Irony Lives!

My little thesis for this week is that irony is getting a new life. To buttress this opinion, I offer the following examples.

1) Global Warming

The fact that the media is still using this term surprises. Few dispute the concept of climate change (climate is always changing) but if global warming is still occurring, it is news to anyone living in the Northern hemisphere. The Arctic climate, the polar vortex, the Siberian air mass, or whatever, WON'T GO AWAY.

Those that rejoice in this: Ski hill operators and polar bears.

Those unhappy with this turn of events: Al Gore and David Suzuki.

2) Better Living Through Technology

The irony here begins with the first workable version of an item of technology (a home computer, a mobile phone) that creates a great deal of satisfaction (and a great deal of money). Then the "better living" aspect all goes to ratshit. Future versions of the item become so intricate, so complicated, that if this is "better living", irony truly lives. Bah, humbug.

3) The Arab Spring

Little Tunisia excepted, this entire initiative has sprung back to the winter of the Islamic 9th century, now complete with modern and murderous weaponry. And the "spring" is spreading through such lovely groups as the Islamic State. Al Qaeda, Boko Haram, and a gazillion little off shoots, all bent on sharing the wonder of a kind and merciful imaginary friend. I can only trust that the hope-filled word "spring" has not been forever doomed to irony.

And would that the master of irony, O. Henry, agree? I suspect so. Wholeheartedly.

The Serengeti Analogy

First, a definition of 'analogy'. This is necessary or else the argument which follows will founder.

The O.E.D. defines the term thusly: "A resemblance of relations or attributes as a ground for reasoning." The term "resemblance" is key; we are not talking in terms of direct copies or clones, but rather are in the world of the "akin" -- something close to the original whose use is to better illustrate a point.

Given this, I should like for a moment to dip a toe into the crystal clear waters of algebra,* to wit: "an analogy to x would be y." Expanding this analogy, I would see x as the world of crazed Islamic jihadists, and y as the world viewed as the Serengeti National Park in Tanzania.

In these two worlds, dangers lurk. In terms of x, if one is careless, or gets too close to a jihadist herd, one is all too likely to meet a nasty fate involving being shot, hanged or (a favourite) beheaded. Oh, and if a woman, the possibility of being stoned to death becomes a grim reality.

In the world of y, Tennyson's line of nature being "red in tooth and claw" is first and foremost, particularly if you are a wildebeest.** The big cats -- the lion, the leopard, the cheetah -- are some distance from cute little Muffin who contentedly curls up on your sofa. Moreover, getting too close to a water buffalo or rhino is strongly not advised.

And there is the nub of the analogy in the phrase "getting too close." In the Serengeti, this makes perfect sense, and most everyone complies, realizing that you are not looked upon as a benefactor or well-wisher, but as something to be gored or trampled or, dare I say, lunch.***

In the world of x, this oddly does not appear to make the sense it does in the world of y. In both worlds, animals attack, with the clarification that in the Serengeti the animals are really animals while the jihadists are somewhat lower on the evolutionary scale, and should be classified as sub-human.

Yet far too many people, often with a willingness to help and bring relief to those suffering in the world of x, fall into the hands of the jihadists and come to ghastly ends. This would never happen in the world of y. One can but hope, however, that once x is viewed as being akin to y, people will stop "getting too close."

Unless, of course, you are in a capable army unit and armed to the teeth.

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*Algebra -- a term developed by Arabs before all too many of their "leaders" decided that education was a Western Satanic practice.

**Alfred Lord Tennyson, "In Memoriam".

*** Not all comply, given poachers profiting from the horrible trade in elephant ivory and rhino horn. China really has to get serious about moving into the twentieth century.

A Male / Female Unscientific Survey

The other day, on TV, I stumbled into a rather weird little survey on the just how powerful was a woman's prettiness on a man's attraction to her.  The survey was a segment on one of those shows featuring the glories of home decoration, the wonders of modern cookware, and how best to improve familial relations.

Now normally I would have fled the channel. I thought the survey question bordered on the ludicrous, but lingered to hear the result. The program I was much more interested in, a documentary on Bell's Theorem and quantum entanglement,* had a few minutes to go before being aired, and I already knew the result of the survey.

Or thought I did. Men fall for the pretty every time. This view was supported heavily by the (almost all female) audience.

Not so, came the answer.

The survey done by some Bureau of Statistics somewhere -- the show's host was a tad vague at this point -- indicated that some 70% of men looked for other attributes in women before  beauty.

When I thought about it, I realized that the discrepancy between the audience's results and those of the actual survey was not surprising. On these types of talk shows, men are often written off without any regard for their ability to suss out the qualities mentioned in the survey: intelligence, kindness, wit, and a good sense of humour.

Given the above, a woman with these qualities would be highly successful in the partnership milieu. Being pretty would help, but it wouldn't be the be all and end all. (Unless she were ten feet tall, came with two club feet, and possessed facial features equivalent to a relief map of Montenegro. Then, yes, perhaps all bets would be off.)

And if the survey's designer was not named in the TV show, I can give a sturdier prop to the survey's findings. Here I turn to Marcel Proust, who in one of his letters wrote, "Let us leave pretty women to men without imagination."

It is for insights like these that the good Marcel and his A La Recherche De Temps Perdu will remain a classic for a very, very long time.

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* Don't ask. Suffice it to say that Bell's Theorem was cited by Einstein as "Spooky action at a distance." If feeling brave, turn to Google. -- Ed.

It's Not Always Doom And Gloom

Looking over my last few posts, I was struck by a concentration on the negative. I then thought, well, enough of that, let's explore something more on the positive side, something that has nothing to do with crazed jihadists, tumbling economies, or the Wynne Government in Ontario. (The last two are not mutually exclusive).*

To serve as a foundation for what is to follow, I give you the following, taken from Niccolo Machiavelli's text, The Prince:

    "There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous
     to conduct, or more uncertain of success, than to take the lead
     in the introduction of a new order of things."

Using this statement as a rubric, I then researched a number of polls where Canadians had cited their two most esteemed and memorable figures. Many votes were given to Pierre Trudeau, Wilfred Laurier, Lester Pearson and of course, given the national sport, Bobby Orr and Wayne Gretzky. All fine and dandy, but these names didn't come close to the two top citations.

To wit: Tommy Douglas and Sir John A. Macdonald.

Sir John came in second, and was commended for his desire to found a country from coast to coast, using his steel will to cajole and persuade doubters and using steel rails to bring the new country together via the Canadian Pacific Railway. I also believe his rating was this high because of an awareness, however dimly felt, that without Macdonald's perseverance, there would not have been a Canada.**

In first place, and justifiably so, was Tommy Douglas, who fought for a government run, single-payer health plan in his province of Saskatchewan. He succeeded against tremendous opposition from Saskatchewan doctors, but our Tommy was well used to heavy opposition fire, being a committed socialist surrounded by a slew of laissez-faire political rivals.

