Wee Wally's willie was wedged while whizzing...

Normally the Brits are a sensible lot, not likely to get "bogged down" in general silliness, but an article in today's Toronto Star certainly got my attention.

I would ask you to please refrain from laughing out loud - as I did earlier this morning. I actually made Rice Krispies appear out of each nostril - a feat unto itself since one has been blocked thanks to a rugby incident in the early '70's.

Dr. Joe Philip of Leighton Hospital warns that parents should be extra vigilant during the holidays. "As Christmas approaches, many families will be visiting relatives and friends and their recently toilet-trained toddlers will be keen to show how grown up they are by going to the toilet on their own."

It would seem that there has been a rash of small boys who have sustained injuries to their tadger by way of falling toilet seats. There is, by all accounts, a major risk of "penis crush" from heavy wooden, ceramic and ornamental toilet seats.

I am not making this up.

So it begs the question? Why now? Growing up as a lad in Scotland, I never heard of any of my friends being caught short by American Standard's best. Rhetorical question; is there something wrong with the youth of today that would cause certain unwitting and likely well-developed male children (imagine the whole process of "an accident" and you'll "see" what I mean) to suffer such embarrassment and potential physical and mental scarring?

Unbelievable. And to think that money was actually spent on this study - and it was delivered with a straight face.

I do, however have first hand knowledge of an incident with an older gentlemen who, one Christmas morning many years ago, bleary eyed and hung-over, helped with the annual Christmas morning breakfast. This fellow was the only male in a household of women. There was his wife and his five daughters. This poor fellow treasured any time he could get in their one washroom

I digress.

So hung-over to beat the band, the excitement of Christmas morning and the crescendo of six twittering women - removing a ham from the oven, this poor fellow somehow managed to catch the drawstring of his PJ bottoms in the oven door as it closed, drawing him inexorably closer to the diminishing opening as the door closed - rapidly.

The drawstring was not the only wayward object that got caught in the door that morning.

By all accounts, this fellow's member resembled a piece of flank steak for many days after.

Needless to say, ham has not been on the Christmas morning menu for some years now.

Kitty update...

The Dude continues to improve.

We will not be releasing him into the general population today, after all.

Since we are still monitoring food and liquid intake and it's subsequent "release", it's so much easier to do it when the beast in question is segregated. Remember, there are five cats and at this point in their evolutionary cycle, have not managed to make their litter box deposits with unique ID attached.

So The Dude remains in our bedroom in solitary. Earlier today, we let Ben in to see him. Ben initially ignored Zack; there were way too many new scents for him to discover all at once. However, once the initial scent foray was completed, the two buds nuzzled one another and Zack decided to clean Ben's large face as he dropped his head and leaned in towards The Dude.

Cute moment. Would have been a Kodak moment, except nary a cell phone or camera was to be found.

We spoke at length with Dr. Jeff and we all agreed to keep The Dude in isolation -- not that he's contagious or infectious, but...

So likely Friday or Saturday, we'll "release the hound", so to speak.

We're all doing so much better with administering his meds and that regimen too should also be completed by Friday. Zack now sees me approaching with a syringe full of his medication and he jumps onto our bed and prepares himself for the inevitable dosing.

Sheryl and I pretty much do the same.

Our Christmas cat...

As many of you are aware, our kids are our pets. Currently we have five cats, all Maine Coons and one dog, Ben, a Bernese Mountain Dog.

Last May we made an effort to reduce some household expenses. One of those items deleted from the budget was insurance for the cats. You see, our cats, being indoor felines, are not exposed to some of the nasty things lurking outside - including country wildlife, such as wolves, coyotes, black bears, foxes and the like. They are also unlikely to contract any weird diseases. They all see our vet, Dr. Jeff Simmons, once a year for a check up and shots. In all the years we have owned cats, we have not experienced any major health issues. So, we cancelled the cats' policies and doubled up the insurance on Ben.

Last week, our youngest cat, Zack began to exhibit odd behaviour. He became lethargic and stopped eating. He also puked a couple of times. Zack or as we refer to him, The Dude, has always had a voracious appetite and, in spite of being neutered, he never developed a hanging belly, so common in fixed felines. If anything, he was always on the slim side and was full of energy and mischief from the get go.

Not last week.

We took him in to see Dr. Jeff Simmons at the Peterborough Pet Hospital. Zack will be two years old in February, just like his "brother", Ben. These two are practically inseparable. The Dude thinks he's a dog; Ben believes he's a cat (a cat the size of a mountain lion!). Initially Jeff was a little concerned about The Dude's weight; seems although he had grown from his last visit, his weight had barely changed. Blood samples were taken and sent to Guelph for analysis. Seems these days just about everything can now be ascertained from these tests at one time. Jeff was looking for thyroid issues, pancreatitis, diabetes and cancer. OK, so he was not looking for them; he wanted to rule them out.

Meanwhile, The Dude returned home with us. We kept him segregated from our general population - much to Ben's dismay. He sat outside our bedroom door, waiting for his buddy to come out and play.

That did not occur.

Meanwhile Jeff had "given" us some special food which was quite dense and loaded with calories. We were to force feed him. Ever attempted to force feed a cat? In spite of his general malaise and weakness, we discovered that there was nothing wrong with The Dude's adrenal glands. We had to practically hog-tie him and wrap him in a blanket to attempt feeding. Limited success - but we both still had all our fingers.

Over the next 12 hours The Dude’s condition declined. He was still throwing up and he did not look good. We could see that he was fading before our eyes. The next morning, Jeff gave us 90% of the results. Everything was normal. We were still, however, waiting for the pancreas and thyroid results - they were expected the following morning.

The previous evening after many calls to our friend and Maine Coon breeder, Sharon, we had decided that even if all came back negative, we wanted The Dude to be x-rayed - hopefully to see if there was any blockage of any kind within.

TLATO drove back to the vet's with our friend, Val, who offered to assist since I was out of town that day.

Zack was hooked up to an IV and pumped with fluids and antibiotics then sedated for the first of a series of x-rays. At this point, the cat appeared to have gas and feces in his system that, for some reason, was not moving. Young Zack was given the first of several enemas to flush out his system. Naturally, this made him even weaker. After each "flush", a further x-ray was taken. Eventually, everyone was satisfied that all was clear and there had been no evidence of foreign bodies in the flushed waste. An exhausted cat was then made comfortable and continued to be hydrated as he rested overnight.

The following morning, Jeff called to report. The last two tests were clear. Zack was being fed and they would be taking additional pictures to ensure that the processed meal cleared his system. He would, all being well, be released at the end of the day.

That Friday evening we drove into town and spent some time talking with Jeff. At this point, Zack was doing very well. However, the diagnosis was a little shaky. Perhaps there had been an infection in his bowel that caused his system to slowly shut down as he poisoned himself? Regardless, he was responding to the three medications he was on and our skinny kitty came home.

The Dude's been home two days now and he is back to his old self. His personality has returned as has his appetite. We have to medicate him for the next week or so, liquid meds taken orally - syringes and cats with sharp teeth - we are becoming more adept with each treatment.

We plan on releasing The Dude to gen. pop. tomorrow. Ben misses his buddy, and the other cats, Merlin, Rocky, Elvis and Xena know that something is amiss. Rocky has attempted to break into the room too many times - we have taken make-shift security measures - bungee cords attached to two door handles, otherwise Rocky would be in with Zack as I write. Not that Rocky would do anything; we just want Zack to get his strength back before he resorts to his usual routine.

So, it would appear that The Dude is well on his way to perfect health.

At a cost.

Sheryl and I had decided weeks ago we were not going to exchange gifts this season since we're off to Florida in a week or so. Just as well. We'd be looking for refunds to pay The Dude's vet bill.

Wow! Hindsight being 20/20, we should never have cancelled the damn insurance.

Who knew?

History has a habit of repeating itself...

It would appear that some people, Canadians, have particularly short memories.

Presently, in addition to the whinging and whining about Canada’s Government, there is a remarkable amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth regarding the newly established Liberal-NDP coalition.

