I read an article after the recent American election in which a Kerry supporter shrugged off the Bush-backing ‘Red’ states.
“We eat better,” wrote columnist Ted Rall, referring to the Democratic ‘Blue’ states, “travel more, dress better, watch cooler movies, listen to better music...”
Hold on there. Better music? I’m not so sure about that, and neither, I’d guess, were the thousand or so folks who showed up at the Commodore ballroom on November 16th to see Gov’t Mule.
With roots in the deep south, Gov’t Mule blend the kind of guitar chops you’d get from the Allmans or the Black Crowes with some groovy, skillfully delivered rhythms.
Burly frontman Warren Haynes is a tasteful but unmistakably red meat guitar player. He is pretty much in a league of his own, genuinely capable of putting a spell on an audience. By itself this would make the band a premier division outfit, but what puts Gov’t Mule over the top is the drumming of Matt Apts.
Wringing something new out of the blues scale can be a tough trick, and Gov’t Mule often employ some unique time signatures to keep things interesting. The flair with which Apts handles these rhythms keeps the band from losing the thread of the groove or sinking into math-rock wankery.
Offhand, I’d say Apts brings to Gov’t Mule something similar to what Dave Grohl brought to the latest Queens of the Stone Age album. He can take a riff or progression and put a fresh spin on it. Moreover, he can bring a tune from a smolder to a burn and back again with real deftness.
.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Some randon post-American election musings:
-Given that the Republicans have strengthened their hold on the Senate, I wouldn't be surprised to see a re-opening of the initiative to drill for oil in the Alaska Wilderness Refuge, a giant arctic ecosystem that stretches into the Yukon. Bush tried this in his first term, but the effort failed when a few Republican senators broke ranks and voted it down. He'll have a better hand if he tries it again. And given that the Middle East is likely to stay at least as tense as it is now, and that this may lend a greater urgency to U.S. efforts to develop alternative oil supplies, I wonder if he’ll have another go.
-I doubt celebrities really help that much in an election. John Kerry may have Bon Jovi et al on his side, but this misses the fact that entertainers work off of a different popularity scale than politicians. Even the biggest stars don't need to appeal to more than ten percent of a particular market to achieve fame and fortune. The thing is, in seriously appealing to that ten percent, they often irritate the crap out of the other 90 percent, a fact that makes them less-than-useful political allies. For every undecided voter who says "hey, the composer of 'Living on a Prayer' endorses Kerry,' there are about nine who score it as a mark against the candidate.
-There's likely to be a Canadian election in the next year or two. I'm wondering if Canadians will opt for a Conservative government as a kind of 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' way of easing cross border tensions, or if Bush antipathy will simply solidify the Liberal hold on parliament. In a sense the Liberals have adopted a right-leaning fiscal policy, and have thus been able to outflank the Conservatives enough already to prevent a wholesale move to the right.
I'm also curious as to the effect of four more years of Bush on the tiresome-but-undismissable Quebec separatist movement.
In the past, Quebecers were always among the most pro-American of Canadians. For instance, it was Quebec support of Brian Mulroney that helped him carry through the free trade initiative in 1988. And I can distinctly remember Lucien Bouchard emoting his love for America at the time of the last sovereignty referendum. Quebec separatists have often seen a closer connection with the States as a way of leveraging themselves out of Canada, much in the same way Scottish nationalists often effuse about greater connections with Europe as a counterbalance to the English union.
Now things seem a bit different. Nowhere is the anti-Bush sentiment more pronounced than in Quebec. Does Quebec really want a closer relationship with Bush's America? Sure, the Bloq has a heavy presence in the current Parliament, but this may be due to a passing anti-Liberal protest vote as much as anything. Could it be that Bush will bring us all closer together?
Bush owes a lot to his right-wing base. With some supreme court vacancies possibly opening up, I imagine that the U.S. will become more socially conservative over the next few years. Anglo-Canadians have long fussed over establishing an identity separate from the U.S. Well, it seems Bush is helping accomplish that by default.
-Speaking of things that could unite us, what about the quaint notion of a Canadian foreign policy? I hope like hell that rather than listen to my fellow countrymen spend four years whinging about the Republican view of the world, that we might actually get off our asses and assert our own perspective around the globe.
We have record budgetary surpluses with which to fund a military that might actually be able to make a difference in a place like Rwanda or present-day Sudan, or assert a bit of a presence over our own territory (did you hear that the frigging Danes, of all people, are trying to snatch a piece of our Arctic from us?).
What about developing a serious foreign aid program, like our moneybags PM promised Bono? What about not snorting like rubes when our head of state attempts to introduce our culture to other countries?
I was willing to put money on a Bush victory, but I'm not willing to put a dime on the possibility of Canadians rousing themselves to contribute a bit more to the world than endless empty rhetoric and bitching.
-In closing, I'll leave you with an anecdote, related by actress Julianne Moore on Letterman the other week. She had driven her car from New York to Toronto, where she was making a film. While waiting to make a left turn, a bunch of locals driving by spotted her New York plates, slowed down, and shouted "Go back to Boston!"
If we wonder why Americans sometimes don't seem to be listening to the rest of the world, maybe it's because sometimes the rest of the world is not quite as smart as it thinks it is.
-Given that the Republicans have strengthened their hold on the Senate, I wouldn't be surprised to see a re-opening of the initiative to drill for oil in the Alaska Wilderness Refuge, a giant arctic ecosystem that stretches into the Yukon. Bush tried this in his first term, but the effort failed when a few Republican senators broke ranks and voted it down. He'll have a better hand if he tries it again. And given that the Middle East is likely to stay at least as tense as it is now, and that this may lend a greater urgency to U.S. efforts to develop alternative oil supplies, I wonder if he’ll have another go.
-I doubt celebrities really help that much in an election. John Kerry may have Bon Jovi et al on his side, but this misses the fact that entertainers work off of a different popularity scale than politicians. Even the biggest stars don't need to appeal to more than ten percent of a particular market to achieve fame and fortune. The thing is, in seriously appealing to that ten percent, they often irritate the crap out of the other 90 percent, a fact that makes them less-than-useful political allies. For every undecided voter who says "hey, the composer of 'Living on a Prayer' endorses Kerry,' there are about nine who score it as a mark against the candidate.
-There's likely to be a Canadian election in the next year or two. I'm wondering if Canadians will opt for a Conservative government as a kind of 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' way of easing cross border tensions, or if Bush antipathy will simply solidify the Liberal hold on parliament. In a sense the Liberals have adopted a right-leaning fiscal policy, and have thus been able to outflank the Conservatives enough already to prevent a wholesale move to the right.
I'm also curious as to the effect of four more years of Bush on the tiresome-but-undismissable Quebec separatist movement.
In the past, Quebecers were always among the most pro-American of Canadians. For instance, it was Quebec support of Brian Mulroney that helped him carry through the free trade initiative in 1988. And I can distinctly remember Lucien Bouchard emoting his love for America at the time of the last sovereignty referendum. Quebec separatists have often seen a closer connection with the States as a way of leveraging themselves out of Canada, much in the same way Scottish nationalists often effuse about greater connections with Europe as a counterbalance to the English union.
Now things seem a bit different. Nowhere is the anti-Bush sentiment more pronounced than in Quebec. Does Quebec really want a closer relationship with Bush's America? Sure, the Bloq has a heavy presence in the current Parliament, but this may be due to a passing anti-Liberal protest vote as much as anything. Could it be that Bush will bring us all closer together?
Bush owes a lot to his right-wing base. With some supreme court vacancies possibly opening up, I imagine that the U.S. will become more socially conservative over the next few years. Anglo-Canadians have long fussed over establishing an identity separate from the U.S. Well, it seems Bush is helping accomplish that by default.
-Speaking of things that could unite us, what about the quaint notion of a Canadian foreign policy? I hope like hell that rather than listen to my fellow countrymen spend four years whinging about the Republican view of the world, that we might actually get off our asses and assert our own perspective around the globe.
We have record budgetary surpluses with which to fund a military that might actually be able to make a difference in a place like Rwanda or present-day Sudan, or assert a bit of a presence over our own territory (did you hear that the frigging Danes, of all people, are trying to snatch a piece of our Arctic from us?).
What about developing a serious foreign aid program, like our moneybags PM promised Bono? What about not snorting like rubes when our head of state attempts to introduce our culture to other countries?
I was willing to put money on a Bush victory, but I'm not willing to put a dime on the possibility of Canadians rousing themselves to contribute a bit more to the world than endless empty rhetoric and bitching.
-In closing, I'll leave you with an anecdote, related by actress Julianne Moore on Letterman the other week. She had driven her car from New York to Toronto, where she was making a film. While waiting to make a left turn, a bunch of locals driving by spotted her New York plates, slowed down, and shouted "Go back to Boston!"
If we wonder why Americans sometimes don't seem to be listening to the rest of the world, maybe it's because sometimes the rest of the world is not quite as smart as it thinks it is.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Well, only a weekend ‘till the U.S. election. I’m wary of predictions, but if I had to bet, I’d take Bush.
Having said that, a few late developments are making it an interesting contest. The most notable to me is the fact that a number of erstwhile Bush commentators in the U.S. have come out in favour of John Kerry. I’m doubtful of the ability of certain select pundits to influence an election outcome, but if their thinking is reflective of any kind of current in the American electorate, the Democrats may have an outside chance.
To use a baseball analogy, a few on the American political right seem to think that Bush is like the starting pitcher in a baseball game. He took them through the early innings and got some key outs. But now his arm is getting tired, he's throwing some wild pitches, and his attitude is pissing off the umpires. Time to pull him and put the relief guy in.
Here is right wing blog star Andrew Sullivan:
“If Bush is re-elected, even Britain will likely shift toward withdrawal in Iraq, compounding American isolation there and making it even harder for a new Iraqi government to gain legitimacy. In the essential tasks of building support for greater international help in Iraq - financially, militarily, diplomatically - Kerry is the better choice. No, other countries cannot bail us out or even contribute much in the way of an effective military. But within Iraq, the impact of a more international stamp on the occupation and on the elections could help us win the battle for the hearts and minds of Iraqis. That battle - as much as the one on the battlefield itself - is crucial for success. I fear Bush is too polarizing, too controversial, too loathed a figure even within his own country, to pull this off.
“...One of the great benefits of being a democracy at war is that we can change leaders and tactics to advance the same goals.”
Note that Sullivan is not anti-war. He is for the war in Iraq. He just doesn’t think Bush can finish the job. This could be a real problem for Bush. Republicans are countering that it doesn't matter who's in the White House; the French, Germans, and whoever else aren't going to help in Iraq in any case. But with support for Bush faltering even in Great Britain, where the opposition Tories are no keener on him than many in Tony Blair’s increasingly restless Labour party, the relief pitcher mentality could be factor.
Let's switch to a hockey analogy. When he coached the Canucks, Harry Neale made a controversial trade to secure Dave 'Tiger' Williams from the Toronto Maple Leafs. Though lambasted for the trade, Neale felt that Williams was the type of player who, by the very fact that he was so hated by opponents, would be valuable to the Canucks.
"If they're on the other side," said Neale of players like Williams, "you hate 'em. If they're on your side you like ‘em."
Indeed, for a while Williams was the Canucks' leading goal scorer, a pugnacious catalyst who gave the team some determination and grit.
It seems to me that Bush is seen by many Americans in the same light. They don't care if everyone else hates him. His blinkered determination and stick-it-to-em style are seen as key assets during a tough time.
The problem for Bush, though, is that a few of his former supporters are starting to look at him as a net liability. Kind of like when Tiger Williams took a dumb penalty, or when his yapping pissed off his teammates or kept the refs from giving his team the benefit of the doubt.
If enough Americans start to feel that Bush's style, or, as another pro-war pundit, Christopher Hitchens, puts it, his ‘excruciating personality’ is getting in the way, he'll be in trouble.
Add to that the fact that many conservatives feel that he's well off track. They can't stand the huge deficits he's running up. They're irritated that he's expanded certain social programs (or entitlements as they're called in the States) in order to nail down support from seniors in places like Florida. Some of them don't like his social conservatism, seeing it as unwarranted state meddling in the private affairs of citizens. And they're irritated by his immigration policies, which they see as giving a free ride to queue jumpers from Mexico as a way of shoring up the burgeoning Latino vote.
Taking the long view, some feel that a Republican defeat this time round would be better for conservatives down the road.
‘If Bush loses,’ says Andrew Sullivan, ‘the fight to recapture Republicanism from Big Government moralism will be given new energy.’
It’s one thing when Michael Moore and company wants you out. But when your own camp starts turning on you, you may have a problem.
As a final note, keep a few things in mind.
Americans, unlike a lot people from a lot of other countries, don't necessarily associate Republican presidents with war.
Think about it. Americans were led into almost every major conflict they have faced over the past 100 years by Democrats. Woodrow Wilson led them into World War I; Franklin Roosevelt led them into World War II; Harry Truman took them (with U.N. approval, mind you) into Korea; and Lyndon Johnson heavily ramped up JFK's efforts in Vietnam.
True, it was George Bush Sr. that went into Kuwait, but not without massive (including Arab) diplomatic and military support.
The guy who was supposed to the biggest maniac of them all, Ronald Reagan, had to content himself with bombing Khaddafi and locking down Grenada. Even Bill Clinton, with his attacks on Yugoslavia, Sudan, Iraq and Afghanistan, was able to drop more ordinance. (This is excluding, of course, the support Reagan lent to various goon-squad regimes in Central America.)
Perhaps Americans feel that the more ornery and crazed their leader looks, the more everyone else will step back. Again, a bit of hockey tactic, akin to Gretzky always making sure he had a Semenko or McSorley on hand.
The biggest problem for Americans is that they need a higher calibre of player altogether right now.
‘They are both second-tier politicians,’ says Andrew Sullivan of Kerry and Bush, ‘thrust into the spotlight at a time when we desperately need those in the first circle of talent and vision.’
That’s just it. The U.S. needs brawn AND brains right now, the whole package. They don’t need a Williams or a Semenko. They need a Howe, or a Messier, or an Orr.
Regrettably for all of us, there doesn't seem to be one on the horizon.
Having said that, a few late developments are making it an interesting contest. The most notable to me is the fact that a number of erstwhile Bush commentators in the U.S. have come out in favour of John Kerry. I’m doubtful of the ability of certain select pundits to influence an election outcome, but if their thinking is reflective of any kind of current in the American electorate, the Democrats may have an outside chance.
To use a baseball analogy, a few on the American political right seem to think that Bush is like the starting pitcher in a baseball game. He took them through the early innings and got some key outs. But now his arm is getting tired, he's throwing some wild pitches, and his attitude is pissing off the umpires. Time to pull him and put the relief guy in.
Here is right wing blog star Andrew Sullivan:
“If Bush is re-elected, even Britain will likely shift toward withdrawal in Iraq, compounding American isolation there and making it even harder for a new Iraqi government to gain legitimacy. In the essential tasks of building support for greater international help in Iraq - financially, militarily, diplomatically - Kerry is the better choice. No, other countries cannot bail us out or even contribute much in the way of an effective military. But within Iraq, the impact of a more international stamp on the occupation and on the elections could help us win the battle for the hearts and minds of Iraqis. That battle - as much as the one on the battlefield itself - is crucial for success. I fear Bush is too polarizing, too controversial, too loathed a figure even within his own country, to pull this off.
