Fitness Test.

FlexedArmHangDiplomacy

NotParticipactionVille


From Evan Scrimshaw's latest:

... (Last) Wednesday Pierre Poilievre claimed in the House of Commons that the car that crashed and exploded in Buffalo, right by the border, was a terrorist attack, based on Fox News reporting...


Now.

I realize that the FedLibs have pushed this bit of outrage catnip in an effort to drive up the good Mr. Poilievre's political negatives.

But, leaving all that aside for the moment...

Given how often Fox News is demonstrably wrong in its ideology-driven 'reportage', I would argue vehemently that any politician who makes decisions based on what Fox has to say is not fit to be Prime Minister.

...Or Opposition Leader.

...Or, even, Director of Snow Removal.

I mean, just imagine if something really significant were to happen that a government, be it federal or municipal, needs to respond to calmly and rationally based on the best information available and, instead, that same government acts on the basis of what the screamers have to say.

Is that not a recipe for real disaster?

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Day 82...Road Hockey Sky.

OfSuperBladesAndBleachBottle
MasksVille

My favourite bit of Kerouackian bop-prosody is 'October In The Railroad Earth' written in 1952, a year after he finished the typewriter roll that would be sheared back into mainstreamish narrativity by a bushel of editors between then and 1957 when 'On The Road' was finally published.

Anyway.

'October' starts with Kerouac describing 'red brick drowsy afternoons'.

And, for me at least, that phrase does not evoke Ti Jean's alley at the corner of 3rd and Townsend in almost downtown San Fransisco.

Instead, it brings to mind endless road hockey games of youth played on cold, clear, runny-nosed  autumn afternoons where the boards were the red brick walls of an almost Victorian-aged elementary school in real, actual Victoria.

And the skies on those days?

They were high with rays of slanting orange and pink swaddled in the pungent smoke of leaves burnt everywhere, always.

Of course, for good reason, those leaves are burnt no more.

But the road hockey skies are still there, fifty-plus years later, right outside my drowsy workday late afternoon window.

Imagine that!

_____

Only 12 days of hellterm left to go...But who's counting.

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Day 68...Birds In The Bath.

 

Taking a wee break from HellTerm2023 to visit my Dad over on the Republic of Vancouver Island.

Woke up to see finches and robins taking a bath in the pond that formed overnight in the driveway.

Dad wonders why we don't call it Armistice Day anymore.

Going out to get littler e. from the ferry now...

Peace.

And.

Poppies.

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