Allegra Sloman's blog

Note from 2019 – Can’t find this on line any more, the site still exists but the ranking no longer exists because they have a whole bunch of different criteria.  Okay, back to the fall of 2004.

 

Finland,

Iceland,

Denmark,

New Zealand,

Singapore,

Sweden,

Netherlands,

Australia,

Norway,

Switzerland,

Canada,

Luxembourg,

United Kingdom,

Austria,

Hong Kong,

Germany,

Belgium,

Ireland,

USA,

Chile,

Israel,

Japan,

France,

Spain,

Portugal,

Oman,

Bahrain,

Cyprus,

Slovenia,

Botswana,

Taiwan,

Qatar,

Estonia,

Uruguay,

Italy,

Kuwait,

Malaysia,

United Arab Emirates,

Tunisia,

Hungary,

Lithuania,

Namibia,

Cuba,

Jordan,

Trinidad and Tobago,

Belize,

Saudi Arabia,

Mauritius,

South Africa,

Costa Rica,

Greece,

South Korea,

Belarus,

Brazil,

Bulgaria,

Czech Republic,

Jamaica,

Latvia,

Colombia,

Croatia,

El Salvador,

Peru,

Slovakia,

Mexico,

Poland,

China,

Panama,

Sri Lanka,

Syria,

Bosnia & Herzegovina,

Dominican Republic,

Egypt,

Ghana,

Morocco,

Thailand,

Senegal,

Turkey,

Armenia,

Iran,

Lebanon,

Mali,

Palestine,

India,

Malawi,

Romania,

Mozambique,

Russia,

Algeria,

Madagascar,

Nicaragua,

Yemen,

Albania,

Argentina,

Ethiopia,

Gambia,

Pakistan,

Philippines,

Tanzania,

Zambia,

Guatemala,

Kazakhstan,

Moldova,

Uzbekistan,

Venezuela,

Vietnam,

Bolivia,

Honduras,

Macedonia,

Serbia & Montenegro,

Sudan,

Ukraine,

Zimbabwe,

Congo, Republic of the,

Ecuador,

Iraq,

Sierra Leone,

Uganda,

Cote d’Ivoire,

Kyrgyzstan,

Libya,

Papua New Guinea,

Indonesia,

Kenya,

Angola,

Azerbaijan,

Cameroon,

Georgia,

Tajikistan,

Myanmar,

Paraguay,

Haiti,

Nigeria,

Bangladesh,

You will note in this list of which countries have the least public and business corruption and the highest level of public scrutiny of their accounts, that Canada does not place in the top ten. However, it does rank above Britain, France and the US. If I was a real SD, and I am, I would pull a very poker face and ask that the ratings of Iraq and the US be mingled, seeing as how Iraq is not really and effectively a sovereign state at the moment but a ‘client state’ of the US. I am sure a lot of Iraqis would be cheesed at me for saying that, and likely even more Americans.

Transparency International, by the way, is headquartered in the UK. So even though it’s a more corrupt place than Canada, at least it’s a safe country to say that in. Karl Marx, you will recollect, took refuge in Britain.

I find it interesting that the only person I ever knew socially who came from Africa came from Botswana, the first African country on the list. One of the the things that Botswana has done… check out the country’s main website, it rocks… is encourage people to go overseas and get an education and then COME HOME. Apparently more than 95 percent of Botswanans who are educated overseas go back when they’re done. And that’s what Serara did. She and her hubby came to Ottawa, and imagine if you dare their reaction to their first Ottawa winter…. busted ass on their respective degrees, and went home. The reason Botswana is at the top of the list for Africa is three fold. They didn’t get their independence via a civil war, which meant that they didn’t lose whatever infrastructure was in place when the Brits left. They emphasize literacy. And they don’t have a brain drain. If all the educated people come home to fill up the bureaucracies and schools and universities and telephone companies and power companies and mining companies, then it’s a lot easier to make progress. They have an active, noisy and pluralistic democracy, and high voter turnout. And don’t forget the role of an independent judiciary. They have a lot of the same features to their political landscape that the rest of Africa does (like lots of different ethnic and religious groups and brutal weather), but anytime you emphasize peace – civil order, I mean- and education you can accomplish amazing things.

