Happy Easter from the NAD.

The Physics of Canadian Politics

First, a disclaimer: I Joseph Lane, know jack about physics. I avoided science's most mind-blowing discipline throughout the whole of my formal education. Physics has grown on me over the years, but to be honest, I don't understand any of it. There, just so we are clear, just so as to ward off any meandering bands of science purists. I know I am doing it wrong. I am little more than a fiddler of words. Take it easy on a fella, please.

So I was thinking, how am I going to describe what the hell is happening politically, in Canada, to a non-Canadian? How, for example, does a fella explain Contempt of Parliament, or 4 elections in 7 years? I a not convinced that the process is broken. Canada's system of government has worked fairly well for over 140 years. So what is it? Is it our fault? Have we become lazy, so underwhelmed  by it all ,that we have become almost unwilling to perform our democratic duty? Surely not! I know that I am still very much engaged in the political process. Almost obsessively so. It's not the game, or the spectators, it's the players. Canada has been let down by its political leaders, no matter their ilk.

The meandering science types are confused. The author has made a sports analogy, but where are the physics? Hold on to your electron microscopes. I am getting to it. I told you that I was a noob. I need to build up to it.

Here goes: The problem with Canadian politics is that we find ourselves in a leadership void. Our politicians are so bereft of personality and so lacking in inspired ideas, that Canada has found itself in an infinite loop (a computer term, I know, settle down) of minority governments. Despite repeated attempts to spin out of this loop, a majority government seems just as unlikely now, as it did when Stephen Harper first lost to Paul Martin  in 2004. Try as we might, it seems that Ctrl/Alt/Del-ing, or even repeated rebooting, is not gonna do a blessed thing. Nope, it's time to toss out the hole bloody machine. After this election and the debacle that will be another minority government, it will be high time, for the Canadian electorate to demand a political upgrade. The system has tried to reboot 4 times, it's broken. There needs to be a brand new option. A Canada 2.0. 

The meandering hoard of science types, now in complete facepalm, must be screaming, 'the physics, the physics, where the hell are the physics?' I am trying, be patient, Jesus! You try equating the mendacity that is Canadian politics to physics. You can't, can you? Go shine your beakers. I am doing the best I can.

The science is quite simple, really. There is a correlation between the void of leadership/sexy political ideas and the Canadian electorate's involvement in the electoral process. Nothing can exist in a black hole. The Canadian political system reached its supernova stage when Paul Martin decided that it was in his own best interest to push out Chretien and take his 'rightful' place as Canada's next Prime Minister. That was the tipping point. That's when democracy was usurped for egotistical gain and the snowball started to roll, encompassing everything in its path, until SPLAT! Here we are.   

But surely it's not all Paul Martin's fault. Of course not, he is but a tiny blip in a large, complicated chain reaction. One that might have started way back with Trudeau and Levesque (have there been any compelling leaders since those two?) The Bush years played their part. Neo-Conservativism is not an idea that is Canadian at its roots (Preston Manning, Stephen Harper, Sun News). Scandals caused by a complacent Chretien government, that had been in office far too long, also played its part. The formula is complicated, the ingredients many, but there is no denying that the finished product is barely palatable. YUCK!

The science-types scoff, 'who is he now, a chemist, or Canada's Julia Childs?' Screw you science-types! Go on over there to Ottawa and fix it, armed only with your fancy formulas and your inalienable logic. I double dog dare you. Logic, HA! It's all madness; politics is chaos theory. Similar to its cousin economics. There is a special place in hell for economists, they are little more than gamblers and storytellers, with fancy degrees. Anyone can fudge numbers.

So where are we science-types? What is the formula that explains the mess that is Canadian politics? Is it as simple as F=G([m1*m2])/D^2) (gravity). What goes up, must come down. Is Canadian politics just about to hit rock bottom? If so, then what? Would Newton's 3rd law then apply? It states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If Canadian politics is about to hit absolute bottom, would that not mean then, that its also about to reach its absolute apex? Is there hope? Could change be coming? Where have I heard that before? Hmmm...I dunno. I am as confused as the rest of you. Vote anyway. Try your best to be part of the process. Get involved. Let's talk this out. Let's be part of whatever comes next.

Death and Social Media

I learned of Elizabeth Taylor's death on Twitter, Michael Jackson's and Patrick Swayze's deaths too. Pixelized news spreads quickly. With the push of a button the world is informed, or misinformed. How many times has Twitter tried to kill off Gordon Lightfoot, Jackie Chan and Neil Diamond already?

But celebrity deaths, like their lives are not a good measure of reality. How are we, the regular folks, supposed to deal with the death of a friend or loved one and social media?

