"You know your party's in trouble when you read this: A: The rape guy lost. B: Which one?"
~ Alec Baldwin
And thus ends another election cycle in the United States, and with it a plethora of lessons to take to heart. To start off the list is Todd Akin, the now former Republican candidate for Missouri's 2nd Congressional District, and his lessons regarding the anatomical defenses of women to guard against becoming pregnant as a result of rape. Needless to say, the fiery death of this lesson, and Akin's political career as a result, was bright enough to see from orbit.
Next is Richard Mourdock, the defeated Republican senate candidate for Indiana, who many would say led himself to the gallows when he stated that a pregnancy that resulted from rape was 'a gift from God.' I will submit that I have known two women who became pregnant as the result of a rape, and carried their pregnancies to the full term, and none who chose an abortion. This fact can easily be skewered by the fact both girls were in their early teens, and their families forbid them to have an abortion, despite the girls' pleas to the contrary. Now, I may be only a simple male, and relatively unable to fully understand the mental trauma of rape, but situations like this don't seem to ring of divine providence.
The list goes on, across a wide range of topics, from lunar bases to 'job creators,' but I think the point can be made simply from looking at the psychology behind these two ideas, and the psychology of the party itself.
Many years ago, many more than I care to count, I first learned about the animals used to symbolize the Democrats and Republicans. One was symbolized by the elephant, a strong but nurturing animal, aged and wise. The other was an ass. I thought these two were a very fitting representation of the two American parties - until I realized I had it backwards. The Republicans have disjointed themselves so much from the mood of the United States as a whole so much that to my eyes, they can't help but look like a bunch of braying donkeys.
The problem the Republicans face is one of fundamental values. Even in generally hardened Republican strongholds, previous attempts at so-called 'personhood amendments' to write into law that life begins at conception (effectively equating abortions to homicide) failed miserably, and yet they still had several people running for office that blasted the airwaves with promises they would allow for no abortions in cases of rape, incest, or the health and survival of the mother. It was surprising to me, a vociferous defendant of a woman's right to elect for abortion, that so many people would thus choose to vote for a party whose presumptive leader, Willard 'Mitt' Romney (yes, Willard is his given name) sided with this policy more times than he denounced it. And with this, we come to the heart of the matter.
Mitt Romney raced back and forth so often between mutually exclusive points of view that it's a small wonder he made it past the primaries early this year. (Speaking of which: Yeti, I think I still owe you that $20 from betting Rick Perry would be the Republican candidate.) In his defense, he really had no choice, if choice it was at all. At the same time he had to appear acceptable to those Democrats that may be receptive to a different direction from Barack Obama and, as Kelsey Grammer said on an episode of 'The Simpsons,' '...a cold-hearted Republican to lower taxes, brutalize criminals, and rule you like a king.' And the direct result of this was him tripping over his own feet time and time again, giving the Democrats more ammunition than they could use.
So the question becomes how the Republicans will act in the future. They spent the last two years, at least, since Mitch McConnell's notorious 'one-term President' remarks, obstructing everything that could breathe new life into the American economy. Will this become the norm for how they conduct themselves going forward? Worse yet is the question that prompts me to write this diatribe: do they have a choice? The Republicans have effectively, and for far more reasons than I've listed here, labelled themselves as a fanatical group of right-wing zealots. In this election cycle, it's become more and more apparent that this is the behaviour their base expects of them. Birtherism still rears its ugly head from time to time, and their demagoguery of 'socialist policies' that we Canadians treasure above all else, our health care system chief among them, continues a rampant charge. The Republicans in the end have no choice but to follow the policies demanded upon by those that elect them.
In the end, I can't help but consider the Republicans going forward to be a group of lemmings, walking across a tightrope stretched over the Grand Canyon, with a pack of wolves waiting on the other side. They can follow their instincts, trying to appease 50.1% of the voting population in their own radical way, and run the risk of falling off the rope. Or, they can fight their instinct, break conformity, and run on policies that will in many cases run contrary to political doctrine in their party, only to be torn to shreds by the wolves in their own party.
