Tales from the Workplace – The Mascot

Forgot to post - April, 2022

I look left, I look right. My mouse has gone. It’s weird because it was there before I had lunch.

I look left, I look right. Wow.

I lift up a couple of things where it’s ergonomically impossible for a mouse to hide.

How can this be?

NIKITA.

I raise my voice because she’s behind a screen behind me. Baffled, I look to the ceiling.

I’VE LOST MY MOUSE.

I drop my head.

Oh.

It’s bang right in front of me.

Hm.

I google mouse to make sure it’s still a relevant term.

I’d returned to the office early in March after two months working at home because Omicron had struck Vancouver and it was like people couldn’t get sick fast enough.

I’m a fan of the office because remotely things don’t always translate and I need to minimize one-to-one conversations on Teams where my tendency to rewrite (and still get things wrong) can be alarming. Although this point is moot as I’m the only member of my team who goes into the office - funny how it takes paragraph to explain that I’m slow.

Still, it’s a wonder to watch a younger colleague’s cursor fly across one screen to the next like an esport. How are you doing that? Why are you doing that? Really?

I’m also a fan of going to the office because we’re social beings - imagine if no one was there to witness my mouse incident?

Upon my return the ceiling was still leaking. It’s not something that bothered me, so I pretty much ignored it (which is elite slang to say I didn’t notice it).

THE LEAK

The leak’s been going on for several months. There’ve been several explorations, several explanations, several attempted fixes, and several more defensive explanations.

I’m really not interested (and do you have to be so loud). I’m not an engineer, I can’t help. I’m a sort of, “If there’s a problem fix it person.” You know, very CEO-like (let’s check that box — whoosh, check).

As others started their day, they noted the leak and placed garbage cans to collect the water dropping from various places in the ceiling (I’m busy). The choreography was impressive as they moved back and forth, looking up, adjusting. Then it started…

Hey, did you know the ceiling hadn’t leaked for two months?

Huh, the ceiling didn’t leak while you were at home.

When did this start? It hasn’t leaked in two months.

It continued, all we needed were revolving doors

That’s funny it didn’t leak when you were working from home.

Did you know the ceiling didn’t leak for two months?

Wow. This is worse than before when it leaked. Two months… it didn’t leak when you weren’t here.

A longing look at the ceiling, then a faint smile, it didn’t leak while you were gone.

OMG It’s leaking again, it hasn’t leaked for two months (flashes me a look).

I have more of these lines, but it’s possible that’s more lines than there were people in the office.

Returning to the office brought up other issues. The first internal meeting left me confused (and I suspect everyone else), because I could see, hear and be heard, and yet, not be seen.

What? Someone stole the camera?

God damn it!

Of course, there was a simple explanation.

That missing camera was sent to me at home when the one I was using stopped functioning (nothing breaks anymore).

You mean you couldn’t spend $39 on a new camera for me?

Deflated, I felt like going on a narcissistic trip. The sort of thing millennials are pilloried for. Except I, Gen X, so prefer grunt, confusion, and endless Office Space references. I’m not the stapler guy, okay?

(Have to say I find most of the millennial tropes to be hollow, although that’s possibly because I’m working with Gen Z and haven’t realized).

I was confused because…

Anyway, I was thinking the 2020s version of stapler guy is a mascot, someone you can pat, who sticks around much longer than they should. They’re very nice (if odd), and wondered how I could fit in.

That it took me 2.5 hours to realize I didn’t have a camera might be a good start.

THE NEXT DAY

COULD THE PERSON MAKING THAT NOISE MUTE THEIR MIC.

It wasn’t me. I was talking. It was the huddle. My turn. Damn right people should be muted. It was an annoying static scratchy sound, and it was LOUD.

OFF THE CHARTS LOUD.

I could see more than one person mute 🤭🙀 (yeah people, get a grip)

So I continued. And so did the super loud SCRATCHY sound.

Oh.

Err.

Um.

IT WAS ME.

The mic was rubbing against my stubble when I was talking.

I’d put on so much weight, my head had become a human beach ball.

I shaved the next day.

You’re welcome to call me a problem solver (don’t hold back).

A few days later I was watching a colleague’s home video done to Easy Lover (it’s not what you’re thinking), which momentarily blared for about five minutes as I briefly forgot I could adjust the volume on the keyboard.

I was transfixed, making mental notes of all the edits.

I can’t describe the video without it sounding horribly wrong (it’s still not what you’re thinking).

Then the polite smiles came.

I think we should get you a new headset.

Or you could turn down the volume.

Yeh, I know. I bumbled, I was just wowed, mesmerized by that video (it’s still not what you’re thinking)

Within seconds a new wireless headset was presented to me.

Ah…

See…

I am respected.

Loved (even). No need for a pre-millennial entitled meltdown.

The old wired headphones were whisked away and I went straight into a meeting to find I couldn’t hear anything. WTF.

Well hell, no one said anything about an “on” button.

I found it but still couldn’t hear. Damn, the thing needed to be charged and so I plugged in the charging cable (problem solving level 2 certified).

But where one little bitty problem is solved, another arises.

The charging cable was on the short side. I eyed it suspiciously and with resentment. I knew where this was heading. The cable was designed for a laptop and I have a desktop. I was asked once why desktops were called desktops when they sit on the floor and I elaborated on a brief history of office computing. It was almost a Ted Talk.

The point being, to participate in the meeting, I am on the floor… on my knees.

Yes, yes, I know, this screams Hire me.

It called for improv and have to say, I handled this brilliantly. Glee emoji. 🤩

To be seen I stretch like a giraffe, but with my Covid size I’m more a hippo, my face barely making it in the corner of the screen when needed to speak.

I converse, pretending everything’s normal.

I was calm (blue blood runs through my veins, don’t you know), authoritative (at least I think), dead serious, no need for irresistable quips (I just can’t help myself), or drawing unwanted attention (I just can’t help myself), or unquantifiable um’s and ah’s (I just can’t...)

When my input wasn’t needed (which frankly is too often) I muted and gasped for breath offscreen. And scrambled back when required.

It was in that time-sucking moment, waiting, desperate for it to end when…

Oh, hold on...

I’m...

Uh...

err...

Oh... no...

It dawns...

A mascot.

Notes

1. Tips from the top. Never place a mouse directly in front of you.

2. The leak was fixed within a few weeks.

3. I’m the last desktop hold out (a separate short tale from the workplace).

Cinematic Destruction

I used to host small Oscar parties which over the years petered out to just myself and one friend who was interested. Then Covid hit and this year I couldn’t be assed to dig up the antennae from a moving box to see if I could get a reception with the war in Ukraine taking presence of mind.

Dune was the first movie I saw in a theatre since the pandemic began and I gave myself a well-deserved award for not running to the bathroom for three hours – which was basically letting everyone know l liked the movie so much my body withheld any impulse to pee. It also helped that I didn’t take a super big gulp, gulping drink into the theatre.

Thrilled by the cinematic experience I threw myself asap into the Bond movie before it disappeared from the big screen. Unfortunately, I didn’t pay attention that it was a ScreenX showing and so found myself entirely pissed off with the gimmicky cinematic destruction of the film being beamed to the side walls.

And that was it for movies in the cinema as Omicron hit before you could even pronounce it. My mood in the month before the Oscars had been dominated by events in Ukraine. With disinterest I flicked through Amazon to see Spencer for hire, the unnecessary retelling of Diana’s story where the princess discovers her inner scarecrow. The night before the ceremony I watched Coda, which turned me into a blubbery mess halfway through. This beats out not having to pee for three hours, so I was quite happy it won Best Picture.

