Devine notes

Leaders trade barbs and jabs

Yes Gilles, it is curious.

Watching the federal election debate (not the down-home Sarah chat-fest on at the same time, although my attention was divided) the other night, something about the conversation struck me as … unnatural.

It wasn’t until Bloc Quebecois leader Gilles Duceppe asked a rhetorical question that I was able to put my finger on it.

Duceppe, whose whole raison d’étre is the separation of Quebec from the evil tyrannical state known as ‘Canada,’ was sounding – wait for it – like a national leader. And not the type from the nationalist brand of la belle province – no, in tone and dialogue, he didn’t sound all that different than the rest of them yammering at each other around that oddly shaped table.

You know the one? It kind of looked liked a runway, or a curling rink, complete with a big red maple leaf embroidered in the middle of it. Guess that was to remind the ‘debaters’ why they were there.

Anyway, back to Gilles and the ‘say what?’ moment.

“Doesn’t anyone find it curious,” he asked the others, “that the Bloc Quebecois is the only party with a buy-Canadian policy.” Yes, actually I do. The guy was talking about a pan-Canadian approach.

The words may have come out slightly different, but that’s basically what he said, leaving the other leaders to scramble that they too backed a buy-Canadian model, with a lot of spin tossed in so that they at least gave the impression Canadians would benefit from government expenditures, even if they were made offshore.

Wow, good question, Gilles. How do I vote for that guy?

As the debate moved on, his Canadian credentials grew as he made frequent references to the provinces, seemingly content to have Quebec lumped in with them.

Elizabeth May, leader of the Greens, was, as predicted, feisty and just happy to be in on the show, although I was disappointed she didn’t wear the ‘broach’ that highlighted her attire the night before during the French-language debate.

You know the one I’m talking about: the ‘enviro-clasp’ – that adornment that could have been a leaf, a shell, a pod, or any other earth-friendly shape. Where do I get one of those? Not for myself, of course.

For a guy getting beat up over his delivery of English, Stephane Dion did okay. I understood him pretty well, and his integrity and sincerity shone through. But somebody needs to toughen him up a bit. He reminds me of the math geek determined to get the girl’s attention by going head-to-head with the jocks, and taking some hard knocks for his efforts.

When he took on Jack Layton over the Kelowna Accord, Jack turned all snarly and nasty, snapping at Dion and leaving him sputtering in indignation. It wasn’t pretty. That Jack, he has a mean hook. He also got off the best line of the night at the expense of Harper, asking the PM where his platform was, inquiring if it was under his sweater.

The PM, for his part, took the shots and largely avoided rising to the bait. He held his temper, and got off a volley or two of his own.

He said, for instance, that he had never used a private clinic, apparently a jab at Layton, who ‘clarified’ that the clinic he used was covered by OHIP, and therefore not ‘out of bounds.’

So, May was energetic, Layton was aggressive, Duceppe was weirdly statesmanlike, Dion was plaintive, but also principled, honest and trustworthy. Harper survived the onslaught, and perhaps that’s all he had to do.

Cool to be green, but ...

Yes, it is cool to be green these days. Everyone wants to do something to protect the environment, both locally and on a global scale.

Expect the environment to continue to be a dominant issue in the election campaign. Perhaps not as big as it was last year, when the economy and gas prices didn’t command so much attention, but it will still be a significant topic of conservation and debate.

Liberal leader Stéphane Dion is hanging his hat, and his politic fortunes, on his environmental policy, the Green Shift, which proposes a carbon tax which, Dion says, would be refunded to Canadians through income-tax breaks.

Prime Minister Harper and the Tories are skewering Dion over his environment plan, claiming it will ‘damage’ Canadians; the Prime Minister actually said it would "screw" Canadians.

But the debate over the Green Shift does beg the question over how far Canadians, who profess a desire for measures to protect the environment, are prepared to go.

Canadians, per capita, are among the worst polluters in the world, ranking somewhere around seventh among industrialized countries. Partly, that’s due to geography, as climate plays a large role in how much energy we waste. But it’s also a benchmark in our attitudes about our use of pollution-causing sources.

Are we prepared to pay significantly more for energy to ‘save the planet?’ It’s rather easy to recycle, reduce and divert household waste, especially when those programs are part of municipal services. It’s another story when the bank account takes a direct hit from higher energy costs.

The Conservatives are banking on voters being uncomfortable with the costs of big, comprehensive plans like the Green Shift. But if Canadians are serious about protecting the environment, it will take more than sorting waste between blue and green bins.

