The Greeks Don’t Want No Freaks

Now, I don’t know if Michael Jackson ever had any tour dates in Greece or not; the post title is from an old Eagles song and the tie in is the “freak” part because, in my opinion, Michael Jackson fit that label.

I only ever listened to any of Michael Jackson’s music in a peripheral way.  In the ’80’s you couldn’t avoid it, really.  It was on the radio and on television as the media picked up on the fervour and hyped it up to astonishing levels.  I never bought a single recording of his.  Not one.  Nor any other piece of Jackson fan trash.

In fact, other than those times when the media placed Michael Jackson squarely in my face, I never gave him a second thought.  And, I now patiently await the day when MJ-related headlines disappear from the top of my news reader.  I already hide anything entertainment-related and how the aftermath of MJ’s passing can be considered “news”, I have no idea.

I abhor the American cult of celebrity.  I don’t understand it, really.  I fail to see how so much “value” can be placed on individuals whose “talents” contribute nothing to the world, other than “entertainment” and tabloid fodder.  I am saddened, also, that Canadians have willingly imported this idea and are making it their own.  Is life really so uninteresting that you have to devote your energy to being the consummate “fan”?  Pity.

Although I recognize that I am in the minority, I am not entirely alone.  Alicia penned an excellent essay on the hooplah surrounding the deaths of “celebrities” and the resultant mourning sickness.

 Annie wrote a bit for her grog, again solidly re-establishing herself in the minority, inviting criticism for saying what many others think but are apparently afraid to say themselves.

However, the topper came from one of my regular reads this morning.  Jim Kunstler writes thought-provoking essays with uncommon flair.  Today’s piece – the man in the mirror – strips away the gauzy veil from Jackson’s existence and ties it in to his usual theme about how the US is driving at breakneck speed down a highway all the while ignoring the signs warning of a “BRIDGE OUT” ahead. Here’s how Jim sums it up:

When he dropped dead last week, the nation’s morbidly maudlin response suggested a cover story for the relief of being rid of him and all the embarrassment he provoked. One CNN reporter called him a genius the equal of Mozart. That’s a little like calling Rachel Maddow the reincarnation of Eleanor Roosevelt. A nation addicted to lying to itself tells itself fairy tales instead of facing a pathology report. Yet, like Michael Jackson, the undertone of horror story still pulses darkly in the background. The little boy who grew up to be the simulation of a girl was really a werewolf. The nation that defeated manifest evil in World War Two woke up one day years later to find itself stripped of its manhood, mentally enslaved to cheap entertainments, and hostage to its own grandiosity. Maybe in grieving so exorbitantly over this freak America is grieving for itself. All the loose talk about “love” from the media and the fans gives off the odor of self-love. America is “the man in the mirror,” the gigantic, floundering Narcissus, sailing into the stormy seas of history.

 

The Most Dangerous Game

The Most Dangerous Game is the title of Richard Connell’s most well known short story.  I read the story in a hard cover collection I had as a child called “Tales of Adventure” or something like that.  It’s about an American big game hunter who finds his role reversed when he becomes the hunted after dragging himself out of the sea onto the beach of a secretive island in the Caribbean.

I was reminded of the story when I read this piece today, which I found via Stacy Herbert at maxkeiser.com.

Apparently, wealthy people, with an inclination to do so, can buy themselves passage on a Russian luxury yacht to sail the pirate-infested waters around Somalia and, if they’re lucky, partake in a little pirate hunting.

Wealthy punters pay £3,500 per day to patrol the most dangerous waters in the world hoping to be attacked by raiders.

When attacked, they retaliate with grenade launchers, machine guns and rocket launchers, reports Austrian business paper Wirtschaftsblatt.

Additionally, for a few extra quid you can rent yourself an AK-47 and buy hundreds of rounds to go with it.

“They are worse than the pirates,” said Russian yachtsman Vladimir Mironov. “At least the pirates have the decency to take hostages, these people are just paying to commit murder,” he continued.

Now, I think the Somali pirates have been a little over the top with their escapades of late, but these paid hunting expeditions really take the cake. Not to mention being at the edge of a very slippery slope.

What’s next? Hunting crack-heads and gang-bangers in the derelict neighbourhoods of Los Angeles and New York City?

