Inside the Compound

This is an entry from my Travel Log 2001: The Official Diary of My European Vacation

Albergue Richard Schirrman
September 29, 2001

This place is like a prison. There are bars on the window, and one must buzz at the gate to get in. It is located in a gigantic park which once was the royal hunting grounds. Up the street from the entrance is where the hookers pedal their trade. Apparently prostitution is sanctioned inside the park, and there are condoms everywhere. I have spent almost my entire time here in Madrid utterly lost. Last night when I arrived I missed the turn from the Metro station and ended up walking the long way around the park. It was a fucker of a hike with all the weight on my back. Finally I arrived, tired and hungry, and just sat down to eat the remnants of food that were still in my pack when a girl asked me for a light. I ended up talking to this Finnish beauty for the rest of the night, forgetting about the food and how tired I was, etc. Finally Lisao(?) asked what time it was, and I said, “Holy fuck, it’s 2:00.” Good night darling. After struggling with the lock for about 10 minutes my Italian roommate finally opened the door for me, and I slept hard and had many dreams.

The next day (today) I got up in time for breakfast (barely) and had a nice hot shower which was only marred when I jammed my thumb when I got in and slipped. Refreshed I paid for another night, after having fought through the German school group at reception, and headed out the gate. Of course I had no idea where I was going because I came in the wrong way the night before. I made another circuitous route around the park, getting propositioned by one of the 10 AM hookers, who must be on some sort of 24 hour rotating shift, before finding Metro “Lago” and heading for “Sol” the centre of Spain. It is from Sol that all highways are measured in Spain, apparently there is some marker in the square where the 0 km is, but I didn’t find it. Instead I got lost trying to follow the Lonely Planet walking tour of Madrid. Even with 3 maps of the city at hand I managed to get thoroughly lost until around 2:00 when I found the museum I was looking for. This museum houses Picasso’s famous “Guernica” and an impressive collection of modern art (primarily Spanish) with an especially extensive section of Miro. So I did the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, highlight of my day before going off in search of the soccer stadium where later tonight Real Madrid is playing. I walked through many empty streets (Spain being absolute deadsville-ish at 4:30) before finding a Metro station. When I finally got to the stadium (a 15 minute walk from the Metro) it was entirely closed with no sign of life except the dozens of tour busses parked outside. Absolutely worn out I got on a bus (which apparently uses a different ticket from the 10 pass Metro ticket I bought) and the bus driver told me something I didn’t understand (story of my life in Madrid). So finally I made it back here to the compound (having found the right way at last) and am now sitting in the courtyard listening to the screams of the roller coaster on one side (there’s an amusement park here for those not old enough or male enough to enjoy the hookers) and the sound of the Metro train on the other. Will I brave my way back to the stadium later in search of a ticket for tonight’s game? Ask my aching feet.

RE: San Sebastian

I traveled with my ami from Montréal, Françios, who I met in Bordeaux, and again in Anglet, to San S. we met Andrew (an Ausie) on the train and got a room at Pension Boulevard for the first night. We totally blew our budgets on beer and tapas etc. Next day F. and I checked into the hostel and spent the day on the beach, enjoying the beautiful weather, a great view, and some very nice Spanish babes (many of whom were topless). Next day we went to the Guggenheim Bilbao and saw an exhibit about a revolutionary media/video/performance artist whose name I forget. That night we went out with Gary (another Ausie) to “Tas, Tas” a bar in St. S. and enjoyed some of the night life. Next day was cold and shitty, and it was time to get out. Busses for Barcelona had gone so I ended up in Madrid lost and tired.

The Zeparzanians Take No Chances

The Zeparzanians from Tölaris 9 send greetings. We are the Törlogs, their slave race. We have been sent in search of “intelligent” life. So far you are our tenth discovery, although in truth “intelligent” is a stretch for you. We left Tölaris 9 a million years ago (by your standards) and will carry on our mission until we reach the end of the universe.

When we need new ships and more bodies to serve on them we colonize. We have stolen many useful tricks of prosperous existence from the other intelligent life forms (ILF’s) we’ve encountered. You haven’t been of much use to us, but you have some good drugs, and we like your handwriting; especially the Arabic stuff.

Ultimately though we don’t really have time for you. You are small fry, a bunch of little dinks, lightweights outside the scope of our ILF studies. Once we have catalogued your accomplishments, such as they are, and stocked our holds with a representative sample of your “evolved” species (among other wonders of your planet) we will torch your atmosphere and take our leave.

The Incredible Spider-like Things No One Has Ever Seen

The big joke among us is that you don’t even know we exist. We have watched you evolve from nothing, noted every development in every culture and still managed to keep our movements invisible from you. We conduct random experiments on you daily, but you remain completely unaware.

Lately I’ve been stealing duct tape from my current resident, just to fuck him up. He’s bought about four rolls since he moved in last September—all gone. I’ve brought one out once in a while (when he doesn’t need it, naturally) then he thinks he has some. But it always goes back into hiding before he wants it.

Actually, the whole block is collecting duct tape. We are betting on one another’s men as to who will buy the most rolls. The bounty is a little runt of a cat who broke our ancient compact: sworn secrecy for the price of life. A cat is a delicacy with us, since so few are suicidal; we really enjoy hearing them whimper while we suck them dry, but we are generally to lazy to stalk the underfed strays. This particular cat was no kitten, and it was certainly no mistake. The little bastard lead his man to a giiaraiig in the midst of reading the Findings page of Harper’s Magazine.

Typically a giiaraiig would just go ahead and feast on the cat himself, but yoiiroy was already quite full from the human—an impressive 370 pound man. I still don’t know how or why he was so eager to gorge himself on such a massive being, especially when a suicide would have been so easy to fake: I mean 370 lbs., what’s there to live for?

Actually, I know the real reason is because he wanted to offer up the cat for a big collection of duct tape, and because he has a taste for human blood. Come to think of it, I’m not sure he didn’t make up the whole story about being interrupted over Harper’s, sounds a little to convenient to me.

In any case, the duct tape is for an art project/experiment yoiiroy has concocted. He intends to build a giant giiaraiig out of the tape and erect atop Garbage Hill, the highest peak in the city. No one will know what it is or who put it there, but god will you wonder. It will be the greatest piece of Mystery Art this city has ever seen!

Of course there is resistance among the older establishment, some of whom know this plan. No one’s too worried though—you’ll never figure it out. We will inside laugh like nitrous-oxide huffing hyenas, as you puzzle over this one. I can’t wait to see the look on Barb Stewarts face as she introduces it on CKY News. Hopeless humans, how we love toying with you, even though our mission is to collect data as empirically as possible. Sometimes a gag is irresistible.

