Bus Ride Ruminations: iPod chic, or iPod sheep?

For the last few days I’ve been taking the bus. The morning bus isn’t too interesting. It takes a round-about course through Ft. Richmond and picks up some people going to work downtown. The inbounds are a few working stiffs like myself. Workin’ early.

But to the catch the bus home I stand on Dafoe, in front of the School of Music. It is the of the U of M transit hub, and I watch all the students come and go. Today there were three gorgeous African girls who smelled amazing, and a more than a few Asian couples all goo-goo eyes over each other. There was a nerdy trio of not-very-attractive guys—Physics types—getting their white sneakers wet and dirty in the melting mud. And there was the stench of spring; a pungent soup of sod and soil, wafting on the breeze.

I was older than most of the students, but my white earbuds made me inconspicuous. Everywhere I looked there were white earbuds. I started to feel like a complete conformist, and I wondered to myself: “Why am I so apposed to conformity? Why do I hate myself right now for having white earbuds?”

Sitting on the bus and watching Pembina roll by I philosophized that my aversion to conformity is rooted in my upbringing; but I retain my abhorrence because conformity leads to a lack of questioning yourself about your values. People who conform often do so without thinking about the practices they’ve decided to adopt or support. They are ripe for the manipulation of the would-be puppet masters who play them.

Nonetheless, I admit that it’s weird for me to feel self-conscious about having white earbuds. But I do. I’m very self-conscious about public displays of wealth. I am such a fierce opponent of BLING that I feel hypocritical owning any nice things.

The other thing I thought, was: “Wow, we looked like a bunch of sheep.” I wanted to walk up to someone else in white earbuds and go: “Bah-ah-ah-ah…!”

One guy I noticed had painted his bud strings a very light green. I figured him for an artist, because he had a large art-board something wrapped up in brown paper. I too painted my last pair of earbuds, but I used a blue Sharpie and the ink didn’t dry on the surface. I had the blue Sharpie Midas touch for weeks.

My friend Dr. Hodge laughs at the goofy things I do so consciously to not be associated with anything popular. He thinks its comical that I’m so virulently non-conformist; and I would have to agree, at least some of the time.

But I always think of myself as setting an example, even though I’m probably not ever. The majority of the time nobody’s looking at me going: “Look at how he lives, isn’t that interesting! He won’t wear anything with a Polo pony or a Swoosh on it.” No I don’t expect that, but I do think the higher road is to live free from such marks of distinction. Most of these companies are entities who’s morals I don’t subscribe to in the first place, much less the notion that wearing them will make me better somehow.

Yes I use Apple products, but I was weaned on Apple, it’s not my fault. I enjoy the products very much, I just hate the marketing that goes with them. And I can’t fully explain why, except to say that it is somehow exploitive, and when it emphasizes the BLING, the “Look at Me! I’m in every movie and TV show!” I get perturbed.

But whatever, it’s not worth the $2 I spent on a bus ride to ponder my distain for white earbuds. In the meantime the seats are filled with all sorts of interesting student types, many cute girls among them. Winter is over, and it’s time to put one’s loopy philosophies away with the parkas.

**This article made me think of John Scoles' "House Coat Diaries," ergo the link.

Why I "Stand on guard for Thee"

My Papa used to make my sister and I stand up for “Oh, Canada” when we were at his house for the start of Hockey Night in Canada. I still do it sometimes (just last weekend in fact). I think my Papa was being ironic when he asked us to stand up—he wasn’t very patriotic, nor indeed am I. But I never questioned his motives. If it made him happy for me to stand up for the national anthem, I was going to do it. My Papa wasn’t very easy to please, he was a difficult man and a drunk who left a lot of broken hearts in his wake. But he wasn’t that to me. To me he was the grouchy old man with the wet and whiskered rye whiskey kisses. Papa hated Howie Meeker and the Blue Bombers and Barn Swallows. But he loved cribbage, Amma and his grandchildren.

