The folks at the Toronto Star are mighty pleased with themselves today. Seems their official Trump fib-tracker, Daniel Dale, has been in DC long enough now to have cultivated a source, apparently at Bloomberg, and after a year and a half, he's finally found himself a scoop!
More than a scoop... a BOMBSHELL!
You certainly don't find those in the Star everyday!
The Bloomberg source told Dale that in off-the-record remarks Trump had told them that he's not about to make any compromises with the Canadian side.
So the talks are over for now, the "deadline" not met.
The reason there was a deadline is because the Americans are keen to push this "new" NAFTA through before the newly elected, more leftish, less corrupt president Obrador takes office in December. Nieto is seen as an easy mark in Washington, whereas Obrador might actually stand up for the interests of Mexicans.
No real danger of Canadian team Trudeau-Freeland standing up for Canadian workers. Or Canadian dairy farmers, for that matter. Selling-out has been the modus operandi of both Canadian ruling parties since at least the Avro Arrow era, so that's nothing new. Canada has never really had an authentic industrial policy, settling instead for a branch-plant economic model.
NAFTA was the most noxious bone jammed up the keister of Canada's working class during my life-time. It devastated the industrial heartland of southern Ontario. Just one example; Magna, the Canadian auto-parts giant, built their first Mexican facility in the early nineties. Today they have 32 plants there and employ 28,000 Mexicans. Where are the Canadians who have benefited from this? In the corporate offices and on the shareholder list, that's where.
That reality has nonetheless never stood in the way of Canada's elite opinion makers crowing about the glories of NAFTA. This should not come as a surprise. After all, these are the same people who believe that working at an Amazon warehouse for $30,000 a year is a "good solid middle-class job."
Unfortunately, when our craven toadies at the top have ensured our branch-plant status for generations, they don't hold much of a hand in these renegotiations. As much as we enjoy mocking Trump, he's evidently smart enough to have figured this out.
So Justin and Chrystia, while trying to do their best to make their inevitable capitulation look like a good deal for Canada, have been derailed by Daniel Dale's bombshell.
Does anybody at the Star really believe that we're going to get a better deal next week or next month?
Friday, August 31, 2018
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Neil Richardson for mayor
Neil Richardson is running for mayor of Wiarton. Who is Neil Richardson? I have no clue, but this brief bio in the Wiarton Echo paints him as an affable, down-to-earth type.
There's not a lot of back-ground info there, or any serious insights into what policy positions he might be inclined to take. His campaign slogan, "community first," is a little non-committal too. Ya, who isn't for "community?"
But here's why the think tank here at Falling Downs thinks you should vote for Neil. Me and the Farm Manager were passing through town the other day, when we passed by three fellows who were taking a break from putting up Vote Richardson signs. They appeared to be having a smoke break. As we rolled by, windows down and sunroof open, they gave a friendly wave. We waved back.
A second later, the FM gives a sniff and says, "do you smell that?"
Oh, I smelled that alright! Those lads were having a toke break, not a smoke break!
Anybody who can motivate potheads to get off the couch and get involved in the most grass-roots level of the democratic process deserves your serious consideration.
There's not a lot of back-ground info there, or any serious insights into what policy positions he might be inclined to take. His campaign slogan, "community first," is a little non-committal too. Ya, who isn't for "community?"
But here's why the think tank here at Falling Downs thinks you should vote for Neil. Me and the Farm Manager were passing through town the other day, when we passed by three fellows who were taking a break from putting up Vote Richardson signs. They appeared to be having a smoke break. As we rolled by, windows down and sunroof open, they gave a friendly wave. We waved back.
A second later, the FM gives a sniff and says, "do you smell that?"
Oh, I smelled that alright! Those lads were having a toke break, not a smoke break!
Anybody who can motivate potheads to get off the couch and get involved in the most grass-roots level of the democratic process deserves your serious consideration.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Another idiot politician thanks Amazon for bringing "good" jobs to Canada
His name is Justin. Justin Trudeau. You may have heard of him.
He was busy thanking Amazon at the ground-breaking for the new Fulfillment Centre in Ottawa last week.
Apparently the millionaire pol believes Canadians are on the front lines of the global economy because we are "diverse and innovative."
Well, diversity is our strength, as we all know, so bring on those $14/hour jobs! Just imagine; on that income you should be able to qualify for a mortgage in the $150,000 range... too bad the average Ottawa house goes for $450,000. You'll just have to save up a really big down payment!
Patronizing twaddle about diversity aside, the fact that so many members of our political class seem to think thirty thou a year is a solid middle-class income tells me they are seriously out of touch with the lived reality of most Canadians.
He was busy thanking Amazon at the ground-breaking for the new Fulfillment Centre in Ottawa last week.