 

Ask the Blogger – Answers Part Five – An Anniversary Post

Today is not only the fifth instalment of my answers in response to “Ask the Blogger”, but it also the second anniversary of annie’s and my wedding.

And so, in honour of today’s special occasion, I’m going to tackle the question(s) posed by Alicia: Since this lack of questions undoubtedly damaged your ego, of what accomplishment are you most proud? What’s your strongest personality trait?

Since we know Annie wouldn’t marry a loser … why DID she marry you?

of what accomplishment are you most proud?

This question is very similar to one of those job interview questions that I find difficult to answer. For me, it is very challenging to single out one accomplishment from a “body of work”, if you will, and point at it saying, “Of this one thing I’ve done, I am most proud.”

And so, in an attempt to answer your question, I have elected to look over the course of the life I have lived thus far and, if I consider that course to have been a trail or road of sorts, pick out the most significant “course correction” I was instrumental in making that brought me (us) to where I am (we are) today.

We make many choices as we live our lives. Choices made today set up the choices and opportunities available to us tomorrow.

In my case, the choice that had the largest impact on our lives, the choice that led to what I consider my greatest “accomplishment”, was made at a time when my first wife and I had been married about four years. Our girls were the ages of 2 years and essentially newborn. We were living in a small two bedroom basement apartment in Beaverlodge. I was working for a local oilfield trucking company, with irregular hours translating to irregular pay. It was a situation that did not hold a lot of promise of delivering the sort of future or life style we wanted.

I elected to apply to university. The goal was an engineering degree and a career in the burgeoning oil and gas industry of Alberta.

I did not get accepted into the Faculty of Engineering for the 1984 Fall session; they defaulted me to General Studies. I elected not to go for two reasons: 1) I didn’t want to spend the extra year and gamble on transferring into Engineering, and 2) we learned Shelley was pregnant with our second child.

I applied again for the 1985 Fall session and was accepted! We loaded up our car and our pick up – Clampett style – and headed out for Calgary and our new future.

I successfully completed the program in four years* and entered the career path that gave us a better life style, brought me (and us) untold opportunities that were heretofore unavailable and, in most cases, never dreamed of, and radically altered our life path, I think, for the much better.

At the time I didn’t really think it was that big a deal, but enough people expressed amazement and admiration that not only had I returned to university a bit later in life, but did so with a young family, and did as well as I did, that I began to think that maybe this was quite an accomplishment after all.

What’s your strongest personality trait?

I admit that I had to do a little research to find the correct labels for the different personality traits and factors. I had done the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test before at my previous place of employment, but I couldn’t exactly remember my type. I knew I was an “I” and that it ended in “J”, but I was uncertain of the middle two letters. Luckily, I found a free on-line test and, after breezing through the questionnaire, confirmed that I am an “INTJ” personality type.

According to the wikipedia page on Myers-Brigg, “INTJ” types are about 1% of the population and are deemed to be “Masterminds“.  The description is alarmly accurate:

Masterminds are introspective, pragmatic, directive, and attentive. As strategists, they are better than any other type at brainstorming approaches to situations. Masterminds are natural but not eager leaders, stepping forward only when it becomes obvious to them that they are the best for the job. Strong-willed and very self-assured, they may make this decision quickly, as they tend to make all decisions. But though they are decisive, they are open to new evidence and new ideas, flexible in their planning to accommodate changing situations. They tend to excel at judging the usefulness of ideas and will apply whatever seems most efficient to them in accomplishing their clearly envisioned goals. To Masterminds, what matters is getting it done—but also learning the principles of how to get it done efficiently and well, that is, at a professional level of quality. They tend to give little thought to the personal cost of getting there.

Masterminds are highly pragmatic, and they will put forth a great deal of time and effort to implement effective ideas. They are driven to solve complex problems and to create organized, decided, and executed solutions. Masterminds tend to make positive statements instead of negative ones, focusing on how to make the organization more efficient in the future rather than dwelling on past mistakes.

Masterminds are also highly theoretical, and the most open-minded of the 16 role variants. Before Masterminds adopt a theoretical notion, they insist on researching all the available data and checking the idea against reality. Masterminds are suspicious of theories based on poor research and will discard ideas that cannot be effectively implemented.

