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.

...And Speaking of Education

My Mom asked me to write Revenue Canada after she recieved a letter of rejection for a tax credit she expected from a German language course she took at U Vic. Below is their justification and our response.

REVENUE CANADA:

We have adjusted your federal claim from $155 to $0 and your provincial or territorial claim from $155 to $0 for the following reason(s):

-The course you took cannot reasonably be regarded as one that will provide you with new skills or enhance your skills in an occupation.

ME AND MOM:

Dear Revenue Canada,

I was dismayed that you rejected my claim for a tax credit on tuition fees on the basis that my chosen course of study will not enhance my skills in an occupation. It was my understanding, based on the receipt I received from the University that I would be granted a tax credit; no one said anything about how this education needed to be directly related to the possibility of enhancing my employability.

In the first place, you seem to have insinuated that my studying of German has not benefited Canada economically. In fact, my tuition was helpful, insofar as it was paid directly to the University, an institution your political masters have consistently under-funded. Not only that but I purchased books in German from local sellers. Perhaps I will use a Travel Agent in the future to book a trip to Germany; more spin-offs for the local economy. Therefore regardless of my ability or desire to use my course directly as a business resource there have been benefits to the Canadian economy.

In the second place, since when has it been a qualification that educational tax credits are conditional on the basis of how much future revenue they generate for the federal Government? If this is indeed your policy it is your obligation to publish a complete list of the courses you deem worthy of tax credit and make it available to the Canadian public. As a highly informed and literate person this is the first I've heard of it. It is deplorable that you would use the dubious method of rejecting a claim after the course has been taken and the money paid, in spite of your promise of a credit.

Furthermore, your decision is a direct insult to retired persons who choose to use their hard-earned savings to better themselves and their communities through continuing education. I may no longer be gainfully employed, but I continue to pay taxes and use my knowledge to benefit society. In turn I expect that will honour the rules you have created to help me save on my taxes, much as I have honoured your right to collect them.

In conclusion I request that you a) reverse your decision regarding my educational tax credit forthwith, as I have proven it to be economically beneficial to Canada and b) send me a complete list of the courses you have designated worthy of tax credit status that I may use it for my future reference.

Education is a Right

Here is a letter written to the Winnipeg Free Press on Feb. 20 and my response:

Re: Universities pay steep price for tuition freeze (Feb. 19.)

I would like to know why every couple of months or so the Winnipeg Free Press takes a swipe at students' groups and everyone else who believes that post-secondary education should be affordable and therefore accessible for all Manitobans.

There are two ways of looking at education: the first is to see it as a commodity. Under this model there is no limit to the cost of tuition and only the ultra-wealthy can afford it.

In study after study, cost is identified as the single largest barrier to education. The other way of looking at education is to see it as a right. We believe that books and learning should not be roped off like a gala at a yacht club.

Perhaps the Manitoba Business Council should lend its expertise in developing administrative efficiency at our colleges and universities as opposed to ensuring the exclusivity of its membership by pushing for elites-only access to education.

CHRIS MINAKER

Chris Minaker is correct in stating that education is viewed as a commodity. The majority of students who seek a University level education do so with the hope of increasing their prospects of meaningful and lucrative employment upon graduation. Indeed a majority of the nation's best employers now demand that their employees become more marketable by attaining some level of post-secondary education.

But he is dead wrong in assuming that education itself can ever be limited to those who can afford it. Anyone who can get a library card or buy a book can access education. Furthermore, those who wish to educate themselves can attend free lectures and even audit University courses if they so desire. No one in our free society can rope off the right to learn.

While I sympathize with the plight of lower-income Manitobans who seek to better themselves and their career prospects through higher learning, I believe activists like Mr. Minaker should refrain from hyperbole when making their case. Those of us who appreciate honesty and balance are not swayed by such arguments.

Bachelor Pad 2002 X-Mas Card

I was trying to come up with some portfolio items tonight, and I came across this. I can't believe I took the time to texture and shadow everything, and I did it all on my super-slow 1995 Mac. It must have taken me a month!

No, I'm not drunk, or an idiot...but I just can't talk to women

IMHO / BY RYAN KINRADE

WHEN it comes to dating, a lot of single guys like myself suffer a wasting disease that renders us incapable of becoming the Casanovas we know we are inside. Chronic shyness has sent millions of otherwise fine and eligible gentlemen to their graves as bachelors throughout the ages.

Shyness is something I've struggled with since my teens. I've been unable to figure out why I am crippled by this tragic affliction. It's not that I think I'm ugly or unintelligent. In fact, I know myself to be just the kind of person that a lot of women say they want. I'm a good listener, I love children and I'm a domestic all-star. I'm mature, passionate about art and life, and -- I've been told -- a damn good kisser.

So how come when I'm out there in the world, at a pub say, on a Thursday night, all that comes out of my mouth is garbled? How come I can't work up the nerve to say something witty or even just plain dumb to that cute girl who just flashed me a pair of come-hither eyes?

The key ingredient to a successful hook-up is confidence. Nothing flattens a soufflé faster than a stuttering buffoon who can't even manage a conversation starter, however lame. Yet for some reason, whenever I see a pretty girl, my mojo just seems to fly out the window, and unless I am forced to talk to her (i.e. she is my waitress) I seldom do. In fact she could be just my type, standing alone, talking to no one, smiling invitingly, and the odds are still very good that I will not talk to her.

Funny thing is, once I'm introduced to someone I'm usually fine. I can keep the conversational fires burning and flirt as a normal human would; in fact, I can be downright charming. But I cannot initiate, and even though the rules of dating have changed considerably in this post-Sex and the City world, a man who cannot initiate is almost always dead in the water.

My irrational fears are not alleviated when my married friends start to cajole me with helpful little taunts like: "Right there, Ry; she's looking at you, go talk to her." No, rather than listen to their advice, well meaning as it is, I will take an unnecessary trip to the washroom to hide for a while, and when I come back I'll have another Standard and a shot of Jim Beam, thank you very much. Not that liquor ever does the trick -- if anything, it makes me more self-conscious. But hey, if you can't get lucky, might as well go for the consolation prize.