Lest anyone for one moment forgets, on October 15, 2003, the Canadian Alliance (formerly the Reform Party), led by a younger, almost cherubic Stephen Harper and the Progressive

Conservative Party (under its new leader Peter MacKay), announced that they would merge to form a new party, called the Conservative Party of Canada. This was, no matter how one looks at it, a coalition. This “union” was ratified on December 5, 2003, with 96% support of the membership of the Canadian Alliance, and on December 6, 90.04% support of elected delegates in the Progressive Conservative Party. On December 8, the party was officially registered with Elections Canada, and on March 20, 2004, former Alliance leader Stephen Harper was elected as leader of the party. The new party was dubbed "the Alliance Conservatives" by critics who considered the new party a "hostile takeover" (does this rhetoric sound familiar?) of the old Progressive Conservatives by the newer Alliance.

The new Conservative Party would form Canada’s Federal government on February 6, 2006.

So endeth the lesson.

Adden-dumb to Wal-Mart post...

The family of a worker trampled to death in a "Black Friday" crush of bargain hunters at a New York Wal-Mart store filed a wrongful-death lawsuit on Wednesday, claiming store ads offering deep discounts "created an atmosphere of competition and anxiety" that led to "crowd craze."

In simple terms, the advertising made people do it.

Please.

As many of you know, by day, I own and run a small, full-service advertising agency based in Toronto. While I do believe strongly in the power of the written and spoken word, I am amazed that some lawyer saw fit to pursue this based upon the above premise. But wait. It is the US after all, perhaps the most litigious nation in the world. A lawyer or law firm took this case on a contingency basis – if successful, they will receive a percentage of the award and then goes about their normal business, listening to police scanners and chasing proverbial ambulances.

The lawsuit claims that besides failing to provide adequate security on Friday, November 28 for a pre-dawn crowd estimated at 2,000, Wal-Mart "engaged in specific marketing and advertising techniques to specifically attract a large crowd and create an environment of frenzy and mayhem and was otherwise careless, reckless and negligent."

Say what?

“Guns don’t kill people… people kill people.” Here’s a quote from the Urban Dictionary… "Listen, Buck, when the gun-control crazies protest the concealed carry legislation, all you got to say is 'guns don't kill people, people kill people'. I mean, it's just that simple. After all, when guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have guns, right?"

I digress.

Jdimytai Damour, 34, was 6-foot-5 and weighed in at around 270 pounds. He had been hired by an employment agency as a temporary worker at the Wal-Mart store and had been on the job a week when he died. Damour died of asphyxiation after being crushed by the crowd, which broke down the electronic doors in frantic pursuit of bargains. At least four other people were treated at hospitals, including a woman who was eight months pregnant. Interesting sidebar, here; Damour was as big as an NFL lineman. He was placed at the entrance of the store to assist with crowd control. Profiling?

I continue to digress.

Not wanting to leave out anyone lest they be offended, this action, in addition to the retailer, also named the realty company that manages the property and a security company hired to patrol the property, as defendants.

"Those hundreds of people who did make their way into the store, literally had to step over or around him or unfortunately on him to get into the Wal-Mart store," Nassau County Police Commissioner Lawrence Mulvey said this week. "Police are reviewing store video to identify possible suspects in Damour's death, but Mulvey conceded that criminal charges are unlikely.

So let’s be clear. No-one rolled up a flyer or newspaper and clubbed Damour with it. No one threw a barrage of mp3 files containing radio spots. No-one threw video tapes of 30-second commercials at him.

I am not for one moment absolving Wal-Mart of any blame or responsibility here. By all accounts, in this store at this location, security and security measures were perhaps not what they might have been. However, step back for a moment and ask yourself this; how many Wal-Mart stores are there in the United States? The answer, as of August 31, 2008 is 4,227. It would be a reasonably safe assumption that the vast majority of those stores participated in Black Friday sales. Across the nation, the air waves would have been crackling for days with advertising, urging consumers to part with their hard-earned dollars. Spend, spend, spend. At how many Wal-Mart stores was someone killed on that very day? One.

Advertising did NOT kill this unfortunate individual.

He was killed by a frenzied crowd of bargain hunters on a mission – to purchase something, anything at a ridiculously low price – because they could.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

The defense rests.

January 26, 2009 - who's kidding who?

Pop quiz: do Stephen Harper and his band of merry yes-men (and women) seriously believe that over the next seven weeks the mighty Conservative propaganda machine can undo the sentiment of the majority of Canadians?

I believe that the above sentence is a text book example of a rhetorical question.

After a secretive two and a half hour meeting with Canada's Governor General, Michaëlle Jean earlier today, Harper sought the dissolution of Parliament to buy some time and avoid the inevitable.

The official term is "prorogue".

Prorogue basically means to temporarily shut down the workings of the Parliament. It is a way for the government to hide from its constitutional duty to address Parliament, in this case avoiding a vote which could topple their already tenuous (death) grip on power.

Remember, in Canada, we do not elect a Prime Minister. We elect individual members of Parliament. The group of members (usually aligned to a formal political "party") who have the largest group, traditionally form the government. This gaggle of enlightened individuals is often comprised of former lawyers, car salesmen and zealots from all walks of life. They then choose from among themselves a Prime Minister and other Cabinet Ministers. That “elite” group continues to hold the reins of power until they "lose the confidence of the House". Losing the confidence of the house has usually meant losing a vote in the House of Commons on what is called a "money" bill. So they can lose a vote on the passage of a new law, but not on a budget, for instance. When a government loses a confidence vote, they are expected to resign. Now, when they resign, the Governor General chooses one of several options. These include calling an election, refusing the resignation (sending the government back to work it out like mature and responsible adults), or the Governor General can ask the opposition if they are prepared to form a government. That is what the current "coalition" wants her to do.

It's worth noting that coalition governments are perfectly legal and quite acceptable. Remember, we did not elect a Prime Minister, we elected members. Those members are free to form any alliances or coalitions they choose. That is all that the current coalition is doing; they are forming a fresh grouping that happens to include members of two parties - Liberal and NDP. It's legal, it's traditional, and it's even all quite democratic in the true sense of the word – but in the most basic of ways. Another important point to remember; at this point, the Bloc is not an official member of this alleged coalition.

The coalition, which would have a 24-member cabinet composed of six NDP and 18 Liberal MPs, has vowed to make an economic stimulus package a priority, proposing a multibillion-dollar plan that would include assistance for the auto and forestry sectors. Nothing for the man on the street, Joe the Plumber -- sorry, wrong campaign... wrong country... bad idea.

Harper's rational for this move? "The economy is the priority now, and the public is very frustrated with the situation in Parliament. We're all responsible for that." Harper even went so far as to make this statement in French. Now and only now does he choose to pander to the hard line sovereignists. I always thought that it was impossible to suck and blow at the same time, but Canada’s soon to be deposed leader, appears to have mastered the fine art. Kudos for that, Steve.

As was the mantra during the recent US election campaign, "It's all about the economy, stupid!"

By the way; C-SPAN is fast becoming "Must see TV!"

Life resembles art...?

It's all pretty pathetic, really.

The following muffled statement was heard from behind closed doors at 24 Sussex Drive over the weekend. "Put 'em up, put 'em up! Which one of you first? I can fight you both together if you want. I can fight you with one paw tied behind my back. I can fight you standing on one foot. I can fight you with my eyes closed. Oh, pull an axe on me, eh? Sneaking up on me, eh? Why, I'll... Ruff! "

Seven weeks ago, Canadians decided that we were not ready for a change in our Federal government and did not upset the Conservative party who were returned with another minority. It's not that we did not want a change. The problem lay with the leadership, or lack thereof within the Liberal party - who were the one possible viable alternative. The minority kept the ruling Conservatives on a relatively short leash.

Boy, was that leash ever short. Seems it was attached to a choke chain.