Get Over It

All day today I have felt
a lead weight in my stomach
getting heavier and heavier
the weight of loss.
The depth of grief
is now encircling me:
I have gone through denial
and anger
through the prayer that faith in fate
will restore my loss.
I thought I was above it all
that no stolen object
could cause any great concern.
I was wrong
that bike was part of me
and who I was—
I can't be that person anymore.
But change is change
who am I to argue
when my faith in fate hands me an assignment?
It's just possible that this bit of luck
may not play out so badly
in the end,
one never knows.
(Nonetheless, fate is a fucker.)

Bike Stealer

This is a notice I nailed to my fence this morning. I don't think it requires any further explaination

Respecting the Album

These days, thanks to the whole iPod thing, I listen to a lot of random music. And it's mostly rock, because it's while riding my bike that a lot of music listening gets done (never fear, I am still very attentive to the road—that's what the mirror is for). And when I'm riding I want something that's going to help me keep my legs pumping.

But when I put on a record(ing), especially one that is a veteran in my collection—one that's seen a lot of use—it makes me remember how much I love just listening to one great record at a time. Case in point: I am listening to Lady Day a retrospective of Billie Holiday's work on Commodore Records in the mid to late 30's. LOVE this album! It's like an old friend. The CD has been to Europe, and Tofino, and New York City. It has always made me feel so "fine and mellow." So here's to Billie, who shares her first name with another one of my very favourite people: my Nana, and here's to actual albums (compilations included).

Sometimes, war works—and sometimes it doesn't.

Here is an editorial from today's Free Press and my response. They usually call if they want to publish it, so I'm betting that they won't, since they did not call

Sometimes, war works

SOME choices are pretty simple. You can have Saddam Hussein on trial for crimes against humanity in a courtroom in Baghdad as a result of the Iraq war. Or you can have him still committing crimes against humanity against Iraqis and others as a consequence of not going to war.
You can have a democratically elected government in Afghanistan, a hope for freedom and human rights there, as a result of the Afghan war. Or you can, as a consequence of not going to war, have a brutally oppressive Taliban government that offers no hope to Afghans of a better future and serves openly as a nesting ground and safe haven for al-Qaida and other Islamic terrorist groups that promise to make the streets of Canada and other Western countries run red with blood.

You can have a free and fair democratic election in Haiti that offers the impoverished people of that wretched country at least a glimmer of hope for a better life because of an international intervention there. Or you can have the continuing corruption and the Haitian hopelessness of one dictator after another.

On Saturday, anti-war groups around the world demonstrated on the third anniversary of the war in Iraq. In Winnipeg, about 200 people rallied around an inspiring banner that declared "Winnipeg still says no to war", apparently oblivious to the fact that Winnipeg and Canada had said no to the Iraq war more than three years ago. The demonstrators did not just say "No!" to the Iraq war. They also said "No!" to the Afghan war and "No!" to the intervention in Haiti.

They did not specifically say "Yes!" to Saddam Hussein, "Yes!" to the Taliban, and "Yes!" to Haitian hopelessness, but neither did they offer a third choice to any of those three nations. That leaves the general public with pretty well only one conclusion, which can most charitably be described as that the anti-war movement, if there is in fact such a thing, is clearly against war but is not for anything useful.

Sometimes there is no alternative to war if democracies are to defend themselves and stand up for what they profess to believe. In a post-cold-war world, that has become increasingly clear to most people and it is the reason that the so-called anti-war movement is looking increasingly bedraggled these days.

Across Canada and in the United States, the anti-Iraq-war rallies fizzled because Canadians and Americans understand that intervention is not always wrong. The Iraq war has been difficult, but it is working and has been worthwhile. The alternative is Saddam Hussein in jackboots instead of handcuffs. The Afghan war has gone well but remains messy. The alternative, however, is the international nightmare of the Taliban. Haiti is perhaps in its essence the messiest of them all, but Haiti now has at least a hint of hope. Canada did not participate in the Iraq war, but it has been an important player in Afghanistan and Haiti. Canadians should be proud of that -- and grateful that, thanks to their soldiers, they can still walk the streets and object to it.

...and sometimes, it doesn't.

Though the hawkish editors of the Free Press like our chances for war these days, they aught to be careful when gleefully celebrating different conflicts under the same banner. Equating Afghanistan to Haiti to Iraq is disingenuous and endangers the moral justification for these separate engagements.