No more IMHO?

It seems that The Winnipeg Free Press is no longer publishing the IMHO column I used to write for occasionally. Here's an article I sumbitted last week, hoping that they would still be open to running it. (I haven't heard back officially from the editor, but I'm assuming they've stopped them, because I haven't seen any for a month or more.)

Recently, after having a couple of pints at my local pub I decided that I’d had enough booze, and wanted to switch to water. The pub keeps a jug at the side of the bar, typically stocked with plastic cups for customers to help themselves. On that particular night there were no cups next to the jug, but I noticed a few in behind, along the far wall. Given the pre-established self-serve philosophy, I thought I would just reach over and grab a cup.

Huge mistake.

Next thing I know the bartender is laying into me, telling me that I’d breached some unspoken frontier that cannot be over-stepped by any customer who wishes to leave the pub with all his limbs. “I’ve seen people have the s--- kicked out of them for less,” he warned me.

I thought his defensiveness was unwarranted—and I certainly didn’t appreciate being threatened over such a minor infringement—especially since I wasn’t aware that I had just crossed over onto holy ground. But it just goes to show how snarky even the nicest people can become when you innocently tip-toe across their boundaries.

This same pub has two single washrooms on the main floor. One is labeled “Men” the other “Women.” I’ve always questioned the wisdom of having separate loos for men and women, but especially when the toilet is a single. Does it matter if the person who used the john before you was of a different gender? Personally I don’t believe it does, and so I feel free to use either washroom at will.

I’m not the only liberated patron at this particular establishment, but I’ll often get a W.T.F. look from a girl who’s been waiting patiently for the door to open. I always hope that she’ll think about it for a second and realize the validity of my action, but I’m never sure. She’s probably just as likely to think I’m an ignorant slob, or someone with a bladder problem. Ç’est la vie. In my defense, I can assure all the suspicious ladies out there that I do lift and then replace the seat.

There are a lot of equally strange North American customs that anyone who’s been further afield may start to question. The open liquor laws come to mind. One night, before going to this same local pub—where men like me pee in the ladies room, and bartenders threaten bodily harm for stepping over invisible lines—my friend and I were “warming up” with a couple of drinks at his place. I was half way through a beer when his wife insisted we take the dog out for a poop.

Was I going to leave my half finished brew to warm up on the counter, or ignore the statute and continue to responsibly enjoy the beverage a hard week of work had afforded me? Weighing my options I decided that it was worth the risk to pull a Julian and roam the park, albeit not a trailer park, with drink in hand.

Oddly this was not the liberating experience I’d hoped it would be. Instead I felt like a criminal, like what I was doing was somehow wrong. I wasn’t aware that I had gotten so old and priggish—it was a bit of a wake-up call really. It’s not like I was Jim Lahey, a stumbling, drunken, public embarrassment to myself. I was just having a beer. And yet I felt the sting of public scorn.

Friends who have come back from Vegas or Greece always comment about how you can walk down any street with a Heineken in hand, as if this were the greatest benefit bestowed upon man. And I have to wonder why we are so prudish and puritanical. Where’s the wisdom in disallowing people the right to publicly consume products so widely and legally available?

In the end I’m all for questioning absurd boundaries, and breaking down worn out conventions. If I have to step on a few toes and risk a limb or two, so be it. How else does one discover what society’s assumptions are based on? How else does one come to understand our laws and limitations, and the rationale that supports them?

Despite his curiosity Ryan Kinrade has no plans to challenge the custom of separate Men’s and Women’s change rooms at the beach or elsewhere.

Another Old, Untitled Love Poem

I don't know why I feel the need to consistantly post these old journal entries, but I think some of them are worthy of publication. Maybe it's because I have reams of pages about love and life that I never showed anyone. I was so repressed for so long. If I'd had a bit more confidence I might of submitted some of this stuff, or—god only knows—have had the guts to tell some of these girls I liked them out loud. Maybe it's just because I have nothing new to post and it's been a few days since I've updated. For whatever reason, I'm telling you now. Feel free to skip the rest if you're not romantically inclined.

When we touch I feel nothing but you
it can be light as a feather
and still there is electricity.

It burns me deep down inside when I wonder
if you feel what I do
if our lips could meet one of these days.

Patience is my game
waiting for the most beautiful girl I know
to be ready for the gifts I offer.

Knowing always it could come
before or after my time
so hoping it is now.

There is a fire burning between us
two hearts have found one another
in such a strange place.

We have never spoken a word about this
but it is comfortably understood
as it is between man & woman.

I will answer all of your demands
and worship your femininity forever
if you make me yours.

Time with you is immeasurable
I spend a thousand eternities
when I look in your eyes.

Gone Fishin'

Damon "Dink Toucher" Mitch reels in a dinky Jack.

On the weekend some buddies (D.Mitch, Dr. Steve, Mike, Ross) and I went fishing around Pointe du Bois {It's located on the Winnipeg River 160 km Northeast of Winnipeg next to the Whiteshell Provincial Forest. The town was originally founded to support the Pointe du Bois (hydro electric) Generating Station, completed in 1926}. There was too much food and beer to get real serious about the fishing, which is kind of too bad because I would have been happy to eat some walleye. But plenty of little Jacks (aka dinks) along with a few Bass (which can't be kept due to conservation restrictions) were caught and released, and a good time was had by all.

Everyone was Shotgunnin'.

In Defense of Cyclists

Monday must be letter writing day. Here's a letter based on an article in Saturday's Free Press. I won't reproduce the entire article (you can read it by following this link if you have a subscription,) but I'll give a taste of what was, in my opinion, the most objectionable paragraph, along with my letter.

Dallas Hansen wrote:

Bicycle activists are prone to a certain moral elitism, a holier-than-thou attitude that prompts them to look with disdain upon those who fail to make the sacrifice of living by the bike. But bicycles -- regardless of their benefits to human health and the environment -- will never be embraced as a primary mode of transportation by any more than a small percentage of the commuting population: 2.5 per cent for the inner city, and 1.5 per cent for the entire city, according to the 2001 census. Beyond the limitations of winter riding, there are the issues of helmet hair, chain oil on one's trousers, body odour and limited carrying capacity -- all of which will continue to keep the bicyclist among a small minority.

I replied:

I will not argue Dallas Hansen'’s weekly cry for better public transit, but I do object to his recent opinion, that cycling is, and always will be, a fringe activity ("Bikes aren't answer to reduced gridlock," June 3). I don'’t understand why an educated and well spoken columnist like Mr. Hansen would call down a significant subculture of equally educated and forward thinking people based on the stagy demonstrations of few "“holier-than-thou"” activists--a moniker that often describes him as well as anyone.

