Easier to Apologize

Pimm's Cup Runneth Over

Pimm’s Cup Runneth Over

 

A report in the Globe and Mail outlines how the development of a rodeo ground on agricultural land that was rejected by the Agricultural Land Commission, where the current Minister of Agriculture lobbied in favour of the prospective builder has actually been build, despite the rejection (http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/british-columbia/rodeo-development-proceeds-without-government-approval/article15406994/). An administrator with whom I worked used to say quite often that it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission, and why to I suspect that forgiveness is already built into this project because of the imprimatur of Pat Pimm, the possibly very conflicted minister, and the general attitude on the part of the current régime in Victoria that it would be more than convenient if the ALR were to just disappear so we could all get on with the real business of drilling for oil, gas, or whatever else it is that the Liberal money pots want in return for their largesse? What should happen? I recall the story of a design job by a certain architect who was mindful of seismic risks and who ensured that the specifications for the foundations of a certain school called for considerable reinforcing steel. When he showed up at the job site for the pre-pour inspection, he was apprised that the cement had arrived and that he pour was complete and curing. Said architect got a sledge and started to do some random sampling on the foundations and discovered that there was no rebar at all in the footings. Result? take it all out, redo it to spec. Everything that developer Terry McLeod has done in contravention of the ALC ruling should be taken out at his expense, and any delay in action or payment for the removal and remediation should result in forfeiture of the subject parcel. Any bets on whether there will be any such action?

That Time Of Year

Yes, it’s the Christmas selling season. We don’t even wait for Halloween to be over any longer, with perhaps the slightest hint of a truce for the Remembrance Day Ceremonies, and then right back at it. This record came home when I was about nine years old. It gave me a somewhat different perspective on Christmas:

Of course there’s also Black Friday to get through, but in Canada there seem to be a series of Black Fridays and other Black Days. It also seems that the back-to-school routine, which starts about the time students hit the beach in July, is barely cold in its grave when the Halloween sugar orgy fires up. In addition, the aforementioned Remembrance Day observations seem to have stretched out into a month or six weeks of breast beating and bleating about the freedoms we enjoy as a consequence of the sacrifice made by current and previous generations. I fully subscribe to the notion that we should honour, cherish and care for those who serve the greater good of society, and it’s galling that the politicians who are always front and centre at the ceremonies and who bleat the loudest (well, not quite as loudly as Donald S.) are those who plot to send these folks on what are most often the business of business, indefensible missions to chase people of colour off the land under which is hidden our oil, gold, diamonds, potash, lithium or whatever else is necessary to keep the consumerist wheels turning.  What seems to pass entirely under the radar, besides the nonsensical idiocy of the missions, is that we’re still doing diplomacy about the same way Metternich did post-Napoloenic Europe, and that these wars clearly represent a failure of diplomacy and a failure to address the structures that underlie that (lack of) diplomacy. But I know that we will really have come off the rails when I see Valentine’s greetings before we finish the Christmas orgy of consumption.

 

It puts me in mind of something that St.-Éxupéry wrote in The Little Prince, where the fox is talking with the Little Prince about what makes one day distinguishable from another:

“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.

“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all.” 

There is so much noise about special occasions that the occasions are less and less special. The celebrations are so ritualized that they risk losing any personal meaning or context: this works out well when the message from one holiday to another is that we ought to go out and buy stuff, and shopping is pretty much the same, window dressing aside, from one occasion to the next.

So Mr. Lehrer, you say it so well:

“Christmas time is here, by golly, disapproval would be folly.

Deck the halls with hunks of holly, fill your cup and don’t say when.

Kill the turkeys, ducks, and chickens, mix the punch, drag out the Dickens,

Even though the prospect sickens, brother, here we go again!”

An Offer Too Good To Be True?

But first, one of my favourite twangers, not twanging in this case, though there are some licks that have a sniff of a pedal steel in them. If you know Gatton, you’ll know this isn’t his steady diet, but it seems he could do just about anything. I’m terribly thankful that he wasn’t camera or microphone shy, and there is a lot of his playing available.

 

 

The real mainstream of tonight’s symposium ( steal a quip from Tom Lehrer, another of a different ilk, but worth a listen), is nuclear energy, particularly the recent statement by a group of respected (outside of the Heritage/Fraser Institute crowd) climatologists, including James Hansen, that we need nuclear energy to make the transition to an economy eventually centered on renewables, solar, wind, tidal, geothermal and the like. As I watch the plume of radioactive cesium  from the Fukushima disaster spill out across the Pacific Ocean, I recoil in horror from such a concept. The idea of feeding the beast that is the nuclear industry with all the forever-in-practical-terms waste it generates, the vast corrupt business and government connections it maintains, the general willingness to cut corners in the name of profit and the inherent danger in corralling a runaway fission reaction strikes me as being repugnant and counterproductive in the extreme, almost on a par with the continuation of the use of fossil fuels, with all the attendant pipeline, rail, fracking, refinery and distribution infrastructure, and, of course, the myriad layers of labyrinthine connections between those same industry and government structures.