I will grant that some of them will make it over the rope and past the fangs - it's a near inevitability. What worries me is that one day, one of the more fanatical, and potentially psychotic ones, may manage to run the gauntlet and move into 1600 Pennsylvania. One of them nearly made it four years ago, and only needed a 72-year-old cancer survivor to win the election, and have his heart conk out to reach the pinnacle of power. Now, as a Canadian, I find myself asking if that is the kind of person I want guarding the world's largest nuclear stockpile?
May God grant me the opportunity to move to New Zealand.
08 November 2012
15 September 2012
The Work-A-Day World: The Return of the Copper Anaconda
Some of you, however few you may be, have heard the recent events of the last week. For those who don't know what's been going on in the North, give me a moment to explain. First off, I finally got a solid, gold-plated line on a job, back in the electrical field. No, not at that godforsaken pellet plant - if that place ever gets off the ground, I'm no longer sure I'll be heading back there. (Sorry, Boss, but an industrial start-up just seems too unpredictable to earn a ticket in.)
No, the job's not back in Atikokan. In fact, it's not so much in one place as potentially in several places across Northern Ontario. To put it bluntly, I'm now signed on with the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, Local 402. Yes, I'm on my way to being a union boy.
But, as it always must be, some things from the past must always rear their ugly heads, threatening to put a damper on a good day's work. And so it was today I found myself faced with a true monster: nearly 80 metres of 750 kcmil high-voltage TECK 90 tri-phase conductor. At nearly nine kilograms per metre, it is by far the single largest power cable I've yet to handle. And it took 14 guys (of which myself and Tesla were the lightweights) to dead-lift it onto a cable tray - which it summarily began to destroy. Oops.
Anyway, after eight solid hours of effort, we managed to put this beast to bed in four pieces, twin runs of 23 and 15 metres. Of course, it's never so easy as just that. Yes, there were complications beyond the cable tray. (Anyone that knows me knows it's never one thing that goes wrong around me.) TECK 90 requires a specific type of connector to attach it to whatever switch gear, motor control console and/or junction box it's meant to power. And the ones we had, valued at $400 each, were the wrong size. Specifically, they were too small.
So, while the majority of us were dealing with the last cable, a small group grabbed the connectors, along with power drills and some type of metal grinding bits I've never encountered before, and started doing what they could to widen the openings on the connectors. Can you guess what group I wound up in? (If you say the metal grinding group, call me - I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.)
After the day's labour, me and Tesla decided to hit KFC before ordering a full retreat to my place in Thunder Bay. While he spent half the time bitching about house insurance and property tax in Barrie and avoiding mentioning what I think is the root of the problem (Barbatos) I sat there in bliss at the thought of the day. Only part of my thoughts were about me being back to work.
The other part? As I understand it, under the rules of the union, work on a weekend is double rate.
No, the job's not back in Atikokan. In fact, it's not so much in one place as potentially in several places across Northern Ontario. To put it bluntly, I'm now signed on with the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, Local 402. Yes, I'm on my way to being a union boy.
But, as it always must be, some things from the past must always rear their ugly heads, threatening to put a damper on a good day's work. And so it was today I found myself faced with a true monster: nearly 80 metres of 750 kcmil high-voltage TECK 90 tri-phase conductor. At nearly nine kilograms per metre, it is by far the single largest power cable I've yet to handle. And it took 14 guys (of which myself and Tesla were the lightweights) to dead-lift it onto a cable tray - which it summarily began to destroy. Oops.
Anyway, after eight solid hours of effort, we managed to put this beast to bed in four pieces, twin runs of 23 and 15 metres. Of course, it's never so easy as just that. Yes, there were complications beyond the cable tray. (Anyone that knows me knows it's never one thing that goes wrong around me.) TECK 90 requires a specific type of connector to attach it to whatever switch gear, motor control console and/or junction box it's meant to power. And the ones we had, valued at $400 each, were the wrong size. Specifically, they were too small.
So, while the majority of us were dealing with the last cable, a small group grabbed the connectors, along with power drills and some type of metal grinding bits I've never encountered before, and started doing what they could to widen the openings on the connectors. Can you guess what group I wound up in? (If you say the metal grinding group, call me - I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.)