Apparently the millionaire pol believes Canadians are on the front lines of the global economy because we are "diverse and innovative."
Well, diversity is our strength, as we all know, so bring on those $14/hour jobs! Just imagine; on that income you should be able to qualify for a mortgage in the $150,000 range... too bad the average Ottawa house goes for $450,000. You'll just have to save up a really big down payment!
Patronizing twaddle about diversity aside, the fact that so many members of our political class seem to think thirty thou a year is a solid middle-class income tells me they are seriously out of touch with the lived reality of most Canadians.
Saturday, August 25, 2018
President Patsy and the War Machine
Were I a neolib warmonger, I would see this point in history as an opportune moment to make some serious hay.
You've got a neophyte dipshit doofuss in the White House who has surrounded himself with Israel-firsters. Their long-standing wet dream of dealing a death-blow to the Persians has never been closer to fruition.
The American Empire is an empire in terminal decline. The "full-spectrum dominance" crowd in DC fully understand that Trump is their manna from heaven.
Their last best chance.
The last best chance to make the world safe for American bombs, bullets, and unfettered Yankee-style capitalism.
Squeeze Turkey just a little more, and we'll soon have that Gulenist satrapy we almost got a couple years ago.
Squeeze Venezuela just a little more, and the implosion of Bolivarian anti-colonialism will be a done deal.
Keep upping the pressure on Russia and eventually Putin will go down...
Or not.
In which case you've got the perfect patsy in the White House to pin the blame on.
There's never been a better time for the last world war.
You've got a neophyte dipshit doofuss in the White House who has surrounded himself with Israel-firsters. Their long-standing wet dream of dealing a death-blow to the Persians has never been closer to fruition.
The American Empire is an empire in terminal decline. The "full-spectrum dominance" crowd in DC fully understand that Trump is their manna from heaven.
Their last best chance.
The last best chance to make the world safe for American bombs, bullets, and unfettered Yankee-style capitalism.
Squeeze Turkey just a little more, and we'll soon have that Gulenist satrapy we almost got a couple years ago.
Squeeze Venezuela just a little more, and the implosion of Bolivarian anti-colonialism will be a done deal.
Keep upping the pressure on Russia and eventually Putin will go down...
Or not.
In which case you've got the perfect patsy in the White House to pin the blame on.
There's never been a better time for the last world war.
RIP Lucy
Here's what I wrote about her seven years ago:
Lucy is the ugliest wretch of a dog that God ever breathed life into. She's grown bigger since we got her, but rather than growing into herself she just gets more ungainly. Her paws would be big on a dog twice her size. Ears likewise. When she runs she looks more like a goat than a dog. She looks like a toddler in size twelve sneakers wearing floppy Mickey Mouse ears. Her brindle tiger-stripes get more asymmetrical by the day. Easily the most beautiful dog I've ever had.
She's the girl who ate a Bible and chewed the knobs and pull-cord off my generator. She ate beer cans and shit aluminum ingots.
She was next door barking at the neighbour dogs last night. She wasn't home by the time I turned in, but I didn't give that much thought. We have free-range hounds here.
The Farm Manager found her under the apple tree this morning. Aside from a little blood on her fangs there was no sign of trauma, she just looked like she went to sleep. Our theory is she wandered into a coyote ambush, ran for her life, and dropped dead from a heart attack when she got home. She was seven years old.
Happy trails, sweet Lucy... and don't mention that Bible incident up there in your new home.
Lucy is the ugliest wretch of a dog that God ever breathed life into. She's grown bigger since we got her, but rather than growing into herself she just gets more ungainly. Her paws would be big on a dog twice her size. Ears likewise. When she runs she looks more like a goat than a dog. She looks like a toddler in size twelve sneakers wearing floppy Mickey Mouse ears. Her brindle tiger-stripes get more asymmetrical by the day. Easily the most beautiful dog I've ever had.
She's the girl who ate a Bible and chewed the knobs and pull-cord off my generator. She ate beer cans and shit aluminum ingots.
She was next door barking at the neighbour dogs last night. She wasn't home by the time I turned in, but I didn't give that much thought. We have free-range hounds here.
The Farm Manager found her under the apple tree this morning. Aside from a little blood on her fangs there was no sign of trauma, she just looked like she went to sleep. Our theory is she wandered into a coyote ambush, ran for her life, and dropped dead from a heart attack when she got home. She was seven years old.
Happy trails, sweet Lucy... and don't mention that Bible incident up there in your new home.
Friday, August 24, 2018
John's barber shop
Found myself in town this afternoon with a little time to kill. The Farm Manager had to take the Bubbinator to the hearing clinic to have her new hearing aids dialed in. Thought I'd head over to John's barber shop for that long-overdue haircut. After all, they just opened up and I'll bet they're hungry for clientele.