Perhaps I should be peppering my act with bravado and building interest through innocent lies, as I learned in advertising class. But I can't escape the idea that I must be honest about myself -- I guess you could say I have a bit of a moral complex on top of the shyness.

The only thing I'm sure of is that I must keep trying any and all means to scale the walls that dam me in. Because I really do want to share my life with someone special, or at least have the nerve to ask a girl out once in a while. I like movies, I like plays, and I do hate to go alone. Who do you discuss the plot and characters with if you've gone solo?

My roommate suggested I start by talking to guys: people in the check-out line, or on the bus, random strangers who interest me. This, she advises, will get my nerve up a bit; that way when I do finally approach a pretty girl I'll know I'm capable of small talk, I'll be more comfortable in my own skin and I might even have developed a solid opener.

But the wisest thing she said was this: the best way to do something is to tell yourself "I can" instead of "I can't." I've been telling myself I can't talk to women for the longest time.



Ryan Kinrade plans to chat up ordinary Winnipeggers indiscriminately and invest in a copy of The Little Engine That Could in the immediate future.

More B.S. from the Public Insurer

Today I recieved a letter from MPI regarding the $200 Surcharge they are attaching to my licence (Read the original rant and letter to the Minister I wrote in December by clicking on the title above). At the bottom of the letter it reads:

It's about fairness
Collecting more premiums from drivers who have caused accidents ensures they pay a fair share of the costs from those accidents. Otherwise, we'd have to ask everyone to cover the costs—including those who haven't caused any accidents.

That, quite frankly, is a bunch of crap. In the first place insurance is not about what is fair—it is about numbers and risk. The insurer uses the term "fair" to justify its policies, much like a politician would. It sounds good, and those who do not encounter it (i.e. the majority), do not object to it. What they are doing is collecting an extra fee from me because I do not pay premiums on a vehicle. They claim it is fairer that Manitobans be charged extra on their licences rather than losing their merits. But the fact is that losing merits doesn't bring extra revenue to MPI, surcharging licences does. Given the choice I would surely surrender my merits, rather than pay their punitive surcharge, unfortunately the monopolistic insurer has no interest in providing that option. It is more interested, according to the Customer Service Rep I spoke to, in insuring that people who register mulitple vehicles are not unduly punished for having accidents. Apparently those who own more vehicles are intitled to a better deal than those who own none because they pay more into the system, and presumably, more taxes. I had ten years of clean driving, hit a patch of ice on a driveway and hurt nothing but the flimsy bumper of the company van I drove. Now I must pay $200 on top of the $200 deductible I am already responsible for, and that's "fair"?

In my opinion the insurer should have the option to raise the rates of the vehicle that was involved in the accident, irregardless of who was driving. It should not at any time use its influence as a provinical crown corporation to affect the cost of vehicle licencing. If it cannot collect enough money from deductables alone then it can raise deductibles. It is my right to appeal, which I will likely do, however, I still firmly believe that this policy is pure B.S. and should be irradicated.

Rebuke of the Union

Oh yes, lead us
brave America
with your secret police
and international
detention centres.
Your way is the way
to Freedom
but the man with a small
dick who runs your country
is fucking things up
for all of us.
It's not really even him,
he's just the salesman,
the lovable guffoon
who you can absolutely trust
even when he's pitching
absolute horse-shit.
He's a gutless little Nero
holding on to broken notion
of what it means to be a great man.
He worked really hard
to have it all handed to him
and now he wants to make his mark,
stamp a purely elitist and corrupt ideology
all over the history books
and whoever's left to read them.

We Don't Need Your Stinking Call Centres

This is another letter sent to the editors of the Free Press. If you have a subscription there is a link to the original editorial embedded in the title of this posting.

Steve Demmings' article "Manitoba's lack of motion: Province missing boat" is a highly skewed and misleading PR piece that should to be dismissed without further consideration. Mr. Demmings, president of a call-centre consulting firm, bemoans the fact that Winnipeg lost out on attracting companies like RIM (Research In Motion: manufacturers of the Blackberry) from setting up shop here. Never mind the fact that RIM is less than a month away from a hearing in the U.S. that could spell oblivion, or that more and more "customer contact centres" are leaving our shores every day for cheaper labour overseas, we should, he argues, be doing our best to foster a high-tech work force to man a ship that has already sailed. I would counter that the way to develop a "knowledge economy" is not to hop on the backs of wind-blown, bottom-line obsessed multi-nationals, but to create innovation and excellence within our own community by encouraging the growth of small and medium sized businesses. Sell your snake oil somewhere else Mr. Demmings.

The State of Our City Today

It is not all flowers and rainbows
on the streets of Winnipeg,
but sometimes you forget
how desolate it can be.
Everyday there is another
tragedy in the making,
always plenty of evidence
of broken spirits.
And then there's those
assholes who capitalize—
leeches on the killing floors
of Capitol-ism.
It burns me up
to see dispare so evident
so many people lured
into a life devoid of meaning.

That Rebel Weed

Here's a poem that got me into a bit of trouble at the Pembina border crossing in 2003, when I went to sell Christmas trees and sleep on the streets of Manhattan. Being the single, young Canadian traveller with a one-way ticket I was a natural target for inspection.

I imagine they were most interested if I was bringing drugs. As if I'd be that stupid. Whatever, it's their job, and I think they get genuine pleasure out of making people sweat. I was cool. I had nothing to hide, except the fact that I was going down there to work illegally. And there was no physical evidence of that.

But there was a poem that mentioned "that rebel weed" which the officer read while perusing my private journal. And he questioned me about it. I told him quite honestly it was about dandelions. I used to be obsessed with weeds as a poetic metaphor in the mid-nineties. I was taken-up with their tenacity, inspired by unwanted things that could be so beautiful and free. It had very little to with marijuana.

July 24/98

Looking back
to when I was so consumed
with emptiness
wondering how sorrow could be so
addictive

Now sunshine
is reaching the cracks—
weeds are pulled, uprooted
for flowers
and it seems as though anything
is possible

Remembering that
I still cherish that rebel weed
a confusing emblem
of annoying yet voracious life,
only now will colour and charisma
shine forth

At the opposite side of the book was another entry that he read, this one was written the night before.

