Going swimming in your snowmobile suit

And I’m not talking ice-fishing here; I’m talking let’s hitch up the boat and get out on Georgian Bay! I’m sitting in my car by the boat launch in Wiarton, just a couple blocks from the hospital that provided me such a hospitable (!) stay a month ago. It’s a bright sun-drenched morning with a brisk breeze blowing straight up Colpoy’s Bay out of the North-East. It’s gotta be friggin’ cold out there! According to Environment Canada the air temp last night was 4 C, and the water temp was 3. That’s a scant two degrees above ice forming on the surface. There’s a medium chop and the waves are at a half-metre. Nobody in their right mind goes out on a day like this. Of course, anyone who knows “serious” fishermen, or “fishers” if we must, will know that serious fishermen are by definition not in their right minds, and as if to prove my point, at that very moment a small aluminum boat comes bobbing around the end of the breakwater, heading for the boat launch. I can’t be sure, but it looks like Billy-Bob from Desboro, his brother Darrell, and his other brother Darrell, and get this; the three of them are bundled up in snowmobile suits! At least they’re getting more than three weeks use out of their winter gear! I wouldn’t want to vouch for the buoyancy of a water-logged snowmobile suit in a worst-case scenario, but hey, maybe these lads are really strong swimmers. Just as a point of interest, I’m a mere two kilometres from the Wiarton International Airport. This must be one of Canada’s smallest international airports, but I did some digging, and they are an official entry point to Canada. As far as I know, never in its history has Wiarton ever hosted any regular scheduled foreign flights. The Canadian Border Services personnel posted here must have one of the sweetest gigs in all the land. Bet they have lots of free time for fishing! I like to come here to contemplate the sorry state of our world. It’s impossible to follow current events without getting mired in grim foreboding. Maybe that new Pope can bring some hope? He’s from Chicago, after all! Just like Barry O, another purveyor of empty hopes. Then again, Rahm Emanuel, Richard Daley, and Al Capone were from Chicago too… The Trump Circus, meanwhile, has become a full-blown three-ring international extravaganza. Mafia Don has thus far failed to end the war in Ukraine or the genocide in Gaza, but did manage to stop a Pakistan-India war nobody even saw coming. I’m guessing that’s relatively easy because Pakistan is effectively a US dependency, whereas both Israel and Ukraine have proven far less dependent than many assumed. If there is any hope at all for the Palestinians in Gaza it lies in the fraying of the Israel-USA relationship. Polling shows a majority of the American public across both parties now disapprove of Israel’s policies of ethnic cleansing and mass murder. Prominent Republicans as well as some Dems are balking at criminalizing criticism of Israel. If polling trends continue, there’ll be a stampede of congress-critters abandoning the Chosen People as midterms get closer. The arc of history may not be bending towards justice quite yet, but I detect a shift in the wind. Meanwhile back in my world, I’m focused on recovering some of the strength I’ve lost to CHF. I’ve got a two km track laid out- the first km on the flat, the second up the Burgess Sideroad hill. First timed it at 45 minutes a couple days after I was discharged. As a reference point, that used to be my time for a a 5 km walk. Anyway, I’m doing it in 20-25 minutes now, so obviously some recovery is possible. When there’s not a whole lotta hope, hold tight to what you can find.

