Sleepin' Forzanis

Sportchek – a business going sideways, fast.

A close friend was talking about getting some new shoes lately, and that made me think back on Sportchek, a business that used to be private, but that is now part of a public, shareholder-driven conglomerate, Forzani Group.  You may know Sportchek as the king of inflated pricing.  For what seems like decades now, Sportchek has used what, in the 70s, must have been a canny ploy—you put up a pair of shoes, say the regular price is $400, then say the sale price is $250—on virtually every item, and then maybe add a little bit more, like, “Ok, we say these shoes cost $400; we’ll sell them for $250, but this week only, you can have them for $180.”  It’s baffling to imagine when or for how long this ploy worked, but still it’s the one Sportchek clings to.

Further, for what does indeed seem like decades, Sportchek has had one special, and one special only, for what surely seems like 365 days a year: “buy one get one ½ price.”  Who, thinking s/he needs a pair of shoes, instantly thinks: "oh, yeah, I better get 2 pair"?  ??  Well, admittedly, I do live in an extremely rich jurisdiction (though not all Sportchek stores are in or near extremely rich jurisdictions), and clearly Sportchek figures, "hey, these people are rich, they'll buy all kinds of stuff they don't need."  Also, there are rich young families, and Sportchek is obviously counting on this, though what dork or responsible parent would be impressed by the inflated pricing in the first place is beyond me.  Obviously, this eternal “special” puts the lie completely to their phony pricing, and makes you know everything they advertise is a joke, but Sportchek ain’t all that swift on the uptake.  And, clearly, they don’t have to be.  They’ve known their ups and downs, but shareholders strangely stick with them, despite their modest achievements (it's the monopoly thing, for sure).  It’d be a strange thing to sit in on one of those Forzani Group (who own Sportchek and their similars) board meetings—a band of brothers so bloated on meatballs their snoozing snoring guts must rock the mahogany table back and forth until one of them snorts to life and says, “ok, this is over, let’s get outta here”  It’s a wonder shareholders put up with it.

Rather than transparent pricing, actually having stock on hand (shoes, shorts—forget it—virtually every Sportchek employee has it drilled into their heads to say “you should try the bigger location.”  Not, “we can call and see if another location has it,” but “_you_ should try to find another location”).  Genius marketing, and again, good enough for the fatboys on the board and their skinnier shareholders.

Sportchek has always of course relied on highschool labour, kids who work part-time for a few months.  You don’t expect them to know anything, and they don’t.  (Recently, I was in an always empty store in a dismal mall I visit once every 3 years, and I was standing there with a rep., and an Asian woman came in looking for birdies—shuttlecocks—and a girl and a boi just looked at her like she was a complete alien until *I*, the customer, finally had to help her out.)  You can’t blame the kids for not knowing anything—why should they?  They’re not getting paid and they’ll only be there for a few weeks, anyway, so who cares?  But what Sportchek really has amped up—and apparently shareholders love it—is the fake customer service end.  What this means is that, say you want to buy a pair of shoes.  It says $299 for $199, but this week $149 (70s marketing).  You get the kid to get you a box of shoes (there's never much staff, so this could take some time).  He brings them.  He hands them to you.  He says: “did I hand you that box of shoes ok?”  You try on your shoes.  He says: “did I watch you try on your shoes enough?”  You don’t buy the shoes, but you look at some socks for your girlfriend (inevitably, buy one get one ½ price).  You go for those.  He says: “please tell them Darren sold these to you.”  You get to the till.  The girl says: “did you get really great service?”  It is just beyond belief cartoonish.  Leave me alone. Rather than do business like professionals, the Forzani Group just wants to coast as fatboys on a 70s wave they never have to get off, and shareholders seem incomprehensibly impressed by how minimum wage highschool kids are made to ask if people are happy.

(No airmiles anymore, either.  Hardly a gamebreaker for me, but a bit of an incentive.  Sportchek isn't on the program anymore, so one slight reason less even to go in to the store and be told that the "NEW STOCK" they're hyping isn't really in that store and you should go somewhere else, etc.)

Business lesson #1:  Be lazy.  Very lazy.  Never think.

The Ever-Incredibly Depressing Jian Ghomeshi of CBC’s Q -- redux

Uuuuuhhhhh, people (now I'm chanelling Jian) -- I wrote one post on this blog, and then a followup; you can read both. Inasmuch as many people offered their colourful responses, Jian's handlers will look like Gordon Pinsent's croquet partners by the time they stop reading this. Told you once--check the date--in 2011--that I was all hacked off about the Ghomeshi show; told you twice in a brief aside--in 2012--that I was still upset but had said all I had to say; and I kept to my word; only in 2013 did I feel obligated by comments both positive and negative to come back on and reflect on comments I'd already made. What is it that people don't get? http://zorgreport.blogspot.ca/2013/02/the-ever-incredibly-depressingjian.html

(Please read or scroll to the bottom to see the actual record of this thread!)

The Ever-Incredibly Depressing Jian Ghomeshi redux

Well, I already wrote another post.  This one I jotted and set aside.  But anyway. Jian is interviewing Eugene Levy, and throughout the whole “chat,” Jian is sucking and blowing and wheedling and whinging and desperately trying to out-Oprah Oprah, and he’s doing it with an intelligent person!!.  I mean, Levy must have slipped on his way out.  Towards the end, though, Jian built to his climax (I am sure it is available on cbc.ca/q, I’m sure), and he suckingly, blowingly, wheedlingly, desperately asked Eugene Levy if he felt that he, Levy, just hadn’t been recognized enough.  I mean, this is so totally beyond bizarre.  You’re talking to a guy who’s Order of Canada, writer, comedian, Academy Award nominee, actor, done his whole career completely on his own terms, and Jian, sucking and wheedling, is saying “d’you, djew, dju, djeeoo ever feel you didn’t get enough recognition?”  I mean, Christ.  This is so impalpable as to require a palimpsest.  What, in the world, was Eugene Levy supposed to say?  “Oh yeah, I always figured I should have been Gary Cooper, or Eastwood or Stallone.”  I mean, think about it.  You’re speaking with someone who has completely achieved his own success according to his own terms in pretty well every dimension of the industry, and, sucking and wheedlingly, you wonder if he thinks he didn’t get enough recognition?  I swear, I would have killed to be there to see Levy’s creepy crawly eyebrows for that one.  Again, pure Jian thinking only of himself, totally incapable of imagining the lives of others.

Probably about the next day or whatever, Jian had his massive FEATURE CHAT with Coldplay.  Anyway.  I’m dating myself now.  I do remember the first hit of Coldplay, that poxy guy trudging along the shore at dusk (maybe dawn) in a trenchcoat saying “it was all . . .yellow.”  Such poetry.  And that man just never ran out of beach.