After the day's labour, me and Tesla decided to hit KFC before ordering a full retreat to my place in Thunder Bay. While he spent half the time bitching about house insurance and property tax in Barrie and avoiding mentioning what I think is the root of the problem (Barbatos) I sat there in bliss at the thought of the day. Only part of my thoughts were about me being back to work.
The other part? As I understand it, under the rules of the union, work on a weekend is double rate.
13 August 2012
The Lost Eruption
"...at last the mountain Kapi with a tremendous roar burst into pieces and sank into the deepest of the earth. The water of the sea rose and inundated the land... The water subsided but the land on which Kapi stood became sea, and Java and Sumatra were divided into two parts."
~ Javanese Book of Kings
Historical records can paint a terrifying image, but those of legend can be all the more frightening. But there are instances where the line between myth and fact can become slightly distorted. Take as an example the Native American mythology of the Thunderbird.
"At the time of the Great Flood, Thunderbird fought a long, long battle with Killer Whale. He would catch Killer Whale in his claws and start with him to the cave in the mountains. Killer Whale would escape and return to the water. Thunderbird would catch him again, all the time flashing lightning from his eyes and flapping his wings to create thunder. Mountains were shaken by the noise, and trees were uprooted in their struggle. Again and again Killer Whale escaped."
Under normal circumstances, this would seem to match up in fashion with other flood mythologies from around the world. Except that geological records have shown a correlation between this mythology and a Japanese record from 26 January 1700 showing a tsunami hitting the islands, but with no corresponding earthquake. The earthquake, estimated at 9.0 on the Richter Scale, had in fact been generated across the Pacific Ocean, in the Cascadia Subduction Zone.
While many would never call into question that this event occurred, it would hardly convince skeptics that the Book of Kings could be correct in its assertions. The book tells that the two islands had once been a single mass, split in half by the explosion of a single mountain, around 416 AD. While there is no evidence yet located of such an eruption, an eruption large enough to tear a gaping hole in the island, creating what is now the Sunda Strait should have left some mark behind.
Though nothing is shown from 416, there is a slight curiosity in both Antarctic and Greenlnd ice cores around 535 AD: a large spike in sulfur dioxide content, far larger than any other in recorded history. Such a spike could only be generated from a volcanic eruption, and one of such magnitude, it would cause far-reaching, perhaps global, consequences.
And the records exist, showing a severe series of meteorological events at the same time. In 536, the Byzantine historian Procopous recorded that "during this year a most dread portent took place. For the sun gave forth its light without brightness." Other events have been catalogued worldwide, including crop failures from Ireland to Sweden, snow in August in China, and a severe drought which led to the collapse of the Moche natives in Peru.
While there is no conclusive geological evidence showing where this eruption could have been, there is that passage from the Book of Kings, and its inference to the Sunda Strait. What is does not mention specifically is the monster that resides there to this day.
On 27 August 1883, the volcanic island Krakatau erupted with such a force, the explosion was heard over 3,000 kilometres away in Perth, Australia. Tsunamis and pyroclastic surges slammed nearby shorelines, killing 36,417 people. Devastated by its own destructive force, fully two thirds of the volcano collapsed in on itself, forming a caldera. From such a ferocity, people could easily believe the volcano would never return. But as we all know, history often repeats itself.
In 1927, the Sunda Strait were disturbed once again with a new power rising. Anak Krakatau now rises over a thousand feet above the strait, with no signs of slowing down. But if this new volcano had risen from the ashes of its father, could Krakatau in turn have risen from the grave of something even larger?
The rating scale for volcanic eruptions, the Volcanic Explosivity Index, reserves the top rating of 8 for volcanoes which throw out more than 1,000 km³ of material. It is this class alone which stands uncontested for its capacity to change global weather. The Toba eruption, 74,000 years ago, has been accused of changing the climate so radically, all but two thousand members of the early species of man were wiped out.
47 eruptions of such magnitude are known to have happened, from the Pacana Caldera of Chile, to the famous Yellowstone eruption 640,000 years ago. But through all this, I find myself asking an ominous question: did we have one slip past right under our noses?
UPDATE: 23 August 2012, 13:57
A recent e-mail from a representative of the United States Geological Survey has confirmed privately that there is "substantial, yet still circumstantial evidence" for a VEI 7/8 eruption of Krakatau in 535 AD.