Then there was Will Smith. Sometimes I wish we could live in simpler times. How many people saw that and went WTF and laughed because it was funnier than Chris Rock’s joke? Or didn’t know how to process it so laughter filled the void. The joke passed me by because I didn’t know Jada Pinkett Smith had a bald head (or alopecia). A joke that wasn’t funny but drew awkward laughs because Chris Rock is well, meant to be funny and that was the punch line, and one that should’ve been met with stony silence, or just not delivered.

We all know that Will shouldn’t do what he did, that we shouldn’t do that, but it seems placing him in the same category as Harvey Weinstein is excessive.

Let’s not forget this is an industry which regularly displays violence on screen. Sometimes cartoonish, often gratuitous, and occasionally personal and shocking. Hollywood lives off violence. How many people has Keanu Reeves knocked off because someone killed his puppy, or Liam Neeson in defending his family, or ditto, Bruce Willis over the years? If Will felt he was defending his family, then in Hollywood lore he can’t regret what did, but he can regret the consequences and learn from it – we all can.

But does it need a holier than thou response, either from media or this unimpeachable organization of the highest morality, of self-import, somehow representing and taking responsibility for an industry of questionable shit (including a century of shitty behaviour). And there’s the questionable decision about allowing a vulnerable person to co-present an award. I’m sure the health of Liza Minnelli was checked beforehand, and while Lada Gaga took the plaudits for her response, the distress is heart wrenching. Perhaps the Academy should consider a moratorium on awards.

Its awards show ratings have tanked, so one of the great movie stars losing their shit on the night doesn’t do it any harm. Maybe I’ll find my antennae next year. Maybe I’ll wait for the announcement that Will and Chris will co-host. 

Maybe it’s best to leave it to them. Chris Rock probably has the biggest decisions to make. No doubt his lawyers are counselling him on suing everything from the Academy to the popcorn and those super gulp, gulping drinks. It’s hard to see Chris as a victim because comedians are licensed bullies and I’ve been seeing pictures and reading about bombed out apartments, of millions of refugees, of chaos and destruction. It was in this this world Will Smith’s slap on him was thrust upon me, so forgive me if it seems utterly trivial. The barbarians are at the gate. One of them was president for four years. I’ve got bigger vegan fish to fry.

Are 62% of Americans the Stupidest People on Earth?

A poll taken within days of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine showed 62% percent of Americans believed Putin wouldn’t have invaded if Donald Trump was president. Where exactly this sixty-two percent had been living for the last five-and-a-bit years is a mystery.

I’ve let this sit for several weeks to see if anything would soften my reaction, or if there would be a retraction from the polling company due to a mistake, say, like… oops, sorry, we meant 26%…

Because off the top of my head the red flags keep flying. 

As President:

• Trump consistently attacked Nato threatening to withdraw from the alliance

• Attacked the EU

• Trump on a congratulatory call to Zelenskiy (then the newly elected Ukrainian president) threatened/bribed to withhold arms to support their ongoing conflict with Russia

• Trump abandoned Kurdish allies

• Trump signed a deal with the Taliban (without the Afghan government) to withdraw from Afghanistan (same shit would have happened last year)

• Powder puff sanctions over Russia’s interference in Donbass and the illegal annexation of Crimea (Crime A). As a bad-ass, strongman president he could have taken a different stance to the previous administration, say, like he did over climate change policy

• Fawning over Putin himself (think Boney M)

Imagine the message this sends to a fascist waiting for his moment to regain the Russian empire from the history books and making Alexandr Dugin’s brainchild a reality.

I can understand a core support believing Trump would have stopped this from his golf cart and Chuck Norris would’ve ended the war after twenty-five minutes, but 62% of the population? 

Shit. Only 71% of Russians believe in the special operation in Ukraine. This in a recent poll that drew scepticism because it was conducted by the Russian state and respondents might fear being truthful — never mind the shutdown of the remnants of independent media and the arrest of protestors. Curiously, an independent poll earlier in the invasion had support at 58%.

But let’s stick with seventy-one percent. 71% versus 62%. Not much difference when it comes to brainwashing, but while there’s a legitimate, if despondent rationale for the response of Russians, what excuse do Americans have?

This in a country with a free press and mainstream media accused of being dominated by a liberal, leftist elite. If the poll proves one thing, it’s the fallacy of that accusation.

Assuming the poll isn’t wrong, the rest of America and the world should be concerned because sixty-two percent of the population have bought into the strongman persona. If the door to fascism was ajar five years ago, now it’s wide open.

Tucker Carlson continues to operate as if a Kremlin agent selling bullshit to his audience, and no one should be fooled by the brief coming together of most of Congress to denounce Putin’s war. 

The assault on voting rights continues by those in government who assail state interference. The denial of women’s rights is alive and well, conducted by those in government who assail state interference. It’s monotonous. The anti-globalists decry the imagined loss of national independence, but have no problem with the invasion and control of sovereign countries, and the death and destruction that comes with it. They may shrug off Putin’s war as a strategic mistake, but they have no issue with his aim.

Sadly, the culture wars are set to resume because they’re easy pickings for angry, hollow fascists looking to distract voters from what’s actually happening…

Oh.

I think I may have stumbled upon my answer.

Stupidity isn’t permanent, it can be overcome. You’re welcome to believe Chuck Norris flying a MiG painted in Chinese insignia taking on Russia is the way to go, or you could do some research into Putin whisperer Aleksandr Dugin and watch your matrix unravel.

Works well with a good set of headphones.

Unfriending Everyone

I quit Facebook and no one noticed. 

To be fair, I wasn’t a very good friend, throwing a few likes here and there and then spouting gibberish. It’s not surprising no one noticed, I hadn’t posted in a couple of months, maybe more, so it was quite easy to slip through the back door. 

It’s been four weeks.

The prelude was the neighbour keeping me up. And worse, waking me up. Suffering from existing in a social experiment within a social experiment, where capitalism is truly alive (I’m up at 5:31am and working at 5:31am), something had to give beyond an exhausted email to the building manager at 1am. I could’ve approached the neighbour but it would’ve included a meat cleaver and a body bag. It was Facebook that was punished.

I went nuclear. Permanent deletion. 

The reasons are messy and complex. The ills of the company stemming from Zuckerberg at the top their hierarchy are well documented, as is the emotional hold to stay connected, and in that respect Facebook is a cult, even if self-designed.  Facebook knows we need it more than it needs us, we’ll return just like those major advertisers. 

The irony isn’t lost on me – tossing digital connection aside at the moment it takes its place in history as our in-person interactions are curtailed, and of course for anyone to read this other than the odd strange cat, I’d need to post on Facebook.

I had met all but three of my Facebook connections, it was a rule, a conversation, a physical memory required. But Facebook made me lazy, lazy in maintaining friendships, lazy in cultivating new ones. The connections were important, either creative, family, and in a few cases old friends, which is why it has taken me since October of last year when I first thought seriously about quitting. It took that long to accept, they are not permanently lost, just on Facebook. 

Admittedly that last glance was nice, people out in nature, finding success in film. I intended to do one last post, to ask friends to post their website or another medium they use (but not announce I was leaving).

It was too late, I was gone and held my resolve, and now the 30th day since deletion is almost complete. According to the company, my 12.5 year records will be wiped. Tomorrow I’ll wake up a free man, or at least one free from Facebook.

Dictators - The Short Read

You would’ve thought, maybe, just maybe, someone would have told President Trump, it doesn’t end well for dictators. 

The Gentlemen: A Little Snip of Snatch

Watching a fluff film about gangster shenanigans centred around illegal cannabis operations seems antiquated in Canada. In Snatch, or some stylized sequel to it, Guy Ritchie shows he has a future masterpiece in him, but most of the time I kept thinking with a little research, he would’ve discovered the cannabis black market will thrive after legalization in the UK.

