Watergate Whiners

Scientists claim addictive behaviors are caused by deficiencies in the pleasure centers of the brain. Though my sub-par marks in high school chemistry have forever branded me really bad science guy, I can cautiously assume that folks much wiser than I have determined that deficiencies in the pleasure centers (stop giggling) differ from your garden variety cases of clinical depression. This means, after careful analysis by really bad science guy, that there is a certain cause and effect to the phenomenon known as the addictive personality. Clinically depressed Bob just can't motivate himself to get out of bed and plant some roses. Addictive personality Bill has no problems planting the roses, but feels it just isn't the same without a pint of vodka and a bottle of Vicodin. Fair enough.

...And so, the 34th anniversary coverage of Watergate began (If you're wondering where I'm going with this, that makes two of us).

34 years ago, a politician lied. No kidding, this actually happened. A member of this elite group of morally unflappable guardians of civic virtue actually stood in front of the naive, doe-eyed masses and said something that wasn't exactly the truth. Apparently, if very important pundits with really great teeth are to be believed, this was the darkest day in American History; 57% of Americans agree, though only 14% admit to actually knowing anything about it. It's a very dark and important day because those who made their careers on it say so. Without the myth of Watergate, there would be no bubble gum news outfits like CNN, no Geraldo Rivieras, no 60 Minutes, and certainly no sitcoms about spunky female reporters who stick it to the patriarchy.

Watergate anniversaries are always difficult times to remain sober for anyone who doesn't eat things off the floors of public washrooms. Watergate is the most overblown scandal since Bob Dole popped Viagra to celebrate his 70th birthday. The media suffers from an acute case of addictive punditry. Not content to lie in bed in a state of lethargic contemplation, they want to party until last call, or until it's time to put Bob Woodward back into cryogenic stasis. The pleasure center of their collective brain is malfunctioning, and only hour-long documentaries about the day we lost our innocence will cure them.

To buy into the traditional media version of Watergate, one must first suspend all rational thought and believe two rather astounding assertions:

1) Before Watergate, Americans trusted their Government and its institutions.

Please. This must be the only day in history where the media forgets the 60's ever happened. Remember the 60's? You know, hippies, massive protests, taking it to the streets, don't trust anyone over 30? A movement that was sparked by mass disenfranchisement with government? The Civil War, the bloodiest conflict in American history, was a direct result of vehement dissatisfaction over the policies of the Lincoln Administration. Mistrust in government was a staple of American culture long before Nixon famously waved the V-sign from the open door of Air Force One. From Hollywood's flirtation with communism to the divisive fight for racial equality in the 60's, Americans have never been fond of Government.

2) Watergate was the gravest abuse of power in American history.

I wonder how much media attention will be given this month to the 64th anniversary of the day FDR completed the unlawful round up and detainment 120,000 Japanese-American citizens from the Pacific Coast? How about when Bobby Kennedy, the Patron Saint of American civil rights, bugged the offices of Martin Luther King Jr. (Ironically, this also required a group of fellows to break into an office in the dead of night)?

Despite the litany of allegations damning Nixon, only one small piece of evidence ties Nixon to the Watergate cover-up - a recording of Nixon brainstorming with Chief-of-Staff H. R. Haldeman in the wake of the arrest of the Watergate burglars. In the scratchy recording, Nixon advises Haldeman to have Deputy CIA Director Vernon Walters call FBI Director Pat Gray and request: ''We wish, for the good of the country, (that you) don't look any further into this case."

For all the talk of extortion, bribery, and strong-arm FBI tactics, that one statement is the evidentiary extent of Nixon's culpability.

Yet, on go the Watergate anniversary festivities, set to the endless drum beat of somber editorials dripping with inane metaphors. Nixon is hardly history's worst villain, though Watergate will forever be the epitaph of his legacy. He was a pensive bureaucrat, with a penchant for big government solutions at the slightest hint of a problem. He was plagued by insecurity, despite his astonishing intellect, and the role of president hung ill on his shoulders. He is fondly remembered by his staff for his graciousness and warmth. He knew the name of every cook and chauffeur, and was generous with his time and money to their families. He was a consummate author, penning over 2 dozen books and hundreds of articles in his lifetime. Every president from Reagan to Clinton sought out his advice in the midst of their most dire foreign policy crises.