As leaders, Masterminds are skilled in contingency planning and entailment organizing, which are directive activities that tell the planner what activities to do and in what order to do them. Once in a position of power, Masterminds are known for their efficiency and willingness to adopt useful ideas.

 But, if one desires a more specific answer, then we have to go to the page on 16 personality factors. From that I will say that I consider my dominant personality trait to be:

 Self-Reliance, in the High Range: Self-reliant, solitary, resourceful, individualistic, self sufficient (Self-Sufficiency)

 And, lastly…

Since we know Annie wouldn’t marry a loser … why DID she marry you?

In answering this question, I am trying not to give away too much of what will ultimately be – hopefully – published in our joint memoir. 

When Annie and I first met and started corresponding – as friends – there was a sort of strange connection. It was like we had always known each other. We could finish each other’s thoughts and sentences. We thought the same things, the same responses to a variety of ideas and topics, at about the same time.

I’m genuine. I am me. What you see in front of you is really who I am. Annie could be herself, was herself, in our interactions.

I could make her laugh. After her experiences with Will’s illness, his dying and the aftermath of early widowhood, I felt that she needed to spend a little time laughing.

Once we realized that there was something more to our friendship, we jointly agreed to move forward in expanding and deepening what we had stumbled into.

So, why did Annie marry me? Because I’m me. And because I asked her to marry me.

We married two years ago today. It seems such a short time but, because we are “twins” of a sort, it seems much longer.

 

 

* I did do one Spring/Summer session after first year because, after a six year lay off from high school graduation, I was struggling a bit with the course load.

 

Ask the Blogger – Answers Part Four – THE SOCKS QUESTION

Today is the fourth instalment of my answers in response to “Ask the Blogger”.

Today’s question(s) were asked by Sassy Miss P (Sassy Miss P used to have a blog, but no longer.): Where do you think socks go? And why never in pairs?

Well, the quantum theory of socks recently published on Ærchie’s Archive notwithstanding, I will provide the definitive theory of Rob on the inter-dimensional, extra-relationship activities of the seemingly innocuous appearing life form known on earth as socks.

Firstly, it must be appreciated that Douglas Adams was not correct in his assertion that dolphins are at the top of the intelligence pyramid on earth. That honour goes to none other than – yes, you guessed it – socks.

Socks live lives of quiet desperation (where have I heard that before?) here on earth. Assuming the lowliest of lowly positions, allowing themselves to be placed weekly, sometimes daily, over the smelliest and, in some cases, ugliest appendages belonging to human beings. Yes, I’m talking about feet.

As a digression, those socks who are elevated to the role of “sock puppet” truly are blessed in the world of socks.

Not only do socks have to contend with being in close proximity to human feet, but they also spend an inordinate amount of time stuffed into various forms and styles of footwear. From athletic shoes, to work shoes and boots, to dress shoes and, in that greatest of fashion faux pas, men’s sandals. The assignment is drudgery and definitely not one for a claustrophobic sock. Tight quarters, little air to breathe, and, most gross of all, foot sweat.

So, if that were a description of your life, wouldn’t you feel that you deserved – nay, needed – a little break now and then?

Well, most socks do and that is why socks have mastered the ability of inter-dimensional travel. They can, essentially, will themselves out of our dimension and into another dimension where they, socks, rule the universe.

Stephen King, the writer, stumbled onto this concept recently and clumsily tried to describe it in his novel Lisey’s Story. He ascribed the ability, however, to humans which is, in my humble opinion, a grave mistake. Humans would never be capable of such a transcendent quality.

In the novel, one of the main characters, a dead author himself, named Scott Landon, was able to transport himself to a place he called Booya Moon. It is a place similar to this to which the socks of our world take themselves when they are in need of respite from the boots and shoes of the humankind of earth.

Socks, intelligent and gifted as they are, are all born with a common personality quirk. Some would call it a flaw or a defect, depending, of course, upon their very human viewpoint. Because there are other humans who would consider this quirk simply normal.

The quirk is, naturally, an inability to remain monogamous. Socks are biologically programmed to seek out a mate and partner who is, in all aspects, identical to themselves. This is a necessary survival feature as well, as it enables socks to blend, when in pairs, into the human environment where they serve on earth.