The use of lighting and colour was expert, which is why I think there’s an arthouse picture no one will ever see from the auteur. He gets performances too, or were they experienced actors having a blast. Colin Farrell and Michelle Dockery were scene stealing every second of their short time on screen – had no idea that was Lady Mary (probably because I stopped watching Downton Abbey after Season 3) - and Hugh Grant was having a whale of a time sticking it to the gutter press who screwed him over.  

Hugh was slapping around a script like it was a 90’s film. It was so referential (and self-referential) to filmmaking and screenwriting (the things you’re not meant to do), it was a piss take, and it was so conscious of not meeting the Bechdel Test, I laughed. Beyond Michelle, the only other female character with more than two lines (guessing three) dies. I think that’s where I laughed.

The film within a film structure isn’t sophisticated or complex, it means you’ve run out of ideas to make something work. Trust me, I’ve done it, or at least thought about it often. Hey, I know how to rescue this piece of garbage. It works fine in The Gentlemen, almost artful, but Guy, come on, we know.

Thing is, who really cares? Yes, this was laced with racism and anti-semitism too, the pound of flesh not so smart or forgiving. But in this fluff world everyone’s a gangster, great characters or cardboard cut outs no matter, no one comes off well, they’re honest to it.  And there’s no reason to weigh down fluff with heavy thoughts (but if you want I can go there, because in a sense there is every reason).   

McConaughey‘s Mickey Pearson plays Robin Hood for the rich, and is seemingly named after a classic Britcom character (Mickey Pearce) for a laugh. This was a giant slab of I don’t give a monkey’s filmmaking on every level, that made the last twenty years seem like it never existed (amen, brother).  And at under two hours running time, kudos to Ritchie for not making a bloated bovver movie. For a man living in a box and who goes to work in an even bigger box, snips do when there’s no Snatch.

Recommended grub: Budgie’s Burritos (yer perfect 90’s throwback est. in 2005)

Recommended garden variety: sorry, not high

Recommended Drink: radler – it’s the closest thing around here to a shandy or lager top

Realization

I woke up on Saturday morning thinking about this beer. It’s a helluva lot better than waking up and thinking about work. Next step is to wake up and think about another human being, it’s a giant step. In the meantime I’ll continue to eat myself into an early grave, although the stark truth is, I‘m old enough the grave is no longer “that early”.

Cantillon Gueuze

COVID-19: Where Does it End?

It’s a question you learn early in screenwriting, do you know your ending? You don’t have to, but knowing it can inform what happens before, or what has to happen to make your ending resonate. Or at the very least, make sense. 

In Canada we went in the space of a few days from, “You are at low-risk (even if you attended an international conference with 26,000 people, where one person tested positive for COVID-19),” to one step away from martial law. 

That’s a bit of a jump.

As of writing there are 1,085 confirmed cases of Covid-19 in a country of 36 million people. The mortality rate is 1.1%. It has proved deadly for the elderly with underlying health issues. For everyone else it is zero. At 1.1% we have a greater chance of a heart attack. In my case 6-10 times. If I lose my job, higher. 

Anxiety will cause multiple health problems as most of us live in expensive cites one pay cheque away from a life on the streets. Granted, we will likely survive the heart attack. but there will be a host of unintended consequences, think of strokes, pulmonary embolisms, and those suffering from PTSD, let alone those existing with other mental health issues. And then there’s social anarchy waiting for us down the road. 

And you were expecting a happy ending? 

Basically, in a singular drive (of fear and panic) to eliminate this virus we are failing to see the whole picture. We shut out anything contradictory and look at the evidence that only supports elimination. I read an award winning scientist’s opinion in Forbes with this viewpoint and nestled in there was the threat it only takes one person for the virus to spread. 

Yuh, no kidding. 

The tone is clear, there can be no alternative to this shut down. Shame. Report. Zig Heil. Thanks for the fear. 

Otherwise it’s an informative piece. 

But let’s try to find a happy ending. 

 I understand the rationale for the shutdown. We needed to change our behaviour, but didn’t. So the government is trying to modify it. The US has a slightly different story where the ball was dropped, but to be fair they didn’t know there was a ball in the first place. President Bungle was so obsessed eviscerating any whiff of Obama policy, the US now has an infection rate more than twice of Canada. 

The mutual shuttering of our borders is the first action all Canadians can agree with 45. If the virus gets out of control, our health care system won’t be able to cope and in Canada we have a minority government, which can ill afford to look incompetent. 

Politics is part of the equation.

And I’m keeping away from the social experiment (intended or not) underway as much as I can. Maybe we need it as a precursor to catastrophic climate change, or for us on the west coast, an earthquake, or just robots taking our jobs. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, there’ll be hulluva lot of data to look at. 

It’s hard not to go down this rabbit hole. If you take British Columbia’s COVID-19 self-test (call it Step A), you’ll experience cognitive dissonance. Boris Johnson’s Britain was able to dabble in different ideas because he just won an unassailable majority.  Now, like Trump, he’s playing catch up.  

I digress, as usual, deliberately.

While the US infection rate is more than double the Canadian rate, and likely because of the uptick in testing, the mortality has dropped from 2.6% last weekend to 1.2% this weekend. I admit I’m obsessed with mortality rates (for weeks before I was introduced to the Johns Hopkins map). No matter where in the 2-3% range it landed, I always came up with same answer, I’m more likely to have a heart attack, and that’s if I contracted the virus. And so are you. 

Mortality rates are interesting. Here are some from countries, which have more cases than Canada:

• Austria: 0.28%

• Germany: 0.34%

• Malaysia: 0.34%

• Norway: 0.35%

• South Korea: 1.1%

• Australia (similar to Canada): 0.7%

You’ve no doubt heard of South Korea’s excellence but probably not the others, because it’s hard to compute with the human disaster unfolding in Italy.

In the 2017-18 US flu season there were estimated 21 million cases (clinic visits) and estimated 61,000 deaths, a mortality rate of 0.29%.

Mortality rates are interesting because it forces you to look at who is actually dying. And we know and we’ve known for weeks (longer). We could have focused on how to protect the most vulnerable as well as make sure we dedicated necessary resources to healthcare including the rapid building of modular units to act as clinics/treatment centres, or house beds. There were choices. Again, it’s hard not to see this as a social experiment, or a move at the very least, to make sure all but the most rabid of ant-vaxxers vaccinate their kids. 

And did you know the pharmaceutical industry is facing a patent cliff? That would really be digressing.

(Informative read  on Covid-19 vaccine. Clinically proven safe for fascist pro-vaccinators and whacky anti-vaxxers, although you might need parental guidance) 

Still, where does this end? The government can’t keep printing money because at some point we might twig it’s worthless.

 A vaccine is 18-24 months away. After testing, it still has to be produced and administered and its efficacy verified.  See you in 2022. 

Yuh, not so happy.  

Or

The virus will die off, or at least to a low-enough level in the summer (note, not zero) that will make it hard to spread. In Vancouver, that could be the middle of July. We’ll be held at home for four months. It’s one thing if we’re following the lead of a bastion of freedom and democracy, but China is not it. And there is one major caveat in this scenario, just when you thought there was an ending, you get another sequel because the virus returns — because hey, it only takes one.

I’m calling it. This self-imposed one-step away from martial law scenario is not a solution.

So what is? 

A change in narrative to reassure us.

You’re going to have to wait for it, because at the moment, psychologically, we are not ready for a message that contradicts the current one. We are still processing the fear and massive societal change underway. We’ve jumped to the second most extreme measure and been told it’s the solution.

In story terms we haven’t had enough beats, so governments will lose credibility on a level not seen before, if they back peddle. It will seem like the people in charge are clueless and we won’t believe them the next time this happens. It’s important to recognize as a community and individually we are in a state of fear around the virus and allow us the time to work though it.