Governor General Michaëlle Jean - for the sake of this post, she might be referred as Dorothy, could be forced to decide the fate of the minority Parliament in the coming days. Prime Minister Stephen Harper could seek her permission to discontinue the current session of parliament, thus avoiding defeat at the hands of an NDP-Liberal coalition.

Or she could elect to hand power to the NDP-Liberal coalition, formally sealed yesterday, if they defeat the Conservatives as threatened next week. Yesterday, December 1, the Liberals and the Jack Layton led NDP signed a formal, unprecedented pact to replace the minority Conservatives, who were re-elected just seven weeks ago, with a coalition government. With guaranteed support from the separatist Gilles Duceppe's Bloc Québécois for at least 18 months, the Liberal-led coalition yesterday wrote to Jean to offer a governing alternative, claiming the Conservatives have lost the confidence of the majority of the House of Commons.

"We are ready to form a new government that will address the best interests of the people," said Liberal leader Stéphane Dion, who would lead the coalition government as Prime Minister. "It's all about the economy . . . it's why we are together, to fight this economic crisis."

But Harper and his Conservatives say they will fight to hang on to power in the face of an extraordinary opposition move to force them from office. Two senior cabinet ministers emerged after huddling with Harper last night to declare the coalition "undemocratic." Wow. Great response, guys. Feels like we’re back in a playground during recess - not dealing with a crucial milestone of this country's history during these tough economic times.

The three parties, with a combined total of 163 seats in the Commons, pledged to defeat the Conservatives, who have 143, at the earliest chance - perhaps next Monday, December 8. "There is no turning back."

Some background; Dion, who led the Liberals to their worst election showing in a generation on October 14, is now poised to become prime minister under the deal, until he is replaced by the winner of the Liberal leadership convention in May. You may recall shortly after the last election he decided to step down as leader. So it's entirely possible that Canada may be led by an already lame duck party leader. Talk about no brain!

Meanwhile, Layton, who reminds many of a long-since retired adult entertainment extra with his cheesy moustache, is just beside himself. His excitement is oh so obvious. A socialist-leaning ideologue looking to serve his own personal interests. Talk about no heart!

And then there's our separatist ami, Duceppe. Waiting anxiously working tirelessly behind the scenes to undo this united nation and declare Quebec a Sovereign state. Talk about the actions of a coward!

So, now I've drawn the parallel to TLATO's favorite movie of all time, The Wizard of Oz. My work is done. Except, perhaps to point out the obvious; the Wizard, the man behind the curtain is none other than Stephen Harper.

As his good buddy, George W. might say, "Nice job, Steve-o!"

But wait; there's more! Here’s something really far-fetched to consider. At some point in the coming months, there will be another general election. Let me posit this ridiculous notion. What if the coalition government does a fantastic job. At the polls would the choices be: (a) Liberal; (b) NDP; (c) Conservative; or, (d) all of the above?

Limp leftist Liberals and Socialist NDP'ers and barely disguised Reformers. Oh, my!

Inevitable? Probably...

Police say a worker, a contract security person at a Wal-Mart store in Long Island, New York, has died after being trampled by a throng of unruly shoppers.

It apparently occurred shortly after the store opened at 5 a.m. on so-called Black Friday (November 28, 2008), the traditional start of the holiday sales rush in the United States. Officials say several other people were injured in the incident.

It would appear that Nassau County police say the 34-year-old worker was taken to hospital where he was pronounced dead at about 6 a.m. The exact cause of death has yet to be determined. Really? News flash -- it probably was not a cough due to cold!

A 28-year-old pregnant woman was taken to a hospital for observation, and three other shoppers suffered minor injuries and were also taken to hospitals in the vicinity.

A police statement stated that shortly after 5 a.m., a throng of shoppers “physically broke down the doors, knocking [the worker] to the ground.”

Officials at Wal-Mart Stores Inc. in Bentonville, Arkansas, refused to confirm the reports of a stampede, but said a “medical emergency” had caused the company to close the store, which is in Valley Stream on Long Island. “Local authorities are looking into the situation,” said Wal-Mart representative Dan Fogleman. He said it would be “inappropriate for me to share any additional information” until authorities investigate further.

OK, so the running of the bulls in Pamplona, there is an expectation of injury - perhaps even death.

Working at a Wal-Mart, anywhere... death by rampaging likely grossly overweight bargain hunting Long Island residents? Wow...

By the way... do you think that Wal-Mart may quietly decide to change their slogan? See above, it reads, "Save money. Live better". I'm guessing that the family of the unfortunate soul that was crushed might have something to say about that privately and publicly since crazed bargain hunting shoppers terminated the life of a likely minimum wage employee.

The very premise of Black Friday is a recipe for disaster. Here, north of the Mason Dixon line we have our own retail ballyhoo to deal with traditionally on December 26th. It's called Boxing Day. And no, it has nothing to do with a Mike Tyson rematch.

People dying to save a few dollars. Truly tragic.

As that renowned philosopher from Los Angeles, Rodney King once said, "Can't we all just get along?"

Foreplay is always preferable...

At the time of writing, the price on the open market for a barrel of light sweet crude oil was $52.33; a vast improvement over previous rates - in fact, at one point during the month of June 2008, a barrel was selling for slightly more than $147.00.

OK, so there have been marked improvements of late.

I'm still at a loss regarding the apparent “shortage” of oil months ago. Has anything truly changed in the interim? The US is still raging an impossible war in Iraq; other western nations are involved in "peace keeping" initiatives in Afghanistan. So, why the reduction of around 60%?

Here's the thing. Have gas prices reduced by anywhere near the same ratio? Short answer; no.

This past Sunday, here in rural Ontario, a local gas station was selling a litre of gasoline for $0.733. A bargain, relatively speaking. I got quite excited since the night before, driving into Toronto, I had filled up for $0.745 a litre. Note to city folk; prices up here for gasoline are often 3 - 6 cents a litre better on regular!

Prices should, however, still be lower.

Our home is heated by oil. And yes, we've seen the price of oil come down these last few months, too. Heating our home and, in our case, hot water, is not a luxury. It's a necessity of life. My 910 litre tank was filled two days ago with 755.5 litres of oil. At a rate of $0.919 per litre. When I saw our bill, I was pleased - and simultaneously angry. Why is the price of home heating oil still way higher than gasoline? I understand that processing for both products is required. But why such a discrepancy?

I even conducted my own mini-survey on the phone yesterday. Seems when compared to those providers I contacted, our supplier was $0.02 more per litre.

Please... kiss me first - and don't blame everything on the Middle East.

To friends in Europe - I know, your prices are considerably higher.

To friends in the US, your prices are lower still - and that's using gasoline that Canada has sold to you!

One man's dream...

On August 28, 1963, a great and inspiring American, Dr. Martin Luther King made his historic speech in Washington.

Here is an excerpt...

I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

And so it was, November 4, 2008, more than 45 years later, Dr. King's dream was realized. A tall, slim, earnest man, the son of an inter-racial marriage, Barack Obama, made history. He is the United States of America's 44th President; he is the first President of colour.

At the end of the day, many of us believe that he was the right man - at the right time. His colour? Not really a factor. It was his ideas; his energy; his charisma; his beliefs that overcame electoral adversity and made believers the world over. This man has an opportunity over the next four years, perhaps the next eight, to bring about major change to the USA specifically, but even to the world.

This will not be easy. It will be an uphill battle. There is much to overcome. America is in a recession. They are fighting a war that, like Vietnam before, they have no hope of "winning".

Yet today, the world seemed to wake up with a new feeling. It was hope. It was optimism.

Last night history was made. Today and this day forward, we all, each of us no matter where we are or what we do, have the ability to ensure that by working together, we can pull through and prevail.

We all deserve better. But it is not entitlement; it is earned.

C'mon in... the water's, er, shallow???

In a recent interview with People magazine, the Republican parties Vice Presidential candidate appeared to out-Palinate herself.

Hard to believe, but true, I'm afraid.

As most of us are aware, Sarah Palin and her husband, potential First Dude, Todd, have five children. Palin claimed that if she and Dude were to have had a sixth child, they already had a name picked out. To refresh memories, here are the names of her brood - to date: Track; Bristol; Willow; Piper; and, Trig. "I always wanted a son named Zamboni."