So it seems quite a contradiction, then, that socks have these diametrically opposed tendencies. But that is the reason why, when socks disappear for their routine sojourn to Booya Moon, they never go together. Typically, a sock will take off with a sock from another pair! We only know this, though, from the evidence left behind. That is, those mis-matched pairs of socks you find in your sock drawer.

While humans find the idea of mis-matched socks very annoying, well, at least some humans do, this annoyance is necessary if we are to see continuing diversity, even a growth in diversity, among the sock population. After all, we don’t want to live in a world populated strictly with white athletic socks, gray woollies, black dress socks and the like, do we? Thought not.

Eventually, once a sock has rested itself and recharged during a vacation to Booya Moon, it will make the return trip to our dimension. They will show up in the oddest of places, however. Why, just the other day I found one stuck to the inside of one of my shirts!

 

Ask the Blogger – Answers Part Three

Today is the third instalment of my answers in response to “Ask the Blogger”.

Today’s question was asked by Stella: Did you ever have a premonition about any major events that have happened in your life? (Good or bad.)

My sensitivity to the aspects of our world that are outside of the five senses is not overly well developed but it is not absent either.

I have had the “sense” of being under the protection of something like a “guardian angel” for most of my life. It’s the only way I can rationalize the fact that there have been several instances where I have not died but probably should have. In most cases, had I died or been killed, the cause of death would have been “death by misadventure”. I will not elaborate further, however.

I often experience the sense of déjà vu. Generally, some mundane experience in a dream will occur days, weeks or months later in reality. Oddly, not that long ago, and for a completely different reason, I was looking at the wikipedia entry on déjà vu and I found that I do not agree with the purported assessments of the phenomenon as being recalled memories. I am certain that my experiences were such that situations, places and dialog were revealed to me in dreams in advance of their occurring in meat-space.

Annie and I have both written about the paranormal experiences we have had, in particular, in the house which we now currently call home. And, although I have been having these experiences since moving in to this house in 1996, these types of experiences, both here and elsewhere, have increased in frequency since my first wife, Shelley, died. (And, yes, she was at home here when she died.)

Now, none of these experiences could be deemed as premonitions, I don’t think, according to the wikipedia definition. My déjà vu experiences would come closest to the definition, but none of those have ever been about any major events, either good or bad. So, I must conclude that no, I have never experienced a premonition about a major event.

Minor events? I’m not sure. There was this one time…..

It was the summer of 1993. We were travelling from our then home in Caney, KS out to Beaver Creek, CO to spend a week in a timeshare exchange with my sister-in-law, DB, and her family. In trying to see as much country as possible during our sojourn in the USA, we decided to swing by Dodge City, KS before heading up to I-70 and turn west for Denver and points west.

We were driving our virtually new ’93 Chev Astro. It was loaded up with camping gear, coolers of food and all of our luggage. We arrived in Dodge City late in the afternoon. It was a great disappointment. The city is surrounded by cattle feed lots and the smell on a hot August afternoon was overpowering to say the least. We missed the Dodge City Front Street exhibit, the whole reason for stopping by, and were only able to peer through the gaps between the fence boards. Highly unsatisfying.

We “got out of Dodge” heading north on hwy 283. Relying on the Rand McNally road atlas, we planned to camp for the night at Hodgeman State Lake and Wildlife Area. We got to Jetmore and, not seeing any signs, asked for some directions while gassing up the van.

“Why do you want to go there?” I was asked. “The lake’s all dried up.”

I must have looked stricken, as dusk was coming on soon and we needed a place to stay. I explained that were looking for a place to camp for the night.

“Well, why don’t you try our new campground at Jetmore City Lake?”

I got the directions and, after paying for the gas, we headed for Jetmore City Lake. It was three miles west and a mile south of Jetmore. And it was easy to find. Leaving hwy 156, the road was immediately gravel. The last ½ mile was a fairly new road and looked to be a clay base and nothing else. There was a slight grade up and, after topping out on a low hill, a slight grade down to the campground entrance.

Topping the low rise, I uttered what turned out to be a prophetic statement:

“If it rains while we’re in here, we’re screwed.”