If you weren’t there for it, I’ll remind you.  It went:

“It was all. . .

. . .yellow.”

Genius.

At the time I do remember thinking (hoo no, you are NOT going to get me to think what Jian was thinking), well, here’s a one-hit wonder.  Shows what I know. 

Anyway so I did hear some of Jian’s “feature chat” with Coldplay, and the astounding thing about it all was that, over the course of what surely must have been nearly an hour, there wasn’t one. . .single. . .thing. . .that had anything to do with anything.  Nothing about the songs, where they came from, the trajectory of their career(s) and the stops along the way, what they thought they were doing as pop artists—nothing.  Families, the industry, producers, travel, evolution of pop forms, crowds and places. . . .  Poof!  Nothing.  Just Jian sucking and wheedling and wondering, “oh, jeeeee, is it so haaaaard to be a popstar??” “Oh, jeeee, it must be so tough, when people say, like, you’re, like, so, like, like, famous.”  “Jeee.”   Linehan was sooooo deep.

Actually my tv was on the other day and CBC, relentlessly pressing the Persian, had Jian on the tv, and I was pleased to see him looking doughy and greasy and fat like a roadie for a Mexican blues band I’d see on the way out of town in an Econoline at Denny’s at 3 a.m..  He did not look like the mo-delle he’s always pitched as, and I kind of liked him for that.  He looked like an actual working man.  I do think Jian works hard.  He just isn’t very smart, and never learned to think of others during his upbringing.  Give me Jian at 2 in the afternoon, and he’s my eeezzylistenin’ compadre.  10 a.m. is too early for Oprah, anywhere in the world.  That’s “Price is Right” time.

It is just a tremendous pity that Jian can never escape himself, or think.  One of Jian’s signature phrases is: “I’m curious about. . .”.  And then he just says, “what it’s like to be so famous.”  Uh, no, Jian—that is not curiosity.  That is just shallow as a wading pool.  Being curious about your grade 7 pimply desires just doesn’t count as curious, but to know that, you’d have to have been exposed to thought, to be able to think of others not yourself.

Anyway, Jian will never be able to stop batting his lashes at himself; he just is what he is, and I won’t flog him anymore.  He does belong in the dreamy enclosed dusky afternoon of general hospitals and gossipy mean girls he can redeem with a wand.

Jian makes Brian Linehan look like Christopher Hitchens.  And with his hushy-gushy "I'm Leif Garrett and so can you!!" attitude, Jian bombs arts back to the margins they’ve always tried to escape from.  Jian’s frothy sucking and blowing insists upon the continued marginalization of the arts.  In Jian’s self-cradled mind, he probably feels he is doing the opposite.  Good for him.  The effects of his Coldplay “chat” are no doubt even still reverberating around the universe.  Late at night, Jian must think: “man, I really nailed that Coldplay chat.”  To what effect?  So Tories could tee off on it?  So people concerned about the arts could be perplexed?  Yes, Jian, you sucked and blowed with Coldplay, but what, other than personal satisfaction, did you achieve?  We sure didn't learn anything about Coldplay.  I'd read TeenBeat for that.

You can see, just by the dates of my posts, that I have tried _not_ to comment.  And I’ll keep trying not to comment.  If I comment again, maybe it’ll be a mockup interview (sorry, sorry, “chat”)—but really I’ll try to stay away.  You can see by the dates of my posts that I really have tuned out.

I really have been able to turn off Jian lately, and that's good, but it is hard to turn off a station you would like to tune to.

Ok, it’s Jian Ghomeshi interviewing Atom Egoyan.

JG:  Huh-eye.

AE: Hi

JG:  So let me see, you’ve been so famous, for so loooooong.

AE: Well. Probably not here, but….

JG:  I mean, you go around the world, and there’s all these people, and you’re like, so famous!!!

AE: Well, maybe it’s different, but. . . .

JG: It’s gotta be so haaaaaaarrrrrddd!  I mean, you’re so famous, and, it’s like, how can you, like, eat in a restaurant, and, it’s like, I’d find that so, like, haaaaarrrrd.

AE: Well, we lead a pretty normal—

JG: --but that’s just it, it’s gotta be so haaaaaarrrrrddd.

AE:  Well, we. . . .

JG: Haaaaarrrd.  But it’s like you say, it’s gotta be so haaaaarrrrrrdd.

AE: Sure, but you, . . .

JG: Find it so haaaaaaarrrrrrd.  I know.  I know.  It’s haaaaaarrrrrrrrd.  Oh man it’s haaaaaaaaaaaard.  I don’t know how you do it.  You must find it. . .

AE: We …

JG: so .haaaaaaaaaarrrrrrd.  Yeah.

Hey wait, Ato, Ato, listen, we’re going to have a feature chat with Scott Baio next Thursday, then we’ve got a world exclusive with Dolly Parton—she’s never been interviewed before in Canada—and Ron Popiel’s coming in, and—look out—we’ve got Suzanne Sommers back again to talk about all the amazing contributions she’s been making to the arts since we talked to her a few weeks ago.  She’ll have lots to say, for sure.  This is going to be the first time in Canada in three weeks Suzanne Sommers has done a feature chat with anyone!!  And then we’re gonna be in Gander for a feature chat with Vic Tayback, with special guests Codmen, and if you want to get tickets, you’ve got to get to our site by Thursday.  Uh, uuhhhh.

And now we get back to out feature chat with Atom Egoyan; hang on, Eggie, we’ve got Dorkbird live in studio today, singing her “I don’t know about art but I heard it on the subway” song!

JG:  Man.  That was great.  Nice stuff.  Dorkbird!!  Live on feature CBC world exclusive.

You'll be back in a minute.

 

JG: you were saying when you took off your glasses—why don’t you do that more often, man, it’s sexee!!  You’re like, so famous, and, I bet, damn those glasses—who’d you get them from anyway?

AE: Probably worn. . .

JG: My guy too!!  I saw this guy and he was like, no, you gotta have it!  Man.

AE: Mm.

JG: Movies—it’s like, you get famous with that, all the time, right?

AE: Well, I, uh. . .

JG: an it’s like so, so, cool to be famous, but what I bet a lot of people don’t realize is that, is that, it’s, like, so hard, to be famous.  Right?

AE: Well, not famous.

JG: That’s what I meeeeeaaaaan.  It’s sooo haaaaaarrrrrddd!  You know, you know, I’m curious.  I’m curious.  I’m just curious.  Curious about just just, just what it means to be so. . .famous?  What is that like, I mean, to be so so famous, like, I mean. . . .  Aw, man.

AE: Well,   

Always pullin’ for Jian, but despairing largely. Always pullin,’ yankin’ in a 3-foot depth.

