Some European Leavings

Best British Tabloid Headline: D’OHLYMPICS

Most Important Thing that the British Can Learn Prior to the Inevitable Arrival of Bird Flu from Across the Channel: Wash Your Hands After Going to the Bathroom! (It’s a concept that seems to have been lost on the Brits)

Most Important Thing that the French Can Learn now that Bird Flu has Arrived: Chicken Really is Better Cooked All the Way Through! (It’s not steak, after all)

Most Important Lesson About Winter that the French Need To Learn: Turn On the Heat, Dammit! It’s Freezing in Here!

Most Shocking Sign of the Impending Collapse of French Civilization: Reruns of Night Rider (with David Hasselhoff) are one of the Most Popular Shows on French TV! (And Charmed Isn’t Far Behind)

Paris en Hiver

What better way to spend a rainy, cold afternoon in Paris than to wander through the labyrinth that is Pere Lachaise cemetery?

Or perhaps the museum of natural history is more your style?

Either way, best to end the day at Le Train Bleu in Gare de Lyon.

More Heart Shaped Candy

Nice to see so many people standing up for Valentine’s Day. Well, sort of...
What follows is a quick response I sent to a friend who took me to task on the “Valentine Schmalentine” article.
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Who me?
Far be it from me to express displeasure with a day dedicated to expressions of romantic love...
Nope. Not me. That article was written by some sarcastic sod on Craig's List. Nothing to do with my current state of thinking…

That said, I did find certain ASPECTS of the article interesting. Something about how the original idea of MUTUAL expressions of love between two people has turned into a rather one-sided ordeal (i.e. one side expects it, the other side digs deep and hopes it's enough to satisfy that rather indefinable expectation).

But seriously, my true feelings about Valentine's Day are similar to those I hold concerning New Years Eve.
People who go all out on New Years tend to be people that don't get out much. They are happy to spend $100 per person to go to some lame bar, watch the same band that played the previous night (for free!), and drink a complimentary glass of Baby Duck at midnight. It's a big night for them because they got to leave the kids with a sitter and play for a night in the big city. It wouldn't be such a big deal if they actually let loose once in a while.
Valentine's Day ends up being much the same. People who lead fairly mundane day to day lives attempt to rekindle something with their partner by spending lots of money at restaurants with inflated "Valentine's Menu" pricing. Or, they get all depressed because they don't do much of anything on Feb 14 and they wonder "where the love went".
I only say this because I think it’s better to maintain a healthy level of romance all year long. It's not a case of me thumbing my nose at a day of romance; it's actually quite the opposite. I say, why restrict it to one day? Why run the risk of having your love marginalized by yet another media hyped consumer cash grab? Instead, fill your year with as many nice dinners (Wild Rice works for me), romantic getaways (I know a great waterfront Inn in Port Townsend), and special treats (I honestly hope I don't need to make any suggestions here) as your budget can withstand. And most of all, it needs to remain a mutual thing. Money's not the equalizer here; it's effort and thoughtfulness.
And there's not a hint of cynicism intended. Well, not a lot, anyhow.

God Loves the BBC

In Manchester, England, the BBC was planning an Easter tribute in which Jesus Christ will sing "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division before joining Judas in a duet of "Blue Monday" by New Order. Later, as Roman soldiers flay him, Jesus will sing "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" by The Smiths.

Valentine Schmalentine

Hey all. I had planned to write a wee rant on how Valentine’s Day is such a complete waste of time. Well, Craiglist rants to the rescue! Some anonymous fellow (this was NOT written by a woman) has done the job for me. Here is his hilarious and accurate rant in its entirety.

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Every guy involved with a woman knows that Valentine's Day is one of those stumbling blocks created for guys to trip over and be reminded that they are dogs, scum, and inconsiderate lizards. If a guy doesn't make Valentine's Day special for the woman he loves then she will remind him of just how inconsiderate, uncaring, forgetful, boorish, unromantic, inattentive .... he is. And she will be able to do this because OBVIOUSLY none of these terrible things apply to women!!!

Women are attentive.
Women are romantic.
Women are loving.
Women are caring.
Women are nurturing
Women are considerate.
blah blah blah....

But the point of this rant is this.. Why is Valentine's Day a stumbling block for MEN ONLY? Lets face the simple fact that on Valentine's Day, if a man does nothing for a woman he is in trouble, whereas, if a woman does nothing for a man, she is NOT in any trouble. Men must fulfill the expectations of their women while women have no expectations foisted upon them.

Is this fair?

If the holiday was called "Valentine's Day for Women" then it would be fair. But its not.
Mother's Day is clearly a day to honor women. Valentine's Day is a day to honor St. Valentine. Who is he?

".. it originated from St. Valentine, a Roman who was martyred for refusing to give up Christianity. He died on February 14, 269 A.D., the same day that had been devoted to love lotteries. Legend also says that St. Valentine left a farewell note for the jailer's daughter, who had become his friend, and signed it "From Your Valentine". Other aspects of the story say that St. Valentine served as a priest at the temple during the reign of Emperor Claudius. Claudius then had Valentine jailed for defying him. In 496 A.D. Pope Gelasius set aside February 14 to honor St. Valentine. Gradually, February 14 became the date for exchanging love messages and St. Valentine became the patron saint of lovers. The date was marked by sending poems and simple gifts such as flowers and candy. There was often a social gathering or a ball. "

You will note the ".. exchanging love messages.." part of the quote meaning "I give something to you.. and you give something to me."

So the obvious conclusions about St. Valentine's Day are that (a) it's a Catholic ONLY Holiday and (b) the most appropriate observance is prayer, not cards, flowers, candy, dinner out, diamonds, furs, jewelry.... or any of the other consumer goods that exist pretty much only to be given by men to women.

But turn to your woman on Valentine's Day and say, "Honey, I said a prayer today to St. Valentine" and she'll say, "You better have prayed that I don't leave your sorry ass!!!! Where's my card, gift, flowers and romantic evening?" And you will never ever hear the end of it!! You will find yourself in that old familiar doghouse (which is really not so bad anymore seeing as how you installed a refrigerator to keep the beer cold since you spend SO MUCH TIME THERE!!!!!)

Now suppose the shoe is on the other foot. You're woman has been working hard and long doing, well, whatever passes for work for women, and suddenly it's Valentine's day. She has forgotten to give you a card, a note, a passing glance in the bathroom... Is she in trouble? Will she be spending any time in her doghouse? Of course not, don't be silly!!!! She was busy!! She justifiably forgot the day, but wasn't it so special that YOU remembered. You did remember didn't you, SCUM!!!!!