And I see that Nigeria and Bangladesh continue to duke it out for last place. God help us, but colonialism has a lot to answer for.

I can’t help looking at the bottom four fifths of this list and think that it reads like the roll call of places I’d never want to live. May the deity of your choice bless Canada!

Something…. or maybe someone…. keeps cleaning the solar panels on the Martian explorers. The notion that some bizarre Martian lifeform is deciding that the panels need a good dusting is too bizarre not to share. Current Nasa thinking is dust devils. Oh come one, you KNOW there’s life on Mars. They’re just… hiding. And the reason they’re dusting the Rovers off is because they’re the only thing in the landscape that actually LOOKS clean when you dust it. I know how they feel. Seven maids with seven mops, indeed.

In his zeal to reduce clutter which is, as we all know, the outward manifestation of deferred decisions, Paul attempted to throw out all of the children’s books my parents gave me before my 10th birthday. I managed not to be verbally abusive in response, and I think (actually, it’s more like I hope) that I got the point across that this wasn’t appropriate behaviour. I am going to have to watch him closely. I really have to wonder about that guy…. his timing is so peculiar. The next two sentences deleted, as they could, viewed under direct light, look quite abusive.

I attended the world’s shortest meeting yesterday, during which I learned that my attendance at the next meeting wasn’t necessary. Really, can’t they all be like that? I could have kissed the VP, which would have been worse than harassment.

Consensus is that the food that replaced the food at work (we changed service providers, and now have Aramark) is quite variable and the portions are quite small. I find when it’s good, it’s good and salty. However they keep the coffee flowing in ever fragrant streams, so I can’t really complain… that part is free.

I have made the decision that I am not going to allow George W. Bush to determine my mood. Riverbend posted about his election win…. I will allow her poetry, which is quite sickly hilarious, as only poetry written somebody currently living in Baghdad could be, do the talking for me.

Watched Keith at the dojo yesterday. He flails around too much, but when he concentrates he’s quite deadly. The brown belts were learning a new kata and I found I wanted to just gawk at the dude closest to me. He was like quicksilver poured into a gi.

Katie, after some prompting, allowed me to work on her neck and back last night. She’s healing up okay but we still have to talk to ICBC.

Imagine that you woke up today to the news that some spammer’s gonna do 9 years in a federal pen in the US! Okay, your fantasy came true. I am so pumped, and the IT folk are gleeful.

Went to see Ghost in the Shell / Innocence last night. I have to admit that Batou is one of my all time favourite manga characters, although his sidekick, whose name I can never remember, is pretty cool as well – very Japanese Keanu Reeves. The film is visually stunning, full of really bizarre philosophical discussions, equally bizarre characters and LONG pauses and not too hokey or violent shoot em ups. My favourite scene was the parade. I have no idea what it was doing in the middle of the movie, or what the significance of the burning dolls was, but it was an amazing image.

Very nice intermixture of CGI and hand drawn cels.

The most amazing thing about this movie was not the movie, which was pretty cool, but the fact that all four of us went out and watched it together. We haven’t gone out and done a family movie since the last Lord of the Rings, unless my memory cheats me.

Close to the end of the movie Kusanagi’s downloaded herself into a naked, not quite complete sex droid (she’s an anatomically incorrect life sized jointed doll), and she’s fighting back to back with Batou. Once he recognizes her, he drapes a vest over her; partly to upgrade her to ‘human’ and partly so he doesn’t shoot her by accident because apart from style it’s hard to tell her from all the other sex droids, which are energetically trying to kill him. She says, “You haven’t changed,” and I just melted. I love guys like that.

As I feared, my left arm is a collection of pain and weakness this morning. I always get like this from a flu shot, although from what I hear you really don’t want the flu that’s going around. If the company is going to give it to me for the price of a latte, you’re damned straight I’ll take them up on it.

When we got home, Kate and Keith and I sat around the puzzle (beer cans from the US…) and finished it. Keith and I had been working desultorily on it for a couple of days. Next I’ll pull out the other puzzle I acquired recently, which is a whole bunch of Route 66 signs from the US. Anything that puts us in the same place and time without fighting. Or spending money.