I stopped at the entry and filled out the registration card, placed my $7 in the envelope and deposited it into the lockbox.

I should have looked at the campground first. It was brand new. And it was built on the bald prairie. The lake was nothing more than a slough, a wide spot in the river, really. I laughed when I saw the billboard with the directions for boater’s entreating them to travel in a clockwise circle pattern only.

We had supper and settled in to our tent for the night. Just as the rain started.

It rained all night long. I hardly slept because the wind kept changing direction and I was nervous about rotating storms. This being western Kansas, and all.

At 5 am, the water breached the tent floor running over the floor and under our bedding. That was enough for me. We all got up, dressed and then proceeded to load our sopping gear into the van in a steady rain.

We were ready to go by 7 am. The rain stopped. So far, so good. We ambled the ½ mile or so to the campground entry and I stopped the vehicle to survey the stretch of clay road that lay ahead.

I backed up a bit to get a run at it. I took a deep breath. Foot off the brake and onto the gas. Ten miles per hour. Fifteen. Twenty. We left the gravel and hit the clay and…….the van slewed sideways. We were upright and still on the road. But, stuck.

I could get the van to rock and move slightly backwards and forwards. I found we could make gradual progress up the hill. It took 5 hours to gain the top of that low rise a quarter mile away.

Reaching the top (finally), the van straightened. I pointed it downhill and within a couple of minutes we were back on the hardtop and away.

So, I guess we weren’t totally screwed, after all.

 

Ask the Blogger – Answers Part Two

Today is the second instalment of my answers in response to “Ask the Blogger”.

Today’s question was asked by daisyfae: thinking back to childhood, can you identify a ‘defining moment’ that was absolutely invisible to family and friends? one of those things that made you who you are, but no one else caught at the time?

A defining moment? Invisible to family and friends? An interesting question, to be sure.

The first thing to say in response to this question is that I am now in my late forties. That means that, for me, I have long ago exceeded my memory’s capacity. Like a too-small computer hard drive, room for new memories is made at the expense of purging old memories. While that sounds a bit cold, I suppose, it is a little bit accurate. Unless prompted or triggered, there are many, many things that I no longer recollect.

I’ve given a lot of thought to this question and worried a multitude of various possibilities that might provide an answer. And yet, I can only conclude that there was no single defining moment. Honestly, I don’t know how that could be true for any one other than a one dimensional fictional character.

To be able to begin to explore the question of origins, though, I think one must start with an assessment of who they really are. Today. In the now. And that, too, is a very complicated question to answer. Not to mention the fact that, in my culture, to overtly describe oneself and, more especially, to draw attention to one’s especially positive attributes is not the norm. In short, we do not care to “toot our own horns”, if you will.

So, where do you start? What defines me and who I am?

I was born to youngish parents, a first born male. My father was an ex-RCMP member with no formal training in any other trade or career but with a natural penchant for sales. My mother was a naïve young woman, the baby of her family and totally unschooled in the ways of the world.

Dad had a travelling sales position, selling pre-fabricated home packages, in a broad territory encompassing most of northeastern Ontario. My earliest memories of him were his absence.

An extrovert, and naturally aggressive, he could be very charming. But he had his own demons too, and he self-medicated with alcohol trying to tame them. A side effect of these treatments, however, was meanness coupled with a tendency for physical violence. This was not improved by an innate foul temper.

When he was at home and not on the road for his job, he preferred to spend his evenings at one of the local pubs. This was during the time that most drinking establishments had a “Men-Only” side and a “Ladies and Gents” side. Dad’s preference was the “Men-Only” side. I don’t know how Mom dealt with this situation, although she can not have viewed it positively. Another faint childhood memory is of one occasion when Mom, sick and tired of Dad’s behaviour, drove my sister* and I down the pub. She walked us up to the window and bade us to look inside.** Although I don’t recall exactly what I saw through those gauzy curtains and I don’t know that I actually saw my dad, the scene in my memory is of several men seated at a round table. Details of what was on the table are unclear. One of the men may have been my dad, but I just don’t remember.