So guys, Valentine's Day is a test you MUST pass. It's a necessary event placed there to separate the men from the boys, the strong from the weak, the men who get sex from those who don't. You must enter into it as you would combat.. prepared!!! To help you with that, I've reduced Valentine's Day to a list of thing you ABSOLUTELY must know in order to keep the shine on your armor and the manure off your white charger. Here it is.. The GUYS list of important facts about Valentines Day and how to survive it:

First and foremost .. DO SOMETHING!!!!! This something that you do needs to fit the following criteria....

a) It must be the RIGHT THING.
You must determine, preferably by stealth, and cunning WHAT exactly it is that your woman wants done for her on Valentine's Day. This could be just about anything. It could be strictly symbolic.. as in a card, candy, Mercedes.. or it could be something of real substance.. as in stocks, yachts, small empires. What ever "IT" is, you need to figure that out LONG before Valentine's day actually arrives because casting about clumsily the day before will be a dead give away to your woman that you have blown it for yet another year, and maybe it's time to put that paneling up in the dog house seeing as you are going to have the time there anyway.

b) It must be done at the RIGHT TIME.
Timing is everything when it comes to Valentine's Day!!! Pulling the right gift out at the wrong time will reduce your score by 90% and perhaps garner a penalty. Simply look at this from your lovely ladies point of view.. "Okay.. I'm waiting.. I'm waiting.. I'm waiting.. POP" - That popping sound means you waited too long, and any time from then on means points are being deducted. Like a biological clock, your woman has a Valentine's clock that starts ticking a few days before the actual day. The size of the gift you need to give gets larger and larger the closer this clock gets to zero. Perfect time means she is just a tad anxious and beginning to have those niggling thoughts that maybe you forgot when BAM.. there you are with the PERFECT gift. Allowing her to have that second of doubt makes your gift that much more special and garners you points BIG TIME.

But be very careful... niggling doubts turn into full fledged skepticism.. which transforms into pessimistic anticipation of disappointment.. which quickly degrades into tornado strength rage over being treated so shabby by YOU.. Mr. Slime. Your timing needs to be just right. Blow this and you'll need a storm shelter.

c) It must last the WHOLE DAY.
Once you have made your offering(s) there is still time on the clock for you to blow it. Valentine's day is a minefield from beginning to end. You may believe you are safe once your offering has been given and accepted, but dismount from your white charger too early and you will quickly find yourself standing there doing the usual "What? What did I do?" An example will help illustrate.

The day arrives. You come home from work.. sweep your wife into your arms giving her the warmest most passionate kiss she has had in weeks.. and as you release her from your embrace you suddenly get this surprised look on your face.. patting your pocket you go "Humm.. I wonder what this could be?" as you pull out a small case and pass it to her. She opens it and there are the most perfect diamond earrings she has ever seen.. "Well, these must be for you..", you say smiling and moving in for another kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day Beautiful!!!" you say as you hold her there in the front hall. Later you take her out to dinner at that new restaurant to which only the rich and famous can seem to get reservations, but you managed to pull it off. On leaving the restaurant the valet brings you the wrong car.. a brand new Jaguar, but "Oh, look honey. It's already monogrammed with your name on it!!! We may as well drive it home!!" She looks at you as if you were a SUPERSTAR.. no moment in her life has ever been more special and no man could ever make her as happy as you do. You arrive home and she says she is going slip into something comfortable with that gleam in her eye that says you've earned something special. After a few minutes you walk to the refrigerator because you'd like to have a beer. Hum.. no beer. "Honey, are we out of beer?"

"Is that all you care about?"

"Um.. no.. honey, I was just asking.."

"I'm just a slave for you aren't I? I'm just here to make sure your BEER is kept stocked, aren't I!!!"

"No.. was just wondering.. I didn't mean..

"YOU BASTARD. How could you be so insensitive!!!" boo hoo boo hoo..

And Guess who is sleeping on the couch?! This poor shlep forgot that a woman on Valentine's day is like a woman on her period.. or before her period.. or after her period.. whatever. A woman on Valentine's day is a time bomb. One wrong move and she goes off. Why? Because it's HER DAY, DAMMIT !!! It's your job to make is special for HER... and woe be unto him who fails in the smallest way.

Okay, Now that you know the rules about DOING SOMETHING, the next step is figuring out exactly what to do. This requires amazing skill because part of the value of anything you DO do for your woman on Valentine's day comes from the very fact that it is difficult to discern the right thing to do.

Now, being a man, you might think that the smart thing to do would be to ASK your woman what it is she wants for Valentine's day. This makes complete male logic sense... if someone has information and you want to get at it you ask that person for the information and they give it to you. It's called communication. This logic is, of course completely wrong.

Women claim to be good communicators. It is men who don't know how to communicate. But if you ask a simple questions regarding what they want for Valentines day you will:

a) Not get a truthful answer because...

b) They will be disappointed that you don't know them well enough "just know" the answer without asking and...

c) Lose points in the Valentine's day challenge for having proved your self to be a MAN*

So direct communication is out of the question. But there are lots of ways to determine what your woman is hankering after that will win you points BIG time in the Valentine's day game. Some of these are:

1) Ask her friends. Say to her closest friend, "What would _____ want for Valentine's day that would make things really special for her?" This wins you points in several ways. One, her friends will naturally tell her you asked, and, though she won't tell you she knows, she'll be giving you points. Two, her friends will think better of you which comes in handy for mitigating the inevitable times when you've pulled a boner and she is complaining to them. And three, you might get an answer you can use. DANGER NOTICE: DO NOT use this technique the day before Valentines day because the clock has ticked past the deadline for this tactic and you will lose points with everyone involved.

2) Starting in January, start to pay attention to the flood of catalogs and magazines that are passing through your home. Look at what is marked, what pages are dog-eared, what kinds of ads seem to be left out in the open because, though they know if almost never works, women are constant hint droppers.. it's genetic .. and they always leave clues around about what they want if you are just paying a tad of attention. DANGER NOTICE: If the People magazine is constantly left open to articles about Peirce Brosnan.. well, you’re in trouble, unless you are Peirce Brosnan (in which case, Hi Peirce.. glad you found craigslist)

3) Test the waters... Float a few trial balloons and see which one's make her POP. "Honey, what do you think of the new Lexus?" "Hey baby, I'm thinking of investing in diamonds.. what do you think?" "Wow, look at the deal you can get on these season hockey tickets!!!" Depending on her reactions to these subtle (for a guy) ideas, you'll be able to hone right in on the perfect gift without giving ANYTHING away to your lady. "So, the mauve Jaguar with the leather interior and the gold trim and the 8 cylinder sport package is something anyone would love hum...?"

Is this all starting to sink in... Good, cause I'm tired of stating the obvious, and it's time to conclude...

1) Valentines day is a test which only men can fail.

2) Valentines day is the day on which you will either score or lose big time.. there is no neutral ground.

3) Valentine's day can be conquered with just a little bit of energy.

4) As with all tests.. if you fail you will never hear the end of it, so spend the energy and be the hero.

And finally.. if you’re reading this on Feb 15th then you already know what I'm talking about, and your probably ready to add that addition to the Dog House. Enjoy it.. your going to be there a while.

*MAN - being in this case shorthand for an insensitive, boorish, ham-handed, inconsiderate, lout. You know, a MAN....

Ode To The Seahawks

Darkness had been replaced by a hazy dim light. Thin coatings of ice cracked underfoot as I stepped down off the bank and started to make my way out into the river. The water temperature was frigid, but the air was even colder. My breath formed great billows of mist as I blew on my fingers in a vain attempt to keep them warm. The sun had not yet met the surrounding mountain peaks as I laid my first cast against the far bank. In Detroit, kick-off was still eight hours away. That’s right, I chose to spend the pre-Super Bowl hours fly fishing in a glacial fed river about 1 ½ hours north of Vancouver. At the same time the players were undoubtedly beginning their game day rituals in snowy Michigan, I was chasing the moonlight along a west coast highway, intent on catching first light in the water. We were all praying for our good fortune; the players hoping to catch the top prize in the biggest media event in America, me hoping to catch, and release, a winter run steelhead.

The river was running high due to a series of storms that had dumped over 100 millimeters of rain in the area over the previous several days. Luckily, the water had remained clear. Still, conditions were such that my chances of hooking up were remote. A betting man would not have put much money on me, even given favorable odds.