~ Javanese Book of Kings
Historical records can paint a terrifying image, but those of legend can be all the more frightening. But there are instances where the line between myth and fact can become slightly distorted. Take as an example the Native American mythology of the Thunderbird.
"At the time of the Great Flood, Thunderbird fought a long, long battle with Killer Whale. He would catch Killer Whale in his claws and start with him to the cave in the mountains. Killer Whale would escape and return to the water. Thunderbird would catch him again, all the time flashing lightning from his eyes and flapping his wings to create thunder. Mountains were shaken by the noise, and trees were uprooted in their struggle. Again and again Killer Whale escaped."
Under normal circumstances, this would seem to match up in fashion with other flood mythologies from around the world. Except that geological records have shown a correlation between this mythology and a Japanese record from 26 January 1700 showing a tsunami hitting the islands, but with no corresponding earthquake. The earthquake, estimated at 9.0 on the Richter Scale, had in fact been generated across the Pacific Ocean, in the Cascadia Subduction Zone.
While many would never call into question that this event occurred, it would hardly convince skeptics that the Book of Kings could be correct in its assertions. The book tells that the two islands had once been a single mass, split in half by the explosion of a single mountain, around 416 AD. While there is no evidence yet located of such an eruption, an eruption large enough to tear a gaping hole in the island, creating what is now the Sunda Strait should have left some mark behind.
Though nothing is shown from 416, there is a slight curiosity in both Antarctic and Greenlnd ice cores around 535 AD: a large spike in sulfur dioxide content, far larger than any other in recorded history. Such a spike could only be generated from a volcanic eruption, and one of such magnitude, it would cause far-reaching, perhaps global, consequences.
And the records exist, showing a severe series of meteorological events at the same time. In 536, the Byzantine historian Procopous recorded that "during this year a most dread portent took place. For the sun gave forth its light without brightness." Other events have been catalogued worldwide, including crop failures from Ireland to Sweden, snow in August in China, and a severe drought which led to the collapse of the Moche natives in Peru.
While there is no conclusive geological evidence showing where this eruption could have been, there is that passage from the Book of Kings, and its inference to the Sunda Strait. What is does not mention specifically is the monster that resides there to this day.
On 27 August 1883, the volcanic island Krakatau erupted with such a force, the explosion was heard over 3,000 kilometres away in Perth, Australia. Tsunamis and pyroclastic surges slammed nearby shorelines, killing 36,417 people. Devastated by its own destructive force, fully two thirds of the volcano collapsed in on itself, forming a caldera. From such a ferocity, people could easily believe the volcano would never return. But as we all know, history often repeats itself.
In 1927, the Sunda Strait were disturbed once again with a new power rising. Anak Krakatau now rises over a thousand feet above the strait, with no signs of slowing down. But if this new volcano had risen from the ashes of its father, could Krakatau in turn have risen from the grave of something even larger?
The rating scale for volcanic eruptions, the Volcanic Explosivity Index, reserves the top rating of 8 for volcanoes which throw out more than 1,000 km³ of material. It is this class alone which stands uncontested for its capacity to change global weather. The Toba eruption, 74,000 years ago, has been accused of changing the climate so radically, all but two thousand members of the early species of man were wiped out.
47 eruptions of such magnitude are known to have happened, from the Pacana Caldera of Chile, to the famous Yellowstone eruption 640,000 years ago. But through all this, I find myself asking an ominous question: did we have one slip past right under our noses?
UPDATE: 23 August 2012, 13:57
A recent e-mail from a representative of the United States Geological Survey has confirmed privately that there is "substantial, yet still circumstantial evidence" for a VEI 7/8 eruption of Krakatau in 535 AD.
02 December 2011
Harper's Lemon
As many will most likely know by now, I have long been wary of Prime Minister Harper's planned $16B dollar purchase of the latest and greatest of American military hardware, the F-35 Lightning. Okay, I will grant that this fifth generation fighter's appearance in 'Live Free or Die Hard' had me drooling. But there's some problems that need to be looked at.