“...One of the great benefits of being a democracy at war is that we can change leaders and tactics to advance the same goals.”
Note that Sullivan is not anti-war. He is for the war in Iraq. He just doesn’t think Bush can finish the job. This could be a real problem for Bush. Republicans are countering that it doesn't matter who's in the White House; the French, Germans, and whoever else aren't going to help in Iraq in any case. But with support for Bush faltering even in Great Britain, where the opposition Tories are no keener on him than many in Tony Blair’s increasingly restless Labour party, the relief pitcher mentality could be factor.
Let's switch to a hockey analogy. When he coached the Canucks, Harry Neale made a controversial trade to secure Dave 'Tiger' Williams from the Toronto Maple Leafs. Though lambasted for the trade, Neale felt that Williams was the type of player who, by the very fact that he was so hated by opponents, would be valuable to the Canucks.
"If they're on the other side," said Neale of players like Williams, "you hate 'em. If they're on your side you like ‘em."
Indeed, for a while Williams was the Canucks' leading goal scorer, a pugnacious catalyst who gave the team some determination and grit.
It seems to me that Bush is seen by many Americans in the same light. They don't care if everyone else hates him. His blinkered determination and stick-it-to-em style are seen as key assets during a tough time.
The problem for Bush, though, is that a few of his former supporters are starting to look at him as a net liability. Kind of like when Tiger Williams took a dumb penalty, or when his yapping pissed off his teammates or kept the refs from giving his team the benefit of the doubt.
If enough Americans start to feel that Bush's style, or, as another pro-war pundit, Christopher Hitchens, puts it, his ‘excruciating personality’ is getting in the way, he'll be in trouble.
Add to that the fact that many conservatives feel that he's well off track. They can't stand the huge deficits he's running up. They're irritated that he's expanded certain social programs (or entitlements as they're called in the States) in order to nail down support from seniors in places like Florida. Some of them don't like his social conservatism, seeing it as unwarranted state meddling in the private affairs of citizens. And they're irritated by his immigration policies, which they see as giving a free ride to queue jumpers from Mexico as a way of shoring up the burgeoning Latino vote.
Taking the long view, some feel that a Republican defeat this time round would be better for conservatives down the road.
‘If Bush loses,’ says Andrew Sullivan, ‘the fight to recapture Republicanism from Big Government moralism will be given new energy.’
It’s one thing when Michael Moore and company wants you out. But when your own camp starts turning on you, you may have a problem.
As a final note, keep a few things in mind.
Americans, unlike a lot people from a lot of other countries, don't necessarily associate Republican presidents with war.
Think about it. Americans were led into almost every major conflict they have faced over the past 100 years by Democrats. Woodrow Wilson led them into World War I; Franklin Roosevelt led them into World War II; Harry Truman took them (with U.N. approval, mind you) into Korea; and Lyndon Johnson heavily ramped up JFK's efforts in Vietnam.
True, it was George Bush Sr. that went into Kuwait, but not without massive (including Arab) diplomatic and military support.
The guy who was supposed to the biggest maniac of them all, Ronald Reagan, had to content himself with bombing Khaddafi and locking down Grenada. Even Bill Clinton, with his attacks on Yugoslavia, Sudan, Iraq and Afghanistan, was able to drop more ordinance. (This is excluding, of course, the support Reagan lent to various goon-squad regimes in Central America.)
Perhaps Americans feel that the more ornery and crazed their leader looks, the more everyone else will step back. Again, a bit of hockey tactic, akin to Gretzky always making sure he had a Semenko or McSorley on hand.
The biggest problem for Americans is that they need a higher calibre of player altogether right now.
‘They are both second-tier politicians,’ says Andrew Sullivan of Kerry and Bush, ‘thrust into the spotlight at a time when we desperately need those in the first circle of talent and vision.’
That’s just it. The U.S. needs brawn AND brains right now, the whole package. They don’t need a Williams or a Semenko. They need a Howe, or a Messier, or an Orr.
Regrettably for all of us, there doesn't seem to be one on the horizon.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
The following gibberish was originally intended as a stream of actual blogging. Like certain other things, its release was delayed.
Noisy Summer
Saturday Aug. 7th, 3:10 pm.
I have new neighbours next door. It’s like living next door to a perpetual aerobics class.
Is it too much for seemingly intelligent people to grasp that their excessively loud ‘music’ might disturb people around them? Why are people, no matter what they’re doing, so indifferent to other people? Clearly the world would work better if people were more considerate.
I’m reminded of this again when I’m on the ferry from Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo.
Is it now some sort of tradition for louts to smoke pot on the outer deck? Never mind families with their kids. Never the rest of us. Again, anti-social behavior rules the day.
Is this what constitutes a liberal society? People must be accepted, regardless of how objectionable their behavior? They must be given space to do their thing, even if ‘their thing’ infringes on other people’s enjoyment of their own lives?
It occurs to me that in some ways, a traditional, conservative society is more co-operative, more oriented toward the collective good.
Good manners. Consideration of others. These things are denigrated in our society. In Vancouver, where idiots rant endlessly about the need for more fun, a handful of morons erode the collective respect that is necessary for a high-density population to live and work together successfully.
Is it a coincidence that a society like Japan, a heavily populated but geographically small country in which families often live in small apartments, is a society that also values politeness and courtesy more than our own?
I’m sick of this, and I’m going away.
***
6:30 pm
The leaky union out at the pumphouse is not leaking. I test the runoff taps. There’s lots of water in the pipes. Oh joy! No doubt it might start dripping later, after the pump is on and the pressure builds up. But that’s okay. If no one is here most of the time, then we’re not dripping water most of the time. Any leak that occurs is, as they would say on Star Trek, ‘within acceptable parameters.’
I really have to take a plumbing course. Some kind of entry level night class. One thing I’ve learned is that you can’t tighten too much. It’s an art. If you overtighten, you wreck the connection.
Kind of zen, that.
Sunday Aug. 8th, 11:00am
Get up early on Sunday morning, and decide on drive around the island. By chance I turn down small gravel road, and discover a beach access I have not yet explored.
Local property owners have posted innumerable ‘No Trespassing’ signs. Some fucker felled a bunch of trees along the access path to the beach.
I suspect that this is the site of the fabled Grande Hotel. The Grande was built atop a sheer rock cliff, and was the local hangout of most of the island's characters. There are legends of inebriated patrons wandering over the cliff on a dark night, but I'm not sure of their veracity.
Despite the unwelcoming signals, I persevere, and I find a superb stretch of walkable/climbable coast, with wonderful views.
The Grande seems to have been turned into a lodge/campground. Some guy in a Boston whaler, seemingly launched from the lodge, peers at me as I walk along the nearby shoreline. I am reminded of ‘Dr. No,’ when Bond and Ursula Andress are straffed by goons on a boat as they make their way along a Carribean beach toward Dr. No’s hideout.
3:30 pm
I’m not much on jazz guitarists. Frankly, I’ve scarcely listened to any of them. Obviously they’re virtuosos when compared to many of their rock counterparts, but I think the electric guitar was made for a bit of grit; the amplifier is part of the instrument.
I picked up a copy of ‘Birds of Fire,’ by John McLaughlin’s Mahavishnu Orchestra prior to heading over here. I’ve only heard McLaughlin on a couple of Miles Davis records, but he plays with a certain rock moxy. His eschews the prissy guitar tone that is the hallmark of some of his jazz cohorts, and he doesn’t shy away from The Riff.
The first thing that strikes me is the dual lead runs by Mclauchlin and violinist Jerry Goodman. Unbelievable how they synch some of these runs, but the tone begins to grate on me. A good idea, brilliantly executed, but slightly overplayed.
On the whole, though, I’m rather taken with the record. I will have to explore more McLauchlin. Bill Cobham is utterly masterful.
Sitting on an island....relaxing in the afternoon with some prog/rock/jazz fusion....looking forward to a nice drink....
I’ve become the Mule, circa 1998.
6:00pm
There was a sale at Roger’s Video at 15th and Oak last week. A whole bunch of VHS unloaded. I’m trying to build a small video library for the island, and so I picked up six movies, including ‘You Only Live Twice.’
Released in 1967, this was the film that soured Sean Connery on the Bond series. It was sprawling and over budget, and the filming went well past deadline.
The fact is, though, that any Connery Bond flick is a cut above anything else in the series. My main problem with YOLT is the admittedly absurd part where Bond is made to look Japanese.
Other than that, I quite like the movie. The setting is exotic, and the music is among the best of the series.
Roald Dahl wrote the screenplay. It has it’s moments, but it generally conforms to the Bond style. The first hour of the film rolls along beautifully. After that, it becomes a bit pedestrian.
The thing to keep in mind with the Bond movies is this: when they started the thing it 1962, they hit the jackpot. Connery was unkown at the time; the producers lucked out and got a first rate star. To use an hockey analogy, he’s a hall of fame player who’s been succeeded by a bunch of solid but unexhilarating journeymen.
But it’s not just that. The guy who directed three out of the first four Bond films, Terence Moore, was a well-heeled Englishmen of impeccible education and taste. He set the tone of the movies, giving the early ones an elegance and dry wit that is now lamentably absent. Composer John Barry created an incredible legacy. There were many others; editors, writers, and so on.
Getting all this talent in one place, at an (initially) affordable price, was a masterstroke for the series’ producers. The early Bond production lineups were like a hockey team of relative unknowns who become great, then move on as individuals to other things. If you think about it, it’s really no surprise that they couldn’t hold it together.
9:45pm
Unbelievable. I come to a gulf island to get away from noise and there’s huge party going on down the road, complete with loud music and a P.A. system.
Am I being filmed? Am I the unwitting star of some comedy series?
Aug. 9th, 2004
I’m working on a record album, and am aware that I have been the cause of some amusment to the handful of people who are awaiting the record’s release. It’s taking some time to complete.
I keep learning new things, and getting new ideas. In any case, the thing is done. I spent today working on it, laying down a couple of handdrum tracks, but this thing is basically finished.
The problem is, mixing is no mean feat. One of the biggest tasks is simply cleaning things up. You have to go through all the tracks and mute them when they’re not active. It takes forever.
This is the hard slogging that separates the pros from the pretenders in the word of recording engineers. Anyone who’s ever been in a studio is aware of the tedium of watching an engineer go track by track through the recording.
“What the fuck’s he doing?” you think to yourself, especially if you’re footing the bill. “Does it really need to take this long?”
When you try it yourself you realize that the guy in the studio is a lightspeed wizard who’s saving you about a billion man hours of sheer tedium.
I’ve found that I’ve been influenced by my contemporaries in recording as well. It’s a curious but enjoyable sensation to realize that other local musicians have more of an impact on your thinking than some hotshot rockstar.
It’s part of the process of a changing music scene. A kind of devolution is taking place.
Aug. 10/2004.
I’ve run out of overdubs. There’s nothing more I can possibly do. I’m finished with this, though I’m mindful of film director Anthony Harvey’s caveat regarding the creative process:
‘You’re never at peace.”
Lounged around for part of the day outside reading.
Noticed the headlines of the Vancouver Sun today. Something about the booming construction industry. Has everyone noticed that the Sun seems to be on some kind of campaign to convince everyone that the economy is in overdrive? These guys are little more than the P.R. wing of the B.C. Liberal party.
It’s all about Campbell. Low interest rates have nothing to do with booming real estate at all.
Aug. 11/2004
Went down to Victoria today. Took the scenic route through Saltair, Chemainus and Cowichan Bay. I advertantly came up that route a few weeks ago after attending a party of sorts on Saltspring Island. The sun had just gone down, and it was a beautiful drive.
Decided to try it again, this time in the morning. Nice, but I couldn’t recapture the majic.
Very busy in downtown Victoria. Meandered around a bit then went on a drive around the very scenic and soothing Victoria waterfront.
I’ve always liked Victoria. It’s various rocky outcrops, complete with tan grass, remind me of a few other places in the world. Edinburgh, Auckland and parts of California come to mind.
Met up with my friend Gene, who pointed out a neat little music shop on Fan Tan Alley. Will have to go back.
Surprisingly non-aggravating on the highways. Compared to the endless motoronic displays around Vancouver this is the height of civilized society.
Aug. 12/2004
Everytime I come over here something goes wrong. Today was the day. First the hose came out of the rainbarrel as I was using it, giving me an unexpected shower as I struggled to fit it back in.
I managed to (I think) fix the outhouse door, which was hanging from one hinge. The other was attached to a rotting 2X4 that disintegrated. Water supply from well seems close to depleted. Have been struggling with a dripping pumphouse union all year. Might be a factor, but I don’t think it’s the cause of the dryish well.
Tried yet another approach to sealing it. No luck.
Arrrgghhh!
Aug. 13/04
Fairly idyllic day. Nice long walk in morning. Early enough to avoid crowds except one intgriguing older woman who I’ve seen around here before. She acknowledged me on the beach, which is more than I can say for the indifferent tourists currently over-running the place.
Did some more mixing clean up. Have to sort out all the effects plug-ins so I can bounce the mixes. I’ve always liked a dry sound, but you need things like compression and reverb more than I ever realized. The ability to apply these things in the right amounts is another of the chef-like skills recording engineers must possess.
I seriously doubt that home recording will ever rob engineers of their jobs. If anything, it will create more demand and appreciation for their work.
No one is going to like this record. I’m convinced of that. And why finish it anyway? Who’s ever going to hear it? I may as well just put it away and keep working on it forever.
Lounged around outside reading and listening to Charlie Parker for a while. In the late afternoon I went to a less crowded (ie. I was the only one around) part of the island and went for a dip. Great big surf, and a nice sloping pocket of sandstone. Very warm water. Unbelievable. I didn’t want to come out.
Evening wears on. Tiresome olympic ceremony on television. I’ve run out of movies.
Aug. 14/04
Well, that’s it. When this week started it seemed to stretch eternally in front of me. Now it’s done.
Nice walk this morning over a particularly rocky stretch of coast. Saw this incredible staircase built down a cliff.
Did a bit more mixing and overdubbing. Now I’m really finished.
Saw ‘Grandma’ Vera at the museum. An old friend of my dad’s, she used to own an orange cat named ‘Charlie,’ who inspired a song. Felt good to do see her; she was in high spirits as usual. Good spirits must clearly be good for one’s health. That’s a lesson I’m trying to learn. Went for a swim down by our place, despite crowds (ie. there were appx. 10 people around). Refreshing, though not as exhilarating as yesterday.
************************
Noisy Summer Part II
Aug. 19/04.
Went home for four days, now I’m back by chance. The opportunity arose and I took it. Very glad to be here. A great trip over on the ferry, and now time to relax with a DVD of ‘Foyle’s War,’ a British mini-series I’ve becoming seriously addicted to.
Aug. 20.04
Okay, I admit it, I’m still mixing the bloody record. But I swear I’m almost done.