The Seattle Seahawks were facing a similar challenge. No one gave them much of a chance for success after reviewing the Super Bowl conditions. Pittsburgh was supposed to be the better team, having played a tougher schedule, and the crowd in the stands would be primarily Steeler fans. The betting line rather graciously placed the Seahawks as four point underdogs.

My day on the water passed surprisingly quickly - they all do. The sun rose soon after I began, splashing a brilliant pink over the snow capped peaks. The river had seemed sluggish in the cold, but as the air temperature warmed it brought with it a sense of opportunity. Eagles soared high above, or sat quietly in the tree tops watching me work the water. In the end, they proved to be the only thing interested in what I was doing. The fish, for their part, seemed quite content to ignore the variety of brightly colored flies I cast in their direction.

Perhaps the eagles knew something that I didn’t, because when it was over, I swear I could hear hints of laughter in their calls. Were they aware of some preordained proclamation that had ensured my coming up empty handed? Their playful mocking accompanied me for the several kilometer walk back to my car. It had been a beautiful morning, despite the lack of any tugs on my line. My thoughts turned to football.

Where to start in describing the travesty that was Super Bowl XL? Despite their underdog status, the Seahawks played admirably. They outplayed their supposedly superior opponents for most of the game. Yet, whenever they seemed ready to strike, the opportunity was snatched away. Not by fate, but by the men in stripes. When it was all over, the story line that the NFL had hoped for had come true. Pittsburgh was victorious.

Still, a day later, I can’t seem to shake this feeling that “we was robbed!”. Sound like sour grapes? You bet, and I’m not alone. But don’t take my word for it, read what some of the admittedly pro-Steeler media has to say: http://msn.foxsports.com/nfl/story/5310192. It certainly inhibits the healing process when you know that you've been duped and there's not a damn thing you can do about it...

If the Seahawks can take anything positive out of what may forever be remembered as “Black Sunday”, perhaps it is some sort of satisfaction attained just by having been there? Their main goal was sadly not achieved, but after a thirty year drought, the Seahawks were actually in the Super Bowl. They made it all the way to the big dance, and no one, not even some guy in a striped shirt, can take that away from them. They may not have caught the big prize, but they were there. I just hope they were able to stop and appreciate the sunrise while it was happening.

Of Parrots and Hamas

- QUOTATION OF THE DAY -

"I've asked why nobody saw it coming. It does say something about us not having a good enough pulse."
- CONDOLEEZZA RICE, on Hamas's victory in Palestinian elections.

Can you believe this? I mean, where do I start? Nobody saw it coming? Nobody? Baby, that’s not even a weak pulse, that’s absolutely no pulse at all. That parrot is dead. Finished. Deceased. The only reason anyone could be fooled into thinking that American foreign intelligence is still alive would be because you’ve nailed its f*cking feet to the perch!

For those of you not paying attention, this is big stuff. Around the world Hamas is generally considered to be a terrorist organization sworn to Israel's destruction. As the NY Times put it “…an election victory by the militant group Hamas … has reduced to tatters crucial assumptions underlying American policies and hopes in the Middle East.”

There were all sorts of interesting sub-plots leading up to this election, including the US Administration backing of the Fatah Party, including American led “assistance” to the Palestinians totaling over a billion dollars per year. Recently, Israel called for the US to boycott the elections if Hamas was allowed to run as an “armed” party. The US decided to back the elections anyway, placing their faith in the credo that democracy always leads to a just end.

Unfortunately for the US, it turns out that happiness isn’t the only thing money can’t buy. It seems that it can’t buy an election in the Middle East, either. But the million dollar question still remains: With all of their foreign intelligence and military expertise, why didn’t anybody in the US administration see this coming?

To provide some insight, perhaps it would be useful to look back into the not too distant past, to a time when American foreign policy also had US troops occupying a hostile nation? There have been plenty of comparisons made between the Iraq and Vietnam “wars” in current media. Perhaps there were some “lessons learned” back then that could help with the world the US faces today?

Now admittedly, I don’t actually remember the Vietnam War. My closest memory is of my parents not letting me out of the car on one of our family holidays to the Canadian west coast because there were “draft dodging hippies” on the beach. Hence, I’m not a very reliable historical resource. But thanks to a recent documentary film, the information is out there for all to see, if we care to take the time to watch.

I’m referring to the film “The Fog of War - Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara”. It’s a remarkable film in that the narration is provided by McNamara himself. Who better to tell it like it was? He uses the events that occurred while he was Secretary of Defense in the Kennedy and Johnson administrations to outline eleven rules that he feels are essential to preventing similar events from ever occurring again.

It’s not very far into the movie that he reveals the crucial point:
Movie lesson number 1 - Empathize with your enemy. He’s not saying sympathize, as in feel sorry for, but empathize, meaning to understand. It’s not a difficult concept. Know your enemy. We’ve all heard it before. However, it is apparently a very difficult concept to apply. He feels that a lack of understanding of the Vietnamese people led to very inappropriate decisions by him and his administrations. The results were, as we all know, horrific.

Years later history repeats itself. America wonders why the people of Iraq aren’t more appreciative of US efforts to bring freedom and democracy to their Middle Eastern nation. And now, the Palestinians unexpectedly elect a militant group that stands to destroy everything that America has been working to accomplish in the Middle East. The Bush administration is left to scratch their collective heads.

Condoleezza Rice suggests it came as a surprise because they did not understand the hostilities the Palestinian people had towards their previous leaders. I suspect they didn’t bother to try and understand the Palestinians, preferring to place confidence in the rather naïve ideology that “democracy wins over evil every time”.

In “The Fog of War”, McNamara is unwilling to outright apologize for the events that took place in Vietnam and Japan, yet he is obviously haunted by the role he played in their unfolding. I’m not sure if it has occurred to those in the Bush administration just what sort of legacy they are in the process of leaving behind. The more they choose to ignore the lessons learned in the past, the easier it must be for them to forge on, blindly following their own ideals.

Conservative Blues

It’s two days after the big federal election here in Canada, and as the dust settles, some voting patterns are starting to emerge. Most of them are pretty standard stuff, like the majority of seats in Quebec went to separatists (oops, I mean sovereigntists – that really sounds so much less confrontational), and the party based in Alberta swept Alberta. But, the pattern making most of the headlines in Canada, and dominating water cooler conversations everywhere, is this – the right wing conservative party (that won a minority government) didn’t win a single seat in any of Canada’s three largest cities. That’s right, no Conservatives in Montreal, Toronto or Vancouver.

So, what does this mean? I’ve heard all sorts of theories, from “city folk are too intellectual to be suckered in by the Conservatives and their hidden agenda”, to “only people in small communities are naïve enough to buy in to the GST reduction scheme.”

I have a different theory, and it goes something like this: Canada is not all that different from the USA. We Canadians like to wallow in our smug state of condescendence as we gaze to the south and claim cerebral superiority over our neighbors. Well guess what folks? It ain’t so.

We all laughed at the map of the US, with all that red in the middle and a strip of blue down either side. We sent around copies of the front page from England’s Daily Mirror with a headline asking “How could 90 some-odd million Americans be so stupid?” It was all great fun.

