennial Milestones!

2005-06-28T17:39:00.000-06:00

Sound the noisemakers and make way for the sweetmeats; confetti’s in the air with the Catalytic Corral celebrating its 1000th hit. Bravo!

Of course, I should add as a caveat that at least 400 of those hits were non-other-than yours truly, checking up on myself or whathaveyou. Nevertheless, I rejoice with the knowledge that this blog has arrived at this very special marker. And also, I am glad to see that it hasn’t resulted in the undoing of the Universe (as many predicted it would.)

Thus, to mark this monumental occasion, I thought I would do something incredibly brave. And, after giving it some careful thought, I have decided to reveal my true identity.

What’s that?

"Big f***in’ deal!"

"I already knew who Senator Catalyst really was!"

"Who does this guy think he is?"

Well. As it happens, I will be the recipient of the proverbial "last laugh." Because, believe it or not, I am not the person you believe (or suppose) me to be. In fact, I am not even a person at all!

The truth is: I am a 10 year-old AQHA Sire (that is a kind of horse for all you city-slickers out there.) And I have been blogging from my home in Caroline Alberta all the while long. Yeah, surprising isn’t it? Turns out that I discovered my capacity for the written word one day while I was grazing along the highway near my owner’s ranch. Since then I have been keeping myself busy with this deceptive little hobby.

I know, you don’t believe me.

"How would his hooves even work around the keyboard?"

And truth-be-told, I don’t really blame you. I mean, I didn’t believe it myself at first. But as the posts kept coming, away went my disbelief. But if you refuse to take my word for it, try Googling "Senator Catalyst" and click on the "I’m feeling Lucky" bar. There I am. See, a horse. And not just any horse, but a champion breeder's son.

No wonder I have the talents I do!

And there you have it: the Senator "unmasked," if you will. Who’d a thunk it?

Probably Worth Complaining About

2005-06-27T15:55:00.000-06:00

Today I forgot to wear a tie to work. I also neglected to shave. Consequently I look like a goof.

Also, it looks like my beloved webcounter is busted or temporarily out of order, which is a real piss-off because I was getting close to 1000 hits. I even had plans to do a special post to mark the occasion. So, for everybody’s sake I hope the "Free Foot Counter" people get their acts together, because when I don’t pay a cent for something, I expect to get my no-money’s worth!

Please revert to my previous comments regarding Mondays.

And speaking of Mondays...

I usually get a lot of wacky emails at my office on Mondays. I think it’s because all the weirdos have had a full weekend to dream up and send out their bullshit. Some of it is from people who are trying to scam me (former bodyguard to the Sultan of Brunei seeking idiot North American to assist in the transfer of millions of dollars worth of embezzled funds, etc.) Some are simply trying to sell me something (improve the rigidity of your penis with Cialis!) Some espouse racist rhetoric but pretend to be legit, while others still make no sense at all (just random jumbles of words strung together in any old fashion.) These last ones would probably be my favorite if I didn’t already suspect that they were messages from another dimension warning us of the impending invasion of the Gytrolkian forces of Opselafrbyn 6.

But today I actually got something that I found to be interesting. It came to me from an organisation calling themselves the "Canadian Creed." It appears as though they were founded by a former Social Creditor named Albert Ludwig. Needless-to-say I will have to continue to do more research on the "Canadian Creed," but I must say that it did catch my eye, and it looks like something I could actually support.

Afternoon Anagrams

2005-06-23T16:52:00.000-06:00

My mother always told me that I should try to act my age. So today (and just for today,) I will.

Burried within the following word puzzles are the names of 15 “leading” parliamentarians. See if you can figure out which bozo corresponds to the appropriate jumble. Punctuation and hyphens don’t mean anything. Also, it is important to note that if I was able to squeeze the word “anal” out of their name – I did.

Hell-cry Anal Glt

Plum’n Atari

Levy it, Rona

Eros Brand

Regal Wrag-mut

Anal Jockyt

Motor’n Nymphos

Dwelt Sac Yolk

Hard Loop Gale

Ripe Oiler I Perve

Vejo Pole

Phosten Ween

Klag Cocer

Yo Jen Ne-ska

Heart n’ Sphere

Close But No Cigar!

2005-06-22T10:46:00.000-06:00

Last week, prolific blogger Mike Brock turned the conservative blogging world on its axis by composing a post that suggested it was time for Harper to hang up the skates. What ensued was a comment war that has not eased since; names were called, feelings were hurt, and boats were definitely sent a rockin’.

I was only slightly surprised by the responses from the right-winged diehards, who seemed completely shocked that anyone would call for the resignation of their beloved Pugnatious McNasty. Needless-to-say, myself and a couple of other randoms did give the due props up to Brock for his courageous carriage. But for the most part, it was plain punishment for Mr. Brock, which he received from the angry kookaburras formerly considered by him to be allies of Blogging Torydom.

In like fashion, Jason Cherniak is making waves this week. Of course, his call for vicissitude is directed toward the upper echelons of Liberal power. Unfortunately though, he falls staggeringly short of making the proclamation that needed to be made. Instead, he busts an uberlame cop-out, suggesting that it’s Martin’s staffers who need a rotation, but not the Prime Minister himself. And so, what could have been the post of a career was quickly converted into a wimpy call for Tim Murphey to step aside. Seriously Jason, who gives a shit about Tim Murphey?