Now that you have a slight flavour*** for what my main role model was like during my formative years, you might begin to understand that most of who I am today is a result of beginnings where I wanted to be the exact opposite of my dad. Simple things, really, but I vowed that, when I was a grown up man, I would stay home and spend my time with my family. I wouldn’t drink.**** I wouldn’t smoke.***** I wouldn’t hit my wife.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The narrative continued but as I read it over trying to figure out how to tie it up, I realized it was going in a direction other than in any kind of answer to the question. So, as I have absolute veto on what I write and publish, I am cutting off and deleting the narrative that followed and will summarize my ‘defining moment’ unseen and unrecognized by anyone:

a small boy standing on tip toes outside a pub window in the dark next to his sister, fingers on the sill, peering through gauzy curtains at a man who would rather carouse with acquaintances than spend time at home with his family.

* There was only the two of us at the time. Eventually I would have another sister and a brother.
** Apparently, there was a time when there were windows that you could look through and see into a drinking establishment.
*** Very slight, I know. But it would take pages and pages to fully develop the character that was my father. And he had some good qualities, too, as Mom says. Otherwise, why would she have married him in the first place? And, let’s face it, if Mom and Dad had not had a relationship, where would I be?
**** Didn’t quite succeed with that one. However, nowadays, there is very little alcohol in the house and I partake only rarely. Despite genetic or hereditary potential, alcohol abuse has never been an issue.
***** Tried it. It didn’t stick.

 

Ask the Blogger – Answers Part One

Welcome to the first of my answers in response to “Ask the Blogger”. The answers will be coming one at a time, so you will have to wait, with bated breath, for these to roll out day by day.

The first one I’m tackling was asked by Silverstar: What is your dream vacation? If money were no object, where would you go?

I think that the concept of vacations has always eluded me. I’ve always looked forward to time off from work* but it’s been rare that I’ve planned a vacation. I’m getting better at it now, but it wasn’t always so.

When we were much younger, vacations often meant travelling to spend time with family. So, with all of the driving to get there (and back) and the chore list that generally awaited me, vacations were really not vacations. It’s probably the sort of thing that many young families do and, when you live far enough away from parents/grand-parents, it’s overall a good thing to do so your children can get to know their grand-parents, aunts and uncles and cousins.

When we relocated to Kansas in the USA for several years, we still made annual pilgrimages back to the homestead. But because the distance was so great we began to take in some of the sights in between. In this manner we visited many places in the American West, in Colorado (Leadville and Dinosaur National Monument), Wyoming (Yellowstone National Park), North Dakota (Teddy Roosevelt National Park), South Dakota (Rapid City, Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse Monument), Nebraska (Chimney Rock) and Montana.

After we moved back to Canada we embarked on a bi-annual journey down to the US to meet up with and vacation with friends we made while in Kansas. We saw Glacier National Park in Montana and the Grand Canyon in Arizona in this fashion. Those vacations were a little more like real vacations as, aside from the driving, there were no chore lists for me to complete. (Not including, of course, the work associated with daily life while on a camping vacation.)

Although I don’t get to go as much anymore, I still love spending several days camping at large in the wilderness areas east of the Alberta Rockies. I find I get significant spiritual renewal just communing with nature.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have a couple of Caribbean vacations over the years as well. Both of these were to the island of St. Martin/St. Maarten, the latter being part of the lesser Netherlands Antilles. We stayed on the Dutch side both times and spent a week or so each time sight seeing, going on excursions, laying on the beach or lounging by the pool. While a sun spot vacation is a highly sought commodity around here, especially in the middle of winter, I find myself growing restless after a few days. I have this inner compulsion, it seems, to be doing something constructive. I can’t just go somewhere and “relax”.

And I’ve taken more than one vacation where I simply stay home and complete various chores around the house and yard. More often than not, these chores involve some sort of renovation activity. A lot of people would consider this a crazy way to spend a vacation but, as I am essentially a desk worker, I find that time spent working with my hands and doing a bit of physical labour is very therapeutic.

So, in the context of how I view vacations in general, I will tackle Silverstar’s question. She was a bit surprised when I referred to her question as a “softball” and added,

A softball question? Maybe. But I find it very revealing.

I considered it a softball because I knew the answer I would write right off.