So Canada, the shoe is now firmly on the other foot, and although Stephen Harper is not exactly George Dubya (at least we hope not), there are still some striking similarities. He opposes bans on handguns, he’s against gay marriage and abortion, and there’s that little thing about how if he had been leading the country several short years ago, our troops would be dieing over in Iraq “defending freedom”. At least we know that our governing party would have been praying for them.

About the only difference I see at the moment is that Canada, just to be different, has labeled the left red, and the right blue. So now that map of “The United States of Canada vs. Jesusland” is all screwed up. I suppose we call the left red because it is closer to pinko, as in commie. And I suppose they call the right red because it’s, well, right, and that has a nice ring to it. Either way, if they adopted our color scheme (or we adopted theirs), the result would be the same. Jesusland just got a whole lot bigger!

Feedback: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugh!

Well Hallelujah, it finally happened! After months of ramblings and musings on these pages, something has struck a chord with you the readers. Surprising to me, it wasn’t anything about God, natural disasters, politics or even guns. No, it was a piece on people acting ignorantly, and it drew more emotional responses than anything I had written previously. Comments ranged from something on the order of “Right on, high fives and cokes all around!” to an anonymous entry accusing me of being a “self-anointed superior jackass”.

So which is it? In case you didn’t read the piece, or for those too lazy to scroll down and check it out, it was a description of a guided night-time walk down an exquisite beach in Costa Rica to observe leatherback turtles laying eggs. I was struck by how our group seemed completely disinterested in the special and rare experience we were sharing, preferring to blab on and on about unrelated mundane fluff. The final conclusion that I drew was "if you don’t have something of value to add to such a situation, please don’t feel the need to fill the night air with inane chatter." Or something like that...

A bit harsh? Perhaps, but it stems from a rather strongly held belief of mine that as individuals we owe it to ourselves, to our fellow human beings and to the earth itself to wake up and pay attention. I’m not asking a lot, yet imagine if every one of us dedicated a small portion of our thinking, say 10%, to something that matters. If we could just step outside the reality television fast food culture long enough to take stock of what’s going on around us, I’m convinced the world would be a better place. Instead, the bulk of the population chooses to live life with blinders on, unwilling to look beyond their own immediate experience.

Costa Rica provides a classic example of what I mean. It’s a beautiful, fascinating place, full of culture, nature and, of course, surfing. No wonder it is one of the top tourist destinations in the world. However, as more and more foreigners are attracted to the place, many deciding to move there, the result isn’t so much a celebration of Costa Rica as it is an exercise in modern-world mediocrity.

The beachfront of Tamarindo is becoming increasingly crowded with hotels, and the surrounding hillsides are now dotted with condo developments. It’s bound to happen in such a desirable location, and brings much needed money to the local economy. But why is it that it also brings Pizza Hut, Burger King, Subway and the never ending list of usual suspects? These places have all set up shop yet Tamarindo doesn’t even have any paved roads, let alone reliable plumbing and electricity. Don’t people go somewhere exotic to get away from the local strip mall, or do we really need to surround ourselves with the familiar, no matter the locale?

I suppose Tamarindo is turning into a full blown resort and the influx of Wal-Mart et al is inevitable. But come on people, leave the craving for a Big Mac at home, and experience the flavor of another culture!

For those wanting to avoid the crowds of Tamarindo, Nosara is pure nirvana. For many years a remote backpackers destination attracting no one but surfers, Nosara has grown enough to boast a few hotels and some restricted services. Surfing is still the only game in town, but the land is being rapidly snatched up by foreign money. The locals get a kick out of how suddenly the courts are crammed, as gringos contribute modern ideas to their village by attempting to sue the pants off each other. Unfortunately, another trend is appearing, that of foreigners using the courts to push out the locals, whose close proximity apparently lowers the property values.

All of this results from self centeredness and ignorance. We wear blinders so we don’t feel responsible for our actions. Returning to the leatherback turtle scene, I’m struck by the very same attitudes. I wasn’t chastising people for socializing around the pool. People can fill their leisure time with whatever they please. But, strolling along Playa Grande, I was hoping to get just a sense that people in our group were able to recognize the rare beauty that we were sharing, and to understand how endangered it is. Instead, all I saw were people unable or unwilling to leave “Sex In The City” behind for just an hour. And to me, that’s inexcusable.

That’s just my opinion, and that’s why there’s feedback. Keep it coming, regardless of whether you like it, or you think I’m a jackass. I’ll do my best to keep you interested, or furious.

Today's Moment of Zen

In Utah a 13-year-old girl who became pregnant by her 12-year-old boyfriend was ruled a sex offender. The 12-year-old boy was also ruled a sex offender. "It's a paradox," said the girl's attorney.

Inane Chatter

Hello all. Sorry for the delay in updating the Digglings, but I’ve been off in Costa Rica with my sister avoiding the West Coast winter rains. Now, one may think that such a holiday would have lead to several blog entries about endless sunshine and glorious surfing, and that may yet happen. But not now. First, I need to blow off some steam, for I have witnessed countless scenarios that leave me convinced of the ongoing decline of civilization and the impending end to our society as a whole.

My next few entries will discuss some of these observations. The following is the first. I call it:

Inane Chatter

Now come on people. If you’re stupid you should be self conscious about it, not broadcast it at full volume for all the world to hear!

There’s a classic scene in Jim Jarmusch’s film “Broken Flowers” where Bill Murray is riding a bus from an airport terminal to the rental car lot. Sitting across from him are two teenage girls engaged in the most mindless banter imaginable. The look on his face alone is worth the price of admission. He sports a slight grin all the while conveying a sense of absolute exasperation and complete disdain. In the end, however, you can tell he understands because, after all, they are just teenage girls.

If inane banter was restricted to teenage girls, I’d be OK with it, too. They go hand in hand, right down to the incessant repetition of “like” and “oh my god”. My problem is that mindless dialogue appears to be an outbreak of epidemic proportions, affecting every last man, woman and child in America. And they insist on shoving it in your face.

Case in point. Our last night in Costa Rica we went on a guided moonlight stroll down “Playa Grande” to witness a true wonder of nature, leatherback turtles laying eggs in the sand. It’s an incredible spectacle.

Leatherbacks are the largest turtles in the world, some measuring over three feet wide and five feet long. The females struggle up onto the beach at high tide in the dark, and deposit up to 70 eggs into a trench that they dig with their rear flippers. Not long ago, the beach would have been home to over 200 turtles a night going through this process. Today, the average is around three per night, and the overall turtle populations are dwindling fast. The reason is, of course, man’s interference with the turtle’s environment.

In an effort to preserve the leatherback turtles, Costa Rica has designated Playa Grande as a nature preserve, and only a limited number of guided trips are permitted on the beach at night. So, Beth and I signed up and joined a group of about thirty tourists eager to experience the spectacle.

Picture this – you’re part of the only group walking along an otherwise empty 2 ½ mile stretch of pristine beach. The moon has yet to rise, but the sheer abundance of stars cast enough light that you can actually see your shadow. The surf crashes noisily, occasionally splashing your bare feet with warm tropical water as you expectantly approach a leatherback turtle.

Sounds absolutely magical, yes?

Well, it should have been, but it wasn’t. How could such an otherwise perfect occasion be ruined? You guessed it, with stupid, brainless, dim-witted, inane chatter. Our group of thirty individuals came from all over North America, and the one thing they had in common was that they just wouldn’t shut up. It was absolutely mind-boggling.

