Brother J gets revenge and 2019 is pissed

A cautionary tale from my erstwhile colleague…. don’t mess with the man! It never would have occurred to me, but this seems only fair….

As you may know a few months ago my wife wife’s purse was stolen at a restaurant. Well, in the purse was my cell phone. Thank God that the purse only had $15 and my cell phone. Although, (I did take the precaution of replacing) the locks on my house and car. In the 20 minutes before I cancelled the phone, the thief called 14 people. Now he was a great thief in the fact he/she could lift a purse in a busy restaurant without anyone noticing, but he/she should know never to make an outbound call on a stolen phone. When I got my bill, I recorded the numbers he/she called. Using the internet, I found the name associated with many of the numbers called. The police did not care. (editors note … dja figure?) So– I knew that a call from a pay phone from the transit stop shows up on call display as Ottawa Transit. The plan was to call the numbers stating that I worked for transit and that we found a notebook with the list of names and numbers– Well seemed good, but everyone I called only seemed to speak Spanish–My plan failed– Then I looked at one of the calls to the Northern US. The lady seem older, perhaps mother or aunt. Now what were chances that crime runs in the family? (Editor’s note… dja figure) I called US INS. They have been looking for the family for 2 yrs to deport for theft etc–I may never find who stole my phone but I got their mother (or aunt) deported.

 

So anyway, from the perspective of 2019 I find this story horrifying, but I’m leaving it here as a reminder that I am a work in progress and it’s my duty not to hide my darkness. I would never laugh at this story now. I would probably say nothing or remonstrate with J. And I never mentioned it in my blog but he was married at the time – still is as far as I know – to an Indigenous woman so there’s a whole extra layer of wtf for you.

questions for movie watching

http://www.enjoythedraft.com/draft101.htm

Gulp.

Anyway, the movie night was good and the pizza (crafted by Keith and myself) was perfectly edible, and then we read the names of the dead at the school and lit candles for them. Then we ran outside in the rain and we let off fireworks.

Just so you know, if anybody ever made me the benevolent dictator of Canada, I would promptly increase the fireworks budget by 300%. I am a very fond of the sweet smoky metal smell of fireworks. Snort…. Ah!

2019 says I take this all back, because fireworks scare pets and wildlife, start wildfires and are toxic as fuck.

Discussion questions about Bowling for Columbine.

November 13, 2004

1. How would you go about researching whether the statistics that Michael Moore quotes in the movie about gun deaths in various countries are true?

2. If you were going to make a movie about a social problem in Canada, what subject would you pick?

3. Michael Moore does his best to make some very famous media personalities look stupid. Why did he do this and what did he accomplish?

4. There have been a couple of school shootings in Canada in the last thirty years. Look up the details for the most recent one on the internet (Canadian school shootings for the search criteria) and see if you can draw any parallels and differences between what happened in Littleton CO and Taber AB.

5. Do you think Michael Moore is right when he points to racism and gun availability as being the biggest factors in the ongoing American love affair with guns, or do you think he missed some other possibilities?

6. Why is the interview portion with Marilyn Manson so powerful? What makes Marilyn such a credible witness to the media circus that followed the shootings?

More advanced questions about Canada and guns.

7. All the guns and ammunition used in the tragedy at Columbine were legally purchased, although the two boys were not legally allowed to carry the guns. Research what you would have to do in Canada to legally purchase the guns involved. Be prepared to fill out a LOT of forms. Oh, and DON’T tell the investigator that you just broke up with your s.o.

8. Most Canadians have never even seen a handgun up close, let alone fired one. Do you have any interest in firearms? Would you want to go to a shooting range? If so, why?

9. Canada is having a very hard time with a gun registry law that was passed but not very well implemented. It cost a stupendous amount of money and has had the effect of criminalizing a lot of Canadian gun owners, including people I know. Educate yourself about the gun registration law. Americans point to our restrictive gun laws as a sign Canadians don’t understand liberty. How would you respond to this?

Who put Bush on my calendar

I have left in one reference to Love Bush. If somebody wants me to make the effort to love George W. Bush, no problem. I don’t need to bash George W. Bush, and in future I won’t. I’ll just quote him. That should be sufficient. This will meet the requirements of polite discourse without any rancour.

