The Nazi Hunter Has Died. Simon Wiesenthal, 1908-2005

This year, which sees the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, will also mark the year the world lost a Jewish hero and a humanitarian of epic proportions.

The Nazi Hunter, Simon Wiesenthal, has died at the age of 96.

He brought Adolph Eichmann to justice, spent years trying to capture Josef Mengele, and was instrumental in bringing 1100 Nazi war criminals to trial. Mr. Wiesenthal fought anti-Semitism on the world stage, and worked tirelessly to expose neo-Nazism and all forms of racism at all levels.

One of Simon Wiesenthal's most passionate beliefs was that the word "holocaust" is being trivialized, thus making the extermination of more than six million Jews less horrific to each new generation. He spoke to countless groups of children and young adults about his experiences in surviving 12 Nazi camps, losing 89 family members and finally being liberated from Mauthausen in 1945, at 37 years of age, weighing 89 pounds. Mr. Wiesenthal made it his life's work to become the permanent voice for the six million Jewish victims of the Holocaust.

"When history looks back, I want people to know the Nazis weren't able to kill millions of people and get away with it," he once said.

The 'Conscience of the Holocaust’ has left us, but Simon Wiesenthal's legacy will live on through the many organizations with which he worked so tirelessly; first and foremost, the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles and the soon-to-open Center for Human Dignity, Museum of Tolerance in Jerusalem.

Shalom uv'racha B'Mashiach Yeshua.

Our Cat Is Making Me Crazy!

Ever wonder what C-A-T stands for?

Completely Accomplished Terrorist!

We moved recently, from a small apartment to a three level townhouse. Bella (the Terrorist) used to have a utility closet that was rigged to allow her easy access, while keeping the dogs out, thus providing her a safe haven, and preventing us from having to deal with the "joy" of "kitty crunchies", those yummy little morsels found only in cat litter boxes, and coveted by dogs everywhere. Nuff said. She slept in "her" closet at night, and all was good.

When we relocated, Bella (the Terrorist) lost her utility closet, but gained a storage room that is hers alone, meaning she no longer has to share her space with the vacuum cleaner, luggage and cleaning supplies. She has two beds, a cat tree, toys, her food, water and treat dished, her litter box....a virtual Shangri-La for felines. Is Bella (the Terrorist) happy with her new digs?

Hell no.

Bella's (the Terrorist) new "room" is at the far end of Christine's office. We decided that we would no longer close and bar her door at night, we would, instead, give her access to the office (and her newest, most favourite cat tree) and just close the office door at night.

Sounded great....in theory. In reality, Bella (the Terrorist) is not interested in staying in her room, with her specially designed cat furniture, her toys, food, and treats. No, Bella (the Terrorist) is much more interested in pushing me to the edge of total insanity.

The Cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) can, and does, open the office door, easily and almost faster than I can close it. After making her escape, she comes looking for revenge.

A word to the wise: never piss off a Completely Accomplished Terrorist.

I'm not sure which is worse, the stealth with which she stalks her victim (me) or the self-satisfied little "mmmmph" she emits when she lands, all 28 pounds of Maine Coon massiveness, on my bony shin, as a lay in bed, teetering between wakefulness and sleep. Then the kneading starts, and the licking, the "love nips" and the grande finale, the "let's see if I can suffocate the furless ape by sleeping on her face".

I'm not a cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) person, never have been, never pretended to be. Bella (the Terrorist) is a beautiful, albeit frightening creature, and I respect her, mostly out of hope for self-preservation, but I am completely aware of the fact that she regards me as below contempt. I exist to feed her, clean up after her, and provide entertainment for her. The Marquis de Sade would be proud of this feline, since entertainment, to Bella's (the Terrorist) way of thinking, means that someone must end up shrieking and/or bleeding.

The sad fact is that I'm engaged in a battle of wits with a cat (Completely Accomplished Terrorist) and I'm losing.

Ouch.

Terry Fox Still Makes Me Cry.

All day people have been talking about the fact that this is the 25th "anniversary" of the moment Terry Fox was forced to end his Marathon of Hope in Thunder Bay, Ontario.

All day I have fought a losing battle with the lump in my throat, and the tears that threaten to fall at any moment.