Like all interactions while abroad, it starts with the absurd mantra of the American tourist, “ Where y’all from?”. The question itself isn’t at issue, it’s the intent. You see, people who ask that question really aren’t interested in where you’re from. They’re initiating a conversation because they’re interested in telling you where they’re from! It’s a time worn tradition. Some profusely sweating perfect stranger blurts out the dreaded question from across a bus or on the street, and before you can say “Canada”, he or she interrupts you to fill you in on everything you didn’t want to know about Tuba City, Arizona. (I didn’t make that up, honest!) And, unless you’re particularly rude, the endless diatribe of gibberish picks up from there.

Our walk along Playa Grande in the starlight was no different. The poor Costa Rican guide finally gave up on trying to fill us in on local lore, because he was continuously drowned out by a barrage of increasingly voluminous idiodicy. It was like a contest. Not to be outdone by a school girl complaining that her legs were going to be sore from this epic hike, a college girl started to loudly complain to her mother that her roommate’s boyfriend wouldn’t let she and some girls watch Sex In The City DVDs because Monday Night Football was on. She was infuriated, and apparently wanted all of us to feel her pain.

And on it went for the entire half hour it took us to get to the turtle. Whatever fleeting thought that leapt into each individual’s mind was immediately blurted out for all to hear. Calling it vacuous is giving it too much credit.

Even worse were the questions that people asked the guide after we had spent 15 minutes watching the turtle lay her eggs. The guide had been adamant that we keep silent while in close proximity to the turtle, a task which I’m sure was torture for our group. We then moved about a hundred feet away so the guide could field questions. I was more appalled than during the walk. I’m convinced that people only ask questions so they can hear themselves talk. It has absolutely nothing to do with learning. It has everything to do with exposing oneself as a complete imbecile.

In my mind, our guide showed Herculean restraint. Check out some of these questions:

“What color are the eggs?” What?!? You mean the white eggs you were just looking at less than 30 seconds ago?
“What size are the eggs?” Once again, we’re discussing the eggs you just saw. They were mere inches from your nose. There was no illusion of any kind going on, so if they looked to be just slightly larger than a golf ball, then they are probably just slightly larger than a golf ball.

The questions were fired at the guide faster than he could answer them. But, I had the utmost confidence in his ability to answer all of them because he had already told us the answers in his preamble talk before we started walking. People were making up questions to information that they had already heard. What size is the turtle? Why is it called a leatherback? How many eggs does it lay? Unbelievable! Each and every one of us had a hand-out that the guide had read to us before we started, and the answer to EVERY question that was asked was on the handout.

Every question, that is, except one. And it is with that question that I will end this rant. A rather slight, spectacled, middle aged fellow had been silent for most of the question answer period, but towards the end he had to prove to all of us that he held knowledge that was exclusive to the rest. With a nervous giggle, he asked the guide about how long “the act” took between the male and female turtle. The guide said he wasn’t sure. So, in front of the whole group, including children, the man started to describe to us in great detail that it went on for a really, really long time. Perhaps not as long as it took for him to tell us, but for a really long time just the same. His long winded answer to his own question was often punctuated by Mr. Burns style laughter, leading me to believe that at least one member of our group wasn’t a total idiot. Certifiably insane yes, but not necessarily an idiot.

Today's Moment of Zen

Researchers studying the drug content of the River Po in Italy concluded that the 5 million people living in the river’s vicinity must consume about 200,000 lines of cocaine per day.

Stop Don't Go Traffic

Oh to be the guy who sells traffic lights to the city of Vancouver! He must be making money hand over fist. This holiday season, who needs Christmas lights? We’ve already got plenty of flashing red and green lights for as far as the eye can see!

For those of you fortunate enough to not have to drive Vancouver city streets each day, let me explain. Back in the early 70’s, Vancouver city planners made a conscious decision not to build freeways. Their vision was one of a city with lots of green space, minimal cars and effective transit. Considering Vancouver’s idyllic location on the west coast, I’d say that wasn’t a bad idea.

However, there is a not-so subtle difference between vision and implementation, and Vancouver is a textbook example of how the one doesn’t necessarily lead to the other. In fact, it more closely resembles an example of how bright ideas can get totally screwed up.

The original plan was to discourage people from commuting by making driving in the city as frustrating as possible while at the same time providing efficient and cost effective transportation alternatives. Pretty simple, really. If driving is a pain, people will take another option.

Well, they got it half right. Driving in Vancouver is indeed a pain. You can’t get anywhere quickly because all the roads are clogged city streets. There are no freeways or thoroughfares. Moreover, there are hardly any left hand turn lanes or advance turn signals! As a result, rush hour lasts from 7 AM to 7 PM.

Of course, making life hell for drivers was the easy part of the plan. The city has saved a bundle on highway construction (there is none) and has obviously put no money or even thought into improving the infrastructure of existing roads. About all they seem to have done is to initiate a plan whereby traffic lights are being installed at every single intersection in the city. It’s infuriating in its idiodicy, but it sure adds to the goal of snarling traffic and exasperating drivers. Good job on task one city planners!

Meanwhile, the city collects some of the highest civic taxes in the country. Now, it was my understanding that the reasoning behind the high taxes was that the city was going to build a world class public transit system. Remember that part of the plan? The bit about effective and efficient alternatives? Instead, the city appears to be spending the money talking about building a world class public transit system. Apparently, talk doesn’t come cheap here on the west coast. So, while city planners talk, the number of cars on the road multiplies like rabbits, and drivers have an increasing number of stop lights where they can get out of their cars and clobber their fellow motorists with golf clubs.

On a recent trip to Seattle, I heard that they are looking to Vancouver as a model for the redevelopment of their downtown core. I hope they’ve stocked up on traffic lights.

To The Polls We Go!

Well folks, it has finally happened. The Liberal Government has folded like the house of cards it always was, imploding from an abundance of corruption the likes of which have only been observed in, well, most other governments.

It’s big news, too. The “Daily Show with John Stewart” led with the story last night, and dedicated a whole 5 minutes to a Bob and Doug McKenzie style Canadian roast. They called Paul Martin a hoser, and got a Canadian to say “out” and “about”. Man, that gag never gets old, does it? Even CNN had a 20 second spot on the Canadian political turmoil. They had it sandwiched between two other newsworthy topics; something about a heroic cat that helped its obese owner to escape a burning apartment, and an informative look at the upcoming season of The Apprentice (this time it’s filmed in LA!).

It’s true that the Liberals have been in power for so long that their flippancy resembles that of an African tin pot dictator dressing up as a woman to avoid being busted at a hotel, but in reality they’re no more corrupt than governments in other countries. For example, while I was working on a job in Panama during the Florida Election Scandal (round 1), the Panamanians expressed disbelief in America’s apparent shock at the shenanigans. “In Panama, we simply accept that all politicians are crooks. That way we’re never disappointed, and it’s an unending source of amusement!” They even offered to send a team of election observers to the US to ensure that true democracy was upheld.

However, there’s perhaps more to this story than just the collapse of a minority government in Canada. The pollsters are already predicting that in January Canadians will elect yet another minority government, and I think we may as well get used to it. Here’s why. We’ve got a lot of federal political parties in Canada, with four legitimate parties leading the way, a couple of potential contenders close on their heels, and scores of others trying to achieve official political party status. With the varied interests of the provinces and territories across Canada, it’s doubtful that we could all agree on one party.