Blind as he is to his own agenda Mr. Hansen uses census data to assert only a small percentage of Winnipegers are ever likely to choose cycling as a form of commuting. But attitudes and economics, like census data, change with time. Concerns about helmet hair and chain grease on pant legs aside, cycling can be made a safe, acceptable and economical alternative for a larger portion of citizens through increased education and infrastructure. However the road is made more difficult when would-be opinion makers dismissively label the cycling population as a small minority of elitist revolutionaries.

I was a rock in the zoo

This is an old love poem from autumn 2006 recorded in my Volume #6 book (an otherwise untitled journal that features a blurry abstract oil painting on the cover.)

I was a rock in the zoo
carefully placed in the lions' cage
so I could count the hours
of endless boredom
between feedings.
They had me convinced
that there was nothing more to life
than pacing and waiting
for grain fed red meat,
that the jungle nature of love
was an unnecessary primal stirring.
Then one day you unlocked the cage
and lifted me out into the sunlight;
you kissed me gently breaking the spell
turning me into the would-be prince
you know today.
But then you left me
alone in a different world
where my ice-cold logic does not apply,
you gave me the keys
but did not show me the way.
Inside the lions did not miss me,
one less rock to piss on,
yet I missed the comfort of their complacency
and their easy acceptance
of nothingness.
Here there is distant hope
but little to fill the long hours
of the meantime—
instead I dream of what was
like captive lions who in their sleep
chase gazelles across the savannah.

Free Patriotic Hockey Desktop GO Oilers GO

This is a little design I cooked up this morning for kicks. I originally posted it on the ALfA Blog, a fine blog full of thoughts and creation from interesting earthlings. (p.s. I'm not quite sure why the right "O" is cut off in the picture, but I've decided to live with it.)

Letter to the Editor and Rebuttal

This is a letter published in today's Free Press and my response.

Divide up city sidewalks

I read and hear so much about cyclists complaining about motorists driving too close to them and trying to crowd them. I am a motorist and a former cyclist. I was taught to ride my bicycle on the road, not the sidewalk, as well as to ride single file.

One way of solving the sidewalk problem is by painting a yellow line down the centre of the sidewalk and identifying one side for walkers and the other side for cyclists. Then maybe we might have harmony and the bleeding hearts who ride bicycles can ride in their own lane. Maybe cyclists should have to carry insurance just like car drivers.

Sam Scaletta, Winnipeg

Divide up city roadways

Letter writer Sam Scaletta suggests a solution to the problem of bicycles on the street is to paint a stripe on the sidewalk and allow cyclists access (“Divide up city sidewalks,” May 29, 2006). This idea is absurd. First of all sidewalks aren’t wide enough for bikes and pedestrians to coexist as it is. Secondly, sidewalk riding is far more dangerous for cyclists than riding on the streets—a bike is less visible to motorists on sidewalks, and bad curbs can lead to disastrous wipe-outs.

I do agree though that cyclists deserve our own lane. Maybe we should paint a yellow line down the centre every curb side lane. That way when intolerant drivers approach cyclists a regulated buffer will protect us from their impatience and carelessness. A healthier, more harmonious traffic experience would be the result for bleeding heart cyclists and heartless motorists alike.

A Response from the President

The saga of MPI continues with this bit of correspondence I received last week from the CEO & President Marilyn McLaren. I have also included my response (as yet unmailed) to her lengthy, politically correct message.

Dear Ryan Kinrade,

Thank you for your recent enquiry about the application of driver’s licence accident surcharges. I’m pleased to clarify your concerns.

At the outset, please understand that Manitoba Public Insurance is a not-for-profit organization, and collects only enough premiums to pay for claims costs and operating expenses. The surplus rebate you referred to you your recent email message resulted from stronger than expected investment income, lower claims costs, and profits in the corporation’s competitive line of business. As a result, the corporation was able to refund approximately $58 million to ratepayers, the second such rebate in five years. For policyholders, the rebate represents 10 per cent of the basic premium they paid in the 2004-2005 insurance year.

As to collision responsibility, the corporation considers all the available information about a loss prior to assessing fault. This includes driver and witness statements, police reports, vehicle damage, prior court decisions, and legislation set out in The Highway Traffic Act (HTA). Section 153(1) of the HTA indicates that drivers are responsible for the loss or damage they cause due to the operation of motor vehicles upon highways.

Drivers who cause a collision are more likely to cause another one. To reflect this increased risk, we assess premium surcharges on Manitoba drivers’ licences and/or loss of vehicle insurance premium discounts for at-fault collisions. An at-fault collision is one for which the driver is held 50 per cent or more responsible. Manitobans have consistently told MPI they want drivers who cause collisions to contribute more to the insurance fund than those who don’t. Rewarding good drivers and surcharging those who cause collisions helps to insure this happens.

Drivers who have had one at-fault collision and own and insure at least one vehicle lose their insurance discount, or, if they have at least 6 years of claims-free driving, pay a premium surcharge on their driver’s license, while retaining their insurance discount.

Drivers who don’t own and insure vehicles may still cost the insurance fund by causing collisions. These drivers are at greater risk of causing another collision, but because they pay no vehicle premiums, the increased risk can only be assessed as a premium surcharge on their driver’s licence. It would be unfair to expect Autopac policy holders to fund the entire cost of these collisions.

You expressed a concern about the corporation treating non-vehicle owners unfairly by not allowing them to use merit points to offset financial penalties. To clarify, driver licence merit points benefit both vehicle owners and non-vehicle owners. Each merit point a driver earns reduces the cost of a driver’s licence by $5. As well, merits can be applied toward reducing demerit points assessed for driving infractions at a rate of two to one. Neither vehicle owners nor non-vehicle owners can apply merit points toward the payment of surcharges assessed due to collision responsibility.

Mr. Kinrade, I understand you successfully appealed your surcharge to the Rates Appeal Board (RAB). While the RAB has authority to alter surcharges, its decisions have no bearing on collision responsibility.

I appreciate you taking the time to express your concerns. It’s through communication from Manitobans like you that MPI can continue to improve its products and services.

Yours truly,
Marilyn McLaren
President and Chief Executive Officer

cc: Gord Mackintosh
Office of the Provincial Ombudsman

Mr. Kinrade responds:

Dear Ms. McLaren,

Thank you for your response to my e-mail. I can tell by the tone of your letter that you do not consider my challenge to your policy to be very significant or worthy. Despite the length of the letter it is awash with your corporation’s pseudo-political mumbo-jumbo and the same tired justifications offered in other publicly available literature. I am not at all surprised by this, though I admit I’m a tad disappointed.

Your letter also leads me to believe that any further correspondence will be in vain, but I feel the need to respond to the inaccuracies laid out in your letter.