I will give you three examples to think about. The first is a joke I made at Elizabeth Taylor's expense. Upon learning of her death, a few weeks ago, I Tweeted and Facebooked this joke; Elizabeth Taylor dies, announces her engagement to Ernest Hemingway. Funny, I thought, but it created a bit of a buzz on Facebook. One of my good friends, a huge Liz Taylor fan took a bit of an offense to my joke. Seems it was too soon. I was being disrespectful to the dead. Fair enough, I conceded. My joke, I felt, had little to do with Elizabeth Taylor the person and more to do with Elizabeth Taylor the tabloid celebrity. If I offended anyone, well that was not my intention. I was looking for giggles. You can't win them all. The lesson, I guess, is that there is a joke free buffer around a celebrity's death... the amount of time this buffer lasts, remains a mystery. Maybe Gilbert Gottfried knows...???

My second example was my first encounter with death and social media. A couple of years ago, a friend of mine, whose name I won't mention, committed suicide. I found out of his death via Facebook. The details of his death, which like his name, I will not mention, were not shared on Facebook, thankfully. The news of his death, however, spread quickly. His Facebook Wall became a cyber-memorial. Friends from all over left messages of love and sympathy. His account still exists, every now and then someone writes on his Wall still. Is this healthy? This unfortunate fella was not a dear friend of mine, but he was a friend, I was saddened, but not devastated by the news of his death. But what of his closer friends and relatives?  Is it healthy to have a constant reminder of their dead loved one only a few clicks away?

My third example was the inspiration for this post. I lost my dear friend Andre on Saturday night. He finally lost the battle with his wonky heart. Andre was the bravest guy I have ever met. His love for life was something we should all aspire to. I'll miss him. That said, this is not an obituary piece. I'd hate to be burdened with that job... I haven't the words. Anyway, back on topic. I found out about Andre's death on Sunday morning. I had slept in, it was probably 10am before I was up and about and checking emails. It being so late in the morning, news of Andre's death had already gone viral. There was nothing I could do to stop the news, I couldn't tell the universe to quiet down in order that Andre's loved one's had the time to process this horrible news. So instead, I added my own laments. As someone whom sorts themselves out via the written word, it helped. As to whether I did a disservice to Andre's legacy, by joining the ever-growing viral bemoan, I don't know? I believe in my heart that Andre would want his friends and family to sort their grief out however they can. He was a avid social media user, he'd have joined the mob (some of us held out hope that he would. It was that close to April 1st). 

So, should there be rules for social media and death? Would the rules be  different according to celebrity, cause of death, or how close a person was to the person who had passed away? Is it always bad form to crack jokes about the newly deceased? And what of the profiles of these dead people? Are they interactive memorials, pixelated grave sites, a place web surfers can go to remember times past? Or should the profiles of dead people be deleted? Is the chance of bumping into the profile of a dead friend, loved one, or family member potentially too distressing? Does it depend on the feelings of the living? Surly the dead have no worries about whether their Twitter or Facebook profiles live on past their death. Heck, think of it as a digital legacy, a pixelated image of a life that was. 

Maybe this post is nothing more than a blogger dealing with their own misgivings about death. I dunno? What I do know is that social media has a way of making you confront death instantaneously and rehash death whenever one might stumble upon the thumbnail, or profile of a dead person. Is this healthy? Was it better the old way, where if you weren't in close contact with a deceased person, or their loved ones, it could take a long time before learning of their death? Again, I dunno? I will probably never know. We each grieve and deal with the metaphysical reality of death differently. 

God speed Andre and I am sorry for the gratuitous joke Mrs Taylor. How about the two of you raise the spirits of my unnamed buddy in the afterlife?  I hope the three of you enjoy the view. Be excellent to each other. We miss you. 

Where my mind is at

I haven't been blogging. I have barely written much of anything lately. The odd poem here and there. A way to rid myself of some mental diarrhea. Writer's block would be a misnomer. I haven't been staring at the blinking cursor at a loss. Nope, I am not blocked, I simply haven't been trying.

Yes, circumstance has played its part. I haven't been blessed with many free hours. I have been busy not only trying to be the best partner and parent a neurotic writer-type can be, but I also I have been trying to find work. Which, frankly, sucks the soul right out of me. It's not that I don't want to work. No that's not it at all. I am looking forward to 8-10 hours out of the house, 5 or so times a week. Oh and a paycheck, wow, what a novel idea. I am not adverse to work, I am adverse to feeling like I am under a microscope. HR people, gawd love them, give me the creeps. But where was I? Oh yes, circumstance, environment and distraction, have all played a huge role in my lack of writing.

But there is more. Of course there is more. It is never as simple as 2 or 3 things weighing me down. I am also at a lose when it comes to subject. There is the novel, there is always the novel, and its subject remains the same... but I am not in the right head space to be novel-ing, not right now. What I mean is, I am not sure which subject, which global or interpersonal event will spur me on. There is no lack of chaos or misery right now. There is no shortage of heroes, villains, or victims either. Yet none of it has coaxed my fingers to make sweet love to a keyboard. Very unsexy.