--zr
{{4 years, 4 posts on this blog.

(I don't blame you for getting bored, but I've as much a right and a responsibility as anyone to be held to complete account for what I have written.)

The first post, the one that EVERYONE read:
The Ever-Incredibly Depressing Jian Ghomeshi of CBC’s Q -- 17/09/2011

The next and final post, that a few read.
The Ever-Incredibly Depressing Jian Ghomeshi of CBC’s Q -- redux 02/03/2012

3rd post (that a few more read):
My decision to at last address some of the so many comments I got about my *2* Ghomeshi posts (my antique internet attitude has always been that you can respond and say whatever you want to say, and I won't editorialize.  However, after many comments, I decided to take up a few of the most common ones).
The ever-incredibly depressing Jian Ghomeshi treedux -- 11/02/2013

The recent post, that a few have read, now that he's really famous (and a post that's already starting to look really antique, like the once-powerful "Copps-May-Shelaghlah Swoonferit Theory of General Sexual Moral Infallibility"):
50 Shades of Jian Ghomeshi: Parsing Jian’s Infinite Self-Regard -- 28/10/2014}}
 

Fixed Elections, F**ked Democracy

 Ensuring dictatorships, as in Russia, one step at a time.

 Of course, political scientists have already dilated at endless length on this subject, so far be it from me to invade that virgin unread territory with any comment I might have.

 Still, I’d like to comment, specifically with reference to Canada, and also perhaps with reference to other countries.

 First of all, let’s consider the nature of “fixed.”  Voters often love this term, for they feel that the word “fixed” somehow allows them to “fix” their representatives to a particular term, and jettison those representatives if the voters don’t like them.  Yes Virginia.

What voters fail to grasp, of course, is that anything “fixed” allows “fixers” to “fix” elections all the more easily.  Thus rendering voting more or less useless.

 Let’s take Canada.  Provincially or federally, parties had up until five years to make up their minds about elections.  Typically, they chose somewhere around four.  If a party went for three (Peterson in Ontario for example), that party got smacked for hubris.  If a party had to drag it out for five (Rae, Mulroney), it likewise was smacked.  Four was the norm.  Canadians knew this, intuitively, as they had for generations.

Now, though, Canada chosen to go with fixed elections, all the time.  (In a precedent-setting unprecedented setting move, Stephen Harper’s Conservatives announced and then lied about their intentions and did not hold fixed elections.) And that means one thing—all campaigning, all the time.  No more policy, no more thought.  Just trying to catch up to the party that has the most cash for attack ads.  It’s sleazy, it’s cheesy, but Canadians love it like Cheez-Whiz on celery.

One year (at best) of policy, three years of campaigning and fundraising.  We have done it to ourselves.  Smugly, stupidly, we feel good about it.  It will beggar our country and bomb our children back to the nineteenth century, but our arrogance will ensure that we wreck the future for our children.  Way to go!!  Now we can be just like Americans, who have no policy debates, only superpac campaigning that leaves 99% of Americans completely out of a say in how their country is governed.

zr

Dreams and Questions (ongoing)

Why do actors in Canadian tv commercials seem to turn up and be in every second ad for a while, and then disappear? I mean, yes, there are some who appear in an ad series, but there's a striking number who appear in several ads for different companies within the space of a few months or a year, and then disappear. Why is that? Obviously voiceovers is a surer gig, because there you can hear the same voices forever. I just kinda don't get it. Is it agents, the industry, the. . .? There's a tall guy on now whose been in ads for at least four or five different companies. . .what will happen to him? Companies who use tv advertising obviously aren't too concerned about actors turning up in various commercials at almost the same time, so being a fresh face isn't much of a big deal. But after a few ads, poof and that actor is gone. Or there's the attractive blonde middle-aged woman who appears in one ad playing, quite impossibly, an impeccably tailored, cheery sales telemarketing slave for a company hawking insurance for old people, and then in another ad for a company that helps you find out about dead people you may be related to. She may be typecast, but will she be recast? I don't get this phenomenon. I mean, yeah, sure, I suppose that, once in a blue moon, one of these actors does go on to something of a tv career of some sort (and many work on the stage, say). It kind of makes me think of small European countries where I've spent lots of time and where it seems every second movie has the same actors. You almost feel bad for any other actors in a the small country, because it seems only a handful ever get a chance. Then again, there's also a kind of wry or warm familiarity one feels upon seeing the same face, yet again, in yet another different role. And of course small countries with unique languages, or maybe just small countries, period, have supported domestic film and tv industries, unlike Canada, where it's a no-brainer if you're CTV, or even CBC alas, to show _Wheel of Fortune_. Maybe Canada was once like some of these other small--but independent--countries of today. I could well imagine that, decades ago, if John Vernon's or Barry Morse's car broke down near your house and he came by to ask to use the phone, you'd just welcome him in with a "hello John" and offer him a coffee or a beer, just as if he were a close relation (for, in some ways or metaphorically, that is what he was). Does that, could that happen in Canada now? I doubt it. Anyway, long-winded post, but I'm sure you get my drift.

Why is it that so many obvious computerese words are still picked up by spellcheckers?  I mean words like “internet,” for example.  Were spellcheckers pre-invented in the 1950s?

Why does it take your printer so long to grasp that you wish to print something?  Is it a _printer_, or does it secretly have many other activities it routinely performs, like balancing a beachball on its nose, that it does not tell you about?  Why does my computer want to tell me that “beachball” should be two words?  After a week end pick up base ball game, do programmers routinely have hi balls at balls on beaches?

Picture a standard 4-sided stand-up metal grater.  What is the side with the holes that are kind of star-shaped and like tiny grapeshot extrusions for?  Oh, I’m sure I’ve used it.  But every time I grate something, I kind of look at it and wonder.  The other three I understand.  Is the mini-bullet-hole meant mainly for garlic and ginger, or. . . ?  What do you use it for?

What is the real significance of Bill Haley and the Comets in the history of rock n' roll?  I am a bit of an expert in this field, believe me (radio, record, writing experience--so, naturally, I'd need fairly serious responses).  Sometimes I try to situate it, and I'm sure I have, but maybe I've forgotten now.  I can do it again (determine the real significance of. . .), but anyway, I leave it there.