He succeeded, and not long afterwards, the Prime Minister of Canada at that time*** created legislation that made Douglas' plan a national reality. Canadians have been grateful ever since and, it must be said, are the envy of their cousins south of the border.

There. I feel much better now.

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* The Ontario Liberal government continues to create shock and awe. As her entire financial edifice continues to crash and burn, Kathleen Wynne suddenly takes up the cause of sex education in elementary schools, up to and including definitions of when sexual activity is "consensual". I despair. -- L.S.S.

** Many commentated that it was a pity that Macdonald drank too much. My answer to that: so did everyone else. At that time, to drink the water could (and at times did) prove deadly. - L.S.S.

*** John Diefenbaker, in 1962. Diefenbaker was always conscious of what the electorate wanted, at least until the AVRO Arrow fiasco. -- Ed.

A Most Effective Weapon

Where tyranny is involved, the news these days is not great. Indeed, |thinking of this I can remember Lord Strunsky, my late husband's father, citing a rather dark time at the start of the Second World War. He would then imitate a famed BBC announcer's voice by stating "This is Alvar Liddell, bringing you news of fresh disasters."

And so it is today, what with the atrocities being committed by such as ISIS, Al-Qaeda, Boko Haram and the like, all in the name of a religion founded on mercy and compassion. Not only do these creatures border on the sub-human, they cannot even read the dictates prominent in their prime text, the Qur'an. All very sad.

The "warriors" of these sects want to be seen as invincible martyrs for the cause, and boast of their total fearlessness. This almost holds true, save for one thing that they really do fear.

The best example of that thing in my opinion can be seen in the policies of that paragon of Nazism, Adolph Hitler. One policy was a "hit list" of those he most wanted exterminated. If you expected expect that at the top of such a list would be Churchill and Roosevelt, along with Stalin (a late entry) you would be right.

But not at the very top.

There you would find the comedic pianist Victor Borge, who always referred to Hitler as "Herr Schickelburger, the inept house painter," and portrayed the great leader as a total clown, and not a very good one at that. 

Hitler, whose ego was way too large for his demented psyche, was enraged. He was also, retaining a tiny bit of sanity, conscious that if Borge's work ever became widespread, there was a serious danger that his insane approach to governance would be exposed, and he would lose most of his followers (save for the truly warped, such as Himmler, Goering et al.) Hundreds were given the task of rooting out Borge, and the man had to flee from Denmark to England for safety.

So it is with the Islamic jihadists. They were truly disturbed when the Paris satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo published a cartoon featuring Mohammed, and immediately attacked, killing as many employees as possible.

Then the whole thing blew up in their face, with millions around the world marching in protest of the killing and suddenly far more aware of the danger of giving any credence to such "warriors". Now they could be seen for what they were -- murderers in total fear of being mocked.

Unfortunately, this sad tale is likely to continue. It will be, I fear, some time before a host of mullahs and imams, joined by priests and rabbis, (and yes, the Pope) join with Voltaire and state "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."

Good To Be Back, And An Update.

I must confess that the "hiatus" referred to in my last post went on considerably longer than I expected. I had hoped my vorpel sword would be going snicker-snack* around the first or second of January. Events, however, intervened.

I think my sojourn in Tahiti with the Comte De Rienville was to blame. It was there I came down with what I suspect was beri-beri (otherwise known as the undertaker's disease)* although the physicians I consulted, both in Tahiti and France, thought otherwise. I heard, for instance, mumbles about such afflictions as dengue fever, bronchitis or even, hard to believe, mumps.

The latter I deem ridiculous. My cheeks did not swell, and I am as about as far from playing in the National Hockey League as you can get.

Whatever. The upshot of all this was that it became impossible to write coherent stuff. Verbs wanted to hurl themselves into the passive periphrastic when it wasn't called for, adjectives wanted to become adverbs, and the pluperfect tense was nowhere to be found.

Moreover, the desire to plunge a satiric knife into the minds of those who follow the orders of imaginary "friends" such as Allah or Mohammed to kill all those who disagree with their zeitgeist, well, this desire waned. If I didn't know before that I was ill, I did now.

Gradually, however, things began to right themselves, and I tentatively write this, hoping all remains in order. I think it does, and in future missives will try to adhere to a schedule of writing these posts on the Thursday or Friday of the week, so that it becomes a means of welcoming Saturday morning. 

That's the plan, anyway, and I haven't been completely out of it. I know this because je suis Charlie.

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*cf, Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland. But you knew that already --- L.S.S.

** The use of that unfortunate phrase would appear to indicate that that The Lady is definitely on the mend. --- Ed

A Brief Hiatus

That time of year has arrived where I take a short Christmas break, but will return in early January. The Comte de Rienville has once again invited me and some of my progeny to his estate in Tahiti, and who could refuse such an offer?

There will , however, be a short side trip, in order to bring out of captivity a number of girls and women that were taken by the sub-humans known as the Islamic State.(IS) I have reviewed the plan, and believe it will succeed. My heart will be in the endeavour.
Females in such an IS environment do not stand a chance, and their situation is well described in a verse from the Talmud:

     "If a rock falls upon a jug, woe to the jug. If a jug falls
      upon a rock, woe to the jug."

Says it all, and I will report on this foray as well as other things of pitch and moment when I return in early January.

Keep on trucking, and may all readers enjoy a superb Christmas.
     

Generational Difference

"Come live with me, and be my love." So begins a short poem by Christopher Marlowe, and when I read this line, I immediately thought of its 21st century counterpoint: "Come live with me, and pay my rent."

I write this because it is becoming crystal clear that the generation following me will not be enjoying the opportunities and largesse that I did. Oh, there will always be a segment of society that does well, either through already being safely ensconced in the "haves", or equipped with the skills that society now demands (technological wizardry) or sheer blind luck vis-à-vis a lottery or an incredible day at the casino or the track.

For the rest, things will be tough. After all, according to a variety of economic studies, the coming generation will not match their parents in terms of wealth accrual. This has not happened for some time, hence the Marlowe update.

We must, however, take heart. Such generational disparity has occurred before, when society undergoes a massive economic shift. Think of the machines of the Industrial Revolution and the number of workers, particularly in agriculture, that they displaced. But eventually many of those workers discovered that they could run those machines, and (with some help from their friendly union) earn a living wage while doing so.

But what happens when machines run themselves, and continually improve their performance?

This is an area that a number of sound thinkers -- including Stephen Hawking --  are worried about: the idea that artificial intelligence will supersede our own, and we will then lose control over the whole shebang. Not so much a generational difference as a generational shutdown.