But what does it matter? Every August 9th is Nixon bashing day. I'm staying home from the party - call me in the morning.

Cordially

Joe

Rush X 20

Most conservatives in their mid-thirties (yeah, that's me) cut their teeth on Rush Limbaugh. Despite the ever present National Review standing athwart history, and the Reagan years still fresh in mind, the left continued to have a stranglehold on the language and nuances on the overall public discussion. Not that lively discussion wasn't readily available to political junkies and policy wonks on shows like Crossfire and William F Buckley's much missed Firing Line. Outside these circles however, the words and ideas of what it meant to be a conservative, and the means to articulate and define your beliefs in public discourse, were largely missing. Democrats had the same old talking points that had remained unchanged since the party was hijacked by the extreme left in the mid-60's, and conservatives often fired back with the same tired old lines about their adversaries being "pinko-hippies", or resorted to religious come-backs that only served to re-enforce existing stereotypes, be it fair or not.

Then 20 years ago, a plump, cigar chomping man who was completely unapologetic about his conservatism arrived on the scene. It started with the radio show, then a short lived TV show, and then, of course, the book that changed everything...The Way Things Ought To Be. The book was revolutionary in the sense that it challenged all the iron clad assertions of the left in language that was accessible to anyone without being dumbed down. The book provided ammunition for the long suffering conservative middle class who had lacked the language and time to fight the good fight on the verbal front. The book was an immediate #1 best seller, and tore down the left's sacred cows of environmentalism, animal rights, socialism, and political correctness. Suddenly smug liberals spouting on about the ever looming environmental crisis if we didn't mend our gluttonous Western ways were smacked in the face with the question;

"Really? Mount Pinatubo in the Philippines spewed forth more than a thousand times the amount of ozone-depleting chemicals in one eruption than all the fluorocarbons manufactured by wicked, diabolical and insensitive corporations in history.... Mankind can't possibly equal the output of even one eruption from Pinatubo, much less 4 billion years' worth of them, so how can we destroy ozone?"

As William F Buckley wrote, it was "...a jolt of champagne!", and liberals were absolutely apoplectic. President Bill Clinton threw a famous temper tantrum over Limbaugh's almost daily beratement of him, and Congress even went so far as to try to muzzle him by passing an ominous sounding bill called the "fairness doctrine". All failed, and for almost 2 decades the left has tried to emulate Limbaugh's success, but have never even come close.

As a young conservative, I knew in my heart my cherished beliefs were right, but with the steady wave of liberal messages cunningly slithering their way into popular culture, it was easy to begin to assume that things like environmentalism were just readily accepted facts, instead of scare mongering being pandered about by agenda-driven special interests groups. Rush tore the roof off the liberal hen house, and things were never the same again.

I have to admit that I haven't listened to Rush in years, though I do read the occasional transcripts from his show. Limbaugh provided me with the foundation to move on to a meatier, more intellectual style of conservatism. I moved on to James Bowman, read National Review with a renewed vigour, discovered Mark Steyn and Jonah Goldberg, and gained an assurance about my ideals and beliefs that grew in the fertile soil of Rush Limbaugh's radio show and books.

Congratulations on 20 years of excellence in broadcasting, Rush. You changed things forever, and may you continue to do so for another 20 years.

Cordially

Joe

ZIP IT!!!

I am not an anti-social person by any stretch of the imagination. The restraining order against me greatly prohibits my contact with others, but when the restrictions are relaxed, I am a great guy to be around. Anyone one who knows me is aware that good manners and etiquette are one of the most important values I hold dear -and manners, as I define them, is being polite to people, especially when the other person is making it very hard to do so. Politeness is artificial good humor, as Jefferson once said. Manners are the last remaining vestige of what historians refer to as the western honour culture, and anyone who has recently received rotten customer service at the local burger joint by the green haired, multi-pierced kid behind the counter knows exactly what I'm talking about. Keeping this in mind, there are people with whom I find it difficult to hold to my own personal code of ethics - I call them bus buddies.

Bus buddies are people who lack basic social skills who sit next to you on a bus, plane, train, or shuttle. They - like people who overshare the details of their usightly skin conditions - also lack something that I call the verbal filter. The verbal filter is that little stop sign we all possess that prevents us from making inappropriate comments during day to day conversation.