Then I spent a bit of time yesterday watching a Youtube video, when I could, and perhaps should have been studying to become more Gatton-esque, about molten salt reactors and the use of thorium rather than uranium. I won’t go into the gory details, most of which are irrelevant, nor can I get into the physics, but it seems as though there is legitimate expectation that this technology could, and should, replace our current nuclear infrastructure. Here is the video:

 

So I did a bit of a quick search and found the company that is looking to propagate this technology:

Flibe Energy

And this morning, a former student posts a link to this on Facebook, stirring the whole thing up some more:

Industry Tap: Thorium Powered Automobile

Not that the process of reconversion isn’t fraught with pitfalls and dangers, but it almost looks like one of those offers that’s too good to be true. And even with the promise of plentiful and non-polluting energy (or, shall we say, less-polluting), there is the constant danger that the whole scheme, like so many others, will fall prey to the rapacious control behaviour of the same clique that is responsible in large part for the corner into which we have backed ourselves.

Finally, from the wonders of the information age, a closing statement from the aforementioned Tom Lehrer:

 

A Constant Battle

Top line update:

This was over at the Gazeteer’s this morning. Vonnegut was a favourite and this story tells an important lesson.

http://pacificgazette.blogspot.ca/2013/11/who-says-almost-meeting-your-heroes-has.html

 

I’ve always loved music and have always loved learning. My aunt was a band/orchestra/choral teacher and devoted much time to her church music as well. My mother was a music critic at CBS a long time ago, but made it part of her mission to see that her family had musical opportunities. In the family, we had pianos, a clarinet, an oboe, a trumpet, a French horn, various guitars and even an operatic voice. It pains me when our local schools admin attempts to curtail any arts education. There was a link to this on Facebook this morning. Frankly, lets scrap big sections of the military and do this instead:

 

Why Music? The Many Benefits of Musical Education
Why Music? The Many Benefits of Musical Education via Cool Daily Infographics

Of course, Dad was an architect who also painted when he had a rare free moment,  and was more than keen to pass along the rudiments to whoever would sit in front of an easel. Mother took up pottery at age 52 and produced a volume of wonderful creations. We all used to draw (imagine the potential staring you in the face when you unrolled the back of a superannuated blueprint and contemplated a dozen square feet of white waiting to be filled with the childish scrawlings of whatever child held the pencil…

And the house was full of books.

 

Have I Seen The Future? As We All May, Were We Paying Attention

I have pretty strong recollections of arriving in these parts in March of 1968 and feeling that BC was a couple or three decades behind my former California digs, behind in crime, behind in grime, behind in overconsumption and bluster. OK, no more Fillmore/Avalon Ballroom/Straight Theater dance-concerts and no more free wheeling social life in the way it was practiced in marvellous Marin and in the Marina district. I also recall that, not long after, I thought it might be an idea to actually walk the five miles to school one lovely morning, and that said walk took longer than it might otherwise have because Saltspringers at the time didn’t see that walking was a viable mode of transportation and would pull over to offer a ride (“Hey, aren’t you one of the new kids? Lemme give you a lift…”), and where there were several versions of shaking heads that a teen would actually walk rather than get a ride right to the front door of the school. The community ran the gamut from the hip and out there to the real estate developing movers and shakers, but there did seem to be a very sense of community and a willingness to help others where the need arose. Saltspring Island, along with most of the East Coast of Vancouver Island, the Sunshine Coast and the Salish Sea generally have gone the way of Marvellous Marin, becoming a mecca for money from elsewhere, a locus of gentrification, and, in a way, a mirror of a society that has seriously lost its way. In the same way, our Canadian society has caught up with much of the mean-spirited social Darwinism of our friends to the South, and much of this is reflected in the state of our cherished community institutions, health care being a prime example.

We love you, especially your wallet.

We love you, especially your wallet.