I am a bit more optimistic. I can envisage a world where machines look after providing the necessities of life, with no one required to do a stitch of work. To be sure, education would be a paramount priority, but such a world makes possible an hypothesis once put forward by Buckminster Fuller, upon which I conclude:

"The human race has to get back to what it was doing before some clown came along and said you have to work for a living."*

Food for thought.

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* Written in his short text, I Seem To Be A Verb. ---Ed.

Whither The Weather

I am somewhat behind my times, as Bob Cratchit once said, in that I spent the previous day with the Little Sisters Of Poverty And Pain, a group of nuns that I support in their charitable activities. I mean, there is faith, hope, and charity, and the greatest of these is charity.* In any event, I missed my writing time. These things happen, but I will stick to my John Wayne dictum: "Never apologize, pilgrim."

Now the good sisters take in a number of female refugees and women escaping from abusive situations, and I teach an English as a Second Language course to assist those who are having difficulty speaking the language. Things go very well at first, then the going gets rougher. As is known, English is an easy language to speak badly; it is an extremely difficult language to speak well.

A number of queries from my "students" focussed upon what to talk about that would be acceptable when they were part of a new group. I suggested they stay away from religion or politics, the two bugbears that have wrecked havoc upon society now and in the past. Rather, I recommended that they initially stick to that safest of all topics, the weather.

"Why?" asked one class member.

"Because," I replied, "no one really knows what weather is, and when precisely it will snow, rain, or whatever. Even meteorologists stumble all the time when predicting a weather event, and hence this topic presents a wonderful opportunity to say almost anything and never annoy the person or persons you are talking to. Which, when just getting to know people, is a very Good Thing."

"One could," ventured a class member, "talk of astronomy." (I recalled that one of the group was a physicist in her native country, but was now pushing a cash register at Costco.)

"One could," I replied, "but this can get a bit awkward if the person you are discussing parsecs with believes that the world is only 6000 years old, and that people were consorting with dinosaurs. Right away you would have made an enemy. For the time being, best to stick with the weather."

At this point the astronomer slipped into her native Italian, knowing I was fluent in what was my mother tongue. "Well," she said, "You are probably right. My professor at Turin once stated, I use her words, 'that it was never wise to provoke a person not ready to be provoked.' As a topic, then, the weather will be just fine."

I commended her professor, and concluded with my own astronomical observation:

"I exist!" the man cried to the Universe.

And the Universe replied, "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't feel any sense of obligation."

Enough. Or too much.

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* First Corinthians, 13:13. More recent readings of this verse have altered "charity" to "love", mis-translating "caritas". I suspect that the focus was shifted to being charitable to Holy Mother Church, not the other way round. -- L.S.S.

When A Martyr Is Not A Martyr

I was all set to inform my readers of the latest Ontario fiscal horror story just now seeing the light of day -- the 'Mars' thing, the building, not the planet -- when I received some fascinating information from a certain "back channel" that I still maintain from my days in The Trade. The Ontario issue can wait (it certainly won't go away) and besides, the incoming information was far more intriguing than the monetary mess Ontario continues to wallow in.

Now, back channels are interesting, and in certain cases essential. The term is useful to describe negotiations that are done on the quiet until more favourable conditions for success come about. Governments and banks use them all the time. More literally, they can be drainage patterns for rice paddies, or even water run-off measures for houses built on sea cliffs.

The back channel for my information I can't really speak about, other than to say I find the data that arrives from time to time to be sometimes useful, sometimes terrifying, or sometimes simply hilarious.*

What recently came in on this channel was an accounting of a subversive technique that was proving to be more than a little effective. Apparently there was a certain area in Iraq that had seen a complete drop in suicide martyrs. Prior to this, it had been an area that was rife with such attacks. How had this occurred?

Long story short, a prestigious Islamic scholar had somehow become convinced that the jihad interpretation of martyrdom as written in the Qur'an was wrong. He (it sure wouldn't have been a she) got in touch with the powers united against ISIS and Al-Qaeda and offered to make this scholarly opinion more well-known.

His argument was simplicity itself, and centered around the difference in Arabic between the passive and active voice. To wit: a martyr must die by being acted upon, and never, ever meet death by his own actions (or her own actions -- in such cases, Islam makes an exception and becomes an equal opportunity employer). 

Then the scholar added a final touch: martyrdom must first occur by the leader submitting to his fate, never an underling. Showing the way to the 72 virgins, as it were. 

When this was all made known to the jihadists by a variety of means, both electronic, written and by word of mouth, there was suddenly a dearth of martyrs, and the number of farmers, labourers and shepherds in the area mysteriously increased. Score one for the greatest weapon of war known -- the effective use of imagination.

See you soon.

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*It is not commonly known, but the back channel I use was convinced that North Korea's Kim Jong Un is entranced by the Disney Princesses. Explains a lot. -- L.S.S.

Something For Nothing

Occasionally, when writing these little missives, I have fallen into a trap that is is known as "writer's block." Topic in mind, I prepare to do verbal battle, and nothing comes. A sad state of affairs, and one begins to doubt one's capacity. So Piet Hein's 'Grook' : "If the sun or moon would doubt / They'd immediately go out."

Not good at all. At that point, however, I recalled a teacher friend of mine, one Elizabeth Henderson, who had given a homework  assignment to her class involving oral composition, indicating that the topic could be anything chosen by each class member. One lad, more troublesome than most, said he could think of nothing to speak about.

"Fine, Brett, then that's what you talk about. Nothing."

The class filed out, and my friend was almost automatically assigning a big fat zero to the aforesaid Brett.

Three days later, the class filed back in. Some talks were good, some fair, some not so good. But all had tried, and I knew from experience that oral composition could be trying for students until they figured out that they could talk for a time without being interrupted. Then Brett came to the front and began his speech.

"Nothing" he began, "can come from nothing. So King Lear tells his daughter Cordelia and thereby loses both his kingdom and his mind, as Miss Henderson has taught us. Then there is the concept of nothingness, or nihilism, very important in the area of philosophy. Also, 'no thing' would be no Parliament in Old Scandinavia* and then we have" -- well, he went on, naming all kind of nothings, and finished by looking carefully at the girls in the class as he referred to ears and "sweet nothings."

I gave Brett an A+ with no qualms whatsoever.

I remember asking my friend what happened to this unusual student. A university professor? A motivational speaker? What?

"He joined the army" she replied, "and has had a successful career. We still keep in touch from time to time." 

And now my writer's block has disappeared! In celebration, I conclude with a snippet gleaned from the Internet that has 'nothing' to do with the current topic. Apparently there was a small sexual escapade in a Toronto streetcar that caused a bit of a stir. Two men and a woman were involved in a little ménage a trois, and the thought occurred that somewhere Tennessee Williams was chuckling.

