Category Archives: News and politics

When you discuss television journalism, there is a Holy Duality:  Cronkite and Murrow.  These two pre-eminent inventors of television journalism, right from the beginning, are the ones that set the standard for every other talking head to come.

Walter Leland Cronkite started as an ink-stained wretch doing news and sports reporting for a series of newspapers in the US Midwest, then moved to radio as a reporter, using Walter Wilcox as his on-air handle.  This would be in the 1935 to 1937 era of history. 

Cronkite joined United Press in 1937 and was a very distinguished reporter during the Second World War, covering Operation Market-Garden, the Battle of the Bulge and even the Nuremburg War Crimes trials.  He was an actual working reporter.

Television ‘news’ in the post-war era was not much more than re-writing the newspaper copy and fifteen minutes of a talking head reading it to the audience, interspersed with commercials, usually done by the news reader.  This changed as people figured out how to incorporate pictures in the new media, then sound, then reporters with microphones, asking questions.

To understand some of it, you need some backstory:

In the beginning there were no LiveEye satellite trucks or helicopters with downlinks, feeding shaky pictures of cops chasing someone in a wife-beater undershirt over fences and through back yards. There were no iReporters emailing cell phone video clips to a news organization.

In The Day, film was the medium.  Eastman 7240 (or 7245), single system 16 mm film in a CP or an Eclair mag.  The film from breaking stories came in either by the camera man, or shipped in an “onion bag” from far away.  The film was taken immediately to the lab and as soon as it came out, about an hour later, was edited on a Steenbeck (was it 21 or 27 frames for lip flap?) and rushed to the telecine to get to air.  Total time from story to air: About three hours.

In that three hours the reporter would actually write the story, check facts and make sure that things were accurate and fair.  Tape sped things up a bit, but there was still a lag from the story to air where the reporter could actually answer those pesky questions of who, what, when, where and why.

Moments of history communicated by Walter Cronkite?  The Kennedy Assassination, The Cuban Missile Crisis, The Viet Nam War, Apollo 11, Watergate, The Iran Hostage Crisis.  You name it from 1937 onwards, and Uncle Walter was probably there and reported on it.  Lyndon Johnson, after watching Cronkite comment on the futility of the war in Viet Nam, said “If we’ve lost Cronkite, we’ve lost the war.”

On February 14th 1980, Cronkite retired from CBS News, handing the reins over to that young punk from the Dallas-Kennedy Assassination coverage, Dan Rather.

In “retirement” he kept very busy, doing documentaries, voice-overs, writing, sailing and occasionally commenting on the state of the world.  A little slower of course, but still with measured, reasoned commentary in that voice that could only be Walter Cronkite. 

You could take any of his clips, even off the cuff casual remarks and transcribe them as a print story:  He spoke in complete sentences, likely a result of his years as a journalist, but also the result of having a brain that worked before the lips started moving, almost unheard of these days in our overwrought media landscape.

He passed away yesterday, having almost made it to the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing, his historic clips making the rounds of the media again. 

There won’t be a three-hour memorial at the Staples Center, with Mariah Carey singing, as Cronkite was a reporter, not a circus act.  We won’t see Rev. Al Sharpton or Brooke Shields delivering their heartfelt commentary over his remains.  Perhaps just as well.  I would imagine Cronkite would rise from the dead and bust some heads if anyone suggested it. 

However, if you have a shred of respect for what real, fair, balanced, accurate reporting was and should now be, you’ll stop for a moment and reflect on Walter Cronkite gave to the world.  He gave us The Standard.     

And that’s the way it is. 

The MJ memorial is over and if one were to believe the media, the entire world, except for a group up in a small town in China, stopped to watch and Celebrate His Memory.

I’m going to catch all kinds of grief for this, but hey.  Look, he was an entertainer.  A very good one.  Very creative, very skilled and very talented, no question there, but he was still merely an entertainer.  He didn’t cause world peace to break out, he didn’t invent the artificial heart, or develop a new medicine to cure stupidity.

Which gives me pause today.  Our modern society is so focused on the superficial banalities of ‘celebrities’ that I occasionally despair of us.  Certainly, we need bread and we need circuses too, but have we wobbled too far into the banal to come back?