11/25/03

Pre-Trip
It is the night before I take off into my American adventure. Ren hit it on the head when she said that I am in the portal. I am neither here nor there, but waiting for the near-distant launch into another world. Add to that the strange hours I have subjected myself to in preparation, and it becomes clear that I am in a zone that Nikki described as being 2" in front of your face. If only I weren't so nervous about sleeping-in & missing the bus, which after all does not leave until 9:40. But I guess pre-trip jitters have to manifest themselves somehow. Only 7.5 hours to go.

Ironically, I only used the journal once on the entire trip, and that was to record my feelings about the border crossing. The rest of my observations were written nightly on Christmas cards and then dispatched via the Post Office on 84th Street. It is up to all my friends and relatives who kept their cards to put the pieces together again—I'd be grateful if anyone of you typed one into the comments ; ).

Here's what I wrote about the border crossing:

Border Crossing
The usual suspect—Young Male, casual labourer with casual plans. I would have been extremely surprised if they had waved me through, I am the type that if I were them I would scrutinize. But my travel plans, sketchy as they are have a definite conclusion, and my bank statement is compelling evidence that I have the means to support myself. Still, it is nerve racking sitting in that room being interrogated. I can only imagine how horrible it would be if I were Mr. Arar, or if the inspector had not believed my reference to "that rebel weed" referred to dandelions and not to pot. It is the curse of the wayward artist to face such sticky situations, but thankfully this is still a free country, and the word of an honest citizen is still worth something. (I don't know if I was being sarcastic at the end, but I certainly was not being totally honest, and I am by no means an American citizen.)

Flip the Coin

Below is an e-mail forward I got from my mom, and my response to it. I don't know if she sent it to me expecting my sympathy or if she was trying to bait me, but I hope it was the later, since her church has undoubtedly sponsored more than its share of refugees over the years.

SUBJECT: Canada Pension

It is interesting that the Federal government provides a single refugee
with a monthly allowance of $1,890.00 and each can also get an additional
$580.00 in social assistance for a total of $2,470.00. This compares very well
to a single pensioner who after contributing to the growth and development of
Canada for 40 to 50 years can only receive a monthly maximum of $1,012.00
in old age pension and Guaranteed Income Supplement. Maybe our pensioners
should apply as refugees! Lets send this to all Canadians, so we can all
be ticked off and maybe we can get the refugees cut back to $1,012.00 and
the pensioners up to $2,470.00 and enjoy some of the money we were forced to
submit to the Government over the last 40 or 50 years. Please forward to
every Canadian to expose what our elected politicians are doing to the
over taxed Canadian.

REPLY:

It is interesting that a Canadian Pensioner has lived his or her entire life in a nation free from civil war and political persecution. This compares very unfavourably with a refugee, who has not had an opportunity to contribute to the growth and development of his or her nation, and who in fact was forced to flee that country leaving everything they know behind forever. Maybe we should be thankful for the opportunity to be Canadians and share our good fortune with those unlucky enough to be born in less affluent and more tyrannical parts of the world.

34 looks like this:

Destination Anywhere

This poem was written on the back of two handbills for Corefest circa 1997
Prairie fish
navigating
slow, brown rivers
weaving
endless twists and turns
is there a method
to your madness?
do you meander
eventually
to the greater sea
or flounder
into an ox-bow?
does the rich salt
invigorate
the gills
or forever does
fermented algae
unfilter you?
Great Sturgeon
or prairie salmon
you are at the forks now
will you turn
back up against
the muddy current
or continue down
the water shed
to destination anywhere?

Simple Math: Cars are Expensive

Although I am largely in agreement with Dale Wiebe's letter about how to encourage Winnipeggers to cycle, I don't think any tax breaks are required. After all, someone who commits to cycling year round will save a considerable amount of money without needing any further economic incentives.

I offer the following simplified example. My commute is approximately 118 km a week. If I owned a typical car outright (a 2000 Chevy Cavalier 4-door in mint condition for the purpose of this argument), had no merits on my licence and paid $.90/litre for gas for 48 weeks (one year less vacation time and extreme weather days) it would cost me just over $2000 to run the vehicle. Of course if I had to make payments or repairs on my car or decided to use it for anything more than going directly to and from work that number would probably be more than double.

It amazes me that so many Winnipeggers will drive across town to save $10, but seldom, if ever, think about the real cost of vehicle ownership. Virtually everyone with the wherewithal, and many more without, consider a privately owned car a necessity, but it is not. It is a luxury that consumes vast amounts of their annual income.

Wake up thrifty Winnipeg, a bike is not just a path to better health, it is the road to a fatter wallet.

Original Article (WFP Subscription Only)
Original Letter (WFP Subscription Only)
N.B.: The Photo was taken without permission from the Winnipeg Free Press, Wayne Glowacki was the Photographer

Correspondences with my bank manager (post script)

This is what my bank manager had to say to my last letter (posted Jan. 10). I'm not sure if the fact that I sent a complete copy of our correspondence to the office of the Bank President lit a fire under his butt, or if he genuinely agreed with my comments. In any case, I got my way.

Dear Mr. _______:

Thank you for your response and more importantly, a second opportunity to
alleviate the irritation this matter has caused you. I apologize for the
lack of formality in my first response and hopefully can assuage the
disappointment it has brought you.

It is difficult to trace a disbursement beyond the electronic data capture
of a transaction at an off site ATM machine. The actual ATM transaction
register may have to be reviewed in this instance. Considering the
difficulty retrieving this from a third party and more importantly, our
initial offhandedness, please accept our apology and gesture of goodwill
in reimbursing your account the $20.

I would welcome an opportunity to meet with you on any of your banking
reqirements or just to introduce myself more formally. During your next
branch visit, please drop in to say hello or call me direct at 985-3290.

Sincerely,
______ _______, Manager

L'assassin orange

Watch out would-be thief
better back out of here
while you still can,
l'assassin orange is watching,
his razor sharp claws
at the ready.
He will flay you
at the drop of a dime;
just try picking up that iPod scoundrel
it will be your very last move.
L'assassin orange seems demure
but make no mistake
he is a vicious killer,
just ask any mouse
whose had the nerve
to seek shelter within his domain.
Yes my friend it is better
you try your luck next door
for surely l'assassin orange
will make minced meat of you.