I also wondered if the woman's name was Stella. 

Just asking.

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* Brett has it right. In Old Scandinavia, the word for a parliamentary gathering actually is "The Thing". -- Ed.

Valuing Value

The physicist Rupert Sheldrake wrote somewhere that "the universe has habits, not laws." Be that as it may, one habit that I and some others have come to like is to gather on every other Thursday at our favourite pub, The Three Q's.* There we discuss things of varying interest ranging from bothersome personal issues to solving, with grace and dispatch, problems besetting the world.

Yesterday, that discussion involved examining the concept of 'value' and the role values play in personal life. The discussion went on for some time, a great many bromides were tossed about, all of which I summed up by stating "Been there. Knew that. Let's move on."

So we did, and then the economist in the group threw into the ring that she knew of something whose value could be discussed in terms of pennies, but also be worth considerably more if regarded in a different light. Guesses were asked for, with the winner to be exempt from paying for the next round of best bitter.

I proffered the written, mailed letter, comforting one who had sustained a loss of one kind or another. Costing very little, yet of much more value to the recipient than the original outlay.

Other suggestions followed, with the best (in my opinion) from Joe, a local farmer that had charmed himself into our circle. He indicated that you would be far ahead from original value if you happened to have in your possession an original King Edward VII tuppence with a mis-spelled "Edwrd" said to be worth thousands.

"Close" said our economist, "but no cigar. You are in the right area, though."

"What do you mean?" said our resident philosopher. He was always rabbiting on about the meaning of things.

"Just this. Currency. Any five, ten or indeed any paper bill is, in one sense, only worth very little in terms of the paper used and its manufacture, but has a much higher value in terms of purchasing power. Agreed?"

"But," I said, "is not that value is determined by the economic output and fiscal intelligence of the country that issued it? Surely that's its true value?"

"Irrelevant in terms of the question posed," she countered. "The paper bill is the perfect example of a double edged value. But being the poser of the question, I recuse myself from the contest, and Joe's answer, the Edwrd tuppence, is the winner."

 Joe quietly smiled, but said no gloating words, causing me to remember the value Albert Einstein's words all too well: "The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has limits."

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* Just in case readers have forgotten, the three Q's are Quips, Quibbles and Quaffs. -- Ed.

Yin Now On A Par With Yang

My good friend Matilda Hatt was in town recently, and, knowing the speaker, we attended a lecture given last night. The presenter, Nora House, was a noted feminist, and while I avoid those with "causes" like the plague, Nora always made her points with deftness and humour.

As an example of the above, she had titled her address, "Three Wise Men -- Are You Serious?"

Nora began her remarks with a quote from the playwright and film director, David Mamet: "The perfect girlfriend: one who makes love until two in the morning, and then turns into a pizza." She went on to stress that she is a good friend of Mr. Mamet, and that she had ripped his comment well out of context -- the line had been used as a 'straw man' to set up a defense of women in films.*

Nora went on to state, however, that girls and women had been viewed as objects for pleasure for millennia, and in all too many parts of the world still were. She wisely avoided a rant at this point, indicating that women such as Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Aung San Suu Kyi, and, more recently, the girl viciously attacked by the Taliban, Malala Yousafzai, could do a far better job of making the case for fairer treatment than she could.

No, Nora went on to indicate that real progress was being made. In the past, all too many eighteenth and nineteenth century best-selling novels featured frightened girls rushing down dark corridors shouting "O transport!"** Their only hope lay in the actions of a saviour, always a man.

In the current age, there is none of this; the terror-stricken heroine has been replaced with an arrow launched from the bow of Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games, for those living somewhere in a cave in the Gobi desert) or a powerful spell launched from the wand of Hermione Granger. (Harry Potter -- see parentheses above.) Add into this mix such wildly popular heroines
such as Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Xena, Warrior Princess and the 'Yin' begins to become equal to the 'Yang'.

Nora went on with further examples , but I think the point is made: at least in certain areas of the worlds, women are no more regarded as chattel, as objects there to be servants to the almighty man, and the media reflect this. The concept just needs, in Nora's word, "extension".

As for the concept of feminism, Nora ended her address with some words from Rebecca West: "I myself have never been able to find out what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat."

Rimshot.

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*Mamet's words were allegedly inserted into a TV spot for a pizza delivery outfit. A lawsuit is pending. --Ed.

** Not all novels were so one-sided. Jane Austen's women act decisively (after a learning period) and Dorothea Brooke in George Eliot's brilliant Middlemarch towers over the male protagonists in the novel. But it should be noted that the writer's real name was not George Eliot, but Mary Anne Evans, the publishing world being as it was then. -- L.S.S.

Halloween 24 / 7

So Halloween arrives again, complete with all manner of imaginary beings -- witches, ghosts, and a stunning variety of monsters ranging from mythological figures, Marvel Comics superheroes, and even costumes based on political creatures -- step forward Rob Ford and Mike Duffy (or, as he is better known -- The Puffster). Thus tots and tweens abound during the early evening of October 31st, and various streets come alive with shouts of "Trick or Treat!"

Mind you, of late the tricks are somewhat rare, and the treats flow freely. After all, t'is Halloween, and it comes but once a year. 

Er......not exactly.

Something not unlike Halloween appears to be occurring every day, and emphasizes not treats but tricks, and vicious ones at that. Let me explain.

As stated, Halloween is a date upon which temporary belief occurs as one dresses up as various imaginary beings that trundle house to house seeking favours. The next day all returns to sanity, or at least a good facsimile of it, and the imaginary beings are returned to the costume stores or closets to re-appear in the following year. Or not -- the belief in such beings tends to alter over time. 

There is, however, one group who believes in Halloween, or at least has a strong belief in one imaginary being. This group stresses this tenet on a daily basis, along with a stone cold focus on the "trick" aspect rather than the "treat" aspect. The trick is the enforcement of a belief in a kind, all-merciful imaginary being, but if this belief is questioned, torture is commenced, after which your head comes off. Great little trick, that.

The imaginary being is, of course, Allah, and the group is the Islamic State. And any celebration of an occasion such as Halloween would be banned on pain of death. I mean, people might begin to connect certain dots.

Something to keep in mind as little tricksters and treaters appear on the doorstep.

The Ottawa Attack: Another Aspect

Al Pacino's line from his Godfather II film came to mind this week, after receiving a certain telephone call: "I thought I was out, but they keep pulling me back in."

So it goes -- one is never really "out" where The Trade is involved. All this resulted in my going to Ottawa, where my opinion was sought on the madness that had occurred involving one deranged fanatic and an attack upon Parliament. 