We’ll need the following key beats: 

• Lower mortality rate

• Lower mortality rate

• Lower mortality rate

•  Drop off in confirmed cases

• Treatment for COVID-19 (the associated acute lung injury)

• Focus and resources to protect the most vulnerable and accepting this change of approach

• Return to promoting Step A as our key approach to minimize infection

• A media to tell us this story

In the end, we’ll hear the mortality rate has dropped (inevitable with more testing). When it’s 2-3 times (or less) that of flu, rather than 10-20 times, we’ll comprehend we can live with it and not feel so threatened. If it’s compounded with a treatment for the worst cases, bingo. 

 With the rate of infection dropping, the number of cases on the way down, a treatment and a liveable mortality rate, it will be a victory and we’ll forget we went ballistic at 350 confirmed cases while we live in a country where thousands are still infected.

The $50 Veggie Burger

FRIEND: You’re paying for the view.

ME: I’m looking at three TV’s.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m great company and this was a very good veggie burger but this is an average meal, and I can’t but help feel a disturbance in the force. 

It’s been rumbling for a while. 

Sure, I’m cranky, I’ve been up since 3:15am because my new “going-to-bed early” routine still only results in 4 hours straight sleep on work nights – at best – and tonight I’d be woken at four, my bedroom turned into a brothel by Vancouverites celebrating the one-week anniversary of Halloween with fireworks – think being inside a lava lamp. 

I know, cool.

When we sat down at our table we both laughed at the forced intimacy, the dim lighting so on overkill we had to whip out night vision goggles. It was over compensation for sitting in the airport lounge section, the music turned down so low you could hear the other music pounding from the bar half a mile away inside the restaurant. Yes, we were in one those large vacuous corporate establishments, where you need Gandalf the Grey to find the bathroom.

I’ve sat at that bar before, almost a year earlier after an office Christmas lunch that went on a good while longer, and only one of us was smart enough to take the next day off, and it wasn’t me. I’d bailed from getting into a cab to get cocktails because my body said food, and hm, I was the only one left who had to be in at 7am (ish). I found myself seated next to somebody with a lot of cash and was paralytic drunk.  It was horrible. My salad took 40 minutes to arrive. 

Don’t get me wrong, it was a very good salad.

On Thursday, my hand had barely got out of my cycling jacket when asked if we had decided on drinks. It was happening again, this crazy demand to ply drinks before you can breathe. WTF Vancouver? 

There are, one of two things happening here:

Either someone had a bad experience as a child in the 90s waiting for their Gen X reprobate server and decided when they ran their corporate establishment, this would never happen or, the next generation don’t know how to converse because we are all head first in our entertainment devices. 

I get if it’s brunch and you want to get your coffee or tea pronto, but that’s a question of caffeineted or decaf, black or herbal. Here it’s an extensive line up, and we were at unhappy hour – the half hour after happy hour, so everything appears overpriced and time stands still while thinking you’ve made some massive error of judgment. Could we have a few minutes?

It’s not the only place of aggressive booze serving. At a martini place in Chinatown in the summer we were asked if we wanted another martini within five minutes of receiving our first drinks! 

And while this is a blog and I’m prone to over exaggeration to make a point (like footballers diving when an opponent breathes on them), here I’m not. My friend was convinced it was only two minutes. The server came back five more times before we were close to finished. The food was actually good but I can’t recommend the place (in part because I can’t remember what it’s called). It’s on Keefer.

There was Tasty – the Yaletown version - they didn’t stop harassing us to get more drinks. It wasn’t just our server, there were three of them unable to realize two people across a table from each other might want to have a conversation. It’s the closest I’ve come to experiencing augmented reality. Maybe people are so used to their lives been interrupted by multiple text messages this is the norm.

At Havana’s it was the mimosa special, with the only thing being special, the extra $5 charge the server forgot to mention. No, it didn’t come with a lap dance.

I finally twigged on Thursday that we’re no more than commodities to the restaurant industry and it works on both sides. Something is rotten in Denmark. You can feel it in the air. The employees are being watched by their masters. The staff consist of goblin ants forced to walk at breakneck speed without running. It’s alarming and unsettling.

My dystopian future is finally here.  

If there is so much watching, I have suggestion, restaurants:

Put someone on “fries watch”.

Because, how dare you serve lukewarm fries! 

I’d normally send these back but I was hungry and shoved them in like an 8-year old, making sure I caught the dying embers of heat. Good thing it wasn’t a date (whatever those things are).

My aunt and uncle introduced me to this idea in Oregon five years ago. I was initially surprised they would send fries back, but you know, they had a point. When I returned to Van I noticed our fries were served hot, wherever I had them. The first time I sent fries back was a year later in London (yeah, shocker). Byrons, they were very apologetic, and watching the English apologize is amusing because it’s actually genuine.

But that’s so 2014. 

In 2019 this would have been the third time in Vancouver I’d have to return fries, and if that isn’t proof of my belief standards have fallen off a cliff in this town since, nothing else will. 

So what’s happened Cactus Club? It used to be so much fun going to have a meal before you were bought out and replicated all over the city like a plague – and I’m talking a while ago and more, when the menus were constructed from Gary Larson Far Side cartoons, so it didn’t matter if your server took three hours to take your order because you were entertained. Hell, I have sepia memories of Gary Larson cows hanging from the ceiling.

I don’t want be like one of those old guys in the 90s who used to harp on how good the 70s were and you’d chuckle at how ancient and antiquated their world views were, but here I am. Fuck. 

My face is contorted.

ME: $50 … and… so average

FRIEND:  I know what you’re saying, but you’re paying for the view.

ME: I’m looking at three TV’s.

The veggie burger was very good, the fries were crappy and a half-size portion compared to the 90s (there, I said it), and was left hungry so I ordered a lava cake that didn’t taste fresh and the lava was more like runny hot chocolate sewage. 

And there was glass of wine, because I couldn’t bring myself to spend over $8 on a sleeve of beer that would only ever reach 12oz of its stated 14. I’d rather self-immolate than order a beer in a Vancouver restaurant.

For $10 more I could actually go to a much better restaurant, but that’s reservation, more special event, and way too datey for a catch up with a married friend when the initial plan was to have dinner at their house because we’re both on budgets. 

We blew it. 

With budgeting I’m like a fiscally conservative government, balance the day-to-day budget, load long-term debt with a series of one-off’s, and tout my genius. 

Hey, what’s good for the goose...

My weekday budget is pretty tight, a third of it essentially goes on hot water, and charity collectors on the street can guilt me all they want, but I’m paying for a mental break that stops them collecting for me. And I have a reputation to maintain, at 49thP, they call me Mr. Oolong. 

 * To confirm, I’m an absolute joy to hang out with.

Tales from the Workplace

16th Floor Kitchen

“So Dave (I’m rarely called Dave), what was your highlight yesterday?“

Me. Blank stare. Yesterday? Sweet bejaysus, I can’t remember today. Hm. I went to work on my bike, came back home on…

“What was the worst thing that happened to you yesterday?”

Still, scratchy head blank

“You got dressed up.”

Oh. That.

“You have to tell Jaclyn, it’s…it was out straight out of a movie."

UNINTENDED ENCOUNTERS

To preface: I’ve somewhat lowered the bar on what passes for business casual attire. Short of a hoody (hoodie), sparkles and hair extensions, the bar is pretty much under ground. The environment is a mite corporate, the clients CEOs and investor relations. If we have an in-person meeting, we dress accordingly. 

Yesterday, I had an unexpected meeting. 

It’s not what you’re thinking. 