Example: Say you're in the middle of a job interview, and your potential employer asks you what negative qualities you posses. Now, maybe you like to start off your morning downing jello shooters and mowing your lawn in the nude. For most of us, our personal filter would clamp our tongue shut before we volunteered that information and were promptly escorted from the building by security. Some people don't have - or choose not to use - their own personal information filter.

Bus buddies are the dread of every frequent flyer, and I seem to attract them the way Barney Frank attracts muscle bound Italian boys.

Claire and I flew on a major American airline carrier - I lose the term "airline" loosely because it seemed more like a school bus with wings. Claire was seated to the right of me, and my bus buddy was waiting to pounce on the left. Something creeped me out about the guy, and the moment I made eye contact, I found out why. For the next 3 hours he shot questions at me like he was skeet shooting at a clay pigeon - "Whatchya reading?", "What's it about?", "Where did you get your tattoo?", "Did you see the new Batman movie?", "Do you wish you had a motorcycle like Batman?"

I am a patient person, but I felt like weeping.

Anyway, I should take a breather to re-examine the old gratitude meter. I got to go to Miami and spend time in paradise with the lovely miss Claire and her folks. It can get hectic out there. Always take a moment during the day to think of your kids, or your loved ones, and realize just how lucky you are.

Cordially

Joe

Meet Me in Miami

It's 1:20am Thursday morning, and the lovely Miss Claire and I are preparing to jump in the car to take a 5:00am flight out of Halifax with a stop over in Newark, then off to Miami - the Fairmont Turnberry Isle Resort and Club in Miami to be exact. Those of you who are regular readers know I am not a heat person, so while I am thrilled, I am not exactly looking forward to the oppressive molten lava heat of Florida. I can't wait to go to a little spot called "La Hacienda" for Cuban sandwiches with black beans and yellow rice. Apart from that, the trip will comprise of the compulsory pilgrimage to West Palm Beach where I can horrify the locals with my impressive Canadian body mass index, brought about by countless weekends sitting on my ass and stuffing dill pickle chips down my gullet. My family crest has a picture of a remote control on it - we are more familiar with the words nap and fried shrimp than we are with words like jog and move it will ya?

Anyway, in regards to the last post.

Do you feel a little dirty? Like you've been used? Like the time uncle Larry sat you on his lap at Christmas time and, through his gin soaked breath, told you the joke about how milk and cookies aren't the only things that Santa chews on when he comes down the chimney? You didn't quite get the joke, but you that felt something very wrong had just transpired. When you went to bed you made sure you locked the door - a habit you still fastidiously re-enact to this day. Well, you should feel a little dirty, because I did use you. My last blog post, though every word was heartfelt, was meant to be inflammatory. I could have called it "the problem with Canada", or as my fellow blogger and former economic editor is fond of saying, "Cuba North", but I purposely named the article "I Don't Want to be Canadian Anymore", thinking that my knee jerk liberal-minded countrymen would fly into a unified spasmatic fit of sputtering outrage, staging a protest outside my super fly downtown apartment after they had politely asked for a permit from the proper municipal authorities - instead I got silence.

Well, not exactly silence. Not the type of silence you get from your wife when she finds out you came home so drunk you wrote your name in piss on the new white shag carpeting. Not that of silence. Instead, I got agreement (which to me is a political type of pseudo-silence). I would casually bring up the article in conversation and instead getting of Jap-slapped, I got suggestions of other things I should have added to the list....and these people aren't exactly card carrying members of the vast right wing conspiracy. Most of them are liberal with some libertarian leanings who feel that our judiciary and busy body bureaucrats are overstepping their grounds. I was rather relieved there are more people out there who seem to realize that the jack-booted thought police are running amuck on freight train heading toward a personal opinion near you.

Sorry I have to cut this short, but we really have to get going. See you on the way back, and please be patient - the Obama piece is coming.

Have a good weekend. In case I didn't mention it...we'll be in Miami...suckers.

Cordially

Joe

I Don't Want to be Canadian Anymore

Before you begin pecking furiously away at your keyboards like a thousand monkeys on a thousand typewriters, please take a breath - and please refrain from being so clichéd and unoriginal as to send an email or post a comment filled with righteous indignation telling me that if I don't like it here, I should move somewhere else. I get a dozen of them a month, and your sputtering outrage will be more yawn-inducing than watching an E-Canada interview with a bottle of maple syrup.