Watching some Olympic coverage on television while mixing. It appears that Marnie McBean has adopted the Greg Millen style of sports commentary. I pity Chris Cuthbert, who must be wondering while he’s always the one to get paired with the motormouth.
Aug. 21.04
A bit more mixing, but seriously, it’s done. More Olympics. Sprinting trials. I have a friend whose brother became a trainer to athletes a few years ago.
His day job?
Pharmacist.
Rainy day today. Good. It will fill the rain barrels. Down at the beach the wind is coming up from the southeast. Low pressure system. Counterclockwise. Still beautiful. Went to a place on the island where I could watch the waves hitting the rocks and spraying all over the place.
Back at the cabin, things are as idyllic in rain as in sun.
“Rain is different in the country,” said a former barber of mine.
Yes it is.
Only one problem; I’ve been caught unawares alcholol-wise. I’ve got lager, limes and vodka, but it’s clearly a whiskey and ale kind of day.
Aug. 22.04
Up very early today to go home. I rather dread going home, which is not good. There will be more rave music next door, and I will run the risk of turning into what Super Robertson would call a ‘rage hero.’
Have the Olympics on while I clean the place up. More rowing.
Marnie seems particularly interested the anguished facial expressions worn by rowers at the end of the races. She likens one exhausted visage to “that painting ‘The Screamer.’”
Hmmm.
Sounds like a title dreamed up by some art grad-turned porn director.
Aug. 23.04
How about that. ‘The Screamer’ has been stolen from a gallery in Oslo.
Back at the games, we have some rather disappointing rowing results.
The Canadian Olympic Committee adopted tougher standards for athletes to get to the games this time. I can remember the rowing coach commenting that he thought this was good, that only the elite athletes should be going. Presumably he felt his team was included in this category.
Perhaps he’ll be a little more charitable next time.
Frankly, Marnie McBean should get out of the booth and into a boat. My previous smartass comments notwithstanding, her and Kathleen Heddle were one of the best athletic teams this country has ever produced in any sport.
Aug. 24.04
Home now. Olympics going full bore. The best comment on the Feliecien incident comes the very same day via blog from Paul Wells of MacLeans:
“Tomorrow’s National Post editorial: Perdita Felicien fell down because Chretien kept Canada out of Iraq.”
Aug. 25.04
Much handwringing at this point over the usual disappointing medal totals. “We must provide more funding, and specialize in certain sports,” say the experts.
Actually we already do specialize in certain sports. The thing is, most of them are part of the winter games.
A quick review of the medal totals of the past three winter Olympics shows that Canada finished in 5th, 4th and 6th place respectively at Salt Lake City, Nagano and Lillehammer. In 1998, remembered by most as the year in which we didn’t win in hockey, we actually won more medals than the U.S.A.
If it weren’t for pesky little Norway, and their ability to succeed in the five dozen or so Olympic varations of cross-country skiing, we’d have a real shot at the top three.
We need a few more Canada-friendly sports in the winter games. A few more curling-like events. Maybe synchronized snowboarding. Or perhaps a Zamboni competition; who can flood the ice the fastest. Extra points for planting your national currency at centre ice.
Aug. 28.04.
From an article on Adam Van Kouverden in the Globe and Mail.
“What really hurts the amateur athlete, and rubs off on him, Mr. Oldershaw (Van Kouverden’s coach) said, is "the real apathy. I felt it myself, when I was an athlete. People would ask me what I did, and when I told them, they'd say, 'But what do you really do?' "
Sounds like being a musician.
In many respects, the Olympic athlete and the unsigned musician are a lot alike. Toiling in fields or genres that are sometimes obscure, their efforts ignored in favour of those of a handful of superstars. Is a centre on a N.F.L. team really a better athlete than a kayaker? Is a guy who can slug a baseball in the major leagues really a better athlete than a mountain biker? Especially when the former is allowed to dope up and the latter is not.
I’ll admit I’ve watched a lot of the Olympics this year. I always watch them. What I like the best about them is the unknown athelete who trains hard and grabs a medal. They’ll go back to an ‘ordinary’ life afterwards, but they will have known some real glory, some real recognition. It’s Warhol’s 15 minutes of fame syndrome.
Sept. 19th, 2004.
Today I took off back to Gabriola. Last weekend of summer. My neighbours back home have quietened down somewhat (though now that I write this I imagine they’ll fire the rave music back up).
Perhaps I judged them too harshly.
All’s well that ends well.
For now.
And now into the Autumn.
Noisy Summer
Saturday Aug. 7th, 3:10 pm.
I have new neighbours next door. It’s like living next door to a perpetual aerobics class.
Is it too much for seemingly intelligent people to grasp that their excessively loud ‘music’ might disturb people around them? Why are people, no matter what they’re doing, so indifferent to other people? Clearly the world would work better if people were more considerate.
I’m reminded of this again when I’m on the ferry from Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo.
Is it now some sort of tradition for louts to smoke pot on the outer deck? Never mind families with their kids. Never the rest of us. Again, anti-social behavior rules the day.
Is this what constitutes a liberal society? People must be accepted, regardless of how objectionable their behavior? They must be given space to do their thing, even if ‘their thing’ infringes on other people’s enjoyment of their own lives?
It occurs to me that in some ways, a traditional, conservative society is more co-operative, more oriented toward the collective good.
Good manners. Consideration of others. These things are denigrated in our society. In Vancouver, where idiots rant endlessly about the need for more fun, a handful of morons erode the collective respect that is necessary for a high-density population to live and work together successfully.
Is it a coincidence that a society like Japan, a heavily populated but geographically small country in which families often live in small apartments, is a society that also values politeness and courtesy more than our own?
I’m sick of this, and I’m going away.
***
6:30 pm
The leaky union out at the pumphouse is not leaking. I test the runoff taps. There’s lots of water in the pipes. Oh joy! No doubt it might start dripping later, after the pump is on and the pressure builds up. But that’s okay. If no one is here most of the time, then we’re not dripping water most of the time. Any leak that occurs is, as they would say on Star Trek, ‘within acceptable parameters.’
I really have to take a plumbing course. Some kind of entry level night class. One thing I’ve learned is that you can’t tighten too much. It’s an art. If you overtighten, you wreck the connection.
Kind of zen, that.
Sunday Aug. 8th, 11:00am
Get up early on Sunday morning, and decide on drive around the island. By chance I turn down small gravel road, and discover a beach access I have not yet explored.
Local property owners have posted innumerable ‘No Trespassing’ signs. Some fucker felled a bunch of trees along the access path to the beach.
I suspect that this is the site of the fabled Grande Hotel. The Grande was built atop a sheer rock cliff, and was the local hangout of most of the island's characters. There are legends of inebriated patrons wandering over the cliff on a dark night, but I'm not sure of their veracity.
Despite the unwelcoming signals, I persevere, and I find a superb stretch of walkable/climbable coast, with wonderful views.
The Grande seems to have been turned into a lodge/campground. Some guy in a Boston whaler, seemingly launched from the lodge, peers at me as I walk along the nearby shoreline. I am reminded of ‘Dr. No,’ when Bond and Ursula Andress are straffed by goons on a boat as they make their way along a Carribean beach toward Dr. No’s hideout.
3:30 pm
I’m not much on jazz guitarists. Frankly, I’ve scarcely listened to any of them. Obviously they’re virtuosos when compared to many of their rock counterparts, but I think the electric guitar was made for a bit of grit; the amplifier is part of the instrument.
I picked up a copy of ‘Birds of Fire,’ by John McLaughlin’s Mahavishnu Orchestra prior to heading over here. I’ve only heard McLaughlin on a couple of Miles Davis records, but he plays with a certain rock moxy. His eschews the prissy guitar tone that is the hallmark of some of his jazz cohorts, and he doesn’t shy away from The Riff.
The first thing that strikes me is the dual lead runs by Mclauchlin and violinist Jerry Goodman. Unbelievable how they synch some of these runs, but the tone begins to grate on me. A good idea, brilliantly executed, but slightly overplayed.
On the whole, though, I’m rather taken with the record. I will have to explore more McLauchlin. Bill Cobham is utterly masterful.
Sitting on an island....relaxing in the afternoon with some prog/rock/jazz fusion....looking forward to a nice drink....
I’ve become the Mule, circa 1998.
6:00pm
There was a sale at Roger’s Video at 15th and Oak last week. A whole bunch of VHS unloaded. I’m trying to build a small video library for the island, and so I picked up six movies, including ‘You Only Live Twice.’
Released in 1967, this was the film that soured Sean Connery on the Bond series. It was sprawling and over budget, and the filming went well past deadline.
The fact is, though, that any Connery Bond flick is a cut above anything else in the series. My main problem with YOLT is the admittedly absurd part where Bond is made to look Japanese.
Other than that, I quite like the movie. The setting is exotic, and the music is among the best of the series.
Roald Dahl wrote the screenplay. It has it’s moments, but it generally conforms to the Bond style. The first hour of the film rolls along beautifully. After that, it becomes a bit pedestrian.
The thing to keep in mind with the Bond movies is this: when they started the thing it 1962, they hit the jackpot. Connery was unkown at the time; the producers lucked out and got a first rate star. To use an hockey analogy, he’s a hall of fame player who’s been succeeded by a bunch of solid but unexhilarating journeymen.
But it’s not just that. The guy who directed three out of the first four Bond films, Terence Moore, was a well-heeled Englishmen of impeccible education and taste. He set the tone of the movies, giving the early ones an elegance and dry wit that is now lamentably absent. Composer John Barry created an incredible legacy. There were many others; editors, writers, and so on.
Getting all this talent in one place, at an (initially) affordable price, was a masterstroke for the series’ producers. The early Bond production lineups were like a hockey team of relative unknowns who become great, then move on as individuals to other things. If you think about it, it’s really no surprise that they couldn’t hold it together.
9:45pm
Unbelievable. I come to a gulf island to get away from noise and there’s huge party going on down the road, complete with loud music and a P.A. system.
Am I being filmed? Am I the unwitting star of some comedy series?
Aug. 9th, 2004
I’m working on a record album, and am aware that I have been the cause of some amusment to the handful of people who are awaiting the record’s release. It’s taking some time to complete.
I keep learning new things, and getting new ideas. In any case, the thing is done. I spent today working on it, laying down a couple of handdrum tracks, but this thing is basically finished.
The problem is, mixing is no mean feat. One of the biggest tasks is simply cleaning things up. You have to go through all the tracks and mute them when they’re not active. It takes forever.
This is the hard slogging that separates the pros from the pretenders in the word of recording engineers. Anyone who’s ever been in a studio is aware of the tedium of watching an engineer go track by track through the recording.
“What the fuck’s he doing?” you think to yourself, especially if you’re footing the bill. “Does it really need to take this long?”
When you try it yourself you realize that the guy in the studio is a lightspeed wizard who’s saving you about a billion man hours of sheer tedium.
I’ve found that I’ve been influenced by my contemporaries in recording as well. It’s a curious but enjoyable sensation to realize that other local musicians have more of an impact on your thinking than some hotshot rockstar.
It’s part of the process of a changing music scene. A kind of devolution is taking place.
Aug. 10/2004.
I’ve run out of overdubs. There’s nothing more I can possibly do. I’m finished with this, though I’m mindful of film director Anthony Harvey’s caveat regarding the creative process:
‘You’re never at peace.”
Lounged around for part of the day outside reading.
Noticed the headlines of the Vancouver Sun today. Something about the booming construction industry. Has everyone noticed that the Sun seems to be on some kind of campaign to convince everyone that the economy is in overdrive? These guys are little more than the P.R. wing of the B.C. Liberal party.
It’s all about Campbell. Low interest rates have nothing to do with booming real estate at all.
Aug. 11/2004
Went down to Victoria today. Took the scenic route through Saltair, Chemainus and Cowichan Bay. I advertantly came up that route a few weeks ago after attending a party of sorts on Saltspring Island. The sun had just gone down, and it was a beautiful drive.
Decided to try it again, this time in the morning. Nice, but I couldn’t recapture the majic.
Very busy in downtown Victoria. Meandered around a bit then went on a drive around the very scenic and soothing Victoria waterfront.
I’ve always liked Victoria. It’s various rocky outcrops, complete with tan grass, remind me of a few other places in the world. Edinburgh, Auckland and parts of California come to mind.
Met up with my friend Gene, who pointed out a neat little music shop on Fan Tan Alley. Will have to go back.
Surprisingly non-aggravating on the highways. Compared to the endless motoronic displays around Vancouver this is the height of civilized society.
Aug. 12/2004
Everytime I come over here something goes wrong. Today was the day. First the hose came out of the rainbarrel as I was using it, giving me an unexpected shower as I struggled to fit it back in.
I managed to (I think) fix the outhouse door, which was hanging from one hinge. The other was attached to a rotting 2X4 that disintegrated. Water supply from well seems close to depleted. Have been struggling with a dripping pumphouse union all year. Might be a factor, but I don’t think it’s the cause of the dryish well.
Tried yet another approach to sealing it. No luck.
Arrrgghhh!
Aug. 13/04
Fairly idyllic day. Nice long walk in morning. Early enough to avoid crowds except one intgriguing older woman who I’ve seen around here before. She acknowledged me on the beach, which is more than I can say for the indifferent tourists currently over-running the place.
Did some more mixing clean up. Have to sort out all the effects plug-ins so I can bounce the mixes. I’ve always liked a dry sound, but you need things like compression and reverb more than I ever realized. The ability to apply these things in the right amounts is another of the chef-like skills recording engineers must possess.
I seriously doubt that home recording will ever rob engineers of their jobs. If anything, it will create more demand and appreciation for their work.
No one is going to like this record. I’m convinced of that. And why finish it anyway? Who’s ever going to hear it? I may as well just put it away and keep working on it forever.
Lounged around outside reading and listening to Charlie Parker for a while. In the late afternoon I went to a less crowded (ie. I was the only one around) part of the island and went for a dip. Great big surf, and a nice sloping pocket of sandstone. Very warm water. Unbelievable. I didn’t want to come out.
Evening wears on. Tiresome olympic ceremony on television. I’ve run out of movies.
Aug. 14/04
Well, that’s it. When this week started it seemed to stretch eternally in front of me. Now it’s done.
Nice walk this morning over a particularly rocky stretch of coast. Saw this incredible staircase built down a cliff.
Did a bit more mixing and overdubbing. Now I’m really finished.
Saw ‘Grandma’ Vera at the museum. An old friend of my dad’s, she used to own an orange cat named ‘Charlie,’ who inspired a song. Felt good to do see her; she was in high spirits as usual. Good spirits must clearly be good for one’s health. That’s a lesson I’m trying to learn. Went for a swim down by our place, despite crowds (ie. there were appx. 10 people around). Refreshing, though not as exhilarating as yesterday.
************************
Noisy Summer Part II
Aug. 19/04.
Went home for four days, now I’m back by chance. The opportunity arose and I took it. Very glad to be here. A great trip over on the ferry, and now time to relax with a DVD of ‘Foyle’s War,’ a British mini-series I’ve becoming seriously addicted to.
Aug. 20.04
Okay, I admit it, I’m still mixing the bloody record. But I swear I’m almost done.