The debate over the environment, and how that plays out in supports, will go a long way to revealing how far Canadians are prepared to go to protect the environment. 

Well, at least we now know what a puffin is

It’s a tale of two elections.

In one, history is in the making. Old prejudices and fears are tumbling and the conscience, imagination and resolve of a nation are awakening from a deep slumber.

In the other, the wooden man squares off against the backpack guy in a bid to win an election no one really wants, except for wooden man who wants more pegs than he won last time out.

The backpack guy is going along for the ride to show voters, his own party and the wooden guy that he is made of sterner stuff than previously thought. Taliban Jack and the jolly green May are putting their best foot forward.

If you had a choice in which election to vote, wouldn’t you pick the history making one? Alas, we are stuck with the one we have. But fear not. Our election is a hell of a lot funnier than the one south of the border.

Think not? How about the great puffin caper? Apparently, the puffin has some sort of celebrity status in Newfoundland/Labrador. Who knew? Well thanks to an animated bird on a Conservative website dropping a ‘hello how are you’ on the shoulder of hapless Dion, we are now well aware of the puffin and what it means to Newfoundland in general, and Danny Williams in particular.

Seems Danny has taken some offence to the Tories’ callous use of a treasured provincial icon. There he was, at a press conference, denouncing the Tories and calling on all and sundry to vote ABC (Anything But Conservative), while some poor sap paraded about in a puffin suit.

Good political theatre, yes. Hilarious, absolutely! 

Week one of the election also produced Dion’s explanation of his language troubles. Seems he can’t hear the ‘music’ of the English tongue, and that leads to mispronunciations, jumbled phrasings and mangled meanings.

Geez, if perfect linguistic ability were all that important to Canadians, Jean Chrétien would never have become the ‘little guy’ who shot from the heart, and occasionally from the hip.

Perhaps it’s not how Dion says it, but rather what he has to say. If he had a message voters longed to hear, they’d understand him no matter how tortured the delivery.

No recitation of the comic elements of our election would be complete without mentioning the PM’s sweaters and declarations of being just an ordinary family guy.

Forgive me if I’m wrong, but no one ever inferred ‘Steve’ was anything other than a standup family man. He just has an image as stiff and reserved as a Victorian vicar, and it’s unlikely any amount of warm and fuzzy sweaters will change that.

However, stranger things have happened. Maybe we don’t really know Steve after all.

Hands down, the knee-slapper prize goes to Williams and the cavorting puffin. South of the border, they’re making history. Here, we like to keep it light and breezy – and funny. Actually, maybe we’re on to something.

What will they do for Ontario?

Meet the new boss. He’s not the same as the old boss.

Once upon a time, not that many years ago, premiers of Ontario proudly bore the moniker of Captain Canada, an apt title considering the consensus-finding, nation-building approach the province’s leaders took to the often contentious national issues of their day.

An enlightened view, perhaps. But it was also a self-serving tactic, as largely what was good for Canada was good for Ontario. Those were the days when Ontario was unquestionably king of the hill, with huge benefits of Confederation flowing its way, so it was easy to take the high road.

Times have changed. Manufacturing jobs, the mainstay of the province’s economy, are bleeding away in the face of high energy costs, a strong dollar and a wilting American economy. Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty is envious of the province-first support his peers have in other regions of the country. He’s openly asking Ontario residents to give him the same edge as he negotiates with the feds for a ‘better deal’ for Ontario.

It’s a tough pill to swallow, and a jarring sight to see the premier go cap in hand, but Ontario is no longer the fat cat of the land. The old milk cow has seen better days. Not only is its industrial power fading, its political muscle is slipping away, as the ‘centre’ moves west. Times have changed.

So when the premier says Ontario residents should ask federal candidates and leaders what they plan to do for Ontario, he has a point. Other Canadians expect an answer to that question in relation to their provinces, so why not residents of this province?

What, specifically, should voters ask candidates about?
Start with equalization, that federal program designed to ensure common standards for basic social services across the land. Ontario contributes billions more than what it gets back, some estimates put it as high as $20 billion a year, even as services rise in other provinces, at times beyond the level of what residents in this province receive.

Economists say that within a few years, Ontario will be a have-not province. This will create the ludicrous situation of Ontario receiving equalization payments, the bulk of which it supplies to the federal treasury.

McGuinty also wants the feds to increase employment insurance benefits paid to Ontarians to national levels. He wants funding of the Canada Health Transfer to be done on a per capita basis, immediately, rather than in 2014-15, as is now the plan. And he seeks a regional development plan for Ontario’s industries, arguing every other region in Canada has such a program.

