Exit the Postman

In the latest move in Canada Post’s drive to make itself totally irrelevant, the corporation has decided to end door-to-door delivery in cities. It is rapidly heading toward an existence akin to the rump of BC Rail, something of a holding company for what’s left of the assets that rightly belong to the citizens in general and which are very much in danger of being sold on the cheap to the friends of the government who bought off the politicians and now expect a rich return on their investment. This move is one of the purest expressions we’ve yet seen that the government exists not to serve the well-being of the electorate, but rather as a mechanism to move wealth from the lower and middle reaches of society to the investor class at the top of the increasingly steep economic pyramid. It is part of the bold and flagrant program of suppression of unions by the Harper government and a way of ensuring that the labour pool keeps expanding as the opportunities for work shrink, thereby ensuring a flow of cheap labour on the “open” market. And, with the disappearance of the letter carrier goes a wealth of cinematic and musical inspiration, thinking of items like “Please, Mr. Postman”, “Il Postino” and “The Postman Knocks Twice”.  Now I wonder if the price of a letter will decline…

 

And I can’t miss the opportunity to mark another sad exit, though it would be hard to argue that the man got cheated:

 

 

And a couple of longer items:

The Crumbling Tower of PISA

Self Correcting?

Self Correcting?

 

The educational world is all a-flutter about the poor performance of students on a recent battery of Math tests that were administered to fifteen-year-olds in various locations around the world. In my daily ingestion of “content”, I heard pretty much the same refrain from officials here in Canada, in the United States, and there was a feature report on the matter on the Journal Télévisé from France 2 in their daily 19-20 slot. There was a great deal of hand-wringing from official circles whose answer to poor test scores seems to be more testing, test prep, accountability, and choice, all mantras of a segment of the educational institutions dominated by market-driven precepts and the desire to standardize everything. The best of the reports of yesterday’s lot was some documentation in the France 2 segment wherein they compared student life in France to that of young people in South Korea, whose students scored excellent marks on the PISA. The first distinction mentioned was that Korean students spend, typically, sixty hours a week in school, whereas their French counterparts spend half that total. The Korean girl followed by the reporters started her day at six in the morning, went to school at eight and stayed there until ten in the evening, after which she attended private tutoring until midnight. She seemed quite comfortable with the situation, as did her parents, but I know I wouldn’t have done this to my own children, nor to students in general, given a sense that much learning takes place outside of school, particularly in terms of interpersonal relationships, life experience, and general cultural development. If the point is to become a drone in the commercial and industrial apparatus, the Korean/Singaporean/Japanese/Hong Kong model will serve well, I suppose, but in terms of building a sustainable and humane society, it’s likely that the hive mentality will leave serious shortfalls. PISA, the brainchild of the OECD, is aimed squarely at reinforcing the current economic paradigm, and it bending the drive of the education system worldwide to that effect, this being the paradigm in which growth in a finite living space has no limits and where we can create wealth out of thin air and distribute said wealth unequally to the point of ridicule. It favours a lock-stepped standardized, modular and cellular education that gives pride of place to narrowly focused knowledge of the quantifiable, and where progress is measured only on the basis of single-event high stakes testing, much of it framed as multiple-choice questions in the interest of statistical purity.

There has been substantial and well-documented push back against the tide of stats-driven education and the drive to turn education into a profit source, but it doesn’t often spill into the arena of public discussion, not surprising given the vested interest of the organs of the press in support of their own corporate model. Diane Ravich recently published an article on the Huffington post which I saw republished on Common Dreams, entitled “What You Need To Know About International Test Scores”, in which she cites an article from Phi Beta Kappan by Keith Baker (2007), saying the following:

 

Baker wrote that a certain level of educational achievement may be “a platform for launching national success, but once that platform is reached, other factors become more important than further gains in test scores. Indeed, once the platform is reached, it may be bad policy to pursue further gains in test scores because focusing on the scores diverts attention, effort, and resources away from other factors that are more important determinants of national success.” What has mattered most for the economic, cultural, and technological success of the U.S., he says, is a certain “spirit,” which he defines as “ambition, inquisitiveness, independence, and perhaps most important, the absence of a fixation on testing and test scores.”