First off is the purchase agreement. Harper decided to buy 65 F-35s to replace Canada's aging fleet of CF-18 Hornets. As versatile as those jets are, many of them are old enough to have voted for Harper when he first took office in 2006. So yes, inevitably, replacements must be found, lest our next use of them overseas sees them all drop like flies into the Atlantic. But the problem that exists is that even the F-35's developer, Lockheed Martin, has stated previously that they're not entirely sure how much the F-35 will cost in the end. This can be evidenced by the price of the purchase agreement per plane changing every two months.
The second problem is the process by which the CF-18's successor was chosen. The problem is simply this: there wasn't a process. The federal government approached only one country, and asked about only one plane. (I guess Harper's a Bruce Willis fan, too.) There are many countries we could've approached regarding updating and modernizing our air force. We could have decided to see how good China's Chengdu J-20 is. We might have contacted the Russian Federation to take a look at the Sukhoi Su-35. Of course, we could have put our own noses to the grindstones to make a plane suited just for us - we've done it before, after all. (I will note here that we could have also chosen the F-22 Raptor as the successor, but apparently it has a lot of problems of its own.)
But more than anything, more than any other problem, is Number Three: the F-35 itself. Reports from Rand Corporation (a research firm based in Santa Monica, California) that were drawn up for the Royal Australian Air Force have said that the F-35 is destined to be an inferior match to any planes constructed by Russia or China in the last ten years. To put it bluntly, the report says the F-35 "can't turn, can't climb, and can't run."
The problems with the plane continue beyond that point, I'm afraid. Included in all this are production and testing delays with the current design. (Please note, this doesn't mean they saw how badly it would perform and are taking it back to the drawing board.) It's to the point where the United States Marine Corps has chosen to extend current use of their own fleet of F-18 fighters to make up for the expected delayed receipt of the F-35, and Boeing has chosen to dust off the blueprints and schematics of the F-18 for a production run of up to 460 additional jets.
Now, I will say, we don't fight many wars over all. In fact, aside from the recent deployment to Libya for our jets, the most noteworthy uses of the CF-18 include flying combat patrols over the 2010 Winter Olympics, and their deployment during "Operation: Grizzly" for the 28th G8 Summit in Kananaskis, Alaska. For such 'hazardous' deployments, it's doubtful a major upgrade is required for our air force's needs.
At the very least, Harper could buy some new Hornets from Boeing - it'd be about half the cost.
First off is the purchase agreement. Harper decided to buy 65 F-35s to replace Canada's aging fleet of CF-18 Hornets. As versatile as those jets are, many of them are old enough to have voted for Harper when he first took office in 2006. So yes, inevitably, replacements must be found, lest our next use of them overseas sees them all drop like flies into the Atlantic. But the problem that exists is that even the F-35's developer, Lockheed Martin, has stated previously that they're not entirely sure how much the F-35 will cost in the end. This can be evidenced by the price of the purchase agreement per plane changing every two months.
The second problem is the process by which the CF-18's successor was chosen. The problem is simply this: there wasn't a process. The federal government approached only one country, and asked about only one plane. (I guess Harper's a Bruce Willis fan, too.) There are many countries we could've approached regarding updating and modernizing our air force. We could have decided to see how good China's Chengdu J-20 is. We might have contacted the Russian Federation to take a look at the Sukhoi Su-35. Of course, we could have put our own noses to the grindstones to make a plane suited just for us - we've done it before, after all. (I will note here that we could have also chosen the F-22 Raptor as the successor, but apparently it has a lot of problems of its own.)
But more than anything, more than any other problem, is Number Three: the F-35 itself. Reports from Rand Corporation (a research firm based in Santa Monica, California) that were drawn up for the Royal Australian Air Force have said that the F-35 is destined to be an inferior match to any planes constructed by Russia or China in the last ten years. To put it bluntly, the report says the F-35 "can't turn, can't climb, and can't run."
The problems with the plane continue beyond that point, I'm afraid. Included in all this are production and testing delays with the current design. (Please note, this doesn't mean they saw how badly it would perform and are taking it back to the drawing board.) It's to the point where the United States Marine Corps has chosen to extend current use of their own fleet of F-18 fighters to make up for the expected delayed receipt of the F-35, and Boeing has chosen to dust off the blueprints and schematics of the F-18 for a production run of up to 460 additional jets.