I am so happy to be wrong about the post election riots I can’t tell you. I am glad the losers are deciding Don’t Get Mad Get Organized.

Pic shown isn’t from the movie, but it is Kusanagi…. and whatever you do, don’t Google pix for Kusanagi without specificing Ghost in the Shell, unless you want to see a LOT of pictures of an extremely attractive naked woman, because Kusanagi (which means Grass cutter) is one of Japan’s biggest porn stars. Not that I’m encouraging you to look or anything. It was a BIT of a surprise at 6:50 at the morning. Okay, my eyes ARE open now….

A LINK WHICH NO LONGER WORKS

I don’t know which is funnier, the picture or the thoughtful disquisition on the picture. Made me laugh though, which just goes to show you that PMS doesn’t make me lose my sense of humour. Grrrossssss!!! ha ha ha. Some of the other signs are pretty good, but this one was the best I saw.

From Eurekalert. Just remember, when the crap hits the fan, it’s triage that counts. Remember also that Spain has had multiple bomb attacks before from the Basque separatists, so they knew right away what they were dealing with and HAD PROCEDURES IN PLACE. It was also very nice of the terrorists to schedule the blast for when there was the largest number of medical personnel available. (This is called black humour….)

I was introduced to the notion of triage by my parents when I was very young, and I have found it a useful concept throughout my life. It comes from the battlefield. You divide the wounded into three piles. This one can be saved if I attend to him right away. This one will die no matter what I do. And this one will live until I can get to him.

Not to be an armchair strategist or anything, but I’d LOVE it if we went through our product line at work with red crosses painted on our foreheads.

Dealing with casualties from a terrorist attack

Lessons learnt from the Madrid bombing

Doctors from one of the two hospitals closest to the Madrid bombings have described their experience of March 11th, 2004 in an article published today in Critical Care. Dr Gutierrez de Ceballos and colleagues explain how they organised the hospital to deal with the influx of casualties, as well as analysing severity of injuries and survival rate. The lessons they learnt are invaluable while future terrorist attacks remain a threat. Dr Gutierrez de Ceballos and colleagues are based at the Gregorio Mara��n University General Hospital (GMUGH), the largest public hospital in Madrid. Their article warns that overtriage can inundate hospitals, compromising care of those who need it most. They also demonstrate how immediate organisation to evacuate patients and setting up triage and information centres helped prevent medical staff being overwhelmed, enabling them to save the lives of more than 80% of the critically injured.

The Madrid explosions injured more than 2000 people, and 312 of these casualties were taken to GMUGH. The authors conclude that this was probably overtriage to GMUGH, which could have been life-threatening if less medical staff were available. They write, “the bombings occurred shortly before the start of a midweek workday when most clinicians and medical personnel were on their way to work or already in hospital, and night shifts were still on duty. This, together with empty operating rooms and personnel waiting for the first scheduled cases, proved decisive for the adequacy of the medical and surgical response at GMUGH and other hospitals. Had the blasts occurred just one hour later, the whole situation would have been much worse and very difficult to handle.”

Eric R Frykberg, Professor of Surgery at the University of Florida College of Medicine and the author of a number of articles related to this subject, endorses their findings in his commentary also published in Critical Care. He emphasises “preventing as much as possible the arrival of so many noncritical victims to a definitive care hospital by performing triage first at outside sites before allowing them to inundate the hospital.”

Of the 312 patients taken to GMUGH, just 91 were hospitalised, 89 of them (28.5%) for more than 24 hours. Sixty-two patients had superficial bruises or emotional shock. 41% of the 243 patients with more severe injuries had suffered perforation of the ear drum, 40% had chest injuries, 36% had shrapnel wounds. Fractures, first or second degree burns, eye lesions, head trauma and abdominal injuries were also common. The pattern of injuries is consistent with other terrorist bombings. One of the unusual aspects of GMUGH’s experience was the large number of blast lung injuries (BLI). The 63% incidence (17 cases) of BLI seen in GMUGH’s critical patients was higher than previously published results, and “probably reflects a bias in triage of many severely wounded patients to our hospital, which was closest to the blasts”, say the authors.