Why do guys sit on pec-deck machines at gyms and stare dully like zombies in front of themselves forever?  Sorry, tricked ya.'  Rhetorical question.  Same reason they sit on ab-cruncher machines and stare, dully, forever.  Because they are vain and hope that, if they can only improve their pecs and abs, they will be much hotter to girls.  In all the years I've used gyms, I've seen so many of these guys, who sit, dully, staring, hogging one machine to themselves, so that they may eventually heave themselves into the activity of doing *1 or 2* more reps (so powerful to them is the notion of their potential super-attractiveness, that if they can do just one more pull, one more crunch, they will attract girls like flies on scat, that, like children keeping a toy, they will not leave that machine until their energy fails utterly, and their dreams of being *that* scat go on hold for a few minutes more).  "Oh good for you," I want to clap.  That's the internal reasoning.  The external reason they stare dully is because they know they look stupid--anyone sitting or standing there, staring, forever, doing nothing, does tend to look pretty stupid.  They know they should at least be looking at a magazine, or looking at the menu at McDonald's, or putting gas in their trucks, or doing _something_--they feel how stupid they look, too.  So they stare, dully, trying, hopefully, to look _really really serious_, as if they are about to do one great massive set, and as if they are real bodybuilders, despite the fact that they'd probably have to be rescued by emergency personnel if they tried another machine. 

--Ok sure it has to do with bubbling thicker-consistency milk, but how come the *ONLY* kind of soup that ever seems to boil over and make a %&UTFVKJ()&*!Z!! of a mess is something like cream or celery or cream of mushroom or whatever?

--Why, when it takes longer actually to think "Ok, I am not going to signal now.  I won't.  Ha ha.  I won't do it," do people not just signal??  Sorry, rhetorical question again.  It's a passive-aggressive thing.  People in long left-hand lane lineups who fail to indicate that they want to turn are expressing their tinytude and desperate desire to feel big and important, like guys who need big dogs or trucks to make themselves feel well endowed.  But I still have always wondered how it is that it can be easier, somehow, to tense up and consciously decide, ok, I am now not going to signal, rather than just going ahead and signalling as a matter of routine, like your goddamn mother would have told you.  You almost never see this in Europe, but daily in the U.S.  Maturity, power, shrivelled appendages, etc., whatever.

--Why do Indians in (First Nations peoples etc.) old radio shows or old tv shows or movies often say things like "me wantum"?  Did this start with some white actor or writer who heard "um" in a Native language and started using it?  How did this particular cliche or stereotype get going?  Was it Tonto, Little Beaver, the people who wrote those parts?  "Me think, me wantum" etc.  Where did this linguistic cliche originate?  Who was responsible?  Did he (I assume it was a he) have any reasons for inventing how Indians might speak English besides quasi-racist ones of wanting to other them, or were there actually grounds for suggesting that this was how certain Indians might speak English (after all, second-language speakers of any sort normally have identifiable accents and habits based on the first languages they come from)?

What is the best NHL logo? What is the best NHL jersey?

What is the best NHL hockey jersey?

What is the best NHL hockey logo?

I’m glad you accidentally clicked here and found me writing this, for I will tune you in.

Who has not whiled away a few seconds, amongst voluble acquaintances or alone after an icing call, musing on who really has the best jersey?  I was recently seated, doing one of my favourite things, reading my friend Jeff Stanford’s _The Gondola_, which emanates from Toronto.  So far as I know, he and his Leafs journal were most recently written up here: http://scribemag.ca/2011/10/blue-and-white/

In the latest issue (10.5: Feb., 2011), Jeff, referring to the 2013 Winter Classic, to be played at Michigan Stadium, writes of the teams to be involved (Toronto and Detroit):

They have been rivals since the 1920s.  The sweaters they wear can truly be described as ‘iconic,’ an appellation that has yet to be applied to any of the togs worn by the expansion teams.  Toronto and Detroit taking the ice is one of the most resplendent sights known to fans.

Well put.  Just to see those iconic jerseys burst onto the ice does put one in mind of Davey Keon and Ted Lindsay, and the thought of those immortal apparitions surely thrills any hockey fan.  And how could a hockey player not be inspired to wear such a garment, trailing glorious victories behind him as he seeks the next great triumph?  

Don’t think it doesn’t mean something.  Jim Bouton, briefly a World Series-winning Yankees fireballer before his arm blew out, famously detailed his efforts to stay in the game in his 1970 book, Ball Four.  On more than one occasion, he noted the simple majesty of his former team’s pinstripes, versus the baby-blue pyjamas (Blue Jays, anyone?) he had to wear with the expansion Seattle Pilots.  For instance, opening day, 1968, in Anaheim, he noted: 

There was a lot of grousing about the uniforms.  [. . .]  I guess because we’re the Pilots we have to have captain’s uniforms.  They have stripes on the sleeves, scrambled eggs on the peak of the cap and blue socks with yellow stripes.  Also there are blue and yellow stripes down the sides of the pants.  We look like goddamn clowns. (103)

Mm.  Well then, let me rank for you the best NHL jerseys, after a few caveats.

1. I am referring to jerseys that came at or after the late 1960s/1970s expansion period. 

2. I realize that many jerseys, even with classic teams, have undergone many changes.  I realize that there are many NHL teams that are now gone, and while I may refer to them, I won’t include them in the rankings of _the teams currently extant at the time of this writing_.  Also, I more or less will not refer to any so-called “3^rd” (or “4^th or 5^th or 6^th) jerseys.

3. My rankings are obviously a fan’s subjective rankings, duh.  I will probably make               some mistakes in what I am talking about, and I admit these errors in advance.  If any of my numerous readers from pornhackingsite.ru wish charitably to nudge me towards a greater truth, why, I welcome such insight, Sergeis.

4. My enthusiasm for this endeavour was dampened utterly when I really did have a look at the logos now on offer.  Good xst.  I should put us all out of our misery and offer the top 6 and give 24 7^th places.

5. I *tried* to go as fast as I could, but in Gary Bettman’s crazee carnival of yee-haw hockey, I just got bogged down.  This is tough.

Anywhere, here we go.

#1 – Red Wings.  Captures the speed and power of the game, roots itself in the city (or shell of it before it was moved to Mexico).  Simple, unsurpassed.

#2 – Blackhawks. Such a complicated jersey.  Racist I guess. I’m relatively new to the racist game, though I’ve taught it for nearly 20 years. You would think, with the thin stripes, that it couldn’t make it in today’s game.  But put it on Denis Savard, Tony Esposito, Jonathan Toews, Stan Mikita, or Bobby Hull, and it’s just a jersey that compels and can terrify like Cliff Koroll as your father-in-law.

#3 – Blues.  Classic colours, pre-70s Atari/Coleco.  It may be that St. Louis has not a lot more to do with the blues than Los Angeles does with lakes, or Utah with jazz, but it’s still a good uniform that is of its moment (a bit clunkily) but with staying power.