Not that hungry. I walk in and there's a guy in the chair and another guy waiting.
"Hey John! Good to see ya! How much wait time am I looking at?"
John consults his laptop. His apprentice, Noah, is busy with the scissors. "Hey Moses, great to see ya!" It's so easy to get the biblical patriarchs mixed up, but Noah is used to it. I've known both these guys since they were kids.
"Well, we're booked solid for today... Saturday's looking kinda tight... but we could maybe squeeze you in next Tuesday."
WTF? These guys just opened the door a couple months ago and they're booked solid days in advance? Tuesday didn't work for me, but I've got an appointment for next Thursday.
The barber shop must be making a come-back, and why not. For far too long too many guys have had to take a chance at their local First Choice, where everybody makes minimum wage and nobody gives a shit.
Back in the Guelph era I used to go to Nat's barber shop on Macdonell. Nat's brother Terry had a great reputation as a quality house builder. I never needed an appointment at Nat's.
Then I was a regular at Rod's barber shop in Walkerton. Rod Dahm was an old-school barber too. No appointment required and none taken anyway. Rod just retired a year or two ago, but we used to have extended (well, extended to as long as it took to get a haircut) conversations about the barbering trade.
When Rod put out his shingle in Walkerton back in the day, there were five barbers in town. Self-respecting males would get their hair trimmed once a week, or every other week on the outside. All five of those barbers made a decent living in a community of three or four thousand souls.
Then the hippy-dippy era arrived...
Hey man!....
Let it all hang out... and by all means, let your hair grow out at the same time. I remember those days. Never mind once a week; I was getting by on one haircut a year for the longest time. You'd start with a buzzcut and you'd have a full hippy-dippy head 'o hair half-way down your ass before you thought about another haircut.
Those must have been lean years for Rod and every other barber. Nevertheless, Rod was able to regale me with tales of his family's adventures on their twin-engine Sea Ray on a regular basis. Even in the darkest times some barbers managed to fare out OK.
I suspect Rod may have been the model for Chilton's books about the wealthy barber. He ran a cash-only business, and as my pal Jimmy Lippert used to say, nobody's the wiser about how much income you report and how much you don't. In Jimmy's word's; "that's gotta be a great business if you don't mind running your fingers through another man's cooties."
I'm guessing the modern barber doesn't run into much in the way of cooties. And the cultural pendulum has swung back to a place where most guys want a haircut more than once a year.
John and Moses just might be in the right place at the right time. More power to ya, lads!
See you Thursday!
Not that hungry. I walk in and there's a guy in the chair and another guy waiting.
"Hey John! Good to see ya! How much wait time am I looking at?"
John consults his laptop. His apprentice, Noah, is busy with the scissors. "Hey Moses, great to see ya!" It's so easy to get the biblical patriarchs mixed up, but Noah is used to it. I've known both these guys since they were kids.
"Well, we're booked solid for today... Saturday's looking kinda tight... but we could maybe squeeze you in next Tuesday."
WTF? These guys just opened the door a couple months ago and they're booked solid days in advance? Tuesday didn't work for me, but I've got an appointment for next Thursday.
The barber shop must be making a come-back, and why not. For far too long too many guys have had to take a chance at their local First Choice, where everybody makes minimum wage and nobody gives a shit.
Back in the Guelph era I used to go to Nat's barber shop on Macdonell. Nat's brother Terry had a great reputation as a quality house builder. I never needed an appointment at Nat's.
Then I was a regular at Rod's barber shop in Walkerton. Rod Dahm was an old-school barber too. No appointment required and none taken anyway. Rod just retired a year or two ago, but we used to have extended (well, extended to as long as it took to get a haircut) conversations about the barbering trade.
When Rod put out his shingle in Walkerton back in the day, there were five barbers in town. Self-respecting males would get their hair trimmed once a week, or every other week on the outside. All five of those barbers made a decent living in a community of three or four thousand souls.
Then the hippy-dippy era arrived...
Hey man!....
Let it all hang out... and by all means, let your hair grow out at the same time. I remember those days. Never mind once a week; I was getting by on one haircut a year for the longest time. You'd start with a buzzcut and you'd have a full hippy-dippy head 'o hair half-way down your ass before you thought about another haircut.
Those must have been lean years for Rod and every other barber. Nevertheless, Rod was able to regale me with tales of his family's adventures on their twin-engine Sea Ray on a regular basis. Even in the darkest times some barbers managed to fare out OK.
I suspect Rod may have been the model for Chilton's books about the wealthy barber. He ran a cash-only business, and as my pal Jimmy Lippert used to say, nobody's the wiser about how much income you report and how much you don't. In Jimmy's word's; "that's gotta be a great business if you don't mind running your fingers through another man's cooties."