What we might be missing is something called ‘perspective’.  A moment of time to reflect and think about issues, how we feel about them, what our opinions are and what we might consider doing about the issue in front of us.  Obtaining perspective is difficult, as it requires two things:  Some time and some thought. 

Time is a premium commodity today, as we working endless hours accomplishing less than ever before at a furious pace, falling exhausted into the arm chair at the end of the day. 

Thought is harder.  You have to actually use the brain, asking questions and listening to your answers.  For example, Jacko’s Memorial?  I found it mawkish, embarrassing and needlessly cloying, so after a few minutes I tuned it out.  Jacko is still dead.

Perspective on the Garbage Strike in Toronto?  Until it reaches the 14th floor in Mississauga, I don’t care as much as others might want me to.  Both the City and Unions are suffering from a serious case of Rectocrainial Syndrome.

The same with Prime Minister Steve-O Harper either taking Catholic communion or palming the wafer during Romeo LeBlanc’s funeral.  The mere fact that Harper is our PM makes me want to disgorge the contents of my stomach off the balcony daily.  If he takes communion (Harper self-describes as an Evangelical Protestant) or drinks human blood only on Tuesdays, I don’t care and I suspect God doesn’t give a rat’s ass either.

The Starving Children in (Insert Name of Distant Country Here).  Yes, it’s sad.  Yes, the government in (Name of Distant Country) is incredibly corrupt and is stealing all the aid money and food we send over there while the poor children die in the streets.  Yep sad.  I already give to charities to help them.

Hockeybasebasketfoot-ball?  My lips are chapped; don’t make me laugh.  The Sens have sold the rights to Sergei Wakemoff for a cappuccino maker and next years’ draft pick.  Ho Hum.

What is important is keeping things in perspective.  What can I (and you) fix, modify, improve or remediate is the real question.  The list is much smaller but some of it can be accomplished with modest efforts for modest gains.

Civility is easy enough.  As an example, an elderly Sikh gentleman was at the crosswalk near the apartment.  He was hesitant about crossing at the four-way stop and I was already stopped.  He looked at me and I waved him across.  He tottered across the road, shuffling in that ancient way and gave me a wave of approximate ‘thanks’ as he crossed. 

Cost to me?  Perhaps five seconds out of my life.  Impact on him?  A moment of civility and respect.  An anecdote to tell over lunch with his family; “Then the crazy white guy waved me across the intersection!  Who knew they could be nice.  Pass the chutney please…”  It’s a small deposit in the bank of positive karma. 

Will it Change The World?  Not in a measureable way for all the inhabitants but for a couple of seconds, two or three people might have a nice moment. 

That we can all do.

The old saying is that badness comes in threes.  This week, Ed McMahon, Farah Fawcett and (as I was writing the Farah Fawcett piece) The King of Pop, Michael Jackson died suddenly.

Like most people I will readily admit that I liked his music, as much of his later work was superb.  The Jackson Five stuff, was formulaic pre-digested musical pudding, but later works like Thriller were new, innovative and remarkable. 

It was his ‘private’ life that creeped a lot of people out.  I’m not going to bother to list it, as the list is too long and much too weird to even want to write it down.  Don’t worry, it will all be reprised for your guilty pleasures in a number of rapidly written tell-alls.  Expect one or two in the next four weeks. 

The National Enquirer and that ilk will be wall to wall for the next three weeks.  With any luck we’ll have stories that Jacko was sharing his hyperbaric chamber with Farah Fawcett in her last days, or other such madness.

Which, unfortunately, detracts from his musical accomplishments, but is still part of his legacy.  There is some considered opinion that Jacko could be repackaged after his death, much like Elvis.

Elvis, if you recall, died from a stroke while on the toilet, an overinflated caricature of himself, full of bad medicine.  Today, the only Elvis is the lean, handsome 1968 version:  The 1977 Elvis has been erased from our collective memory by Elvis Presley Enterprises Inc. 

The same is starting to happen with Jacko, as the media replays the Jackson Five and Thriller videos, but it is only hours into the repackaging that will happen. 

Remember Jacko, sure, but remember all of him, not just the the tiny little happy snippets.

Cancer has claimed Farah Fawcett at age 62 unfortunately. She was a 1970’s icon, plain and simple:  An entire generation was influenced by her particular look, style and demeanour.