Ontario has a great natural resource: its people. Mobilized, they are a powerful force, able to influence and direct national policies. When candidates come calling, it’s okay to ask not only what have done for Ontario, but also what they plan to do for Ontario.

Not the centre of attention, but that's OK

“Wow, look at that.”
“Aw, how cute is that?”
“Is that ever cool.”
“I want one.”

I’m attracting a lot of attention these days. Amused, bemused, surprised and envious comments are being directed my way from patios, sidewalks, paths and parks.

I’d like to think it was because of the power of my presence, but truth be known I’m not really the object of all this attention, although if I ignored a few basic realities, such as age, grace and physique, I could be.

No, the real attention grabber – or should I say hog – is the pint-sized passenger stealing the limelight while seeing the sights on my legwork. There he is, trailing right behind me, barking instructions as I deftly navigate the city’s winding paths and trails on my new bike.

I picked it up earlier in the summer, while in the bike store collecting my wife’s two-wheeled conveyance, which had been in for an overhaul. It’s bright, shiny and has 28 – count them – gears. It cost a bit more than I wanted to spend, but the trustworthy and enterprising salesman assured me I was getting top quality, at a hefty discount.

I was quickly sold, but my wife took convincing. She had a new bedroom set in mind for the youngster, but soon became attached to the bike when the aforementioned advocate of pedal power introduced her to the ‘trail bike’ – a contraption that when attached to the back of my bike, turns the whole rig into a three-wheel, four-pedal, two-handlebar tandem – thing!

It’s this combination that has been turning heads near the waterfront this summer – that and the cute little guy riding shotgun, issuing his instructions.

“Go faster dad.”
“I want to stop for an ice cream.”
“Let’s go to the park.”
“Why are you slowing down?”

Of course, my own ‘bike chat’ is equally direct, mostly consisting of, “Don’t pedal when we’re going downhill,” and, “We’re not going up that hill!”

The brevity of conversation is in no way the result of a shortage of breath, but I must admit a favourite destination is the park, where I can rest the ‘bike’ against the bench I plunk myself down on, from where I have a panoramic view of the bay.

He quite enjoys himself there, so who am I to speed him along. Go on, run, jump, slide and play. It’s a sacrifice, sitting there doing nothing, nothing at all, but one I’m prepared to make for the little guy.

The bike has been a nice addition this summer, and yes it’s a lot of fun pulling the little guy along, even if it’s a bit of a struggle climbing the hills rising away from the bay. But hey, you try pulling 50 lbs (trail bike and passenger) behind you after nearly a decade and a half off the saddle and see how you fare.

At least my cycling ventures no longer generate looks of concern from my wife. This was not always the case.

A couple of days after the bike made its appearance, I announced my intention to go for a little mid-evening spin. “I won’t be out long – about 45 minutes.” Those who know me well are aware my time ‘estimates’ are more soft goals than hard targets, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that 45 minutes turned into two hours.

It was a pleasant, early summer evening, and I took the opportunity afforded by the bike to explore the trail around the bay, spending some quality time parked on a bench overlooking the water, watching the boats go by and doing nothing in particular.

Arriving home I was greeted by an obviously worried spouse, who wondered where I had been. She wasn’t concerned that I was late, but rather that I was lying by the side of the road or trail, clutching my chest.

Ah sweet love. It pops up in the most unexpected situations.

The little fellow has his own bike, a fire-red rocket complete with training wheels, but he much prefers to hit the trails with dad these days. We’ve become a familiar sight around the waterfront; the wife even joins us for a cycle from time to time.

It’s still a sweat to climb those hills, but it’s getting easier. It’s been a good buy, the bike. And even though the attention isn’t coming my way, it’s still nice to get a notice, if only by association.

With information so readily available, why are people so stupid?

We live in an era of technical wonders. Communication is instantaneous. Information is, literally, at our fingertips. Knowledge abounds and the cranium bursts at the seams trying to store it all.

Surely with so much potential to communicate and learn we will soon see the end of war, pestilence, greed, hunger and the evolution of humankind to a new level thinking, harmony and bliss.

An age of enlightenment is upon us!

Well, maybe not. Truth be told, we seem to be going the other way. Despite the marvels of modern communication, and the ease to which we can access information, these are tacky, tasteless, uninformed, unenlightened and crude times.

Why are there so many stupid people in our midst?

I don’t say this to be unkind. In fact, to others I may well be one of the stupid. You might be too. But that doesn’t change the fact that idiocy seems to run rampant in our society, broadly defined here as the ‘Western World.’

