Looks like the greatest leader since Moses has come up with some incontrovertible evidence that, nuclear deal or not, Iran is just months away from a nuclear weapon. Yes, just like they've been months away from a nuclear weapon since Netanyahu's first stint as PM a quarter century ago.
The entire expose on Israeli media had a strong whiff of Colin Powell's magic vial about it, but nevertheless, it was good enough for Bibi's sock puppet in the White House.
Today's PR stunt was exquisitely timed. We're just a few days away from the anticipated renewal of the Iran Nuclear deal by Washington. You can kiss that goodbye.
Both Trump and Netanyahu have their plates full with domestic scandals that they're more than keen to distract their respective electorates from.
Netanyahu needs to win back the diaspora, where the faint of heart, like Natalie Portman, have looked askance at the footage of IDF snipers gunning down unarmed Palestinians.
And Trump is wallowing in praise for allegedly finessing the DRK stand-down.
Oh look, he's a man of peace!
Ya right!
Perhaps there's been a trade-off made... we give up on Korea but all hands on deck for the imminent destruction of Iran.
The Farm Manager has family in the Holy Land. Might be a good time for that extended visit to Falling Downs they've long threatened.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Sunday, April 29, 2018
Let's award this deserving eight year old the Nobel Peace Prize
A "rising star" at the Asian Awards don't mean shit compared to a Nobel Prize.
Ask Obama.
After all, the "Asian Awards" is the creation of a couple of brown folks from the colonies who have prospered by not shirking the yoke of the oppressor. In fact, their connivance with the colonisers took them all the way to the House of Lords!
Last time I saw little Bana she was snuggled up in Erdogan's arms. Amazing how short the trip from Erdogan to Hollywood can be, isn't it? That eight year old obviously has a top-shelf management team.
So lets get on with it, shall we? I mean the neophyte president got a Nobel Peace Prize before he'd even done anything, but he had a top-drawer management team too.
Malala became the youngest Nobel Peace Prize recipient for surviving a Taliban bullet, again because she had proper management. Hey, those Talibans spray a lot of bullets around; you can't just go around presenting every Taliban bullet survivor a Nobel Peace Prize.
It comes down to savvy management.
It's been an up and down week here at Falling Downs. On Wednesday I saw the first squished frog on the roadway when I took the hounds for their morning walk. That's normally a sure sign of spring.
Then on Thursday, everything turned white again.
On Friday, Werner died.
I've spent the two days since trying to make sense of it all... but at least most of the white has melted away.
Maybe next week will be better.
Ask Obama.
After all, the "Asian Awards" is the creation of a couple of brown folks from the colonies who have prospered by not shirking the yoke of the oppressor. In fact, their connivance with the colonisers took them all the way to the House of Lords!
Last time I saw little Bana she was snuggled up in Erdogan's arms. Amazing how short the trip from Erdogan to Hollywood can be, isn't it? That eight year old obviously has a top-shelf management team.
So lets get on with it, shall we? I mean the neophyte president got a Nobel Peace Prize before he'd even done anything, but he had a top-drawer management team too.
Malala became the youngest Nobel Peace Prize recipient for surviving a Taliban bullet, again because she had proper management. Hey, those Talibans spray a lot of bullets around; you can't just go around presenting every Taliban bullet survivor a Nobel Peace Prize.
It comes down to savvy management.
It's been an up and down week here at Falling Downs. On Wednesday I saw the first squished frog on the roadway when I took the hounds for their morning walk. That's normally a sure sign of spring.
Then on Thursday, everything turned white again.
On Friday, Werner died.
I've spent the two days since trying to make sense of it all... but at least most of the white has melted away.
Maybe next week will be better.
Saturday, April 28, 2018
RIP Onkel Werner
No doubt Werner Otto Packull will be well and fondly eulogised for his contributions in the field of reformation history and his lengthy career at Conrad Grebel College. I want to remember another Werner.
Not that his most popular book, Hutterite Beginnings, wasn't an authentic page-turner. It's a refreshingly accessible book by academic standards. His extended treatment of the complex relationship between technology and the spread of ideas in the post-Gutenberg era makes riveting reading, even if you're not particularly interested in the history of Christianity per se.