If you don’t believe me, troll some blogs, classmates.com or facebook and look for that peculiar hairstyle of the 70’s.  Women either had a parasol perm or a FFM feather cut.  It was required as a test of citizenship on Planet Earth.

Now, this is not to say that the 70’s were the ne plus ultra of style, far from it, but Charlie’s Angels, which launched Farah Fawcett, was very much a groundbreaking show in six ways.  FFM’s left and right one, Jaclyn Smith’s left and right one and Kate Jackson’s left and right one.  Not eyes either.  Charlie’s Angels helped coin the term “Jiggle Show”, quite possibly the first.

This isn’t to diminish the acting chops of Fawcett, Smith or Jackson, but still, you didn’t watch Charlie’s Angels for the deep philosophical challenges.  You didn’t watch for the bracing characterizations or the remarkable plot twists. You watched for the swimsuit shots, the nipple shots or the glamour shots.  And you hoped, nay prayed that something would fall out or be overexposed.  It never happened, but you hoped.

Fawcett did other work and her documentary on her cancer is almost too moving to watch without having to hit pause several times.  And her passing puts a close on the documentary.

Is her passing a end of an era?  Not really, but it is the end of an icon.  The same as the passing of Ed McMahon was the passing of a 60’s icon, the passing of Farah Fawcett is the passing of a 70’s icon.

And if you are to believe the news reports right this minute, perhaps an 80’s icon is about to pass too.

You know there is a time when you should just lock the doors and drive away as fast as you can.  Today would be one of those times.

Rumour has it, North Korea has a seagoing freighter with a missile and a nuke onboard steaming towards Hawaii.  The objective, at least if you read the runes with the right kind of eyes, is to nuke Hawaii and piss off the US of A. 

Let’s see, what would the global response be?  Oh, I don’t know, probably China will turn all of North Korea into a glass lake.  China knows if they don’t, the US will.  There is that issue of South Korea being next door, radiation, millions of casualties and so on, but the essential response would be massive, violent and permanent. 

Of course, Kim Jong-Il could just be goofin’ with us, but we really don’t know for sure and he is just nuts enough to try.  We really should get him the Diamond level Hair Club for Men membership, free of charge. Perhaps then he’d eff off and leave the rest of the world alone.

In other comforting news, the Iranian elections are all upside down.  Mahmoud “Mike” Ahmadinejad has either won, straight up, or had pulled off one heck of a sleight of hand move and got caught.  Protesters who technically do not exist, at least to the Iranian media, are beeping and mooing with a fair amount of nerve in a theocratic dictatorship. 

The Iranian government has found that total control of the media doesn’t mean the story is capped, thanks to Facebook, YouTube, Twitter and the rest of the social media.  Supreme Religious Leader Ali Khomeini has even said “Sit down and shutthefokup”, to no avail.

The Braidwood Enquiry of the RCMP in the Taser death of Robert Dziekansky at Vancouver airport a couple of years ago, had a 500 pound manure bomb dropped on proceedings.  An email between two senior RCMP supervisors suggests that the four officers responding to the airport discussed a plan to use a Taser on Dziekansky before they even got to the airport and knew what was going on.

The email was leaked today and commissioner Thomas Braidwood just about blew a head valve.  Essentially, everyone from the RCMP said they felt threatened by Dziekansky and figured that zapping him five times would be fine.  So would two guys kneeling on his neck as they wrestled him into cuffs.  We’ll overlook the lack of pepper spray, baton, command voice, or even just a boot to the nuts.  Cut to the chase and zap the poor mook.  Ooopsie, he’s dead. 

The Braidwood Enquiry is on hold until September 22 while Commissioner Braidwood has asked the RCMP to “Get your shit square, you assholes and stop jacking me around.  Tell the friggin’ truth or I will take a Taser to your effin’ eyeballs!”  I think that quote might not be accurate, but I can’t tell from here.

At a Wendy’s in Jacksonville Florida this week, an employee got annoyed at another employee, went home, got a gun and shot his colleague dead.  At a Denver McD back on May 21st, a Denver cop felt it was taking too long to fill his order at the drive thru late one night.  He flashed the tin, then waved the piece in a way to encourage faster service.  Even the meat-related automatons at the drive thru recognized the level of hostility as inappropriate. Who says fast food is bad for you?