Terry Fox was a true hero to countless Canadians, but especially to members of my generation, who were just coming of age when this unassuming, selfless young man began the journey that would make him a legend. I clearly remember the day Terry appeared on television, barely able to control his emotions, telling his fellow Canadians that cancer had returned to attack his body yet again and he could not go on. I also remember where I was and what I was doing when the terrible news of Terry Fox's death, at just 22 years of age, was announced. I have never again experienced the complete and utter sadness I did that day. Everyone around me also felt a devastating personal loss on June 28, 1981. It was heartbreaking to witness the depth of despair caused by his passing. Terry Fox took small pieces of the hearts of everyone he touched with his raw courage and total determination. He thought he would beat cancer and finish his run, and when he couldn't, hope and faith took a body blow.

The sad truth is that, had Terry Fox been diagnosed with cancer today, he might well have survived, thanks in great part to the millions of dollars that have been raised in his name for cancer research.

This man, so approachable, so much like thousands of typical Canadian sons and brothers, so larger-than-life after his death, once said "Somewhere the hurting must stop."

It will, but not today.

William Hubbs Rehnquist.

One of the most repulsive of the United States of America's Supreme Court Justices, William Hubbs Rehnquist, has died at the age of 80.

May his soul, if he had one, never find a moment's peace.

Negatively affecting society in the U.S. since the Nixon era, Rehnquist was appointed Supreme Court Justice in 1986 by bad actor turned worse President Ronald Reagan. Maybe Ronnie suffered from dementia earlier than everyone thought.

To label Rehnquist an arch-conservative is a huge understatement. He believed in law and order, and the harsher and swifter "justice" prevailed, the better. A 1969 speech in which he referred to Anti-war demonstrators as the "new barbarians", who should be stopped by "whatever means necessary" made Rehnquist a hero to the facist element in the U.S.

Rehnquist was not shy about his racist beliefs, and took many opportunities to speak out about his disgust with equality and affirmative action. His 1954 speech extolling the virtue of "separate but equal" as written 1n the Plessy v. Ferguson decision in 1896 fought against inclusion during the Brown v. The Board of Education hearing. In 1983 Rehnquist voted to allow Bob Jones University (Bob Jones University?????) to exclude blacks from its campus. In 1964, Rehnquist was one of three people to testify against a proposed ordinance to ban discrimination in public accommodations in Phoenix. When it passed, he wrote a letter to the editor of the local paper saying that "it is, I believe, impossible to justify the sacrifice of even a portion of our historic individual liberty for a purpose such as this." As Rehnquist read it, the Constitution lets states outlaw abortion and sponsor prayers in public schools but bars them from giving special, affirmative-action preferences to racial minorities and women.

Obviously believing that equality between the sexes was as immoral as equality between races, Rehnquist voted against Roe v. Wade in 1973. He wrote: " even today, when society's views on abortion are changing, the very existence of the debate is evidence that the 'right' to an abortion is not so universally accepted as Roe v. Wade would have us believe."

In 2003, the Supreme Court preserved affirmative action in college admissions and issued a landmark gay rights ruling that struck down laws criminalizing gay sex, both over Rehnquist's objections. In 2004, Rehnquist disagreed when the court ruled that the government cannot indefinitely detain terrorism suspects and deny them access to legal representation.

This horrible human being was not interested in representing the views of "average Americans", he had no respect for the little people, and felt no need to understand the realities facing his fellow citizens. However the accolades will no doubt pour in and this hate-filled, self-important bigot will be remembered as a great American, at least by some.

Hopefully, history will not be kind to William Rehnquist. There are many American heroes, past and present, this ghastly man is not one of them.

Welcome To Wal-Mart, Please Leave Your Brain and Your Wallet At The Door.

Christine let me go to Wal-Mart on the weekend. Without her. Uh-oh!

Angelina and I left for North Van (nothing good can ever come from a trip to North Van) with a list and a plan, which included sticking to a budget. Good intentions are a wonderful thing.....

I swear Wally World is the Evil Empire. Once I get past the front doors, I'm no longer in control of myself. I wander the aisles seeing tons of merchandise I simply must have, even though I wasn't aware we needed it.

How does one spend $314 and change and come home with virtually nothing? Do the powers that be at Wal-Mart pump mind-altering drugs through the ventilation system? Are the Wal-Mart Greeters all Voodoo Priests and Priestesses? That I even want to shop at Wal-Mart, an organization that flies in the face of my far-left-of-centre belief in fair employment practices, boggles my mind.