32 victims sent to GMUGH needed 34 surgical procedures on the day of the blast. Twenty-nine casualties (12% of the total or 32.5% of those hospitalised) were deemed in critical condition, and two died within minutes of arrival. Twenty-seven casualties were admitted to intensive care units, and were assessed with the Injury Severity Score (ISS) and Acute Physiology And Chronic Health Evaluation (APACHE) II scales in the first 24 hours. Three patients later died of their injuries.

GMUGH dealt with this influx of severely injured patients “with virtually no warning” by immediately performing all of the “appropriate procedures”, says Frykberg. According to Gutierrez de Ceballos, “Immediate action was taken to cancel all scheduled surgical intervention and 161 hospitalized patients were discharged in less than 2 hours. A number of patients in the intensive care unit and surgical intensive care unit were evacuated to intermediate-care units. The 123 patients under observation at the Emergency Department (ED) before the blasts occurred were either discharged home when appropriate or transferred to the wards, and only 10 of them remained at the ED at 9.30 a.m. All elective diagnostic procedures were deferred. At the same time, the Teaching Pavillion, adjacent to the ED, was set as information center for the families, authorities and the media. Triage was performed by senior faculty at the entrance to the ED, and lasted until around 10.30 a.m.”

The authors conclude, “All in all, common sense, diligence in the triage of patients and serenity seemed to prevail after the initial unavoidable chaos and emotional trauma common to these situations. There was in fact an abundance of medical teams, nursing staff, and resources to treat the critically injured, and no critically injured patient had a delay in treatment.”

It’s too bad that Bush won again.

Went to writer’s group last night and had a thoughtful time, as usual.

My heart appears to be staying put, which is a relief, I must say.

As a concerned neighbour, what should I do about the noisy domestic dispute currently happening across the border? I am afraid to intervene because I am more afraid of the cops than I am of the neighbours. My conscience is killing me; I am worried about the children and I think everyone who lives over there may all be quite psychotic because the radios and tvs – all 2500 of them – are running at top volume day and night so I can scarcely think! Please advise me, I’m at my wits’ end!

Concerned Canuckistani

I’d be THRILLED if she ran the question… but she’s a little busy today.

Hm. So Washington lost and the Packers won. It’s a wonderful omen… wonder if the GOP is superstitious? I am watching the election hysteria with the powerful calm of a woman with a good prescription (actually that’s not true, I’m not taking anything except vitamins these days). The hysteria at home continues apace. I’d repeat some of the conversations I’ve been having with my spouse, except that it would be abusive merely to report the truth.

I will own that there are times when our house resembles nothing so much as a junk store run by an elderly miser. I will admit that our yard looks like an outtake from a horror movie. I will even admit that I’m not the best housekeeper in the world. But Paul, I can’t do a damned thing about the ceiling height, so I’d appreciate it if you just dropped the subject; short of an explosion, which would be satisfying but temporary, there’s not much I can do about it.

There, that was dignified, and I didn’t even swear.

Must paint house. Slime green walls. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh !!! can’t deal with the slime green walls any more. Must have fan in bathroom (actually a fan in both bathrooms would be nice, but one thing at a time, dear Goddess). Oh, and I mean fan in the sense of a rotating device for air, not a science fiction fan, although I can count at least three science fiction fans who can adorn my bathroom ANYtime.

I light a candle for Keith, the bus driver and my doctor, all of whom provided personal and substantial help when I had my arrhythmia yesterday. Paul thought I was cracking wise until he took my pulse. My heart was leaping around in my chest like a bass drum being kicked around by teens in army boots and a ‘roid rage. Finally settled down about 10 last night. I woke up a lot last night to check that I wasn’t dead yet and then went back to sleep. Paul sleeping peacefully next to me made that much easier. Now I’m going back to work, where my heart can be still and calm.

I should probably do something about that but when my doctor told me to drink ice water and I immediately felt better… like LOTS better… I figure it’s not even a little tiny heart attack. It’s more like…. middle age. Wish it hadn’t started on the bus though, I feel sorry for the woman who was sitting next to me while I rocked back and forth moaning, Ach, I’m gonna die, and I didn’t do the dishes.