It is your opinion that your system is fair and represents the best interests of Manitobans, that a premium placed on top of a licence is a reasonable way to guard against the increased risk posed by drivers who have had an accident. Your assertion that drivers who have one accident are more likely to cause another, despite any statistical data you present, is a condemnation against all Manitobans who consistently maintain good driving records. It is highly unfair, and unreasonable to assume imminent guilt based on past actions, most especially in the case of a single incident over a number of years. The justice system gives a first-time offender a chance to rehabilitate, you accuse him of future crimes and assess a penalty towards that end.

You insist that it is unfair to make policy holders pay for the mistakes of others, that an additional premium insures that the perpetrator pays for the crime. It was my understanding that insurance, especially of the public variety, was designed to protect people from accidents, not to act as some kind of judge and jury against innocent citizens who are driving fully insured vehicles. What is the point of paying insurance premiums on a vehicle if they are not meant to fully cover damage incurred in an accident?

Finally, you insist that your merit system is equally fair because no-one may use it to offset the financial penalties. My point was that a vehicle owner has no incentive to cash in his merits because they represent a discount on his insurance; a non-vehicle owner on the other hand can only be the beneficiary of a paltry $5 per point discount on his annual licence premium. In other words, the non-vehicle owner is punished more severely for the same accident as the vehicle owner. For his $200 fine the vehicle owner, with 6 years plus of claims-free driving, gets to keep the merit points and discount; the non-owner, with a similar driving record, pays $200 to retain an almost useless set of merits.

It is obvious that your corporation feels it is answerable to its policy holders more so than leeches like myself who do not own vehicles and yet insist on driving. However because you make every driver pay a basic premium on our provincially granted licence you are responsible for leeches like myself as much as you are to those who own multiple vehicles. My rights are equal to the wealthiest car collector in Manitoba, and no amount of majority opinion about what Manitoban’s consider to be fair can ever trump that reality. If you were a private institution you would be perfectly justified in rescinding my licence and telling me to take my business elsewhere. But as the leader of a Crown corporation you must respect the democratic values our government represents, and seek to treat all “ratepayers” in a manner that approaches equality.

As I have pointed out, your policy concerning additional premiums for first accidents is in fact inherently unfair and undemocratic. It is a shame that you make innocent citizens go before a board to protest their innocence. Instead you should be the ones to take your case before a panel if you feel further damages are warranted. There is nothing in your letter that indicates why it should be incumbent on citizens to fight your policies, rather than have you defend them, and I remain dissatisfied with your justifications.

Anyone Wanna Borrow a Cat?

Merlin pretty much thinks he owns the place by now. He’s put his nose in every nook, and he’s slept in everyone’s bed. He is very vocal about his needs, and will not pass an open lap. With Joanna away he’s not overly picky about who gives him attention. Armando, once a timid scamperer, is emboldened too. She would never have approached before, let alone with such a “love me” look and cry.

Oh, these are love cats alright, no doubt about it. Merlin is quite a dirty, deep-flesh digger, but he likes it rough in return. Give him a good friendly spank and you’ll get this orgasmic kitty meowrrrrrrrl…. Mondo also likes a bit o’bump on the rump. She’ll roll over and start crawling away across the carpet with her claws, loving it. She’s getting to be a saucy little wench.

The Theory of Enough, Part III

Recently a former professor of mine wrote to the Free Press to reiterate his long held view that Global Warming was not happening, or at least there was no evidence of it. Later the paper published a strong rebuke co-written by professors representing Manitoba’s three major universities. All this made me realize that as much faith as we place in science, it is still, above all, faith.

Science has answered many questions since it left the realm of hocus-pocus alchemy and entered the Age of Reason. But in the end there are no absolutes, and the fact that something like Global Warming can, on the one hand be strongly argued as fact, and on the other hand, easily dismissed, leads me to the idea that there must be another reason to stop polluting the atmosphere.

The Kyoto Accords goals, to the average, under-informed citizen like myself seem pretty damn reasonable. The main target is to reduce “Green-house Emissions” to pre-1990 levels. Canada says it is unable to do this without serious economic backlash; the United States was never even interested in attempting such a policy. It is because we are consumed with consuming and obsessed with the continued growth of our domestic economies.

Canada’s population is on the decline, and it seems reasonable to assume that our need for wealth should be similarly scaled back. Why do we need more? Aside from the prestige that membership in the G7 brings, what are the long term benefits of scouring our environment and paying people poverty-level wages to ensure that our nation remains “competitive” on the global stage?

Obviously I am no economist, and I was never really all that clear on why competitiveness is such a cornerstone of our civilization. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy a good hockey game, or even the occasional boxing match, but I’m seriously at odds with the idea that our lives should be a game about who can acquire the nicest cars and the biggest manor home for their 1.2 kids. I don’t know, I think we should be more worried about the kind of world we leave for these kids. Whether our obsession with unlimited growth leaves the Earth untenably hot is almost beside the point. Consider the carcinogens our lifestyle emits daily, consider the cost of having children and old people taken care of by virtually the poorest paid segment of society—people’s who’s care-giving instincts are taken advantage of by those who had the brains and/or luck to “succeed” in our winner-take-all society.

Who made these rules, and why do we follow them so blindly? When someone makes a reasonable request for halting destructive patterns of “development” why do we instantly recoil from the difficult challenge and say, “Oh no, that will cost too much?” This country, abundant in land and some of the most enviable of resources, does not need to play the stupid game of who can afford the most breast implants per capita, or who has the biggest set of brass balls. Money is a tool, not an end. It’s time we challenge ourselves to focus on what really matters, rather than bowing to the shallow “realities” that have been foisted upon us by our unimaginative leaders.

How to Create GIF Animations

This post is in response to Dave's request that enlighten the ALFA bloggers on how to make GIF animations.

Making animated GIFs is pretty simple, if you know anything at all about animating—or even if you don’t. If you have Photoshop you can use ImageReady to make animations, there is a palette available under the Window menu (at least that’s what it’s called on the Mac.) The process is damn simple. First create your frames in Photoshop or Image Ready (by duplicating layers you can, for example, move an arm or leg while keeping the rest of the body stationary; it’s also great for tweeking the image to make sure the movement is right by turning layers on and off). Alternately you can do individual drawings and scan them in. Then organize your individual cels in the palette and set the options for playback(speed, loop, etc.)— there might even be an option to export layers to the animation palette, but don’t quote me on that.