Baker’s conclusion was that “standings in the league tables of international tests are worthless.”

Ms. Ravich draws some lessons from the test scores, mostly relating to the silliness of accepting that such a measurement would have any meaning other than all the programs aimed at improving test scores have been a dismal failure. My personal favourite, of course, is where she points out that having so many people living in conditions of deprivation does nothing to help test scores, or general education, to which I would add that the impetus to get educated seems increasingly tattered where an education seems more like a path to significant debt loads than to gainful and meaningful employment. Finally, it should come as no surprise that Democrats, both New and U.S., as well as Socialists-In-Name-Only all over the world have done little to nothing to lay the groundwork for a society where an education would be simply part of what the society does and where both work and rewards would be shared on a somewhat more equitable basis.

Please also take a minute to check out Henry Giroux’s writings in this vein.

 

 

Now What? The Real Thing, I Guess

Comment on FB from Laila Yuile:

The BC Liberals. Missing legislative sessions, missing information and now missing yet another important deadline. 

Also, Missing in Action…. period.

 

Well, no surprise there. It puts me in mind of something Paul Hawken said:

 

We know—you know in this room—how to transform this world. We know what to do. We know how to provide meaningful, dignified living wage jobs for all who seek them, how to feed, clothe, and house every person on Earth. What we don’t know, admittedly, is how to remove those in power whose ignorance of biology is matched only by their indifference.

 

This came to me via Information Clearing House:

 

 

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died

Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that youve been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows youve been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it’s now or never
Everybody knows that it’s me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when youve done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old black Joe’s still pickin cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the plague is coming
Everybody knows that it’s moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But theres gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows

And everybody knows that you’re in trouble
Everybody knows what youve been through
From the bloody cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it’s coming apart
Take one last look at this sacred heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows

 

Yes, we may know and there is ample evidence all around us, but, to finish off with one last little quip:

Our ignorance is not so vast as our failure to use what we know.
—M. King Hubbert
In the meantime, I will now get out and enjoy some of this:
The View

The View

Now What?

 

I must have hit the wrong button.  Anyway, here is Garrison Fewell. Good listening, if this is a kind of music that you enjoy.

What the hell, here’s some more:

 

 

 

Now I’ll go find something to whine and complain about. CFN!

 

OK, here’s a slight reprise.

 

How Much Is A Little?

How Much Is A Little?

 

Given that the bells have been ringing for six weeks already, and that there are another three weeks before the hoopla even starts to fade, one has to wonder where the overdose level kicks in. I’m far past that stage, yet I know people who aren’t even approaching saturation. It comes down to the same conundrum as the generous person and the greedy person, where, in pure self-defence, the generous person must cease to be generous. This applies to tolerant people and the intolerant or to pretty much anyone who is willing to live and let live, as soon as that person is confronted by someone with a little too much courage of his, and everyone else’s convictions. So where can I sign up for a “little”?

 

Misery Loves Company

The Mothership Founders?

The Mothership Flounders, Founders And Slips Beneath the Waves?

Mothership's Best Friend?

Mothership’s Best Friend?

 