#4 – Leafs.  Very hard even to know what a Leafs uniform looks like, so often have they adulterated it.  A Cup winner in the west, Cliff Fletcher, attempted to restore sanity and dignity in the early 90s, and almost brought Toronto a Cup again.  The generic Atari/Coleco 70s logo is, alas, the one I remember best.  Some years ago, the Leafs went to a stripeless nightie that made Captain Mats Sundin look like Casper the silly ghost.  No other original six team would tamper so ceaselessly, stupidly, and shamefully with a classic jersey as Toronto.  Would Montreal?  Sadly, that says a lot.

# 5 - Jets. – Despite the obvious military pandering and ill-advised colour scheme, I find this jersey wise and half-way (not .75) to a classic.  It has a hint of the old Falcons in it, and it wisely stays away from the “stick and puck” motif of the old Jets jersey or most other new ones.  Close to a good job.  It isn’t classic, but it’s so close you have to take it over so many other non-classics.  I could rank it lower, but not more than 1-2 places lower.

# 6 - Sabres. – Hard to know what it has to do with the city (a bison, not a buffalo, is pictured, and I think of wings and miserable weather, not swords, when I think of Buffalo).

#7 - Rangers. – Probably the best pants in the league.  After that, it’s Eddie Giacomin and a prayer.

#8 - Bruins. – That’s inventive.  Only Bronco Horvath and Cam Neely make me put it here.  Only.

#9 - Canucks. – Original expansion, Dennis Ververgaert. Let’s just say Babe Pratt’s 3-yr-old niece was asked to draw this logo.  Unsurprisingly, she could not imagine a “Canuck,” but she did have a sense of what a “stick” her uncle showed her looked like.  Great colours, logo so bombastically rudimentary it makes it look as if Vancouverites played hockey, and rioted, in the 1790s.  For out-nostalgia-izing even people who saw Newsy Lalonde score six, I hand it to this logo.  Forget Holland canals and Millionaires; this jersey makes it plain Chaucer’s pilgrims played hockey during downtimes when carriage wheels were getting fixed.  As for the endless succession of egregiously awful logos following that one, well.  I guess I’d want to smash something up, too.

#10 - Kings. – Only ranking the royal yellow/purple here.  Old-time hockey, with a poet who knew it, Sheldon Kannegiesser (http://warriorsofwinter.com/).  Ask yourself, hockey fan, can _you_ remember a Kings jersey other than the purple/gold Kings?  Dionne, Vachon, Taylor, Robitaille.  That’s the only true pride.  They did some crazy things out there, the Golden Seals, etc.  But who says a man can’t wear bright colours? 

#11 - Canadiens. – Have spent such a lifetime hating this team that I can’t observe it objectively.  I recognize that the colours are ok, the logo is meaningful, etc.  But still I find the away (used to be home) logo faint and weak.  Top 3 original six are Wings, Hawks, Leafs; bottom three are Bruins/Rangers, Habs.  If it were based on heart, this team would probably rank 30^th; as it is, I only rank it where I rank it on, basically, speculative terms.  I can’t even accept my own decision.  I’m like a judge who says “get me outta here, I’m a heroin addict.”

#12 - Flames. – Kudos to the Flames for sensibly going with Atlanta colours and even a name that, curiously, made sense.  Regrettable Atari/Coleco 70s “C,” but, as with the Flyers and 3 cup trips of their own, you don’t buy or sell tradition, you earn it.

#13 - Capitals. – Original jerseys almost laughable, given how laughable they were.  But over time, the idiotic New York Americans-style jerseys have grated less.

#14 - Islanders. – A mittful of Cups will win your suit some credibility, and after the atrocious other jerseys introduced, going back to the original is just merciful.  I don’t even know if the Trottier-Bossy-Gillies-Potvin-Resch one was bad, but I do know that, whatever happened in the interim, I am glad like hell to see it back.

#15 - Flyers. – One of the most Atari/Coleco logos of all time.  Looks less like something flying than something landing, with a splat.  Or Kate Smith on her wedding day in the park. A hapless imitation of the Red Wings’ logo, but that bright orange just seems made for people like Terry Crisp and Reggie Leach.  No wonder they tried to go all black.  No wonder Paul Holmgren’s molars are stumps.  But they stuck with it.

#16 - Penguins. – They’re silly, but they’re loveable. Syl Apps wore those baby blues.  Mario Lemieux wore a black one with a white cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  It’s a perplexing image, but they’re still there.

#17 - Oilers. – Unsubtle copy of the Islanders.  Disproportionate 70s bubble logo, too busy with the piping; they think they are playing a game other than hockey.  Almost classic look, but with almost the first last-place team in history to field a team of all first over-all draft choices, the logo is losing its look, and taking on more of this one:

http://mitch5150.deviantart.com/art/Edmonton-Losers-153822305

#18 - Stars.  – Dallas can’t match Minnie.  Surprised that Dallas didn’t put more of its own stamp on things, but, hey, they did like the Flames and they won a Cup with a foot.  They kept it simple.  The black is unfortunate, but understandable.  They ought to have amped up the gold.  The green makes no sense in Texas.

#19 - Wild. – Wonderful colours and scheme.  Shame about the hacked-off head of some beast.  But what would you do with a name as inane as “Wild”?  They sound like they play in the ECHL—the East Coast Hokey League.

#20 - Sharks. – Cheesy newstyle that has no reference to the city, but I like the teal.  Unfortunate for a hockey team, but gets silly points.

#21 - Devils. – Meant something when they won.  Mock-up of the old Hartford Whalers (who also adored the Canucks’ original).  Meant something when Daneyko or Madden wore it; on Kovalchuk, Gretzky’s Mickey Mouse looms more and more into view.  A very sullied Jersey lately.

#22 - Coyotes. – Doing this odyssey, I did it without looking at any sites or anything to remind me.  When I got to the end, exhausted, I had to check what teams I’d missed.  Penguins (who used to be blue) and Coyotes (who used to wear a shirt that looked like barf).  Frankly, I like those new ‘yotes uniforms.  I like the colour, and I like how the dog is not 45X his original size.  And it’s symbolic of death in the desert.  He ought to be a lean, hungry, hopeless, baying hound, having found not even a cheese-rind in a McDonald’s wrapper in a wind-flapping dumpster in an empty parking lot outside a windswept Glendale mall, with only 15 gun-totin’ security-mall men to scare ‘im off.

#23 - Hurricanes. – Like the colours; had momentary significance when Ron Francis was there. Hard to make a hurricane look so unexciting, but they hired the ad agency, they paid the money, and they put on the jersey.  It’s exciting, right?