Tim Murphey doesn’t deserve to be fired (Grewal or no Grewal.) It would be a useless replacement, and more about posturing than practicality. Nobody will ever be able to make Paul Martin seem cool, or competent for that matter. Paul Martin could win well over 200 seats in the next election and he’ll still appear the same power-hungry, grizzled old fart. Am I wrong?

Triumpant Restitution and Taboo Topics

2005-06-17T13:20:00.000-06:00

I’m back, and I’m feeling pretty spunk and spiffy despite the occasional hacking up of a phlegm nugget. Hallucinations are beginning to fade. Life is returning back to normal.

Today though, I thought I would take the opportunity to touch upon possibly the greatest delicacy of controversiality around: abortion. Well, not abortion itself, rather, the father of modern clinical abortive practice - Dr. Henry Morgentaler.

Although I have lots of family and even the odd friend who I'm sure wholeheartedly disagree, I applaud the University of Western Ontario’s decision to award Dr. Morgentaler with an Honorary Doctor of Laws Degree. It wasn’t such a bold move as some believe it was, it probably should have happened much sooner, and it probably should have been offered by a University in Quebec, but hey, we’ll take what we can get.

Like many, my thoughts on abortion are mixed. Maybe not 50-50, but I would certainly concede, at the very least, that it is an unpleasant topic of discourse, and a cause that I reluctantly endorse (as it has stigmatising effects and can lead to some rather divisive debate.) However, at the end of the day I am a Pro-Choicer. I respect the right for any and all to disagree with that stance, but I am resolved to stick by it.

I couldn’t always say that though. Also like many, I waited for years for someone or something to tell me how I should feel about it. That "something," for better of worse, came in the form of the CBC.

A couple of years ago, around this time in the year, I embarked on a bit of a field study on the life of Dr. Henry Morgentaler. My search inevitably lead me to the CBC Archives (which above and beyond Dr. Mo, offers an extensive body of material for the study of many Canadian figures ranging from Trudeau to Wayne Gretzy’s dad.) What I learned there changed my perspective forever, and I’m not ashamed to admit that (as much as some might think I should be.)

Among the material on that site, particularly compelling was one piece from 1974 entitled "The Man Behind the Story." It’s 20 minutes long, so unless you’ve got the time to put in, you could probably benefit more from one of the other audio-visuals. But if you do have the time and interest enough to watch the whole thing, I think you will agree that it is absolutely brilliant.

If, on the other hand, you hate Dr. Henry Morgentaler, his life’s work, and his legacy, watch it anyway dammit!

Re: S Court ruling on H. Care

2005-06-15T14:18:00.000-06:00

Matt,

Please forgive the lateness of my reply, but for the last couple of days I have been down with a full-on case of the heebie-jeebies. Even as I compose, I feel the uncomfortable sensation of a blemished hamburger lurching throughout my intestine. Gross, eh?

Nevertheless, in regards to the question above, I have to say that I am hardly the person to ask. On the board, there are both lawyers and doctors and probably the odd lawyer-doctor, I am neither. On the other hand, I am confused by the all the messages, the wordplay, and the politics. My legalese is about as good as my Deutsch (und mine Deutsch ist nichts so gut, aber ich canst eine bissien furstene!)

Perhaps I am just too young to fully understand the ramifications. Although I suppose I understand most of the broad strokes: waitlists, costs, universality, and provincial this-and-that. But I need more than that. I need complete omniscience.

To date, I've never really been really sick. But as you know, I have loved people who have become sick. My father, my brother, my cousins, my nephew, my uncle… Like most, my time in hospitals has been spent visiting my family and friends.

My cousin sometimes pays hundreds of dollars for prescriptions he can’t afford, but needs. My father’s illness would have broken us financially as well as emotionally had he not had the coverage he had. In terms of the health care debate though, I have not yet been able to contextualize the illness of my cousin, or the death of my father. I still cannot see how one’s misfortune or another’s demise can penetrate the greater argument over the delivery of health care. Perhaps one day I will.

Thus, I ask that you keep me posted; perhaps you can help me understand.

Sincerely,

Senator Catalyst

In a Fevered Pitch

2005-06-14T19:45:00.000-06:00

Apologies to my reader (as in singular,) for at the moment I am taking two Aspirins every four hours, as recommended. Also, I am taking a Centrum Fort twice a day, and consequently my urine has turned a sort of Macaroni and Cheese colour. I fear the hallucinations will soon set in. Look, I'm even ending my sentences in prepositions, out.

Apparently those last couple weeks of binge drinking and all-night festivities and not eating a home-cooked meal, really paid a toll on me.

Anywho. It is hoped that this self-prescribed, aggressive regiment of medication will provide enough simulated wholesomeness so as to render myself feeling improved in the morrow. Then, I shall be able to resurface in full-force with my pinknecked epilogues and related banterings.

But, check it out: I just got an official tax receipt in the mail from the Liberal Party of Canada!