Now, I will say, we don't fight many wars over all. In fact, aside from the recent deployment to Libya for our jets, the most noteworthy uses of the CF-18 include flying combat patrols over the 2010 Winter Olympics, and their deployment during "Operation: Grizzly" for the 28th G8 Summit in Kananaskis, Alaska. For such 'hazardous' deployments, it's doubtful a major upgrade is required for our air force's needs.
At the very least, Harper could buy some new Hornets from Boeing - it'd be about half the cost.
07 September 2010
Books and Bodies
"Where they begin burning books, they will end with burning bodies."
~ Heinrich Hilne, 1821
I do realize it's been a long time since I did any form of commentaries in here, but every now and then, there is something which infects my view of the world, and forces me to speak my mind.
To start, let's get a few things very clear. To begin, Islamic extremism does exist in the world. Depsite my personal opinions regarding the events of the past ten years, it is not something I would attempt to deny, as the proof is overwhelming. Even dating back as far as the Crusades - no, it's not a new concept to the world. It's just been made more horrible by the advent of technologies newer than the trebuchet.
Second, get over yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. (I address the large numbers of the planet's population who see a follower of Islam and immediately choose to believe he will kill us all.) The number of people involved in 'terrorist actions' is relatively small as compared to the whole. Yes, there are bad people out there. There have always been bad people out there. It's just that now it's a specific minority that's being targeted. Sound familiar?
Third, I am personally getting tired of hearing about the great sacrifices of our troops in the Middle East. In this day and age, there are two types of active military operations on foreign soil: peacekeeping, and occupation. Peacekeeping missions are military operations condoned by the United Nations, whose soldiers are given a blue beret to signify they have done such operations. I personally know a soldier who has done two tours in Afghanistan. He has no blue beret, as the deployment there is not condoned by the United Nations. Therefore it is not a peacekeeping mission. What was the other option again?
Fourth, it is very insulting, in a genealogical sense, to call these people terrorists, when all they have been doing for the last several years is defending their home nation against an occupying force. My own grandfather was a member of the Dutch Resistance during World War II, doing the exact same thing to Nazi Germany that the Afghans and Iraqis are doing to our troops. Yes, I just compared the people that are permitting the continuance of this military action to Hitler - come and get me. (This point also ties in with my second point, should you wish a refresher.)
Now, have crimes been committed against our allies? I will not deny that. But where did it start? In 1989, Texan Congressman Charles Wilson completed a covert operation with the help of Israel and Egypt to oust the Soviet Army from Afghanistan. A total of $500 million dollars was spent on this, matched by Saudi Arabia. When the job was done, he further asked for a scant few million dollars, less than one percent of the operation's budget and cost, to help build schools and hospitals so Afghanistan could get back on its feet. And he received nothing. In the ensuing power vacuum in Afghanistan, the Taliban, which had no knowledge of America's initial assistance, seized control, believing no one else would help. And so it began.
So, in the end, America made an enemy which was willing to bide its time until it could strike with the furies of Hell. But, as we all know, no story truly ends. Because we stand four days away from the next insult being driven home, an event which leads me, compels me, to write.
On the ninth anniversary of the 11 September attacks, a Florida preacher named Terry Jones, leader of the Dove World Outreach Centre, a controversial church of fifty members, is intending to light up the night sky of Gainesville, Florida. The fuel to the fire: stacks upon stacks of the Qu'ran, the holy book of Islam. Now, book burnings have happened before, and even in our lifetime. Copies of J. K. Rowling's near-legendary 'Harry Potter' series were burned in 2003. In the same year, Iraq's national library was burned to the ground. The library held rare and unique books dating back as far as the 16th century. It also housed one of the oldest known copies of the Qu'ran, which dated back even further.
Depressingly, even Canada has its name on the list of countries touched by this deplorable scenario. In the 1990's, congregants of a church in Grande Cache, Alberta burned books they believed were contrary to the Word of God. Oddly enough, whether coincidence or otherwise, various sects of Christianity also appear on the same list numerous times. I leave that point for you to decide upon.