But long before he became a respected historian, he won my undying respect by kicking a soccer ball clear over the roof of that two and a half storey pile of yellow bricks we then called home. Man, was that impressive! And his tree-climbing prowess was truly a wonder to behold! That house was surrounded by towering maples and spruce, and I remember watching in wide-eyed amazement his clowning around forty feet off the ground.
Werner was equally at home combing through dusty European archives as he was changing engines in his various Volkswagens. He was a welder long before he became a university professor. If I'm not mistaken, he'd worked on the Second Narrows Bridge in Vancouver just months before its collapse. Perhaps that motivated him to seek out a more sedate line of work!
Later on, as I was kicking around various welding shops, he'd often encourage me to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately, I never got past the welding part, but to this day I remain flattered that he thought I had that kind of brain power. Besides, dusty archives just make me sneeze.
Werner was the first in our family to get a university degree. I remember when he finished that first degree, we had a giant celebratory bonfire with all his undergrad notes. But that was barely the beginning of his adventures in higher education.
I think there was a side of him that missed "handarbeit." He suggested more than once that we open a bicycle repair business in Waterloo. While that idea was, in principle, sound, if perhaps a little ahead of its time, I knew enough to realize that two guys who know everything running a business together could only end badly.
That wasn't his only idea for a business venture. Back in the day, when the village of St. Jacobs was rapidly gentrifying, it retained an authentic old-school blacksmith shop which serviced the many old-order Mennonites in the area.
"You know, Uwe, the fellow who owns the shop is getting on in years. We should buy him out. We could keep the smithy business going, and build up a whole new business bringing tourists in to see a genuine old-fashioned blacksmith shop. We could even bring in busloads of school kids!"
So we pay the old smithy a visit. As the senior partner Werner did most of the talking. After beating around the bush for the better part of an hour, he finally gets to the point and asks the guy, would he be interested in selling?
"Oh gosh," he says, "I sold out a couple years ago. The new owners just keep me around to put on a show for the school tours they bring in." And that was the end of that.
One of the first things he did on being tenured was buy a hundred acre farm up in Mennonite country. (Or possibly Amish... those people all look the same to me.) Somewhere along the line he even came by his own horse and buggy. He'd make the rounds of the old-order folks, picking up a fresh-baked pie here or a summer sausage there.
I recall pulling into one place with him where a sign at the road offered "fence-posts, summer sausage, no Sunday sales." Werner was on a first name basis with the proprietor, of course. I don't believe Werner bought anything; it was just a social call for him, but I was in the mood for some of that old-order summer sausage. The guy asks if I'd like a whole or a half. A whole, I assure him.
A barefoot boy of nine or ten disappears. Couple of minutes later he reappears, and at first glance I thought the kid had misunderstood... but no, that really was a summer sausage... the size of a fence-post! Never mind a whole or a half; I settled for about an eighth.
It was obvious when you witnessed these interactions with Werner's old-order neighbours that they held him in high esteem. Was it the book? Or was it a mutual respect rooted in shared values? Maybe a little of both.
For a time I lived about twenty minutes from that farm. I'd often get a call to join him and his wife Karin for brunch. I drove a truck, and oddly enough, there'd as often as not be some little chore that needed doing that just happened to require a truck! What a happy coincidence! Once in awhile I'd mess with him by showing up on my bicycle.
Working with Werner you soon learned that there were two, and only two, approaches to any job; Werner's way and the wrong way. I remember an entire day spent in the hot sun digging four fence-post holes. With picks and shovels. Pretty sure I'd seen both a post-hole auger and a tractor in his shed, but there was no point bringing it up. We were doing it Werner's way.
Mostly I remember a lot of laughs and a thousand brilliant conversations. He was around the age I am now when he took a turn onto the Alzheimer highway. After that, it was just a matter of watching helplessly as he slowly vanished into the distant mists.
Mach's gut, lieber Onkel. You were a mentor, a role model, an inspiration, and most of all, a friend.
I miss you.