No, I'm not making this up. These things almost write themselves.

Zamboni.

Naming a kid after an ice resurfacing machine.

Nice. Although this may well corroborate her claim to being a true hockey Mom.

Not only that, in this same interview, Caribou Barbie considers herself intellectual. Remember, this is the same woman who, when pressed by that heavyweight journo, Katie Couric to name a single newspaper or magazine she read, she was unable to.

Now she states she is a "voracious reader"... One can only wonder what she reads these days - other than Reader's Digest versions of briefing papers.

An intellectual. And another hapless child named Zamboni.

Like I said, the potential depth of this gene pool might represent a shallow tide pool - regrettably frozen over in the Alaskan tundra.

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

Here we are. The calendar tells me that today is Tuesday, October 21, 2008.

And yet I drove an hour or so ago from the Newmarket area back to home base through snow. Yes, that's right, snow!

Now to those of you south of the 49th parallel or across the pond, you likely think that it always snows where me and TLATO live. Not hardly. We expect snow, sure, but really not until December or thereabouts. Not now.

Two days ago I was still dealing with cleaning up leaves and now I have to make a call to our friendly neighbourhood snow plow guy to remind him we wish to be under contract again this winter.

People, winter is not supposed to be officially here until December - the 21st, to be precise. The clocks have yet to go back.

I knew that all those pine trees, their boughs weighed down with pine cones and the cedars and Mountain Ash trees that have been laden with fruit these past few weeks were giving us advance notice; it's going to be a long winter ahead.

Not too much that we can do about it - except to make an appointment to have our all season tires and rims removed and replaced with the ugly black steel rims and snow tires. And soon.

Joe who?

OK, just to clear up any misconceptions, this has little to do with the Canadian political landscape. Sorry to disappoint any Canadian political junkies out there, but this has absolutely nothing to do with Joe Clark, a now well-respected Canadian political statesman who while relatively young and politically inexperienced, became the butt of editorial cartoonists across this land and so, "Joe Who?" as he was dubbed by the Toronto Star, was born. Clark's best statement during his career? “A recession is when your neighbour loses his job. A depression is when you lose your job. Recovery is when Pierre Trudeau loses his job.”

I digress.

Seems as if south of the 49th parallel, members of the Republican party, particularly Presidential hopeful, John McCain and his Caribou Barbie sidekick, Sarah Palin, have claimed the first name of "Joe" as the leading given name in their rhetoric-filled vocabulary. Palin, you may recall, introduced the world to the notion of "Joe Six-Pack" as a description of an average American male (note: not all American males are obese and have a drinking problem). McCain in the early stages of the final Presidential debate of 2008, brought forth the character of "Joe, the Plumber" who, after 26 mentions (five for Obama and 21 by McCain) during the 90-minute debate, gained near legend status within 24 hours of his induction into the US Wall of Shame.

Once again, it soon became apparent that McCain and his handlers had not delved under the covers to find out a little more about this fellow - sound familiar, Sarah Palin? In every day life, “Joe” is Samuel Joseph Wurzelbacher, a resident of Holland, Ohio. He claims to be a plumber - yet he has no license or papers and brashly claims he does not need one. “Not so”, says David Golis, manager and residential building official for the Toledo Division of Building Inspection. In fact, the Association of Plumbers, Steamfitters and Service Mechanics revealed that Wurzelbacher was not a licensed member of their trade. Golis went on to state that "Joe" should also be a licensed apprentice or journeyman to work in Toledo, Ohio - and he's not.

McCain eagerly stated that under Senator Obama's proposed tax plans, a budding entrepreneur like "Joe" would be taxed more if his company's annual revenues exceeded $ 250,000.00. Seems Joe has plans to buy this plumbing business from his employer "some day". Obama has stated clearly on more than one occasion that small business revenue of $ 250,000.00 and down, would continue to be taxed at the current rate of 36%. Anything greater, would be taxed at 39%.

So, if "Joe" somehow had the financing in place to buy this business (according to his 2006 tax return, filed as a matter of public record due to a divorce, he claimed an income in the mid $ 40's), he would need to be licensed. That may present problems since "Joe" has also not completed the training program necessary to sit the examination for a license test.

McCain’s exuberance to present a "gotcha" on Obama may well backfire and the victim could well be "Joe". This fellow even owes back taxes - which should be of no real consequence here. McCain's, one might argue, well intended framing of "Joe" as an average future business owner has placed "Joe" front and centre in the public's eye. A position I'm betting he personally wished he was not in. He and his employer may find themselves under most unwelcome scrutiny; something, at the outset, no one imagined would be the result of yet another Republican "shout out".

Democrats claim that this individual could not possibly have enough income to face a tax increase under the Obama plan. What they perhaps were unaware was McCain’s tongue-in-cheek statement during a speech at a benefit/fund raiser in New York City yesterday evening: “Joe, the plumber, recently signed a very lucrative contract with a wealthy couple to handle all the (plumbing) work on all seven of their houses.” McCain was referring to his own personal property holdings.

Who knows, John. Your actions may leave “Joe” unemployed and you on the moral hook for the welfare of the Wurzelbacher family. But then again, that would reduce your personal tax bill since you would have additional dependents.

And the rich continue to get richer.

©Andy Donato, Sun Media

Things do happen in threes...

Readers of this blog will be aware of two recent incidents that me and my "truck", a 2008 Nissan Rogue has experienced over the last two weeks:

1. A mishap in the parking lot of Costco in Peterborough; and,


2. Above vehicle being tagged and towed a week later in Toronto.

You'll recall the saying that "bad things usually occur in threes"?

Well, here we go.

On Sunday, while backing out our driveway, the truck was making some very strange noises - sounding awfully like a man with severe prostate problems, groaning with the effort of attempting to pee - or not.

These same noises could also be heard when the vehicle was travelling forward and a hard turn was made.

Earlier today at TransCanada Nissan, I described those same symptoms to Dean Bosnell the Service Manager. Dean being Dean, did not react one way or the other to my description, not even an "I'll humour you" smile.

Up went the vehicle on a hoist. The underside was examined thoroughly; all four wheels were removed (should have brought in my snow tires); brakes were checked, etc. Nothing.

Everyone even cheerfully and readily admitted that all the shop's techs could hear the car groaning and moaning.

After each methodical check, the truck was then driven to determine if the vehicle was still under duress. Affirmative each time. They even had wires attached to various parts of the chassis and the tech was listening to the car "speak" through headphones.

To no avail.

Finally a decision was made to order and install a new differential. Did not make me feel any better to hear everyone at the dealership state that they had never heard any vehicle express itself in such a way ever before.

Lucky me.

The end to a perfect day?

"Meter" parking across the street from Toronto office...... $3.46

Cab ride and tip to 10 York Street, Toronto...... $16.50

Parking ticket issued by the City of Toronto...... $60.00

Bailing car out of vehicle impound, 10 York Street...... $147.00

Having my car towed from in front of my Toronto office Thursday afternoon... frickin' expensive.

Footnote: seems as if there is a possibility of fighting some of this. I have a disabled permit (due to hip replacement a while back) that was on prominent display and does not expire until November 7, 2008). I'll keep you posted.

Back to the future? Not a chance...

It’s happened to me many times before.

I’m sure that many of you have experienced a similar loss too, on occasion.

It can be downright annoying, frustrating even when it occurs, but what are you going to do? It’s a part of life. Suck it up and get on with it.

Yesterday I lost a half hour of my life I will never get back.

TLATO et moi were in Toronto for the better part of the day. We drove in early to meet at Sheryl’s Mum’s condo. We were to meet her two brothers and their family’s. From there we were all driving to a nearby cemetery where Joe, Sheryl’s Dad and nephew, Dylan had been laid to rest.