Thank You Mr. Brooker

KEL BROOKER was the kind of teacher you remember, the kind you carry with you through life, even though you only knew them for one short school year. He was a life changer, the kind of person that could really enhance the way you looked at and appreciated something. He helped me appreciate my own talents. He was an invoker of my hidden genius. (And the article in the paper today about him says a lot of the same things, so I'm not just making this up.)

Kel Brooker was my Grade 11 English teacher, he died on Thursday of a heart attack, he was 52 years old. He helped inspire my faith in art and myself through literature, at a time when I was in desperate need of his keen guidance. Thank you Mr. Brooker, goodbye.

(2010 update: I am now in an Education program and although it's been more than 20 years since I had the pleasure of being in Mr. Brooker's class I still think about him and hope to become the kind of teacher he was.)

Corespondences with my bank manager

This is my original letter:

Dear Mr. ______,

This letter is in regards to some difficulty I had recently with a privately managed ATM, and your bank's response to my trouble. It is my hope that you will be able to rectify this problem, as I have already jumped though several hoops to no avail.

I will spare you the boring details of all the inquiries I've made so far. Sufficed to say there is certain amount of disagreement between your branch and the folks at TeleScotia over who is responsible for handling this issue on my behalf.

The issue is this: on December 23 I used (out of desperation, and much to my shame) one of those awful privately managed ATM's to make a withdrawal. I asked the machine for $80, it gave me $60. According to the person I talked to most recently at TeleScotia, because the amount I'm out by is less than $20.01 no one will launch an official "investigation" into the matter. As you can imagine, this state of affairs does not sit well with me.

What I expect from your people is nothing short of their best effort. If an investigation will not be launched then I should be refunded the $20 immediately, no questions asked, either by yourselves or, preferably, the service provider. I would also ask that the $1.50 "convenience charge" be refunded, as I have found this whole experience to be far from convenient.

Of course $21.50 is not a life and death matter for me; as you can see from my bank balance I have plenty of money in savings. What I am most concerned with is the principle of the matter. A privately owned ATM should have the same responsibilities as a major bank for mistakes it makes, irregardless of the total amount of the mistake. I hope you will look into this matter further and/or advise me as to what steps I must take to ensure justice is done.

Sincerely,
____ _______ (valued member of your branch for over 10 years.)
Ph. 783-____

This is his response:

____:
i read your email & empathize with your dilemma. as you, it is extremely
annoying when things like this happen but more so when there appears to be
little or nothing that can be done or no one seems to care. i cannot think
that any of this was done with any malice or forethought to the outcome as
more than likely it was the machine mechanics such as sticking bills not
being picked up, a skip on the bill pickup or even the machine or internal
tray running out of money and the switch over not being seamless. while
these are only anecdotal situations describing things that go wrong, it
doesn't make anything better when it happens to you. i have investigated
the transaction to the complete extent i can in that a third party atm was
requested to disperse funds of $80 to you and that's what the records show.
it does not show what was punched in & ultimately dispersed. your recourse
then, is to the atm provider. they are able to balance out the transactions
matching input to output but again, there can be variables here as well
such as was the machine correctly loaded and so on. the long and the short
is you recognized the cost of value in using these 3rd party machines and
now have had that reinforced. have we had similar situations here? yes, but
so infrequently & by this i mean 2 or 3 times in my 35 year career. have
there been more times when a customer just chalks it up to a bad experience
and does not notify us? certainly possible. what do we do when it is our
machine? for the amount here, just reimburse as good public relations. will
the 3rd party atm provider reimburse. loss - principal of the situation is
probably your determing factor. i have reimbursed you the bns transaction
fee & can only leave you with this. sometimes, & just as infrequently as
the 2 or 3 times mentioned above, the transaction goes the other way. i
have heard, anecdotally again, of one machine being loaded with $20's
instead of $10's & having a loss of $10,000 when the machine just kept
spitting out what it was programmed to do; only with $20 bills instead og
$10's. regards, _______ _________, manager

This was my response to his response:

Dear Mr. _______,

First of all, thank you for reimbursing the service charge on the
transaction I brought to your attention last week, I appreciate the
gesture. However, I was disappointed with your response in general.

The grammar of the email you sent was extremely poor and, in my
opinion, unacceptable. The tone of your letter, for the most part is
conciliatory, but the lack of care taken in editing the response makes
it seem as though you are dashing it off without real consideration or
respect.

Perhaps in the course of everyday business it is now common practice
to draft an email much the way one would conduct a conversation—I'm
not sure as I do not use email as a daily tool in my work. However, I
was taught that written correspondences, including email, are
typically treated as more formal documents, especially when responding
to an inquiry from outside.

You, and your entire organization, would do well to consider the
communications elements of your service model a little more closely.
The thrust of my letter was to:
a) determine what steps I could take to seek full reparation,
primarily as a matter of principle; and
b) point out the confusing customer service I received while perusing
this matter.
Aside from the reimbursement you offered, the jumbled response you
sent only added to my confusion and irritation.

It would have been better if you'd just said:

>Dear ____,

>I apologize for the trouble that this incident has caused you. As a
gesture of my goodwill I >have reimbursed you for the service charge,
as you requested. Unfortunately I am unable >to do anything about the
$20 you did not receive. For that you will need to contact the
>service provider directly. We will be happy to help you in any way we
can.

I'm sorry if I sound like a snob, I don't mean to be rude. However, I
do have high expectations of your institution and I feel it is my
right to speak out when I am disappointed.

Sincerely,
____ _______

JL's new hang-out spot

A Culinary Masterpiece

Catsanova

He is the greatest lover of all cats
the way he will meander up into your lap
and stick his face right in yours
kissing your lips, reaching in for your tongue
if you let him.

And then, just like that famous scamp,
he will sigh a kitten’s sigh
and roll over on his back
so that you are cradling him in your arms
and meow softly: “Love me all over.”

“Oh yes,” he’ll purr with delight,
“that’s the stuff. Now right here
under my armpits, if you don’t mind.
Ah, there is a spot I never can reach.
Thank you, I’m genuinely pleased!”

