One Of Those Days.

I'm not a "glass is half full" kind of person. I've never looked on the bright side or hoped for the best, I'm more realistic than that. As a little kid I developed two theories, though, and Deb's simple philosophies for a life safely lived were born.

1) Make people laugh, because laughing people will rarely hit you. This isn't 100% effective, of course, there are people who chuckle while they torture babies, but how many psychopaths does one deal with intimately and on a daily basis? If you can keep a tormentor giggling for a few minutes, chances are much higher that less blood will be shed.

2) Make people happy. Period. Do what they want, when they want, regardless of your own needs, wants or desires. You can hate them for your weakness, or just beat up on yourself, either way works. There are some major design flaws with this philosophy, but it is successful, at least most of the time.

Today I asked a health care professional who knows the answers to such questions whether he believed some people were meant to be alone. Hard wired for solitary existances. He said yes, there are people who should be alone. "That was not the question", I said, "But that is my answer." he replied. At least he didn't call me Grasshopper.

I was really wondering whether someone can be so fucked up that being any kind of a partner/lover/spouse, even just a decent friend, is impossible. I wonder whether the essence of real caring can be beaten out of a person, and if it can be restored somehow. I wonder what's left over, whether it is worth salvaging.

I actually learned some ugly truths about myself today. Well, I faced them, or had them shoved in my face, is more accurate, I've always known my faults. What it boils down to is that I'm an angry, selfish bastard who needs to grow up, get over myself, and stop my trademark passive-aggressiveness.

That's easy enough. I'll get right on it. Feminist Counselor, here I come.

A "Binning" Guide? What The Hell?!

The Vancouver Coastal Health Authority, Van City, The Vancouver Foundation and Simon Fraser University have funded a pamphlet produced by The Grandview-Woodlands Food Connection Coalition to give "tips" to homeless, immigrant and low/no-income Vancouverites as to how they might best feed themselves. By searching through garbage cans.

!*#!*&#*?

Is this for real? Dumpster Diving as a way to access food considered "healthy and nutritious"? This is Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, this is a developed country, we are spending hundreds of millions of dollars on the 2010 Olympics and we are distributing leaflets suggesting the best way to Bin for Breakfast? I don't care that the money for the Olympics doesn't come from the same source as Human Resources or Health Care or Education, people being forced to eat waste is an outrage. The argument that people are not "forced" into the binning lifestyle is as much garbage as the stuff being removed from dumpsters. Nobody, as a little kid, when asked what s(he) wants to do when s(he) grows up, replies "I want to be a Dumpster Diver, just like 'Crazy Larry', the guy in our lane that everyone hates/fears/ignores/berates." This just isn't right. If the food at the Salvation Army, Evelyn Saller Centre and the other organizations that feed the hungry is that bad, if the Food Bank is that unable to help the hungry, then something has to change. There are dozens of organizations in the Downtown Eastside dedicated to helping feed hungry people, can some of them not receive real funding, real dollars to produce real food that will get people out of dumpsters at mealtimes? It may cost a little, it may cost a small fortune, but the lives of our most vulnerable citizens have value. If they don't, we are beyond redemption as a city, as a society.

Will the Vancouver Mayor during the 2010 Games make sure dignitaries get a copy of Better Bins and Dumpsters in their welcome packages?

Steve And Dubya Have A Play Date!!

Somebody decided that the two boys living next to one another ought to get together for a day of fun. For Dubya, it meant playing with the neighborhood nerd, sort of a mercy play date, but for Stephen, it was almost like being allowed to go to the skate park with his big brother. Dubya and his buddy "Steve", it's almost enough to bring a tear to the eye.

They chatted about the required agenda items, softwood lumber, passports, terrorism. I'm sure Harper talked slowly and used small words; after all, his host seems to be a functional illiterate, and thinking too much might give him a headache. Bush may be a mental midget, but he has power, and power is a huge aphrodisiac, especially to a guy like Harper. It'll never come to him naturally, nor will the respect or confidence of most Canadians, but at least he gets to hang with the big boys.

