Category: Uncategorized

Rantin’

Given that there’s lots of hot hot taserin’ action in the news these days, I thought I’d fire up the four brain cells I have left and attempt a rant on the subject.

When I was a kid growing up in Ottawa, I lived next door to the Chief of Police. I wasn’t scared of cops. I had no reason to be. The man next door was a wonderful guy who had a wonderful wife and four redheaded kids who were ‘lively and intelligent youngsters’ (full marks if you get the reference). Over the last 40 years, a number of social changes have occurred which have degraded our ability as a culture to convey moral intelligence to our children, so I no longer have the warm fuzzies about cops that I did when I was eight.

Like what kinds of societal changes? Smaller family sizes, so kids don’t get the “scarce resources and you’d feckin’ better share and your big brother will pound the shit out of you if you do x” lecture. Broken families so that more children spend less time with adults who are related to them and might have some interest in conveying subtle information like how to change oil, go fishing, keep a clean home or behave properly. The women (and some single dads) who are left are tired and whiny. Byeeootiful, a substantial number of children raised by tired and whiny people!! whoo hoo. This is NOT blame the victim, if I’d had to raise Keith and Kate on my own the three of us would all be considerably more loony than we are.

What else? Looser associations between neighbours so that adults are more likely to believe their lying little swine of children than the nosy parker next door reporting on their animal torturing activities. Kids being locked in a room with a phosphor dot stranger six hours a day instead of getting in trouble outside with pipe bombs and pick up baseball games, like Murphy intended. Unbelievable quantities of brain altering substances, some legit and some not, available before puberty for substantial portions of the school aged population, and fewer adults to hit the baloney alarm when the exposure occurs. Kids hitting puberty up to two years faster than when I was a kid. Holy crap, that makes a difference! And day in, day out, the unrelenting message of thin, rich, irresponsible, mouthy, stupid, greedy, oversexed neediness that is the openly stated point or winking subtext of every goddamned commercial and print ad and most of the content in most of the broadcasts all the time and everywhere.

I don’t think I am alone in thinking this. It isn’t just that our culture is rude AND people believe in spooks and angels, or that the moon landings didn’t happen. I’m not going to hop up and down and say that things are worse now in every respect, but it isn’t just the KIDS that have had less of a fair shake being taught moral responsibility, personal pride and self-control. Most of the cops now on the street in Canada are younger than I am. So I’m thinking there are a lot of adults running around now who are having ‘control issues’ too. Or have no feckin respect for other people.

For the cops, who grew up in this toxic bullshit along with the rest of us and are not inclined by the nature of their jobs to have any high opinion of homo sap, there are a couple of wonderful new wrinkles. Like, for instance, a substantial number of the people they get to deal with are DISEASED. And, if they get any on them…. contagious. Given a choice between massaging somebody’s skull with a nightstick and possibly getting blood on you, and tasering some poor sucker, what would YOU do? Ah, no contest.

So don’t be too surprised that cops are having a field day with the completely safe tasers (or so they would have me believe). After all, if you’re healthy, a tasering can’t permanently hurt you. It sure gives the cops a healthy laugh to watch you writhe on the ground like a worm.

Further reading:

Taser International wants to be part of the solution.

Santa wants to give all the good cops a taser.

Consumer tasers. At $1000 a pop, I’m not expecting one for Xmas.

Truth not Tasers blog.

Taser never loses a liability lawsuit.

Blue skies (no work)

Katie has gone back to the hotel room to keep reading Harry Potter VII.  We’ve breakfasted, and the locals who swarm the place on the weekend have all gone back to work.  The internet cafe is deserted except for me; it’s really quite remarkably peaceful and cool (A/C not being in any short supply here).  Inland I imagine it’s a different story.

Last night was the first time the mosquitoes were really bad; the buffet is located in a pavilion open to the sea breezes, but also to one of the ugliest little cats ever (sat by our table begging and meowing), sparrows who have learned to fold their wings up as they fly through the gaps in the curtains and to tiny, hellaciously persistent mosquitoes. I contemplate our bites (as usual, Katie’s getting it way worse than I am) and think about dengue (which is endemic) and malaria (2004 outbreak).  We cut short dinner to get back to the room. 

If I said I am doing nothing and enjoying it, would you believe me?

I keep seeing bugs and critters that I can’t take pictures of because they move so frikkin’ fast – and I can’t hold what they look like in my head long enough to be able to remember to look them up afterwards.  There was an immense mostly black-with-yellow-bands butterfly on the wall outside our room as we went out to breakfast, but it had vanished by the time I got back into the room safe to get the camera.

Later, a black and yellow bird the size of a bush tit serenaded me from a tree.  I could see half way to his stomach while he was singing….

Tomorrow, more nothing, then Santo Domingo,  then Saona.  Then home.

Viva la Republica Dominicana

I’m sure glad I read up on this place before I stuck down my money.  I knew that check-in would be a nightmare, so I just stayed very very calm.  And waited.  And waited.  We ran into a lovely middle aged Finnish Canadian couple the first day and we’ll be touring Santo Domingo and Saona with them.  Lonely Planet says Saona is a great example of how places get f=cked up by tourism, but I frankly do not care.  The place I most want to see is Trujillo’s unused palace west of Santo Domingo, but instead I will be shopping in la Zona Colonial in the old city and we will be going to the gorgeous sun-drenched isle of Saona – but that’s all the touristy things we’ll be doing apart from hanging at the resort, which is, since some people may care, the Barcelo Capella in Juan Dolio, room 1351.  Since Katie and I have achieved perfect agreement about what constitutes a holiday – someone else cooking, someone else cleaning, and air conditioned tour buses – we’re having a lovely time.