As I have progressed down the continuum of Canadianness, I have developed a special feeling for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. As a matter of fact, I used to really like it and appreciate the programming, even if I didn’t necessarily like all of it or agree with what was being said. But I recall waiting for an appointment about a decade ago where a spoke (person) for the CBC talked about shifting the focus and looking to appeal to a different, younger, demographic, and thinking at the time that this was a silly move because what they were after was a transient phenomenon that was already the prey to commercial broadcasting, and that the privateers had broader budgets and answered to no one in terms of standards of veracity or quality of content. So we got Ghomeshi and Strombo and perhaps some young ‘uns did either move to or stick with the mothership, but slowly the overall aspect of the place came to resemble a cheesy facsimile of the same dross that populates most segments of the broadcast spectrum. No longer is there a non-commercial entity out there to call bullshit when the odoriferous hits the circulating blades: the Mothership is beholden to some of the same revenues as the commercial idiot image generator, and gets the rest of its financing through an ideological  and pathological entity called the Harper Government. The last real source of advertising revenue pretty much got nuked this week when the National Hockey League sold exclusive rights to all broadcasts in Canada to the Rogers conglomerate, and you could almost hear the double thud as the oysters of what was left of the CBC fell into the tray for surgical detritus. Insufficient taxpayer funding combined with the end of any vestige of real clout in attracting private advertising spells a death knell for any meaningful existence for the public broadcaster, something that has become increasingly clear with the preponderance of business bafflegab and pop nonsense on the programming sheet. The National, which was once a serious newscast, has become a bully pulpit for panels of programmed apologists for spoliation and any catastrophe, no matter how minor, is the occasion for immense expenditure of resources and broadcast time until the story loses its legs, along the same lines as the same coverage from the privateers: there is only a story to tell as long as it sells advertising, and for every typhoon there is a helicopter in a Scottish pub, for every invasion of Kuwait, there is a Swissair crash off Peggy’s Cove. Peter Mansbridge once had gravitas, a standing that came with substantive reporting. He’s become a doddering, self-promoting figurehead, and I suspect he knows it, but can’t live without he media presence, or perhaps he’s worried that Mr. Harper has ransacked his pension. It’s a symptom of what’s happened all through the network. There is hardly a more useless news site than cbc.ca, slow to update, riddled with double entries, devoid of serious content and totally missing any whiff of context. Blackberry, once the darling of the tech world, has taken a similar tumble and seems the perfect reflection, as an advertiser, of the woes of the CBC. They may have a wonderful product, but who will ever know if they spend their ad money on CBC, and I can’t imagine that CBC will be generating enough funds from their association with Blackberry to stave off the totality of rump status as a megaphone for Mr. Harper. Perhaps the execs of the two organizations can plan a sort of suicidal synchronized swimming routine where they hold up first one, then two, then three fingers, as their respective organizations slip down the whirlpool of the drain of oblivion.

 

Might as well choose our distractions. Here’s Rory Gallagher:

Master of finger style guitar and patter with a particular twist, Leo Kottke:

 

 

Toronto used to have better exports than the Ford Brothers. Here’s the Walsh brothers and some friends dba Downchild Blues Band.

 

Hope everyone had a great Buy Nothing Day. I did. I spent the day mulching artichoke plants, cooking lamb shanks, playing my Godin Fifth Avenue, reading and quietly fuming about the future and the potential lack thereof.

“….and we’ll live beneath the waves, in our yellow submarine.”

ShipSpotting.com
© Andrew Lester

 

Driving past Nanoose Bay in the late Seventies was an adventure that must have twisted more than a few necks and people did double-takes at the sight of what appeared to be a World War II.-vintage submarine painted a bright yellow sitting across the bay and the marine ordinance testing station. Given that we were only ten years out from the original penning of Yellow Submarine and that the Canadian Navy didn’t seem to be that much of a threat to anyone, it was easy to think of this phenomenon as being fairly innocuous and more than a little amusing. The business at hand, it turns out, was fairly serious, and involved much more than just the Canadian Navy, with nasty real subs coming and going from the Winchelsea test range to see what they could potentially blow up with their non-doomsday ordinance.

I also recall having a rather visceral recoil at the announcement in the late 1990s when it was announced that Canada was buying four mothballed British subs to renew our aging and ineffective fleet. Having had experiences with Triumph, Norton and BSA motorcycles and with Triumph, MG, Morris and Jaguar automobiles, I was horrified to think that we were going to spend $750m for equipment from the land that produced Lucas electrics, commonly known in motoring circles, was Lucas, as the Prince of Darkness, a tart little appellation relating to the failure of all systems and the consequent lack of light or spark. In particular, on had to sake oneself why it was that the Royal Navy (the real one, as depicted on the box of Players cigarettes and a Procol Harum record) had mothballed these modern marvels. We were assured that they would be put ship shape and fighting fit prior to delivery, but such has not turned out to be the case, with these ships (actually, don’t real seamen call subs “boats”?) spending more time in refit than working to defend out coastlines from the marauding hordes of….the drug interdicted? The Russians? I’ve seen with my own eyes a couple of American aircraft carriers that have managed to slip through the protective ring, disgorging a multitude of swabs onto lighters and Government Street to admire the hanging baskets.