Dreamed last night about a school, run by a married couple, who were trying to run the school and get an acrimonious divorce at the same time, and the school was in a very big house, and I dreamed seeing an old coworker from Montreal who was very underwhelmed at seeing me again, sigh. But her friend was a lot more civilized and bummed me a smoke. And we played with rainbow coloured box kites, and there was a big storeroom full of neat stuff.

I’m off coffee for the duration it can’t be doing anything good for those palpitations. Badaboom!

Pic was provided by Brother Jerome – second time he got it to bloom. Lexi is madly allergic to them, so if you’re reading this don’t start sneezing when you see the pic, just enjoy the glorious symmetry and strangeness of the inflorescence.

On a more troubled note….IT WAS SNOWING at the top of the hill this morning. Since I am no longer swearing on my blog, I cannot precisely express the wave of bilious fury which coursed through my body when my brain finally acknowledged that indeed, that white sloppy stuff pasting itself with such vigour to the bus windscreen was NOT Oobleck, but snow. I had the same realization as everyone on the bus, and we all went “EEEEWWWWWW!!!!” at about the same time and volume. There followed a spate of subdued profanity and the sound of umbrellas snapping open. By the way, in Scotland, that’s pronounced Aw Naw, Snaw!

The blessing of the animals went extremely well. People talked briefly and happily about their animals, living and dead, and I am very glad I didn’t bring my two in, even in picture form – there was plenty of action anyway. I light candles for Kira and Zeek! who are okay as companion animals go. There will never be another Bounce; all I can do is ask God for a cat that will sit in my lap as I type. About three people commented on my outfit – nothing negative. Jumping Jimmy Christmas, if I can wear this to church, maybe it’s too square for Fet Night? 1 down, 4 openings/closings to go.

Off to Stuporstore soon to pick up supplies. I really feel it when I don’t take my vitamins; missed them last night for some reason.

You won’t believe it, but I found another pumpkin out back. This one’s the size of a soccer ball. I think I’ll just eat it, after I take out the seeds.

And screw grass. I am going to grow pumpkins next year. Everywhere. Off of everything. Whole front yard. And sunflowers. Billions of dem. You will see. It will be a symphony of yellow and orange.

Katie was punking me, the little tad, so I am glad I didn’t unleash the full force of my squirrelly wrath. To get the full flavour of this cultural reference, go to illwillpress.com and listen to the squirrel sing about…. ten guesses, squirelly wrath.

I am now working on a routine about tattoos that move. This is because the technology for this is closer than you think and I believe that as a cultural commentator I need to prepare you for the notion that the next time you go down to the swirlpool at the rec centre there will be a guy with a pornographic and moving tattoo. Sitting next to you. You know, two skeletons having sex doggy style and the head keeps falling off the one on top, endlessly looping. (Thanks to Vampire Mamma for providing this image, big wink). It’ll be skeletons because then the guy can tell the cop They’re wrestling, ossifer. Honest. Okay, last bloody Halloween skullington etc reference this year. My children will be amused… yours, maybe not so much. And I can think of other tattoos that move, dogs that bark, devil girls that wink and angel wings that flap. Flags that wave, for those patriotic types. Motion capture of favorite artists dancing or singing or otherwise flailing about. And all run off your body’s electrical system. Yes, I know it sounds bizarre, but it’s CLOSER THAN YOU THINK! I’m going to get a scorpion that waves its front claws and then tries to sink its stinger into you. Hai! Ya harri hoy! Oi! Or maybe I won’t.

I am so lucky to have friends like Mike, because if I didn’t know him I would not have met people like Trent and Joe and Sue and Tori and Stephanie and her amazing mother Paddy and people like Morgan and Curtis and all the other people at the party last night. I drank mead for the first time last night. It was …. interesting. Not definitive though.

Didn’t make the Fetish Ball; my unindicted co-conspirators bailed due to illness. Frankly I was in collapsing mode myself – I think I was in bed by 8:30 last night.

My happy family illusion has been shattered, for reasons I won’t post, but one may infer what one likes from Katie not having slept here last night. I have already devised an appropriate punishment; it will require tremendous restraint and diplomacy on my part to make it effective, but the results will be worth it, if only for the grace that self-discipline brings.