Take a quick glance at the typical distribution of votes for the top four, and you’ll see what I mean. Ontario has the most seats in the nation, and they tend to vote for whatever party promises to wring lots of taxpayer dollars out of the other Provinces and build freeway extensions around Toronto and Ottawa. That party is the Liberal Party. Quebec, and their ridiculous number of seats (considering their decreasing population), will always vote for The Bloc. It’s never enough seats to win a majority, but it’s enough to occasionally be anointed as the official opposition. Imagine that, a federal political party whose only real mandate is to separate the Province of Quebec from the Country of Canada. How that is even legal is beyond me. So, the rest of Canada is forced to fend for itself and vote for whoever Ontario doesn’t, and that leaves the Conservative Party and the NDP. Those parties bicker among themselves and more or less split the votes west of Ontario. Occasionally, they even win the odd seat in Ontario. The Atlantic Provinces don’t count. Sorry.

What does this all mean? It means that I’d be amazed if we ever see a majority government in Canada again. There are other parties gaining momentum as well, such as the Green Party and the Party of Yogic Flyers. As those parties become mainstays of the Canadian political scene, the votes will become spread out even further. The chances of one party being elected with a clear majority may very well be a thing of the past.

But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Look at Europe, and some of the election patterns that have occurred there for many years. The Italians haven’t had a majority government for decades. The “winning” political party rarely receives more than 30% of the vote, and the governing body usually consists of a rag-tag coalition of sorts. Now, Italian politicians can hardly be help up as pillars of their vocation, but coalition governments do tend to have one thing going for them – they keep the government honest. I know, I know, calling an Italian government honest is a contradiction in terms, but just imagine if one party actually won an election in Italy. The resulting payola would make the sponsorship scandal and the gun registry look like the change jar on grandma’s bedside table.

Coalition governments can also result in strange bedfellows, like the current situation in Germany. The coalition parties may not like each other very much, but to remain in power, they have to cooperate. This often results in less extreme government.

What do all these countries, including Canada, have in common? They have more than two official federal political parties. The two party system is a topic for another day, but let me leave you with this. In the US, most of the big corporations make large campaign contributions to both parties. So, when either party is elected, and it will by definition be a majority victory, who is really calling the shots? Perhaps if the voters had more options, and the nation spent a few terms with coalitions formed by parties representing more diverse interests, the corporate stranglehold would be loosened. Perhaps.

Today's Moment of Zen

Cree Indian Chief: "If I did not know about God and sin, would I go to hell?"
Priest: "No, not if you did not know."
Cree Indian Chief: "Then why did you tell me?"

Liberal Party Antics

Or, The Gomery Report for Americans

When people outside of Canada think of a liberal party, they think of a room full of flakey hippies smoking grass and experimenting with free love. In other words, Democrats. Fair enough. In Canada, the term liberal has taken on a whole new meaning. That’s because the federal political party that has been in power for as long as anyone can remember is called “The Liberal Party”. They aren’t so much left leaning or even right leaning, but instead tend to stay centralized, collecting huge quantities of taxpayer’s dollars while trying their best not to rock the boat.

This model has proved to be quite successful for them, that is until recently. Over the last several years, the Liberals have participated in some “back room shenanigans” that even typically apathetic Canadians are getting worked up about. The outcome may very well be that the general population decides to put down their beers, stand up and call for the resignation of the governing party! Or not. Either way, it’s made for some pretty interesting headlines, and is worth some further discussion.

But first, a little background for those readers located south of the border in the great US of A. (Readers in Canada or any other country that recognizes life beyond its own borders, feel free to skip ahead) There is a large land mass north of the 49th parallel. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe because any map of the USA that’s made in America shows nothing but a great void up north. But the land mass is real. I can prove it. I live there. The great land mass is called North America. The country that occupies that land is called Canada.

French Whine
In Canada we have both English and French speaking people. The English live pretty well everywhere, while the French are all clustered in Quebec (and Provincial capitals, but that’s a really long story to be saved for another time). The dual language system in Canada is called bilingualism, and the government tells us it works really well.

A decade or so ago, the French people in Quebec felt unloved and tried to separate from Canada. They voted on it in a referendum, and the “let’s split” vote failed by the slimmest of margins. The French blamed the loss on non-French people living in Quebec. They have since been doing their best to make non-French people feel extra unwelcome, so that there will be fewer of them around when Quebec has its next referendum. Referendums are a fairly regular occurrence in Quebec. It’s a French thing.

Anyhow, the Government of Canada is made up of people from all over the country. However, those in the positions that have some power are primarily French speaking. It’s hard to explain why, but it’s related to bilingualism and that provincial capital phenomena I mentioned earlier - a balance of power sort of thing. So, for those in power, English is usually their second language. This explains why whenever you see a Canadian politician on American television (which only ever happens on South Park), they sound like Pepe LePew. It also explains why Canadian politicians have lots of close ties to businesses in Quebec.

At What Cost Unity?
Several years ago, the Canadian Liberal government decided that Canada really needs Quebec. As a result, the government has poured hundreds of millions of dollars into Quebec to try to convince them not to have another referendum. The government calls this a sponsorship program, and like bilingualism, the government tells us it works really well.

But, who does it in fact work really well for? (This is where it gets really interesting. Those readers who skipped ahead earlier should start paying attention again.) The sponsorship money goes to organizations in Quebec that are best positioned to promote Canada, organizations like consulting firms, marketing groups and brothels (they’re legal in Quebec – life’s actually not so bad there). And, of course, these organizations all happen to be run by “associates” of Liberal government officials.

So far, none of this should have raised any eyebrows (except for maybe the brothels, which have been known to raise more than eyebrows). After all, efforts to keep the country united could only have the best interests of all Canadians at heart, right? Even so, one day it occurred to some non-Liberal Party individuals that it was time to investigate this “perfectly legitimate government business” being done “strictly for the good of the country”. They began by comparing a list of those in Quebec who received government sponsorship money to a list of the biggest monetary supporters of the federal Liberal Party. The lists were practically identical. Hence, the Liberal Party was getting huge campaign contributions from groups that had first received buckets of federally collected tax dollars.

Gomery To The Rescue!
The implications were enormous. Money laundering is illegal, after all, and a government caught doing so had better be prepared for taxpayer revolt. That was the situation in Canada. It was a scandalous scenario, requiring immediate, hardnosed action. In typical Canadian fashion, when the going gets tough and we are facing a battle we form a committee, and the sponsorship scandal was no exception . In this case we appointed a committee of one – Justice John Gomery. Mr. Gomery was handed the unenviable task of getting to the bottom of all the sponsorship intrigue. His first task? He’d need to learn how to speak French. The rest would be easy.

Still, committee work is grueling, requiring long hours and many months, which is just what the Liberal Party was counting on. Another Canadian trademark in addition to forming committees is apathy, and the Liberals were counting on the Canadian public to be so distracted by the resumption of hockey that the findings of the inquiry would pass unnoticed.

Well, Mr. Gomery’s findings were released a week ago in a document aptly entitled “The Gomery Report”. Unfortunately for the Liberals, Canadians have one more trademark, that of multitasking. So, despite our fervent passion for the return of “the good old hockey game”, Canadians were equally fervent in our disdain for what the Gomery report exposed.