Let this be a lesson to you kids: never drink alcohol or take drugs; they will make you do stupid things (like supporting the Liberal Party through fiduciary donations.)

Oh, and one other thing that’s kind-of funny. I was sifting through an old dirty magazine the other day (no, not the Western Standard, that’s just too filthy,) and I saw a funny thing in the opening pages. It was a two-page spread of the Stars & Stripes with the words "In memory of 911. We will never forget!" And I guess we have to ask ourselves: why not? I’m sure at least one person who perished in the Twin Towers on that fateful day was a bonafide fornicator (I’m a Canadian, so that statement is not nearly as sacriligious as it is just plain tasteless.) And once more, nothing is more American than pornography, right? Right?

Yep, here come the hallucinations.

Purgatory

2005-06-13T09:27:00.000-06:00

Alarm clock goes. What a bizarre dream.

Actually, the alarm clock has been going for the past hour. I just realise that it’s been going. Some damn fool has turned the volume down to a whisper. I’m going to be late.

I don’t really have time to shave, but thanks to the miracle of Mach 3, I have at least a chance.
One cut, two cut, three cut - four. My face spills crimson ‘pon the floor. I’m going to be late as hell!

No time for breakfast; no time to pack a lunch. I don ‘t even have time to grab the coffee tin. I’m screwed.

All I have time for is the thought of my boss’ disapproving face. That scowl; that grimace; it’s haunting to the bone. I’m supposed to be there at 8:30, but I never am. Instead, it’s understood that I actually show up at 9:00... in theory. In reality, I show up at 9:07, everyday. 37 minutes late, everyday. You see, I’m an asshole!

Here comes that face.

Decaf is what’s being served. But that’s not going to help me. I'm in Pergatory. I'm in Monday.

Tired of Reading?

2005-06-09T14:27:00.000-06:00

Because I know I am.

Thus, here are a couple of audio-visual links which I trust will make you tinkle your trousers in laughter!

This one I stole from the Calgary Grit, and it's guaranteed to take you back to a simpler time. No, not 1986, I mean three weeks ago when all anybody could talk about was Belinda the Brave, or Belinda the Beautiful, or Belinda the Back-stabbing Biotch, depending on you angle I suppose.

This one, however, is especially intended for all you hippies and jedi out there. These granola-eating dogooders have sunken to the corporate level, and now shamelessly promote their product using humor and pop-culture references: the deprevity! Oh well, I'm off to buy some organic plantains. May the Farm be with you...

Ban the Bloc!

2005-06-08T17:09:00.000-06:00

In light of all this talk about Giles Duceppe and his likely jump into the Provincial fray, I though I would take a moment to compose a short post that would adequately reflect the severity of my anglophonic disposition. I hope and predict that the pending nationalistic brouhaha will allow me to seriously offend those who support the Bloc Québécois and/or their Provincial counterparts, while simultaneously pandering to my base readership, who, like me, occupy that oft’ forgot demographic of Canada-loving, tobacco-chewing, politically-masochistic Albertacrats!

The other day, after a chat with an old friend who generally rides NDP, I was driven to do a little (and I mean a little) reading on the topic of separatist organisations operating right here in my beloved home country of Canada. For you see, my friend (a Monolingual from the sunny climes of Calgary) managed to launch me into a bit of a rage after suggesting that he might actually vote for the Bloc Québécois if he lived in Quebec.

"I like their economic policy" said he, without the slightest indication of shame or remorse.

"Really," I replied " and what good would any of it do for you, or anybody else for that matter?"

"Isn’t it the epitome of phantasmagoria? Isn’t it simply a shell of an economic policy that might be utilised to indicate what a Bloc budget could look like in the impossible event that they get their wish, which is to preside over a fake country?"

"I guess," was the response he delivered, all-of-a-sudden realising the incredible stupidity of his former remarks.

But I guess he had at least some element of a point. I mean, there are people in La Bell Provence that think like that. From what I’m told, they are people who don’t actually hate Canada, but think that the Bloc serves enough of a purpose as a regional advocate, or, they see in the Bloc an applicable alternative to the Liberals, and, in either case, they are - in-effect - coerced to cast their ballots in favor of the separatists! Thankfully I am not alone in feeling sorry for these people.

I was satiated by my triumph. But, the whole exchange kept with me throughout the day, and long after. And consequently I gots to thinking (which is always a bad sign.) How did the Bloc Québécois come to be?

I’m not specifically asking about the chronology of events leading up to the formation of the official party, that would be too easy.

No, I’m talking about the processes which enabled a group of traitorous zealots to take up office on Parliament Hill (still talking about the Bloc here, just in case you though I was descending into another rant all-together.) But seriously, how did the Canadian Government allow a precedent to develop which legitimized the existence of a separatist entity in the House of Commons? Because I think I must have missed something!

Realizing of course, that the veritable answer probably requires a much deeper and richer understanding of the history of Lower Canada, and indeed, the nature of the Quebec people, I will refine my question.