Off today to church for the blessing of the animals. Although I will be striking myself from the church rolls as of New Years’ I will continue to support the church financially, mostly because after the sodding hard work of the search committee it would be a shame to lose Rev Katie. Also, I was due to open and close the church for the entire month of November, and so, and so, I will, because it’s a bear of a job, really it is, and one of my fave people at the church got stuck with doing twice as much opening and closing as she was supposed to (when her hubby was sick and she was antsy (justifiably so) about leaving him) and I can’t stand the idea of sticking somebody else with it since I just loathe doing it myself. See, the church doesn’t have its own building. We’re camped out at Place Maillardville, which is financially very easy to take but means that we don’t get taken SERIOUSLY. We don’t have a big spire with a revolving purple question mark, you see, so we don’t have visibility.

Saw my first misty blue aircraft parked out front the Air Canada hangar today. It’s pearlescent paint, just to add to the hardness to repair and expense of it all. It would be beautiful… if I couldn’t see it for what it is. Honestly, who comes up with this stuff? ARE they doing it so I can make fun of it, and WHEN will they stop? I’m running out of politely cruel comments, and my adoring public doesn’t seem to like it when I’m scatalogical. I read the review in the G&M review of books of yesterday of Robert Milton’s monomaniacally self-serving screed… it was praised. Very praised. And I will get it out of the library and read it, partly because I need something to prop up my blood pressure, and partly because I want to see if the ghostwriters were worth it. Paul just sighed when I told him about it. I think he’s at the load line for Robert Milton anything right about now.

Committed labour unrest last week, again, but this time properly. I got an email from my adopted younger brother Jerome (him what I took to my mother and said, “I stand in sibling relationship to this man, please bless him”) and hooked up a buddy of his who was recently laid off from “an interesting high tech start up here in Vancouver” with the hiring authority inside the company, neatly bypassing our …. um…. how do I put this accurately but kindly…. VERY BUSY HR department. That covers it without blowing my cover, if you know what I mean. Hope he gets hired. He owes me a beer if he does. And so does a certain program manager, come to think of it. I know I don’t talk about work much, but I felt this was a mild enough anecdote to share. God knows I don’t want to share the latest REAL piece of humour out of the office. One of these days… hey Glen, you reading this? One of these days my webmeister will pound some new ways of having a blog into my head and I’ll have a private area, members only, where the deserving and the undeserving alike, and all those who have ever bought me beer, will be able to view the pictures that I dare not publicly post, like the photoshopped company sign which is a freaking MASTERPIECE. You, know the kind where people look at it, howl laughing and then say, frowning, Some people have WAY too much free time. And I’ll post all my routines there, and all the naked pictures of me. It’ll be swell. No, not RECENT naked pictures. The art shots, the black and white pix, I had taken when I was 21. I can only think of two people who might conceivably be interested in recent naked pictures of me, and they can just ASK me if they want to see them, since they live in Vancouver. I know at least one person who’s going to ask me NOT to give him the password… you know who you are.

Had to scrape a very thick layer of frost off the car this am. Very glad I got Keith to harvest old smiley face for me yesterday. You have to admit, that’s one cute punkin. The colour is actually a very saturated yellow – it’s a heritage pumpkin, designed to be eaten and not carved, so the flesh is about 8 centimetres thick. I held the knife up and said, Oh Pumpkin Carving Spirits, guide my knife. Look what happened! Anyway, when I finished with this pumpkin, I was irresistably reminded of my brother Jeff, and I can’t for the life of me think why. It just reminds me of him. It doesn’t look like him at all – Jeff has a much nicer complexion, for starters – but something about the expression is just, I don’t know, Jeff like. Maybe my mother will explain it to me.

Shooooot, gotta get cookies out of oven. Okay, next batch is in. Yup, this batch is for coffee after church. Chocolate chip pecan cookies….. perfectly cooked. That lovely crunchy, about two minutes before they start to burn doneness. The pecans exploding with crunchy nutty goodness. The premium grade dark chocolate chips. REAL BUTTER. Yes indeed. Can’t you feel your arteries clogging? You know you can.