The bong people

The Holy Father passed to his reward on Easter Monday. Of course he did! Funny how his health management, or should I say, death management team, managed to make his demise rhyme like that. The only possible dates more apropos for the death of a pontiff are Good Friday and Easter Sunday. A week before, on what is known in households more pious than mine as Holy Monday, my earthly father went to his reward. He was a modest enough man and made no claims to holiness. In fact, he would have seen his demise on Holy Monday as a happy accident rather than pre-ordained. It was only a week before that a keen young doctor had informed me, after a brief hospital stay, that I was fast in the grip of congestive heart failure, or CHF as the acronym-happy medical profession shorthands it. That’s something I’d normally consider a newsworthy development, but under the circumstances I decided to keep it under my hat for the time being. Dad only gets to die once, and I don’t want to steal his thunder. So, the Pope’s a goner, Dad’s a goner, but, at least for now, I’ve got a life to live and many medical appointments to attend. In fact, I had one in Guelph the day after Dad’s funeral. Decided to get a room and stay over instead of making the five hour round trip afresh the next day. Set up camp at the Super Eight out on Woodlawn. It’s right next to the former Holiday Inn Express. I say “former” because during the Covid times the city leased the property and turned it into a homeless shelter. I shit you not! Homeless in Guelph? Y’all come on down to the Holiday Inn and take a load off, courtesy of the Guelph taxpayer! Stay as long as you like! That boondoggle must be over, because they’ve tidied up around the joint and it sports new Hilton badging. Jeez, you just wanna hope they had the fumigators cranked to eleven! But what a beautiful Easter story… death and resurrection! But I digress. At the edge of the parking lot Super Eight’s got a couple picnic tables and a gas BBQ under an enclosure, with a sign; Designated Smoking Area. Don’t let anybody tell you Super Eight has no amenities! I had a good view of the set-up from my room, and it appeared many of the clientele took the sign literally. Nevermind an old codger guiltily pulling on a ciggy, or perhaps even a joint - this crowd brought out the neon-coloured two-foot-tall glass bongs! Oh, well, live and let live, I always say. Next morning, long before anything is astir, I’m the old codger guiltily puffing on a smoke at the picnic table. Somewhere a door slams. There’s three pre-teen girls heading my way, wearing pajamas and carrying a Walmart bag. I quickly stub the smoke because I’m acutely aware I’m setting a bad example. They sit down across from me and pull out a two-foot-tall neon orange bong out of the Walmart bag. Holy shit! Now I’ve seen everything! At some level you want to scream, where are the friggin’ parents, but you know it’s way too late for that. What I learned at my medical appointment was I have two options. One. Put my feet up, fire up a bong, and wait for CHF to carry me to a better place. Two. Put my feet on the ground and lace up the walking shoes. Between diet and exercise I’ll get another ten-fifteen years out of this mortal coil…Or die trying!

Trump-Zellensky and the Angels of Death

I’m pretty sure the entire script for Trump 2.0 is coming out of Dana White’s WWE writer’s workshops. If you can get your mind around that, it explains a lot of otherwise inexplicable shit. Like how a scene that was cut from Godfather III showed up at the Pope’s funeral. Everybody knows that’s how history works. The protagonists sit down alone, and hammer out the future mano a mano. The future of Crimea is Russian. The future of Odessa is Russian too. Unless… As the Great Men of History shape the future there in the Vatican, it’s just Trump and Zelly and some random dudes in swishy floor-length black gowns. Those are the angels! Alas, not all of the angels are working in the employ of Heaven. In fact, there is reason to believe that at least some of them are Putin loyalists. Not sure how Dana’s people will handle that plot twist. Remember in that infamous beat-down in the Oval Office how JD and DJ were tag-teaming Zelly with the “you ain’t got no cards” mantra? Today Trump was admitting he doesn’t have any either. Which leaves the Free World with a stark choice. Do we admit defeat? Or do we make a deal with Putin and call it victory?

Fried chicken; the soul food that healed America

It’s high time we added another name to the pantheon of civil-rights champions who helped America heal after the racial conflicts of the mid 20th century. Colonel Harland Sanders. And for once, he’s neither an African-American nor was he ever a minister in the Christian church, like MLK and John Lewis. But nobody and nothing has brought more American’s together than the Colonel’s secret recipe. Not McDonalds. Not Dominos. Not Taco Bell. I am reminded of KFC’s pivotal role in the history of human rights by this story. Seems the various intelligence agencies in Pakistan have just sleuthed out that KFC is an American company! Who knew? Apparently not those guys!? So, are the Pakistani’s rallying around this champion of Human Rights? No! Instead, they are boycotting it! KFC is American and America funds genocide in Gaza. Therefore, boycott KFC. Case closed! Luckily, America is developing some rules of law to prevent such antisemitic outrages. Already in over half the US states, it is against the law to support the BDS movement, on account the topic makes some folks uncomfortable. Whereas genocide doesn’t.

Netanyahu slams Canada, claims to speak for "civilized" world

Netanyahu as spokesman for the “civilized world?” My God, what depths of depravity have we fallen to? The man has the blood of tens of thousands of Palestinian children on his hands. The Greatest Leader since Moses went off on Carney today because Carney allegedly entertained, however fleetingly, the thought that maybe, just possibly, the IDF has been doing some war-crimey stuff in Gaza. It’s not just the blood of Palestinians. Every Israeli who perished on October 7 and since was a victim of Netanyahu’s corrupt and incompetent government. Every warning about a pending attack was ignored. Border units were withdrawn rather than beefed up. You’d almost think Bibi was deliberately courting calamity. And why not? It’s worked for him many times before! When the going gets tough, you need a strong man at the helm… When that strong man is desperately flailing about to keep his own ass out of jail, the blood on his hands is a mere afterthought. But he presumes to speak for the civilized world. Disgusting!