It's frightening that Stephen Harper sees George Bush as a role model. Bush is the leader of a country steeped in a history of war, a country that buys into its own belief that it is the preferred destination of every human on the planet. The American Dream is a nightmare, but most "folks" don't see it that way. 9/11 happened because of American arrogance and an inability to understand that much of the rest of the world sees the U.S. as a bully and a tyrant. The sad thing is that it will happen again, because the people who need to understand just don't get it.

Canada is not a "superpower", nor are we, as Canadians, targets for abuse and hatred when we travel abroad. Stephen Harper will never be George Bush (as if the world could handle another one, Senior and Junior are enough for one planet) because Canadians hold their leaders to task for their actions. Loose cannons are not normal operating procedure in Canadian politics (although we do have our share of wingnuts....think Hedy Fry, Svend Robinson and provincially, Ralph Klein) and a leader with the sheer disregard Bush shows for the laws of the land, the civil liberties of American citizens, and the rights of non-Americans worldwide is appalling. Americans put up with Dubya's "good old boy" crap.

Canadians never would.

The Cat Hates Me.

We adopted a retired breeding Maine Coon cat a few years ago. Her registered name paid homage to Madonna (the singer, not the saint) and that should have been a warning. Reckless, we threw caution to the wind, and brought home the bride of Satan devil cat from hell.

She hated me on sight.

Renamed Bella (because it suits her outer packaging, she is a beautiful looking cat, but sadly the lovely vessel contains the feline equivalent of toxic waste ) she quickly decided that Christine was to be her human, and I was nothing but a road block between her and her indentured servant. Not even a road block so much as a lump or an irritation to be excised. I tried to win her over, I bought her trinkets, treats, toys. I kept her litter box fresh and as sweet smelling as a cat toilet can smell. I made sure her dog-free zone was a fortress that no canine could breach. Like the scrawny, geeky kid who turns herself inside out to make the bully pick on someone else, I tried to make Bella see that I was not the enemy, but a friend she just hadn't yet discovered.

Still she hated me.

I brushed her gorgeous, long fur (to which I am so allergic ) because she is a very large cat, and can't groom herself in some hard-to-reach places. Did I mind the asthma attacks and blue tinge my face took on? No, of course not.

I rubbed her ears, and, hearing a low rumble, thought she was purring. Turned out she was growling and about to turn teeth and nails on my offending fingers.

I brought her cat trees, cat beds, cat shelves, real ostrich feathers, all the comforts and amusements money could buy. She snubbed the objects of my affection, and started watching me, following my movements with her eyes. She would appear, suddenly, out of nowhere, spectre-like, just to let me know that she was keeping me in her line of fire.

Still hates me.

So last night I am trying to have a quiet, relaxed conversation with Bella's maidservant, on what I thought was one of her breaks. Bella is a demanding boss, think Donald Trump without the charm and with better hair, and when Chris is summoned, she is expected to attend. Now. Her breaks are infrequent, we try to make the most of them.

Every time I opened my mouth to speak, Bella meowed. Loud. For a long time, and the look! One could have sustained hypothermia from that withering glare.

I fear that eventually she will figure out how to get rid of me, and she's clever enough to make it look like an "accident". One day I'll just have disappeared, and nobody will suspect Bella, nobody will ever know.

And she'll finally have Christine all to herself.......

The Devil Wears Prada - Nada.

We thought, "Meryl Streep, the movie's gotta be great."

Yeah, 'k. Think again.

I can't believe we wasted hours precious hours (15 minutes of ads, don't get me started) of life sitting through such stupefyingly wretched crap.

The critics who said this film was "witty", "intelligent", and/or "relevent" must be on crack. It was pointless, had no social value, no message, no excuse for being made except to give Meryl Streep a reason to be embarrassed when she cashed her seven figure cheque, and to push even more young women to become anorexic and/or bulemic ("zero is the new two"). It did give a great diet tip, though, one should eat absolutely nothing at all, and then, when one is about to faint, eat a cheese cube.