I'm guessing the modern barber doesn't run into much in the way of cooties. And the cultural pendulum has swung back to a place where most guys want a haircut more than once a year.
John and Moses just might be in the right place at the right time. More power to ya, lads!
See you Thursday!
President Trump: the ultimate WMD
Since Big Media shifted to the "all Trump, all the time" format a couple of years ago, all of us are acquainted with the anti-Trump canon of verities.
Trump is the most racist racist to ever befoul the White House.
Trump is a buffoon.
Trump is a moron.
Trump is the lyingest liar to ever besmirch American politics.
Trump is in Putin's pocket.
Trump is a self-dealing swindler.
Trump has grabbed more pussy than any of the preceding 44 presidents, or at least brags about it more... and so on.
All of which could well be true. But what is also true is that Donald Trump is the ultimate "weapon of mass distraction."
While the world goes ape-shit over his latest toxic tweet, it seems to me highly probable that the most consequential decision Trump himself makes in the course of any given day is whether to have a Big Mac or KFC for lunch.
How else to explain the vast gulf between Trump's talking points and actual US policy?
Trump was going to draw down American wars. The opposite is happening.
Trump was going to normalize relations with Russia. Instead, they're getting demonstrably worse.
Trump said NATO was irrelevant. He's since become NATOs fund-raiser in chief.
Trump was bringing peace to the Holy Land. The opposite is happening.
There's seldom been a more obvious disconnect between the pronouncements of the Commander-in-Chief and the actions of the state he is allegedly commanding.
This is no accident. Recall that Trump is a long-time Clinton crony parachuted into the Republican primaries by the Clinton camp to sow mayhem among the more traditional contenders.
Alas, it didn't take things long to go off plan. Not surprisingly, Big Media, largely responsible for creating the Trump brand over the past fourty years, seized on the Trump circus with a vengeance, and he's been a godsend for them.
As for Trump, he's the ultimate proof of the old adage that there's no such thing as bad publicity. Come hell, high water, impeachment, or whatever, he's bound to walk away from his political career richer than ever. He's fine with that.
So are the swamp creatures of the Deep State. While the public is in a tizzy over Trump's latest twitter indiscretions, their consolidation of power quietly forges ahead, well under the radar of that "free press" that is our supposed last bulwark against tyranny.
Democracy may have served up a lemon on December 8, but the folks behind the curtain and their PR department in the media have figured out how to squeeze that into some mighty potent lemonade.
Donald Trump is their ultimate weapon of mass distraction.
Trump is the most racist racist to ever befoul the White House.
Trump is a buffoon.
Trump is a moron.
Trump is the lyingest liar to ever besmirch American politics.
Trump is in Putin's pocket.
Trump is a self-dealing swindler.
Trump has grabbed more pussy than any of the preceding 44 presidents, or at least brags about it more... and so on.
All of which could well be true. But what is also true is that Donald Trump is the ultimate "weapon of mass distraction."
While the world goes ape-shit over his latest toxic tweet, it seems to me highly probable that the most consequential decision Trump himself makes in the course of any given day is whether to have a Big Mac or KFC for lunch.
How else to explain the vast gulf between Trump's talking points and actual US policy?
Trump was going to draw down American wars. The opposite is happening.
Trump was going to normalize relations with Russia. Instead, they're getting demonstrably worse.
Trump said NATO was irrelevant. He's since become NATOs fund-raiser in chief.
Trump was bringing peace to the Holy Land. The opposite is happening.
There's seldom been a more obvious disconnect between the pronouncements of the Commander-in-Chief and the actions of the state he is allegedly commanding.
This is no accident. Recall that Trump is a long-time Clinton crony parachuted into the Republican primaries by the Clinton camp to sow mayhem among the more traditional contenders.
Alas, it didn't take things long to go off plan. Not surprisingly, Big Media, largely responsible for creating the Trump brand over the past fourty years, seized on the Trump circus with a vengeance, and he's been a godsend for them.
As for Trump, he's the ultimate proof of the old adage that there's no such thing as bad publicity. Come hell, high water, impeachment, or whatever, he's bound to walk away from his political career richer than ever. He's fine with that.
So are the swamp creatures of the Deep State. While the public is in a tizzy over Trump's latest twitter indiscretions, their consolidation of power quietly forges ahead, well under the radar of that "free press" that is our supposed last bulwark against tyranny.
Democracy may have served up a lemon on December 8, but the folks behind the curtain and their PR department in the media have figured out how to squeeze that into some mighty potent lemonade.
Donald Trump is their ultimate weapon of mass distraction.
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