Watching some Olympic coverage on television while mixing. It appears that Marnie McBean has adopted the Greg Millen style of sports commentary. I pity Chris Cuthbert, who must be wondering while he’s always the one to get paired with the motormouth.
Aug. 21.04
A bit more mixing, but seriously, it’s done. More Olympics. Sprinting trials. I have a friend whose brother became a trainer to athletes a few years ago.
His day job?
Pharmacist.
Rainy day today. Good. It will fill the rain barrels. Down at the beach the wind is coming up from the southeast. Low pressure system. Counterclockwise. Still beautiful. Went to a place on the island where I could watch the waves hitting the rocks and spraying all over the place.
Back at the cabin, things are as idyllic in rain as in sun.
“Rain is different in the country,” said a former barber of mine.
Yes it is.
Only one problem; I’ve been caught unawares alcholol-wise. I’ve got lager, limes and vodka, but it’s clearly a whiskey and ale kind of day.
Aug. 22.04
Up very early today to go home. I rather dread going home, which is not good. There will be more rave music next door, and I will run the risk of turning into what Super Robertson would call a ‘rage hero.’
Have the Olympics on while I clean the place up. More rowing.
Marnie seems particularly interested the anguished facial expressions worn by rowers at the end of the races. She likens one exhausted visage to “that painting ‘The Screamer.’”
Hmmm.
Sounds like a title dreamed up by some art grad-turned porn director.
Aug. 23.04
How about that. ‘The Screamer’ has been stolen from a gallery in Oslo.
Back at the games, we have some rather disappointing rowing results.
The Canadian Olympic Committee adopted tougher standards for athletes to get to the games this time. I can remember the rowing coach commenting that he thought this was good, that only the elite athletes should be going. Presumably he felt his team was included in this category.
Perhaps he’ll be a little more charitable next time.
Frankly, Marnie McBean should get out of the booth and into a boat. My previous smartass comments notwithstanding, her and Kathleen Heddle were one of the best athletic teams this country has ever produced in any sport.
Aug. 24.04
Home now. Olympics going full bore. The best comment on the Feliecien incident comes the very same day via blog from Paul Wells of MacLeans:
“Tomorrow’s National Post editorial: Perdita Felicien fell down because Chretien kept Canada out of Iraq.”
Aug. 25.04
Much handwringing at this point over the usual disappointing medal totals. “We must provide more funding, and specialize in certain sports,” say the experts.
Actually we already do specialize in certain sports. The thing is, most of them are part of the winter games.
A quick review of the medal totals of the past three winter Olympics shows that Canada finished in 5th, 4th and 6th place respectively at Salt Lake City, Nagano and Lillehammer. In 1998, remembered by most as the year in which we didn’t win in hockey, we actually won more medals than the U.S.A.
If it weren’t for pesky little Norway, and their ability to succeed in the five dozen or so Olympic varations of cross-country skiing, we’d have a real shot at the top three.
We need a few more Canada-friendly sports in the winter games. A few more curling-like events. Maybe synchronized snowboarding. Or perhaps a Zamboni competition; who can flood the ice the fastest. Extra points for planting your national currency at centre ice.
Aug. 28.04.
From an article on Adam Van Kouverden in the Globe and Mail.
“What really hurts the amateur athlete, and rubs off on him, Mr. Oldershaw (Van Kouverden’s coach) said, is "the real apathy. I felt it myself, when I was an athlete. People would ask me what I did, and when I told them, they'd say, 'But what do you really do?' "
Sounds like being a musician.
In many respects, the Olympic athlete and the unsigned musician are a lot alike. Toiling in fields or genres that are sometimes obscure, their efforts ignored in favour of those of a handful of superstars. Is a centre on a N.F.L. team really a better athlete than a kayaker? Is a guy who can slug a baseball in the major leagues really a better athlete than a mountain biker? Especially when the former is allowed to dope up and the latter is not.
I’ll admit I’ve watched a lot of the Olympics this year. I always watch them. What I like the best about them is the unknown athelete who trains hard and grabs a medal. They’ll go back to an ‘ordinary’ life afterwards, but they will have known some real glory, some real recognition. It’s Warhol’s 15 minutes of fame syndrome.
Sept. 19th, 2004.
Today I took off back to Gabriola. Last weekend of summer. My neighbours back home have quietened down somewhat (though now that I write this I imagine they’ll fire the rave music back up).
Perhaps I judged them too harshly.
All’s well that ends well.
For now.
And now into the Autumn.
Friday, September 10, 2004
"I'm gonna weed out the in-crowd, just like Carrie at the senior prom
I tell ya, I'll take a toll on the honour roll when I finally detonate my bomb."
‘Radio Central’ by Klagg.
I remember the evening of September 10th, 2001, very well. I was lounging around my place, and happened to tune in to a local rock station just after 11:00 pm. Playing on the radio at that moment was a band called Klagg.
This was the one and only time that Klagg ever received radio airplay. I can say this with some certainty because I was in the band. What amused me at the time was that the DJ chose a song called 'She's a Curler,' which featured lyrics and vocals by drummer Rob Mule. I was amused because the Mule was always a rather uncompromising guy when it came to writing and recording songs. He scorned things like airplay, much to the chagrin of Klagg's bassist, J.R. McClelland.
I can remember recording the album on which 'She's a Curler' appears. There was a bit of tension over some of Rob's lyrics; his use of the word ‘fucking’ on a porn-inspired tune called 'Suitcase Pimp,' for instance. "It might harm our chances of airplay," warned J.R., a caveat which was shot down with absolute scorn by the Mule.
All of the Mule's lyrics were particulary biting on this album. There was 'Racing to a Red Light,' a taut indictment of the idiocy of local drivers. There was 'Swinging Ronnie,' about a suicidal Gulf Island theatre troup leader.
But the most arresting of them all was 'Radio Central.'
The song was put together not long after the Columbine massacre in Colorado. Sung from the point of view a grudge-bearing student, it details the run up to an attack on a high school.
"I've got a song playing in my head, and it's telling me 'enough's enough,'" goes one of the opening lines. But it's not quite that simple. The song's vengeful protagonist has a unique weapon of choice...music. His intention is not to kill anyone, but to use the school P.A. system to assualt their preppy sensibilities with...well, knowing the Mule, I'd imagine he'd be using Danish prog-metal or some such thing.
The song was still a bit unnerving, though. Luckily Rob is a skilled writer. But the sheer horror and nihilism of the Columbine attack was not a subject to trifle with. It's one thing to be resentful of the big-shots, the in-crowd, but quite another to identify with the kind of sadism and cruelty practiced by a pack of deranged killers.
Which brings me to the morning after Sept. 10th, 2001.
"A Bully With a Bloody Nose is Still a Bully," read one of the op-ed headlines in England's Guardian newspaper in the days after the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York and Washington. It became surprisingly clear to me in the aftermath of the attacks that there were quite a few people who were not so displeased. The in-crowd, geopolitically speaking, had been weeded out a bit.
“I can see their point, I can see their point,” said a earnest female co-worker of mine. Whose point? Why, that of Mohamed Atta and his friends. (Whether Mr. Atta, in turn, would be able to see things from the perspective of an outspoken woman with an ever-evolving series of beefcake screensavers would, I assume, be another matter.)
What first repulsed me about this view was how easily the lives of those involved were written off by people who suppedly prided themselves on a more evolved concern for their fellow human beings. I kept imagining what it would be like to be a passenger on a plane that was being deliberately flown into a building. A wrenchingly cruel way to take someone’s life from them.
But for much of the political left it was ‘oh well, that’s what you get for deposing Allende in 1973.’
That’s the gist of it. America is a powerful country. It has abused that power with a sometimes brutal foreign policy, and has got its comeuppance.
But is it really that simple?
First of all, this kind of terrorism is not the work of some band of Central American peasants fighting against some propped-up dictatorship.
It has its roots in religious fundamentalism. This fundamentalism has been largely agressive in nature; in the past decade alone there have been deadly attacks in France (not exactly an anti-Arab foreign policy there), India, the Phillipines, Indonesia, parts of Africa, not to mention various parts of the Arab world.
American foreign policy has not been the issue in many of these situations. In fact, the U.S. has come down on the side of Islam (Kosovo, Afganistan in the 1980s) in some instances. And it's not simply U.S. foreign policy, or conservative political thought, that is always at the target of many acts of terror or anti-western hatred.
A female member of Canada's Al Qaeda poster family, the Kadrs, has spoken of how she doesn't want her sons raised in the west lest they become gay. This kind of hatred and contempt has nothing to do with U.S. foreign policy. It is the liberalism of the west, not any sort of conservatism, that seems most disagreeable to Mrs. Kadr.
Or consider recent events in France. In an effort to keep their public schools free of religious bias or influence, France has a long-standing policy of not allowing religious clothing or ornamentation at school. Accordingly, they introduce a ban on Muslim headscarves (as they have on the attire worn by practitioners of other religions). And almost instantly two French journalists are kidnapped by Islamic ‘militants’ and threatened with death.
Again, this has nothing to do with American foreign policy, or even French foreign policy. It has to do with a particularly liberal, secular element of French domestic policy, which is evidently deemed by some Muslims in a competely different part of the world to be just as much of a threat to them.
Remember the price the ayatollahs put on Salman Rushdie's head years ago? For what? Writing a book, published in the west, that contained a bit of cheek about Islam. Imagine if the Christian leadership of some country had put a one million dollar bounty on John Cleese's head after 'The Life of Brian' came out. Would you make excuses for them? Would you identify with them? Would you be able to see their point?
The U.S.-as-international bully argument can be an enticing one, but it’s a bit of a red herring in this instance. If every nation that has lorded it over others is due for a terrorist wipeout, then most of Western Europe’s countries, colonial bullies for much of the past 500 years, should be well ahead of the U.S.A. in the line.
Or let’s look at our own country. Consider our native indians. They had the run of the place for a thousand years, now they wade through endless court challenges to reclaim a parcel here and there. Think of their kids, confiscated and abused in religious schools as recently as a generation ago. Surely they have more of a greivance than a handful of high-society Saudi highjackers.
And yet if one of them planted a bomb in Vancouver, maybe taking out someone you knew, would you smugly assert that the victims had it coming to them?
It says something about how detached Canadians are from reality that we are so quick to resent the powerful United States, and yet not grasp that in the overall scheme of things, we are at least as priviledged in this world as they are. Thirty-two million of us on a huge land mass, eating up more energy per capita than any country on earth. Wasting water by the lakefull while others around the world can't wash or drink or irrigate their land. Decrying American defense spending while our auto workers, in our biggest industry, make good money putting together amoured military vehicles for U.S. companies.
The fact is, we are as much a part of the in-crowd as our friends down south, and if this terrorist weeding-out is a reaction against greed, consumption, and indifference to global problems, we’ll end up on the compost right along side them.
Here are the basic facts concerning the kind of Islamist terrorism we saw three years ago:
-It is based on a fundamentalist strain of Islam, it is violently evangelical in nature, and it is not by a long stretch soley reacting to, or directed at, America or U.S. foreign policy.
-Sept. 11, 2001 demonstrates that there are essentially no limits to how far its adherents will go. You can dismiss it as rhetoric if you want, but if these guys got hold of an nuclear weapon they'd likely use it.
I’m being too hard on Islam, you think? Well, no. If it were a band of Christian fundamentalists flying planes into buildings I’d resent them for it as well. Christian history has a pretty bloody side to it, the worst of it, fortunately, taking place in a pre-nuclear era. Shall we stand by and let another religion rehash the same series of tyrannies, with more lethal weapons at their disposal, in the name of ‘balance’ or political correctness?
What's that? You say you don't like George W. Bush? Well, fine. I'm not fond of the guy either. But it's not about him. It started before him, it will continue after him. The planning for the 2001 attacks was under way well before he took office. Whether his way of dealing with the issue is helping or hurting is a serious question, but to say that he is the cause of the problem is simple ignorance.
You say there’s something more? You think the C.I.A. was in on the whole September 11th operation? Well, okay. I can see you have more important things to deal with, like the fact that all your relatives’ bodies have been taken over by aliens and your television is sending you coded instructions from outer space.
Let’s be serious.
Recently there was an attack in Jakarta, Indonesia; the Australian embassy was hit by a bomb. It was supposed to be about Australia's support for the Iraq war. The thing is, though, no Australians were killed, just a bunch of Indonesian passers-by, office workers, and security guards.
(Incidentally, this attack has some noteworthy lessons for Canadians, for it shows you that in the terrorist mindset, a secondary target will do in a pinch. You want to blow up some Aussies, but can't get into Australia? Well, take the next best option and blow up a bunch of Jakartans in the vicinity of the Australian embassy instead.)
"This is not about Australia," said one Indonesian citizen. "We are all potential victims."
Which brings me back to Columbine.
What has always struck me about the Columbine killings was the diversity of the victims. If you believe a lot of the media reports, it was supposed to be about getting the big shots, but if you look at who the victims were, the nice-guy nerds seem to have gotten hit just as bad.
And that's the point.
When it comes to the kind of terrorism we saw on September 11, 2001, and that we continue to see, one thing is certain. Whether you like it or not, or want to admit it or not, we all ultimately look the same to the guys pulling the trigger.
And you have a lot more in common with the 'bully' beside you than you do with the killers coming down the hall.
‹
I tell ya, I'll take a toll on the honour roll when I finally detonate my bomb."
‘Radio Central’ by Klagg.
I remember the evening of September 10th, 2001, very well. I was lounging around my place, and happened to tune in to a local rock station just after 11:00 pm. Playing on the radio at that moment was a band called Klagg.
This was the one and only time that Klagg ever received radio airplay. I can say this with some certainty because I was in the band. What amused me at the time was that the DJ chose a song called 'She's a Curler,' which featured lyrics and vocals by drummer Rob Mule. I was amused because the Mule was always a rather uncompromising guy when it came to writing and recording songs. He scorned things like airplay, much to the chagrin of Klagg's bassist, J.R. McClelland.
I can remember recording the album on which 'She's a Curler' appears. There was a bit of tension over some of Rob's lyrics; his use of the word ‘fucking’ on a porn-inspired tune called 'Suitcase Pimp,' for instance. "It might harm our chances of airplay," warned J.R., a caveat which was shot down with absolute scorn by the Mule.
All of the Mule's lyrics were particulary biting on this album. There was 'Racing to a Red Light,' a taut indictment of the idiocy of local drivers. There was 'Swinging Ronnie,' about a suicidal Gulf Island theatre troup leader.
But the most arresting of them all was 'Radio Central.'
The song was put together not long after the Columbine massacre in Colorado. Sung from the point of view a grudge-bearing student, it details the run up to an attack on a high school.
"I've got a song playing in my head, and it's telling me 'enough's enough,'" goes one of the opening lines. But it's not quite that simple. The song's vengeful protagonist has a unique weapon of choice...music. His intention is not to kill anyone, but to use the school P.A. system to assualt their preppy sensibilities with...well, knowing the Mule, I'd imagine he'd be using Danish prog-metal or some such thing.
The song was still a bit unnerving, though. Luckily Rob is a skilled writer. But the sheer horror and nihilism of the Columbine attack was not a subject to trifle with. It's one thing to be resentful of the big-shots, the in-crowd, but quite another to identify with the kind of sadism and cruelty practiced by a pack of deranged killers.