Indeed, he is very satisfied
but he is by no means a selfish lover;
he’ll groom your face with a thousand kisses,
and speak sweet nothings into your ear
then he’ll fall asleep beside you, content.

Shoki & Cyan

Here's a picture I took today. It's kind of small, but they sure are a couple of gorgeous kids, aren't they?

Another Letter to the Editors

As published in the Free Press January 6, 2006

Make a change at home

CHRISTOPHER Sunde’s Letter of the Day (Monday, Jan. 2) points the finger at politicians for driving the apathy of Canadian voters, but it is my view that our struggle to create meaningful democracy is just as heavily influenced by the whims of a spoiled society.

The scandals and back-room dealings that plague Ottawa are mirrored in the business community so many of us work and invest in. The greed, lust for power and short-sightedness displayed by politicians is not that distant from how many ordinary Canadians behave.

It is up to the public to inform themselves as to what matters and to pressure their leaders to commit to improving the nation. Instead many find distraction in materialism and infotainment, and let cynicism destroy their sense of duty. Our leaders are a direct result of our vacuous culture, and the complete lack of personal responsibility it engenders.

I suggest that people who truly want a change in Ottawa start by making a change at home. Talk politics at the supper table, make a meaningful contribution in cash or kind to a worthwhile organization. Stop blaming, complaining and drooling over plasma TVs. Make a difference. Better politicians begin with a better society, not vise versa.

RYAN KINRADE

Winnipeg

Here is the original letter:
No wonder there's apathy

In her letter (Encouraging apathy, Winnipeg Free Press, Dec. 28), Julia Wiebe laments the apparent apathy of voters during the "party-filled Christmas season" and encourages the media to be responsible for fostering interest in the democratic process.
One reason she cites for voter indifference is distrust in politicians, the same rationale Premier Gary Doer used to explain public reaction after the Gomery Commission Report. Canadians were justifiably disgusted and outraged at the corruption of the Adscam scandal, which led to a generalized feeling of low regard for people in public office, regardless to their connection to this series of events.

I believe that there are other reasons for this apathy on the part of the electorate. One is the sense of betrayal Canadians feel due to the actions of politicians. The generation that suffered and endured the calamities of the Great Depression and the Second World War created the social consensus which led to the development of the Canadian welfare state (employment insurance, pensions and universal health care).

Now very few elected officials vigorously defend medicare, "Canada's most cherished social service" or other positive social programs. Instead, the focus seems to be on pursuing a corporate agenda, including tax breaks for the wealthy and a growing inequality between the rich and poor. Canadians are aware of this betrayal and conscious abandonment of their values by those in positions of power.

A second factor is the reality that most social policy decisions are conducted behind closed doors with little opportunity by those affected to have meaningful input. The process is not transparent, hence, not democratic. In fact, this style of operating has been called "social policy by stealth" due to the lack of consultation and power sharing. People who are systematically excluded from the process tend to lose interest and become discouraged and apathetic. A third thing to consider is the apparent opportunism of politicians. A friend of mine who ran for public office several times once said (in jest) "These are my principles... And if you don't like them, I'll change them!" He was kidding.

Unfortunately, the opportunism and apparent lack of principles of people like Peter MacKay and Belinda Stronach lead the general public to be cynical about the motives of politicians. For this reason, it's difficult to believe in, trust, or respect people seeking public office. Some people have apparently concluded, "Why bother?" (to vote, to take an interest, to try to change things).

Until politicians at all levels start to change their behaviour with respect to these factors, apathy will not only continue but grow. This does not bode well for a healthy Canadian society.


CHRISTOPHER SUNDE

Winnipeg

Another Old Love Poem

Although you told me quite firmly
I am not for you
I did not believe it.
My life would be so much simpler
if it were true.
But in the moment
where we were leaning together,
on opposite sides of the bar table,
barely touching
not looking at one another
or saying anything,
in that moment I felt so
warm and electric
you must have felt it too.

I know all of your good reasons
they, along with my fear of losing
what we have,
have kept me here in Limbo
living a shadow life.
My passion is subverted,
it is in the room but unrecognized
like an invisible presence
dangling from the ceiling,
like the haunting spirit
that makes a candle flame
flicker inexplicably.

It is for your heart to decide,
no one else would object,
but you aren't ready to accept
an offer of true love.
I can't stand here
burning myself to the ground,
but neither can I look in your eyes
and not see the beauty before me,
nor can I cease to feel the desire,
utter happiness, and shear desperation
that course through me
whenever I think of you.

Drivers seem to forget they're steering a death machine

Here is my latest IMHO article, as published by the Winnipeg Free Press

A lot of people in this town -- and elsewhere I'm sure -- tend to drive as if it takes no more attention than walking down the sidewalk. In virtually every other vehicle someone is talking on the phone, putting on makeup, fiddling with the stereo and/or slugging a beverage.
If I were an apologist mouthpiece for a wireless provider or a "productivity" lobbyist, I might diplomatically label this "multitasking." But as someone who shares the road with these idiots, I'm inclined to point out that they are abusing their privilege to drive -- to a dangerously vain extreme.

I am constantly amazed that driving, which has to be the most dangerous activity we do daily as humans, is looked upon so casually. Everyone behind the wheel operates a potential death machine -- among certain age groups auto accidents are the No. 1 killer -- and yet so many of us seem to view our commute as a vacation from an otherwise hectic day.

When you are 15 or 16 you can start to learn how to drive. If you enroll in Driver Education they show you some gruesome highway accidents and try and indoctrinate you into a cautious approach. However, within a week of being behind the wheel you will undoubtedly be left with the impression that the classroom portion of your education is about as practical as the formulas they are shoving down your throat in math.

Like anyone learning a new skill, young drivers will learn more from their experience on the road than from any instructor, however well qualified. While lethal carnage can only be expressed as a probability, rudeness, impatience and displays of passive-aggressive behaviour are constants. Is it any wonder that there are three generations of Winnipeg drivers who view a yellow light as an invitation to speed? Just try being a cautious driver in this city. People honk at you for doing the speed limit, jeer at you for using a signal, and use that two-car buffer you've given yourself to jockey between the faster-moving lanes.