Next year might not be a great year for motorcar racing.  The Formula One Teams Association has invited the Federation Internationale de l’Automobile to go spoon a goose.  Essentially Max Mosley and Bernie Ecclestone have run the FIA like their own Dutchy of Grand Fenwick. 

The F1 teams, tired of Max and Bernie behaving like Idi Amin without the charm, are considering putting their own formula and series together.  This would mean Idi Mosley and Bernie Amin would own the pre-eminent motor racing series in the world, with no cars.  The racing might be better:  Significantly quieter, but better. 

Who knows, maybe Montreal will get its’ race back.  The sound of no cars racing around Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, in front of the advertising hoardings sold by the FIA, to finance Ecclestone’s personal Malaysian toast chef or Mosley’s escapades involving professional talent and uniforms.  It could happen.

Finally, the CBC’s Don Newman is hanging it up after 30 years on Parliament Hill.  He was a superlative journalist, of the old skool, where you knew your stuff, asked intelligent questions and didn’t take a sound bite for an answer. 

The eternal mystery however, is Newman’s upper lip.  It never moved.  Ever.  It was like the middle part of his face was carved out of bird’s eye maple, immovable and immutable.  All the federal parties respected Don Newman and at the same time, feared him as he wouldn’t always play softball with the questions.  Which is what a journalist is supposed to do.

Sometimes life intrudes and if your job has a lot of writing in it and your past-time has a lot of writing in it, there comes that point where you don’t want to write, unless the paycheque demands it.  Which sometimes happens. 

Believe it or not, writing takes a fair amount of energy, sometimes physical energy, but also mental energy and for the last few weeks, work has been taking the cycles available.  Oh well.

That doesn’t mean I haven’t been outraged here and there and by way of a catch up, here we go:

GM in Chapter 11.  The Poncho brand is gone and GM looking for a buyer for Hummer and Saab, but can’t find a Russian oligarch with enough money, but not quite enough stupidity to buy the two red-headed stepchildren of GM.  Needless to say the couple of thousand dealers who got their walking papers are going to ensure that what’s left of the GM brand is tarred, feathered, keyed and pissed upon from a great height.

Chrysler.  I’m not sure I could actually care less.  Their cars were designed by a cabal of un-medicated bipolars.  They could design the Viper and engineer it with true skill and then turn around and float a turd like the PT Cruiser.  The couple of thousand dealers who took it rectally from Chrysler are also going to ensure that any product that comes out will be tarred, feathered, keyed and pissed on from a great height.

The Chalk River Isotope Fiasco.  Let’s see, AECL knew 30 years ago that the NRU had a 25 year operating life.  That was 20 years into its’ lifecycle as the producer of the majority of the medical isotopes on this planet.  For some reason AECL felt that simple concepts of time and space did not apply to their organization, so they ignored the calendar.  Now NRU is cold and will be for the foreseeable future.  Yet, the folks who run AECL still have jobs and the Minister, who might as well be in the Witless Protection Program, have nothing to say.

Shootings, Stabbings and General Mayhem in Toronto.  It seems that every second day there is a new act of violence here.  If the garbage workers go on strike during Pride Week, we’ll be up to our midsections in trash in a six days.  No, I don’t mean because of Pride Week.  I’m a bit more inclusive than that.  Trashy people can have Pride too.  I’m talking legit garbage.

Iggy and The Psychotic Cuttin’ A Deal.  The Leader of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition and the Poster Child for Haloperidol (in massive doses) met three times one day this week and decided not to have a Federal Election this summer.  Nice of them to ask us.  Unfortunately, they’re right.  If we did have an election this summer, the leaders of the various parties would have to campaign by video link, as voters might do them physical harm.

eHealth.  This pool of fermenting fecal matter is so symptomatic of the greasy sense of entitlement that certain sections of society have, that I can’t even get outraged about it.  It’s nothing more than the filthy rich looking after each other with untendered contracts, insane levels of compensation, no financial controls and a whole culture of a wink and nod with millions of tax dollars.  Do they care about actual health care?  Of course not.

The Wayne County Scarlet Airfoils were defeated by the Pittsburgh Flightless Sea Birds.  For some reason the planet continued revolving the next day.  Apparently someone didn’t shake hands with someone else afterwards.  Oh and the Blackberry guy wants a team in Hamilton so bad he’s willing to move all of Hamilton to Arizona, or something like that.  That’s the News in Sports.