The Gomery inquiry had involved countless interviews with everyone from current and past Prime Ministers (for those of you in red states, the Prime Minister is the Canadian version of the President), to CEOs of Quebec corporations. The complete and utter disrespect for the Canadian public displayed by the government officials was astounding, although not completely out of character for politicians. Our past Prime Minister (OK America, fifty points to the first person who can actually name our last PM) was callous enough to ask:
“What’s a few million doll-airs ‘ere and zhair? Zee government budget is very big. ‘Ow could we possibly keep track of every few million doll-airs?”
But hey, at least he was telling the truth, sort of. The rest of our elected officials claimed with an air of Bart Simpson smugness “I didn’t do it!” This is in itself puzzling, because it suggests they all knew it was going on but claimed they didn’t know who was doing it. I call it the Bill Clinton technique - deny, deny, deny…and pray there’s no photographic evidence.

If the politicians were playing the arrogant and innocent cards, their Quebec counterparts were trying to trump them with the “stupidity” card. There was the president of a Quebec marketing firm who saw revenues jump from $85,000 one year to $1.8 million the following. The money was reputed to have come from the Government of Canada, but the paper trail was a bit fuzzy (probably because it was all in French). There was no record of where the money went. The company hadn’t hired any new employees or moved into a bigger location. They hadn’t even printed T-shirts with “Canada Allons Zee!” (Let’s Go Canada!) on them. When asked if he had any recollection of any of this, the best the president under investigation could muster was a Reagan-esque “I don’t remember…”, which is a phrase that Justice Gomery became quite familiar with while interviewing folks from Quebec.

The End Of The Liberal Era?
Stories like these abound in the Gomery report, and we Canadians are really mad at the Liberal Party. To fuel the fire, the CBC, our national news service, has posted the entire report on its Website. None of us have actually read it, but we’re mad just knowing it’s there. We’re so mad that we plan to wait around and see what the other Canadian political parties plan to do about it.

Right now, the other parties are sort of thinking of calling an election, but if they do, they don’t want it to interfere with Christmas. We Canadians love the holiday season. Why spoil it with bringing down a corrupt political party? So, if there actually is an election, it will probably occur in the Spring, an appropriate time for renewal. That’s when we’ll all head back to the polls and, yet again, vote Liberal.

The Gras is Always Greener, Unless it’s Foie

Who’s more powerful, a saint or a knight?  Now, I’m not talking about just any old saint or knight, I mean the guys presently at the top of the heap, the current crème de la crème, as it were.  In today’s world, the most powerful saint has got to be The Pope.  He talks directly to God, after all.  And if you took a straw poll around the office, I’d bet the winner of the knights contest would be Sir Paul McCartney.  If nothing else, he at least thinks he’s a god.

What would happen if it weren’t a contest at all, if instead these two powerhouses decided to pool their collective strength together for a noble cause of some sort?  They would certainly be a formidable “God Squad”.  

The fact of the matter is, they have already teamed up.  Not only that, they have brought in a little earthly muscle, just in case.  Yes, even Arnold Schwarzenegger is on board for this the mightiest of modern crusades.  In a day and age where the world has seen genocide, famine, natural disasters and unjust wars, those closest to God (and Arnie, too) have brought it upon themselves to stand up for that most noble of beasts – the goose.  That’s right, forget about human suffering, our crusaders are out to put an end to the agony of the goose.  They are campaigning for a world wide boycott of foie gras.

For those of you unfamiliar with foie gras, it is a traditional French pate made from the liver of a goose.  The more fat in and around the liver, the more absolutely dreamy the pate becomes.  Needless to say, the temptation arises to “help the goose out” when it comes time to put on a few extra inches.  It is the sometimes crude methodology involved in this process that has caught the attention of the God Squad.

Let’s start with the saint.  Not long ago, Pope Benedict XVI, then known as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, was asked about his thoughts on the treatment of animals.  He responded with compassion and called animals our "companions in creation."  He also went on to say:
"we cannot just do whatever we want with them. ... Certainly, a sort of industrial use of creatures, so that geese are fed in such a way as to produce as large a liver as possible…this degrading of living creatures to a commodity seems to me in fact to contradict the relationship of mutuality that comes across in the Bible."

Uh Benny, where on Earth did you read that?  It's common knowledge that God created man in his own image.  The goose was created in the image of a very distant (and somewhat estranged) cousin whose name escapes even the enlightened writings of the Gospels.  Animals were put on earth to serve man, or at least to be served to man, preferably with a lovely Sauterne.

Or so I thought, until Sir Paul came on the scene.  A recent BBC headline caught my eye: “Sir Paul McCartney urges California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger to ban the French delicacy foie gras”.  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it’s true.  Read it for yourself at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/1/hi/entertainment/music/3685602.stm

How can I argue with Sir Paul?  I suppose, there’s no other recourse than to have a change of heart. Let’s make up for all those years of goose torture, primarily by the evil French, and raise the standard of living for all geese.  Their lives shall be spent roaming the lushest of fields, and sleeping in air controlled comfort on nothing but the finest goose-down silk pillows... Or maybe not.

So why all the fuss?  It wasn’t that long ago that no one outside of France other than members of the foreign legion knew what foie gras was.  In fact, most North Americans can’t pronounce it, let alone know what it is.  It has only been in very recent memory that foie gras has become a mainstay on the menu of any restaurant that also marks up its wine by 300%.  

And that in itself is essentially the problem.  Demand for the super creamy, irresistible stuff has flown the coup, so to speak.  Once a delicacy reserved for French aristocracy, foie gras is now sought after world wide.  The demand has far surpassed the supply that can be produced by a few farms in the Dordogne.  Thus, industrial foie gras production facilities have appeared, many of them in Eastern European countries.  The conditions in these facilities are truly horrific, beginning to rival their North American counterpart, the modern chicken farm.

In the end, that’s what irks me the most about this passionate cry for goose rights.  At the urging of Sir Paul, Arnie is currently calling for a ban on foie gras in California.  I wonder if either of these do-gooders has visited a chicken facility lately?  They don’t even have to go that far.  There’s lots of information right at their (and our) fingertips.  One example is AnimalConcerns.org, which has a whole section dedicated to chicken farms.  Some of the depictions of beakless, steroid stuffed chickens penned in three to a cage seem more appropriate in a horror flick.  Yet, I don’t see the Paul and Arnie show calling for a ban on Kentucky Fried Chicken!  And last I checked, there are a hell of a lot more chicken farms around the world than goose facilities.

Maybe “Team Terminator” should use their connections to divinity to tackle the bigger issues in their own back yards.  Ah, but then again, that’s not good for business or politics.  Best to point across the pond and yell “Fowl!”  Oh, and can I get two dozen wings with that?

Gunplay American Style

The headlines were as big as Texas south of the border today - Congress Passes New Legal Shield for Gun Industry. President Bush said that he looked forward to signing the bill, which would "further our efforts to stem frivolous lawsuits." "As of Oct. 20, the Second Amendment is probably in the best shape in this country that it's been in decades," exclaimed Wayne Lapierre, of the National Rifle Association.

Now, some may claim that certain ramblings on these pages have leaned a little to the left, which I have to admit is probably accurate. So it would only be natural to expect this entry to be a rather long winded rant expressing disgust at yet another right wing atrocity.

Well, the last thing I want around here at Dave’s Digglings is predictability, so mothers cover your children’s ears ‘cause I’m saddling up and rootin’ for Texas! Despite the fact that I’m not a big fan of the NRA (“Guns don’t kill people, people kill people?” Give me a break! In the words of Eddie Izzard, “I think the gun helps…”), I can’t really argue with this one. In fact, the basic premise of the argument applies to a number of hot topics in today’s media, including cigarettes and obesity. But, let’s stick to our guns for the moment.