Case in point: the contention that the war in Iraq "has been difficult but worthwhile" is completely counter to almost everything else I've read, lest it be a White House press release. The war is mired in deceit; it is costing the U.S. billions, has deteriorated its international credibility, and has led Iraq to the brink of civil war. Going well you say?

The editorial points to the fact that it was important to rid Iraq of Saddam, but there are dozens of other tyrants who are as ripe for replacement as he was; when will the editors demand we go to war in Central Africa?

Easy as it is to poke fun at a poorly attended peace protest the Free Press does its readership a disservice by using it as a tactic to glorify unjustifiable Imperialistic wars.

Capitalism is just another form of Slavery

Capitalism is just another form of slavery.
But is more insidious than its predecessors.
You believe that you can win the game—
by collecting all the prizes along the way,
if you have the means.
But in the end it is still all about power and control,
fooling so many ambitious working people into believing
they can mortgage themselves some glory.
Selling the grand fallacy of status through objects
so beyond our natural needs.
Wasting somebody else’s tomorrows
for a number on a balance sheet
and a bigger skyscraper than your rival.
Feeding off the labour of the poor
keeping them down to keep profits up.
“Returns for all stockholders” the unholy mantra,
constant growth like a cancer on earth.
All to finish ahead of Fred,
or keep your title as “World’s Only Superpower,”
as the case may be.
Almost everyone who is not wealthy
is indentured by debt,
debt is a very effective form of slavery.
But to the wealthy!
To the wealthy is a life
of dreams come true
a dream so wonderful
that no one ever stops to imagine
what it would be like
if everyone could have
the same amount of stuff.
Some complain that this is a failed idea
because dictators dressed in Red
were finally spent out on an un-fought war.
and realized that Capitalism
was a more lucrative form of control.
But the trouble with Capitalism remains.
Rich people walking around with blinders on
poor people without the means
to communicate their needs,
and the shrinking, struggling middle
trying to keep their sanity
in a crazy, mixed-up time.

Terrornoia

Here's another article submitted, and apparently rejected, by the Winnipeg Free Press. I got the inspiration for this article from a story published on Sky Onosson's blog about a bike mistaken for a pipe bomb.



Recently on my way through the security zone at the airport I had a moment of a panic. “Damn,” I thought, “I forgot to take the dull two inch pocket knife off my set of keys, there goes another 20 bucks.” My last trip through security had cost me a similar knife, even though the officer recognized my last name from having played pee-wee football with my uncle.

But my distress and annoyance were alleviated when I realized that in the rush to get to the airport I’d left my keys at home. Fortunately for me I had the forethought check my other banned carry-on items. My collection of blasting caps, my brass knuckles, and of course the box cutter I never leave town without, were safely stowed in the baggage compartment.

A cyclist in Ohio was not as lucky. He had the unhappy experience of having his bike torn apart by the bomb squad because of his allegiance to a Florida punk outfit called “This Bike is a Pipe Bomb.” While the band will undoubtedly reap benefits from this act of lunacy, it is a sad state of affairs when the fear of terror leads to the destruction of a perfectly innocent bike. After all, every terrorist knows that a TNT laden vehicle will deliver a much greater wallop—and thus more front page coverage—than a Shwinn filled with gunpowder and rusty nails. But I suppose you can’t be too careful anymore.

Yes, terrornioa is in full bloom across the formerly Free World. Every day citizens are spied upon in greater numbers. Those with the wrong religious beliefs and/or stamps on their passport are sent overseas for a form “questioning” that involves electric shock and the removal of finger nails, not to mention all human dignity. Forgive me for if this sounds naive, but doesn’t it all seem like a bit of over-kill?

While it was tragic to lose thousands of lives on that fateful day in September 2001—and in all the scattered attacks worldwide before and since—will torturing people, suspending civil liberties and confiscating corkscrews ever bring an end to terrorist tactics?

Can the “War on Terror” be won by wantonly attacking states because their ruler double-crossed your dad? Or will such actions bring your nation and its nobler intentions into disrepute among your friends and enemies?

Granted, America’s done superb job of selling its war to the domestic audience. By forecasting the level of paranoia people live in on a handy colour chart, and blaming it all on former business partners, they’ve created a very successful brand. Come to think of it its sounding more and more like how things are done on Madison Avenue.