I always wondered why people drink to excess.  I’m starting to realize why.

Tomorrow is another jour.  We move on.

It would seem that North Korea’s application for membership in the World Nuclear Club has been re-sent and somehow wound up here.  It hasn’t changed much since 2006.  I have no idea how these things wind up in my inbox…

Name: Kim Jong-Il  Celestial President for Life of Democratic People’s Republic of Korea  Platinum Member Hair Club for Men

Address:  1 Presidential Palace, Pyongyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.  Kim Jong-Il, Prop.

Phone:  011 850 1

email: kji@northkorea.kp

Sponsoring Country:  "We get by with a little help from our friends" and Pakistan

Reason for Application:

I let one off on weekend.  About 20 kilotons or so.  Same size as the Fat Man did for Hiroshima in 1945.  Big goddam ball of flame.  Loud sonofabitch.  Measuring new hole now.  Missiles too.

Supporting Evidence:

US all a twitter. Japan is urinating their kimonos.  Russia is quiet as mouse in empty Pyongyang silo.  China annoyed.  India is making giggling and Pakistan is holding parade of celebration for Celestial President for Life of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea next Tuesday.  Israel strangely quiet for Jews who talk with hands and dance in circles.  Frenchers and UK not happy.  Wolf Blitzer said we did.  Plus, seismic squiggles making large amplitudes. 

Demands (Rational):

Increased worldwide attention paid to Celestial President for Life of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Kim Jong-Il. 

More episodes of "Three’s Company" written by Kim Jong-Il with original Krissy. 

Old McDonalds in Presidential Square please.  Have much requirement for Fillet O Fish as example of decadent western imperialism and tartar sauce.  Starbucks welcome too.

Need DVD of Susan Boyle  Britisher Talent video plus night scope camera from Sony only not Samsung. 

Demands (Irrational)

Feed populace and place for them to be housed that is not South.  Perhaps in Mexico to obtain American citizenship after voting in elections for Obama 

Ship of oil for Celestial President for Life of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea Mercedes-Benz. 

Ship of Nikees in mixed sizes but mostly 11 EEE. 

Noble portrait of Celestial President for Life of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Kim Jong-Il on US Five dollar bill for next year. 

Box seats Yankee Stadium, Blue level near third base line. 

Tennis Lessons from Annika Sorenstram. 

Lasik surgery in Austin Texas. 

Hat of Cheese Head labeled Go Packers Go!

Signed

KJI

I read about them GM folks tankin the Pontiac and I got some pissed, just before I got the news that Chrysler was goin to tank the whole shebang.  Now I’s truly pissed.

Pontiac used to be a fine brand of car, back in the day when it was almost upscale from the a Chevy.  That’s how you told things about a person.  If they drove a Chevy, they were OK.  If they drove a Pontiac, they was doing well enough.  Drive an Oldsmobile and you might have been almost wealthy, while the Buick driver was someone who had’er made.  Caddy?  Pimps, doctors and funeral directors drove’em.

It was sort of the same with the Ford and Mercury cars and the Plymouth, Dodge and Chrysler.  But that was a long time ago and things were simpler back when I was a lad, back before metricalization when breaking the ton meant goin more than 100 miles an hour. 

Nowadays you break the ton on the highway just gettin to Timmies, but she’s measured in kilometers, so’s it don’t count.  Oh and Ethyl Lead was on the pumps.

I has had a bunch of cars over time.  First one I remember was a 54 Pontiac with a sun visor over top.  Body By Fisher and black as a well-diggers arse at midnight she was.  Bought it used and it’d overheat in the winter.  I sold it when the head warped like Bobby Hull’s stick. 

There was another Pontiac if I recall rightly, a 1978 Phoenix before they went all front-wheel drive toy cars.  Motor was out of a Buick originally but they slapped a Pontiac badge on it.  Had a high-windin six holer and would go like hell if you pushed her.  Wrote that one off twice, one in a crash and the other time when it rusted out and I couldn’t find enough metal for the pop rivets to keep the cops off my back.  It had a plywood passenger floor for a while. 