Which brings me to the morning after Sept. 10th, 2001.
"A Bully With a Bloody Nose is Still a Bully," read one of the op-ed headlines in England's Guardian newspaper in the days after the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York and Washington. It became surprisingly clear to me in the aftermath of the attacks that there were quite a few people who were not so displeased. The in-crowd, geopolitically speaking, had been weeded out a bit.
“I can see their point, I can see their point,” said a earnest female co-worker of mine. Whose point? Why, that of Mohamed Atta and his friends. (Whether Mr. Atta, in turn, would be able to see things from the perspective of an outspoken woman with an ever-evolving series of beefcake screensavers would, I assume, be another matter.)
What first repulsed me about this view was how easily the lives of those involved were written off by people who suppedly prided themselves on a more evolved concern for their fellow human beings. I kept imagining what it would be like to be a passenger on a plane that was being deliberately flown into a building. A wrenchingly cruel way to take someone’s life from them.
But for much of the political left it was ‘oh well, that’s what you get for deposing Allende in 1973.’
That’s the gist of it. America is a powerful country. It has abused that power with a sometimes brutal foreign policy, and has got its comeuppance.
But is it really that simple?
First of all, this kind of terrorism is not the work of some band of Central American peasants fighting against some propped-up dictatorship.
It has its roots in religious fundamentalism. This fundamentalism has been largely agressive in nature; in the past decade alone there have been deadly attacks in France (not exactly an anti-Arab foreign policy there), India, the Phillipines, Indonesia, parts of Africa, not to mention various parts of the Arab world.
American foreign policy has not been the issue in many of these situations. In fact, the U.S. has come down on the side of Islam (Kosovo, Afganistan in the 1980s) in some instances. And it's not simply U.S. foreign policy, or conservative political thought, that is always at the target of many acts of terror or anti-western hatred.
A female member of Canada's Al Qaeda poster family, the Kadrs, has spoken of how she doesn't want her sons raised in the west lest they become gay. This kind of hatred and contempt has nothing to do with U.S. foreign policy. It is the liberalism of the west, not any sort of conservatism, that seems most disagreeable to Mrs. Kadr.
Or consider recent events in France. In an effort to keep their public schools free of religious bias or influence, France has a long-standing policy of not allowing religious clothing or ornamentation at school. Accordingly, they introduce a ban on Muslim headscarves (as they have on the attire worn by practitioners of other religions). And almost instantly two French journalists are kidnapped by Islamic ‘militants’ and threatened with death.
Again, this has nothing to do with American foreign policy, or even French foreign policy. It has to do with a particularly liberal, secular element of French domestic policy, which is evidently deemed by some Muslims in a competely different part of the world to be just as much of a threat to them.
Remember the price the ayatollahs put on Salman Rushdie's head years ago? For what? Writing a book, published in the west, that contained a bit of cheek about Islam. Imagine if the Christian leadership of some country had put a one million dollar bounty on John Cleese's head after 'The Life of Brian' came out. Would you make excuses for them? Would you identify with them? Would you be able to see their point?
The U.S.-as-international bully argument can be an enticing one, but it’s a bit of a red herring in this instance. If every nation that has lorded it over others is due for a terrorist wipeout, then most of Western Europe’s countries, colonial bullies for much of the past 500 years, should be well ahead of the U.S.A. in the line.
Or let’s look at our own country. Consider our native indians. They had the run of the place for a thousand years, now they wade through endless court challenges to reclaim a parcel here and there. Think of their kids, confiscated and abused in religious schools as recently as a generation ago. Surely they have more of a greivance than a handful of high-society Saudi highjackers.
And yet if one of them planted a bomb in Vancouver, maybe taking out someone you knew, would you smugly assert that the victims had it coming to them?
It says something about how detached Canadians are from reality that we are so quick to resent the powerful United States, and yet not grasp that in the overall scheme of things, we are at least as priviledged in this world as they are. Thirty-two million of us on a huge land mass, eating up more energy per capita than any country on earth. Wasting water by the lakefull while others around the world can't wash or drink or irrigate their land. Decrying American defense spending while our auto workers, in our biggest industry, make good money putting together amoured military vehicles for U.S. companies.
The fact is, we are as much a part of the in-crowd as our friends down south, and if this terrorist weeding-out is a reaction against greed, consumption, and indifference to global problems, we’ll end up on the compost right along side them.
Here are the basic facts concerning the kind of Islamist terrorism we saw three years ago:
-It is based on a fundamentalist strain of Islam, it is violently evangelical in nature, and it is not by a long stretch soley reacting to, or directed at, America or U.S. foreign policy.
-Sept. 11, 2001 demonstrates that there are essentially no limits to how far its adherents will go. You can dismiss it as rhetoric if you want, but if these guys got hold of an nuclear weapon they'd likely use it.
I’m being too hard on Islam, you think? Well, no. If it were a band of Christian fundamentalists flying planes into buildings I’d resent them for it as well. Christian history has a pretty bloody side to it, the worst of it, fortunately, taking place in a pre-nuclear era. Shall we stand by and let another religion rehash the same series of tyrannies, with more lethal weapons at their disposal, in the name of ‘balance’ or political correctness?
What's that? You say you don't like George W. Bush? Well, fine. I'm not fond of the guy either. But it's not about him. It started before him, it will continue after him. The planning for the 2001 attacks was under way well before he took office. Whether his way of dealing with the issue is helping or hurting is a serious question, but to say that he is the cause of the problem is simple ignorance.
You say there’s something more? You think the C.I.A. was in on the whole September 11th operation? Well, okay. I can see you have more important things to deal with, like the fact that all your relatives’ bodies have been taken over by aliens and your television is sending you coded instructions from outer space.
Let’s be serious.
Recently there was an attack in Jakarta, Indonesia; the Australian embassy was hit by a bomb. It was supposed to be about Australia's support for the Iraq war. The thing is, though, no Australians were killed, just a bunch of Indonesian passers-by, office workers, and security guards.
(Incidentally, this attack has some noteworthy lessons for Canadians, for it shows you that in the terrorist mindset, a secondary target will do in a pinch. You want to blow up some Aussies, but can't get into Australia? Well, take the next best option and blow up a bunch of Jakartans in the vicinity of the Australian embassy instead.)
"This is not about Australia," said one Indonesian citizen. "We are all potential victims."
Which brings me back to Columbine.
What has always struck me about the Columbine killings was the diversity of the victims. If you believe a lot of the media reports, it was supposed to be about getting the big shots, but if you look at who the victims were, the nice-guy nerds seem to have gotten hit just as bad.
And that's the point.
When it comes to the kind of terrorism we saw on September 11, 2001, and that we continue to see, one thing is certain. Whether you like it or not, or want to admit it or not, we all ultimately look the same to the guys pulling the trigger.
And you have a lot more in common with the 'bully' beside you than you do with the killers coming down the hall.
‹
Thursday, July 22, 2004
Interesting. A stat that popped up in the news this week regarding marijuana imports to the United States.
"Citing the latest seizure statistics, the RCMP says the amount smuggled in from Mexico makes the Canadian supply seem paltry.
Some 15,700 kilograms of pot were detected moving into the U.S. from Canada last year.
In contrast, more than 400,000 kilograms were seized at America's border with Mexico."
Nonetheless, certain American law enforcers point the finger at Canada as a drug-procuring menace.
"This issue for us is that Canada has become a major supplier of certain drugs," said John Walters, the U.S. Drug Control Policy Director in December 2002.
Of course, with George W. Bush trying mightily to woo the Hispanic vote for the upcoming U.S. election, it would be bad form to point the accusatory finger south.
So Canada, already on the usual suspect list for terrorist imports, now becomes the drug-pushing corrupter of American youth as well.
Weren't things just a whole lot better when they didn't know we existed?
u
"Citing the latest seizure statistics, the RCMP says the amount smuggled in from Mexico makes the Canadian supply seem paltry.
Some 15,700 kilograms of pot were detected moving into the U.S. from Canada last year.
In contrast, more than 400,000 kilograms were seized at America's border with Mexico."
Nonetheless, certain American law enforcers point the finger at Canada as a drug-procuring menace.
"This issue for us is that Canada has become a major supplier of certain drugs," said John Walters, the U.S. Drug Control Policy Director in December 2002.
Of course, with George W. Bush trying mightily to woo the Hispanic vote for the upcoming U.S. election, it would be bad form to point the accusatory finger south.
So Canada, already on the usual suspect list for terrorist imports, now becomes the drug-pushing corrupter of American youth as well.
Weren't things just a whole lot better when they didn't know we existed?
u
Friday, June 04, 2004
"Old soldiers never die, they just fade away."
So said Douglas MacAurthur, the American general who earned fame in the Korean and Second World Wars.
But what happens to old politicians? Well, if you look at some of our former Prime Ministers of late, it seems they neither die nor fade away, but rather ascend to a kind of corporate heaven of their own making.
They step out of office flush with connections and contacts, which they then parlay into consulting fees, corporate directorships, commissions...in short, a lot of cash.
And power. They often end up with more influence as brokers than they had as politicians. It makes you wonder if the PM's job represents more of a corporate apprenticeship than the pinnacle of public service.
If you think about it, the role of Canadian Prime Minister carries with it a lot of networking opportunities. Imagine all of the exclusive clubs that Canada belongs to, each of them presenting a chance to hobnob with a different set of world leaders.
Look it from any PM's perspective. We're in the Group of Eight, which gives you access to the leaders of the world's major economies. We're in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, which puts you in the same room as the heads of most of Europe. We're in the Organization of American States, which takes care of Latin and South America. Then there's the British Commonwealth, which lets you schmooze with a vertable smorgazboard of honchos; Caribbean leaders, Australia, New Zeleand, India, Pakistan, Malaysia, just to name a few, plus half the dictators in Africa. And of course La Francaphonie, the assembly of French-speaking nations, which gives you many of the other African heads and a handful of Arab strongmen to boot.
Think of how many names you'd have in your little black book after nine or ten years of this kind of glad-handing.
Let's look at the last two guys to have held the office of Prime Minister for any length of time; Brian Mulroney and Jean Chrétien.
Not long after leaving office in 1993, Mulroney scored a $300,000 consulting fee from German-Canadian businessman Karlheinz Schreiber. That's small potatoes nowadays for the boy from Baie Comeau. Mulroney has since made multi-millions through various commissions and directorships.
He's now got a swank home in Palm Beach, Florida, to go with his Montreal mansion; a new base from which to move through the ranks of the mega-powerful. Well-connected to the Bush dynasty, as well as various other international moguls, Mulroney has never been riding so high.
According to author Peter C. Newman, Mulroney "nurtured and expanded his relationships among America's corporate elite while he was in office." Since then he "has emerged as a major player in the shadowy world of international geopolitics, constantly consulted by the rich and powerful, who hand him lucrative assignments and endow him with greater global clout than he had as Prime Minister of Canada."
Peter Munk, who presides over the gold mining giant Barrick and real estate powerhouse TrizecHahn, told Newman that Mulroney "has got this unbelievable network that he has spent years and years developing." (Newman also quotes Munk as saying that Mulroney "knows every dictator in the world on a first name basis," but Munk has since denied making the comment.) Munk shrewdly nabbed Mulroney for the boards of both Barrick and TrizecHahn in 1993, on the heels of the latter's departure from offce. They were the first of several such appointments for the former Conservative Prime Minister.
As for Chrétien, he was out of office for all of two months when he took off to China to do some moving and shaking.
"By moving so quickly into the Chinese business world," wrote Globe and Mail reporter Geoffrey York last February, "Mr. Chrétien will be able to capitalize on his extensive political dealings with Chinese leaders over the past decade. As Prime Minister he visited China six times, led two Team Canada trade and investment missions to the country and met frequently with its top leaders."
Even more recently, Chrétien landed himself an advisory position with a firm called PetroKazakhstan. The firm is based in Calgary, but, as its name implies, it does much of its business in the former Soviet republic. A quick glance at a map will reveal that Kazakhstan is located right beside China, and in fact PetroKazakhstan is actively seeking to export oil to China.
It turns out that most of Chrétien's February trip to China was organized by the China International Trust and Investment Corporation (CITIC). CITIC is a huge commercial arm of the Chinese government, involved globally in everything from energy to finance to real estate to military hardware. It's directors report to China's State Council, the nation's executive ruling body. Not a bad contact to have if you're trying to navigate through a Byzantine bureaucracy en route to a massive and potentially lucrative industrial and consumer market.
Perhaps it's impolite to suggest that Chrétien was getting a head start on his new job while he was still in the old one, but the fact is he toured China just before stepping down late last year, and made a point of meeting with Chinese Prime Minister Wen Jiabao on his last day in office on December 12th, 2003.
And Chrétien is not new to the game of marketing his own "judgment and experience" to well-heeled corporate clients. Between 1986, when he quit public office, and 1990, when he re-entered the political arena as Liberal leader, he made good money providing his services to various business interests in Ottawa. His current dealings in China can be set alongside a number of positions he has landed for himself in the brief time since he left politics. So far he's ensconsed himself with three separate law firms, each of whom presumably hopes to benefit from his circle of influence.
Is any of this illegal? Oh, heaven forbid. Keep in mind that most of these guys begin their long politi-corporate careers in law school; the smarter ones tend to know exactly where the line is drawn and which side of it to stay on. And there's nothing wrong with making a buck, even if it is on top of a pretty lucrative pension package paid for by the Canadian public.
But is there not something rank about the idea of the highest office in the land serving as a mere stepping stone, a chance to make some contacts and fatten the rolodex? We go to the polling station looking for statesmen on the ballot, but what we get are a bunch of careerists climbing the corporate ladder. A ladder in which the office of Prime Minister appears simply to be another step, and one that's notably below the top rung.
Not to mention the example this sets to politicians at lower levels of office. We are continually told not to be cynical about politics, that there are many good elected representatives seeking to serve the public. Fine. But there also seem to be a hell of a lot of them who see a political role as another way of wrangling invites to various high-rollers' backrooms.
All of which provides some food for thought as we head to the polls on June 28th. If you're a little unsure of who to vote for, if you're a bit uncertain as to who can best handle various issues, relax. After all, it's not like you're electing a future leader.
You're merely electing a future lobbyist.
So said Douglas MacAurthur, the American general who earned fame in the Korean and Second World Wars.
But what happens to old politicians? Well, if you look at some of our former Prime Ministers of late, it seems they neither die nor fade away, but rather ascend to a kind of corporate heaven of their own making.
They step out of office flush with connections and contacts, which they then parlay into consulting fees, corporate directorships, commissions...in short, a lot of cash.
And power. They often end up with more influence as brokers than they had as politicians. It makes you wonder if the PM's job represents more of a corporate apprenticeship than the pinnacle of public service.
If you think about it, the role of Canadian Prime Minister carries with it a lot of networking opportunities. Imagine all of the exclusive clubs that Canada belongs to, each of them presenting a chance to hobnob with a different set of world leaders.