How is the existence of the Bloc even acceptable under our constitution? Moreover, doesn’t their disgusting dogma constitute some form of treason? And even if I’m wrong, and somehow the Bloquistes aren’t guilty of treason, ( probably on a stupid technicality that they aren’t actually in the army, but House of Commons,) I still can’t fully understand what gives them the right to sit on Parliamentary Committees so as to weigh-in on the daily operations of the Government! And how can anyone be accused of being in contempt of Parliament, when 54 members of Parliament have been elected based on their proven track records of contempt?

Really, I understand that they’ve been democratically elected to represent the peoples of their respective ridings, but I also recognize that there’s another, equally important value at stake here. I don’t think I need to spell out what that value is.

Quite frankly, I think a couple of court-marshallings are in order! Don’t we have that power? Isn’t that our prerogative?

New Kid on the (Alberta)Blog

2005-06-07T19:59:00.000-06:00

I finally succumbed to the temptation and joined the Albertablogs, and I have to tell you, it’s a nice fit! After all, I’m from Alberta, I live in Alberta, and almost all the other crap I read is of some variety, Albertan. Also, I felt that this would be a valuable links-list for all (ten) of my readers, but especially so for those with a particularly localised perspective on politics, society, and the universe at large!

Now all I have to do is figure-out how to get one of those clever little logos transplanted into my sidebar…

At any rate, it turns out that, as a condition of acceptance into the secret society aforementioned, I must put forth a considerable testimony as to why I think myself a worthy pledge.

So let's see...uh…um...?

Alright, I give up. But, I am from Alberta, which’s got to count for something in this crowd!

The Power of Prayer

2005-06-05T11:31:00.000-06:00

Senator: This week, I got a little spiritual enlightenment from my friend DW. We share a common allie in the Hon. Ryan Lake QC, MP-to-be, an old friend old of mine since junior college.
Take it away Deb!

Deb: (Thanks Senator for having me on your blog!)

Senator: Don't mention it Deb!

Deb: [Well,] this "not young" Alberta Liberal no longer prays to supernatural beings. However, I have been doing something akin to praying lately...

"Dear Cosmic Muffin - Please let the CONServatives fill every Canadian riding with obvious, right-wing, white-skinned, red-necked, religious fundamentalist nutjobs for the next election. And may each and every new CONServative candidate talk and talk and talk to the media about why he/she hates gays, lesbians, aboriginals, liberals, confident females, confident males, intellectuals, Mel Hurtig, David Suzuki, Pierre Trudeau's memory, Maude Barlow, Adrienne Clarkson, Jean Chretien, Paul Martin, gays, lesbians, teachers, professors, lawyers, African-Canadians, Muslim Canadians, Hindu Canadians, Sikh Canadians, Buddhist Canadians, gays, lesbians, agnostics, atheists, and anybody else who isn't just like THEM and just as dumb as THEY ARE!"

Amen.

Deb

Rememberance

2005-06-04T19:14:00.000-06:00

With iron-clad beasts, they rolled upon the dissidents and destroyed them! With steady guns and fearsome missiles, they next fired upon the innocents who had not played a part of the protest. They used their tanks, and other implements of warfare against their own children; they used lethal force to otherwise disprove the reality of their barbarism.

When it was all over, the Chinese government insisted that it had acted to end the “social chaos.” The world, unimpressed with the explanation, responded in shock. However, aside from affixing some minor trade sanctions upon the communist giant, little else, it seems, could have been done to punish the perpetrators of the atrocities of Tiananmen Square.

Those sanctions have long been lifted, although the ugliness of China lingers on. Torture, forced abortion and sterilization, tight controls over religious freedoms, the sale of executed prisoner’s organs, and extrajudicial killings, daily contribute to the patchwork of horror used to keep the Chinese people in order. While bottom-line savvy investors now begin to look toward the Red Dragon as a potential cash crop (with China now surpassing the USA in almost every category of consumption,) many, myself included, still feel that China is a bad seed, and that it is controlled by an oppressive outfit of thugs. Not my idea of a "good" trading partner, or, any kind of partner for that matter!

In late 2003, Amnesty International issued a report on China’s progress in the realm of human relations. This document summarized a number of Amnesty International's key human rights concerns on China, including:

The continued use of the death penalty during the ongoing “strike hard” campaign resulting in high numbers of executions, often after unfair or summary trials;

The continued use of “Re-education through Labor”, a system which allows for the detention of hundreds of thousands of individuals every year without charge or trial in contravention of international human rights standards;

The persistence of serious allegations of torture and ill-treatment within China's criminal justice system, including police stations, "Re-education through Labour" camps, and prisons;

Increasing arrests and detentions of Internet users or so-called “cyber-dissidents” in violation of their fundamental rights to freedom of expression and information;

An intensification in the crackdown on the human rights of the mainly Muslim Uighur community in the Xinjiang Uighur Autonomous Region under the guise of “anti-terrorism” measures;

Continued repression of the rights to freedom of expression and association in Tibet, including the ongoing imprisonment of scores of Buddhist monks and nuns as prisoners of conscience;

The ongoing crackdown on the Falun Gong spiritual movement and other so-called “heretical organizations”, leading to widespread reports of arbitrary detention, torture and deaths in custody;

Serious human rights violations in the context of the spread of HIV/AIDS in China, including reports of torture and ill-treatment of people with HIV/AIDS, and the arbitrary detention, harassment and intimidation of HIV/AIDS activists;

The plight of North Korean asylum seekers in China, who continue to face forced return to North Korea where they risk imprisonment, torture and even execution, together with the arbitrary detention of journalists and others attempting to raise awareness of their situation;

Recent attempts by the Hong Kong administration to introduce new legislation on “treason, sedition, secession and subversion” despite widespread public concern that this could be used to restrict fundamental human rights or the legitimate activities of civil society groups in Hong Kong.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sixteen years ago, the communist authority in China murdered thousands of their own people in cold blood. They murdered them in the streets, on live circuit for the whole world to watch, because those people believed, rightly, that that regime was a brutal one.