If you don’t have Photoshop/ImageReady there are a bunch of free programs on the net that create the same magic with varying degrees of sophistication. If you have Freehand and Flash you can make vector based animations, which can be very cool; but that’s a bit more complex, and not something I’ve spent a lot of time doing. Given that you ALFA artists do a lot of contours, cartoons and line drawings Freehand/Illustrator might be a good program to learn, but obviously they will never be as expressive as actually doing illustrations freehand (I drew the Happy Crab with Illustrator). The main advantage of knowing these programs is that they allow you to create resolution-independent vector graphics which have much smaller file sizes than bitmapped images, and can be blown up or reduced to any size without any loss of quality (great if you want to do billboards, silk-screens, prints, etc.)

A quick Google search for “GIF animations” netted dozens of tutorials, etc. so there are many ways to learn more. I look forward to seeing some results! Perhaps I’ll do one or two myself.

Happy Crab

Here's a reproduction of this great pin Josey brought me back from Hawaii. I usually wear it on a vintage 49ers jersey (#16 for Joe Montana) I scored for free at the big Salvation Army on Jefferson when Andrina and I went to get some furniture for her store.

Hey, if Bowie and Jagger aren't going to Heaven, count me out.

Clearwater, Manitoba. September 2004

Today Ren and I were discussing who gets into Heaven from some Christian points of view; homosexuals were our main example. It occurred to me that this Christian Heaven isn't the kind of place I'd want to end up in. It is hopelessly counter-productive to diminish anyone's existence because their sexual orientation does not conform to some misbegotten bit of scripture. I wouldn't want to spend eternity under an ancient set of assumptions that included that clause—even if it meant roasting elsewhere.

I wondered: what's the point about worrying who gets into Heaven anyway? Heaven is a multiculturall concept with very little agreement as to the entry requirements—and even so it's very existence is far from a certainty. All you can do as a spiritual person is lead the holiest life you can, and hope for the best.

Then I opened a book I bought as a gift at McNally Robinson, and it said this:

The spiritual journey is not about heaven and finally getting into a place that's swell. In fact, that way of looking of things is what keeps us miserable. Thinking that we can find some lasting pleasure and avoid pain is what in Buddhism is called samsara, a hopeless cycle that goes round and round endlessly, and causes us to suffer greatly. The very first noble truth of the Buddha points out that suffering is inevitable for human beings as long as we believe things last—that they don't disintegrate, that they can be counted on to satisfy our hunger for security. When Things Fall Apart

In my view the whole dismissal of homosexuality (among many other equally unjustifiable distinctions) by certain religions is based on the fear of what is different, and a need to define one's community, and by extension one's self, by labeling who are the "others." A true spiritual quest is not about swallowing baseless, barrier-raising assumptions, but rather questioning the reasons for our difference and embracing them.

The Three A.M. Caller

Ever since we got our new phone number in September we have received multiple calls every second morning. They start about at 3:00 am (CDST) and keep coming for 20 or 30 minutes.

At first we were determined to do something about it. Ren *69ed early on and got a response from someone who said he knew nothing; it seemed to be just an ordinary residential number. I personally have no reason to think that anyone is insane enough to call so regularly for such a long time. Additionally there is an eerie silence when you pick up the line, unlike anything you'd hear on a live end.

According to MTS (the friendly, do-it-yourself phone company), in order to end this torture we need to collect the calls using a code I now forget—star-something-something. As harassed customers we are required to log four to six annoying calls, with date and time, and report them to our nearest community police office. Aside from being completely inconvenient, it seemed to me that the phone company could have just as easily taken my word and blocked the number.

Anyhow, bureaucracy will be what it will be. Many people prefer a layer of rules and procedures over simple cures—human nature I suppose. I'm not one of them; but, being a good sport, I was willing to play the game to a point. Ren collected a useable set of logged calls, and it was my job to bring 'em in. But I somehow managed to lose the list. Then she and I collaborated on another log, and I lost that one too. After that we all just started to accept the 3 o'clock phone call from nowhere as a part of life.

I really enjoy getting the call if it comes when I get home from a night of ripping it up. I imagine that it's the future calling, and they want to know what it was like to be me and drunk at three in the morning. Maybe I've become some sort of cult figure to them, or maybe it's a psychology experiment by some brilliant and sadistic high school student in 2210. In any case, the call from beyond gets an earful of me belting Stevie Wonder or Black Sabbath, or a foul-mouthed, raving commentary on a random topic. Take that future!

But truth be told, the 3 am call is still mostly a drag. We often turn off the ringer on the upstairs phone to avoid it, then forget to turn it back on and miss calls. Or, you know, it's just that time of night when you are at that certain sleep stage where you're easily woken, but still asleep—and whammo, you get an aural rock-shocker.

Whatever, I guess the occasional rude awakening is less of a problem for me than the hassle of having this ghost in the machine blocked. Apparently everyone else here is equally lazy about the situation.

Really Awful Movie

This is a short clip I made in "Advanced Television" when I was at Red River. It's juvenile and offensive, not very advanced really. Anyway, the assignment was to use a blue screen to create a conversation with yourself. I was inspired by "Young Frankenstein" which is where I got the backdrop from. I have uploaded one more corny short from Red River to show later. Unfortunately my masterpiece, a five minute opus about a high school prankster named Frank Spazano (in real life a much derided and teased kid at Beaumont Elementary), was never converted to a digital format.

The Doppleganger

Khari & Moussaoui: Brothers?

A Begging of Pardons

Sorry to everyone who has commented in the past several days, I did not realize I had the "Comment Moderator" on. I didn't even know what the "Comment Moderator" was. I am always open to comments, I love comments! It was not my intent to be some kind of censor. Here I was checking my e-mail everyday, looking for new posts, knowing I have all these new readers, going: "Those bastards, why aren't they commenting?" Turns out you were commenting. No more censorship, I swear!

More ASCL Logos

I had a request for more logos from my imaginary sports league. Sadly none of these logos has an easily recognizable subliminal meaning (like the Ohio Bullets logo). In fact these ones are pretty ho-hum, but my requestee asked about teams from Montreal and Quebec. Strangely I don't recall ever doing a team for Quebec, perhaps because I couldn't think of a good French name. My teams from Montreal provide ample evidence of my poor French skills. The team was originally called the 3-D, an expression I'm not even sure exists in French. Then I changed it to the Patriotes, another word I am unsure is a real one. Why call a team from Montreal the Patriotes? Irony, wishful thinking? I'm not sure, I think maybe it was because the Canadiens had a patriotic sort of name, and their nickname Les Hab[itant]s has a historical/patriotic context. On the other hand I'm fairly sure the logo is based on the Quebec Nordiques, which was one of my favourites. (I still have my Nordiques jersey hanging in my closet).