A family visit to gravesites prior to Yom Kippur, the day of atonement is a tradition observed by Jews regardless of their degree of practicing Judaism. Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to observe various facets of this religion as Sheryl’s family have shared traditions and holidays; it all goes to broadening perspectives, something more of us might consider in the pursuit of our hopes and dreams.

After spending some time at both graves celebrating the lives of both men, we all returned to Sheryl’s Mums’ house. Janette and her husband George are always gracious hosts and in true tradition, went overboard in ensuring that all their guests were well fed and watered before they themselves sat down to eat. The time passed all too quickly; it’s not too often we all get together like this, but when it happens, it’s a raucous occasion, to be sure. Lots of laughter, some tears and then more laughter.

The time came for us to leave. The house was quiet for an hour or so prior to our departure so we could spend some “quality” time with George and Janette. Leftovers were wrapped, hugs exchanged, “I love yous” uttered and we were off.

After about 10 minutes in the car, TLATO decided to call Nancy; Nancy was looking in on Ben during the day to let him out to take care of business while we were away. All was well, and Sheryl told Nancy we should be home in about 90 minutes.

Now, for those of you that may both be familiar with the following fact, Sheryl is one of those individuals that can be directionally challenged; it’s a family thing, too by all accounts.

So, we get off the highway and are now driving on some beautiful country roads. The colours, although likely not quite at their peak were outstanding, the weather not too bad. All in all, pretty good conditions for a Sunday drive.

Approaching a familiar (to me) point in the road, Sheryl decided she would like to go a different way. A way, she said, she had not been. How prophetic. Not only was it unfamiliar to both of us, I believe that the great Canadian explorer, Jacques Cartier would have been hard-pressed to find himself had he too followed our route. For the record, we were driving Sheryl’s car – no navigation system and a broken compass.

We continued east on this road. Sheryl soon realized we had, indeed, driven this route before. However, instead of turning right which would have taken us onto an oft-travelled road, Sheryl decided that we should bear left. Now, at this point I could have said no and things would have been relatively OK. I did not. Why escapes me even today. So we headed what we assumed was north (overcast, much tree cover so a navigational mistake could have been made). On we drove. “Turn left here”. “Go straight”. This went on for about ten minutes. I was aware that I had no clue where we were. I had a rough idea, but that was it. We had not seen another car in some time. The roads were occasionally country dirt roads. When we did see any houses, they looked like something where the Peacock family from X-Files might have lived. I started humming the familiar refrain from “Deliverance” and locked all the doors as we continued on our journey.

“So,” I said. “Panicking yet?”

“Only on the inside, “ she responded quietly nervously folding and unfolding a map.

We drove though a few small villages that were not mentioned on any map. Nothing looked even vaguely familiar. I suggested that Nancy might be called again; we might not get home to let Ben out for some time yet.

Surprisingly enough, I remained, for me, relatively civil throughout all this. I never even raised my voice. I made it clear, however, that it would be a cold day in hell before I listened to directions from her again.

From out of nowhere we saw a small, twisted shotgun-pellet peppered sign that had a name we both recognized. All was not lost. The sun broke through the clouds. We could now determine the direction we were travelling. North and east. Perfect. Within a few minutes, we both recognized some of the surrounding landmarks. There would be no search party this day.

The detour had not really taken us much out of our way. It had, as I alluded earlier, removed a half hour from my existence which I would never regain.

“Why did you listen to me?” Sheryl almost pleaded, expecting the maelstrom that ordinarily might be sent in her general direction from my oft bitter-tongued mouth. But today, there would be none of that. I decided to add this to the life ledger; save it for another time when it would be needed. That was not today.

The detour did have one adverse effect… I had to pee like a race horse and home and civilization was still a good half hour away. A country pit stop was called for and made. And TLATO said nothing. Not a darned thing.

Nothing good can come from shopping...

October 2, 2008 is a date that will be remembered in Taylor family history.

Not so much because of the political debates on either side of the border, but it was the day when the new Costco store opened in Peterborough. This opening has been eagerly awaited by most that live in the immediate trading area for quite some time. In fact, TLATO had gone as far as to say that the only thing that was missing for her in the Kawarthas was a Costco.

For those of you who may not be familiar with the name… “Costco is the largest membership warehouse club in the world, dedicated to bringing our members the best possible prices on quality brand-name merchandise. With hundreds of locations worldwide, Costco provides a wide selection of merchandise, plus the convenience of specialty departments and exclusive member services, all designed to make your shopping experience a pleasurable one.”

OK. How many of you picked up on that last phrase, “…make your shopping experience a pleasurable one”?

In truth, the shopping experience was not unpleasant. It’s what occurred in the parking lot after the fact that made the experience, for me, at least, memorable and none too pleasant.

We’ve experienced large bills when shopping at other Costco locations in the past. Likely the most expensive one, before yesterday, was a shopping stock up expedition that also involved the purchase and installation of tires for Sheryl’s car. Michelins, I might add.

I digress.

Because this was grand opening day, it was, to many, a big deal. Me, not so much. Sheryl and Nancy had been looking forward to this day for what seemed forever. They were like kids counting down Christmas Day. You could almost hear the Carly Simon penned song, “Anticipation” playing over and over.

Even as my truck was loaded with all sorts of goods, they were still talking excitedly. In the car, it continued. Sheryl laughed. A very loud laugh. My right ear drum was partially paralyzed as it continued to resonate. I looked over at both women and gave my best “Quiet!” face – without actually saying anything. I started the car. The “twittering” continued. I looked at my rear view mirror. Checked both side mirrors. Looked over my right shoulder as I put the vehicle into gear and slowly moved back.

It’s hard to describe the sound when two objects with a combined weight of around 4 tons collide with one another. It’s a sound not soon to be forgotten.

“What the…” I exclaimed.

The angle was such an odd one that even at that moment, I could still not see what had been hit. I moved the vehicle forward and climbed from the truck, looking back at what was apparently a 2005 Chevy Uplander. His damage was on the driver’s side rear bumper – completely caved in. My 2008 Rogue, on the surface, barely a scratch, but there were some marks on the vinyl/plastic bumper again on the driver’s side and the left tail light had also been damaged.

As I walked toward the damaged mini-van, the other driver stepped out and moved towards me. He, too, was shaking his head. Turns out, he and his wife decided to come to the big opening and were leaving the parking lot at precisely the same time. He did not see me backing up either. Seems as if we had a perfect accident. Neither one of us could see the other party due to our respective vehicles’ blind spot.

Insurance information was exchanged and apologies were made and mutual blame was accepted. We were both at fault. The accident occurred on a private lot. No one was injured. Only pride was bruised.

Within 10 minutes of the incident, we were driving home.

You could have heard a pin drop. The silence in my truck was practically deafening.

Neither Nancy nor Sheryl could bring themselves to speak. And when it was attempted, without saying as much, my facial expression clearly stated that no further talking should occur in this car for quite some time.

Earlier this morning, the 3rd, I took my car into town to get an estimate for the damage incurred. In the grand scheme of things, it was not too bad. Here in Ontario with our no fault insurance system, it actually makes sense to pay for the damage out of pocket without incurring the potential consequence of a debilitating at fault accident within the next six years.

It’s illegal to drive without insurance. But, when over the years you have paid thousand and thousands of dollars for a moment just like this, there is reluctance to make that claim since it may place you in jeopardy for the future. Not a position I wish to be in. So, like just about everyone else who finds themselves in this similar situation, you smile through clenched teeth, write a cheque and then go along for the ride - literally.

Hoping that no obstacles are in the way.

Winkin', blinkin' ... and Todd?

Unless you have "been doing a Saddam" and hiding in a spider hole these last few days, yesterday evening, October 2, the North American Continent had two political debates on National television.

Here in Canada, as I stated in an earlier post, I believe that the majority of Canadians who were looking for an evening’s entertainment, watched all or part of the US Vice-Presidential debate from St. Louis, MO as opposed to the Canadian English-language leaders’ debate from Ottawa, ON.

While the VP debate was not the anticipated train wreck, early on, I had a sense of things to come when Governor Palin, turning to Senator Biden said,”I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear, but I'm going to talk straight to the American people and let them know my track record also."