Anne Hathaway is beautiful, and she made every designer outfit she wore look good, but that's not enough on which to base a movie. Her character had a little more humanity than Streep's, but when one is aping Cruella DeVille, that's not hard. By the time Andi's "aha" moment came, nobody cared, because nobody cared from moment one of this vapid mess.

The writers hit every stereotype with a sledge hammer. Tragic gay lap dog, innocent and earnest young journalist wannabe, selfless boyfriend, bitch boss from hell. Stanley Tucci (why does Hollywood insist on using str8 actors in gay parts?) was painfully one-dimensional as Nigel.

If this movie truly was based on Lauren Weisberger's year as Anna Wintours' assistant, and she stayed, she deserved every indignity played out on the screen. This adaptation is more like a Road Runner cartoon than anything any thinking adult might wish to watch.

The movie sucked.

"That's all."

Abortion: Woman's Body, Woman's Choice.

The Americans are scaring me again. It's bad enough that there are states in which a woman cannot get a legal abortion in 2006, but what's worse is that some states are trying to claw back the rights of women to terminate unwanted pregnancies years after women were granted those rights.

Dubya is sending troops all over the globe to ensure the rights of people who don't want U.S. interference, in countries that (correctly) see him as a war criminal, while in his own little kingdom, the basic civil liberties of thousands of Americans are trampled daily. Can you say double standard, Mr. President?

Roe V Wade was decided on January 22, 1973, and the vocal, obnoxious, fanatical, frightening far left seems no less fervent now than it did 33 years ago. The anti-choice extremists haven't changed much, but society has. Equality is the norm in most states ( but we all know that there are a hell of a lot of places in the U.S. where some are more equal than others) and women have a great deal more power, stronger representation, louder voices....

And yet, some women, lots of women, are forced to give birth against their wills.

Any woman, in any situation, for any reason, should be able to get a safe abortion. The only place for argument is at what stage is an abortion not safe for a woman. This medical procedure should be of no concern to anyone but the pregnant woman and her physician. Why can anti-choice zealots not get that? It is not the "right" of the sperm supplier, government, religious groups or society to tell a woman that she must carry a fetus in her body if she chooses not to. Tell some guy that an unwanted article is going to be implanted in his body and he's going to be forced to carry it for 9 months against his will, and see what happens.

Americans have many issues about which they should be concerned. This isn't one of them.

Nova Scotia, WAKE UP, It's The Year Of Our Lord Two Thousand And Six!

Note to the people of Nova Scotia:

You, collectively, are a laughingstock.

This "Sunday Shopping" thing has got to be resolved already! RCMP Officers armed with measuring tapes at the local Sobey's store? What the hell are you thinking?

Get over it, the whole "day of rest" obsession makes your province look like a throwback to the Puritans. And guess what? Most Nova Scotians may say they are Christians, but how many have entered a church for a regular service in the last month, year, decade? And guess what else? Sunday is not the Sabbath for the large majority of religions in the world. Believe it or not, people, there are those who are not WASPs in Nova Scotia. Shocking, isn't it?

One can get drunk in a bar on Sundays, gamble in any of a dozen or so ways, go to moving picture shows, the track, but buy a litre of milk at Superstore? Sacrilege!

Try to remember that most Canadians west of Quebec already believe the country ends at La Belle Province. This stupid, arcane law against Sunday shopping only proves the point that parts of Atlantic Canada are so backward and out of step that the region will never catch up and be a part of Canada.

This law isn't quaint, it doesn't make Nova Scotians look charming, it makes you look like fools.

Why The Space Shuttle Discovery Should Not Launch.

Crew members of the doomed Space Shuttle Columbia, 1 February 2003:

- Rick D. Husband, Commander
- William C. McCool, Pilot
- Michael P. Anderson
- David M. Brown
- Kalpana Chawla
- Laurel Clark
- Ilan Ramon - the first Israeli in space

May they all rest in peace.

The Discovery is due to launch tomorrow, the fourth of July (the Americans do subscribe to go big or stay home, don't they) regardless of the fact that there is a crack in the shuttle's external fuel tank.

I hope the Discovery crew makes it back alive.