I'm including the L.A. Frontiersmen mostly because I've already drawn the logo. There were two teams from L.A., the other one being called the Surf. I guess the Frontiersmen came to be called that because California was the final frontier as America expanded to the west to the coast (of course this isn't totally true, because the Spanish had been in California already, but I was 10 or 11 when I came up with this stuff for god's sake). Perhaps I had the San Fransisco 49ers in mind when I came up with the idea of giving them a "historical" name.

Random Journal Entry

This page comes from Volume 7: The Inner Workings. The page after it mentions Horoscope Nov. 97, a lucky coincidence since the rest of this book is undated. The originals were written in red and blue, which is why I use them here.

Sweet new fantasy
accompanies winter’s embrace
a young wayward princess
that’s taken my place
who slept in my room
when I wasn’t there
who sat in my den
at the top of the stairs
All day she was with me
I knew not from where
I kept on remembering
the smell of her hair
At last I recalled
she had borrowed my hat
but still I’m not sure
if it was totally that

Trodding again a beaten winter routine
marijuana, cigarettes and listlessness
my body grows stiff
mind yearning yet cramped
into the 30” box of nothingness
how to forestall this hibernation
sleep and empty calories
soothing mindless distraction
ah to die inside again
after a brief bath
of sunlight
back to the cave of sorrows

Ryan: 1, MPI: nil

MPI has been bragging in the media about how they are giving motorists a rebate because they made so much extra money last year. This week I learned that I cost the beneficent corporation $200, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

If you are a follower of this blog you’ll know that I have been through all the bureaucratic bull-crap that MPI could throw at me to get a $200 levy removed from my licence. Judging by their rebate I was right in assuming that they had too much money, and did not need mine. But my point was not only to get back MY money, but to see if I could challenge their policy on behalf of all people who’s circumstances are similar to mine (although that probably amounts to less than two dozen people in the whole province.)

I am aware of the number of false claims MPI receives, but it was wrong for MPI to assume my guilt, and it was wrong for them to want to indiscriminately punish me for my accident. I am glad for the opportunity to right the wrong, and you can be certain I will be informing the Minister for MPI, the President and the Ombudsman of my findings.

Navel Gazing

Flagrant narcissist that I am I just Googled myself to see if anyone loves me as much as I do. Needless to say, I'm not Paris Hilton popular yet. I got about 1200 hits, but only a handful were about me. As usual most links were to this NASCAR photographer named Geoff Kinrade, and many more from god knows what. Interestingly, there were quite a few that seemed to relate to biking in some way. I know that the Isle of Man (where my last name comes from) hosts an annual motocross race of some reputation, but most of the links seem to be about Mountain Biking. Perhaps we Manx have a thing for cycles, motored or otherwise; that would certainly be in keeping with the three legs running (or are the peddling?) as featured on the Manx flag.

Anyway I found this letter at the link embedded in the title. Apparently some site put together by a Winnipegger with a bone to pick against urban sprawl. I didn't really read too much of it because I was too busy staring at my own reflection. Here's the letter (originally published Oct. 1, 2004):

Better bikeways
must be built

As a cyclist I disagree with the letter advocating bicycle riding on city sidewalks (Let cyclists ride on deserted sidewalks.)
Even in the absence of pedestrians, cycling on sidewalks is dangerous for both cyclists and motorists and should be avoided at all costs.
A typical cyclist on the sidewalk disregards the rules of traffic and freely crosses controlled intersections, back lanes, etc. often without slowing down. Furthermore cyclists face decreased visibility when riding on the sidewalks as drivers tend to concentrate on the road.
Increased safety for bike riders will be achieved more rapidly if cyclists arm themselves with proper gear (helmets, flashers, reflective clothing and a rear view mirror) and take to the streets.
More cyclists on the streets will raise the attention, and ire, of motorists, and eventually the reality will dawn on government that better bikeways must be built.

Generalizing is generally a bad idea

This is a correspondence I had with a reporter from the National Post regarding a terrible lead paragraph from a story in yesterday's paper.

The standoff between Iran and the West over the Islamic nation's nuclear program is mostly a diplomatic situation that means little to average citizens.

I wrote:

Dear Ms Thorpe,

You framed a recent article on surging oil prices by suggesting that the stand-off between the West and Iran means little to the average citizen, but for the rising price of oil. And yet there were several pages of coverage--including the front page lead--in that same edition of the National Post; evidence, in my mind at least, that your editors believe these events are important to ordinary citizens like myself. They were right, and you were wrong. In the future, please refrain from insulting and demeaning the intelligence of "average" people when looking for a compelling lead for your stories.

Sincerely,


Ryan Kinrade
Winnipeg

Ms Thorpe replied:

Actually, my editors were wrong that day because they completely rewrote the
original story I submitted. It doesn't happen often but when it does they
can really turn it into a doozy. As you can imagine I was not too happy.

(original below)

The global economy barely shrugged when oil prices surged 250% to more than US$60 per barrel between 2002 and 2005 but the rise beyond US$70 could be harder to absorb.

My response:

Yikes! My apologies, your lead is far more rational, if less scintillating. I hope you will inform your editors that heavily biased leads that editorialize about what the "average citizen" believes and thinks about diminish the value of the rest of the article. If a story tells me right off the top what I'm thinking, and it is dead wrong, I will believe that the writer did not do his/her homework. As a result I will not take the rest of the information presented seriously, having judged the reporter to be an opinionated know-nothing and a lazy researcher. No wonder I don't pick up your paper that often.

The Theory of Enough, Part II

Why is it that there is such a premium placed on upward mobility? On the assumption that each generation must be better off than the one before it? It seems to be a concept that we take for granted; those who fail to live up to it feel somehow cheated by life and disenfranchised. I for one will never equal my parents professional credentials or earning power, but I do not consider myself a failure. On the contrary, I see myself as having evolved. By not settling for the notion that greater wealth will make me a better person, I have discovered a more fruitful ideology: living with respect for earth and man.

When I was in University one of the most striking things I learned came from a first year Geography course. The professor told us that if we were to end world poverty the average middle-class North American would need to live on 1/7th of their current wealth. I don’t quite remember the context of this statement, nor the evidence that supported it. But I have always used it as a benchmark when assessing my society’s greed because it seemed a fair assessment, and a worthwhile challenge to me. We are far too rich, and above all, inconsiderate of the fact that our ever multiplying prosperity is dependant on the destruction of nature and the subjugation of others.

Apparently mine is not an overly popular view. Young people continue to leave this city in droves to find the affluence and excitement that Winnipeg will never provide. We are the crumbling capital of a needy province. They are taking their educated brains and skilled hands to where they can enjoy greater material happiness, even at the expense of leaving those they love behind. I wonder why so many have grown up to believe that what you have is worth more than who you are and where you come from.