I have a jacket, shirt, trousers, ties (yes, two), and shoes hidden away in the office for such events. It’s just when I get dressy, it’s like whew, I look like I’m making a huge effort. Like Trump not telling a lie for a day, you notice – or you would.

Wearing a new, albeit 88% discounted shirt (SEE PICTURE) nixed the need for a swap and importantly, a tie. But still, I looked the part, and this despite having walked up sixteen flights of steps with a cup of tea. I even dusted off my shoes. GOLD STAR, THANK YOU, or a silver maple for the oncoming apocalypse.

This, my friends, was just a hand wash away from perfection.

Returning from the bathroom, I see the client arriving, before me, taking a seat. We exchange pleasantries and he looks at me for a second or two.

“You’ve got something stuck to your foot.”

I look. 

Yuh. Indeed. 

Five feet of trailing toilet paper, as it happens. Stuck to my left shoe.

fwwwwuu..

Like, why get up in the morning? Like, why make breakfast (I don’t). Like, why make your bed? (not very good at that either and it’s only a f*cking duvet).

But I shrug it off. I’ve seen worse, I tell him. I once saw a woman getting on a tour bus with about eight feet of toilet paper hanging from her behind. And no one told her.

Beat that. 

I didn't. 

With that moment of brilliance (and without taking the toilet paper off), I gesture to the meeting room.

• originally written in May, 2019

Salutations from the Cult of Don Davies

The Canadian Election, What We Know, So Far

Conservatives err in revealing their platform a day after the debates. They should have waited until after the election.

We know platforms are kinda bs. We have Canadian Lumberjacks (oops typo predictive txt) Liberal supporters on social media telling us Trudeau has kept 80% + of his promises but neglect the bits he didn’t keep are on the humongous side, like electoral reform, social license on ramming pipelines up you know where, reconciliation with indigenous peoples etc.

Btw did you know there are only three western democracies who use first past the post? We can delight that we rub shoulders alongside the shit show basket cases of the US and the UK.

Andrew Scheer now appears as the peanut seller on the football terraces of my juvenility. Eanuts! eanuts, get your roasted eanuts! Tax cuts! tax cuts, get your Doug Ford tax cuts!

Sorta makes sense now why Trudeau would mention Doug at every turn. For those who don’t know, Doug Ford is the not so popular populist Conservative Ontario Premier who promised $1 beer, when in fact you could already pick up a can for $1.06.

Doug has delivered cuts to services and stickers that don’t stick. Yep, Doug wanted Ontarians to know how much carbon tax they were paying by putting stickers on every gas pump. Except they didn’t stick.

This from a man who inherited a label-printing business.

So toxic is Doug, Andrew Scheer had to fly out his successor, Albertan Fuhrer Jason Kenney, to campaign with him in Ontario.

Meanwhile pundits screamed we finally had a substantive debate on Thursday... in French. Other than most of the country not watching, there was a serious flaw. What made it work, was its Achilles heel. Using a three-on-three format meant two leaders (sometimes three) were left out from commenting on various topics. I felt sorry for Elizabeth May (Greens). Not because she wasn’t heard, but her translator didn’t seem to understand her.

We had a squabble in English a few days earlier. It was lame but I was warming to Jagmeet Singh (NDP), who seemed so natural you wondered what he was doing there.

Why were you there Jagmeet, you ruined everything! At least this seemed the cry from Liberal support on Twitter as their sights turned on the man in orange.

Talking of orange, I live in a sea of it, head east across the Fraser south of 19th and check it out, it’s like Trinity Street at Christmas, except in orange, and without Santas, reindeers, or lights. Otherwise, pretty close.

So there we are, just 10 days before an election, the Conservatives release their platform, before Thanksgiving weekend. Thanks (sarky emoji thing). The same old mob is pulling the strings.

Either it’s sheer (obvious pun intended) contempt for Canadians, or maybe they have a point, we don’t need several weeks of this babble and squeak.

Wet Towels and Tackling Air Pollution

Went to bed with a wet towel the other night. Hard to believe, it wasn’t intentional, the towel had been there all day under the duvet. I was shocked because there hasn’t been much (as in nothing) on that side of the bed in a while, well, a while plus, plus, plus a bit more. Who thought my life could be so full of plusses. Mostly, I think it shrieks desperation, disappointment and another “d” I can’t think of. 

But hey, onwards and upwards. I’m still listening to Zero 7, because and for the record, I’m getting noughties (2000s) retro in before anyone else. 

And I did something vaguely useful on the weekend other than navel gazing, and while it’s a stretch to call it volunteering, let’s call it that. It was at a neighbourhood forum on air quality. I pointed out there weren’t any cups for the coffee…

… and served cookies at the break. 

There is a big story here, a lead Walrus type of story.

The Port of Vancouver is undergoing a massive expansion to handle 2.7 million containers just outside of the downtown and they haven’t carried out an environmental assessment of the impact on the surrounding community. 

Digest that. 

The Port of Vancouver haven’t…

Huh??? 

Yes, they haven’t carried out an environmental assessment on the impact on the surrounding communities!

You’d imagine this happening in China or Putin’s Russia, not in Vancouver where people get in a hissy fit over their community gardens on CN Rail land being threatened by CN Rail. Except that’s the posher, wealthier westside, where they rail against a property surtax on those homes worth over $4m. 

Down on the eastside, well, people would have to be birds before the impacts would be considered. Put a bird on it Vancouver, and you’ll be fine.

There’s a big story here: the Federal government under Stephen Harper’s Conservatives handed power to the Port to do what they wanted and they have.

There’s a big story here: the main road corridor of Clark /Knight has higher pollution than Toronto’s legendary 401.  

There’s a big story here: the Provincial government under former Premier Christy Clark dropped the ball on environmental assessment. 

There’s also a mystery. In 2017 the City approved of a $225 million plan largely funded by the Feds and CN Rail to help mitigate the effects of the port expansion. The City would have been handed the assets after completion. What happened after 2017? asked Stratchcona resident, Trefor Smith at a council hearing a few days after the forum.

“Well that’s a good question.” responded Councillor Hardwick.

Watch SRA member Trefor Smith take on City council at 11:11am.

There’s a big story here: a local billionaire influencing the city not to run an arterial adjacent to his light industrial but on a residential street the City has previously adopted three motions to traffic calm. Bad for business, it’s claimed, but we all know it’s a matter of time before it’s rezoned for condos.

And City of Vancouver Engineering refused to run an arterial on the most obvious route because of money.

There’s a big story here: I’m running out of breath.

But there’s more. City of Vancouver Engineering supporting the port and CN rail over the community to twin the rail corridor that will do god knows what to diesel train traffic. This one’s slightly more complicated because there was a quid pro quo the city could have done for the neighbourhood but failed by not committing to permanently calm a busy road.

There’s big story here: the City has too few councillors (12) to take the time to fully comprehend the issues and the decisions made. The London Borough of Barnet is 3/4 the size of the City of Vancouver with 300,000 less people and has 63 councillors. Depending on your indoctrination, you could argue for either level of representation. But I have the distinct feeling, twelve is a failure.

That’s a lot of story, I should write a screenplay or something, or become a documentarian. 

The community doesn’t want to stop the development but wants help to mitigate the impacts on them. Sunday was an opportunity to learn how to empower themselves against this heavy hitting story. You wonder, how do they step up?

Collaboration. Partnerships

At the forum were two representatives from Metro Vancouver, a City Councillor, a UBC prof (an air quality scientist) who is running a small air monitoring program (which needs further funding), and via Skype, the Co-Director of the West Oakland Indicators Project, an American community that had/has the same issues.  There are differences between the US and Canada, significantly Port Authorites are elected in the US and in Canada they’re not. Cue the menacing background music.