Godspeed to the STS-121 crew:

-Stephanie Wilson
-Michael Fossum
-Steve Lindsey, Commander
-Piers Sellers
-Mark Kelly, Pilot
-Thomas Reiter
-Lisa M. Nowak

Is It Time To Decommission CBC Television?

The CBC National News is being bumped for "reality" television. Somebody do the right thing and pronounce the Canadian Broadcasting Company dead.

It wasn't so many years ago that many Canadians had two television channels from which to choose. The CBC or CTV. Maybe people watched the CBC because it was relevant or informative or entertaining, or maybe it was because Hockey Night In Canada was more bearable than The Littlest Hobo. There are now hundreds of channels, thousands of options, and really, aside from news and Rick Mercer, why would anyone watch the CBC in 2006?

CBC Radio is an entirely different matter. Still significant to the Canadian landscape, still connecting the country from coast to coast, and still the only station to which some Canadians have access. CBC Radio doesn't interrupt special reports to bring us Casey Kasem's Top 40, nor does it dumb down hard news.

If the seventeen Canadians who can't live without Rita MacNeil's Christmas Special (filmed before Ashley MacIsaac became Canada's RuPaul, and repeated every year since) want to keep CBC television on life-support, the government should turn the Corporation into a true public broadcasting station and let the Board of Directors beg and plead for donations to bring quality television to the great unwashed, a la PBS. How long would Hockey Night in Canada last if people actually had to pay to view?

Does your watch have a second hand?

Canada IS An Awesome Country. We Are Lucky to Be Here.

It's our collective birthday. Three cheers for a country that is, while not perfect, pretty damn amazing. Of course there is the gorgeous geography, the healthy economy, the quality of life (for some, that's where the imperfection starts to creep in) and all the "normal" stuff about which most developed countries tend to brag.

What I'm most proud of is our diversity. Canada is not a "melting pot", she is a rainbow. Any given city can be home to hundreds of ethnicities and cultures, and it makes for a vibrant, intelligent, exciting landscape.

What other country can celebrate the fact that 40 Members of Parliament were born outside of Canada?

Diane Ablonczy, United States
Omar Alghabra, Saudi Arabia
Vivian Barbot, Haiti
Susan Barnes, Malta
Maurizio Bevilacqua, Italy
John Cannis, Greece
Raymond Chan, China
Chris Charlton, Germany
Olivia Chow, Hong Kong
Tony Clement, England
Libby Davies, England
Sukh Dhaliwal, India
Ujjal Dosanjh, India
Steven Fletcher, Brazil
Joe Fontana, Italy
Hedy Fry, Trinidad
Nina Grewal, Japan
Albina Guarnieri, Italy
Rahim Jaffer, Uganda
Jim Karygiannis, Greece
Wajid Khan, Pakistan
Maka Kotto, Cameroon
Gurbax Malhi, India
Inky Mark, China
Keith Martin, England
Tony Martin, Ireland
Maria Minna, Italy
Maria Mourani, Ivory Coast
Deepak Obhrai, Tanzania
Daniel Petit, Belgium
Yasmin Ratansi, Tanzania
Pablo Rodriguez, Argentina
Michael Savage, Northern Ireland
Mario Silva, Portugal
Peter Stoffer, Netherlands
Andrew Telegdi, Hungary
Lui Temelkovski, Macedonia
Myron Thompson, United States
Vic Toews, Paraguay
Joe Volpe, Italy
John Williams, Scotland

And our talented, intelligent, free-spirited and feminist Governor General, Her Excellency the Right Honourable Michaëlle Jean, Haitian by birth, is another example of why this country is becoming stronger, more relevent on the international stage, respected by other countries. Everyone has a chance to do amazing things in this country, and amazing things are being done every day.

I'm proud to be a Canadian, not just today, but especially today.

Happy Birthday Canada.

How Can A Parent Hate Her Child?

I recently said something to the effect of "my mother didn't love me, or care about my safety, occassionally beat me senseless, and basically had no respect for any female, herself or me included, but she hated my little brother with a passion"

I was then asked "Why did she hate him so much?"