Tagged!

2005-06-03T01:38:00.000-06:00

It looks like that rapscallion Daveberta has pulled a fast one, and stuck me with the proverbial "tag."

I feel dirty. I feel… abused.

It probably doesn’t help that I’m not the most well read yokel in these parts. I mean, we’re talking about a guy who learned how to read by way of wrestling magazines!

But here goes.

# Of Books that I own:

Probably around 200 in my personal collection (at least ¾ of which I have had at least a chance to browse.) Textbooks, textbooks, and textbooks some more. Some I bought new, some I picked up at garage sales, cheep bins, whathaveyou. Lots of Strange Stories and Amazing Facts type books; lots of outdates political science and anthropology textbooks too. But then there’s the family collection. Maybe 1000, maybe 2000? Who knows?

Last Book Bought

*What Might Have Been: Imaginary History from Twelve Leading Historians edited and introduced by Andrew Roberts. This is a pivotal installment of what they are starting to call "what if" history. Conrad Black writes one of the twelve chapters. Thus, completing the circle of paranormality.

Last Book(s) I Read:

*The Five Temptations of a CEO by Ratrick M. Lencioni. This is pure Dickens for the executive class. I never thought I would catch myself reading a "how-to-succeed-in-business manual," but I have to admit, it got me.

*State of the West by Robert Roach. Not so much a book as a slick compilation of Stats-Canada info, projected through a unique "Western Lense." This book, although impressive in its layout, opts for an unsettling methodology of compiling statistics on the Western provinces of Canada in a "The West" vs. ROC format. Yikes! In my experience, ROC was always a term that was used in light of the existence of certain distinct societies, whose differences but at same time, sameness… oh forget it.

*The Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes. Just because.

Should Read This Book:

*Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut.

Five Books that Mean a lot to Me:

1) No Logo: Taking Aim at the Brand Bullies by Naomi Klein. O.K. So maybe I shaved my head and became an anti-corporate vegan for a couple of months after reading it, but, it changed my whole perspective man. Make sure you buy this one at a Chapters or an Indigo, or an otherwise Big-boxity operation.

2) Egotists and Autocrats: the Prime Ministers of Canada by George Bowering. Instant classic!

3) Why We Act Like Canadians by Pierre Berton. It's pre-Charter, but it carries an ageless wisdom of sorts.

[Bonus points for getting three out of five straight out of Canadiana]

4) Forrest Gump by Winston Groom. Not even the same story man. Forrest smoke dope, Forrest fly spaceship, Forrest befriend monkey. I can't see how they left the monkey out of the movie; he practically carried the script!

5) The Republic by Plato. An oldie but a goodie!

I tag:

Jason Cherniak

Go political

Tasteful Future

Kyle's Modern Blog

Even Steven

In the Spirit of a Good Cuss

2005-06-02T01:00:00.000-06:00

'Tis good to me making new friends!

I've been expanding my bloglinks on almost a daily basis as of late. I've been frequently checking in on my new homeboys and homegals on the progblog-o-sphere-ical. Things are indeed looking good.

A couple of things though about funny looking people...

Has anyone every noticed that Tom Delay is obviously an alien? I mean, if anyone was ever a "Grey" in disguise, I think it's pretty safe to say that that person, would be Tom Delay. Seriously, can't you all see how the synthetic skin-like fabric hangs off the carbon mask/exo-skeltonium? Well, maybe you're not trying hard enough?

Anyways, on a similar vein: can anyone tell me that this guy does not look like a true born Senator? Moreover, can we not expect this guy to get himself up to all kinds of unsorted Senatorly activities? I'll tell you what, if it weren't fur' the explicit rules forbidding that kind of thing, I'd be inclined to give up my seat for him. Being as how he suits it so much and all.

Pretty Little Ditty of a Quiz

2005-05-30T13:08:00.000-06:00

Alright,

I've recently visited a number of sites that contain links to the Quizfarm. My girlfriend thinks these types of tests are completely bogus, and thus, I am an idiot for subscribing to them. However, despite her ridicule, I find them to be good fun, and also I think these ones to be relatively accurate, so far as internet hokum goes.

The first one is about determining your world view. Apparently I am a "Cultural Creative" to the bone, as I scored %88 the first time I tried, and %100 the second time I took the test.

The next one is more specific, and eventually it picks an appropriate religion to suit your belief structure. I'm told that I'm somewhere between Buddhism and Agnosticism (although I think my newfound religion is fast becoming Quizfarmism!)