Sadly, there is little motivation for people to change their driving habits as they age. Whereas a teenager's rebellious nature will be naturally tamed by the cruel forces of economic reality and a desire for social acceptance, no such reformatory provocations exist on the road. It is only the distant fear of a fine or brief suspension that keeps our streets from becoming the chaotic playground of reckless motorists young and old.

The dog-eat-dog mentality of our city's roadways would not stand in other public settings. For instance, would one cut off a person using a walker to get ahead in a queue at the bank? If someone politely asked to get by in a shopping lane where your cart was in the way, would you refuse them, or start pushing just quickly enough to impede them?

You might do these things, but generally your actions would be regarded as antisocial and unacceptable.

Yet when you are anonymously concealed behind the glass and steel of your vehicle, you become somehow superhuman. Anything goes, because you are gone already, turning the corner, out of earshot, and not really responsible for your actions. The moment in history when you might have been held accountable is already a distant memory.

I have a proposal to fix this gap between action and consequence. It is a concept that does not involve more police, harsher penalties or increased taxation. It is as simple as making everyone who owns a vehicle affix a "How's my driving?" sign to their rear windshield. Each decal would carry the person's home and/or office phone number, and the offended would be free to call and comment on the offender's atrocious driving.

Sure, there would be a few abuses, but would they be any worse than the distress we suffer daily at the hands of negligent, egocentric -- and sometimes downright belligerent -- Winnipeg motorists?


Although previously employed as a sign-maker, Ryan Kinrade does not stand to profit financially or politically from this scheme.

Dirty Scrabble

Last night, after a few drinks, Ren, Josey, Damon and I had a game of dirty Scrabble. Below is a photograph of the final board.
{Disclaimer: I would caution with anyone who has a sensitivity to dirty language that this is a post you may want to skip.}

The Theory of Enough

A good old-fashioned anti-establishment rant

I am no economist, and certainly not a sociologist. I have no idea why most people in our society are so consumed with consuming. I understand that the need to have status is very important to the majority of people, and for most acquiring material wealth is the simplest way to exhibit their status. Material comfort is also fundamental to most people’s view of their own security. Wealth is a guarantee that one will not starve or lack the necessities of life.

This is likely a biological imperative, built by centuries of roaming about in search of food and shelter. But even with the dawn of agriculture, and in our time the explosion of technology to produce everything from artificial light to devices capable of communicating over vast distances, there seems to have been no cap on the degree to which people require or desire wealth. In fact, people have grown more and more consumed with the idea. Corruption is rampant in the “developed” world, and no-one can seem to get enough. It is not enough to own a motorized vehicle, it has to be Hummer. It is not enough to own a home, it needs to be at least 2,500 sq. ft. with a two car garage.

It should be plain enough to everyone that their need to consume comes at a cost. Of course there is the obvious indebtedness that buying all this stuff will place an individual in; but debt, like money itself, is an abstract concept, and not easily understood. On the other hand the destruction of the resources used and disposed of to make up our “wealth” should be fairly evident: every tree we cut, every mountain we level in search of coal seams, every inch of arable land we plant, only to have its crop rot in a silo.

It is my belief that our desire to consume so rampantly is manufactured. Knowing, as we all must, that our present consumption creates a vacuum for future generations of our own children, there needs to be a more plausible explanation for why we behave like we do. Who would knowingly destroy the future of the only world we know for an instant gratification that is not, in truth, all that gratifying?

It is our leaders who have built this desire. They are the ones who glamourize wealth and make it the dream of mankind. Every glossy magazine and Hollywood blockbuster is chock full of images designed to make people want. They are the ones who ensure the ignorance of youth, who indoctrinate them into a hollow philosophy of rampant desire for objects only available to those willing to indenture themselves for the pride of ownership.

The most powerful man in the world is quite unashamed of his own ignorance, of the influence peddling that effects his every decision. He is bought and paid for, and couldn’t be prouder. The cabal that owns this most powerful puppet is a group who does not care for the future of earth, because they do not believe in it. It is the interest of the here and now that occupy them exclusively. It is how they appear to the world at large that dictates their actions. Obviously, they are flattered by the notion that they will effect history, but whether for the better or worse is irrelevant. As the famous P.R. saying goes: “Just make sure they spell my name right.”

I don’t care for the powers that be. I work on behalf of the democratic system, it is true, but always with a mind as to how it can be improved. To me there is nothing more important than learning how put the lives of all people ahead of all else. Economics is broken because it does not consider the human element, politics is broken because it only appeals to those who would use it to further their own agenda, which in most cases means the advancement of business interests over human life.

The industrial age was a useful and necessary era in human evolution, but the time has come to bury it, and the magnates it created. The world belongs to everyone: not the rich, not the strong, not the smart, but everyone. Those who were given gifts of brilliance and fortune need to place themselves before the unfortunate, need to walk in the streets of New Orleans and Bande Ache. To put your children in a gated community and send them to exclusive schools is the greatest disservice you can do to. Let them see the poor and the unwanted, let them know that their wealth and power comes at a cost. Teach them that they have enough, and that to want more is foolish, unnecessary and immoral.

Today You Came Into My Room

Here's another old entry. This one's a love poem. I won't say from when and where, because that is irrelevant, and revealing more than I want to. But it is one of many about the same subject, and I just feel like publishing it.

(August 1,199?)

Today you came into my room
and layed down on my bed
you let me stroke your hair
and play soft music
only it was not a dream.
We talked, but it was not
what we were saying
my heart was beating so fast
I can barely remember anything
but extreme satisfaction
and when you asked:
"are you ever satisfied?"
I wanted to laugh
and when you looked long
into my eyes
I wanted to kiss you.

Notes from Minaki

Since I have nothing new to say today I've decided to delve into the archives. The following writings come from a little red book I own. I'm not sure which Minaki trip they represent (i.e. what the exact year is) but it might be '93 since that is the next entries in the book deal with my trip to Europe in that year.