Oh, did anybody read about OBL getting permission from some Saudi religious person to nuke the US? I wonder if Ashcroft quit so he wouldn’t get blamed for it. I understand from my technically oriented friends that it’s actually harder than it looks to make a nuke go off. What is more likely in a terrorist scenario is a conventional bomb in an inconvenient location going off while jacketed with some trifling quantity of plutonium. What a world.

Bowling for Youth Group

I’ll be showing Bowling for Columbine to the youth group tonight. I am very much looking forward to a couple of the segments I enjoyed the most the first time I watched it. I am also going to be printing out the names of the people who were killed so we can memorialize them.

Lil’ Kate has agreed to help clean up, then she’s going to Larry’s funeral. Sigh.

An acquaintance of hers killed herself about six months ago, and her last MSM message to her friend was a request to wear bright colours at the funeral. Apparently Larry is going to be in an open casket. This is really harsh, there was substantial head trauma; but Katie will be there with adult friends as well as Samantha, and I’ll talk to her about it when she gets home. I’ve only been to one open casket funeral in my life, that of my former father-in-law. I’m not convinced they are barbaric, but they are difficult to manage in a world that really dodges death as much as this one. Apparently the person responsible was a young man who was changing lanes in an intersection, and apparently charges have been laid for vehicular manslaughter or whatever the equivalent is if that’s not the right legal term. What a world.

Lotusland

Very pleasant day here in Lotusland. Woke to a world so covered in dew that it was quite amazing; and a dead rat on the back deck. When the condensation burned off it was a glorious fall day, so glorious that I had to do yard work. I’ve had a pretty slack day. Dishes, laundry, leaf raking (Keith did 2/3rds of it mind you) and it was a couple of hours and many wheelbarrow loads, hanging with Katie and her friend Samantha briefly, making a trip to the bank and Rona and the Twist with Paul. Reading a bit more “Love for Sale” which is virtually impossible to read sequentially. It’s like a, oh, I don’t know, one of those bathroom reader books but, like, a scholarly/literary one? Weird. And I can’t deal with the cover. A naked white woman being tended by a clothed black woman. (Olympia by Manet, which is a really cool painting, but I don’t think belonged on the cover.)

I would like to publicly announce that Erica Williams is a goddess.

2019 says – who is Erica Williams? I have no frickin’ idear

I’m giving a sermon at Beacon December 5. The person who was originally scheduled was unavailable. So I have the opening paragraphs of the sermon, during which I will studiously quote Hewitt, as he is the capo di tutte capi around these parts in terms of being a Unitarian Elder Statesman.

After that I’m stuck, but that might have something to do with having to stop and do three Tarot readings. Two for the girls, one for me. Will I go back to Beacon? King of Cups staring me in the face. Very funny, little cards.

An interesting thing about Rev Hewitt is, of all the human beings I’ve ever been in the same room with, he’s the one with the voice timbre most closely resembling that of Walter Cronkite. I remember being simply mesmerized (when I was a wee tad, obliviously) by anything Cronkite announced or narrated. He narrated a “peep into the future” show called The 21st Century, and I used to love watching that program because there was all this neat tech stuff and this amazing amazing narration. So I sit and listen to a Rev Hewitt sermon and I literally don’t hear a word he says, I’m so enchanted with how he’s saying it.

I light a candle for Yassir Arafat. If Allah indeed is Lord and rules this ball of mud it will go hard for him, I fear.

Paul said we’re going out to dinner (I had not actually been thinking of going out and had started food happening) so off the the four of us and Unca Dave go to The Grand Buffet. Don’t ask about the shrimp, at least while Katie’s in earshot. Everything else was really good except the sushi.

I said to John after we got back, in the course of a conversation, “I’m open to change” and he said “I’m even open to spare change.” So of course I had to run upstairs and write it down. I’m sure it’s been done, but it sure sounded funny at the time.

I found the song I wrote when Carmen killed himself. I remember thinking at the time that it was a really good song, but I’d never record it because it might be interpreted, falsely, to encourage people to kill themselves. And it might be interpreted the wrong way by people who were a lot closer to Carmen than I. The living need to be respected more than the dead.

I hear that Mike is moving closer, first to Coquitlam and then to Burnaby. This means, and you can feel the jelly wobble when I say this, that a hot tub is migrating back into my future. Mind you, hot tubs do not (affect English accent) migrate, per se, but if you have six or eight strapping lads you’ll do well enough. (Okay, back to Anglo Canadian). This hot tub is a place where I have spent many happy hours, frolicking with kids, getting various portions of my anatomy massaged, and drinking beer during a snowfall. A man has levitated back into that hot tub after falling out of it – and he never touched the ground. I remember Stephanie talking about horses, crazy ex husbands and the various practical arts she has mastered over the course of a very willful life; she gave a lot of sound advice, and I prospered when I took most of it. Those days have gone, but access to the hot tub, thankfully, has not.