There are many things I love about my country. I'm grateful that we've finally elected a solid conservative government (note the small "c") who realize the importance of lowering the tax burden on middle class Canadians and corporations, re-vitalizing our long neglected military, mending fences with our American neighbours, and affirming with a clear voice our unwavering commitment to the security of Israel from Islamic extremists like Hamas. The late Liberal government refused to label Hamas a terrorist group until they had blown up enough children to make even John Wayne Gacy squeamish - well, if the great state of Illinois hadn't given him the juice back in '94. The bravery of our soldiers in Afghanistan makes my heart swell with pride, and I believe that we have just about the friendliest folks on the planet. Yet, despite all of this, there are troubling trends occurring in my country. Trends that cause me to pause, finding myself contemplating the impossible: I don't want to be Canadian anymore.

1- The Canadian Human Rights Tribunal: Recently, Dean Steacy, the principal "anti-hate" investigator of the Human Rights Tribunal, said the following; "Freedom of speech is an American concept, so I don't give it any value." Our Government is eroding our right to express individual opinion - I don't want to be Canadian anymore.

2- The Alberta Human Rights Commission: The Commission recently ruled that Pastor Stephan Boissoin could no longer speak about certain of his views at the pulpit, privately, or even in a personal email. His crime? Writing a letter to the editor of his local paper that offended someone he didn't even know - I don't want to be Canadian anymore.

3 - Madam Justice Suzanne Tessier of the Quebec Superior Court: Justice Tessier allowed a 12 year old to sue her father after he decided to not to allow her to participate in a school trip as punishment for continuing to visit an internet dating site on which she was posting pictures of herself. Justice Tessier ruled that the father had no right to discipline his daughter and forced him to allow her to go on the trip in her written decision. Our government and our courts are now infringing on parental rights - I don't want to be Canadian anymore.

4 - Blame America First: In a recent CanWest News Services poll, over 40% of Canadians described Americans as "evil". In Quebec, the number clocked in at an astounding 64%. I have to admit this causes no small amount of cognitive dissonance considering most Canadians blather on about how tolerant we are. After 9/11, former Prime Minister Jean Chretien had the audacity to imply that the 3000 people who were butchered by the Taliban had it coming - I don't want to be Canadian anymore.

5 - The Persecution of Mark Steyn: McLean's magazine recently printed an exerpt from Mark Steyn's brilliant book "America Alone", in which he warns of the rising number of honor killings occurring in our own country and the United states by radical Islamic extremists. Enter stage left - The Canadian Human Rights Tribunal. Mark Steyn is now being dragged before the committee for offending the sensibilities of a few people who seem to think that killing your daughter for wearing make-up is just fine and dandy. This may lead Mr. Steyn's illuminating and humorous book being banned in Canada. We are now becoming a country that is stripping away freedom of the press and banning books - I don't want to be Canadian anymore.

I can only imagine the can of worms I have opened with this column. I can already see my inbox dripping with outrage and maple syrup. If we don't wake up to what's happening in our own back yard, you may no longer have the privilege of writing in to tell me what a royal ass muncher you think I am. But that's ok...If you're really upset, you can always send a complaint to the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal. They'll shut me down in no time.

In the end, it's of little consecquence. If Obama is elected President, the cradle of liberty will be little more than a carbon copy of our fascist government, and then I'll have no place left to move to anyway.

Anyway, while you're lowering your blood pressure, enjoy the latest from the beautiful Regina Spector, singing The Call.

Cordially

Joe

Weekend Inferno

First off, thank you all for the concern you've expressed over my illness, but really, it was nothing serious. I have not come down with dyspepsia, shingles, or the avian flu. I didn't travel anywhere where you have to boil your water, and I didn't lay a sloppy one on the passenger next to me on a flight back from China. It was a run of the mill case of the flu, so please don't be concerned, and stop sending wreaths to my house - they're starting to rot.