Most inhabitants of the rest of the planet are too busy trying to stay alive to be stupid. Here, in the West, however, we have the time to be idiots. How do we spend that time? We consume trash as if it were art. We discuss the inane while ignoring the important. We take our information in snapshots while ignoring the substance.

In short, we are eager participants in the dumbing down of society.

It’s really not a new phenomenon. In reality it’s human nature, and that nature hasn’t changed all that much over the eons. Throughout the ages there have been some great quotes about stupidity.

Albert Einstein is reported to have said, “Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.”

Confucius opined, “Only the wisest and stupidest of men never change.”

According to George Bernard Shaw, “When a stupid man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty.”

Former British Prime Minister John Major said of his people, “Only in Britain could it be thought a defect to be ‘too clever by half.’ The probability is that too many people are too stupid by three-quarters.”

And a personal favourite of mine comes from Forrest Gump, who declared, “Stupid is as stupid does.”
Yes Forrest, there’s wisdom in your words.

So what does it matter if we are more interested in Britney and Paris than history and current affairs?

Well, there’s another famous quote that cautions, “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat its mistake,” and when it comes to current affairs, let’s not ignore the old chestnut that warns without knowledge and information, “You are like a mushroom. Sitting in the dark and fed bullshit.”

Stupid people are easy to control and led, which is probably why governments aren’t too unhappy about an uninformed populace. They won’t ask too many questions, unless it becomes personal – as in costing them money or breaking some real or imagined taboo.

Then the great, uninformed masses rise as one to kick the bums out.

It matters when you don’t know the origins of some of the most significant issues facing the country, like health care and unity. If you don’t understand where something comes from, how can you participate in any meaningful discussion? You have no context, no historical reference point, on which to express an informed opinion.

Personally, I don’t buy the excuse that people don’t vote because they are apathetic. More likely, they don’t vote because they have no idea what the politicians are talking about. People are intellectually lazy. Not all of them, but enough to set a pattern.

British author John Fowles, whose work included The French Lieutenant’s Woman, was quoted as saying, “There are only two races on this planet – the intelligent and the stupid.” Which one are you?"

Signs you, not me, are getting old

The other day a colleague dropped by the office, grimacing as he reached for his back, a slight stoop to his posture.

“You know you’re getting old when merely standing up brings on the aches and pains,” he said, perhaps looking for some sympathy.

I don’t know about that, being a fit, handsome and incredibly, eternally, youthful man, much to the delight of my ever-grateful wife. But it did get me to thinking about the signs we, or rather you, give off to reveal the fact Mother Nature takes no prisoners.

Sooner or later we, I mean you, surrender to the slow, relentlessly grim pull of the reaper. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for you!

Anyway, enough joviality. Here are some behaviours I’ve seen that indicate you, not me, are getting … mature.

You know you’re getting on when you break wind in public, and either don’t know or don’t care. Either that or you are four.

When you not only don’t recognize the song being played, you have no idea what kind of device it’s being played on, you know it’s all passing you by.

If you talk more about your snowblower than sex, life, as you have known it, is ending.

When the bartender calls you sir instead of buddy, it’s a sign the age train is pulling into the station.

If your back goes out more than you do, it might be a sign the years are piling up.

When you start to scream at the neighbourhood kids, and they’re not even on your lawn, it’s a sign old man grump has come calling.

When you start to laugh like the Penguin (think about it), don’t be surprised if someone gives up a chair for you.

If someone starts to tell you the good news about prostate health, man-o-man you are past it.

If you still think polyester is cheap stuff, your days as a fashion hound are well behind you.

If you get on the dance floor and even attempt to ‘do the hustle,’ grab the next bus for retirement city because they have a lovely lawn chair waiting just for you.

If someone calls you at 9 p.m. and asks if they woke you, age has become a factor.

When you get into the elevator and start to hum along, just step off between floors because there isn’t anywhere to go but down.

If the name Lawrence Welk even enters you vocabulary, grab some popcorn – with butter substitute of course – and watch the show.

When just about everything under the sun or moon has the potential to annoy you, it might be time to admit your capacity to just ‘put up with it’ is diminishing as fast as your bone mass.

You know you’re getting on when you start to worry about getting on – unless you’re an excessive worrier who has been obsessing about age since you were 20. If that’s the case, well never mind.

If Bono is younger than you, yikes!

I know it’s rough getting old, but someone has to do it. And just remember, there’s always someone older than you. If not, man are you old!