At the end, it felt a network of support had been constructed. The community will have to monitor air quality, they will need help, funding, there was enthusiasm to get schools and their students involved. This was largely a silver haired gathering, and good to note it’s not just the young interested in their own future.

It was affecting and powerful. 

Ultimately this was democracy in action and it could never be clearer how important a vote at the federal level is and why we must exercise that right. The air quality of this community will come down to the federal government setting and enforcing standards.

The community needs to know government won’t shirk their responsibility, but can they?

Short of becoming birds, they can also draw on the history of this community to fight for their rights and follow the earlier activism of the Militant Mothers of Raymur. See. There is a big story here.

For the rest us, we should know that pollution from arterials travels as far as two blocks either side, and us Vancouverites, who take our air quality for granted, shouldn’t be complacent. It’s not the black snot levels of London but there is a great deal of variation depending where you live. We need effective monitoring. But mostly, why the hell am I not wearing a face mask when cycling.

The Big Move

It was a strange pivot, about eight feet on a diagonal. Okay, so not such a big move, but it was an all-change seating plan at work. We were asked not to move all at once… 

and we moved all at once.

There was something school playground about it all, choreographed chaos, we were just missing a couple of clowns, and when I sat down in my new space, it felt like the first day of school. Pity I had to stare at life-sucking Salesforce, saliva dribbling out of my mouth.

Still, nothing beats Excel for warping brain cells. I was comforted the other week when the Sales Manager wanted help with the dreaded program and was met with a heads buried into screens wall of silence. 

The move produced a curious result. The three non-practising Jews were grouped together; writer, sales, and the client account manager (a bit of a wordy job title, if you ask me). In this scenario, I’m not the writer. It wasn’t intentional because we didn’t even know we were Jewish, but I’m thinking of hanging a Star of David over the section and calling it Ghetto Lite. We can talk about pickles and things.

Actually, we’ve already talked about pickles, sour or vinegar. Think I’m vinegar, my grandfather used to make pickled cucumbers, so I’ve got this non-practising Jewish shtetl ghetto thing down pat.

Can’t recall the last time I was in a workplace with three Jews (albeit non-practising). I kinda liked being the only one. There was this time in the mid-90s, barely weeks into a new job when the co-owner walked into the production office all happy because of a big sale/contract and said he was feeling all Yiddy. 

Yah.

Don’t worry, he was soon mortified. 

It didn’t take much. My boss, in disbelief, said his name and looked at me. There was a realization and a big apology. I felt weird, because I didn’t think people spoke in those terms, and that was the progressive 90s.  

I wonder what I’d do if it happened today. We’re all so sensitive now. I’d have to take three months paid stress leave with weekly massages, sparkles, a year’s supply of coconut water, counselling, and sue for $20K. 

Could do with $20K now as it happens —oh — please let this happen now,  please, I can go without the sparkles. And can I sue for $45K?

Come to think of it, at the end of a meeting last week, this happened:

“David, you look dumbfounded.”

Me, even more dumbfounded, “That’s my normal look.”

Imagine the tabloid headlines: Worker sues Employer for $45,000 because of his Normal Look.

Company counter sues, says offered employee discounted botox treatment through benefits plan.

You know it’s going to happen. 

To be fair, I’m guilty of doing unintentionally dumb things. A couple of months ago someone had a bad fall – and I don’t know why – but the “get well soon” card only circulated a few weeks ago and yours truly goes off script. I knew the person didn’t want to have an operation (hip) and was going for a slow recovery, so I wrote something to the effect of “smart decision not going for the op!”

The next day it was announced they were having a double hip replacement. 

Swear, I’m the male Bridget Jones.

The card was retrieved, a bit of awkward white out, and a colleague chastised me, never give your opinion on a card. And she’s been quite keen and amused to remind me several times since.

Carry on Camping, Canada

The Canadian Election, What We know So Far:

The skin on the right wing of the chicken is a little thin Boomers under attack Canadians know how to photoshop AND Conservatives propose wider roads on climate strike day

No kidding on the last one. Citing about 5% of a bar chart that shows emissions going down in the short term and ignoring the other 95% that shows emissions going up as more cars will use the wider roads, is what Andrew Scheer had to offer Greta Thunberg in Montreal, Friday.

Except Andy couldn’t attend the climate strike in Montreal because he was in the centre of the climate change-denying universe, Vancouver. You have to wonder what’s between the ears other than “make more babies” on a loop.

An awkward pause followed when it was pointed out, there just, might, possibly, be a march in the city of whack-a-doodle environmental nut jobs our leader-in-waiting could attend.

But hey, did you know the Greens got themselves into a bit of a hot water this week. Ignore this was an “ad/promo photo”, where you just might be creative, say, like the Conservatives using actors to warmly shake Andrew Scheer’s hand. 

Like really, put that out of your mind (the Andrew Scheer bit too), because somewhere in Green Party heaven they decided to remove a paper cup with a plastic straw from a photo of leader Elizabeth May and replace it with a recyclable cup and metal straw.

Oh, the shame they brought the country with this act that rendered their policies null and void. 

Ah, the all round silliness. Until I realized darker forces were at work. Yes, this was the evidence of foreign intervention in the environmental movement Jason Kenney has been waiting for. I called his informant hotline (a $30m piece of Gestapo McCarthyism) because no Canadian in their right mind would do something so stupid... 

… except widening roads to reduce GHG emissions. 

But that’s not the most stupid thing according to National Post columnist John Ivison, tarred in his Conservative feathers. That lay with Justin Trudeau’s $2,000 to families who want to go camping. 

Imagine the headlines, if this was England.

Makes for a good tweet though and riles the boomers who see any penny going to those less advantageous than them as heresy. Scratch beneath the surface (and you can fact correct me) but it doesn’t seem too terrible compared to an Albertan snitch line. It awards up to $2,000 for the 75,000 poorest families in the country to experience the great outdoors (assuming they’re not already homeless).

Then the obvious hits, it’s a Justin Trudeau pledge, it’s 80% likely not to happen. Why get all steamed up? Indica your way out of this, people!

The best part of the week has been the millennials response to those who flip out at anything that might address their concerns. They have one simple word and spray it without hesitation, Boomer!

It’s weird but this is the most alienated I’ve been in an election, as a Gen X’r (without my own family) it’s somewhere between endangered species and ignored. Nothing seems to have changed since I was young. Politicians still don’t speak to youth, the unemployed, the homeless, the renters, the singles, and the scotch drinkers. It’s tiring and most of us know who we’ll vote for, if we vote at all. The rest don’t need several weeks of this nonsense to decide.

I have a solution. We can shorten the election, let the candidates base jump off the CN Tower and rattle off their policies on the way down. They can choose to do it without a parachute… and call it the courage of my conviction jump. 

On this there is more to come.

But will leave you with this quote:

“The skin on the right wing of the chicken is a little thin.”

It’s the best line I’ll hear this election. The right side of the political spectrum dish it out like no other, but when it comes to taking it, not so much. It’s from a work colleague, a former broadcast journalist. He got into a public spat with a friend, a well-known Canadian politico last week. My eyes rolled when he told me who and defended this person as good (and reiterated it). There was a phone call, an apology. 

An example Canada is not yet America or Britain. That is something we should know so far, and not forget.

An Election without Cannabis

The Canadian Election, What We Know So Far:

Take CBD gummies and sleep through it. 

Did you know, no other industry has received more direct foreign investment in the last four years than the Cannabis industry? And with Legalization 2.0 around the corner do any of the parties know how to take this forward?

Have to say my political eyes have been drawn elsewhere today but I’ll take a stab that the Cannabis Industry hasn’t featured. And I’m thinking, do Canadians actually know much about this industry and where it’s heading, and it came in a flash, NO!