I could add but little to the analysis already done by some very bright Canadian minds. The attacker, one Michael Zehaf-Bibeau,
had killed a soldier, Cpl.Nathan Cirillo, on duty at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Shot him in the back, the true calling card of a "brave" rebel.

The shooter then jumped into a Toyota, drove to the Parliament buildings, entered, and caused a slew of MP's, including the Prime Minister, to barricade themselves in meeting and caucus rooms. A veritable fusillade of shots rang out, and shortly thereafter Zehaf-Bibeau was shot and killed by a quick thinking and quicker acting sergeant-at-Arms Kevin Vickers. *

These, then, are the bare details of what transpired.

In my suggestions to the investigating team, I avoided topics such as probing his religious beliefs, criminal background, and environmental influences. There are people far more adept at such analysis than yours truly.** No, I stuck with what I knew best -- the gun -- and argued for a small but knowledgeable task force to go after answering such questions as how did he obtain the weapon, and from whom?

It was, after all, a Winchester 30/30 lever action rifle, not the easiest weapon to obtain unless you have connections with the military or belong to a gun club where the background checks are severe and the gun never leaves the club.

Now Zehaf-Bibeau had an extensive criminal record in Canada, and could not have purchased the weapon legally. Moreover, the Winchester 30/30 is not a "street" gun. This leaves only a hunting venue of one sort or another, and I suggested that if such a force was given the go-ahead, this could be the starting point. The aim would be to identify the supplier of the gun and bring the person to justice. Or terminate with extreme prejudice -- it is not just our military being attacked, but our democracy itself.

Well, that's what I put on the table, anyway.

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* One reporter from something called the Homeless Review mentioned to me that she couldn't believe that a person in the Canadian Parliament had access to a gun. I replied, "Good Lord. lady, he is a Sergeant-at-Arms." Really, there are times I despair.
-- L.S.S.

**There are exceptions to those skilled in social analysis. I recall one incident where an agent had been severely injured in a brutal attack. She was screaming, there was blood everywhere, and as I rushed to her assistance, I overheard a woman, likely a psychologist or social worker, saying, Oh no. Oh dear. Someone out there needs me." Again, I despair. -- L.S.S.

Straying Beyond the Lines

One thing I can vividly recall about elementary school was the directive, in writing or any colouring activity, was TO STAY BETWEEN THE DEMARKED LINES. To not do so was to risk the wrath -- which was considerable -- of our grade four teacher, Miss Ratchett.*The world, or at least Ontario, has need today of such another, for there has occurred a grievous straying beyond the lines.

What prompted this behaviour was the behaviour of the Elementary Teachers' Federation of Ontario (ETFO), and its recent workshop on "white privilege". Sound and sane as all my readers are, I suspect that you were well aware of this activity, and were suitably disgusted at its outright racism and bigotry.

Moi aussi, but that is not the thrust of this particular missive.

No, what concerns me is that holding such workshops is an act that if not illegal, is certainly "conduct unbecoming" as the military might put it. Union workshops are fine when dealing with better ways to learn and to teach. They are not so fine when the curriculum  is being discussed, with the intent to bring it nearer to the Union's desire to find something or someone to blame.

In terms of curriculum alteration, that is the business of the Ministry of Education, with the Minister accountable as a publicly-elected official. Some school board trustees are wont to stray into this area, but their role is primarily to oversee the school board's budget and obtain value for money. And it certainly not the business of a teacher's union.

Two of my friends are elementary teachers, and as visible minorities, were outraged that blaming "whites" for all the ills of society was lousy history and way over the top. The fact that their union dues were put to this use just added flames to the fire. They have written the Minister of Education, urging that their Federation be decertified, or at least strongly reprimanded.

Much as I was long ago, when I strayed beyond the lines.

Who knows? Maybe pigs will fly, and they will succeed.

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** I wonder if Ken Kesey had such a person in mind when he wrote of a certain nurse in his fine novel One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest? Just asking. -- Ed.

Time and the Ballot Box

The Toronto electoral campaign for Mayor is now in its sixth month (or seventh -- one loses track of these things) and is simply WAY too long. Add in a gazillion debates involving (usually) three people and we have a recipe for a show that in terms of audience interest is considerably past its due date.

Why?

I believe the answer can be traced back to former Premier Mike Harris ramming amalgamation down Toronto's throat, even though Toronto citizens from the five former boroughs, via a referendum,  had soundly rejected the issue. Democracy in action, as it were.

To explore this idiocy further is beyond the scope of this week's topic, but one result is that the Premier, perhaps suffering a twinge of guilt over such an arbitrary act, allowed a greater electoral time span because of the larger campaign area.*

But a campaign of months, with seemingly endless debates? To me, overkill in spades.

Now in olden times (to use an olden phrase)** area and distance were major factors in getting out the vote, and hence the need for a greater time span for any campaign. With modern media all too pervasive, however, this argument weakens. The whole thing could be neatly compressed into a month, or even three weeks. The electorate, I'm sure, would be grateful, and would, I suspect, take a greater interest in the issues being discussed and debated.***

I am, however, mindful that I am trying to compress time, a very tricky thing with which to get involved. Just how tricky can be seen in the following quotation from Michel de Montaigne in his Essay on Time: "Time is a thing of movement, appearing like a shadow in the eternal flow and flux of matter, never remaining stable or permanent; to Time belongs the words before and after; has been and shall be, words that show at a glance that Time is evidently not a thing which IS. For it would be a great silliness and manifest falsehood to say that something IS which has not yet come into being or has already ceased to be."

Montaigne, magnificent as usual. As for the result of the upcoming election, time will tell.

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* Mike Harris never felt a twinge of guilt in his life. -- Ed.

** Middle English has a certain charm, does it not? -- Ed.

*** None of the above applies to the United States, which seems to run a perpetual election campaign and has since its foundation, with a short hiatus occurring owing to a wee tussle called the American Civil War. -- L.S.S.

Something Wrong in Hong Kong

Recently I was asked for an opinion on the mess currently engulfing Hong Kong. My answer was brutally simple.

The protests currently raging in Hong Kong should never have occurred. With respect to my previous missive, this is what happens when your Word is broken.

But let's back up a minute.

Leaving out a myriad of meetings, conferences and agreements that involved Britain and China over the last 100 years, the following are the "bare bones" of the situation.

In 1898, Britain asked China for and obtained a 99 year lease on Hong Kong, entitled The Extension of Hong Kong Territory, after which the Territory would revert to China. This is now termed the official "hand over".

In 1982 Chinese Premier Deng Xiao Ping agreed with British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher that a Basic Law, a kind of "mini-constitution"  would be drafted, with the participation of the Hong Kong people. This Basic Law would allow for the formation of a Legislative Council to act as the governing body of the city, while China took responsibility fort foreign affairs, national security and the army. Until the official "hand over" took place in 1997, China would have the right to be influential in selecting a Chief Executive of the Council.