I've given this a lot of thought. It has been taking up a lot of the limited space in my brain, and I felt the need to examine it. I can't have too many negative queries banging around in there all at once, no good can come from that.

Dugger was sweet. Dugger, of course, was a nickname. His other nicknames were vile and varied, and were sometimes as effective as a blow to his body when used cruelly.

He was a small baby, cute and cuddly and needy, like new babies are. I was three when he arrived with the "social worker", whom I now regard as more a dealer or a pimp, and he instantly became "mine".

He was slow to talk (he didn't need to talk, I knew what he wanted before he did, and made damn sure he had it before he cried for it, because he was beaten early and often when he expressed needs, wants or desires). He was slow to walk. Slow to tie his shoes, dress himself, potty train (God, the physical scars that little boy has carried to manhood because he couldn't get the concept of toilet training). He wasn't challenged, had no learning disabilities, he just sort of wandered through like at his own pace.

My mother detested him. She routinely beat him black and blue. He cried, as little boys will when they are being brutalized, which sent her over the edge. That's where I stepped in, since she didn't really recognize at that point who she was pounding, only that someone was hurting, and it wasn't her. It went on for years and years, through belts, canes, riding crops, broom handles, to a tire iron, a rolling pin, a cast iron frying pan and a table leg. Her abuse made me hard, but it made him soft. I hated her with every ounce of strength I had, but Dugger wanted to earn her love. It was pathetic....this wee sweet boy, only wanting his mommy to love him, this drunk, hatred filled, violent anti-mommy wanting this "pussy boy" to become a man.

Like who? Her violent, drunken, unpredictable tyrant husband? This poster child for birth control or retroactive abortion?

We were beaten, pretty much daily, "beaten" being one of those quaint words that really means battered, brutalized and dehumanized. We learned not to scream, no matter how much it hurt, we learned not to cry, to whimper, to make a sound. We learned not to beg, plead or run. I got tougher, Dugger got softer, sometimes almost catatonic. I would provoke a beating to give him time to escape. Sometimes he did, more often he did not, which made it bad for both of us, but for me it was hell, because he was always first, and I always had to watch, and wait....

They hated him. He was a beautiful, perfect baby with the most angelic smile and a giggle like fairy music. She beat it out of him and eventually made him into her "perfect man" a substance abuser, a hate filled tyrant who chose to fill his life with a mysogynistic, homophobic, racist "church". I bled for him, and would again, willingly, I would do anything to make my baby brother whole again, but he is gone.

I'm so sorry, Dugger. I wanted to save you. I failed.

7 % Or 6%, The Grab/Snatch Tax Is Still Legalized Theft.

Harpo and his cronies have fulfilled their promise of dropping the Goods and Services Tax by one whopping percent.

Woo Hoo, now all those people who can't afford to buy fresh fruit and vegetables for their children, and clothing, transportation or any other basic needs for themselves or their children, can only dream of owning a home, taking a family vacation, providing a decent education for their children, finding a way out of grinding, soul crushing poverty, well now all their problems should be over! Last week every family was promised $100 per child under six per month, if the family applied for this child credit. Now 1% less tax! Look out Kitsalano, all the newly wealthy families from Strathcona will be moving in to your 'hood because of Mister Harper's largesse.

Jerk.

Our little Bush-wannabe sees himself as decisive, hard-nosed and "out there". His recent "gifts" of stolen taxpayer monies is very similar to Bush's returning stolen liberties to prisoners at Gitmo. It wasn't theirs to take (in Harper's defense, one of his distinguished mentors, Brian Mulroney, is to blame) but they act as if they are Santa and God mixed together when they make their ponderous announcements.

Stephen Harper is a nasty little troll who has proven he feels superior to the press, feels that his Ministers and MPs are his puppets, and they will follow the party line, his party line, or find themselves in purgatory. The electorate who caused his status as Prime Minister of the moment is beneath his contempt. God, Pierre Trudeau has returned, but without his style, class, grace and intelligence.

Spring election, anyone. The three billygoats gruff need their bridge keeper back.