Yet I go, I spend, then I wonder what the hell happened.

Christine wants me to go the self-banning route, like gambling addicts who ar voluntarily tossed out of casinos. It's a thought.

Thank God I still have London Drugs......

Dubya's Head Is In The Sand(bag).

My heart is with the residents of New Orleans during this horrible moment in history. The magnitude of utter devastation is almost too huge to contemplate, so I guess I understand the inaction of the leader of the United States of America, President George W. Bush. Dubya does have a short attention span, and y'all know he has other priorities. Besides, this catastrophe happened in Louisiana, not Connecticut or New York, and the poor black folks who are most affected by this disaster probably vote for Democrats anyway.

Dubya has a made up war to fight, so the distraction caused by the monumental human tragedy in the deep, dark south has to wait in line for his attention. How is the Leader of the Free World supposed to find the money, time and expertise to keep New Orleans from sinking when he is busy trying to ensure that not a single building is left standing in Iraq?

What's a good old boy to do? He tells the National Guard they should "Shoot to Kill" if they see blacks looting. Whites finding goods and taking them away are fine, though.

Having all but decimated the agencies whose very reason for existence was to act in emergency situations such as the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, in order to funnel money into his "War on Terror", Dubya has totally forsaken his duty to protect his own citizens from harm. Ask any of the displaced, sick, hungry and frightened thousands of victims of this natural disaster about terror. They don't need to worry about the twin bogeymen of weapons of mass destruction and an oil shortage, mass destruction has been visited upon them by Mother Nature, the terrors they face are real: starvation, sickness, death.

Days after the devastation in New Orleans and surrounding areas, the neediest, poorest and most vulnerable citizens were left to watch their lives disintegrate before their eyes. Had these Americans ever felt they mattered, they were disabused of the notion that Uncle Sam gives a tinker's damn about the poor relations.

The United States of America will never be the same. After September 11, 2001, when Americans showed courage in tragic circumstances, proving they were good neighbors, they could come together in a crisis, they did take care of their own, and the world saw Americans as human beings with the capacity to show compassion and empathy. Even Dubya looked like a decent man. Now the world sees those same Americans ignoring the immense suffering of an entire city, blaming the people of New Orleans for not being prepared, hemming and hawing over aid, rescue missions and providing relief. Instead of acting like a strong leader, Dubya is showing his true colours, he's protecting his interests, and he's basically told Louisianans that they are on their own. He's got bigger fish to fry. He was handed the opportunity to do the right thing, and he failed. He'll leave American soldiers in Iraq, where they have systematically destroyed a country that was already weakened from years of living under in a brutal dictatorship. He'll continue to spend obscene amounts of money to annihilate a culture he views as substandard. He'll fight to the bloody end to protect his image as a president proud to be tough on terror; he'll keep sacrificing American lives to bolster his fantasies, his belief that America has the God-given right to bully any other country into submission.

Nobody will ever again accuse George W. Bush of being a decent man.

I'm Not Smart, But I Can Lift Heavy Things.

Spatial relations mystify me.

Christine loves to tell the story of my attempt to impress her with my skills as a dyklie Dyke soon after we had moved into our first home together.

We bought an Ikea TV stand, and I was putting it together. I said that I needed a drill. Given that Ikea furniture requires only an Allen key for assembly, Chris asked why I needed a drill. I told her that the holes were on the wrong side.

Had I meant it as a joke, we would have had a nice chuckle and moved on. I was dead serious.

Some people can visualize huge projects in their heads. My friend Angelina could seemingly find a way to fit a camel through the eye of a needle, and make it look easy. That's why she put together our new dining room table, after I tried to attach a leg backwards, and then assembled two bookshelves and my desk. Christine constructed six chairs.

I made sure the womenly women had cold drinks.

I'm not allowed to have power tools. The last time I tried to install hardware for blinds, I drilled 12 sets of holes before I got lucky. I'm permitted a hammer, but only to hang pictures, because Chris sucks at interior decorating. If we could afford to hire a designer, I'm sure I'd lose hammer privileges, too.

It's hard to maintain the hard-earned reputation of "butch" when I'm not allowed to wear a tool belt, and I'm known for baking, not building stuff. Fortunately I'm short, wide, nearly bald and drive a Suburban, generally with four dogs in the back. Not many people mistake me for a yummy mummy from Kits.

But man, do I wish I could tear apart a motor or build a shed.....