(I) July 2

There's an empty bottle of JD before me
And a thousand beer cans aft.
But it's not the drinking
Or the food, or anything tangable
It's the feeling
It's the feeling
Everything else only enhances
What already exists
It's the love, the freedom
the danger, the anger
It's solitary confinment
It's the 3 Stoned Guys
Beyond home
The stress is forgotten
Money is for joy, not for hoarding
There is dancing & singing
there is deep thoughts
& there is light too.
Life & death & beauty & nature & civilization
& love

(II)

Onto the dock there is reality
We are swimming to celebrate
But suddenly fear grabs us by the ankle
And pulls us down
But we beat it
And it only makes me feel more alive
There is shadows in the room
First I ignore them
then they make me scared
I try to sing them away
But they don't listen, they are deaf
Then I think about you
You save me
And my trip to the room is complete
Because I know why I'm here
I have conquored
My lonely fears
They no longer exist because
Even when I'm alone,
I'm no longer alone.

(III)

Paddle, drink, smoke, cook, eat, sit, talk, dance, sing, sleep, arise, smim, think, BE, love, hate, write, play, read, ride, lie, look, hear, party, enjoy, walk, FEEL, dress, undress, laugh, RELAX, forget, remember, fish…

These are a few of the things we do on our holiday at Minaki together, apart: one, or one of.

So it rains, we can live with this. The weather is not a factor (I'm just reminding myself about the rain).

—Here it comes again—

At the time it is, later it becomes a memory, and later still an experience.

Don't do anything on purpose let it flow. Struggling all week to get the shit together, and now we sit here and just foget it all, and Be, Feel, Relax.

(IV)

My gods are beyond reckoning
My gods are or have been alive
And there is not One
There are hundreds
They are human & animal
natural & scientific
artistic & thinking
Beautyful & uglyness
My gods come from history
and present future
They are inspiration and feeling
planning & reasoning
14 years ago I was a child
In a world that was only understood
through the eyes of my mother
Now my mother is gone
An the world is only understood
Through my own eyes
My own 6 senses
And my friends that help me on the path.

(V) (A map of the inside of the cabin)

This Picture Isn't in the Gallery (but it is especially good.)

To the Uninvited Dervish Who Erased My Valued Photos

stupid girl
how on earth did you manage
to erase all the pictures on my camera
you were the cursed guest
showing up a friend of a friend
of a friend

yes it is my fault
for leaving those
photos on there for so long
and in a deeper sense
who really cares
they’re just photos after all

but it is tragic that an annoying
little ditz like you,
with your gross orange mascara
and your big mouth
rid me of the photographic evidence
of my best friends and me
camping on a Mantario island in August

christmas party photo gallery

Here's a link to some super shots I took at our Christmas party on Friday. They are pretty fuzzy since I prefer not to use a flash; I refer to the style as "drunken impressionism." Enjoy.

Party Pictures

Punative Licensing Premiums

This is a letter I sent today to the Provincial Minister of Justice, whose juristiction includes the Manitoba Public Insurance Corporation (MPI).

Dear Mr. Mackintosh,

This letter is in regards to the $200 surcharge MPI plans to levy against my driver’s license following an at-fault accident I had with a company vehicle. I feel that this punitive fee is highly unfair, given the circumstances of my case, and is, in general, a very inappropriate way for the Public Insurer to collect revenue.

According to the MPI website:

Drivers who have had one at-fault accident and don’t hold a current and valid Manitoba (vehicle) registration, receive a $200 premium surcharge on their driver’s license. These drivers have a higher risk of causing other accidents.

I have had my driver’s license for 11+ years, in that time I have been involved in one accident. It occurred in my first year of holding a license (1994) when I lost the power to the brakes on my car and panicked. Since then I have driven vehicles large and small, commercially and privately, without incident. In those ten subsequent years I have received a total of two speeding tickets and two parking violations. I do not believe, given my driving record, that I am any greater risk for causing accidents than anyone on the road. I resent and reject the implication from the Public Insurer that this would be the case.

The circumstances of my particular case are as follows. I approached the driveway of the group home where I work, at a speed I felt appropriate to the driving conditions, which were somewhat slippery. Unfortunately, as I was making my turn I encountered a patch of black ice that took my wheels and guided them straight forward, over the curb, and into a bank of snow. Because of the cold conditions, and perhaps some previously unreported stresses, the front bumper cracked on impact. I was not driving irresponsibly, I did not damage anything or anyone else. My “fault” was merely to have an ordinary driving maneuver—which I have accomplished without incident thousands of times—become an accident of fate.

But in the Public Insurer’s eyes I am guilty, and deserve to be punished (to paraphrase the telephone agent who processed my initial claim). How else am I to learn, the logic goes, to drive responsibly?

MPI’s indiscriminant use of this punitive levy in my case only serves to engender my resentment for the Public Insurer and its overseers. I believe that MPI owes it to all Manitobans to be more sensitive to the facts of a case and act accordingly, especially when a good driver makes an honest claim. The Public Insurer is millions of dollars in the black right now—according to some critics, to a scandalous degree—they do not need my $200. In my opinion, they are unjustified in taking it, especially as a premium on top of my provincially granted driver’s license. It is highly inappropriate for the province and its insurance corporation to collude in this way in order to grab money they do not need or deserve.

Generally speaking, because this charge is levied regardless of the nature of the accident it encourages honest people to commit fraud in order to avoid MPI’s punitive measures. I believe this in itself is reason enough to reconsider its application. For instance, had I been aware that my honesty would cost me $200 beyond the $200 deductible I am already responsible for (not to mention the annual premiums paid by my company to insure its vehicle), it is doubtful I would have been as forthcoming as I was in this matter. Four hundred dollars represents a significant portion of my monthly income (approx. 35%), but had I, for example, claimed a hit and run I would not be stuck paying an additional "punishment" premium.

It should not be incumbent on Manitobans to lie in order to avoid a fee that in many cases is unjustifiable. If the Public Insurer is not receiving enough money to pay out claims (I’d like to see them make that argument) then let them increase premiums. Why should someone who needs to drive to keep his or her job, and who is demonstrably a good driver, but does not own a vehicle for economic and/or environmental reasons, be forced to subsidize the already over-stuffed coffers of the Public Insurer in this manner? They are punishing honest citizens like myself unfairly and it reflects very poorly upon them, and by extension, your government.