The province’s politicians and business leaders are desperately trying to answer the question of how to retain our youth, especially the “knowledge workers” and the “creative class” because these groups evidently represents our future prosperity. The most logical answer to the dilemma is to alter the expectations of youth and help them come to a different understanding about what life is supposed to be for. This, however, is a near impossible task. The uninterruptible messages of celebrity and status that fuel society are filtered through the lens of a manipulated media that cannot live without advertising. Add to that implicit imperative of Financial Security, and family pressures, and you get a really difficult nut to crack.

Failing a geological and/or environmental event of catastrophic proportions, Winnipeg will never be a major metropolis. Those who seek the opulence and exhilaration of the Big City will never find it here. We are a hearty and frugal folk, practical to the core. We are artists and workers and homemakers. Our advantage is not how cheap it is to live here, but who we are as people. It is all the culture that makes up this city and it’s ethnic diversity; it’s our First Nations heritage. It is the families and friends we grew up with, the places we live and meet in. And it’s the landscape itself, the weather: sometimes violent, sometimes bitter, sometimes beautiful and other times damn buggy. It is the never ending sky.

What Winnipeg could do, if it had the will, and the guts, would be to live life on its own terms. To harmonize and adapt to nature rather than being a complacent resource wasting culture of haves and want mores. Every day there is an opportunity to help someone less fortunate, to let someone merge, to thank your god(s) for the gift of life. Winnipeg is incapable of winning the Rat Race; I for one would be eternally grateful if we could all agree to stop running in it, and spend our limited time on earth acting on things that really matter instead. Living as the first people who lived on this land did, with reverence and resolve, reflection and respect.

Pregretting

verb: Regretting something in advance of having done it.

example: Every time I go to get my hair cut I have the same feeling of pregretting. My hair always seems to look so perfect before they chop it off, and I say to myself: “I’ve just got it to the stage I wanted, I should leave it.” It’s like buyer’s remorse in reverse. But in the end I know it is time to lighten the load and take a chance on change.

etymology: [Modern English] Ryan was talking about pre-regretting his hair cut, and Josey suggested "pregretting."

Mondo Chills

Much of the time Armando is a textbook scaredy-cat. She is a blurry little black ball, scampering for cover from the slightest noise. Not today though—today Armando claimed her spot in the sun. And, as you can see, she was not shy about rolling over to give her belly some.

Sanity returns to Slurpeeville, but what about the rest of 'em?

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

IN this age of copious over-consumption the big heads at 7-Eleven have taken a bold step. They've reintroduced, in its original waxed glory, the most practical Slurpee cup, the 650-millilitre (along with a wee 355-ml "child's portion" size). This is the most positive move in mass-consumerism I've seen for ages.
For the last eight or nine years I have been forced to drink my beloved Slurpees from inferior plastic "Gulp" cups. Whereas a whole 795-ml Slurpee would make me over-caffeinated and queasy, and the yellow 454-ml Slurpee cups (waxy as they are) seldom proved to be enough of a good thing, the Gulp's 550-ml capacity was just right.

Oddly, my decision to use a Gulp cup for Slurpees created quite a stir of controversy at my old Sev. One clerk would always berate me because "rules and regulations" forbade putting one kind of beverage in another kind of cup, even though the prices were virtually the same by volume. She never did show me a book where these rules might be found, although we must have had the same argument more than 30 times.

I eventually realized that I could skirt the issue by refilling old cups. She couldn't fault me for reusing a cup I'd already paid for. (This method also saved me 36 cents a Slurpee, and eased my environmental conscience.) But, crafty old witch that she is, she found a way to scold me, this time for not waving the cup in her face and proclaiming it to be a refill the moment I walked into the store.

Thankfully, 7-Eleven's new cups have spared me any further grief. More importantly, though, they've fired a shot over the bow at Gargantuanization. Gargantuanization, marketed as "Super Sizing" by one notorious chain of pudge peddlers, is the seemingly inevitable drift from sensible servings to preposterous portions. It's a marketing tactic meant to instil a sense of value in the consumer -- the "more for less" principle that Winnipeggers understand so intimately. Unfortunately, the side-effect of this popular ploy is a fatter population chowing down on more and more fattening crap.

That is why I consider 7-Eleven's concession to common sense, its realization that more practical cup sizes are appropriate, such a monumental leap forward. The Southland Corp., 7-Eleven's parent company, is a junk-food-industry superpower. It was a major aggressor in the initial Gargantuanization buildup of the 1980s, introducing the huge -- and hugely popular -- Big Gulp. By today's standard a Big Gulp seems modest enough, but in those innocent times it was considered indecent and scandalous by many to drink that much soda in one sitting. Effective advertising soon took care of those outdated notions -- so much so that within a few years 7-Eleven had to offer the even more outrageous Super Big Gulp to stay ahead of its competition.

Sadly, the humongous-soda craze proved to be a like a gateway drug: theatres began offering pails of popcorn bathed in "golden topping" for another 50 cents, and by the '90s you could double your fries at McDonald's for a dime. Hopefully, Southland's conciliatory move toward serving-size sanity can help curtail the madness they so successfully fostered.

As with all previous trends in mass marketing, when the giant farts, everyone else needs to get in line, or get blown over. I've even heard that Wal-Mart is introducing organic products. No word on when they'll be dumping the family-of-40-sized bags of Cheetos, but any accommodation to healthy alternatives must be viewed as progress.

In the end, consumer insouciance is as much to blame for the rise of gross over-consumption as brilliantly pathological marketing. No one gets off on just enough of something -- we've all been successfully programmed to expect better things in bigger packages. Which is fortunate, because Gargantuanization is rapidly turning us into a nation of walruses.


Despite the reintroduction of the 650-ml wax cup, Ryan Kinrade will continue to use the his fine collection of re-usable SpongeBob SquarePants Slurpee cups whenever possible.

Final Argument

Here is the final draft of the letter I read to the "Rates Appeal Board" this evening. This is part of my on-going saga with MPI, and the extra fee they tacked onto my licence for sliding into a snow bank on an icy day. I took it like a professional assignment (it is worth a potential $235 dollars.) I wore my hair back in a ponytail, face clean shaven. I had on a blue dress shirt, undone at the collar and my favourite tweed sport coat, with the awesome "Happy Crab" pin Josey got me from Hawaii on the lapel. The board was made up of three volunteer ajudicators. One was a a white guy who had a t-shirt for some motor-cycle manufacturer or other, one was a woman of colour, whose racial profile, and outfit escape me, and the third was an East Indian looking fellow in bland business casual.(I took day one of three on Cultural Diversity today, so I'm a bit colour sensitive.) They were all in their mid-40's to 50's. To be honest I think I had them all for breakfast. Even the biker guy who was representing: "Well you know this stays on your record, even IF (big IF) we find in your favour, blah, blah..." seemed swayed by my argument. But I shouldn't be so cocky, I still have a week to wait to see the result.