Ever rip the backside of your jeans on casual day at work? I did. I felt a draft. It was the first sign. The second sign, aside from the ear piercing rip, was that some of my colleagues were seeing a lot more of me then they would have cared to. I had to zip off to the store to get a new pair of jeans, which I needed anyway. That's the thing with a favourite pair of jeans - you tend to wear them until they rip like thunder, or blow away like dandelion spores. Not pleasant. Anyway, you may now call me "thunderpants" if you would like.

As I mentioned earlier, I'm working on an Obama piece, but I want it to be air tight, like Barney's Frank's bloated ass, or that lady at the bus stop whose feet are swollen because she's retaining too much water. What makes Obama's past disturbing are not the rodents that are coming out of the woodwork, but the collective and radical beliefs they all hold. Obama seems to be on a daily filibuster express where he's constantly dissociating himself from segregationists, people who still believe in eugenics, and creepy slum lords who are now in the slammer. The Senator from Illinois keeps throwing his hands in the air claiming; "I didn't know these people held these repugnant views". As my new piece will point out, to believe that, the Senator would have to be extremely naive and/or stupid, or a back stabbing liar and con artist. Whether you check box A or B, it casts serious doubt on his fitness to be Commander in Chief. He's also getting sloppy on the stump, and reports are surfacing that he's useless without a teleprompter or prepared remarks. McCain is starting to go in for the kill, and the media have been strangely distancing themselves from their beloved golden boy, which leads me to believe they're sitting on something they're reluctant to throw at him...for now.

Anyway, I've got company coming, and the lovely Miss Claire and I have to get ready to be the half-assed hosts we're famously known for - but before you hit the X, enjoy the hypnotic Regina Spektor singing Samson from her latest album "Begin to Hope"

Have a good weekend.

Cordially

Joe

Blogging by Numbers - The Blog Before the Blogs

As you are now aware, my chest puffing about the site not going dark during my state to state quest through the cradle of liberty was indeed just chest puffing. I can blame it on some essential accessories we forgot to bring, the hectic travel schedule, our near-death battle with an army of pots and pans ninja robots, and the unfortunate incident involving missing the Jersey turnpike 3 times. Truth be told, while these are all legitimate considerations, in the end, we were on vacation and sometimes you have to leave behind the gadgets, laptops, cell phones, blackberries, and all the other whirly gigs that seem forever fused to our persons. Let the blogging by numbers begin!

1 - I sincerely apologize to those who where checking the site regularly for pictures of Claire and I standing with silly grins in front of all of your marvellous and iconic landmarks, but we'll have those for you soon. No one likes to look at other people's vacation pictures anyway. Isn't that on the list of people's top ten pet peeves? Right up there with people who display wood carvings of Dale Earnhardt in their living room, and people who start off letters to the editor with the preface "I don't usually write letters to the editor, but...".

2 - Anyway, lots of things have happened on the political landscape while we were away. It looks like Jonah Goldberg's allusion to smiley faced fascism may be coming to America sooner than you think - and it's name is Barack Obama. If the pixie dust hasn't cleared from your eyes yet, and you've yet to see that Obama's promise of "change" is really just re-hashed 1960's radicalism, you need a bitch slap. And then there's the litany of criminals, eugenics spouting anti-Semitic pastors, and murdering ex-terrorists that Obama has to distance himself from everyday. These were all his dearest friends and closest associates until very recently. All hold radical views, his wife being among the list. We all have a nut or two in our intimate group we call friends; However, few of us have such low moral standards as to call anti-Semites, segregationists, con-artists, and murders best buddies. We'll get to that a little later on this week.

3 - I will write about the trip. The kindness and hospitality of Americans is something that I will forever remember - the quaint little diners and corner stores run by Koreans and other immigrants, with beautiful oriental streamers hanging from the walls, all adorned with American flags at the tail end, signs next to the menus that proclaimed "support our troops", and men and woman so proud that they had sliced out a little piece of America for themselves, that were grateful for every day; The desk where Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence; The love and reverence of the people restoring President Madison's home. All are a testament to the beauty and freedom that is America and the American people.

4 - Looks like the New Brunswick Liberal party is finally getting something right, if they are to be believed. Finance minister Victor Boudraeu is talking about lowering the corporate income tax rate to anywhere from 13% to 5%. Such a move - inspired no doubt by consultations with Frank McKenna - would be a boon to the economy and much needed dose of common sense in an otherwise directionless and incompetent administration. Don't hold your breath.