#24 - Ducks. – It’s a personal thing.  I rank the new black one that is empty of any notability. I loved the evil Duck goalie mask.  I would walk down the street with that on like I’d walk down the street with “one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.”  Have some balls!  The new logo sucks.  If you’re willing to walk down the street with a Ducks goalie-mask jersey on, you’re ready to do anything.  Believe me, next to a homeless person, you do NOT want to get into a fight with someone who is willing to walk down the street with a Ducks goalie-mask jersey on.  For you know that that person has nothing to lose.  You might think “oh, yeah, I can take this Duck person on,” but trust me, as sure as I am sitting here, you will lose an eye, ear, nose, or throat to someone who is willing to wear a Duck goalie-mask jersey.  Or balls.  Do not f**k with Ducks.

#25 - Lightning. – Maybe it’s supposed to be like superman, but it’s really almost like the anti-logo.  I think it kind of looks like what happens if you have one of those clip-on cleaner-disinfectant things on your toilet bowl that releases a bluish streak when you flush.

#26 - Bluejackets. – I’m flaggin’ out here.  Give me the bug with a stick. Caps ripoff now, they look more and more like the Washington Generals they are.  That Bluejackets thing must go down like banana pudding in Carolina.  If they had have chosen their new logo as their original, I might have bumped them up a notch; but you can’t rip off someone else (Washington) and get credit for it, unless you work in Washington.  Their logo says what they are: AHL.

#27 – Predators. – A beast that could only gnaw at its own throat.  Barry Trotz must know something about this.  And if you hang out around Nashville, you’ll find most beasts just can’t get off their hinds long enough to threaten you much.

#28 - Senators. – A logo that has virtually nothing to do with the city or the sport, bad colours, etc.  I thought I saw once upon a time a logo notion that incorporated the parliament (no, not the silly, busy one with the flag).  Something simple and declarative, using the red/white/black, could have been really effective.  But in the ultimate expression of Canada, the capital of Canada, Ottawa, chose utterly nonsensical reference to, ah, Rome?  This is so bizarre and incomprehensible that it beggars analysis.  This would be like Sierra Leone choosing an ice-cream cone for its national flag.  Can you imagine a soccer team in Rome choosing the Rideau Canal as its emblem?  Well, that’s what Ottawa did.  You wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t see it.

#29 - Panthers. – A cat with .01 cm balls and 1m paws.  Garish, idiotic colours.  Someone like Walt Disney drew this one, addled, febrile, not within his own mind, and disturbingly obsessed, at 4 a.m., with some kind of _cat_.

#30 - Avalanche. – Groovy, like Uwe, never lasts more than a couple years.

Aftermath:

What have I learned about this exercise that I tried to conduct quickly?  Well, of course, original 6 teams were favoured; that’s not surprising.  Also, that it takes time, longer than I’d have liked. Teams more or less corresponding to my shelf-life also seemed somewhat though not always to be favoured. I frankly don’t believe that my listing is all that debatable.  Oh, yes, sure, there will be the odd fan from somewhere who will want to put their teams up there, above all reason.  But I think most fans won’t argue that much with me; they will quibble up or down 1 or 2 teams, but I doubt, really, that most hockey fans will want to jump up one team over the other more than a few places.  I’m probably about the 450 000^th person to do this so far, so as time goes by, I’ll have a look at what they’ve done, too, and see if I want to make any adjustments. 

Especially in the middle ranges, I might be open to change, but towards the bottom, and especially the top, I doubt that there’s a great deal of room for movement.

Your faithful servant,

zr

Justice Lampooned -- Media Covers the Shafia Sentencing -- America Shames Canada and Britain

Justice Lampooned  --  Media Covers the Shafia Sentencing  -- America Shames Canada and Britain

First up, the always bemused and inarticulate Andrew whatshishead on CBCNN, utterly out of his depth and dismayingly inarticulate.  He was joined by a greasy-headed kid named D’Souza, who embarrassed second-year journalism students everywhere with his lack of command of any language.

Over on CTV, a brilliantined blonde woman, quite perplexed, at last got on to Genevieve Beauchemin, who was hyperventilating so much that her family may be wondering even now if she has been able to get to sleep, or is alive.  Alas, no commentator on either network was able to provide sustained, sober, or knowledgeable reflection on what had transpired.  Why?  The trial had only gone on for months.  Both CBC and CTV appeared to have had to find ties for rushed-in bald lawyers.  Good thing no-one takes any of this seriously.

The CBC, above all, has been interested in the possibility that “others” have been interested in this trial.  Well, let’s have a look.

Britain’s _The Guardian_ emphasizes its basic Murdoch approach, misquoting the judge, highlighting evanescent sideshows, and generally observing the British taste for the Sunshine girls n’sleaze.  http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/jan/30/honour-killings-jury-afghan-family

Huffington post, unsurprisingly, goes for “coverage” that can’t even be called that, so there’s no point in linking to it.  I’m not sure if Arianna had a thong on, but if it got her clicks, its hot chicks, and it’s Guardian sleaze all the way.

Notably, CNN—and lord knows the Americans are good at trials and killings—provided the most concise and informative piece on the matter.  CNN, notably, was the *ONLY NETWORK* that even attempted to observe and contextualize the death of Rona Amir Mohammad, second infertile wife of killer Shafia; Canada’s CBC, and other networks, dismissed the death of an ‘old lady’ as merely collateral damage, uninteresting beyond the teen attractions the trial had so far provided.  As veteran CBC reporter Terry Milewski noted: “        .”  Wendy Mesley observed: “            , Terry.”

http://www.cnn.com/2012/01/30/world/americas/canada-honor-murder/?hpt=wo_c2

Mock news organization Aljazeera offered: Afghan immigrant accused of killing former wife and three daughters tells court he was a caring father.

Horrible to think that in this case Canadians have to go to Americans to get decent reporting, but such is as it is.

zr

Postscript: A couple days after this post, the Globe ran a story about Rona Amir Mohammad, under the byline "Timothy Appleby."  It wasn't very informative, and I think indicated that there was information about her that could not be released during trial proceedings.  Funny thing about trial proceedings, though, is that one can often release an awful, awful lot of material, even under a ban, if one wants to.

Jim Flaherty Urges Lower Mortgage Rates; Insists Banking Sector Needs Freedom from Government Constraints

Jim Flaherty Urges Lower Mortgage Rates; Insists Banking Sector Needs Freedom from Government Constraints

November 13, 2014

(CP) – Daniel Zorg

Former Ontario and Canada finance minister Jim Flaherty today announced that Canada’s banking sector must be able to operate with complete freedom, without any government meddling.  Having left office 48 hours ago, former minister Flaherty, who has since accepted chairs with the boards of all of Canada’s major banks, has been able to gross over $2 million in his first hours out of government.

In a speech with Canadian Club, Flaherty observed, “when I was finance minister during the 2008 recession, I was able to achieve massive bailouts for the major banks.  Moreover, so that banks could keep their taxpayer money, I moved to ensure that Canadians who just didn’t have the serious cash required to own something could never, ever get a mortgage.”  “Now,” he added, “it seems that the government wants to prevent people from letting the private sector determine what is best for it.”  “When I was minister,” Flaherty contended, “I never failed to let Canadians know that only the private sector could ever rescue them.”