However, in declaring all bets off in the “War on Terror” Bush and his buddies have placed the entire franchise of Liberal Democracy in jeopardy. If it’s okay to torture, spy and invade indiscriminately, in the name of a threat that cannot be seen nor contained, how can America—formerly the beacon of light for tyrannized nations worldwide—hope to sell a progressive and enlightened model for society abroad?

The power of Western civilization, or so I’ve been led to believe, is the notion that justice, equality, freedom of expression, and increasingly, tolerance for people of all races and creeds is its ultimate goal. Of course in practice we have a long, long way to go; but for a while there it seemed like every new generation was getting hipper to these ideals. Even if folks later abandoned their humanistic principles in favour of a fully equipped BMW and a comfortable retirement, there was always hope that their children would carry them forward.

Will future generations be given the opportunity to learn that Liberty and love are the greatest gifts any person can receive on Earth? Will they know that the forecast for terror, whether red, yellow or green, does not make their lives more or less safe from harm; that they are far more likely be killed crossing the street, or by way of cancer, than by anyone boarding an airplane with a pair of scissors?

Much as we crave security in our lives it should not trump our greater responsibilities. According to my understanding of both the Christian and Islamic religions—along with the secular humanism I subscribe to— these are to try and love and respect one another for the brief time we are here, and to make sure this little planet is still a place our descendants can call home.

Ryan Kinrade will be distributing bumper stickers for his new band “This Car Will Explode in 22 Minutes” via his blog at: disclaimerinc.blogspot.com.

what is the point of higher education?

what is the point of higher education?
is it to make today'’s high school student
in to tomorrow'’s automaton?
is it to weed out undesirable applicants
by way of a multi-year job interview?

or is it a place where your mind is refreshed
a place to cut-down great thinkers
and convention with equal abandon?
where you learn to respect human accomplishment
and think about ways to build on it constructively.

it is sad to see university become a commodity
because it drives up the cost and lowers the quality
but at the same time its good that all these people
get a chance to learn more about their world—
even if they are doing it as part of their job interview.

Eulogy for the Greatest Cat Ever

The greatest cat that ever lived died yesterday. He was the sunshine around here, the affectionate, curious, talkative, warm and bright little bit of business who everyone loved at first sight. He was the rare kind who would jump up on you and find the ideal spot in the crook of your arm to roll over in. Once prone he was the cutest thing imaginable, and no-one could resist his fuzzy belly, or that place between his armpits where he enjoyed, with copious purring, a good massage.

He loved everyone he met, but most especially his people: Renée, Ryan and Josey. In his healthy days he would come bolting down the stairs to see you when you got home, he would hang in the bathroom when you showered and take a nap on the sofa with you, all to be next to you. He was a big talker, especially first thing in the morning when he wanted his bowl full. But he also spoke to say “hello, special person” and “love me” and “I’d like to go outside, please, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

He was a stunningly handsome cat. Our orange buddy had the nicest coat of fur, was small in stature and in perfect proportion. He had lover’s eyes, and was so kissable. He was a big kisser himself, if you weren’t being careful you could get frenched by him—the mouth was his favourite place to lay one on you.

I am so glad that he lived his short life with us. Everyday he brought happiness.

Fate was not overly kind to Jean-Luc, abandoned as kitten, exposed to a fatal disease (probably at the shelter that rescued him) and taken from this world far too young. But it did bring him to this house where our love for him was unquestioned, where we shared his short life and made him feel happy and wanted, and he made us feel the same. The house is empty without him today, and there is sadness. But there is also relief, relief that he is no longer suffering. His last days were increasingly difficult, and we were prepared to put him down, but he died naturally in the home where he lived and was loved by all.

Goodbye Jean-Luc, thank you for your life, thank you for your love. You made my life better everyday by being someone to snuggle with and care for. If there is a heaven for cats you are certainly there, with somebody to retrieve your rubber mice from under the refrigerator and scratch your belly whenever you desire. You will not be forgotten by those who loved you, and knew you to be the best cat in the whole world.

Are You Sick of This Subject Yet?