A recent look at some time-shifted television from Detroit gave rise to some reflection on what health care will look like in a short time if we continue along our current path to reinserting greed into the equation. Every break for ads contained at least one, and often several, spots for health-related items. Some of these were prescription medications (“Talk to your doctor about adding Rigormortis.”) but many were for actual hospitals and their associated health management companies. I don’t even want to know what it costs to advertise on network television, even in a depressed market like Detroit, but it must be substantial, and some of the outfits aren’t even located in Detroit–In one instance, it is suggested that you make the trek to Chicago to treat your cancer. In one half-hour, there must have been at least a dozen of these slick presentations. It’s plain that a good portion of the health dollars spent in the U.S. (read private medical care systems) goes to promotion. There is also all the paper shuffling, apparently a much steeper cost in the U.S. than in more social jurisdictions, and, finally, beyond the salaries for highly trained professionals, there is the cost of hiring the best and brightest administrators of corporate health management organizations and a dime or two for shareholders. The Affordable Health Care Act is but a timid step is a vague approximation of the right direction, and, oh! my, what a fuss it has caused among the fans of Tea and the Fraser Institute, excuse me, Heritage Institute zombies loose on the streets of Laredo. And here in the land of Canuckistan, where socialism runs rampant, there are signs that we’re headed very much the way of the good ole boys who shoot ducks. That same Fraser Institute published a report yesterday bemoaning the increase in the interval between diagnosis by a generalist and treatment by a specialist, noting that said interval had pretty much doubled since 1993, and that Canadians should get accustomed to a more innovative system (code for a privatized, for-profit system). Ironic that they should cite 1993 as a baseline. Oh, yeah, it’s a nice, round 20 years, but it also marks the coming to office of one Paul Martin as finance minister, whose desire to slay the deficit outweighed such promises as scrapping NAFTA, reversing the GST and killing the helicopter contract. Martin did in the deficit, but mostly at the cost of services to the general citizenry, returning less money to provinces for health and education, for housing and social programs, a canon right out of the FI playbook. And now, behold, we have a proliferation of advertising on Canadian media about insurance to cover items not paid for by general health care, where Blue Cross will, for a monthly premium, pick at least part of the tab for any comely young woman who happens to get bitten in the butt by some stuffed toy in unlikely circumstances. It gives me this sinking feeling that we are looking at another of those altered baselines, where we get Mike Duffy’s and Pamela Wallin’s expenses, expensive military hardware of dubious usefulness, a surveillance state only slightly less imposing than the NSofA, but poverty and illness on reserves and in city cores, closed public hospitals, schools of increasing irrelevance, and a parliamentary system that is crumbling under Con attack.

If you don’t see this blossoming right before your eyes, save up some coin and see your nearest political ophthalmologist.

This little video is pretty enlightening:

https://www.upworthy.com/his-first-4-sentences-are-interesting-the-5th-blew-my-mind-and-made-me-a-little-sick-2?c=upw8

Step On the Assembly Line, Pay First At The Door

Step On the Assembly Line, Pay First At The Door

Trade Expansion

Small, but effective, rogues' gallery.

Small, but effective, rogues’ gallery.

CETA: CEE TA look of Canada as it disappears off in the distance. This treaty has little to do with putting Canadians to work, and less yet to do with the prosperity of thee and me. It aligns us with the European Corporate Bureaucrats, meaning that everything will likely continue to get more expensive, and that control over pharmaceuticals and water will disappear entirely as the NAFTA-Chapter 11-style investor state relations clauses are invoked to override any sort of local control over economic issues. Along with the loss of economic autonomy goes the consequent loss of sovereignty as Canada slides to the bottom of the corporate client chasm. Harper, as usual, is sanguine in his expectations for the results of this agreement, as he is for the China-Canada FIPPA and the TPP, and well he should be as he ensures that the economic cupboard for Canada is entirely bare before he makes an exit for his beloved USA, where he counts on joining the winners’ circle in the economic game with the wealth and status conferred on elder statesmen and economic stooges.

And, no surprise, no one in the usual press sources has much to say about the downstream effects of this abomination, other than to mention changes in cheese quotas and the increased freedom of beef farmers to export into the EU (they don’t seem to have noticed that EU producers are already going down in droves in affluent jurisdictions as poorer Eastern producers undercut  labour costs and sidestep inspections. Same old crap as  FTA and NAFTA. Have fun, boys and girls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dissonance

Heads up! Here comes the bullshit ball!

Heads up! Here comes the bullshit ball!

 

The feces seem to be splattering lightly off the blades of the fan in official circles as Canadian monitoring agencies appear to have hacked into servers in Brazil’s ministry of mines. First, Carol McNeil invited a former CSIS director to give his perspective, which predictably turned out to be a thin justification under the heading of a paper exercise where our boys were gaming a terror threat. Spin and damage control filled the screen with nary a challenge from Ms. McNeil. This was followed by a clip from Mr. Harper where he assured us that the government doesn’t share intelligence with private concerns, say, mining companies or energy consortia. It set off a bit of an alarm in that, quite recently, it was revealed that considerable government resources were being directed to the support of a series of energy projects as they move through the permitting process: if actions speak more loudly than words, we would have to assume that there is a good chance that the government is involved in wholesale industrial espionage for the benefit of Canadian business. This is surely jumping to a conclusion, but it’s plausible, and given the government’s record on truthfulness and forthrightness, there seems to be little that emanates from official Ottawa that is worth much trust. It’s particularly amusing to watch the crocodile tears over the damage to the relationship between the two countries (first think Embraer and Bombardier), and to absorb the faux contrition from Mr. Harper as he bemoans what will surely be a loss of faith in Canada’s goodwill. It’s like the husband who had a fling and got caught (no preemptive confession here) but assures his wife that it’s not official policy, or that it’s someone else’s fault. Too bad that the follow-on is likely to fall off the press cycle pretty quickly as back-channel chocolate and roses are laid on to patch up the marriage and ensure that business can go on as usual.