Sincerely,

Wherefore The Anger

You are a bunch of slaves
technophiles who can't stop
looking at your phones long enough
to see the spell you are under

I am burning with anger
for no particular reason at all
except that there must be very good reasons
that I am not fully aware of

After all why should your blindness
fill me with rage?
it is not really my problem
that you are misleading yourselves

If you want to chase your tails
like a bunch of kittens
while the world crumbles around you
what is it to me?

Maybe it's the Irish in me
my Papa too was a very angry man
I thank god though
that I am not drunk and violent like him

When I get pissed off
I swear like a sailor
and deny myself the pleasures of life
sometimes I write it down

What I don't do is go to the mall
and drown my sorrows
in some gadget that can scratch my ass
while playing Nina Simone

What I don't do is plan to bomb buildings
or commit some petty act of vandalism
I get no pleasure out of sharing my misery
although it is important to let it vent

Yes I am an angry person sometimes
but I hope that I will come to terms
with what it is that has upset me so
because I see myself as being better for it

Gouging the Ridership

A big kerfuffle has been brewing in Winnipeg since the city announced it would increase bus fares to $2 (up from $1.85) while eliminating reduced fares for seniors and students. One report said the city hopes to raise a mere $1.1 million by implementing these Draconian measures.

Typically the city raises transit fare by a nickel every January and, though none of the ridership is happy about it most pay the extra come-uppance. Now there is open talk of revolt. People writing in to the newspaper saying: “The hell with it, I’m gonna spend $150 on a good pair of walking shoes, and I’ll never take the bus again.” Of course this isn’t much of an option for the fine people of Ft. Richmond, or the elderly and child-rearing folks who are physically incapable of hoofing it.

The mayor and his cronies all drive cars and believe that $2 is fair market value for the bus service, after all it’s still cheaper than downtown parking. The mayor and his cronies also have full-time, good paying jobs, and can afford to be cynical about the poor, since in most cases they don’t vote anyway.

Furthermore the mayor doesn’t care a rip for greenhouse emissions, has no vision for the city, other than as a great place to do business, and tends to serve up staunchly Rightist cures for our city’s continual lack of cash flow. The pain and suffering he would commit the poor and environmentally conscious to in order to raise $1 million a year is an astonishing example.

I have a better idea. This summer’s explosion of gas prices proved how committed people are to keeping their cars on the road, no matter the cost. Talk about a captive audience! Now that prices are stable again why not slap on a surtax of say $.15 every time someone puts gas in their car. Sure, they’ll hate you for it, but they’ll pay. And as the GST has proven, no matter how unpopular a tax is, once it’s instituted no future politician will ever think of it as anything other than fair and necessary. Talk about a legacy Sam.

Internet people tend to be more intellegent?

This is a comment I sent to the webmasters of http://similarminds.com after participating in one of their IQ tests tonight.

Your test results page includes this sentence:

"The internet population tends to be more intelligent so your percentile might be higher if the test taking sample was perfectly random."

That's a pretty general claim, and I don't know if it's totally true. There are a lot of people of average intellegence who take these kinds of tests on the Internet all the time. People killing time at work is probably your main audience. On the other hand, there are undoubtedly millions of people who aren't on the Internet who possess the kind intellegence you are testing (namely Visual Pattern Fluid Intelligence). Please don't try to make me feel better with unsubstantiated claims about how I've been outdone by the Internet Intelligentsia.

Dude, I'm Sleeping!

What a weirdo you are.
Taking an upside down cat-nap
in an office chair.
Streached out as though you
were a person.

Raising a Stink

There is currently a proposal before the city to turn part of St. Boniface into a hog processing plant. The debate is primarily about the stink; but it forces me to wonder why I would continue to suppose that pigs raised and slaughtered the way they are good for me? It begs the veggie argument. When I think about all that blood and guts, all the antibiotics it's been pumped with, the miserable state of its existence.

Anyway, I continue to eat meat, knowing what I do about it, but I never sneer at a vegetarian. Some of the best people I know are vegetarians.

The whole meat thing is disgusting primarily because of how it is farmed in my opinion. I'm not against a good steak now and then. I just try not to think about the forced feedings, the crowded barn and that last and only trip the cow took: to the slaughter house. Was she marched to her doom, did she take a train or a semi, who put the bullet in her brain?

It's always "not in my backyard" when it comes to the slaughter house though, and St. B has always been the sacrificial benefactor of the meat plants. Because it is on the east side and the wind blows mostly from the west. Because the mushroom plant is already near by, and it's better to concentrate the stink. Because it is her destiny to be at the end of a very dirty bit of business.

That said, I'm all for having it even further east of the city altoghter. The wrong wind will send a wafft of that death right over the Red and into my life. Bleack hufft, pee-ew that is an awful. awful smell.

Reporting from the War Room

I cant concentrate on typing without looking, but I find that I know my way around pretty good. I can type just fine without looking. I can motor along, just looking up a tthe sky, although I;m still prone to quite a few mistakes.

I can't help but look down from time to time and cheat, it'w too hard to want to look
. I was trying to type a story I'd writen in an old workbook, but I wasn't getting the whole typing thing, I was very easily distracted. Some how it's a process of relaxation and attention. Two diffferent sides fothe brain trying to act in harmony. Actually three: the motor memory function. the right brain speller, and the left brain editor. Whatever. I really dont make that many mistakes when I'm really in the zen of it, but it takes a pretty powerful bit of attention/not attention to truly make the leap to blind proficiency.

Greater still is to tap the godhead. To be they unconscious consciousness. The conduit into whom those wonderful musical whiffs and verbal riffs infect a notion to boogie.

But I'm cheeting by lookingt again, and so all my ideas are evaporating. What do I see staring at the yellow-orange wall with the nail hole righ ahead? And type just for the sake of typing until something travels through me. Like an amp turned on waing for a chord to be struck, or a seed waiting for a rop of rain. Listening to such beautiful misery courtesy of Cobain, talking about Heroneomus Bosch and how he painted such fantastical, dark dream-realities. And his patron, who bought all of his mad, mad shit and kept it carefully for centuries, that we may know the condition of a man's inner-vision ages after he is gone.

Fridge Poem