Former Minister Flaherty was asked why, after Canadians had bailed out banks and private sector concerns such as auto companies, and after auto companies had not paid back monies as they were not required pay back, and banks had not lent to increase liquidity as they were supposed to do, he felt that banks should now be able to do even more as they wished.

“Well,” Flaherty responded, “it’s simple.”  “I tried to protect the banks as much as possible when I was in office.  Routinely, they said to me, let us lend more money.  ‘No, I said,’ ‘let Canadians lend it to _you_, and then they will pay you back. Now we find ourselves in a situation in which the government of the day is attempting to dictate to us how we should withdraw our money from Canadians.  It’s absurd.’”

 Commenting further on Canada’s low interest rates, Flaherty stated: “banks have to protect themselves from Canadians.  If Canadians want to take out low-interest mortgages offered by banks, then banks have to be able to protect themselves.  That means, no more government meddling.  There has got to be a situation in this country whereby banks, who want it, can get access to taxpayer funds without strings attached.  And me and my board are here to stand up for those banks, and make sure they get their hard-earned dollars from the people they’re going to come from.”

 Flaherty will be addressing business luncheons in Calgary and Vancouver during the rest of the week.

Dan Zorg

Reflecting on World War One WWI Great War writing

Brooke passed, Owen died.

Sassoon is just a trifle too made up—crazy and unhinged, in the sense of hanging off a new geranium.

Brittain saw more and said less than anyone.   This is a testament.

Harrison is brutal and he knows it; there’s something attractive about that.

Remarque is deshabille; Musil, not there, probably got it more.

Montgomery understood.

Manning was endorsed by Hemingway, and the velvet touch of the non-combatant does leave things seeming just a little bit as if you would be wasting time reading it.

Blunden blundens over the flowers.  So desperate is he to make poetry of pottery, he trods in a pool with a  moon in it.

I think it’s got to be Graves; candid, struggling for truth, seemingly unvarnished.  It is him that I would read again, and again, for the truth I can't imagine.

El Presidente – El Perfecto

Just before the new year I was able to watch a great thing, Dennis Martinez’s perfect game at Chavez Ravine in 1991.  If I’m fortunate, I may be able to watch it again, but we’ll see.

Now, now, I know that the internet has provided us all with endless opportunities to study such things as those that I am about to relate.  But trust me, trust me, my friends, you can search and search after 50 years, and you will never find people who really do remember it or who saw it.  I know.  From falling hands.

What a hot day it was, nothing for Dennis.  The ‘spos had been shut down lately—Mark Gardner almost throwing a no-hitter on his own—clearly, the ‘spos were beginning to round into the form that made them World Champions in 1994.  Dodgers were  hot—league leaders, huge team average.

The ‘spos had that idiot coach, Tom Runnells, who initiated spring training with a foghorn and in fatigues, previewing the Jays’ Tim Johnson, who said he was in ‘nam when he wasn’t.  Baseball brings out the worst of Americans. . . .   Having gone through Earl Weaver, Dennis, Nicaraguan, would have regarded such things if not with irony, then with experience and determination, one of less than 10 to win 100 in both leagues.

I think, if I remember it right, Andres Galarraga was either in the doghouse or on the d/l, and a youngish Larry Walker came in to play 1^st base.  He proved to be pivotal.  Alongside Delino DeShields, who took most of the chances, it was Walker, above all, who just had the feel and the grit and know-how for the game that got Dennis through the perfect game—and Walker was clearly not at his accustomed position, or anything like it—he was just one hell of a ballplayer.  One hell of a ballplayer—five tools and smart—Larry Walker was six tools.

Dennis was pushed by Mike Morgan, the tired Dodgers’ starter—in fact, it was more or less a perfect game for both through about 4.  Morgan was a top starter, and the Dodgers had an astonishingly good hitting team, very American league, with Kal Daniels and Eddie Murray as relatively easy at-bats. The Expos knew they were good, but they had an idiot manager.  Dennis, I think, was challenged a bit by Morgan, not so much by his own team or his manager.  On the other hand, Gardner had gone out there and shown he could shut down a team completely—Dennis had to show he could still do that. Morgan pitched very well, but Dennis found another gear through the middle innings that truly asserted his presence; he would not be schooled by a boy.

In those days, they didn’t have all the newfangled devices we do now.  If Dennis threw about 110-112 pitches, I bet at least 95 were curves.  He had that tight curve working, and the Dodgers had a left-handed lineup, and as expert analyst and perennial .300 hitter Ken Singleton said, “you’d need a pitching wedge to get that one.”  Delino DeShields, at 2^nd base, must have had 12 chances, easy (remember, Walker).  The outfield probably only got about 3 chances all afternoon.

In and  out.  The Dodgers’ lefties would top ball after ball to DeShields at 2^nd.  Looking back, you would say, how could they do it?  But that was just how tight Dennis’s spin was.

Umpiring—let’s talk about umpiring, for that always must feature, just as refereeing does in hockey.  Well, I think Dennis got more calls than Morgan did, but only about 2-1, in terms of obvious calls that should have been gotten.  There were only a couple of calls that either pitcher should have gotten, and if you watch the game, well, Dennis maybe got at most 2 that Morgan didn’t get.  It was pretty even up, I think even Morgan would say.  Dennis also didn’t get a couple, but on the whole I would say Morgan was -1 or -2.  I’ll have to go to the tape.

Morgan tired, and Dennis knew he had his stuff.  He shook it out in his kinky way and then twisted into that trademark delivery.

Dennis threw at most 3-5 fastballs the whole afternoon, up and in, smokin’ 90, if that can be called smokin,’ at the Dodgers’ lefties. . . .  Dennis threw maybe 5-6 changes the whole afternoon, but when he did, they were devastating.  The Dodgers were looking curve so much that they might get fastball and then they get. . . change.  I really think Dennis should have thrown the change more that day, at Chavez Ravine, when he threw a perfect game.

In the final at bat, the Dodgers pinch hitter got just a little bit out in front of it, and it was just a bit in on his hands.  It was a good piece of hitting, because he had been studying up.  I actually think Dennis was a bit lucky.   Dennis felt that way, too.  We’ll never know, but it would have taken a good 20 ft more to get it out of the park—that was no warning-track shot; that one was caught on the wide green field of dreams.

The Chavez Ravine fans, they were classy.  They knew they’d seen a fine duel between Morgan and Martinez.  They clapped when Martinez came on for the ninth, and even stood while Dennis completed his perfect game—very, very classy fans in the true Vin Scully mode.  In Canada, you know when people know hockey, and they applaud it; I’m no Dodgers fan, but the Dodgers fans did show they liked baseball.