I could, if I was more dedicated, write a passionate pro-union piece. How hard would it be to string together a 1000 words or so of disgust in regards to the Koch Brother's faux-grassroots Tea Party movement and its nefarious plot to destroy the American middle class? But it is always better to leave that sort thing to the pros. Jon Stewart, Bill Maher and Michael Moore have a larger target audience. They're much better suited for that fight. The sponsors have spoken. Moving on.

What else is there...? Oh yes, the specter of a Canadian election. Know what? I'll get to that when the writ is dropped. I'd hate to look like the Conservative Party of Canada, you know, very eager to campaign, and more than willing to blame the other guys for forcing an election. My voice will be heard. But I am classy enough to wait until I know a date. Hear hear.

Then there is hockey. As some of you might know, I am a hockey nut. A bigger Montreal Canadiens fan you will not find. If you follow hockey, or sports at all, you will also be aware that there was a horrific check thrown in Tuesday night's Bruins/Canadiens game that left the Canadiens' Max Pacioretty crumbled, lifeless on the ice. It was a scary moment. One that left Canadiens' fans like myself, sick and angry. We felt that Bruin's captain Zdeno Chara (all 6'7'' 250 pounds of him) deliberately smashed Pacioretty's head into the glass stanchion. Try as I might to view this event objectively, unblinded by rage and loyalty, I can't. I am, so I've been told, an irrational fan, unable to see past the outcome (a fractured vertebrae and a severe concussion) . All of which is probably true. Carrying on.

What's next? NATURAL DISASTERS! Ye gads, and I mean no offense to those in the effected regions, but who the hell can keep up with them? Just when the world had purged themselves of worry and thoughts of New Zealand and its traumatic earthquake, Japan gets hit. Do I feel horrible? Of course. Do I feel incapable of helping? Yep that too. The worse that things get, the less I pay attention. If I were to internalize all the shit, all the death, the carnage, the wasted lives, the evil and the greed that fills the 24 hour news cycle, my insides would rot. It can't be all that bad, I won't allow it to be all that bad. I have kids to raise. My tiny world sphere matters more, to me, than does the misery that is the wider world. Sorry,  channel switched.

The same goes with the Middle East. I hope nothing more than for peace and prosperity, for each and every citizen standing up for freedom (whatever the hell freedom is). I'd love for the revolutions that are popping up all over, to  lead to governments that put people ahead of ideology, religion or greed. But I am sorry the cynic in me knows better. I hate to be a buzz kill, but I just don't see how students (mostly) armed with iPhones and Twitter apps are going to reverse thousands of years of history. I have been burnt by false optimism before. I changed my avatar green for Iran and all it did was make me look sickly. Reality bites. Unfollow me if you must. 

So there. This is where my mind is at. I am here, I am there, I am everywhere. I could promise to blog more, but I hate making empty promises. So until things are settled on the job front and until I can settle into a routine, posts will remain sporadic. As healthy as it is for me to empty my mind of bottled up thoughts, I am not sure when I will next be afforded the opportunity. Thanks for reading, if you've made it this far. Much love. And until next time, I am out!

Watching Snow Slide From Rooftops

Dreaming of spring.
Lying to myself.
I am not really going to exercise.
I am not really going to look like
a Greek God,
come summer.
Not unless they named Diogenes a god.
The god of wine, sloth and cynicism.
My kind of guy.
I have been told that postmodernism is lame.
And to hell with the surreal.
So I am left with being a cynic.
Like they want me to be unhappy.
Like I shouldn't look beyond the state of things.
Like everything is shit,
like it ain't ever gonna get better...
or worse.
I say bollocks.
Hug your kids,
kiss your partner,
thumb your nose at it all.
But remember to keep a shovel close.
Thud!

Happy Martin Luther King Day

We don't celebrate Martin Luther King Day in Canada, which is a shame. Sure Martin Luther King Jr. is an American hero, and a powerful symbol in the American civil rights movement, but damn it, his actions and his words resonate beyond America's borders, even way up here in the frosty North.

My 11-year-old daughter, who was supposed to be cleaning her room, came to me, calender in hand, and said she didn't have to clean her room today because it was a holiday. First I said, um no it is isn't, and then I asked her if she knew who Martin Luther King was. She did not, which is also a shame, and yes she was sent back to clean her room.

We could use a holiday in the middle of January, and Canada, despite it's long history, hasn't got its own powerfully symbolic civil rights figure (Louis Riel?). Why not piggyback on a worthy American symbol? If only to teach my daughter Doctor King's story alone. Her lack of knowledge of  Doctor King is on me, Emily is home schooled, I have no one to blame for that, now, but myself. So, in honour of Martn Luther King Jr, and in the hopes of teaching Emily a little about the Civil Rights Movement (blaxploitation movie night is next) here is video of Doctor King's 'I had a dream' speech, followed by its full text.

 

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation. Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

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It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

This One Goes Out To The CRTC.

Dire Straits - Money For Nothing [1984 @ Yahoo! Video