Better a curveball than a speedball

I tend to be very modest in my consumption of pharmaceutical products. For twenty years there’s been only two items on the shopping list. A couple months ago my doctor added a third, something intended to tamp down the high cholesterol. Shortly thereafter, I noticed an unexpected side effect - my bony ankles were disappearing. No biggie, I thought. Neither I nor anyone else sits around admiring my ankles, so I let things slide, perhaps a little longer than I should have. By the middle of last week fat ankles had become fat feet and fat legs. By the end of the week my abdomen had doubled in size and I was having trouble breathing. It was a major effort to get my pants on, let alone do them up. By Sunday I hadn’t slept for two nights, my face was beginning to puff up, and I was getting worried. I resolved to call the doctor Monday morning. I tell the office I think I’m having a bad reaction to the new meds. The girl tells me the first thing I have to do is get an assessment, and since the office is 100 miles away she says to go to the nearest hospital for that. The nearest hospital is a modest operation in a quaint town on the shores of Georgian Bay. I walk in thinking I’ll be walking out in an hour or two, with a magic potion that’ll make my body shrink. Well! I finally walked out three days later with four new prescriptions and one new diagnosis. In between I got every test that little joint has the technology to administer. The good news is that the liver and kidneys seem to be functioning normally. The bad news, in the doctor’s own words; “your chest ex-ray is lookin’ kinda nasty.” I like the way they get to the point in these small towns. No sense confusing the locals with nonsensical jargon. The diagnosis; congestive heart failure. That’s not something you want to hear, so I had a lot of questions. To my way of thinking, they shouldn’t call it failure as long as the heart is till pumping. Turns out about 70% of folks my age have some sort of cardiovascular disease. When you look at it that way, I’m as boringly normal as I’ve ever been! So, is the party over? Nah… I figure if I stop with the joints and stock up on edibles, I’ll be good to go for long while yet!

Carney's haircut becomes issue in Canadian election

You know you’ve got a vibrant democracy when that happens! Our world has never been as awash in bullshit and flim-flam as it is today. Where oh where are the credible headlines? Where are the debates around the life-and-death issues that make this the most important election of our time? Carney’s haircut is not one of them! These are pivotal times. The values that underpin Western Civilization are under siege as never before; human rights, freedom of speech, democracy itself! Look at how our allies in Europe are backsliding. Just a few months ago VP JD went to Munich to deliver a stern rebuke on how the champions of freedom are dropping the ball on tolerating diversity of opinion. This from a country that’ll deport you if you dare criticize Israel! Speaking of our sacred Western values, they have been on full display in that tragic ruin of a democracy. Murdering 20,000 children is self-defense, you antisemite, you! Any divergence from that view makes you a Hamas supporter, and you richly deserve your fate. Meanwhile, Western Civ’s campaign to save us all from Putin seems to be on the back burner, thanks to that crazed madman Trump unleashing tariff terror on the planet. Holy moly… however did we get to a place where media in his own country declares the Leader of the Free World a crazed madman? Has Freedom fallen? Not quite yet. The Resistance Lives! Just last weekend hundreds of thousands took to the streets in what some Dem party- affiliated PR shop branded the Hands Off movement. Hands off health care! Hands off reproductive rights! Hands off foreign aid! Hands off higher education! Hands off NATO! Say what? Hands off NATO? Really? Ya, the slippery devils almost slipped that past me! In case you haven’t noticed, the US/NATO campaign to save Europe from Putin is struggling mightily. That, I believe, is the main reason we don’t talk much about it. The channel has ben changed… Tariffs tariffs tariffs! And in case that doesn’t work, Trump is already promising even tougher tariffs! The world must be brought to heel! Not sure how that’s going to impress Putin. There’s already 28,000 sanctions on Russia, which have mostly weakened EU countries while their target sports the most robust economy in Europe! It’s enough to make you wonder if Western Civ has lost its way. And in the midst of this existential global mayhem, Canadians face the most important election of our lives. Will we choose the banker’ haircut? Or will we choose PP’s semi-quiff?