5 - CNN rarely astounds me, but today, during a round table with Wolfe Blitzer about whether or not John McCain's war experience and subsequent captivity as a POW was an asset to the McCain camp over the war on terror, CNN's resident drunken glue sniffer, Jack Cafferty, had the following to say; "Yeah, but what have you done for me lately?" The arrogance and pettiness of this statement is astounding. John McCain is a decorated Vietnam veteran who spent 5 and half years in Vietnam POW camp, refusing to go - despite several opportunities - until every other man in his unit was let go first. Jack Cafferty's claim to fame is leaving the scene of an accident after hitting a cyclist with his car. Now that's courage. To quote Tucker Carlson, Mr Cafferty, you are a drunk and a retard and you'd probably be a wife beater if you had better aim.

Cordially

Joe

Edbama and the Tale of Two Americas

Just last week, Mr. "Two Americas" and former shifty trial lawyer Sen. John Edwards proclaimed he was above the fray and refused to support either Senator Obama or Senator Clinton. Mr Edwards claimed that he would spend his weighty (snicker) "political capital" (snicker) on issues he cares about - the chief among these being, I presume, suing doctors. But lo! Today, in a whip-lash inducing change of heart, Mr Edwards has decided that his "political capital" is still for sale to the highest bidder, and threw his support behind Senator Obama. Mr. Edwards, as you may recall, was the running mate of the effete New England Socialite and former Presidential candidate Senator John Kerry. Why the change of heart? It appears Senator Edwards believes that, and I quote; “There is one man who knows in his heart that it is time to create one America — not two — and that man is Barack Obama.”.

Those of you familiar with Edward's populist shtick will remember his failed presidential campaign slogan of "Two Americas". One half was made up coatless children and legless men living in the backwoods of forgotten America (I am not kidding, he's said this stuff) - the other half was made up of those greedy oil executives, HMO's, and "the rich". Greedy trial lawyers seem to have gotten an exemption and must live in some magical "Third America".

As we all know, Senator Obama has still not announced a running mate, and this is Senator Edwards' subtle way of saying "OOH! OOH!! PICK ME! PICK ME!"

Edwards is a first rate moron and political kryptonite. His support carries about as much weight as a bag of cotton candy. Obama's momentum is slowing down enough without adding the likes of a populist scare monger to his ticket to add any further drag - so naturally, we welcome the news of John Edwards' endorsement.

In other news, my intrepid editor and loving girlfriend Claire and I will be off to Boston, Washington DC, and Virginia starting May 22nd for 7 days. Are we going dark on the site? No I say! We will be providing photos, commentary, and, hopefully, Wolfe Blitzer's kidney in my on going effort to convince the avuncular newscaster of the revenue windfall that would be realized by auctioning the aforementioned kidney on E-Bay in a mad kidney for profit scheme.

Have a great weekend, see you in Virginia.

Cordially

Joe

Oh Canada?

While preparing for work this week, I tuned into a local radio station that was discussing whether there was any useful purpose to be served in playing the Canadian national anthem at hockey games. Several residents phoned in, showing an almost even split between those who thought this was a meaningless tradition, given that most of the players on Canadian hockey teams where drafted from other countries, and others who - admirably, if somewhat clumsily - spoke of the need to preserve tradition in a country that seems hell bent on dismantling what little traditions we have left.

The host, through a clever slight of hand, framed the question in a manner that pigeon holed the parameters of the discussion. The question, as formulated by the host, was actually whether or not the national anthem "inspired the players". Yet, no matter how slipperily the question was framed, the fact that the radio station was even having such a ridiculous discussion is symptomatic of a much larger problem: The lack of cultural identity.

Ask any bloke on the street what it means to him or her to be Canadian, and they will frequently spew forth a litany of ready-to-order items off a check list, most of them declarations about how they are not like Americans. The common version of our watered down notions of national pride boils down to silly tub thumping about how we don't let sick people die because they're poor, or how we don't all carry guns, and of course, the ever annoying lament about how we don't start "useless wars". You know you're in deep trouble when you define your national identity in the negative. Who you are should not be explained in terms of who you are not. If someone where to ask me, "Who are you, Joe, as a person?", and I were to respond, "Well, I'm not a pedophile, and I certainly don't torture animals", it may make you feel safe about Spud and little Johnny, but it speaks very little to what I'm all about. And therein lies in the rub.