Also, and I believe this to be crucial,, China went on record that Hong Kong's Chief Executive would, from 2017 onwards, be chosen by "universal suffrage."

Then, I suppose, someone high up in the Chinese hierarchy, happened to stumble upon Nicolo Machiavelli's book on advising rulers, The Prince, and read the following words: "He who becomes master of a city accustomed to freedom and does not destroy it, may be expected to be destroyed by it."

Well, that put paid to any idea of "universal suffrage". Shortly word reached the citizens of Hong Kong that the Chief Executive must be approved by an "Esteemed Committee" comprised of mostly pro-Beijing elites. And shortly after that, the citizens took to the streets saying that the Chinese had broken their Word and that they had been betrayed.

At the time of this writing, the situation remains a standoff, with the police holding firm on one side of the street, and the citizenry the other. The chances that this will all end in tears is very high.

One must, however, take heart. Machiavelli also wrote, "He who would keep a city accustomed to freedom will hold it more easily by the means of its own citizens than in any other way."

Let us hope the second quotation prevails.

In the beginning was the Word

In the King James version of the Bible (John 1:1) we read, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God." So it would appear that the Word is rather important to the good apostle, and hence to a good many Christians.

Now the term "God" I use as a placeholder for what we don't yet understand (lots). Where the use of "Word" is concerned, however, it is quite a different story. To me the term acts as a kind of fulcrum upon which my life moves, and is of crucial importance when making a commitment. This deserves some explanation.

If you say to a person, "Yes. I will do that. I give you my word" what are you really saying? Certainly the person to whom the comment is directed can take heart that you are fully committed to whatever action has been agreed upon. Too often, however, the agreed action fades in importance, and the commitment is reneged upon. Not a big deal, you say, or put in the sports vernacular, "No harm, no foul."

Readers, a great "foul" has occurred.

When you give your word, you are giving yourself, or put more directly, your 'Self". It is as if you have taken your Self in your hands as you would an amount of water. When your word, your Self, is broken, your hands open up and the water, your Self, disappears.

And may never be recovered again.

So keep your Word -- don't open those hands. Just look at any number of politicians who, when not playing to a jaded public, look as haggard and woe-begone as Keats' knight in La Belle Dame Sans Merci. This also applies to any number of marketers or those selling products that don't do as they are supposed to. "Take my Word on it, and you will be forever happy!" Not. In effect, their essence as human beings has greatly diminished, if not completely disappeared.

Of course, considering the gravity of giving your Word, it is something to be done very sparingly, and if you can avoid doing so without compromising your integrity, do so. I have only given my Word six times so far, and not once done it lightly, for I know the storm that follows all too well, to wit: "Oh, c'mon, of course you can! So you gave your Word. No Big Deal."

Yes, it is a Big Deal.

You have my Word on it.

A Scottish Reel

A little late with the weekly missive, but I wanted to await results on the Scottish referendum. Those results are now in, and I could not but recall a lyric from the song, Flower of Scotland, to wit:

"But we can still rise now
And be the nation again
That stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
Tae think again."

As it turned out, the "thinking again" part will have to be done by the "Yes" side of the poll -- the latest results were (rounded off) 55% to 45% favouring remaining in the United Kingdom. Proud Edward had morphed into proud David Cameron, Prime Minister off the U.K., who was far from being "sent homeward".

If the result had been different, an unholy mess would have come about along the lines of a very messy divorce settlement, and the 'who gets what and why' become a dominating, if not the sole, issue for both parties. Moreover, the PM's career would have taken a plunge that would have been very difficult from which to recover. David Cameron is not Bill Clinton. So, on his part, a huge sigh of relief.

There still, of course, remains the "sticky wicket" of certain promises made to Scotland by Cameron involving changes to taxes, spending and welfare programs. The "Yes" side of the referendum, led by the head of the Scottish Nationalist Party, Alex Salmond, will I am certain be relentless in following up on those commitments. In addition, these commitments did not escape the attention of Wales, Northern Ireland and, indeed, England itself. When one plays with fire, even if one escapes being immolated completely, one still can get badly burned. Cameron's weeks ahead will not be entirely pleasant.

Then there is a point made by my mentor, whom I refer to as The Red Queen.

She points out that in terms of the process itself Scotland (and possibly Spain)  should learn from Canada's experience with Québec and put in place in any future referendum a two-thirds majority outcome, rather than a fifty/fifty split. All such a split indicates that there are just as many for independence as are against it, a recipe for long-standing discontent.

She is a very wise woman.

So there we are, and as for my own reaction, I am pleased, and turn to Robert Frost's poem, Mending Wall for my justification. Put simply, "Something there is that doesn't love a wall."

The Calm Before The Storm

The time is out of joint -- next week promises, in the words of the late John Cameron Swayze,  "to be filled with those events that alter and illuminate our times."  Some examples:

On September 17th, Scotland will decide whether to go it alone, or not. An earlier Westphalian * attempt at becoming an independent nation state failed at Culloden in 1745;  we shall see what transpires in 2014. Certainly there are pros; certainly there are
cons; to explore these in detail would be beyond the scope of this missive. While William Wallace and Robert The Bruce are much in our minds, we shall hold off on such an exercise until the Scots have reached a decision.

Another Westphalian issue has to do with the nation state of Ukraine, whose Eastern borders have been invaded by rebels wishing a closer relationship with Russia. According to press reports, Vladimir Putin wonders who these rebels are, and where they acquired some very sophisticated weapons, including a ground to air missile platform capable of bringing down a Malaysian airliner. What the rebels had against Malaysia escapes me, although I note that the U.N. blames Israel for the whole mess. In any event, a somewhat shaky ceasefire is in force -- we shall await events.

Other pending events include the growing menace of the ebola virus, the growing menace of the Islamic State thugs, and the parlous state of Afghanistan. All are awaiting resolution of one kind or another.

Fed up with all this gloom and indecision, and following Monty Python's dictum in the Life of Brian, I looked for things "on the bright side of life" and conclude with two.

At the Toronto Film Festival, the British actress Keira Knightley was besieged by a vicious wind of gale proportions. This resulted not in having a bad "hair day" but a coif reduced to a total shambles. Ms Knightley handled it brilliantly, frantically pushing her unruly locks away from her face and shouting "Oh, the elements! The elements".

This instantly brought to mind Little Eva bravely crossing the ice floes in Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, and triumphing against all odds. Ms Knightley also triumphed, well armed with a finely-honed sense of humour.