True to form, it seems to have taken years to refit  the ships prior to taking delivery, and then the poop came off the poop deck, with a series of onboard fires, groundings, leaks, both internal and external, and who knows what else. So the big news seems to be that the Athabaskan made an appearance being towed in dry dock to Ogden Point to be placed gently in the water to see if she would float, prior to shallow diving and eventual full sea trials. This refit apparently took five years, following the original refit. I suspect that the cost of getting this lot ready for service is more than the original purchase price, and we still don’t have a serviceable submarine fleet.

 

I would be happy to do without the sub fleet altogether. These are at least as useful as F-35 fighters, which is to say, they are good for the defines industry and no one else. My proposal is that they be converted into low-cost housing, or at least disarmed and set to tasks like monitoring ocean temperature, acidity, radiation levels and other potentially useful information, but I have a difficult time rationalizing even that usage when these things have to be manned by real personnel whose hair must stand up on learning of deployment, or who clearly already suffer from PTSD, and should be ashore getting treatment. Part of the romance of anything in British Racing Green was that it was a ready excuse to retire to the garage, but I don’t think we want to be doing that when the garage turns out to be Davie Jones’s Locker.

Nasty First-World Problems

A Place of Refuge and Reflection

A Place of Refuge and Reflection

There was a time when I thought I would be able, in my lifetime, to read all those works necessary to be well-educated, well informed and somewhat wise. For various reasons, I went off on several tangents, read a ton of material of little or no immediate value to one who would seek wisdom, engaged in other activities, and missed the target by a long way. The first and most obvious reason is that the target was silly and ill-informed to begin with and the product of an undeveloped intellect from the outset. There was a surfeit of worthy material before I ever conceived of the idea, and the parade of new material has hardly let up in the intervening years, so that I’m falling farther behind even as I work through my oft-redefined list of what constitutes the right matter for reading. This occurs to me with increasing frequency as we approach the end of the calendar year, which inevitably signals a torrent of “best of” lists. This helps me to see how little of a dent I’ve made in the literary pile, it gives me a sense of the scope of the production of the book mill, lends a focus to my sense of the expanding universe and leads me to reflect on where I am in this process. We need to add that this also applies not only to other forms of print, newspapers and periodicals, largely, in addition to the nuggets that come in the form of music (with or without lyrics), film, live drama and social interaction.

We don’t collect books the way some folks do. Generally, I read a book, ask Erica if it interests her, and following her use of said book, we look for a place to park it so that it will continue to be read in somewhat the same manner as certain plastic crab traps, once lost, would continue to kill crabs until something either buried them or they were broken up. The library is a good place for some of them, though we can never be sure that our lonely little contribution will be able to call out to potential readers before the physical book goes the way of the aforementioned crab trap. We also target friends and relatives who read, though this is also a bit of a crap shoot as people will smile at the site of a book from us, thank us profusely, and recycle it as soon as we’re out of sight, Who knows?

Having lead a fairly tranquil life, I still have recordings going back to something Maggie gave me when I was seven years old, a Saint’s Day present. It was a collection of stuff by some black women singers, principally Billie Holliday. I still like it and I suspect that I might have gotten this gift because it was to be part of the general family music education and because Maggie might well have wanted to have it around for her listening pleasure. I guess multiple justifications are fine, and when I was seven, I wasn’t one to question a mother’s motives. I have vinyl going right into the Eighties, a bunch of CDs and a rather hefty collection of digital files through iTunes, Wolfgang’s Vault, eMusic, CDBaby, ripped CD files and the odd free download from Joe Bonamassa and suchlike. In spite of this, all these download sites show clearly that I’m losing the race to own all the music I like. Here again, a problem arises in that my musical horizons keep opening up, meaning that, even though I’m losing the Blues race, and the Jazz race, there’s much in the Classical bin that is, and will remain, untouched for lack of time and other resources.