I think Gary used it up to the farm to haul wood for a few years, then it just up and died when he forgot to put oil in it three years in a row.

Which I think is my way of sayin, I’m sad about Pontiac going away.  Now the Pontiac is either a Holden out of Australia or some Korean piece of crap that they badge up as anything they want.  Pontiac, Chevy, Kelvinator, Viking.  GM’d label a bag of bread as a Pontiac if there was a buck in it. 

Which I think is whats wrong with GM and Chrysler.  For so long they’d sell crap and we’d buy it, so they stopped tryin. 

Sometimes a good one would slip out.  Back in the 80’s Chevy Canada had built a bunch of cars for Iran, with three on the tree, air, and all the heavy duty suspension out of the cop car division. 

Then some hostage thing happened and they couldn’t ship them to Iran.  Some of the dealers got’em really cheap. 

Problem was they were all in colors like Fawn Green and Chemo Piss Yellow.  As long as you could hold with your friends laughing at you, they were tough, plain bench seats and like friggin anvils.  You had to really work at breakin them.  Which told me they could make a good car if they wanted to, but didn’t.  

Since the disability I don’t have a car no more, as the MTO isn’t keen on my drivin, but I do get into the cars of friends and taxis and the occasional bus, so’s I still keep up.  Most I’ve been in are too small by half and have a motor what sounds like you run a frozen squirrel through a planer, if they make any noise at all.

Davey’s got some appliance from Nissan these days, but she goes well enough for a city car, which is where he does most of his drivin.   

I’d give a buck for a 72 Ford LTD Wagon about now, with that nasty old blue oval 400 what came with the trailer option.  But no fake wood kit, thanks.  Room for at least a dozen cases, all the camping gear and six buddies going away for the May 2-4 weekend.  There was room on the roof rack and the back-back fold down seat well could hold enough Palm Breeze to make Saturday go away for good. 

If you stepped on it, you could hear the secondarys open up and suck the leaves off the trees.  Take out the air filter and you’d scare the pukes on Carling Ave with a station wagon that’s smoke both rears, as the trailer package had a Locker in’er.

I guess that things have changed a lot.  Gas is pricey and the parking spaces aren’t rightly built for a station wagon no more.

Which kinda makes me sad with Pontiac going away and Chrysler goin down the tubes. 

They could’ve done right, but didn’t choose to.

I’m up against some deadlines at work, so I got our esteemed pinch-hitter Mason Baveux to fill in.  I’ll be back as soon as possible.  Mason? 

Thanks now Dave.  We got some catching up to do here, so we’re goin to do it like short snappers for ten points.  Get your hand on the buzzer, as here we go!

Economy:  In the shitter.  Bad like.  There’s been all kind of stories about folks gettin laid off for nothing worse than having to take an afternoon off to get a spear out of their skull.  That ain’t right.  Turn up pregnant?  Kiss you job good bye and to hell with what the laws says.  That really ain’t right.

Pensions:  If it weren’t for the disability, I’d a been down at the Queens Park today offereing to give Dolthead McGuinty a spare hole.  Them folks at GM who paid into the pensions for 30 years damn well deserve their full pension.  They paid into it, GM agreed to match the money and the Province agreed to insure it.  What the hell are we still talking about it for? 

Dolthead gets his pension, no matter what, so’s what so different about a GM worker or a guy who spent 35 years on the line at Chrysler.  Friggin lawyers.  Do whats right Dolthead, as you ain’t Mike Harris, or is you?

The Leafs:  Don’t make me laugh, my lips are chapped.  Same with the Sens.  I’ve seen better jokes at the amputee mime festival.  The Canadiens are goin’ golfing shortly.

Harper:  He’s was douchebag during the campaign.  Still is.

RCMP Zapping people:  Seems like someone can’t get their stories straight at that Robby Dzerchansky inquiry.  They put the tazer to him five times, when all the really needed to do was put the boots to him.  I ain’t met anyone yet, no matter what language they speak, who don’t understand a nightstick across the forearm and a boot to the nuts.  It means get the hell down and shut the hell up. 

But noooo, the Mounties have to go all technical and wind up electrocuting the guy five times.  No wonder he’s dead but then the Mounties can’t get their stories straight.  Jeeze lads, look at the effin tape and at least try to be close to what you see.  If you frigged it all up, at least say so.  All I hear is four guys tap dancing around the facts so hard they’re wearing out the carpet.  Man up a bit.