The second bright spot was one of the most unusual things I have ever seen. Canada's austere Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, ACTUALLY GOT EXCITED ABOUT SOMETHING. There he was, deep in the Arctic, bubbling and chirping away happily about being present when one of the ships from the ill-fated Franklin expedition was discovered. A side of Stephen I had not seen before, and in my opinion the electorate need to see more of that side of him.

I mean, it's nice now and then to get in touch with your humanity.

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* The 1648 Peace of Westphalia, an outcome of the Thirty Years War, formulated the notion of a "nation state" that had sole jurisdiction of matters that were within the borders of that state. Vladimir Putin needs to brush up on his history. -- Ed.

Much Needed R. and R.

Of late, I have been guilty of having the world too much with me, what with a possible ebola epidemic, drone attacks, beheadings, buildings flying apart, to say nothing about those areas of the planet that have become so dangerous that one cannot even think of booking a decent time-share.

To restore some sort of sane perspective on things, I and several close friends repaired to our local pub, The Three Q's, for a much needed discussion on matters some distance from the grim condition of the world at the present moment.

All went well, particularly when we hit upon a silliness that proved to be both amusing and intellectually taxing. Well, somewhat taxing -- these things are relative. In short, we all tried our hand at matching a song to a condition prevalent in the world. A myriad of answers flowed, and I take this opportunity to share a few of the better ones.

1. Judy Collins'  Send in the Clowns. This we all thought appropriate to commemorate the success of Tea Party members in the U.S. House of Representatives.

2. Let's Go Fly A Kite. Mr. Banks and Mary Poppins comfort the Russian Space Agency on yet another failed space launch.

3. Webb Pierce's I'm In The Jailhouse Now. Mr. Pierce's salute to Bernie Madoff.

4. Bob Dylan's Blowin' In The Wind, an recognition of the weird air-blown stuff originating from Monsanto.

5. The state song of Kansas, Home On The Range, now acknowledged as a veritable anthem of Jenn-Air.

6. And for Canadians, Kermit the Frog's rendition of It's Not Easy Being Green, a tribute to Party Leader Elizabeth May.

So there we are, and we all agreed it had been fun, and hence determined to meet again, this time linking movies with worldly things. Our parting suggestion? Arnold Schwarzenegger's Total Recall, the true story of the Chrysler Neon.

Enough, Or too much.

Inquiring Into An Inquiry

Recently, I had the opportunity to enjoy some time with a very good friend of mine. We had dinner at The Manor; my chef, Henri, made an excellent Coquilles St Jacques, accompanied with -- but I begin to digress. Suffice it to say that dinner was a wonderful thing, as was the Chablis that accompanied it.

My friend, who I do not name for reasons that will soon become obvious, was a senior officer in the RCMP, and she used our get- together to do some necessary venting.

What irritated her was the strident call for an inquiry into the tragedy of the missing and murdered aboriginal women in Canada.

 Now a public Inquiry, while an expensive use of taxpayer dollars, can be a useful thing, particularly in getting at issues that were to this point hidden, and unearthing who precisely was responsible. The point is to remedy the situation so that it does not occur again, and mete out justice to the perpetrators.

NONE OF THIS APPLIES TO AN INQUIRY INTO THE FATE OF THESE ABORIGINAL WOMEN.

We know, for instance, all too well what the issues and perpetrators are are, and hence the call for an Inquiry falls, not into determining the facts, but into political theatre.* As to what we do know, here my RCMP friend provided the following information, all of which has been made public, and duly ignored by those pressing for an Inquiry.

As of  June, 2013, there are 6,420 missing persons on Canada, of whom 1455 are women. Of those, 164 are aboriginal. And out of those, 105 are missing in unknown or suspicious circumstances. Further, 88% of the murders of aboriginal women have been solved by police. -- almost identical to the 89% of murders of non-aboriginal women.

Moreover my RCMP informant indicated that of these aboriginal victims, 30% were murdered by their husbands, 23% by another family member, and 30% were murdered by an acquaintance. Only 8% were murdered by strangers.

It gets worse. Of the aboriginal family members and acquaintances who kill aboriginal women, 44% are drunk, compares to 15% of murderers of non-aboriginal women. Also, 74% of the murderers of aboriginal women are unemployed and 71% of the murderers of aboriginal women had a criminal record, 53% had been convicted before of a violent crime, and 62% had a history of violence with the murder victim herself.

If you are going to have an Inquiry, try focussing on those statistics. I for one, would look forward to hearing whatever response will come from a number of very well paid band chiefs.

I'm done with this.



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* Justin Trudeau may not know these statistics -- he tends to wander lonely as a cloud -- but Mulcair certainly does, and keeps silent. For shame. I am also appalled to see the Premiers being roped into an issue best addressed by the professional "carers" such as Neil Young, David Suzuki and (this just in) Leonardo DiCaprio.

A Vicious Little Sandwich

It may be apocryphal, but I believe it was Dr. William Osler who once said, "To hell with modern medicine. Half of the pills developed today should be thrown out the window, except it would be bad for the birds." Maybe so, but I got the right half, and my irritating bronchial cough is fast disappearing.

Which brings me to another statement, and the issue I want to address in this post. Dr. Norman Davies, in his magnificent historical account entitled Europe, writes the following: "The first recorded strike was organized by the weavers of Douai in 1245"* Professor Davies does not give the result, but this doesn't detract from the point I want to make -- unions have been with us for some time, and so has their right to strike.

I have no quarrel with that. A union wants better wages and living conditions, management balks, a strike ensues, and one of the parties concedes the position of the other. In most instances, there is compromise on both sides. The process is not called 'collective bargaining' for nothing.

And in earlier times, a strike was often the only weapon workers had to enable them to achieve a reasonable standard of life. A quick read of Orwell's Down The Mine, or a look at Galsworthy's play Strife will bring the point home brutally but effectively.

For most of its history, collective bargaining involved only two entities -- management and the union. Recently, however, a third party has entered the process, and here things go very wrong indeed. This is the 'vicious sandwich' referred to in the title.

The third element, the 'meat' in the sandwich if you will, is the public, and this aspect of the bargaining process only occurs where a public service union is concerned. The public is truly an innocent party in the process, caught between management (the government) and the union.

It is true that certain public services have been denied the right to strike, and use a binding arbitration process instead. Police officers, firefighters, and EMT personnel come to mind. This is done for reasons of public safety. 

What I am arguing for is a moral rationale that would bring an arbitration process for ALL public service unions. The public is not the reason for the strike, that would be government policy that is viewed by the union as strike worthy. But it is the public that suffers, and that in the final analysis is immoral.

This vicious sandwich becomes a moral horror story when a teachers' union decides to strike, thereby harming the students that they, acting in loco parentis as the Education Act puts it, have agreed to care for, nurture and teach.