Hats Off to the PBA!

2005-05-29T15:12:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I received an electronic memorandum document from General Scott Tribe, leader of the Progressive Bloggers Allied Resistance Fighters. It was, as some of you will know, in regards to the completion of phase one of the Progressive Bloggers Association webpage/clubhouse. In it, General Tribe also highlighted some of the most important items pertaining to the explosive growth of the Progressive Bloggers (referred to hereinafter as the PBA,) and I must admit that I was instantaneously overcome with emotion upon reading this most wonderful warrant of success. As I scrolled on, I learned that the PBA’s membership has swelled to over sixty-three, and it is now poised to eclipse the “Blogging Tories” as the largest (and strongest) existing political blogroll in Canada! Although I’m sure many individuals are equally excited about these positive reports, I feel as though few have as much to gain, or as much optimism to exude, as does yours truly.

For unlike most of the blogs associated with the PBA, which almost all predate the creation of the official organisation, this blog represents a new generation of progressive blogs, in that it was birthed after the genesis of the Progressive Bloggers site. In fact, methinks that ‘twas in only the second day of operation that I became a full craft member of the PBA, and subsequently, like an unnatural by-product of a chemical reaction, took to the blogosphere with the implicit intent to fight for and with my heroes of the Progressive Bloggers. Henceforth, the Catalytic Corral would cooperatively perform with other greats like Capitalist Pig and The Calgary Grit. I really felt like I had been drafted, right-out of high school, to play with the Yankees of Bloggerhood!

Of course, none of this is to compare myself to such giants, rather, only to express my solace in being buried half-way down the list; as I am, a humble member of the practice roster of the PBA (if you will allow me to continue the analogy.) And thus I shall remain, ceaselessly ready, willing, and able to do whatever destiny asks of me to defend the moderate argument, and uphold justice, in the sacred spirit of the Progressive Bloggers and all the other good buds who do what they do for the good of Canada and for the benefit of humanity! And that is why I wear, and will continue to wear my Progressive Bloggers logo proudly at the top of my links section, for all to see, everlastingly and evermore.

Once again, to General Tribe, Colonel Ramson, and all the other Officers to whom I owe my enormous debt of gratitude, thanks for giving me an opportunity to play on your team!

Yours sincerely,

Senator J. M. Catalyst ESQ.

Gettin' Back To It

2005-05-26T21:45:00.000-06:00

Well,

I’m gay to see that I’m not the only blogpoet to have been slacking-off as of late. Ha Ha. For I’ve been clicking about, and it seems as though most have been relenting on their frenzied electronic diatribes. And I suppose that is healthy. . . I suppose.

I spent the weekend in the beautiful climes of the East-Kootenays, where I was fortunate enough to have experienced her full impressiveness, half corked as a miner at shift’s end. On the way home, however, my transmission slipped, and now I have to haul my ‘94 Plymouth Voyager and warranty papers over to the crooks who told me they’d fixed it before. A pox on their households forsooth!

Then, yesterday, I attended the official ceremony of welcoming for Her Majesty The Queen to Cowtown. Interestingly enough, Paul Martin received a standing ovation from the near sell-out crowd at the Saddledome. Perhaps it’s official protocol, but nevertheless, it was interesting to see a stadium full of gray-haired Calgarians rise to applaud a man that seems to represent the virtual antithesis to their demographic aspirations. I guess one could dismiss it all for confusion. I mean, between the flagrant royalistic tendencies buzzing in the air, and the glare in the jumbotron...

Actions - Reactions

2005-05-20T09:03:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I might have galloped out of the shoots a little early with my Belinda apologies. It’s just that my bleeding heart is naturally sympathetic to any girl who gets called a whore 7000 times in one day.

That being said, I’m actually starting to think that it would have been better for Belinda if the government had fallen! If it had, then at least she would have been able to play the righteous card in a distant, distant leadership race. She probably would have been able to, long after the fact, paint a rather believable picture of herself walking away from a comfortable set-up in Stephen Harper’s claxis, to perform her patriotic duty to the idea of Federalism. No, scratch that. TO SAVE CANADA! She would have survived the next couple of elections for sure. All it would have taken was a little love, a little TLC.

But now she has to sit in Martin’s cabinet and face the hollering hooligans who once saw her as their little Belini.

Final Prediction: CBC will make a docu-drama, within the next three years, on the life and times of possibly the most interesting character in Canadian politics in the last five years… Chuck Cadman.

Catching Up

2005-05-19T01:48:00.000-06:00

Heck Jeez!

I must have slept damn near forty hours straight. Hopefully my friends will forgive me for missing a post, for seeing as how I’m getting on in decades, it takes me a lot longer to recover from long car-rides. Indeed, getting old is a biotch!

But let’s see what’s in the news today… oh, check it out, looks like we’re going to have a sunny long-weekend. And look at this, there’s some kind of genocide taking place in Sudan; that doesn’t sound good. It also appears as though the Alberta Energy Utilities Board is about to make some inconsequential decisions regarding royalty rate adjustments… Interesting stuff!

Nope, don’t see anything here worth commenting on. Oh wait!