 So what more can I do than let you plug and play cannabis founding father Bruce Linton to explain what’s going on and what needs to happen. Will a government ever be smart enough to hire him?

Election Update #2 The Manchurian Candidate

The Canadian Election, What We Know So Far:

Trudeau plans to boost pony industry, claims Senator

In tried and trusted clichés, unelected Conservative Senator Denise Batters, tweeted Trudeau would give all Canadians a pony next.

Must admit I got excited about this one, because a free pony is certainly an upgrade on the three centimetres of pipeline Trudeau has given us, and I’d have to say to Denise and her fellow Conservatives, is better than a tax credit on a pony.

Yes, we’ve had some Conservative policy and I’m already lost at all the tax credits Andrew Scheer will give us, so god knows what I’ll actually do when it comes to tax season. There is of course only one reason for tax credits and that’s to get you to hate paying taxes. You spend hours and hours on this stuff only to realize you’re not going to benefit unless you earn three times as much as you do.

Andy also wants to make buying a home more affordable by creating a housing bubble that will burst and lower real estate prices by 50%. I would say it’s novel but...

And how will Andy’s Conservative’s pay for his boondoggle? He has a plan. What is that plan? He can’t tell us. Can anyone scream, Boris. It’s amazing what you learn at the dentist with the sound down.

Andy’s on screen first for the most time, Justin on second with something about businesses with a zero carbon footprint not paying taxes (which makes me think we shouldn’t go zero emissions), Jagmeet Singh got about three seconds standing behind a lectern that said climate change or something like that, and Elizabeth May (leader of the Greens) who might have something to say on climate policy didn’t appear at all. 

She was replaced by Kevin O’Leary’s wife, alleged to have killed two people in a boating accident. These four news items cycled before my eyes for an hour, so the next time I see Elizabeth May I’ll think she’s an alleged killer. 

Then I quibbled the dental bill as $75 is not 20% of $319. Turns out I can do basic arithmetic. Turned out the insurance company can do politics. 

Welcome to Canada (except you, Lacey Evans).

Canadian Election Update #1

Thought I’d go Guardian-like with a “What we know So Far” the sort thing they use for live updates when there’s a terror attack. 

London Eye Terror Attack, What We Know So Far:
21 Dead 40 Injured 3rd bomb defused. 
Suspect bought two croissants at Ladurée just minutes before

The Canadian Election: What We Know So Far:

Our Prime Minister wants to be black. Unfortunately he didn’t choose that route in his explanation because we're too racist to understand why a white man would want to be black. His apology turned out be bit of a fudge as it emerged he had a history of doing this (as pointed out in my blog that no one reads, it’s his schtick). 

In the blink of an eye, The Amazing Race Canada jettisoned their current program to follow the mad rush to find more recent pictures of Trudeau in full black body. Because we all know this didn’t end in 2001. 

You can see where this is heading, another one or two pics and he’ll be teetering on the brink, with the final twist of the knife, a reveal of something darker in his past. With all that privilege and entitlement, there has to be something lurking. 

While Canada has co-opted American culture and norms around race, it may come as a surprise that we are a different country and do not have the same cultural reference points and therefore, understanding. 

It shouldn’t be too hard to imagine Canada as a different country, after all, outside of a cold front on a weather map you’ve never heard of us before we elected a hot prime minister (bet you didn’t think we’d fuck him like this). Brits only know us through Brexit and the Canada-style deal they want. You know, the one where Canada unilaterally walks away from all its deals with the US only to renegotiate worse ones. 

Imagine us an island nation, then.

If you’ve been drilled that the only reference point for dressing in blackface is racist and directly related to minstrels, let me shock you. For the record my recommendation to white people is to walk on hot coals and then just stand on them for three hours before attempting a Trudeau. There's a fine line between something coming from a place of love and joy to mocking, even if you’re capable of discerning between the two.

But, if we are all agreed we should have known decades ago that dressing up in blackface was wrong, even if it’s part of a character, why in 2019 can I buy a packet of minstrels?

Come again? You say.

Yes, Minstrels, small, round (like smarties but bigger) pieces of brown-coated chocolate.

It’s not to demonstrate hypocrisy (although it could) but cultural differences and misunderstanding. But what’s there to misunderstand in the name, minstrel? These are in no way, shape, form, or colour, related to the medieval minstrel.

Chocolate minstrels are far more common in the UK than Canada, but you can buy them at Walmart in Canada. You may have thought a US corporation would know better. 

Minstrels are made by Galaxy, which is owned by Mars, Inc. You may have heard of them. They’re a large US corporation. 

Meanwhile in Canada, droves of people will not vote for Trudeau (the Liberal Party) because he has become a laughing stock around the world for trying to be too black. There are reasons not to vote for him and his party, but that’s the racist one. 

Who will we vote for?

Well, it’s looking like a homophobic man who hasn’t heard of family planning. He has five kids and won’t apologize for his past, offensive comments. He does smile, though, so bless him. He’s pretty much his own emoji. Why did Conservatives choose him? Because he's younger (40) than Trudeau, smiles (a lot) and the other leading candidate was a basket case, now proved by his verbal assaults on a 16 year-old environmentalist for her Asperger’s.

Andrew Scheer is his name and by the looks of one of his ads, lives in a gated community except it seems the gates have been suspiciously removed. 

Why am I so certain we’ll vote for him and not Jagmeet Singh (a Sikh)? 

Err, haven’t I proved we’re racist?

And as I’m the only one who’ll vote green, why even go there.

Of course it should be about parties and policies and not just leaders, but so far policy has been reduced to who has the best cell phone plan. Yes, the world is going to hell in a hand basket and this is what they’ve offered. Welcome to Canada, unless you’re Lacey Evans.

Undressing Trudeau, Canada and Racism

I hope one day we can dress up as who the hell we want. It may be ten or twenty years. It may be beyond my lifetime, but I hope one day we can attend fancy dress or themed parties dressed as whom we want. I hope, because it will mean we’ve progressed as a society. Today is not that day and it’s questionable whether it was in 2001. 

Questionable, because as much as we want to remove the vignette of seeing the world through 2019, it’s almost impossible, it’s too easy to distort memory to think those times were better or, worse. What we (white people) have learned since the advent of Black Lives Matter is that we live in an inherently racist society. It’s systemic, what may have once seemed innocent or just ignorant is deeply rooted, coded into us and our society from birth so as a white person we could not tell or understand. And so it was in 2001.

Would I have dressed with black face back then for a themed party (Justin Trudeau and I are of the same generation)? Probably not. I’m sure I would have felt uncomfortable, that something was wrong. Outside of been a child dressing up in adult clothes, most memorably in my grandfather’s apartment, generally I haven’t done a lot of that kind of thing.

Which is to say, I’m not Justin Trudeau. But could I imagine doing so? Yes. If I’m in to drama, in to dressing up, having done it before when I was younger, sort of my schtick, then yes. If in the midst of dressing up, I feel awkward and question what I’m doing, but my friends encourage me, then yes, I would overcome those doubts. If part of my culture included iconic films I watched when I was a kid/teen where white people dressed in black face, then the chances are great. A beloved film? Beloved actors? Yes.

Eighteen years earlier, Trading Places, a film that everyone loves to this day, a film that brilliantly skewers white privilege and tackles racism head on, has this moment. Dan Ackroyd. On the train. Awkward? Not half. But in essence here lies the confusion for anyone who thought themselves progressive, because right in this film, that wears an anti-racist message on its sleeve and its heart, is this racist moment and we are unable to discern it is one. 