A serious question that arises from this discussion: what drives us to this impulse to “complete the set”, even when we know that the set will never be complete? Perhaps some of the cause lies in the barrage of advertising that confronts us at every turn, or perhaps this phenomenon is a result of other unmet needs. My answer? It’s not such a big deal, as long as we can keep our perspective. As long as the parade of content continues to get distilled into some vision of increasing wisdom, and as long as I don’t get walled in to a too-narrow definition of wisdom because of self-selection of content, there isn’t too great a cause for distress. However, we might give a thought to how we direct our energies: is all this creation making for better lives?

Baird-ing At The Moon

 

 

Always Willing To tell Everyone How To Do hints

Always Willing To tell Everyone How To Do Things

 

According to various headlines, John Baird has expressed deep skepticism about the agreement inked yesterday between Iran and the West over its nuclear program and he will wait to see if Iran abides by the agreement before considering lifting Canadian sanctions. I suspect the Supreme Leader and president of Iran are not quaking in their boots. It was plain that Baird would react thusly once Netanyahu opined that the agreement was a mistake of historic proportions, wherein it remains exceedingly clear why Joe Clark bemoans the state of Canadian “diplomacy”.

 

And, on an unrelated note:

 

Old Cartoon, Message Still Current

Like old Tom Lehrer songs, this cartoon, despite the replacement of Mr. Bush, remains pretty much on point. I wanted to share it in light of Laila Yuile’s engagement of a cartoonist to bring a bit of visual satire to her site. Humour is a great way to highlight the ills that plague us, and allow a chuckle as we contemplate all the nastiness and, hopefully, engage in remediation and restructuring. I’m also put in mind of a kind of column that I almost never see any longer, thinking of Art Hoppe’s series in the San Francisco Chronicle of the mid-/late-Sixties about the eighteenth year of our lightning campaign to wipe out the dreaded Viet Narian guerrillas. Who knows, they may be out there but I don’t want to bother looking right now.

 

 

 

So here’s a cute one from Mr. Fish:

 

Mr. Fish Takes The Electorate To Task

Mr. Fish Takes The Electorate To Task

Just substitute “Premier”, or “Prime Minister”, if you prefer, for “President”.

And perhaps have a listen to Chris Hedges as he speaks to a group of students:

 

 

 

Gee whillikers, all that just to welcome a new cartoonist to Laila’s site.

Teaching, and What Tories and Ford Nation Are Missing

When we were quite young, several of us in the younger generation of our family liked to make bets about little bits of obscure information, in effect, an ongoing tournament of Trivial Pursuit, avant la lettre.  This has carried on, though the betting phase pretty much ended when the payoff was forbidden by parental authority.  I don’t think it ever diminished the competition or the love of both trivia and broader knowledge. Hence, the Jeopardy reference:

Well, This Is Television, Isn't It, Alex?

Well, This Is Television, Isn’t It, Alex?

I believe it was this gentleman, a teacher from Massachusetts, who, as part of the between-rounds patter was cited for teaching his own class in critical thinking. Queried as the the nature of the curriculum, Mr. Barrieu replied that he was teaching his students to sharpen their “malarkey filters”. There was a brief pause for all to absorb just what that might mean, following which Mr. Barrieu added: “Well, this is television, isn’t it Alex?”, after which the host moved quickly to resume the game.

I’m not sure that I agree that critical thinking consists solely of having a functioning malarkey filter, but it certainly is a good starting point, and an item woefully lacking from the armoury of an awful lot of citizens are missing as they degenerate into simple consumers. A degree of skepticism and a willingness to dig into the available information would essentially do an end-run around the obfuscation and window dressing that is the bulk of what comes out of the disseminators of information, written and broadcast press, a group that, in turn enables people like Rob Ford, Stephen Harper, Christy Clark and the like to spout misdirection, meaningless and distractive factoids, half-truths and outright lies. Even with the euphemism, this man’s forthrightness is refreshing. It may eventually, carried to its logical conclusion, lead to some serious questions and to the the demise of post-political personalities, à la Sarah Palin, a trajectory that could soon be the destination for Rob Ford.