 

Spy-vs-spy

Investing In Their Future, Not Ours

Get Some Of That Overseas Booty

Get Some Of That Overseas Booty

 

Mr. Harper is crowing ( and I can’t even imagine Christie’s twisting and twerkings at this news) over the Petronas announcement that they will invest a total of $36 billion to build an LNG facility and associated infrastructure here in BC. Setting aside considerations of the fried planet with continued burning of fossil fuels, setting aside the devastation of hydraulic fracturing with its negative impacts of both land and water, not to mention the possibility of poisoning from sour gas, set aside the considerations of the corruption in the political and economic systems, and let’s talk about what investment really is in this context. Simply, it’s that we are unwilling to invest in our own economy, so we bring in the outside money, money that has a price. Not only does this take us back to the days of hewers of wood and drawers of water, it ensures that the best of the value generated by local activity ends up in Kuala Lumpur. This situation is particularly acute in the face of an administration that refuses to invest in a truly sustainable future by creating local capacity to employ our own citizens to provide for our own needs before we go off to look after the needs of shareholders in the international commodities market. For every $30 billion that comes into the country, we can count on that much leaving the country in short order, along with a premium for profit and the damage to the local landscape for which no one will be responsible under the current system of privatizing profits and socializing costs. Mr. Harper will just tell us to suck it up and either ignore what we can’t see or pay ourselves for his gifts to investors. My capitalist friend wags his finger at me and tells me that this attitude ensures that nothing will ever get built and that we will languish in the dark and twiddle out economic thumbs, that there is no prosperity without foreign investment. So far, based purely on my own narrow (but long time) observations, we’re headed that with the investors, so I don’t see that there’s a lot to gain. Saint Ronald Reagan’s Shining City On The Hill is a chimera populated only by those ranked bishop and above, or whatever the secular equivalent might be, leaving the rest of us to toil in obscurity and frustration. When investment becomes mostly local and supportive of people, I’ll be on board. In the meantime, I’m probably headed for some metaphorical equivalent of Lampedusa.

In The Night Garden

My grand daughter used to watch a rather pointless television show called iIn The Night Garden, and example of which you can find here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeYhb8h47CE

 

I was out planting the last of the garlic this morning and found this.

 

Calling Card

Calling Card

 

It’s about ten centimetres across, and is either from a very big dog, or, more likely, one of our local bears. We’re very careful about compost and we don’t leave fruit on the trees. This part of the garden is fenced, but bears hardly deign to recognize the existence of a fence. I went looking for the “deposit” type of calling card, but found nothing.

Meanwhile, here is what I brought in for Sunday dinner with the rest of the family. Grandchildren do love them some corn, and there seemed to be no difficulty in giving away some butter to go with it.

A Gathering

A Gathering

In addition, there remains a load of stuff to be harvested on an ongoing basis, some of it to be mulched and some to have tents for cover through the cold, rain, and snow, truly local food, which brings me to the subject of today’s venting: local food that isn’t.

A recent labeling decision by the provincial government defines as local anything that comes from this province, meaning that food from the Peace River area is now local to Vancouver Island, a notion so patently absurd that it could only have come from the kind of government currently occupying the throne. This is the kind of drek that allows supermarkets to advertise local food that patently isn’t local, and who’s to tell the difference? It represents further cheapening of language by removing any sort of precision from the meaning of key terms so as to keep maximum hold on all aspects of the economy in the hands of Jimmy Pattison. There have been many attempts to water down the idea of organic culture, and it’s getting to the point where organic will be impossible because there will be so much genetic pollution in the seed pool that there will be no organic feed nor fertilizer, meaning there will be no organic food in the real sense, but who knows what Christy lark, Stephen Harper and Jimmy Pattison (or any of the Westons, or others of that ilk) will be able to call organic and actually have people believe.

Finally, and after this I’ll go do something constructive, I promise, in response to a Facebook post by Denis Olsen, I posted this video link of Albert Collins playing with Lonnie Mack and Roy Buchanan. Check out where Collins attaches his capo!

Collins, Mack and Buchanan

 

 

Two Teles and a V

Two Teles and a V