And so it was.

While Palin’s handlers are to be commended for the job they did in the days leading up to the debate, it soon became obvious that she was not as well briefed on some things as others. Her record on the national energy issue was trotted out so often that it was becoming as tired of being presented as we were in hearing it – regardless of the questions proffered by the moderator, Gwen Ifill, whom, I do not believe did a particularly stellar job in handling Palin that evening.

Let’s get back to her just-plain-folks approach to this debate. If I were a middle-class American parent, I would be very resentful of Palin's comments regarding "Joe six-pack” and hockey moms. She is suggesting that only Mothers do the parenting thing with their children while the fathers sit at home drinking their beer. Fortunately, there are many families in America where both partners take parenting very seriously. Unfortunately for the NHL, but fortunately for the US and the rest of us, there are not enough hockey moms to get Governor Palin elected to office.

Do Americans really want a VP who will speak with world leaders using home-spun homilies and speeches loaded down with colloquialisms such as "you betcha", “we’re gonna”, “go get’em” and "doggone"? Oh, right, George W. – and he is President!

And, the Palin train really veered off the tracks when Palin suspended the debate for a few seconds to send a, “Shout out to the 3rd graders at Gladys Wood Elementary School…” Excuse me? Shout-outs to 3rd graders are performed by weathermen during the local news, not something that happens in a very important political debate. It was not at all endearing.

Let me present a scenario: what if Obama/Biden lost (note, I cannot bring my self to state McCain/Palin win)? McCain, shortly after assuming the Presidency, takes gravely ill and dies. VP Palin steps into the role as commander-in-chief. Stepping up to the podium for her first Presidential news conference, a switch is flicked in a backroom somewhere and the TelePrompTer in her glasses commences to run…

“Todd and I are just so gosh darn sorry that Senator, er, President McCain passed on. Heck, we were at Sniper’s, er, Piper’s soccer practice when me and Todd were told John had kicked the bucket! Anyhoo, my first order of business, I’m gonna get on the phone today and talk to that funny little man from North Korean, King John Eel, an’ I’m gonna tell him to just back off, buddy. No one likes a bully! Stop your new-cue-leer testin’ an’ such. Todd! Get me my Visine. I just can’t stop goldurn blinkin’ and winkin’!"

A possible heartbeat from doomsday. Anyone remember Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove?

Must we continue to reward mediocrity?

You have to know that when anything starts off “With all due respect…” you know that there’s going to be a zinger or two.

This entry definitely supports that position.

So, without further ado, here we go.

With all due respect to both Mr. David Peterson and Ms. Jagoda Pike, capable individuals in their own right, can these optimists really continue to put a glass-half-full spin on the latest attempt to bring a potentially economically debilitating world-class sporting event, the 2015 Pan American Games, to the region?

As Canadians, why do we continue to reward apparent mediocrity? Mr. Peterson, in his leadership role failed three times to bring major sporting extravaganzas to the area; Ms. Pike, two. In fairness, Peterson was one of the cast of “thousands” who were successful in bringing an NBA franchise to the city. Ms. Pike is a very well respected newspaper business executive with strong family values.

Some background for those unfamiliar with either individual.

Ms. Pike is publisher of the Toronto Star and president of Star Media Group. She is also an alumna of Trinity College in the University of Toronto and the Osgoode School of Law. Effective October 4, 2008, Ms. Pike will step down as publisher of the Toronto Star and assume the role of heading Ontario's bid for the 2015 Pan Am Games. Ms. Pike joined Torstar Corporation in 1986. During her tenure, Ms. Pike has held a broadly diverse portfolio of key leadership positions, affording her a unique perspective on all aspects of Torstar’s newspaper publishing operations. Fair enough.

David Robert Peterson, PC and QC was the twentieth Premier of the Province of Ontario, Canada, from June 26, 1985 to October 1, 1990. He was the first Liberal premier of Ontario in 42 years. On September 5, 1990, the day of a snap Provincial election, Peterson even lost his own seat, having been resoundingly defeated by NDP candidate Marion Boyd in London Centre by over 8,200 votes. It is almost unheard of for a provincial Premier to be unseated in his own riding. The loss ended Peterson's political career. He announced his resignation as Liberal leader on the night of the election, and formally resigned as premier on October 1, 1990. Going into the election, the Liberals stood at 50% support in the polls. Peterson himself had a 54% approval rating. There were, of course, mitigating circumstances that contributed to the downfall of Peterson’s government. Ironically, the party that came to power, the NDP, was led by Bob Rae – now a senior contender to the federal Liberal throne. Talk about bad timing all round. Peterson also was a previous leader in the failed charge to secure the Olympics for Toronto – on two separate occasions.

Is a successful bid the only thing that will bring much needed improvements to the regions, specifically Toronto's rapidly deteriorating infrastructure?

That being the case, as voters, should we not be doing more with our elected officials in both Ottawa and Queens Park where our tax dollars are controlled? Remember, there is a Federal election here in Canada on October 14.

Think of the overall cost in manpower and dollars behind this latest effort. At the moment, the numbers being thrown around to successfully mount this event are this: cost to all levels of government for all “known” construction, etc. is conservatively pegged at $1.77 billion. Published projections for the positive economic impact for the area are coming in at $2 billion and the creation of 17,000 jobs and may attract an estimated 250,000 tourists. Note to self: this is 2008; the Games are in 2015. Just how far off can all these estimates be at the end of the day? In truth, I am uncertain if these numbers are based upon today’s declining dollar values or a future rate. Remember, there is no mention of overruns, shortfalls and all the usual baggage associated with any capital project. Granted, much of those dollars may come from the private sector, but will this then escalate into a bidding war for naming rights on new facilities and improved transportation – for example, Suncor's Transit Commission, anyone?

Is it just me? At this time in a vicious downturn for this continent’s economic cycle, are there not better ways of investing dollars? Ms. Pike is quoted as saying, “Parents know that investment in sporting facilities is badly needed, especially if Ontario wants to nurture athletes of national and international calibre. If we're going to encourage kids to be active, you have to give them somewhere to be active in. You have to inspire them. You have to actually give them a place to be the best. My view is that you can't develop children without developing them both intellectually and physically. There's so much good that could come out of this."

Yeah, but… we have some pretty terrific facilities right now – and still we have many lethargic, obese kids sitting watching videos and updating their profiles on social networks – anything to avoid physical activity. How will this change? Is this not an issue for the examination of better parenting perhaps, not about domed velodromes?

To make it clear, I’m really not opposing this bid. I’m just asking folks to take a step back and examine just why this is so damned important at this time.

Avert your eyes - if you can...

Here in North America, there are two elections occurring within a matter of a few weeks.

In Canada, October 14 is the day Canadians will drag their generally apathetic selves to the polls to participate in an election many see as a waste of time and tax payer dollars.

On November 4, south of the border, our US compatriots will be voting. Some argue that there is the potential for the largest turn out in recent memory. It is an important election. More so these days with the threat of the US economy teetering on the edge of a precipice and potential disaster.

The evening of Thursday, October 2 there will be two televised political debates.

In Canada, there will be an English language debate between Harper, Dion, Layton, Duceppe and May. Please note, Wednesday evening will be the French language debate. These debates are intended to help Canadians determine which party they wish to see running the country for the next four years. Some already predict a Harper majority; others a Harper minority. At least that much is relatively clear.

South of the 49th parallel, two Americans will square off; Biden and Palin. Both are on their respective party’s tickets as prospective vice-presidents or, in the event ill health or other unfortunate circumstances befall the commander-in-chief, will step into the shoes of the leader of, some might argue, the most powerful nation on this planet.

I've been know to place a wager or two in my day; I'll make a statement right now. I'll put money that in Canada, more Canadians will tune into the US VP debate at some point in the evening over the Canadian debate. Also, more viewers, in total, will watch part or all of the US VP debate than watched the two Presidential candidates square off last week.