Not that his most popular book, Hutterite Beginnings, wasn't an authentic page-turner. It's a refreshingly accessible book by academic standards. His extended treatment of the complex relationship between technology and the spread of ideas in the post-Gutenberg era makes riveting reading, even if you're not particularly interested in the history of Christianity per se.
But long before he became a respected historian, he won my undying respect by kicking a soccer ball clear over the roof of that two and a half storey pile of yellow bricks we then called home. Man, was that impressive! And his tree-climbing prowess was truly a wonder to behold! That house was surrounded by towering maples and spruce, and I remember watching in wide-eyed amazement his clowning around forty feet off the ground.
Werner was equally at home combing through dusty European archives as he was changing engines in his various Volkswagens. He was a welder long before he became a university professor. If I'm not mistaken, he'd worked on the Second Narrows Bridge in Vancouver just months before its collapse. Perhaps that motivated him to seek out a more sedate line of work!
Later on, as I was kicking around various welding shops, he'd often encourage me to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately, I never got past the welding part, but to this day I remain flattered that he thought I had that kind of brain power. Besides, dusty archives just make me sneeze.
Werner was the first in our family to get a university degree. I remember when he finished that first degree, we had a giant celebratory bonfire with all his undergrad notes. But that was barely the beginning of his adventures in higher education.
I think there was a side of him that missed "handarbeit." He suggested more than once that we open a bicycle repair business in Waterloo. While that idea was, in principle, sound, if perhaps a little ahead of its time, I knew enough to realize that two guys who know everything running a business together could only end badly.
That wasn't his only idea for a business venture. Back in the day, when the village of St. Jacobs was rapidly gentrifying, it retained an authentic old-school blacksmith shop which serviced the many old-order Mennonites in the area.
"You know, Uwe, the fellow who owns the shop is getting on in years. We should buy him out. We could keep the smithy business going, and build up a whole new business bringing tourists in to see a genuine old-fashioned blacksmith shop. We could even bring in busloads of school kids!"
So we pay the old smithy a visit. As the senior partner Werner did most of the talking. After beating around the bush for the better part of an hour, he finally gets to the point and asks the guy, would he be interested in selling?
"Oh gosh," he says, "I sold out a couple years ago. The new owners just keep me around to put on a show for the school tours they bring in." And that was the end of that.
One of the first things he did on being tenured was buy a hundred acre farm up in Mennonite country. (Or possibly Amish... those people all look the same to me.) Somewhere along the line he even came by his own horse and buggy. He'd make the rounds of the old-order folks, picking up a fresh-baked pie here or a summer sausage there.
I recall pulling into one place with him where a sign at the road offered "fence-posts, summer sausage, no Sunday sales." Werner was on a first name basis with the proprietor, of course. I don't believe Werner bought anything; it was just a social call for him, but I was in the mood for some of that old-order summer sausage. The guy asks if I'd like a whole or a half. A whole, I assure him.
A barefoot boy of nine or ten disappears. Couple of minutes later he reappears, and at first glance I thought the kid had misunderstood... but no, that really was a summer sausage... the size of a fence-post! Never mind a whole or a half; I settled for about an eighth.
It was obvious when you witnessed these interactions with Werner's old-order neighbours that they held him in high esteem. Was it the book? Or was it a mutual respect rooted in shared values? Maybe a little of both.
For a time I lived about twenty minutes from that farm. I'd often get a call to join him and his wife Karin for brunch. I drove a truck, and oddly enough, there'd as often as not be some little chore that needed doing that just happened to require a truck! What a happy coincidence! Once in awhile I'd mess with him by showing up on my bicycle.
Working with Werner you soon learned that there were two, and only two, approaches to any job; Werner's way and the wrong way. I remember an entire day spent in the hot sun digging four fence-post holes. With picks and shovels. Pretty sure I'd seen both a post-hole auger and a tractor in his shed, but there was no point bringing it up. We were doing it Werner's way.
Mostly I remember a lot of laughs and a thousand brilliant conversations. He was around the age I am now when he took a turn onto the Alzheimer highway. After that, it was just a matter of watching helplessly as he slowly vanished into the distant mists.