Stair components cut and primed. Tomorrow insulation and stairs, both. Sounds like a lot of work will be happening here, tra la la I’ll be at work. The railing is off already, so it’s REALLY disorienting going down those stairs now. Somebody wrote a bit about a coffee table – Shelley Newman (I think) and I want to do something about the back stairs. My back stairs are very independent minded. They wish to secede from the back of the house, and they’re talking the nails into coming loose and joining their glorious Confederacy. Not only are they hostile to the house, they are vicious when approached. You do not want to walk on these stairs. They are not flat, and tip forward in fact, to the point where you’re contemplating whether it might be the better part of valour to just sit down. Maybe scooch down the stairs on your butt, so as to not break your skull, or more likely, your wrists. These are the stairs that will get their wish, and they will be like a vile spirit exorcised; the magicians I live with and am related to will make them trouble me no more. In their place, a brilliant shining white stair, so bright that I must needs turn my eyes away from the awful chatoyancy. Yup, that’s what a little carpentry can do for ya. I’m a lucky goil.

Holes fixed

I came home from work last night and the holes in my kitchen ceiling had been filled. Unca Dave and Paul have been bery bery busy trying to get everything organized for insulating the attic (very necessary given what’s happening to fuel prices) and the back steps.

Katie was at Sam’s last night but (omg!) phoned to let me know, leaving a message on the machine as I was likely out cold when she called. Very foggy this morning, but it will likely burn off.

Board meeting last night was quite productive but they sure have a lot of work in front of them and it will be interesting to see if they can fill the gap between the canvass and the budget AND buy a building. It’s been an interesting exercise, and it doesn’t help that the folks selling the church building are flatly refusing to put a price on it. We shall see what is and isn’t too rich for the congregational blood. I abstained from discussion seeing as how I won’t be around to live with the consequences.

I hope everybody has a peaceful Remembrance Day, and I pray for the living and the dead of Fallujah, the Ivory Coast, and the 30 or so other hotspots in the world today.

schroedinger’s warlord

It’s official. Yassir Arafat is now Schroedinger’s Cat. He is, and he is not; he is on the cusp of being and not being. He is alive, and he’s dead, sometimes on the same Yahoo.com news page if my reading of a Fark post does not deceive me.

Unca Dave got here last night and he and Paul have an exceedingly ambitious plan of attack on various aspects of the house, including insulating the roof and replacing the back stairs; anybody who’s actually USED the back stairs will be thrilled at this news because the stairs seem to be sentient; they act as if they want to toss you ten feet onto a concrete slab, generally when the weather is inclement.

Katie seems to be okay, just really tired. She announced at supper last night (which we took in at the excellent Chong Lum Hin) that she intends to sleep all day today. Man, I wish I could do the same, but I have to write FAQ’s and do stock checks today. I may go in to work tomorrow… we’ll see (it’s a holiday in BC). Keith just looks tired and he’s been unusually quiet. Larry’s funeral is now on Friday.

Katie doesn’t have to go to court again, the probation officer phoned back and we have an appointment on the 19th. That’s all for now.

daysign is coyotes

I was moved to call Paul today and tell him he was my sweetie and he said, well, it’s a normal day 4 (the last day of his rotation) and I said, How so? and he said, well I tried to get into the company truck this morning and the door came off in my hand. So that was what his day was like. Of course he had this TONE to his voice, like what else can you expect, and I just laughed.

My daysign was the coyote pair that we frequently see at the office, trotting down the hill. One is very mangy and the other is quite healthy and looks bulkier, although that’s perhaps because it doesn’t have all the hair missing from its shoulders to its tail. They walk as if they own the joint. It’s very funny. And of course nobody noticed but me.

Lunch was this extremely bizarre philly sandwich. Am I alone in thinking that a slice of meat you could read a headline through topped with some strange amalgamation of sliced peppers, cheesy weirdness and canned gravy is not really a philly? The bun was good. I continue to be underwhelmed by the cafeteria, but I suppose if it vanished I’d be underwhelmed about that too. The coffee is still good.