As much as people will deny it, we all want to see a train wreck on occasion - at least the type where there is no obvious physical damage to the parties involved. No one wants literal blood. But the prospect of abject humiliation over definite boredom will win the day.

Just my $0.02 worth.

The things that we all do...

If you're married or in a long term relationship where a single household is shared, you'll understand.

A few short hours ago, just before Sheryl returned from her Tai-Chi class and lunch, I turned on the furnace. The outside temperature was reading 52 degrees (Fahrenheit) and inside the homestead, the thermostat was hovering around 62.

Now, if it was strictly up to me, additional heat would not be pumped through the house for a few more weeks. A fire could be built and then natural heat would circulate through parts of the house. A little too much work for my liking. Our animals, all long haired, also prefer the cooler temperatures, Ben especially. But TLATO seems to have water in her veins and even in our sweltering summers, has been known to drive around in her car with the air conditioning on - while sitting on a heated seat!

The "Don't you find it cold?" comments started last week. Followed by the occasional snipe,"Val and Nancy turned on their furnaces a week ago, you know."

So, while she was out, I decided that I would do well to enjoy some relative peace and quiet (for an hour or two if I'm lucky) and flicked the switch.

I may, however, have the last laugh! This situation could now be a bigger and grander version of driving the car with the low gas light on. A "typical male" thing, I'm led to believe.

You see, our oil tank (remember, we live in the country) is registering practically empty. Back in April, I had $300 of oil added to an empty tank (yes, it really was empty), but that while definitely another story, was truly not my fault. But David, you say, how could you use oil over the summer? Simple. Our hot water heater is oil fired.

I have no idea when our fuel provider is scheduled to come into this area and fill our 900-litre oil tank. And, given the price of oil, I'm not too keen to get a major $ 1,000 plus hit on a refill. Good news there, though (amazing what we now consider good, isn't it?): the price of a barrel of oil fell by more than $10 today.

So... anyone out there care to place a bet?

No, not on our marriage, but on whether our tank is filled before we run out!

Caribou Barbie... so hard to resist...

Sorry folks, but I'm afraid that I just had to jump on the political bandwagon something I usually care not to do, but like I said, I cannot resist. Resistance really is futile.

While the Federal election here in Canada is pretty dull, the situation south of our border (and north and west) is downright titillating by comparison!

I'm referring specifically to John McCain's choice of running mate, Sarah Palin, the Governor of Alaska. I'm not going to belabour the point but after watching part of the real interview between Katie Couric and then SNL brought back the brilliant Tina Fey to reprise her Palin caricature, I succumbed.

For a few weeks now, the name "Caribou Barbie" has been circulating as a none-too-complimentary description of Palin.

Quite fitting, given the woman apparently can field dress a moose! Heck, I would have difficulty attempting that on a mouse, never mind something the size of a 1960's-era Buick.

I love the image to the right which, by all accounts comes with everything you see here:

- A dead Caribou
- An M-16 rifle
- A snowmobile; and,
- Sexy librarian glasses

She even talks with such fun phrases like:

- "I'm a pit bull with lipstick!"
- "My family is off-limits!"
- "What is it the Vice President actually does?"
- "I can see Russia from my house!"

Imagine the money to be made if McCain succeeds in his run for the White House? And in a unique licensing deal, Palin and Mattel will make a frickin' fortune.

And Palin will be a heartbeat away from that big red button...

Who then, will have the last laugh?

Sad day in our house...

Last week, September 25th to be precise, marked two years since the passing of our beloved Bernese Mountain Dog, Ozzie.

The day that it occurred, I was unable to go with Sheryl to the vet. 10 days previous, I had undergone surgery to replace my left hip. I was under doctor's orders not to move around. 45 staples saw to that.

A hospital bed was set up in our family room. My goodbyes were said as he placed his dinner plate sized front paws on me and rested his huge head on my chest. He seemed to know. Yet he handled things so much better than I did. No words, just a very deep affection - a bond that other animal owners and some parents will comprehend.

Sheryl along with the assistance of two good friends, Nancy and Val, managed to get our 140lb Ozzie into the back of Sheryl's car to take him to the vet - one last time.

I felt utterly helpless.

We knew for months this day would come. Since his diagnosis with Osteosarcoma, Oz had continued to be a part of our family for almost 10 months. We did all we could to make him as comfortable as possible. Pet insurance ran out almost 9 months previous. But, as any parent will tell you, it really does not matter. It’s not about the money. Cancer is an insidious, vicious disease and can be an expensive one, at that.

Our vet, Jeff Simmons, had spoken to us often and told us that when the day arrived, we would know. He was right. Oz never "complained". The obvious tumour was, at the end, very large and looked painful and uncomfortable. Yet our gentle giant would never show that he was in any way, distressed.

Sheryl and I could not really speak with one another for days after that. Neither of us knew what to say. We were all hurting. Our cats missed him. To this day, if I ever play a brief video we have of him, Rocky, our big red and white cat, starts running through the house, crying as he looks for his friend.

A few months after Ozzie's death, we were lucky enough to find Ben, our second Berner. Same breeder, different blood lines. A different dog in so many ways. Not better. Absolutely not worse. Different. Plain and simple.

Within the first days of Ben being introduced into our home, Sheryl sat down quietly with our new tri-coloured barrel of fur. She and Ben made an agreement. He would be with us for at least 11 years. She wanted double digits. Unusual in giant breeds, but not impossible. Sheryl sensed that Ben was special. He had something different within.

Now, when I occasionally play the Ozzie video, Ben will come running into my office and will sit, head cocked to one side. Waiting. He will not bark. Just looks around with those huge dark eyes, waiting for someone he never knew.

Shoot me now...

Uncertain if it was something I ate or drank yesterday.

Could be related to a change in the weather - barometric pressure, don't you know.

At 3.13amEST, I was jarred awake from a restless sleep with a searing and simultaneous pounding headache. A migraine.

If you suffer with this unfortunate affliction, you'll know what I'm talking about. If you don't (and I do have one friend who in his almost six decades on this planet has never experienced a single headache - and he and his wife raised four sons, two of whom were twins), you may not really understand! And that’s OK.

I have experienced this delightful interruption to one's life since I was a baby. As a child I routinely went through batteries of ridiculous tests and the diagnosis was invariably the same, "Mrs. Taylor, the wee bugger has migraines!"

When you're a kid, you really do not understand what's going on. All you really know is that someone, please, needs to stop this pain, and now. I also perfected the art of the projectile vomit and, with experience, could even, on demand it appeared, spew forth at specific angles and arcs with varying degrees of velocity. To my siblings and friends, I was an unheralded wonder of the world.

I really tried not to let them take over my life. I did not want to be relegated to the same "category" as the unfortunate kid with asthma. So, best I could, I endured. Until I started puking violently or came close to collapsing. My eyes would sink into my head. Specific smells would make me nauseas. Light would act like a laser beam to my eyes. Cold, dark rooms would offer limited solace. And yes, I have driven home on occasion with the car’s air conditioning blasting while wearing prescription sunglasses and squint to one side while negotiating my way home.

Medication wise, nothing really seems to touch them. It’s a matter of time. I’ve even been sent home from a hospital’s Emergency Department after being shot up with morphine and Demerol, to the point that any more medication might kill me. And they wanted me to drive!

Fortunately, as I get older, the frequency has reduced drastically. My Mum and Dad also went through these “things” and now, rarely experience that familiar, sweet pain.

So, perhaps there’s hope for me on this front after all. One day, I’ll be headache pain free. For now, however, would someone please make it go away?

Can't we all just get along...?

Watched a movie we had recorded on the PVR last night. American History X.

On an evening when for many, the highlight was likely the Emmys, this was a powerful, harrowing, thought-provoking and quite sad commentary on so many things on so many levels. Primarily about American family life, cause and effect and the relatively rapid descent into hell after a thoughtless random act removes the family patriarch.

Hard to believe this was released 10 years ago. It was one of those movies I had always said that I wanted to see; not necessarily at the local megaplex, but at home, without any distractions.