Yes, I have been ranting on about my woes with MPI, and I'm sorry if it bores you. Anyway I wrote an article I had hoped to have published by the Free Press on the Editorial Page but perhaps it was a bit too vitriolic and unballanced. Anyway, I am going to appeal the surcharge to the "Rates Appeal Board" based on the fact that the levy is "unduly harsh," the only appeal option open to me. I promise not to write another word on the subject until I attend the hearing and have the result. In the meantime here is the passed over article:

Back in December I had the misfortune to be involved in a single vehicle accident. It was a rare cold day in what had been a predominantly mild winter to that point. The streets were coated in a layer of black ice. I was pulling into the driveway of the group home where I work with the company vehicle, a maneuver I make every day, when my front wheels got away from me and I plowed into a snow bank. The bumper cracked; maybe because the molded plastic bumpers they use on vehicles today become brittle in the cold. I’m not totally sure, I only know that I was driving—in my estimation—responsibly.

Prior to this incident I had maintained an accident-free driving record for more than 10 years. The van I drove was completely insured, and no damage was done to anyone or anything else. Despite all these facts the Manitoba Public Insurance Corporation (MPI) insists that I pay a $200 surcharge to keep my driver’s licence. This $200 is in addition to the $200 deductible charged for repairs to the van. It is a punitive levy that the corporation instituted across the board in 2001 in order to create more “fairness” in the system.

According to the Customer Service Agent I spoke to it is fairer to the majority of Manitobans to let them keep the merits and pay the surcharge, because merits provide a discount on insurance. He gave the example of someone who insured multiple vehicles, and the hardship a reduction in merits would cause this unfortunate soul. Needless to say I was largely unsympathetic.

As a person who does not insure a vehicle annually, the merit discount system is of little value to me. I would happily cash in all of my merits to avoid the avaricious levy the public insurer intends to collect. But I am not given the option. This is how their heartless PR department phrases it on the MPI website:

Q: Why do I have to pay a surcharge for having an accident?

A: Drivers cause accidents not vehicles. Surcharges make sure that all drivers who cost the insurance fund pay more into the insurance fund. For a 1st accident, registered owners do this by paying undiscounted premiums*. Non-vehicle owners do this by paying a driver surcharge. Surcharges increase in direct proportion to the number of at-fault claims.

*Vehicle owners with 6 or more years of claim-free driving will no longer lose their 25% merit discount after a first at-fault accident (that occurs on March 1, 2001 or later). Instead, they will pay a one-time $200 surcharge on their drivers' licences.

Some people will probably agree that the statement above—though rather cold and defensive—seems fair. But it is not fair from where I sit. I had one very minor accident in 10 years while driving a fully insured vehicle. In my opinion it should be incumbent on MPI to collect enough in annual premiums and deductibles to cover their costs. It should not be on my back to feed their bloated insurance fund because I don’t own a vehicle. Why should I subsidize people who can afford to own more than one automobile when I don’t own any?

If I was driving recklessly, or had been involved in multiple accidents, then I can see how additional charges might be justified. But in the case of a pure accident, shouldn’t the insurance company pay-out without looking for an additional graft?

This policy punishes good drivers who have decided for economic and/or ecological reasons not to own cars. If the provincial government is insistent on letting its crown corporation collect fines on people’s licences—a deplorable practice that robs a lot of people of their most universal I.D.— they should at least give vehicle-less citizens the option to use their merits to offset the insurer’s punitive levies.

Works For $6 A Day

Here in Winnipeg Pattison Outdoor, my former employers, have developed a clever little ad for the sides and backs of busses (which they are apparently having a hard time renting out). This is my clever little jam on those ads. (Click on the Image for a blow-up).

The Dark Brilliance of Caravaggio

A while back my roommates and I were talking about art. I was trying to remember the name of the great master of a technique called chiaroscuro, a method of using contrast between light and dark (especially when related to a primarily dark painting with a single source of light) to create three-dimensionality and drama. The master, whose name I've just come across in a magazine article was Caravaggio. I have stolen some fine examples of his work from this web site: http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/caravaggio/, and posted them for your viewing pleasure. Perhaps I'll research/write more about him in the future; he was one of my favourites in the Art History course I took at U of W.