Mach's gut, lieber Onkel. You were a mentor, a role model, an inspiration, and most of all, a friend.
I miss you.
Friday, April 27, 2018
The perils of world domination
In the midst of near universal euphoria over the Amazon numbers released today, the LA Times chose to drop this stinkbomb.
Author Michael Hiltzig brings a little rain to the celebratory parade by pointing out that Amazon trades at a PE ratio ten times that of the S&P average. That's way whacked for a company that started out as an on-line bookstore.
But it's so much more than that now...
It's the biggest on-line bookstore, it's a CIA front. It's the biggest on-line grocer, biggest on-line retailer, biggest cloud computing player, it's a CIA front... did I mention the fact that the venture capital department at the CIA has been a big Amazon backer since the bookstore days?
Surely you don't believe that the fact this CIA front owns the Washington Post is mere coincidence?
There's big money to be made in world domination.
But...
Quite aside from a 250 PE being pure pie in the sky, there's other reasons to short Amazon.
Fantasies of world domination tend to end badly.
Author Michael Hiltzig brings a little rain to the celebratory parade by pointing out that Amazon trades at a PE ratio ten times that of the S&P average. That's way whacked for a company that started out as an on-line bookstore.
But it's so much more than that now...
It's the biggest on-line bookstore, it's a CIA front. It's the biggest on-line grocer, biggest on-line retailer, biggest cloud computing player, it's a CIA front... did I mention the fact that the venture capital department at the CIA has been a big Amazon backer since the bookstore days?
Surely you don't believe that the fact this CIA front owns the Washington Post is mere coincidence?
There's big money to be made in world domination.
But...
Quite aside from a 250 PE being pure pie in the sky, there's other reasons to short Amazon.
Fantasies of world domination tend to end badly.
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
Good news and bad news
The good news is that Falling Downs is now a waterfront property. I could put the canoe in and paddle through the marsh across the way clear down to Bass Lake, 500 yards distant.
We're also waterview. When you can see the sun glinting off Indian Creek enough that you gotta worry about the basement, you're leaking out of "good news" territory.
Checked the basement a few minutes ago...
Good news!
No sign of leakage!
We're still in the good news zone.
In a bout of positivity around a year or two ago, or maybe three or four, I agreed with the Farm Manager that we didn't really need cable anymore. After all, she just livestreams Netflix 24/7, and I'm sick of watching pointless NASCAR races every Sunday afternoon anyway.
Who needs Bell?
Who needs Rogers?
Got to admit that call got me a few brownie points at the time...
But that was then, and this is now!
Now, both the Raptors and the Leafs are in the playoffs! Like, right now!
What was I thinking?!
So I'm stuck trying to find a live feed for those games on one of those betting websites, with mixed results. It's kinda sorta working... I just saw Toronto go up 4-3 on a shorthander.
And I can see the Raps are up by one.
Go Raptors!
Go Bruins!
We're also waterview. When you can see the sun glinting off Indian Creek enough that you gotta worry about the basement, you're leaking out of "good news" territory.
Checked the basement a few minutes ago...
Good news!
No sign of leakage!
We're still in the good news zone.
In a bout of positivity around a year or two ago, or maybe three or four, I agreed with the Farm Manager that we didn't really need cable anymore. After all, she just livestreams Netflix 24/7, and I'm sick of watching pointless NASCAR races every Sunday afternoon anyway.
Who needs Bell?
Who needs Rogers?
Got to admit that call got me a few brownie points at the time...
But that was then, and this is now!
Now, both the Raptors and the Leafs are in the playoffs! Like, right now!
What was I thinking?!
So I'm stuck trying to find a live feed for those games on one of those betting websites, with mixed results. It's kinda sorta working... I just saw Toronto go up 4-3 on a shorthander.
And I can see the Raps are up by one.
Go Raptors!
Go Bruins!
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Two thumbs up for Natalie Portman
It takes balls the size of watermelons to stare down the Israeli lobby.
Looks like Natalie got them balls.
Anybody who felt optimistic about the "Jewish State" back in the day has had their delusions shattered over and over again.
I believe the turning point came when the government of the time offered carte blanche to the Russian emigres.