Not a film that you would recommend for its entertainment value -- because there was absolutely none. But if you peel away the layers of despair, lack of hope and yes, some pretty brutal violence, it is a well-acted story. While the ending was not entirely unexpected, it certainly was not trite.

How many families like the Vinyards exist - and not just in the US, but everywhere? Do you know of any? Chances are, you might. Perhaps not a direct comparative; perhaps not where flagrant racism exists, but where there is a sense of being off a half step or so. Look at this story; what age were Derek and Danny when their father showed his true colours?

Pass the salt... please!

There's an interesting article in today's Globe and Mail about a camp for kids where they learn how to ace a private-school interview, make witty dinner conversation with Mom's boss and eat bacon with a fork.

Reading it earlier took me back to Scotland, many years ago during my formative years. We were not, by any stretch of the imagination, a family of wealth. I was the eldest of six siblings. Four sisters and one brother. There was a 12-year span between eldest and youngest.

While most meals involved a great deal of carbs (bread and potatoes) due to economic circumstances, we were still expected to eat "properly". In fact, there used to be a running "table manners" competition, the winner getting the equivalent of a quarter at the end of a week.

Our parents expected us to speak when spoken to and not interrupt any conversation unless there was an emergency; we had to close our mouths while chewing; never speak with food in our mouths; always ate soup with the spoon away from the body - and never slurped, etc.

Once in a very rare while we were taken to a restaurant. We all did the best we could not to embarrass ourselves or our parents while eating out and would smile as we heard other patrons whisper how well behaved we were.

Did it do us any harm? None. It was a part of our education. Life lessons.

Today, I can, on occasion, eat practically anywhere I choose. I cannot begin to tell you of the appalling table manners I continue to witness from many supposed young ladies and gentlemen; sprawling over the table, waving cutlery, spattering guests and patrons with their Osso Buco while saving the world, talking on their mobile phones. And please, don't get me started on insensitive louts who sit down at a table, at home or any restaurant where their sports cap du jour remains firmly planted on their heads. There are some folks whose religious beliefs make this a matter of principal. Fine. But the vast majority are just being plain rude and boorish.

I think that more should be done to educate our kids on how to behave in public and at a table. There is nothing opulent, snobby or elitist about that.

Our stewards for the future must learn what's right, what's expected... and what is most definitely not.

Uh, oh...!

The other morning, TLATO said she wanted to go to the Peterborough Sport and Wellness Centre to use their therapy pool. She wanted a little exercise and the use of the whirlpool.

I declined; I’m there at least five times per week and felt like a day off. Besides, a double espresso and the morning’s newspaper were demanding my attention.

So Sheryl headed into town and I made my way out to one of our decks with my coffee and the paper.

The tranquility of the morning was interrupted by the pteradactyl-like squawk from a Blue Heron, fishing off our dock. Nothing that my soon to be relaxed state of mind could not deal with.

A while later as I was finishing the last section of the paper, Sheryl returned home. She came out onto the deck, giggling.

“How was your swim? Were there many people this morning?”

The giggling and grinning continued.

“OK, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing.” The giggle turned to laughter.

“Sheryl????”

“I’m going commando!”

Not quite what one might expect to hear from one’s wife on a quiet holiday Monday morning. I asked her to repeat her statement. Perhaps I had not heard her clearly?

“I’m going commando!”

There it was again. No mistake.

Turns out she had headed out from the house without a change of underwear. This realization came to her while driving between home and the pool. Rather than turn around, she thought, no big deal - I’ll deal with it after.

However, the gas light came on in her car.

Now I cannot tell you how many times she has yelled at me for doing this in either of our cars. She says it’s a guy thing. Maybe. So, she had to get gas. However, she was wearing a pretty sun dress. It was a sunny day. In her present state, she had to find a full-serve gas station. She was NOT going to stand pumping gas in her present state with a gentle breeze blowing and the sun shining... Operation “Get Gas” was initiated.

There is so much more that I could insert at this point, but if I wish to continue breathing and maintaining my present lifestyle, serious editing has been done to accommodate TLATO’s sanctioning of this post. This covert, military-type exercise did have its economic benefits. The full-serve she went to was less expensive than the self-serve by the pool. There was not going to be a Monroe-esque grate scene pumping gas after all.

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"Pssst... wanna buy a medal?"

If Canada as a country and its politicians were truly serious about funding athletes it would not just be presented as lip-flapping, self righteous rhetoric every 2 years or so, pre- and post- winter and summer Olympic Games.

If this was truly more than just so-called jingoistic nationalist pride, we would not only be talking about it on a much more regular basis, but steps would be taken to actually effect change much sooner rather than later.

Why must we also believe that it is up to various levels of government, specifically Federal, who “must” find the funds to initiate programs at early ages and then continue to foster these athletes every step of the way as they, perhaps, might one day make the National team in an Olympic event? If a corporate sponsor wishes to fund the next 10 years of so of track and field development in this country, why not allow it? In some ways it’s occurring now (Visa, anyone?) but perhaps it is still being done in such a way that it is condoned.

Hey, why not increase GST to 6% and take that 1% national sales tax and use that to assist in funding apparently much needed athletic programs?

Why is it that we don’t seem to make the same amount of noise pre- and post- Commonwealth or Pan-American Games for that matter?

People point to the US, to Australia and yes, to China as examples of what happens when money is put behind athletes as they are nurtured to their potential – natural or otherwise. Look at the medal haul of Great Britain these past couple of weeks. An increase over four years ago. Exponential? Perhaps. Coincidence that in four years time they will be hosting the next summer games? Again, perhaps. Can you imagine that their programs were not artificially inflated and funded by whatever means possible as a pre-cursor to the London Olympics in 2012?

But where might it all end? Does it then come down to the country, the government or the corporate sponsors that inject the greatest amount of funds that will “win”?

And for what?

The notion of Olympic athletes being true, unpaid amateurs was shattered long ago. The Redeem Team? Give me a break.

And this fuss over athlete’s ages? In gymnastics, they must be 16 years or older during the year of the games themselves. So why is it that a 14-year old diver from Great Britain is allowed to compete with nary an indignant squeal?

Oh yes, find me the lobbyist that managed to persuade the IOC that BMX bikes and their athletes should be considered as an Olympic sport? That ungodly noise you may have just heard are thousands of Greeks attempting to roll over in their graves at the notion of that being considered a sport, never mind one included in the Olympics.

I’m beginning to digress.

Hypocrisy. Frankly, that’s really what the underlying theme here likely is. And it’s a shame.

The best natural, amateur athlete may actually never see any world class athletic competition in their or even your lifetime. And in that regard I’m not just talking about Canada. What about a country like Ethiopia? Not exactly a world–beater in most any category and yet they have the ability to magically produce distance-holic automaton runners at the drop of a hat. And they are considered an underdeveloped nation. How can this occur? Do you think that government bureaucrats in countries like that might decide to pick the best of the best bare-footed athletes tending to goat herds on rugged hillsides, offering them and their families food, shelter and clothing – and for what? Glory on the world stage in front of an audience of over one billion people? Two days after the event, how many people will remember that athlete’s name?

How many of us know about Michael Phelps? Usain Bolt? Not to take anything away from either gentlemen, but it’s all just so hypocritical, isn’t it?

At the end of the day, the real “winners” are the marketers, the agents, the managers and, let’s not forget the chemists. The athletes themselves are merely shells, vessels to be used by their governments and sanctioned checkbook training programs.

So, what’s my point? Too many contentious issues here to make but one. At the end of the day, why not just tell it like it is? What would happen if one of two things were to occur?

1) Have an event that avoids any contact with raging consumerism and commercialism and have only athletes participate that have regular day jobs – no marketers; no consultants; no supplements; no chemicals; no endorsements… Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Or,

2) Take it to the extreme and use any and all advantages, natural and otherwise and use unlimited dollars to supercharge all athletes and events.

Either way, create a completely level playing field and then see what happens. And the chances of anything like that ever happening?

Ever see a little movie called “Chariots of Fire”?