I didn’t bring my USB cable for the camera so the grisly pictures of our horrible time (NOT) will not be available until our return, ever supposing I don’t lose the camera.

To rewind:  The flight was bumpy.  Like, really really bumpy.  Like, clutching Katie’s arm while she laughed at me bumpy.  She was not impressed by my childish display of fear…  Got here at night, drove through Santo Domingo in the dark.  Katie burst into laughter when she saw a midsized truck loaded to the gunwhales with bananas.  You just don’t ever see that in Canada.  The tour bus had to wait as four people were stuck in customs but we were only delayed about an hour and the package coordinator Leo said, partly to entertain us, that we had a challenge and a commitment, to support the beer factories of the Dominican Republic.  Personally I find Presidente beer quite refreshing, but in the last day Katie and I have branched out to Cuba Libres and Pina Coladas.  Whoever said, in the reading I did about the resort, that they water down the drinks is a raging bloody alcoholic; Katie and I have seen NO evidence that this is the case.

 They are supposed to have internet access in the resort, but fat freaking chance, muchachos.  I’m across the street at the mini mall, pounding away for 100 RD an hour.  The story is that the resort doesn’t have a ‘code’ but all that means is that they aren’t paying their suppliers.

There are a million little lizards on the grounds – which are stunning, no word of a lie – and they move like greased lightning.  There is a little pool with flamingos in it – they croak when they speak – and do yoga.  I have pictures, and hope to prove this assertion later. 

Other than reading Harry Potter; body surfing in the warmest water I’ve ever experienced while keeping a sharp eye on our crap; drinking (5 drinks or less per day, spaced out carefully); napping; eating damned good buffet food given the climate; sleeping; walking around the grounds being all happy; booking trips; a small amount of outrageously expensive shopping for the items we couldn’t bring on the airplane; and standing for a long long time waiting to talk to the reception dudes and dudettes – we’ve done nothing at all.  Okay, we’ve watched lizards and been chased down the hall by the biggest goddamned moth I’ve ever seen in my life.

The vendors on the beach are by no means as pressing and persistent as the guidebooks said they’d be, but they are still out like bugs, as Katie remarked. 

The room is really nice, and the a/c – when we run it – keeps the place ice cold.  I was terrified at the complaints about the stench of mold in the rooms, but the smell is omnipresent because of the heat and humidity.  The first thing I did when I got to the room was smell the bedding for mold and bedbuggy evidence, and I was vastly relieved when there was no sign of either.  We’ve slept like dormice every night.

So far the biggest complaints I have are that they don’t have functioning internet, that the elevator in our building doesn’t work, and that the front desk staff appear to have been provided with Quaaludes as part of their compensation package.  However, I also note that the desk staff appear to work 12 hour shifts in heat and humidity that would cause most Canuckistanis to experience convulsions after about six hours, so I make my comments with that admonitory note.

The hurricane Noel that passed through a week ago did not appear to put the grounds in much disarray.  The upkeep on the grounds is amazing – we’ve seen groundskeepers working every day trimming and feeding and watering and in general keeping things looking lovely.  At this time of year not much is in bloom, but the lushness is amazing.  There’s a cactus that is twice the height of a person out by the buffet – I hope to get a snap of Katie standing in front of it.

Another fact I gleaned from the reviews of the resort is that it’s jammed with locals on the weekend.  If the notion of having well behaved children and gorgeous young twenty-something couples strolling around the grounds and sharing the buffet space with you bothers you – which evidently it did for some of the stuck up dickweeds who were reviewing the place – then obviously weekends at the resort will bother you.  Since Katie and I have found any of the Dominicans who have enough money to get into this place quite charming I am thinking the reviewers had ‘issues’.

There were also whiny noises made about the buffet. Dominican food is so bland that anybody used to sampling the culinary delights of Vancouver, with its Thai, Sri Lankan, Szechuan and Sushi smorgasbord, will be saddened by it; me, I’m just happy to be eating food that can’t possibly upset my stomach.  Katie, with her background in Foodsafe, has been watching like a hawk for any evidence of unsanitary practices, and she pronounces herself happy.

Beach is full of ground up shells, so you have to wear footgear in and out of the water, but it was so gorgeous that we didn’t care.  The water, as I say, was bathtub warm, and the waves were big enough to provide interest and small enough to feel safe.  Except for the one time I got smacked real good from behind and Katie nearly died laughing.

You would think after the long airplane ride and the hour long bus ride my back would be a wreck, but I feel better than I have done in ages.

Another item which makes me shake my head is the people who complained about the floor show every night.  I think it’s great, although I’ll probably be tired of it in a week.  It’s quite loud – but nice to hear from your room.  A nine piece live merengue band is an auditory treat.

My kind regards to all you suckers.  I’m having a wonderful time.

Deadwood Redux Redux

Mike, bless him, has prevented me from not seeing the sun this day by calling me and asking me to join him for dinner. Daughter Katie is so angry with me that our Mexico trip is now in jeopardy, such are the hazards of a misused word, and frankly, I’m not sure, in my present choleric and dismissive mood, that I care that much. To be frank even further, I’d be 2 thousand dollars up if she bails on me, as she has frequently done of late.

And the Deadwood series is done. Like Firefly. Delivered before its time, dead untimely, to be much mourned.