These were folks extremely well versed in the politics of exclusion, largely because they'd experienced it in their homeland.
Now they dominate Israeli politics, and they're really keen on excluding anyone who doesn't look like them or think like them.
Edgar Bronfman is spinning in his grave...
Looks like Natalie got them balls.
Anybody who felt optimistic about the "Jewish State" back in the day has had their delusions shattered over and over again.
I believe the turning point came when the government of the time offered carte blanche to the Russian emigres.
These were folks extremely well versed in the politics of exclusion, largely because they'd experienced it in their homeland.
Now they dominate Israeli politics, and they're really keen on excluding anyone who doesn't look like them or think like them.
Edgar Bronfman is spinning in his grave...
Ramping up the dumbing-down in Retardation Nation
I've long suspected that the editing function at Canada's newspaper of record has become the province of their unpaid interns. Now I'm wondering what high schools they're recruiting those interns from.
Take this caption from a photo on the back page of the sports section; "Seene last year in her home in White Rock, B.C., Olympic weightlifter Christine Girard wear her bronze medal..."
Really? Two flubs in one sentence?
Or, how about informing the reader, in a story about the DNC lawsuit against Russia, Wikileaks, and the 2016 Trump campaign, that Trump is a Republican? I would think that anybody picking up a Globe and Mail already knew that.
That story in itself promises to be an entertaining footnote in the Big Book 'o Bullshit & Bamboozlement documenting the last fifty years of America's descent into self-parody. Nuclear-armed self-parody with a Manhattan condo hustler in the White House making America great again. What could be funnier than that?
After a year and a half of various investigations into the matter have turned up nothing but speculation and innuendo, the same DNC brain trust that originally promoted Trump's candidacy and stabbed Bernie in the back figures they'll get to the bottom of things with a lawsuit?
Really?
Elsewhere, guest self-promoter Rick Lash has some tips on unleashing your inner genius. Although it's probably a little late for me, I'm a sucker for this self-helpy shit. It's nice to think that with a little tweaking I coulda been another da Vinci or Elon Musk.
While Lash doesn't mention it, Musk's true genius has been in convincing investors that Tesla has the same market value as Ford.
Ford builds more cars every month than Tesla has built in its history. Ford turns a profit and pays dividends.
Tesla burns through borrowed money like a East Hastings drunk goes through Listerine. Clearly, the only thing propping up Tesla's share price is a mass contagion of wishful thinking, but for now at least, the companies have equal value.
That's genius alright!
Retardation Nation indeed.
Take this caption from a photo on the back page of the sports section; "Seene last year in her home in White Rock, B.C., Olympic weightlifter Christine Girard wear her bronze medal..."
Really? Two flubs in one sentence?
Or, how about informing the reader, in a story about the DNC lawsuit against Russia, Wikileaks, and the 2016 Trump campaign, that Trump is a Republican? I would think that anybody picking up a Globe and Mail already knew that.
That story in itself promises to be an entertaining footnote in the Big Book 'o Bullshit & Bamboozlement documenting the last fifty years of America's descent into self-parody. Nuclear-armed self-parody with a Manhattan condo hustler in the White House making America great again. What could be funnier than that?
After a year and a half of various investigations into the matter have turned up nothing but speculation and innuendo, the same DNC brain trust that originally promoted Trump's candidacy and stabbed Bernie in the back figures they'll get to the bottom of things with a lawsuit?
Really?
Elsewhere, guest self-promoter Rick Lash has some tips on unleashing your inner genius. Although it's probably a little late for me, I'm a sucker for this self-helpy shit. It's nice to think that with a little tweaking I coulda been another da Vinci or Elon Musk.
While Lash doesn't mention it, Musk's true genius has been in convincing investors that Tesla has the same market value as Ford.
Ford builds more cars every month than Tesla has built in its history. Ford turns a profit and pays dividends.
Tesla burns through borrowed money like a East Hastings drunk goes through Listerine. Clearly, the only thing propping up Tesla's share price is a mass contagion of wishful thinking, but for now at least, the companies have equal value.
That's genius alright!
Retardation Nation indeed.
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