In the 1960's we were beginning to engrain in the national psyche what it meant to be Canadian: Honour in combat, the railway that was the bridge that connected this country from the Atlantic to the Pacific, our natural resources, and our pioneering ancestors. But there was a counter movement eager to crush this burgeoning sense of national heritage. It was the progressives that held that patriotism was a dirty word, and insisted we were all hand-holding members of the kumbaya cult of pan-ethnicity. Their leader? The white-on-white wearing progressive hipster Pierre Elliot Trudeau. If America was the melting pot where people of diverse cultures and heritage stood proudly under the banner of a united culture that welcomed inclusion, Canada was to become a bizarre soup in an another type of pot, where the burner was never turned on and it's colourful ingredients were left to sit in stagnant cold water.

Multi-culteralism - the abra-cadabra all encompassing, non-threatening name that was to be the banner under which the most misguided experiments of social engineering was launched. Multi-culteralism frowned at any patriotism of the whole, and encouraged a strange ethnocentric loyality to your nation of origin. The result almost a quarter of a century later are ethnic ghettos where poverty runs rampant in large cities, and entire swaths of the population that do not posess adequate proficiency in english to compete in the job market.

The true Orwellian nightmare of multi-culturism in all its glory is a neferious little group of jackbooted bureaucrats called the Canadian Human Rights Commision. Anyone who doesn't like a magazine article, or feels excluded for whatever reason from some facet of society, can drag magazine editors, writers, artists, priests and even night club owners in front of the commision. Currently, Canadian writer Mark Steyn has been ordered to appear before the council after a complaint was launched by the Canadian Islamic Council over an article that he wrote in Mclean's magazine that warned of the growing threat of radical segments of Islam preaching hatred and intolerence from certain Mosques. They didn't like it. So in the spirit of free speech for all, they intend to haul Mr. Steyn before the tribunal, which may lead to his brilliant cautionary book "America Alone" being banned in Canada. The tribunal has never acquited someone brought before the commitee.

Woodrow Wilson, the first American President to try - but thankfully ultimately fail - to turn America into a Canadian-style welfare state, was a bit more heavy handed. He routinely shut down newspapers, and even had his own personal goon squad at his beck and call to intimidate those who spoke out against the government. Now Canadian citizens are being forced to endure the same type of bullying, albeit under the guise of a "Human Rights Commision".

It's all a bit disheartening that we've reached a point where we are actually debating whether or not we should still sing the national anthem at sporting events. Perhaps soon, such things will be but a memory if the jackbooted goons at the Canadian Rights Tribunal have their way.

Cordially

Joe

A Hateful Little Man

Let's start with the customary apology for the lapse in blogging. As regular readers know, I have the sickly constitution of Doc Holliday, but none of his legendary propensity for overall stamina. I am on the mend from the attack of the unknown parasite that made my stomach feel like it was being mortared by the Viet-Cong, and am slowly returning to the world of those who function with a minimal degree of cognisance.

I had initially intended for this blog post to be an acidic condemnation of that smarmy little anti-Semite, former President Jimmy Carter, but I don't believe the buffoon deserves the effort it takes to tap my fingers on my keyboard. I had held off calling President Carter an anti-Semite for years, as I had done with Pat Buchanan, but there comes a time when your words, actions, and the people you keep company with define who you are and your core belief system. Those who have read his hateful little tome, "Peace Not Apartheid", will be well aware of the outlandish claims that Carter makes in the book, including the old paranoid canard about Jews controlling the world economy. Even Kenneth Stein, former director of the CARTER center, had this to say about the book;

“President Carter's book on the Middle East, a title too inflammatory to even print, is not based on unvarnished analyses; it is replete with factual errors, copied materials not cited, superficialities, glaring omissions, and simply invented segments.”

“The history and interpretation of the Arab-Israeli conflict is already drowning in half-truths, suppositions, and self-serving myths; more are not necessary.”

President Carter has officially gone off the reservation, and has lost his priviledge of being taken seriously in civil discourse.

Have a great weekend.

Cordially

Joe