Look it from any PM's perspective. We're in the Group of Eight, which gives you access to the leaders of the world's major economies. We're in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, which puts you in the same room as the heads of most of Europe. We're in the Organization of American States, which takes care of Latin and South America. Then there's the British Commonwealth, which lets you schmooze with a vertable smorgazboard of honchos; Caribbean leaders, Australia, New Zeleand, India, Pakistan, Malaysia, just to name a few, plus half the dictators in Africa. And of course La Francaphonie, the assembly of French-speaking nations, which gives you many of the other African heads and a handful of Arab strongmen to boot.
Think of how many names you'd have in your little black book after nine or ten years of this kind of glad-handing.
Let's look at the last two guys to have held the office of Prime Minister for any length of time; Brian Mulroney and Jean Chrétien.
Not long after leaving office in 1993, Mulroney scored a $300,000 consulting fee from German-Canadian businessman Karlheinz Schreiber. That's small potatoes nowadays for the boy from Baie Comeau. Mulroney has since made multi-millions through various commissions and directorships.
He's now got a swank home in Palm Beach, Florida, to go with his Montreal mansion; a new base from which to move through the ranks of the mega-powerful. Well-connected to the Bush dynasty, as well as various other international moguls, Mulroney has never been riding so high.
According to author Peter C. Newman, Mulroney "nurtured and expanded his relationships among America's corporate elite while he was in office." Since then he "has emerged as a major player in the shadowy world of international geopolitics, constantly consulted by the rich and powerful, who hand him lucrative assignments and endow him with greater global clout than he had as Prime Minister of Canada."
Peter Munk, who presides over the gold mining giant Barrick and real estate powerhouse TrizecHahn, told Newman that Mulroney "has got this unbelievable network that he has spent years and years developing." (Newman also quotes Munk as saying that Mulroney "knows every dictator in the world on a first name basis," but Munk has since denied making the comment.) Munk shrewdly nabbed Mulroney for the boards of both Barrick and TrizecHahn in 1993, on the heels of the latter's departure from offce. They were the first of several such appointments for the former Conservative Prime Minister.
As for Chrétien, he was out of office for all of two months when he took off to China to do some moving and shaking.
"By moving so quickly into the Chinese business world," wrote Globe and Mail reporter Geoffrey York last February, "Mr. Chrétien will be able to capitalize on his extensive political dealings with Chinese leaders over the past decade. As Prime Minister he visited China six times, led two Team Canada trade and investment missions to the country and met frequently with its top leaders."
Even more recently, Chrétien landed himself an advisory position with a firm called PetroKazakhstan. The firm is based in Calgary, but, as its name implies, it does much of its business in the former Soviet republic. A quick glance at a map will reveal that Kazakhstan is located right beside China, and in fact PetroKazakhstan is actively seeking to export oil to China.
It turns out that most of Chrétien's February trip to China was organized by the China International Trust and Investment Corporation (CITIC). CITIC is a huge commercial arm of the Chinese government, involved globally in everything from energy to finance to real estate to military hardware. It's directors report to China's State Council, the nation's executive ruling body. Not a bad contact to have if you're trying to navigate through a Byzantine bureaucracy en route to a massive and potentially lucrative industrial and consumer market.
Perhaps it's impolite to suggest that Chrétien was getting a head start on his new job while he was still in the old one, but the fact is he toured China just before stepping down late last year, and made a point of meeting with Chinese Prime Minister Wen Jiabao on his last day in office on December 12th, 2003.
And Chrétien is not new to the game of marketing his own "judgment and experience" to well-heeled corporate clients. Between 1986, when he quit public office, and 1990, when he re-entered the political arena as Liberal leader, he made good money providing his services to various business interests in Ottawa. His current dealings in China can be set alongside a number of positions he has landed for himself in the brief time since he left politics. So far he's ensconsed himself with three separate law firms, each of whom presumably hopes to benefit from his circle of influence.
Is any of this illegal? Oh, heaven forbid. Keep in mind that most of these guys begin their long politi-corporate careers in law school; the smarter ones tend to know exactly where the line is drawn and which side of it to stay on. And there's nothing wrong with making a buck, even if it is on top of a pretty lucrative pension package paid for by the Canadian public.
But is there not something rank about the idea of the highest office in the land serving as a mere stepping stone, a chance to make some contacts and fatten the rolodex? We go to the polling station looking for statesmen on the ballot, but what we get are a bunch of careerists climbing the corporate ladder. A ladder in which the office of Prime Minister appears simply to be another step, and one that's notably below the top rung.
Not to mention the example this sets to politicians at lower levels of office. We are continually told not to be cynical about politics, that there are many good elected representatives seeking to serve the public. Fine. But there also seem to be a hell of a lot of them who see a political role as another way of wrangling invites to various high-rollers' backrooms.
All of which provides some food for thought as we head to the polls on June 28th. If you're a little unsure of who to vote for, if you're a bit uncertain as to who can best handle various issues, relax. After all, it's not like you're electing a future leader.
You're merely electing a future lobbyist.
Thursday, March 11, 2004
You can find a lot of people in Vancouver who remember the Canucks' 1994 drive to the Stanley Cup final. Far fewer seem to recall that the Canucks made an earlier trip to the final in 1982 with a team which, on paper at least, was much less gifted.
Of course, it all depends on how you define the word 'gifted.' The Canucks opened the 1982 playoffs against the Calgary Flames. The Flames were not yet the powerhouse they would become later in the decade, but some of the main ingredients were already in place, key among them being sniper Lanny MacDonald.
The Canucks had mounted a late season winning streak, and edged out the Flames at the wire to claim home ice advantage. It was their first playoff appearance in a few years, and the Vancouver fans were far from convinced that it would lead anywhere; the building was only about three-quarters full for the opening game.
The tone of the series was set in the first five seconds. Flames enforcer Willi Plett lined up at centre ice for the opening faceoff against Canuck left winger Curt Fraser. Fraser was smaller than Plett, but he was a fearsome fighter. As soon as the puck was dropped they started to scrap.
It was a short fight. Fraser ended it by bringing a quick but lethal right hand over his head and down on Plett, sending the bigger man to his knees. After that the Canucks, though out-chanced, held on to win three straight games in a best of five series.
Lanny MacDonald, shadowed mercilessly by his former Maple Leaf linemate Dave 'Tiger' Williams, could not mount much of a threat. In fact, it was Williams who was the overtime hero of the crucial second game. What did the Flames do about Williams, about his hounding of their star player?
What could they do? Curt Fraser, not even the biggest of the Canucks that year, had taken care of the Flames enforcer in the opening seconds of the series. The Flames had lost an edge to the Canucks, and they knew it.
I thought of all this while watching the debacle of a hockey game that unfolded a couple of nights ago between the Canucks and the Colorado Avalanche.
It was clear from the outset that the Canucks, seething since Colorado forward Steve Moore knocked Markus Nasland out for three games with a concussion, wanted to make a physical statement on their home ice.
Unfortunately, they had no Curt Fraser this time around. Brad May gamely took on Avalanche man-mountain Peter Worrell, but it was a stalemate (not a bad achievement for May considering the size difference). The feisty Matt Cooke had a go with Moore himself, but it was Moore who frankly looked like he had the upper hand.
The Canucks, like the 1982 Flames, seemed to sense that they had lost an edge, that they could not make the statement they wanted to make, at least not with any kind of 'exclamation point' (to use Colorado coach Tony Granato's expression). The result was a quick and ugly ungluing, first of their defence, then of their senses. Todd Bertuzzi's attack on Moore had the air of a crazed motorist, frustrated that the guy who cut him off wasn't getting a ticket.
***
Steve Moore's hit on Naslund, the one that set in motion this sorry series of events, was a tough one to deal with. Technically, it may not have been a penalty. The referees policing that game didn't think so, and neither did the league when it reviewed the incident. Nonetheless, it was very close to crossing a line, perhaps not in the strict sense of the rule book, but in a way less easy to define. Naslund may have been on track for a league scoring title (the first in team history). And who knows what long-term implications it will have for Naslund's play; how much of a step will he loose if he needs to look over his shoulder, or let up a bit when chasing the puck?
Add to that the fact that Moore, a so-called marginal player, has lately developed a bit of a ‘niche’ for himself, as one of his Colorado teammates put it. Consider the following excerpt from the March 4, 2004 edition of the St. Petersburg Times, a Florida paper that reports on the Tampa Bay Lightning:
“Lightning coach John Tortorella called for league MVP candidate Martin St. Louis to receive more protection from referees ....what really got the coach steamed was when the 5-foot-8 St. Louis was cross-checked from behind into the boards by Colorado’s Steve Moore during the first period of Monday’s 3-0 Tampa Bay Victory.”
Cross checked from behind into the boards. Sounds dangerous.
This is not to suggest that the devastating injury inflicted by Bertuzzi on Moore was justified. I don’t know, at this point, how long Bertuzzi will be suspended, but I believe it should at least run into next season.
Nonetheless, there is some context to be considered in all of this. Hockey, with its combination of violence, speed and finesse, is a unique game. Skilled players are both an asset to be protected and, if they are on the other team, a weapon to be neutralized. There will always be agitators like Moore, and they will always be called to account by the enforcers on the teams they oppose. Perhaps the crucial difference between Moore and Bertuzzi is that Moore knew how far he could go without crossing the line. Tragically, the more powerful Bertuzzi wasn’t so smart.
That intangible line is ultimately all there is. Hockey players need to stay on the right side of it. No official, no amount of NHL legislation or protective gear can make that call for them.
***
Now we must put up with the requisite outpouring of media angst. Sportscasters who usually gush over hits and fights during highlight reels like ten year-olds describing their favourite scenes in Lord of the Rings are suddenly solemn and censoring. Newspaper columnists are sermonizing on how goonery will soon lead to hockey's demise, just like it did after Marty McSorley’s hit on Donald Brashear in 2000, or after Dale Hunter’s blindside on Pierre Turgeon in 1993, or after Wayne Maki’s exchange with Ted Green in 1968, or after Eddie Shore helped fracture Ace Bailey’s skull in 1933....
And worst of all, we get the typically Canadian explosion of neurotica over the fact that our game is getting bad coverage in the American media. We live in a nation that pines for American attention the way a little girl hopes to get noticed by a teen idol. But now it’s all ruined! Our heartthrob is looking at us all right, but not because we’re sexy....it’s because our nose is bleeding.
See what you’ve done, Todd Bertuzzi!? SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?
Look folks, I’ll let you in on something. If the U.S.A. rejects hockey, it will not be because they’re squeamish about violence. We’re talking about America, for crying out loud.
Sports tend to thrive professionally where they also thrive at a grassroots level. Hockey does not exist at the grassroots level in much of the U.S. for the simple reason that it’s a winter sport, and a large chuck of the American population lives in a very warm climate. It’s a bit difficult to build a backyard rink for your kid if you live in Scottsdale, or Fort Worth, or Baton Rouge.
Hockey has always been a regional game in the States, and it likely always will be.
* * *
After beating the Flames, the Canucks of 1982 plowed through the Los Angeles Kings and the Chicago Blackhawks en route to the final. Both teams had some great stars; Marcel Dionne for the Kings, Denis Savard for the Hawks. But in both cases the Canucks prevailed. They were grittier. Indeed, a defining moment in the Blackhawk series was another fight, one in which Canuck Ron Delorme pasted Hawk enforcer Grant Mulvey (why? because Mulvey had taken a run at the artful Thomas Gradin).
And them came the New York Islanders, a dynasty with a curious mix of skill and brawn. There was the heavyweight 30-plus goal man Clark Gillies and the tough but talented Brian Trottier; there was the maniacal Billy Smith, and the great Denis Potvin, always ready with an eloquent quote and a career-ending hipcheck.
But the hero (and Conn Smythe winner) that year was Mike Bossy. Bossy was dogged by Tiger Williams as relentlessly as MacDonald had been earlier in the playoffs. Years later, I saw the two of them interviewed on the same T.V. show, via satellite. Bossy still clearly hated Williams’ guts.
But it was Bossy who delivered the exclamation point in that series, in extra time during game one. With only a few seconds left in the first overtime session, Bossy intercepted a pass at the Canucks’ blue line, took a few steps, and fired a missile of a shot over the shoulder of goalie Richard Brodeur.
It signalled the end of the Canucks' playoff drive as definitively as Curt Fraser’s punch had started it.
That the statement had been made by one of the game’s most gentlemanly players was a lesson in itself.
Of course, it all depends on how you define the word 'gifted.' The Canucks opened the 1982 playoffs against the Calgary Flames. The Flames were not yet the powerhouse they would become later in the decade, but some of the main ingredients were already in place, key among them being sniper Lanny MacDonald.
The Canucks had mounted a late season winning streak, and edged out the Flames at the wire to claim home ice advantage. It was their first playoff appearance in a few years, and the Vancouver fans were far from convinced that it would lead anywhere; the building was only about three-quarters full for the opening game.
The tone of the series was set in the first five seconds. Flames enforcer Willi Plett lined up at centre ice for the opening faceoff against Canuck left winger Curt Fraser. Fraser was smaller than Plett, but he was a fearsome fighter. As soon as the puck was dropped they started to scrap.
It was a short fight. Fraser ended it by bringing a quick but lethal right hand over his head and down on Plett, sending the bigger man to his knees. After that the Canucks, though out-chanced, held on to win three straight games in a best of five series.
Lanny MacDonald, shadowed mercilessly by his former Maple Leaf linemate Dave 'Tiger' Williams, could not mount much of a threat. In fact, it was Williams who was the overtime hero of the crucial second game. What did the Flames do about Williams, about his hounding of their star player?
What could they do? Curt Fraser, not even the biggest of the Canucks that year, had taken care of the Flames enforcer in the opening seconds of the series. The Flames had lost an edge to the Canucks, and they knew it.
I thought of all this while watching the debacle of a hockey game that unfolded a couple of nights ago between the Canucks and the Colorado Avalanche.
It was clear from the outset that the Canucks, seething since Colorado forward Steve Moore knocked Markus Nasland out for three games with a concussion, wanted to make a physical statement on their home ice.
Unfortunately, they had no Curt Fraser this time around. Brad May gamely took on Avalanche man-mountain Peter Worrell, but it was a stalemate (not a bad achievement for May considering the size difference). The feisty Matt Cooke had a go with Moore himself, but it was Moore who frankly looked like he had the upper hand.
The Canucks, like the 1982 Flames, seemed to sense that they had lost an edge, that they could not make the statement they wanted to make, at least not with any kind of 'exclamation point' (to use Colorado coach Tony Granato's expression). The result was a quick and ugly ungluing, first of their defence, then of their senses. Todd Bertuzzi's attack on Moore had the air of a crazed motorist, frustrated that the guy who cut him off wasn't getting a ticket.
***
Steve Moore's hit on Naslund, the one that set in motion this sorry series of events, was a tough one to deal with. Technically, it may not have been a penalty. The referees policing that game didn't think so, and neither did the league when it reviewed the incident. Nonetheless, it was very close to crossing a line, perhaps not in the strict sense of the rule book, but in a way less easy to define. Naslund may have been on track for a league scoring title (the first in team history). And who knows what long-term implications it will have for Naslund's play; how much of a step will he loose if he needs to look over his shoulder, or let up a bit when chasing the puck?