What’s this here, on the first 11 pages of my newspaper?

BELINDA STRONARCH CROSSES THE FLOOR; BLOGGERS OF ALL COLOURS ARE TORN BETWEEN WATCHING CONTINUING COVERAGE OR CAMPING OUT IN FRONT OF THE CINIPLEX!!!!!!!!!!!!

That’s pretty freekin’ unbelievable I have to say. But, pursuant to my earlier remarks, I still feel that this move will eventually prove a good fit for her.

If you’re really interested in my expanded pathetic analysis, then by all means follow the comments on the aforementioned link. I think I’m like second from the last post. Although I make some pretty rediculous predictions, it is still a landmark event for my blogging career, as it marks the first time I actually interact with some real blog culture icons. They made fun of me, but now I’m one of them.

Hey, just like Belinda!

It Makes You Think

2005-05-17T11:28:00.000-06:00

After an excessively long campaign of Axis & Allies on Sunday evening, I thought it would be nice to spend the day not thinking too much.

Thus, I got in my car and drove up to Edmonton, at which place I could attentively sit in the Chamber of the Provincial government, a peaceful locale, where thinking is usually left an afterthought. So there I sat, dutifully listening to the mindless drivel of the Daily Routine until the topic finally shifted to some promotional program of the Community Development variety. Feeling little compulsion to stay and hear out the details, I decided to take leave and spend the rest of the afternoon on a stroll through the beautiful streets of Edmonton’s majestic core (and I’m not being facetious, I actually love that city!) Perhaps it’s the Europeanesk layout, or perhaps it’s the people, but I have always found Edmonton to be both calming and vibrant, simultaneously.

Anyway…

While walking the promenade, I had the opportunity to sit down on a nice sunny patio just in time to meet one of Edmonton’s most interesting people. I was immediately drawn to this man, as he looked (in his motorised scooter and innocent manner,) much like my father did before his passing. Moreover, upon hearing him speak in his muddled Eastern European accent, I was instantly compelled to introduce myself and see if I could not retrieve a story from him. Luckily, I did.

He was an 80 year old Polish-Edmontonian named K, who had spent the better part of the last half-a-century as a watch-maker and goldsmith operating under the old Bay building on Jasper Avenue. K was a person worth meeting, and he had such a story to tell! Although I often pride myself upon my story telling capabilities, I think it would prudent if I left this one to the professional who wrote about him just a month ago in the Edmonton Journal. I couldn’t find it anywhere on-line so that I could link it, but here it is nonetheless:

POPE AND SOLIDARITY INSPIRE LOCAL GOLDSMITH By Mike Sadava

Somewhere in the Vatican lies a small, but unique, gold cross, studded with tiny diamonds and rubies with the white eagle – the emblem of Poland – affixed to it. An almost identical cross sits in a safety deposit box in Edmonton, made by the same goldsmith, Kasimierz Forysinski, an unassuming native of Poland who lives in a downtown seniors’ complex and prefers to be known simply as K.

While much of the world still mourns the death of Pope John Paul II, perhaps nowhere is that sentiment stronger than in the hearts of Polish people everywhere. The Pope’s effort in the struggle against communism in Eastern Europe is well documented and it started with his support of the Solidarity movement in Poland. During an era of extremely frosty relations between the Vatican and communists, John Paul visited Poland and demanded and received a visit with Lech Walesa, the leader of the Solidarity movement.

K, who is now 79, says he wasn’t a terribly observant Catholic, but he was proud that the pontiff was a fellow Pole and of his efforts to liberate Poland.

"The Pope was such a help to Solidarity at the time," he says. "This was a present to the Pope, not to the church."

K trained as a watchmaker in Poland and continued his trade for the rest of his life, but he also started making gold jewellery in his spare time. It was the same kind of fussy, meticulous work as repairing watches, and he was a natural. About 18 months prior to the Pope’s visit to Edmonton in 1984, K decided to use his skills to make a special gift for the pontiff. Using high quality, 18-carat gold, he spent countless hours designing, re-designing and making various versions of the gift. The version he came up with had the two pieces of the vertical part of the cross form a narrow "V," an idea he got while watching footage of some of the street demonstrations by Solidarity.

Demonstrations were officially forbidden, but religious processions were still allowed in the devoutly Catholic country. Members of Solidarity used willow sprigs fashioned into a V with a horizontal branch to complete the cross to form these processions. But they were really a symbol of V for victory.

K also wanted the cross to be uniquely Polish. So, he fashioned a white eagle to be attached to the cross and imbedded tiny rubies and diamonds to the two gold vertical struts. The cross is only about eight centimetres high.

At the time, K was running the watch repair shop in the basement of the old Bay store on Jasper Avenue. In the weeks leading up to the papal visit, The Bay set up a small display commemorating the event in a third floor corridor. It also included a chalice which had been fashioned by a local artisan and which was used during the visit here.

K’s cross was stolen – luckily for just a short time. A man reached behind the display case and pulled out the cross, but an alert security guard happened to see him and caught the thief before he could leave the building.

K decided right away to make a replica, which he completed in just 48 hours. He was told by the Edmonton archdiocese that the original safely got to the papal entourage.