So, if money were no object, and there were no other barriers, my fantasy vacation experience would be to ascend Mt. Everest. Although from what I’ve read, the routes up Everest are ecological disasters (a fact which, I’ve also read, is starting to be addressed), it still seems to be the ultimate in personal challenges to ascend and, more importantly, summit on Everest. I’d always been intrigued with Everest and my interest was heightened after reading Jon Krakauer’s accounting, titled “Into Thin Air”. I managed to view a couple of documentary episodes of an Everest expedition on the Discovery Channel (couldn’t find a video copy of it, though) and I even watched the film version of “Into Thin Air”. The fact that people have died attempting to ascend Everest has not deterred me.

Following on with the “money is no object” theme, my other fantasy vacation experience is not really a vacation. I remember a discussion about different jobs and careers in the control room of the plant I used to work in. The question was put to me, “Where would you prefer to work, if you could have job wherever you wanted?”

Without a moment’s pause, my reply was, “I’d like to work in space.”

From my earliest memories of watching “Star Trek” and reading books and stories by Asimov, Heinlein and Bradbury, I’ve had a fascination with everything extra-terrestrial. At minimum, and in a realist’s view, the closest I could come to fulfilling this life-long fantasy would be a trip as (*shudder*) a space tourist up to the ISS. With a space walk thrown in for good measure!

So there you have it, dear readers, the first of my answers posed via “Ask the Blogger”.

Silverstar, I guess I’d be interested to hear what my vacation picks say about me (to you).

Stay tuned for more answers in the days ahead.

* That is, the paying job.

 

Ask the Blogger – Answers….Teaser

Wow.  With a sudden outburst of sympathy, y’all have asked some great questions!  Although I’ve never a shortage of things to talk about, opine upon or satirize, these questions do provoke more than a little of that generally uncomfortable exercise: soul searching.

At first I figured I was only going to have to address a couple of questions.  Silverstar lobbed in a softball, whilst daisyfae posed a real introspective prompter.

But, a few more trooped in and dropped their little gems too.

I’ve got to think some on a couple of the questions, so I will be breaking up my responses over two or three posts.  Rest assured, though, that I will provide an answer to every question.

Thanks to all of you who stopped by and left a question!

 

Commenters are Funny

A few days ago, I wrote a little about the growing backlash in Canada over the recently renewed “Buy American” campaign in the US, which is also entrenched in the economic recovery act, or “stimulus” bill.

There has been some ongoing debate about this here, with both sides tackling the issue.  This piece, in the Globe and Mail, posits that the Provinces have only themselves to blame.  A long history of petty bickering and squabbling over inter-provincial trade barriers, and the inability to remove them, meant that there was a slim chance the provinces and Ottawa could unite to provide the framework for a section left open in NAFTA to define reciprocity measures.

Canadian and American negotiators went so far as to leave a nice space in the voluminous NAFTA deal for a reciprocity arrangement – Section 1024.

“The parties shall commence further negotiations no later than Dec. 31, 1998, with a view to the further liberalization of their respective government procurement markets,” according to the NAFTA text. The section further committed the countries to try to get state and provincial governments on board – “on a voluntary and reciprocal basis.”

The article itself is a bit of a history lesson now, but I got quite a chuckle out of this comment left by “garlicktoast”:

If American dairy producers had access to our markets, we would lose our own dairy industry.  I don’t trust them to not accidentally poison us.

It might be that I am one of the few who find this funny, in a scarily true sort of way, but that’s the way I roll.

 

Aiding and Abetting – or Ask the Blogger

Annie’s last Monday meme was aptly titled “Asking MEme“.  Shamelessly stealing borrowing:

A while a back I suggested to a blogger friend that she steal posting ideas when she felt wrung dry by the blogging process. She promptly posted a clever idea that involved asking her readers to submit questions for an interview of her. She put nothing off limits.

Intrigued, I am going to dip a toe into that water myself. I hope it is not too glacial.

I can’t believe there are many unturned stones in my life as I tend toward too much self-revelation, but if I can satisfy the curious mind, I will try.

Leave your questions in the comments. I will gather them up and reply á la interview style later in the week.

Even though I don’t believe there enough readers at this blog to warrant such an exercise, I have been dared.  And I never refuse a dare.

So, fire away!  Leave your questions in the comments and I’ll answer them. Maybe even truthfully.