Conquest Vacations going mammaries up:  I don’t know about that, but i bet someone is gettin paid twice.

Obama:  So far, so good.  He’s running 6 for 10 so far, but at least he’s talking about draggin Cheney into court with Rumsfeld and a couple of other arseholes.  ‘Cept the economy is in the ditch and the bankers are laffin’ all the way to their Swiss bank accounts.  I’d be draggin in some bankers too. 

Roll Up The Rim:  Timmy’s did their contest again.  I didn’t win so much as a free Dutchie, never mind the SUV or the lotion massage from Charlize Theron.

Mexican drug lords:  Fer shiite sakes lads, if there’s money to be made, there’s someone whats going to get a gun and steal it.  We been fightin a War on Drugs since Ronnie Regan and we haven’t so much as won a battle, let alone the war. 

Give it up.  Sell it like booze, except you need to show ID every time, then tax the snot out of it, like smokes.  If you want to go all wacky on the tabaky, go for it.  Just don’t drive the car.  Stay home and get all stupid as much as you want. 

I’m thinking we need more stupid people as our leaders, as the ones what are supposed to be really smart, sure haven’t done that good.  Maybe its time for the stupid to give’er a go

Seasons:  I smelled that Spring smell a couple of weeks ago. Smells like dog poop thawing out, so’s it must be spring here.  That and the flooding in Manitoba are usually a dead giveaway that I can get my summer hat out.  That would be the CAT hat, instead of the Wilton Cheese hat. 

Wind turbines:  A note to the guys what want to run all the electricity off them wind turbines?  Don’t put’em too close to houses until we figure out if people gettin the shakey jakes from the turbines is real or fake.  Rather than putting up one big jeezly one, maybe two or three smaller ones might do’er.

Susan Boyle:  She’s a fine figure of a woman and can sing like an angel.  Even if she goes all Hollywoody and gets her own reality show, I still like how she sings.  Until she cold-cocks her personal assistant with a cell phone, give her a break.

Bacon:  It it just me, or is bacon getting so thin you can do shadow puppets through it.  In my day, bacon actually had more than two dimensions.  Now what they’re calling bacon looks like a photo of bacon that you can eat.  I want the old kind of bacon, that you could actually pick up without it shattering like Mrs. Bernies hip replacement.

Omar Khodder:  (I don’t think I spelled his name right there, but you know the guy I mean.  The one the Americans put in Gitmo when he was fifteen)  Bring him home, as he’s Canadian and was a kid soldier.  Stick him in Millhaven if you want, but we look after our folks first.  I’m not saying he’s not guilty, or guilty, but after five years the Americans can’t even prove he was there, so somebodies bullshitting us.  Oh, thats right.  Douchebag Harper is our Prime Minister, so what the courts say don’t matter none.

Cell Phones:  It is just me, or does everyone have one growing out of their heads these days.  I swear I saw an infant in a stroller goin “goo goo” on his cellphone to him mom, not four feet away, who was on her cellphone.  If that keeps happening, the next generation is going to have one arm that’s only five inches long, just enough to hold a phone to their ear.  Maybe somebody should teach the kids how to fly kites or catch frogs.

That’s all I got. I know Dave’s been busy, so’s I might get to write more.  It’s up to him.

With GM and Chrysler taking union bashing to new heights, it is incumbent to examine exactly why.  Especially since Air Canada is circling the drain again and will start mooing and beeping about union contracts.

First off, by way of disclosure, I have been a dues-paying union member in the past, specifically CUPE and NABET in previous careers, but I have also been a small business owner.  Yes, I am a capitalist.  Yes I believe that profit is good.  Damn good.  And yes, I have seen how unions work.  Calm down and take a few deep breaths ok?

The reason unions first came into being was because employers treated their cattle better than they treated their employees.  Only a few generations ago, being killed on the job was considered normal.  The employer would cuss and say “You shiftless buggers cost this company a half-days’ production so you could remove what was left of McGarry’s remains from the machinery.  What the hell does he need a Christian burial for now?  We’re taking the cost of repairs out of his last day’s wages.  No, his wife can’t have the day off for the funeral.  Back to work!”   