Although he has been a Canadian since the 1960s, K still feels much allegiance towards Poland. He was born in a village near Lodz in the central part of the country, but fled to England when the Nazis occupied it during the Second World War. He spent much of the war in Italy, a member of the Polish tank brigade tied to the British Army. After the war, K was back in England rather than returning to Poland, which had been turned over to the Soviets. He married an English girl and, ironically, had to formally join the British Army to get demobilised. He went back to matchmaking and then spent a few years in Bermuda before immigrating to Canada.

Although K is still articulate, humorous and takes an interest in European politics and fixing electric scooters, he fears that dementia could soon set in. Sometimes he has trouble finding English words and says his English was as good as his Polish. His ambition is to get the replica cross to an honoured place in Poland, although he doesn’t know how this will happen.

"I want to give the cross to someone who will continue the Pope’s message and what he has done for Poland and our church."

Needless-to-say, my encounter with K quickly removed the possibility of spending a day without thinking. Indeed, the rest of the trip was spent trying to put into context the amazing saga of this man’s life, and the overwhelming coincidence that I should meet him at this climactic point in his biography. It was an afternoon I will not soon forget.

Since the running of that article back on April 9, 2005, K has been in contact with a number of individuals who were equally touched by his story. With the help of some of these kindred spirits, he has made arrangements to fly to Poland (perhaps one last time) to take part in the official dedication of the replica cross to the National Museum and Archives in Warsaw.

Pairing Thoughts

2005-05-14T20:29:00.000-06:00

Spring is most definitely shouting in full bloom, and summer doth hearken.

In the quiet corner of Canada called Alberta, the pacific assembly sits ready to retire for the season in subdued anticipation of a centennial celebration, and a regal appointment to boot! Meanwhile, in the sullied corridors of Parliament Hill, Paul Martin and his henchmen clamber, in cannibalistic rage, to scavenge what last shreds of dignity might remain.

On the one hand, I (sort of) hope that the "pairing" gesture of oldster New Democrat Ed Broadbent will be enough to inflict a euthanizing blow to the crippled Martin gang. But then again, these are the people who are poised to take the reigns once old Paul decides to call it a day.

Oh mercy!

What a Shite Show!

2005-05-12T11:01:00.000-06:00

My Goodness!

It seems everywhere I look, people are interpreting some kind of poll data. Nevertheless, I'm not going to spend a whole heck of a lot of time analyzing numbers that point to the inevitable doom, already predicted by every other blog in the Canuckidy World!

But, I do feel inclined to share this and this with my loyal readership. They actually have nothing to do with the declining fortunes of Paul Martin, and everything to do with feelings of sullenness and teenaged anxiety...

That's all for now... I mean, give me a break; this is only my second post, and if those hyperlikns worked then I'm already ahead of the game. I'm exhausted!

The Senator

Let the Catalysis Begin!

2005-05-09T14:30:00.000-06:00

Hot Damn!

I can't believe I've just become a Blogger: Nerd Factor 10, Nerd Factor 10, indeed!

But seriously folks, I've been perusing the blogosphere for so long now that I reckoned it's high time I set up a ranting platform of mine own. If all goes as planned, and my 103 year old fingers manage to clumsily click and jab their way through this weblog creationatory process, then what ye' be reading now shall stand as the inaugural post of The Catalytic Corral, cyberbox stationary for the Honourable Senator J. M. Catalyst ESQ. What a wonderful episode forsooth!

I can't tell you how gay I truly am to see the Ol' Senator finally commit to the XXIst Century. This monumental step will enable me to join the armada of voices currently dominating the Canadian political blog scene. Henceforth, I shall take it as my solemn duty to show all those whippersnappers out there that you don't have to be a gyroplasmic technician to get your point across in this pompous age of digital knowitallism. Instead, I plan to cautiously lend my voice to that heroic call of progressive political blogenda; to fight in the noble tradition of those who have come before me, and are still standing, albeit battled and bruised, but ultimately unwavering in their conviction. However, unlike most of them whose credibilities are rooted upon years of legal haranguing and political backrooming, this blog will aim to provide a more "down home" approach to political hackdom, which I hope you will find to be both refreshing, and cybernutritious.

Finally, I must, in accordance with standing custom, acknowledge all those people who have inspired me to commit to this mounting endeavour. And for the sake of thrift, I will single out just the few immediate people without whose guidance and friendship. . . First and foremost, I thank my "diamond in the sky" Lady Charlotte, whose beauty and elegance cannot be described in one sentence. Then, I would like to give an e-shout-out to my bro Dave, who showed me the way of the blogs. And also, I have to give some props to my good dogs Ryan, Steve, and Dan, who each in their own way encouraged me to do this thing, even though (as previously mentioned) I'm 103 years old. I thank you all, and I hope that at least the four of you will enjoy my scrablings throughout the lifetime of this weblog, and longafter when they're published along with my collected diatribes and correspondences to be sold for just six easy installments of $89.95 plus applicable shipping and handling.

And with that, I declare this blog so established on the ninth day in the month of May, 2005.

Million Shouts of Gratuity!

Senator Catalyst