Add to that the fact that Moore, a so-called marginal player, has lately developed a bit of a ‘niche’ for himself, as one of his Colorado teammates put it. Consider the following excerpt from the March 4, 2004 edition of the St. Petersburg Times, a Florida paper that reports on the Tampa Bay Lightning:
“Lightning coach John Tortorella called for league MVP candidate Martin St. Louis to receive more protection from referees ....what really got the coach steamed was when the 5-foot-8 St. Louis was cross-checked from behind into the boards by Colorado’s Steve Moore during the first period of Monday’s 3-0 Tampa Bay Victory.”
Cross checked from behind into the boards. Sounds dangerous.
This is not to suggest that the devastating injury inflicted by Bertuzzi on Moore was justified. I don’t know, at this point, how long Bertuzzi will be suspended, but I believe it should at least run into next season.
Nonetheless, there is some context to be considered in all of this. Hockey, with its combination of violence, speed and finesse, is a unique game. Skilled players are both an asset to be protected and, if they are on the other team, a weapon to be neutralized. There will always be agitators like Moore, and they will always be called to account by the enforcers on the teams they oppose. Perhaps the crucial difference between Moore and Bertuzzi is that Moore knew how far he could go without crossing the line. Tragically, the more powerful Bertuzzi wasn’t so smart.
That intangible line is ultimately all there is. Hockey players need to stay on the right side of it. No official, no amount of NHL legislation or protective gear can make that call for them.
***
Now we must put up with the requisite outpouring of media angst. Sportscasters who usually gush over hits and fights during highlight reels like ten year-olds describing their favourite scenes in Lord of the Rings are suddenly solemn and censoring. Newspaper columnists are sermonizing on how goonery will soon lead to hockey's demise, just like it did after Marty McSorley’s hit on Donald Brashear in 2000, or after Dale Hunter’s blindside on Pierre Turgeon in 1993, or after Wayne Maki’s exchange with Ted Green in 1968, or after Eddie Shore helped fracture Ace Bailey’s skull in 1933....
And worst of all, we get the typically Canadian explosion of neurotica over the fact that our game is getting bad coverage in the American media. We live in a nation that pines for American attention the way a little girl hopes to get noticed by a teen idol. But now it’s all ruined! Our heartthrob is looking at us all right, but not because we’re sexy....it’s because our nose is bleeding.
See what you’ve done, Todd Bertuzzi!? SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?
Look folks, I’ll let you in on something. If the U.S.A. rejects hockey, it will not be because they’re squeamish about violence. We’re talking about America, for crying out loud.
Sports tend to thrive professionally where they also thrive at a grassroots level. Hockey does not exist at the grassroots level in much of the U.S. for the simple reason that it’s a winter sport, and a large chuck of the American population lives in a very warm climate. It’s a bit difficult to build a backyard rink for your kid if you live in Scottsdale, or Fort Worth, or Baton Rouge.
Hockey has always been a regional game in the States, and it likely always will be.
* * *
After beating the Flames, the Canucks of 1982 plowed through the Los Angeles Kings and the Chicago Blackhawks en route to the final. Both teams had some great stars; Marcel Dionne for the Kings, Denis Savard for the Hawks. But in both cases the Canucks prevailed. They were grittier. Indeed, a defining moment in the Blackhawk series was another fight, one in which Canuck Ron Delorme pasted Hawk enforcer Grant Mulvey (why? because Mulvey had taken a run at the artful Thomas Gradin).
And them came the New York Islanders, a dynasty with a curious mix of skill and brawn. There was the heavyweight 30-plus goal man Clark Gillies and the tough but talented Brian Trottier; there was the maniacal Billy Smith, and the great Denis Potvin, always ready with an eloquent quote and a career-ending hipcheck.
But the hero (and Conn Smythe winner) that year was Mike Bossy. Bossy was dogged by Tiger Williams as relentlessly as MacDonald had been earlier in the playoffs. Years later, I saw the two of them interviewed on the same T.V. show, via satellite. Bossy still clearly hated Williams’ guts.
But it was Bossy who delivered the exclamation point in that series, in extra time during game one. With only a few seconds left in the first overtime session, Bossy intercepted a pass at the Canucks’ blue line, took a few steps, and fired a missile of a shot over the shoulder of goalie Richard Brodeur.
It signalled the end of the Canucks' playoff drive as definitively as Curt Fraser’s punch had started it.
That the statement had been made by one of the game’s most gentlemanly players was a lesson in itself.
Friday, February 20, 2004
Lost in the local newspapers’ laudatory coverage of the latest provincial budget was a new poll that puts the BC NDP level with the BC Liberals at 40% support among decided voters. It’s the highest the NDP has been in the polls since 1996; a stunning return for a party that was almost annihilated at the last election.
What is striking about the poll is a large disparity between male and female voters. About 50% of men favour the Liberals, with about 30% opposing. Among women, almost the exact opposite is the case. It’s women, to put it simply, who are bringing the New Democrats back from the dead.
Of course, the pundits trot out the usual explanation; women are concerned about ‘soft’ NDP-ish issues, like health care and social programs, while men are focused on Liberal guy stuff like the economy. This pat explanation always struck me as a bit lame, and I’m convinced there’s something more underlying the recent poll results.
I think the numbers can partly be accounted for by the fact that the sectors of society that are most often on the receiving end of the Campbell government's more belligerent actions tend to be female-dominated. One example is hospital workers. Laying off unionized health support workers and then hiring them back at half the rate of pay in contracted-out arrangements was something we’re supposed to see as good management. But we know by now that when it comes to watching your tax dollars, this is a government that picks its spots.
A Prince George BC Liberal party supporter gets a $400,000 debt written off by the government. The provincial Auditor General investigates incidents wherein fish farm operators who have contributed to the BC Liberal party have had government penalties and back rent written off. The boys club of a construction industry--the same guys who helped bring us the leaky condo crisis--are in line for multi-millions in Olympic construction contracts. Oh, by the way, it appears that Dick Pound, the former Vice President of the International Olympic Committee, has accused Gordon Campbell of "hijacking" the process by which the CEO of the 2010 Olympic organizing committee is selected. Campbell made sure that an associate of his of got the job. I guess he needs one of his own boys in place when it comes to handing out all that public money. Is it a coincidence that the BC Liberals draw their political fixers and bagmen from the same sleazy ranks as the scandal-plagued federal Liberal party?
Think about all of this, and use it as context for the Liberal assertion that pushing down health care workers' wages has to do with sound business practice.
“All they do is clean,” the Liberals will tell you of the hospital workers. No need to pay a unionized wage for that. But I can say from regrettably extensive first-hand observation that they do a hell of a lot more than just clean. Much of the day-to-day (or hour-to-hour) care of patients, especially those in long-term wards, is conducted by support workers. They're the ones that tend to the feeding, hygiene and even the spirits of many of the patients, and if you think this is an 'anyone can do it' kind of job, try it yourself some time. Far from being a case of sound management, it's simply part of a short-term plan to help Finance Minister Gary Collins parade a pre-election, headline-grabbing ‘balanced’ budget, a feat that could have been accomplished with relative ease had Collins not jumped the gun with an extravagant and premature tax cut on the heels of taking office.
Another example is the public vilification of the ferry workers. Again, the "all they do is cook/clean" argument comes up. That kind of slag is obviously not aimed the guys on the lower deck who are directing your car, but at the largely female staff in the passenger areas. Funny that you rarely hear that all a teamster does is lift boxes. But then the teamsters are mostly guys, and they would likely fight back hard. This, unexpectedly, is also what the ferry workers did. But not before they were subjected to a level of vitriol like something out of Salem Massachusetts, circa 1692. How much of the derision they receive was made a little sharper by the fact that their leader is a woman? The local papers, sneering as ever, made a special point of letting the public know that she was once one of the rank-and-file table-clearing wenches. Doesn't the bitch know her place? I wonder how many women sat quietly in front of the TV set during that dispute, maybe not particularly sympathetic to the union, but recognizing a contemptuous and nasty tone in how its members were being portrayed.
There is something overbearing about this government; a pushy, bullying smugness embodied by Gordon Campbell himself. The only time anyone has every really liked this guy, ironically, is when he appeared humbled and penitent in the wake of his drunk driving conviction. Now he's back to his old prick self, pushing an agenda that dishes out goodies to his cronies and platitudes about making 'tough choices' to everyone else. It's possible, even likely, that the poll numbers--and perhaps the gender disparity they reveal--will change over the next little while. For now, though, it appears that it's the men in this province who are being seduced by the soft stuff, Olympic promises and the like, while the women are the ones who recognize the hard realities of a society that leans on them for some of its dirtiest jobs, and then looks to them first when the belt-tightening begins.
What is striking about the poll is a large disparity between male and female voters. About 50% of men favour the Liberals, with about 30% opposing. Among women, almost the exact opposite is the case. It’s women, to put it simply, who are bringing the New Democrats back from the dead.
Of course, the pundits trot out the usual explanation; women are concerned about ‘soft’ NDP-ish issues, like health care and social programs, while men are focused on Liberal guy stuff like the economy. This pat explanation always struck me as a bit lame, and I’m convinced there’s something more underlying the recent poll results.
I think the numbers can partly be accounted for by the fact that the sectors of society that are most often on the receiving end of the Campbell government's more belligerent actions tend to be female-dominated. One example is hospital workers. Laying off unionized health support workers and then hiring them back at half the rate of pay in contracted-out arrangements was something we’re supposed to see as good management. But we know by now that when it comes to watching your tax dollars, this is a government that picks its spots.
A Prince George BC Liberal party supporter gets a $400,000 debt written off by the government. The provincial Auditor General investigates incidents wherein fish farm operators who have contributed to the BC Liberal party have had government penalties and back rent written off. The boys club of a construction industry--the same guys who helped bring us the leaky condo crisis--are in line for multi-millions in Olympic construction contracts. Oh, by the way, it appears that Dick Pound, the former Vice President of the International Olympic Committee, has accused Gordon Campbell of "hijacking" the process by which the CEO of the 2010 Olympic organizing committee is selected. Campbell made sure that an associate of his of got the job. I guess he needs one of his own boys in place when it comes to handing out all that public money. Is it a coincidence that the BC Liberals draw their political fixers and bagmen from the same sleazy ranks as the scandal-plagued federal Liberal party?
Think about all of this, and use it as context for the Liberal assertion that pushing down health care workers' wages has to do with sound business practice.
“All they do is clean,” the Liberals will tell you of the hospital workers. No need to pay a unionized wage for that. But I can say from regrettably extensive first-hand observation that they do a hell of a lot more than just clean. Much of the day-to-day (or hour-to-hour) care of patients, especially those in long-term wards, is conducted by support workers. They're the ones that tend to the feeding, hygiene and even the spirits of many of the patients, and if you think this is an 'anyone can do it' kind of job, try it yourself some time. Far from being a case of sound management, it's simply part of a short-term plan to help Finance Minister Gary Collins parade a pre-election, headline-grabbing ‘balanced’ budget, a feat that could have been accomplished with relative ease had Collins not jumped the gun with an extravagant and premature tax cut on the heels of taking office.
Another example is the public vilification of the ferry workers. Again, the "all they do is cook/clean" argument comes up. That kind of slag is obviously not aimed the guys on the lower deck who are directing your car, but at the largely female staff in the passenger areas. Funny that you rarely hear that all a teamster does is lift boxes. But then the teamsters are mostly guys, and they would likely fight back hard. This, unexpectedly, is also what the ferry workers did. But not before they were subjected to a level of vitriol like something out of Salem Massachusetts, circa 1692. How much of the derision they receive was made a little sharper by the fact that their leader is a woman? The local papers, sneering as ever, made a special point of letting the public know that she was once one of the rank-and-file table-clearing wenches. Doesn't the bitch know her place? I wonder how many women sat quietly in front of the TV set during that dispute, maybe not particularly sympathetic to the union, but recognizing a contemptuous and nasty tone in how its members were being portrayed.
There is something overbearing about this government; a pushy, bullying smugness embodied by Gordon Campbell himself. The only time anyone has every really liked this guy, ironically, is when he appeared humbled and penitent in the wake of his drunk driving conviction. Now he's back to his old prick self, pushing an agenda that dishes out goodies to his cronies and platitudes about making 'tough choices' to everyone else. It's possible, even likely, that the poll numbers--and perhaps the gender disparity they reveal--will change over the next little while. For now, though, it appears that it's the men in this province who are being seduced by the soft stuff, Olympic promises and the like, while the women are the ones who recognize the hard realities of a society that leans on them for some of its dirtiest jobs, and then looks to them first when the belt-tightening begins.
Thursday, February 05, 2004
There is much talk among conservative political pundits these days about what they like to call the ‘nanny state.’ For those who aren’t regular perusers of the right-wing media, the nanny state is generally used to describe a society in which the government takes an active role in social and economic affairs.
One of the more ardent nanny state naysayers is a Canadian named Mark Steyn. A prolific and ubiquitous newspaper columnist, Steyn is a self-described 'pro-Washington madman’ who has largely abandoned his native land for the 'live free or die' state of New Hampshire. His is a witty and engaging writer, and is emerging as the standard bearer of the political right; he is frequently lauded by right-wing bloggers as the best of the conservative pundits.
He recently wrote a piece on the late Swedish foreign minster Anna Lindh, who was murdered last September. Noting that Lindh was stabbed in a busy department store, and that none of the bystanders jumped to accost the killer as he ran off, Steyn concluded that their reticence was the product of living in socialist Sweden. The Swedish welfare state, went Steyn's argument, had created a 'culture of passivity.'
Ah yes, of course. Try to make a link between your average workplace gun massacre and lax firearm restrictions and a guy like Steyn will be all over you with charges of quack sociology, but he has no problem drawing a straight line between the freak murder of a politician in Stockholm and Swedish social policy. Don’t let all those robust hockey players deceive you, it appears the place is some kind of cross between Aldous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ and Fritz Lang’s ‘Metropolis;’ a society of dozy automatons too stupefied to throw themselves in front of a knife.
Steyn’s thesis seems a bit of a stretch. Look right here in Vancouver. We live in one of the more liberal cities in a country he often derides as a 'decayed dominion' beset by 'Euro-statism,' yet we've seen some notable acts of bravery from what should, by his reasoning, be an utterly passive citizenry. Think of Anthony McNaughton a few years ago, or the recent heroics of Rachel Davis, both losing their lives while intervening in violent attacks. Or Langley schoolteacher Mohamed Chelali, the guy who went to Paris on holiday and ended up wrestling with the would-be assassin of Jacques Chirac after he fired a shot at the French leader during the last Bastille Day parade. (Of course, saving Chirac’s ass won’t exactly win you kudos from the North American political right.)
Nonetheless, pundits like Steyn make a good living on routine denouncements of the supposed corroding effects of the the state upon its citizens in places like Sweden and Canada. Nothing like a good nanny state diatribe when you’re not raging against the French, decrying the perceived bias of the New York Times and the BBC, or sneering at the remonstrations of Sean Penn.