Six years earlier, there was another film, beloved actors that Trudeau would have grown up with as a kid, seen the reruns on TV or a video rental; Silver Streak. Gene Wilder, Richard Pryor. If you’ve seen the film, you know the scene. There’s no overt anti-racist message in this film, but there is a black guy and a white guy having a laugh, getting on, working together. To a white South African kid, age eight, nine or ten, that’s powerful.

Granted, it’s only the first step, and Richard Pryor’s character, no matter how much we loved him would have been littered with racial stereotypes that were either reinforcing or setting a baseline of racism. I would have told you once I had zero cultural reference for that scene because it was American and this wasn’t present in my young life. It’s true and it’s not because I would have absorbed somewhere, somehow, negative images and not from just being a white kid in apartheid South Africa. 

A friend called me last night, not about the Trudeau scandal, but we did get there. She loved Diana Ross when she was younger, so she dressed up and painted her face black – and more than once. It was fun and it came from a place of love. A place of love. The thing is, my friend has brown skin. She made her skin more black. Where does she stand? 

What does the white kid who loves Black Panther do? No parent in their right mind would paint their kid’s face black but you could understand why the kid might want to paint their face.

We live in a world of binary on steroids. There is no space for reason or critical thinking.  If there are a thousand steps for a white person to take to truly grasp the racism and privilege of the world we live in, not one of us is there. Period. 

Which brings me to…

The mofo columnists, opinion makers, and politicians who are caught in the fomo on castigating Trudeau. Particularly those white middle-aged ones (in fact you don’t have to be middle-aged). It’s grotesque. They’re behaving as if Trudeau did this last weekend (actually everyone is). It’s just too easy to resist pointing out Trudeau is a fraud, a hypocrite. 

The thing is, where is Trudeau on his way to the thousandth step? 

He’s closer than I am.

And a darn sight closer than those right wing opinion makers, who, if their skin crawls at the sight of these pictures, should at a minimum, have deep reservations about the Conservative Party and the leader they want to put in power. 

They’ve appointed a former director of a hate-filled intolerant media outlet to run their election campaign. They have a leader who can’t turn up to a Pride event, but can be on a show in 2017 of someone who espouses white genocide conspiracy theories and not long after was fired from said media outlet for associating with white supremacists. 

These same critics and anyone who agreed or joined in mocking Justin Trudeau for embracing and celebrating Indian culture with heart last year were being racist, are being racist and are enabling racism by ignoring what exists in our political spectrum and society. It’s easy for them to state the obvious but they don’t engage in the issues we face because the white people aren’t interested. Yes, J’accuse. 

OR maybe they were just jealous because Trudeau looks comfortable to their awkwardness when they do the same thing.

These are the people who didn’t dress up when they were younger, except maybe as white fairies, white angels, or white wizards — or in some cases, permanently as old white gits. 

We should be concerned, too many people are not taking the first step to tolerance but are leaping to the hundredth step of racism and this story is being used for this purpose by undermining the message of tolerance and inclusivity Trudeau, or at least his selfie, at one point represented.

In 2015 the Conservatives invoked anti-immigrant and racist ideas in their campaign. It failed. Canadians turned away. There was someone who represented their values and hopes better. 

Arguably it should have been the leader to the left of Trudeau, who swung to the centre but stuck to his principles against a niqab ban in Quebec. It cost his party a crap load of seats. But it was Trudeau who carried the aspirational message. In terms of carrying a cultural and societal shift, that is significant. And so it becomes critical for those who oppose Trudeau to denigrate him. Stick the knife in, make sure the picture is in black and white, and enhance.

Destroy the messenger and what he represents becomes invalid. 

The beauty of multiculturalism is we can learn, share, and embrace other cultures. Yes, this is overly simplistic. We can discover new food and clothes, and learn new ways of celebrating life, all essential in overcoming our fears of the other.  

For now though, I’m going to balk and stick to the safety of my Footloose acid wash jeans.  

Canada has lost its marbles, its PM and is so short of stones, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard are sending shipments. Clearly, the country is short of premium weed.

*If you click fb like, you are anonymous to me but probably not to fb ;)

Voters Choice - Canada's Environmental Conundrum

https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/2413595-there-is-no-planet-b

There’s one question for Canadians as the Amazon burns; will we wake up? And I mean a giant zeitgeist collective consciousness wake up. There’s a federal election in October, so what better time. Our planet is at the 11th hour. Here’s where our political parties stand on the climate and environmental crisis:

Conservatives – the party most likely to form an alternative government:

[This space intentionally left blank]

Liberal Party – A plan that’s 21 years out of date. They followed the previous Conservative government’s lame CO2 emissions target, are doing more to ram another pipeline to the west coast than Conservatives ever did, and now, with some irony,  I recall Justin Trudeau’s Canada is a country of the rule of law finger wagging at British Columbia blocking the afore mentioned pipeline. The PM’s social license went missing in the post.

NDP – The “Socialists” are fracking their way to extinction in British Columbia, continuing the previous provincial government’s boondoggle of a Site C dam construction by ignoring and spinning a commissioned independent report, that well, anyone with half a brain cell would reach a conclusion we should pull the plug and eat the costs, not triple them!  Then there was the former NDP government in Alberta and their vitriol towards their NDP counterparts in British Columbia for blocking that oilsands pipeline.

It’s important to see what political parties do when they hold the reins of power, because you can’t make this shit up.

So what about the one federal party that hasn’t help power (at least provincially)? 

Green Party – Fighting cell phone bills. 

Yup. A recent email from GPHQ let me know how Canadians pay amongst the highest cell phone bills in the world — and they’ll fight for us.  It’s true but it doesn’t take much searching/asking to find alternatives to the big carriers. I did this three months ago and now pay $25 for:

• 500 unlimited minutes during peak weekdays across Canada (all other times are free), 

• Unlimited text & dick pic messaging.

• 1GB of data, albeit at 3G but makes no difference from what I can tell.  As long as you don’t use data heavy apps (like Facebook) or endless streaming on the fly, 1GB is fine. There’s something called wifi. 

 There are options. The problem is any savings will be swallowed up by rent increases. Affordable housing should be election issue #2 as landlords gobble up every bit of freed up income.

Apologies if you thought this blog was going to delve into environmental policies but, this in truth, is where we’re at in Canada. 

Whatever Happened, Prime Minister Trudeau?

A little bit of humility, please. Humble pie, it’s been on your table all year prime minister and you’ve refused to eat it. 

Canada’s aspirational prime minister has been on the receiving end of poor advice, the party political machine has kicked in with old characteristics, it’s tiresome and disappointing. Just like the Conservatives before them, Canada’s Liberal Party are banking on that most Canadians don’t care much beyond what they can do with their pay check.

It’s simple really, if you’re swept to power on enthusiasm to do politics differently — remember, reducing the PMO’s (Prime Ministers Office) influence, transparency, social license — then do it. 

Go before Canadians, apologise for not being true to those aspirations, let Jody Wilson-Raybould run unopposed by a Liberal candidate in her Vancouver-Granville riding in October, let it be the start of a reconciliation. That would be different.

Then work on a plan for climate action that’s not 21 years out of date.

We’re having the wrong conversation about climate change in Canada – while better than not having one at all, a Conservative government would eliminate it all together, the narrative must change.

The failure to engage with people whose livelihoods will be affected by either reducing or stopping the rapid expansion of the oilsands (née tarsands) needs to be addressed. It’s easy to understand why people making a living would be resistant to such change and why they are fodder for the climate change denial industry.

If they experienced the shutdown of the Atlantic fisheries that forced them to leave their homes, travel thousands of miles to set up new lives and send money back home, it makes that task far more difficult. The direct threat of losing a well-paying job is the visceral reality, and it requires a solution.

How do we help and how can we be expected to trust the words of politicians when they lie? 

Trudeau has one shot to get his apology right. It has to be genuine and the actions that follow must match.