Only a generation or two ago, being shot or beaten for mentioning the word ‘union’ or ‘collective bargaining’ was common.  Many industries had company police who made sure that organizers got their heads cracked on a regular basis.  Go ask any old-time mine worker (if there’s any left alive now) about the old days.

The old joke is is “What did a union ever do for us?”  The five-day work week.  Pensions.  Health Care.  Maternity Leave.  Occupational Health and Safety Standards.  Limits on hours of work.  Standards of Employment. Employment Equity and Fairness.  Minimum Wage.  Employment Insurance. These are all things that unions fought to get and still fight for.    

An aside:  The obvious reason a business gets a union is because they have a history of treating their people like crap.  Well-treated, engaged, fairly-compensated employees rarely form unions.  It isn’t complicated:  Treat the employees with respect, even in tough times and they tend not to go union. 

Unionization adds a layer of complexity, but simplifies things at the same time.  Both sides get a set of written rules to play by in the form of a contract:  You do this, we do this and this is the way we settle problems.

To be fair and balanced, unions have also crossed the line a few times.  One situation I know about was a company called Taggart Transport.  The owner was a former driver who made it big, owned his own fleet and understood the people working for him.  The owner paid more than the union contract and treated his people well.  Consequently he has a successful medium-large size, profitable, business.   

Any time a particular union (the name you could guess) tried to organize Taggart, the Taggart drivers would shrug and say no thanks.  Why sign up for less money per hour and have to pay dues on top of it?  There was more than one occasion when bad things would happen.  The true finesse move was tying a length of rope to a concrete block and making sure it was at windshield height on the opposite side of an overpass. 

If a Taggart rig was whistling down the then-new 401 expressway, for some reason, that tethered concrete block would fall off the overpass and wind up in front of the truck.  Of course the physics involved in a 30 pound concrete block hitting the windshield of a truck doing 60 miles an hour would be quite the attention grabber.  One could call it a unique form of communications, the message being “Sign a union card, or die.”  It didn’t help the union to recruit any new members.

In Canada, unions have generally been level-headed.  The British union mindset of walking off the job for six weeks because someone moved a lunch box never really played out here.  The Canadian Auto Workers (CAW) has very much been a partner with GM, Ford and Chrysler, in holding down wages and increasing productivity, as well as cutting benefits for retired workers, rolling back hours and doing everything rational and reasonable to help the auto makers stay in business. 

Reality doesn’t actually matter in the court of Pubic Relations, as the bottom falls out of GM and Chrysler.  All that matters is someone else is to blame for the crap products and unions are as handy a target as any.  At least this time the Big Three are not screaming about the Yellow Peril of Japanese imports.

Which leads us to the future of unions.  For many the simple act of having a job is a good thing these days.  Even if you are treated like a piece of dirt by an employer whose definition of being supportive is to demand more unpaid overtime and threaten to fire you if you don’t agree, you shut up and keep working.

In that kind of nasty corporate culture, the only people who get anything are the workplace consultants.  The company wakes up one day and figures that morale is low.  So they hire a consultant who gives out $1 coffee mugs with “Teamwork” emblazoned on the side and demands that the company run ‘quality circles’ to improve productivity and morale. 

The consultant pockets big fees, the employer gets to feel like he’s done something and the folks who do the work look for another job; not caring if the company lives, dies, or engages in a form or matrimony with a barnyard animal.  That kind of company will go under, the owner complaining about how disloyal his people were and how crippling labour costs can be.

I call Bullshit.  Management is where the mistakes are made.  The union folks at GM didn’t design the Pontiac Aztek, winner of the Most Hideous Car for four years running.

Nobody from the CAW decided to give Celine Dion a zillion bucks to be the spokesmeat for the Chrysler Pacifica.  Do you know anyone who actually owns a Chrysler Pacifica?  FEMA bought the last of them and uses them as temporary housing in New Orleans now that the trailers have rotted out. 

Nobody with a union card insisted that GM import the Daewoo Douchebag (a car that even Koreans laugh at) and rebadge it as the Chevy Sphincter.

Nobody in a union at Ford could have engineered the Ford Aerostar, Windstar and Freestar that badly, even as a gag, while drunk.  Listen closely and you can hear them rust away on a damp day.   

But we’re going to punish the unions just the same.