It was a bit surprising therefore, to see Andrew Sullivan, a much read blogger and columnist who is generally sympathetic to many conservative ideas, turn his sights on an unlikely target---the American government. In a 'Time' magazine article entitled ‘Nanny in Chief,’ Sullivan pilloried the man right-wingers like Steyn have hailed as their savior from the smothering stench of the nanny’s diapers; George W. Bush himself.
“When your individual choices conflict with what the Bush people think is good for you,” wrote Sullivan, “they have been only too happy to intervene. The government, Bush clearly believes, has a right to be involved in many personal decisions you make — punishing some, encouraging others, nudging and prodding the public to live the good life as the President understands it.”
Sullivan concludes that Bush is “fusing Big Government liberalism with religious-right moralism. It's the nanny state with more cash. Your cash, that is. And their morals.”
Good grief. Sweden, Canada, America...will the real nanny state please stand up? Sullivan apparently received a bunch of testy e-mails from the neo-con crowd. He’s always been a bit of renegade amongst conservatives, espousing things like gay marriage on the basis of equality and freedom of choice. Perhaps it’s because he’s not one of the true blue conservative club that he can step outside of the politics-as-team-sports mentality. The fact is, he has a point, and whether one agrees with him or not he is at least consistent enough to apply his anti-big government philosophy across the board.
Not so with a large chunk of the right-wing media. Clustered around their man Bush like a Praetorian guard around a Roman emperor, they are relatively relaxed as they watch a president who allows deficits to balloon, tariffs walls to be raised, privacy-invading legislation to be enacted, and programs to be put in place that allow the U.S. government to use tax dollars to leverage the kind of personal behavior deemed appropriate by the ruling party.
Always self-described champions of individual liberty, the position of many on the right seems as follows: If an expansion of state influence originates with your political enemies, it's cause for outrage and contempt. If it starts with your political friends, you let it slide.
Talk about a culture of passivity.
One of the more ardent nanny state naysayers is a Canadian named Mark Steyn. A prolific and ubiquitous newspaper columnist, Steyn is a self-described 'pro-Washington madman’ who has largely abandoned his native land for the 'live free or die' state of New Hampshire. His is a witty and engaging writer, and is emerging as the standard bearer of the political right; he is frequently lauded by right-wing bloggers as the best of the conservative pundits.
He recently wrote a piece on the late Swedish foreign minster Anna Lindh, who was murdered last September. Noting that Lindh was stabbed in a busy department store, and that none of the bystanders jumped to accost the killer as he ran off, Steyn concluded that their reticence was the product of living in socialist Sweden. The Swedish welfare state, went Steyn's argument, had created a 'culture of passivity.'
Ah yes, of course. Try to make a link between your average workplace gun massacre and lax firearm restrictions and a guy like Steyn will be all over you with charges of quack sociology, but he has no problem drawing a straight line between the freak murder of a politician in Stockholm and Swedish social policy. Don’t let all those robust hockey players deceive you, it appears the place is some kind of cross between Aldous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ and Fritz Lang’s ‘Metropolis;’ a society of dozy automatons too stupefied to throw themselves in front of a knife.
Steyn’s thesis seems a bit of a stretch. Look right here in Vancouver. We live in one of the more liberal cities in a country he often derides as a 'decayed dominion' beset by 'Euro-statism,' yet we've seen some notable acts of bravery from what should, by his reasoning, be an utterly passive citizenry. Think of Anthony McNaughton a few years ago, or the recent heroics of Rachel Davis, both losing their lives while intervening in violent attacks. Or Langley schoolteacher Mohamed Chelali, the guy who went to Paris on holiday and ended up wrestling with the would-be assassin of Jacques Chirac after he fired a shot at the French leader during the last Bastille Day parade. (Of course, saving Chirac’s ass won’t exactly win you kudos from the North American political right.)
Nonetheless, pundits like Steyn make a good living on routine denouncements of the supposed corroding effects of the the state upon its citizens in places like Sweden and Canada. Nothing like a good nanny state diatribe when you’re not raging against the French, decrying the perceived bias of the New York Times and the BBC, or sneering at the remonstrations of Sean Penn.
It was a bit surprising therefore, to see Andrew Sullivan, a much read blogger and columnist who is generally sympathetic to many conservative ideas, turn his sights on an unlikely target---the American government. In a 'Time' magazine article entitled ‘Nanny in Chief,’ Sullivan pilloried the man right-wingers like Steyn have hailed as their savior from the smothering stench of the nanny’s diapers; George W. Bush himself.
“When your individual choices conflict with what the Bush people think is good for you,” wrote Sullivan, “they have been only too happy to intervene. The government, Bush clearly believes, has a right to be involved in many personal decisions you make — punishing some, encouraging others, nudging and prodding the public to live the good life as the President understands it.”
Sullivan concludes that Bush is “fusing Big Government liberalism with religious-right moralism. It's the nanny state with more cash. Your cash, that is. And their morals.”
Good grief. Sweden, Canada, America...will the real nanny state please stand up? Sullivan apparently received a bunch of testy e-mails from the neo-con crowd. He’s always been a bit of renegade amongst conservatives, espousing things like gay marriage on the basis of equality and freedom of choice. Perhaps it’s because he’s not one of the true blue conservative club that he can step outside of the politics-as-team-sports mentality. The fact is, he has a point, and whether one agrees with him or not he is at least consistent enough to apply his anti-big government philosophy across the board.
Not so with a large chunk of the right-wing media. Clustered around their man Bush like a Praetorian guard around a Roman emperor, they are relatively relaxed as they watch a president who allows deficits to balloon, tariffs walls to be raised, privacy-invading legislation to be enacted, and programs to be put in place that allow the U.S. government to use tax dollars to leverage the kind of personal behavior deemed appropriate by the ruling party.
Always self-described champions of individual liberty, the position of many on the right seems as follows: If an expansion of state influence originates with your political enemies, it's cause for outrage and contempt. If it starts with your political friends, you let it slide.
Talk about a culture of passivity.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
“The Christmas movies are all gone,” I overheard one clerk at the video store say to another.
I figured I’d ask anyway. “Do you have ‘The Lion in Winter?’”
They did. I suppose they don’t consider it to be a Christmas movie; like my definition of ‘Blues,’ my definition of what constitutes a Yuletide film differs from everyone else’s. And yet ‘The Lion in Winter’ is one of the great Christmas films.
The movie centers on England’s King Henry II, and his efforts to establish the terms of his succession. A powerful man in life, he sought to control events after his death as well.
Described by Winston Churchill as “the very greatest King that England ever knew,” Henry II was a 12th Century dynamo who built the prototype of the modern state when he wasn’t warring, negotiating or marrying his way to ever-greater power. He consolidated his grip on England, then established dominion over much of France; as a feudal warlord in control of the richest French provinces, he was more powerful in that country than the reigning French sovereign.
His wife, Eleanor, from the French province of Aquitaine, was the annulled queen of Louis the VII of France. Eleven years older than Henry, tough, beautiful and brilliant, she still ranks as one of the most powerful women in history. Estranged from Henry later in their marriage, she plotted with his eldest son, Richard, to seize the throne. Henry threw her in jail and kept her there for sixteen years.
‘The Lion in Winter’ takes place on Christmas Eve, 1183. Henry has given Eleanor a reprieve from captivity, and brought her to the French fortress of Chenon, where he has also summoned Richard and his two other male heirs, Geoffrey and John. They are all joined by Philip II, who has recently inherited the French crown. Philip’s younger sister Alais is also present; she is betrothed to Richard, but Henry has grabbed her as his mistress. The aging patriarch wishes to establish some familial order and take a pre-emptive shot at establishing his legacy.
They are a dysfunctional family for the ages. The film, scripted by playwright James Goldman and released in 1968, is full of wit and invective. Indeed, if there’s a flaw it’s that near the end of the 160 minute flick the viewer is almost as worn out by all the verbal jousting as the characters themselves.
The film’s two stars, Peter O’Toole and Katherine Hepburn, eat up the scenery with a couple of the most flamboyant performances in film. They are supported by, among others, future James Bond Timothy Dalton and a young, Welsh-accented Anthony Hopkins, who is especially good in his screen debut.
The movie was actually O’Toole’s project. He was, in the mid-Sixties, a newly-coronated superstar, his most notable appearance being the title role of David Lean’s 1963 epic ‘Lawrence of Arabia.’ He knew playing Henry II would be a great vehicle, and knew equally that the role of Eleanor would be a plum part for any actress.
He snagged Hepburn for the female lead, and recruited Englishman Anthony Harvey to direct. The latter was a curious choice. Harvey had made only one film; an shortish art house piece called ‘The Dutchman.’ Most of Harvey’s experience in film was as an editor, cutting his teeth under the exacting standards of Stanley Kubrick in ‘Dr. Strangelove’ and ‘Lolita.’
Perhaps O’Toole and Hepburn figured they were getting a pliant sophomore who would let them run the show. Or maybe O’Toole saw a young director whose taste for clever dialogue and some swagger in the acting was akin to his own.
Once in charge, though, Harvey added some key elements to the picture, the most striking of which is the beautiful yet primitive ambience he creates. Shot by Douglas Slocombe, it is a lovely looking film, but its visual flourishes do not smother an underlying austerity that pervades the work and counterbalances the raging performances.
Many of the film’s subjects have become the stuff of legend. In addition to Henry and Eleanor, their sons Richard (the Lionheart) and John (the nefarious villain of the Robin Hood tales) are among the most storied characters English history has ever produced.
But Harvey manages to place them all in the context, even at the mercy, of their time. ‘The Lion in Winter’ does not, like many historical films, leave you with the idea that the characters have running water, central heating and microwave ovens.
Filmed in various locations in France, Wales and Ireland, the interiors are cold and stark. Fireplaces blaze constantly, candles are always flickering. Dogs roam cluttered courtyards and stone corridors, nobles eat on benches, courtiers and soldiers sleep on straw.
One of the most arresting scenes takes place early in the film. There is a large bowl of water. A half-inch thick layer of ice has crusted over the surface. A hand plunges in, grabs the ice in one piece, and tosses it aside.
The hand is Henry’s. He has risen in the morning, and he proceeds to wash his face. The bowl is in his room; it’s his washbasin. He may be ‘the greatest power in a thousand years,’ but he wakes to a frigid house, washes in stale ice water, and breakfasts on dry porridge and bread.
Eight-hundred years on, the descendants of the lowest of his subjects enjoy a lifestyle he couldn’t have conceived of.
It’s a conclusion the film leaves you to draw yourself, but it’s a conclusion nonetheless. And one as hopeful as you’ll find in any Christmas movie.
I figured I’d ask anyway. “Do you have ‘The Lion in Winter?’”
They did. I suppose they don’t consider it to be a Christmas movie; like my definition of ‘Blues,’ my definition of what constitutes a Yuletide film differs from everyone else’s. And yet ‘The Lion in Winter’ is one of the great Christmas films.
The movie centers on England’s King Henry II, and his efforts to establish the terms of his succession. A powerful man in life, he sought to control events after his death as well.
Described by Winston Churchill as “the very greatest King that England ever knew,” Henry II was a 12th Century dynamo who built the prototype of the modern state when he wasn’t warring, negotiating or marrying his way to ever-greater power. He consolidated his grip on England, then established dominion over much of France; as a feudal warlord in control of the richest French provinces, he was more powerful in that country than the reigning French sovereign.
His wife, Eleanor, from the French province of Aquitaine, was the annulled queen of Louis the VII of France. Eleven years older than Henry, tough, beautiful and brilliant, she still ranks as one of the most powerful women in history. Estranged from Henry later in their marriage, she plotted with his eldest son, Richard, to seize the throne. Henry threw her in jail and kept her there for sixteen years.
‘The Lion in Winter’ takes place on Christmas Eve, 1183. Henry has given Eleanor a reprieve from captivity, and brought her to the French fortress of Chenon, where he has also summoned Richard and his two other male heirs, Geoffrey and John. They are all joined by Philip II, who has recently inherited the French crown. Philip’s younger sister Alais is also present; she is betrothed to Richard, but Henry has grabbed her as his mistress. The aging patriarch wishes to establish some familial order and take a pre-emptive shot at establishing his legacy.
They are a dysfunctional family for the ages. The film, scripted by playwright James Goldman and released in 1968, is full of wit and invective. Indeed, if there’s a flaw it’s that near the end of the 160 minute flick the viewer is almost as worn out by all the verbal jousting as the characters themselves.
The film’s two stars, Peter O’Toole and Katherine Hepburn, eat up the scenery with a couple of the most flamboyant performances in film. They are supported by, among others, future James Bond Timothy Dalton and a young, Welsh-accented Anthony Hopkins, who is especially good in his screen debut.
The movie was actually O’Toole’s project. He was, in the mid-Sixties, a newly-coronated superstar, his most notable appearance being the title role of David Lean’s 1963 epic ‘Lawrence of Arabia.’ He knew playing Henry II would be a great vehicle, and knew equally that the role of Eleanor would be a plum part for any actress.
He snagged Hepburn for the female lead, and recruited Englishman Anthony Harvey to direct. The latter was a curious choice. Harvey had made only one film; an shortish art house piece called ‘The Dutchman.’ Most of Harvey’s experience in film was as an editor, cutting his teeth under the exacting standards of Stanley Kubrick in ‘Dr. Strangelove’ and ‘Lolita.’
Perhaps O’Toole and Hepburn figured they were getting a pliant sophomore who would let them run the show. Or maybe O’Toole saw a young director whose taste for clever dialogue and some swagger in the acting was akin to his own.
Once in charge, though, Harvey added some key elements to the picture, the most striking of which is the beautiful yet primitive ambience he creates. Shot by Douglas Slocombe, it is a lovely looking film, but its visual flourishes do not smother an underlying austerity that pervades the work and counterbalances the raging performances.
Many of the film’s subjects have become the stuff of legend. In addition to Henry and Eleanor, their sons Richard (the Lionheart) and John (the nefarious villain of the Robin Hood tales) are among the most storied characters English history has ever produced.
But Harvey manages to place them all in the context, even at the mercy, of their time. ‘The Lion in Winter’ does not, like many historical films, leave you with the idea that the characters have running water, central heating and microwave ovens.
Filmed in various locations in France, Wales and Ireland, the interiors are cold and stark. Fireplaces blaze constantly, candles are always flickering. Dogs roam cluttered courtyards and stone corridors, nobles eat on benches, courtiers and soldiers sleep on straw.
One of the most arresting scenes takes place early in the film. There is a large bowl of water. A half-inch thick layer of ice has crusted over the surface. A hand plunges in, grabs the ice in one piece, and tosses it aside.
The hand is Henry’s. He has risen in the morning, and he proceeds to wash his face. The bowl is in his room; it’s his washbasin. He may be ‘the greatest power in a thousand years,’ but he wakes to a frigid house, washes in stale ice water, and breakfasts on dry porridge and bread.
Eight-hundred years on, the descendants of the lowest of his subjects enjoy a lifestyle he couldn’t have conceived of.
It’s a conclusion the film leaves you to draw yourself, but it’s a conclusion nonetheless. And one as hopeful as you’ll find in any Christmas movie.
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