The intent of the bill is to prevent people from trying to sue gun manufacturers for manufacturing guns. That’s it – plain and simple. There are a number of cases currently in the courts in the US where victims of horrible crimes are trying to prevent the same from happening to others. I applaud their efforts, but their method is flawed. They are taking action against gun manufacturers because guns are used to murder people.

Murder must be a most horrible experience for the victim’s loved ones. I say must be because I can only imagine. It would be wonderful if there was a way to prevent guns from getting into the hands of murderers in the first place. The murderer-to-be would be a lot less effective if he was restricted to jumping out in front of his victims and yelling “bang!” (thanks again Eddie). Yet, that doesn’t give anyone the right to take it out on the manufacturer of the weapon.

Hair spray and aerosol deodorant can be used to launch potentially lethal projectiles from home made devices. No matter how much we all feel that hairspray should be just as illegal as fifty year old people wearing spandex, you can’t sue Clairol because Jim-bob knocked out your dog with a potato gun. (OK, that’s not really an applicable argument because the hairspray is not being used as intended, but I just couldn’t resist the gag.)

The real issue is this - it is not illegal for a gun manufacturer to make a gun. Yes, guns can kill and hand guns can be concealed, but in the US making the gun is not against the law. If there was a law in place that said a gun manufacturer would be held liable for how their product was used, I suspect they’d quickly get out of the business and start making some much less deadly products, like cigarettes or fatty foods, for example. But as it stands today, you can’t sue someone if you don’t have the grounds to do so, or at least you shouldn’t be able to, and that’s what this new bill states.

However, to those trying to find a way to reduce the number of crime related fatalities in the US, I say don’t give up just yet. All you need is to come up with a different approach, one that involves changing the psyche of the entire nation. Somehow, you’ll have to find a way to rip the assault weapons and mini death pistols from the dead cold hands of the NRA, and convince the law makers that such items have no place in today’s society. And that will be no easy task in a nation where it is considered perfectly normal to teach pre-schoolers how to “play” with guns.

I Am A Steelheader

And you thought marathoners were a strange breed. Ha! Think again! For there is in fact a group of even odder, potentially more driven, and equally insane individuals in our midst. They can be found lurking about in the most inclement of fall and winter months, usually standing waist deep in cold, large rivers, all in an attempt to attract a steelhead to take a well presented fly. These outcasts of society are called Steelheaders. I should know, for I am one of them.

A steelhead is a sea going rainbow trout. Like a salmon, it begins life in a river, but spends its maturing years in the ocean. Both species return to the river after one to four years at sea in order to spawn. However, a salmon only spawns once. You could say it sacrifices its life for sex, which in the end, isn’t all that exciting or amorous for a salmon. The female “fakes it” in order to trick a male into satisfying himself over her eggs, and that’s about it. Once that’s over, both the male and female die. Hmmmm, I’ve always said we could learn a thing or two from the animal kingdom. Paying attention boys?

Anyhow, steelhead do essentially the same thing, only once finished with “the act”, they head back to the sea to get bigger. Some time later they return to the river to do it all over again, and one would assume, do it better. Practice, practice, practice - the life cycle of a steelhead is pure agony.

Catching one of these big dudes with a fly while they’re in the river is quite a feat. First off, they aren’t really thinking about eating. They have other things on their mind. Just getting their attention is a small miracle. Secondly, there aren’t that many of them, so your chances are reduced by the numbers themselves. And finally, there a lot of more efficient ways of catching them, like using nets, or bait or hardware.

So, what is it that makes a few individuals put up with the bad weather, the expense and the remote locations to try something where they are almost destined to fail? I’d say the following picture says it all:

You Are A Marathoner!

Have you ever run a marathon? Neither have I. Maybe the better phrased question is “Who in their right mind would run a marathon?” It has always seemed masochistic to me - months of grueling training (always at very early hours in the AM) followed by an equally grueling final event (often starting at an even earlier hour). Still, many of the people I know insist on taking part in these crazy things. It just doesn’t make sense.

This past weekend I took it upon myself to figure it all out. No, I haven’t lost my marbles and actually entered one. Instead, I followed my sister to Kelowna, BC, where she was running her first marathon. I had spent months trying to talk her out of it, but she was always finished her training by the time I was getting out of bed, so the effectiveness of my pleas was somewhat diminished.

For the uninitiated, which is what I was until this past Sunday, a marathon is a 26 mile (40.2 km) run. That’s it. You start the race by running across a line with a few thousand other “hopefuls”, each and every one “hoping” to finish some four hours later by running back across the same line. Only it’s not really so simple. Those four hours or so involve a number of stages that you have to witness to really understand. You have to partake in a marathon to truly feel what the marathoner endures. So, in order to truly feel and understand, I followed my sister around the entire circuit - on my mountain bike. And, based on my first hand knowledge, I present to you the six stages of a marathon:
Stage 1 – Hope Springs Eternal
A broad smile is splashed across every face. Bodies are limber. Confidence abounds. It’s truly a remarkable scene. And it should be, for the race hasn’t started yet.
Stage 2 – Less Spring, But There’s Still Hope (km 1 to 10)
For the first ten kilometers, the air of confidence remains. Everyone has trained for this race and thinks they know what to expect. Those who have run marathons in the past are even better prepared. I was a little less organized, so I stopped off at the first Starbucks I saw and ordered a quad latte. Hey, the race started at 8 AM. I hadn’t had time to get primed before the starting gun was fired. For me, the first ten kilometers was for figuring out how to ride my bike without spilling scalding hot coffee all over myself.
Stage 3 – Reality Sets In (km 10 to 20)
This is when the marathon runner begins to realize what they’ve got themselves into. For the newbies, it’s when they begin to feel those nagging little injuries and wonder what they’ll feel like in another 20 kilometers. For all but the most experienced marathoners, it’s when they begin to feel those nagging little injuries and wonder what they’ll feel like in another 20 kilometers. The real pros already know what it’s going to feel like. That’s why they’re the ones with better drugs than Advil.
Stage 4 – Is It True That 25 km Is Only 15.5 Miles? (km 20 to 30)
Hell yes it’s true. And to make matters worse, in the Kelowna marathon they put a hill right in the middle of this stage. That’s cruel. I was exhausted, and some of the marathoners seemed to be struggling a bit, too.
Stage 5 – Mental Fatigue (km 30 to 40)
It is well documented that the beginning of this stage is the most crucial time for a marathoner. The body has already quit miles before, but the mind has been keeping it going. In the early 30’s, the mind starts to fade, as well. Marathoners struggle with delusions of self doubt, like “Why in the world am I doing this?” and “I’m never ever making a bet with Bob when I’m drunk again!” It’s only those who are able to regain focus, and realize that they are on the home stretch, that are able to go on to stage 6. Which is a good thing, because most of them are so exhausted that it makes for some great embarrassing photos, guaranteed to get a laugh from the audience at the next roast!
Stage 6 – You Are A Marathoner! (km 40.2)
OK, all kidding aside, this is why people run marathons. Those four words sum it up. It is quite an exclusive club. It signifies a level of commitment and fitness that only a few ever achieve. And, as each runner crosses the finish line, they hear their names announced over the loud speaker, and they know that each and every one of them, all ages and sizes, is a marathoner.

I’ll most certainly drink to that, as I did at the end of this race, having packed along a nice bottle of champagne to help my sister celebrate. This one’s for you, Beth. You are a marathoner! Now quit drinking all the bubbly…