The late and highly respected Dr R.W. Jackson, former head of the Ontario Institute of Education, would be appalled. After all, it was he who once wrote, "Never lose sight of the fact that the child as learner is not only the centre of the education system, but the very reason for its existence."**

The child.

Not a teachers' union.

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* N. Davies, Europe, O.U.P. (Oxford,1996) p. 370

** Ontario Ministry of Education, Issues and Directions, June, 1980, p. 1

A Wee Lacuna

As Lady Simone's editor, I regret to inform readers that there will be no post this week. She unfortunately fell into the clutches of a minor bronchial cough, and wanted to rest to stop it turning into something more major.

This was a pity, for I noticed the following scribble on her notepad, that might have been the subject to be explored in the post. It was short, but to the point: 'Sheep cloned in a laboratory. The answer to Blake's question, "Little lamb, who made thee?"'

Well, maybe next week.

-- The Editor.

A (Somewhat) Brighter Future For Television

"Television? No good will come of it. The word is half Greek and half Latin."

So wrote C.P. Snow, former editor of the Manchester Guardian. He has a point, given the nonsense that tends to be put out over the airways these days. What with reality shows, endless clusters of celebrities discussing issues with an ignorance that often astonishes, or news broadcasts that tend to sum up all that one needs to know concerning a knotty geopolitical issue in about ten seconds -- perhaps Snow had it right.

Or perhaps not.

I should like to put forward that things are not necessarily as bleak as they appear. The Public Broadcast system continues to soldier on, with its fine documentaries, excellent concerts, and that favourite of many -- The Antique Road Show.*

Moreover, in terms of broadcast television, live sports broadcasts can often be exciting to watch. To be sure, the days that advertisers would underwrite and support a show such as All In The Family are long gone. Some "Interest Group" would be offended by the antics of Archie Bunker, scream to the high heavens, and at that point the advertisers would beat a hasty retreat and cancel the show. Just ask comedian Bill Maher -- he knows all about that sort of behaviour.

Yet certain players in the television world, combining with technological invention, discovered a way around the stifling atmosphere that was choking any ounce of dramatic (and yes, sexual) creativity to death.

Enter, stage right, cable and pay for view, along with the glories of HBO with its Boardwalk Empire, Deadwood and the magnificent Game of Thrones. Advertisers, terrified that someone would be upset (bet on it) would flee these shows in a heartbeat. Yet even they, watching, must be filled with remorse as they realize just how many eyeballs they have forsaken.

Now I well realize that I have barely scraped the surface of this topic. Where, you might well ask, are my comments on such popular TV offerings as Downton Abbey, The Big Bang Theory, or Grey's Anatomy. A fair question, but I believe I have gone far enough to rest my case. Television, once thought dead, has arisen rather effectively.

That, is, as well, the theme behind HBO's True Blood, a coincidence that sums things up rather nicely.

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* The Roadshow can be a delight. Not only does it showcase the average person's interest in the past, it also allows a forum for those who actually know what they are talking about, always a Good Thing.

Martyrs Misapplied

Today's news, particularly from the Middle East, is filled with the brave actions of martyrs belonging to Al-Qaeda, ISIS, Hamas, Hezbollah, or a myriad of sub-sects connected in some way with the Muslim religion.

This denoting of such personnel as "martyrs" is rubbish.

It would be akin to celebrating the soldiers landing in Normandy on D-Day, or those who died at Ypres, as martyrs. Brave, yes. Patriotic, yes. Afraid, yes. Skilled, yes. But martyrs they were not.

My reasoning here begins with a definition, in this case from Merriam Webster's Free Dictionary: A martyr is "A person who voluntarily suffers death as the penalty of witnessing and refusing to renounce a religion."

Some examples come to mind. Various saints of the Catholic Church, such as Peter or Andrew would qualify, as would Thomas a Becket, Thomas More, or (although a number of Papal hurdles had to be crossed that took some time) Joan of Arc. And not to be forgotten are the deaths in Canada of Fathers Lalement and Brebeuf.

Indeed, the Catholic Church can be said to have originated the word "martyr." Yet in no case did such martyrs launch themselves into such a state. They endured passively; it was their persecutors that acted.

This point is key. There can certainly be Muslim martyrs, but not if you are wearing a suicide vest with an aim to create as much carnage as possible. That is not passivity, that is acting to purposefully harm; that is not martyrdom, it is murder.

And if you look carefully at my list of Catholic martyrs, all were adults, well aware of what they were doing, and why. The children that are often used as Muslim "martyrs" have barely lived, and are totally under the control of an Imam or Mullah who "is commanded by Allah."  And such Imams or Mullahs tend not to be near any incident that might suddenly turn explosive. I mean, they might be at risk. Can't have that.

Ghastly people. I suspect Dante, were he alive and writing The Inferno, would fire them all into the Ninth Circle. Couldn't happen soon enough.

Being Careful With Time

It was, I believe, Napoleon Bonaparte who once stated, "One always has a chance of recovering lost ground, but lost time --  never." It is for this reason that I, at some cost, employ a person skilled in the art and science of information technology.

Some have questioned the not inconsiderable expense of such an approach, but I stand firm. My reasons are as follows.

When I wish to write something electronically, and to communicate whatever was written to another, that is time well spent. Mind you, the written piece should be worth reading, but as a devoted reader of this weekly report, I'm sure there are no qualms in that regard. What would not be time well spent is thrashing about trying to get ta faulty communication device -- computer, laptop, or whatever -- to work effectively.

Too often I have seen others grappling with such an issue, and wasting a goodly amount of time being frustrated as this or that attempt fails. Worse, when dealing with that modern avatar of Satan, the Indian Help Desk located somewhere in Uttar Pradesh, the whole already too lengthy process can now, if allowed, extend to infinity.

Not a good use of time. Not at all. I want my time to serve my priorities, priorities which are some distance away from technical arcana.

Such time-wasting is not a mistake we make when we write a letter. When the mail sometimes goes amiss, a phone call to the post office will quickly clear up the situation. Could be a statuary holiday, or the union happily exercising its abundance of sick days,* or whatever. But rarely does such a conversation go beyond five minutes, if that.

Compare that use of time to your latest rumble in the jungle of technology, an area where it doesn't do to bungle. And there, methinks, lies the crux of the problem. Technology, and the newness of it all.

Therefore, my answer is to fight fire with fire, and employ a technical expert who can hold his (actually, her) ground with the best that Dell, Microsoft, IBM and others have to offer in the field of complicated technical advice. And I must add that my expert enjoys grappling with all the new advances that seem to occur daily.

After all, it was not that long ago that people thought semiconductors were part-time orchestra leaders and microchips were very, very small snack foods.

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* Now, now -- a titch of bias showing there. -- Ed.