I am appealing the $200 surcharge on my driver’s licence based on the fact that it is unwarranted and unfair in my case. I have held my Driver’s licence for 12 years, and in that time have not caused a single accident. The incident in question involved a single, fully insured vehicle, a deductible of $200 that I was personally responsible for, and zero harm to property or person, beyond damage to the van. Whereas MPI considers it “fair” to automatically impose an additional fine for any accident in which a driver is found to be “100% responsible” it is my belief that they should allow good drivers who do not annually licence vehicles the option to use their accumulated merits to offset the penalties which, to people of my income level, seem unduly harsh.

The incident for which MPI has imposed their fine happened as follows: I pulled into the driveway of the group home where I work, with the company vehicle, at what I considered a reasonable speed. Unfortunately I skidded on a patch of ice just as I made my turn and I plowed into a rock-hard snow bank. The molded bumper cracked. I do not deny that I caused this accident, but I do believe that I was driving responsibly, and was a victim of poor conditions.

According to one Customer Service Agent I spoke to it is fairer to the majority of Manitobans to pay the $200 surcharge on their driver's licences because it allows them to maintain their merits. He offered an example I found personally insulting by mentioning the hardship a merit reduction would cause the owner of multiple vehicles. However, for people like myself that do not insure personal vehicles for economic and/or environmental reasons the preservation of merits is of little value. Yet we are not given the option to use them to offset the levy. A second agent explained that the $200 surcharge was punishment for having driven irresponsibly. MPI’s website backs this assertion by offering the following justification:

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. (http://mpi.mb.ca/english/Insurance/i_faq.html).

Given the nature of my incident and my driving record I do not believe I deserve to be disciplined. However if punishment is due, I should at least have the option to use the merits I've earned as a conscientious driver to offset the penalty. In lieu of that option I ask that the fee be waived in my case.

MPI may argue there is the issue of whether or not I have paid sufficiently into their insurance fund, seeing as I do not annually insure a vehicle. They may seek damages beyond the deductible I paid for repairs to the vehicle because they feel it is only “fair” that I “pay my share.” I would counter this argument by insisting that I have paid my annual licence premium since 1994, without complaint, and have even published an article in the Free Press advocating for more responsible driving. (I brought along a copy of my article and left it with the board).

If MPI feels it needs to collect more from licensed drivers who do not pay annual premiums, let them increase the rates on the fleet and commercial vehicles that we must operate to maintain our employment. As employees we do not have the option to forgo claims when minor damage is done to the vehicles we operate. Had this been my vehicle, I’d have lived with the cracked bumper rather than facing MPI’s punishment, but being an employee it was my obligation to own up to the damage and face the consequences.

In conclusion I would like to say that this levy amounts to a significant and highly punitive chunk for an otherwise responsible citizen of very modest means, who happened to make one honest mistake while carrying out his professional duties. 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 once-in-a-dozen-year minor accident, shouldn’t the insurance company pay-out without looking to reprimand me? Is it fair for the insurer to punish me without giving me the option to use the merit system they designed to reward good drivers?

Don't believe the hype

On Wednesday I had the "Letter of the Day" in the Winnipeg Free Press all about how bike mirrors are such an important safety tool. Today I crashed into a temporary barricade while turning from Arlington onto Portage because I was looking behind me, and not ahead. So I guess I'm not so smart after all. The only question is: should I issue a retraction?

ACSL Logos

Today I helped my friend Andrina load up some furniture for her store. For some reason we started talking about playing hockey. When I was a kid I really badly wanted to be a great hockey player, like so many Canadian boys. But I was over-weight and pathetic on skates. So I played in Tier 4, the house league. Sadly I had these fat prick coaches who thought they were in the NHL, and they would more or less bench me if it was an "important" game. Obviously my dreams of being Hawerchuck or Gretzky would never be realized.

I was telling Andrina I created a league where I was a star. Being a kid super interested in drawing, geography and sports logos I created names and logos for all my teams. I called my league the ACSL, which I think I just picked at first because I liked the sound of the letters. Anyway, the acronym came to stand for the "Associated Cities Sporting League," giving it kind of an old-fashioned sounding historical connotation (as if it was contemporary to, or even pre-dated the NHL.) But ACSL teams also had a football component too, because I liked to draw football players in the autumn. Some teams had full rosters, and a lot of them had jerseys, and I even drew a few stadiums, because my dad was an Architect and I liked to draw buildings.

I decided I would try and recreate all the logos and post them, mostly for my amusement, but also for anyone who is interested in what a creative but nerdy kid I was. These first three are all from the state of Ohio. I think the Ohio Bullets one was the first one I ever drew, long before I'd thought of a league. It was just something I doodled once and then kept doodling because I liked it. I think they might have been based in Toledo (like Klinger from M.A.S.H.) but I'm not sure.

TheCincinnati Americans are one of two teams that were called "Americans," the other one being from Arizona. I'm not positive why I did this, but the CFL had two "Rough Riders" so it seemed appropriate. I remember the American's logo being a bit of an ironic rip-off of the Montreal Canadien's (one of my all time favourites) so that's how I've reproduced it.

Clevland's logo is super simple, another one that just came about by drawing circles. Clevland was always one of my favourite American cities. I always like the Browns and Bernie Kosar, even though they could never get by the Bengals or Broncos. Clevland, like Winnipeg, is a blue-collar town with an artistic heart. We're not cosmopolitan or effete, we're meat and potatoes towns that suffered long from mediocre sports teams. We're both substantial cities in our respective countries, but not anywhere near the top of anyone's list of important ones.

Letter to the Editor: Mirrors for Cyclists

Here's a letter I submitted to the Free Press this morning. It was published as "Letter of the Day" on Wed. April 5

Geoff Kirbyson’s article “Work Cycle” included some helpful hints for would-be cyclists, however, it failed to mention the one accessory I have found essential since becoming an all-season commuter: a rear-view mirror. A mirror keeps cyclists conscious of the goings on in the urban jungle and helps him or her make better decisions. For example, cyclists can dodge the myriad of potentially deadly spring potholes and cracks in the pavement without fear of being run-over when using a mirror. They can increase their courteousness by yielding to busses, cars turning right at stop lights and extra-wide commercial vehicles. The informed rider is also aware of aggressive drivers who give no quarter, and can act accordingly (i.e. hug the curb). No-one would operate a motor vehicle without proper rear-view mirrors, and frankly I’m amazed that so many riders, and cycling advocates, have overlooked this critical tool.

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.