And then.

So what.  El Presidente, El Perfecto.  Dave Van Horne gets a new piece of turf, and Dennis is only one of the less than 10, joining Fergie Jenkins, who did it in both leagues.  What an achievement.

The ‘spos move on.  On to be the best team in baseball in ’94, so far out in front they  played with water pistols in Georgia before the Strike.

Best team ever.

zr

Canada’s Conservative Stephen Harper Government Emulates, Flatters, and Praises by Imitation Assad, Kim Jong-il, Various Dictators, and Anti-Christian Fellow Travellers

The story:

Canada’s Minister of Natural Resources, Joe Oliver, has become the latest politician to blame the United States for problems affecting his own country.

 At issue is the so-called “Gateway” pipeline from Alberta to British Columbia that, if built, would allow Canada to ship Alberta tar sands products to Asia.

Piqued by an American deferral of the “Keystone” pipeline, which would run north from Alberta south to the Gulf of Mexico, the Harperites, as they are known in Canada, thought they’d play a little hardball with the U.S. and say that Canada would take its oil and ship it to China as a result of U.S. dithering over environmental concerns.

What the Harper government knew, though, was that there was already plenty of opposition to a Canadian pipeline across territory that includes First Nations (Indian) land.  In an effort to get out in front of any opposition, the Harper government, in the voice of hapless Joe Oliver, decided to blame environmentalist American “billionaire socialists” (warning: massive CBC advertising amplification!! http://www.cbc.ca/video/#/News/TV_Shows/The_National/1233408557/ID=2185209491) for any potential impediments to the east-west Canadian pipeline.

Just one part of the reason Minister Oliver could not rail against his own citizens (Natives) was because they’d already shown themselves to be fairly savvy with respect to business and resource deals, and had in fact made agreements that didn’t involve pipelines.  Can’t criticize at home, better go abroad, is what Joe was counseled.

The implications:

By so doing, the Harper government has become just the latest one to blame the U.S. for pretty well everything.  Typically, I’m right out in front of that one; I’m ready to blame the U.S. for just about anything, and generally the U.S. richly deserves it.  There are big and/or powerful countries out there, besides the U.S., that don’t choose to bankrupt themselves by meddling in other countries. 

Look at the dismaying cartoon strip that is U.S. politics.  I’d like to go on.  But sometimes, you do have to feel for the U.S., which does contain some good and sensible people that you don’t see on TV every night.  And here’s good ol’ Joe Oliver, Canadian government minister, joining every tin-pot dictator and knee-jerk wingnut in condemning the U.S. for messing up Canada’s *own* pipeline dreams.  

In an interview with a Canadian radio show (http://www.cbc.ca/asithappens/episode/2012/01/09/the-monday-edition-8/), barely coherent (drunk, sleep-deprived, IQ of 74?) Joe refused to (obviously couldn’t) identify the “billionaire socialists” he’d named above.  He dismissed the fact that fewer than 20 of 4500 of those who signed up to comment on Gateway were American; the rest, he implied (he used the word “parrot”), were merely the equivalent of those who signed petitions (grassroots democracy is a hell of a thing, as Stockwell “Doris” Day found out early).  Meanwhile, of the 250 or so intervenors—those who are allowed to ask questions and not merely offer a few words of comment—multinationals like Exxon figured remarkably prominently.

Speaking of parroting, Oliver’s contemptuous term for democracy, one could note how, in his own open letter, Oliver slavishly emulates Newt Gingrich, the man who has been, in books and speeches, indeed in marriages, standing “at a crossroads” for some decades now: “Canada is on the edge of an historic choice,” the Minister intones.  For his full letter, read here: http://www.nrcan.gc.ca/media-room/news-release/2012/1/3520.  It’s probably worthwhile reading since, because the Minister himself probably doesn’t have a clue what it says, it may give you a random point on a map from which you can then re-orient yourself towards whatever thoughts the Minister may have but is not likely to reveal (unless Harper tells/lets him/gets around to reading them first).

Prime Minister Stephen Harper and his Conservative government, through Minister Joe Oliver, are attempting to cheapen and debase Canadian politics once again, by making outlandish claims about U.S. “billionaire socialists” that they can’t substantiate and honestly never really intended to try to.  (And they probably got scared like hell by lawyers, and that only shows what hick rubes they really are.) Using the Assad mode, Harper is trying to blame foreign interference in Canadian affairs.  Oliver, parroting Kim Jong-il, is attempting to suggest that it is the U.S. that is attempting to undermine the Canadian state, and thus build up Canadian support for projects that, in democracies, would come under public scrutiny.

A Handful of Hard Facts:

It may be that, relatively speaking, pipelines don’t present so much incredible danger.  In the sense that a loaded gun pointed at your head if the trigger isn’t pulled doesn’t present danger, or a bathtub full of water won’t empty if you don’t pull the plug, surely pipelines don’t present much danger.  But Americans just watched an Enbridge pipeline spill into a Michigan river, so how could anyone expect Oklahomans to leap with gaiety at the thought of a TransCanada spill in their own aquifers? 

As Natives point out, one massive oil spill off Kitimat could have ramifications for generations or more—this—this merits Minister Oliver’s contempt.  A man who probably couldn’t find Kitimat on a map with oven mitts is now in charge of it.  There is much to fear.

Get serious, Canada, you don’t even own the sludge you want to export, anyway; China sure as hell isn’t going to wait on a pipeline when it can just come over and buy pretty much anything it wants and mock Canadian energy sovereignty: http://www.calgaryherald.com/business/Chinese+firm+buys+full+stake+oilsands+project/5943628/story.html  Canadians might just as well live in Guangdong and murder dissidents and serve tea while they’re at it for all Minister Oliver knows or cares about his file. 

Gutless Joe Oliver, in defense of the American multinationals (not those chimerical “billionaire socialists”) he wants to build Canadian pipelines, quails and wheedles and whinges that Canada just doesn’t have what it takes to develop its own tar sands.  You go tell Tommy Douglas, or Lester Pearson, or, for that matter, John A. Macdonald, that.  (In his letter, that one of his 18-yr-old staffers wrote, Oliver hails Macdonald.  But what his keen undergraduate hiree doesn’t know, and what Oliver also doesn’t, is that Macdonald was a patriot who was determined to act in Canada’s interests, not sell them out.)  If the Harper government really wanted to stand up for Canada, it would create a national energy strategy in Canada. 

Bottom line:

Canada’s Stephen Harper Conservative government has emulated the world’s most discredited and despised right-wing dictators by blaming domestic shortcomings on U.S. interference.