Book burnings have long since been the purview of extremist sects and fundamentalist groups. To look over the lists of known book burnings throughout history, I can't help but notice one devastating fact: many such incidents were carried out by many groups long-since known to have dabbled in oppression, persecution, and torture of others. Everyone from Stalin to Hitler, from Mao Zedong to the Catholic church and the Spanish Inquisition (Monty Python fans, remain silent) have taken part in this ritual for as long as books have existed. So, when our society and civilization burn books from a culture that is, for the massive percentage of their demographic, an extremely peaceful group of people, what does that say about the rest of us?
~ Heinrich Hilne, 1821
I do realize it's been a long time since I did any form of commentaries in here, but every now and then, there is something which infects my view of the world, and forces me to speak my mind.
To start, let's get a few things very clear. To begin, Islamic extremism does exist in the world. Depsite my personal opinions regarding the events of the past ten years, it is not something I would attempt to deny, as the proof is overwhelming. Even dating back as far as the Crusades - no, it's not a new concept to the world. It's just been made more horrible by the advent of technologies newer than the trebuchet.
Second, get over yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. (I address the large numbers of the planet's population who see a follower of Islam and immediately choose to believe he will kill us all.) The number of people involved in 'terrorist actions' is relatively small as compared to the whole. Yes, there are bad people out there. There have always been bad people out there. It's just that now it's a specific minority that's being targeted. Sound familiar?
Third, I am personally getting tired of hearing about the great sacrifices of our troops in the Middle East. In this day and age, there are two types of active military operations on foreign soil: peacekeeping, and occupation. Peacekeeping missions are military operations condoned by the United Nations, whose soldiers are given a blue beret to signify they have done such operations. I personally know a soldier who has done two tours in Afghanistan. He has no blue beret, as the deployment there is not condoned by the United Nations. Therefore it is not a peacekeeping mission. What was the other option again?
Fourth, it is very insulting, in a genealogical sense, to call these people terrorists, when all they have been doing for the last several years is defending their home nation against an occupying force. My own grandfather was a member of the Dutch Resistance during World War II, doing the exact same thing to Nazi Germany that the Afghans and Iraqis are doing to our troops. Yes, I just compared the people that are permitting the continuance of this military action to Hitler - come and get me. (This point also ties in with my second point, should you wish a refresher.)
Now, have crimes been committed against our allies? I will not deny that. But where did it start? In 1989, Texan Congressman Charles Wilson completed a covert operation with the help of Israel and Egypt to oust the Soviet Army from Afghanistan. A total of $500 million dollars was spent on this, matched by Saudi Arabia. When the job was done, he further asked for a scant few million dollars, less than one percent of the operation's budget and cost, to help build schools and hospitals so Afghanistan could get back on its feet. And he received nothing. In the ensuing power vacuum in Afghanistan, the Taliban, which had no knowledge of America's initial assistance, seized control, believing no one else would help. And so it began.
So, in the end, America made an enemy which was willing to bide its time until it could strike with the furies of Hell. But, as we all know, no story truly ends. Because we stand four days away from the next insult being driven home, an event which leads me, compels me, to write.
On the ninth anniversary of the 11 September attacks, a Florida preacher named Terry Jones, leader of the Dove World Outreach Centre, a controversial church of fifty members, is intending to light up the night sky of Gainesville, Florida. The fuel to the fire: stacks upon stacks of the Qu'ran, the holy book of Islam. Now, book burnings have happened before, and even in our lifetime. Copies of J. K. Rowling's near-legendary 'Harry Potter' series were burned in 2003. In the same year, Iraq's national library was burned to the ground. The library held rare and unique books dating back as far as the 16th century. It also housed one of the oldest known copies of the Qu'ran, which dated back even further.
Depressingly, even Canada has its name on the list of countries touched by this deplorable scenario. In the 1990's, congregants of a church in Grande Cache, Alberta burned books they believed were contrary to the Word of God. Oddly enough, whether coincidence or otherwise, various sects of Christianity also appear on the same list numerous times. I leave that point for you to decide upon.
Book burnings have long since been the purview of extremist sects and fundamentalist groups. To look over the lists of known book burnings throughout history, I can't help but notice one devastating fact: many such incidents were carried out by many groups long-since known to have dabbled in oppression, persecution, and torture of others. Everyone from Stalin to Hitler, from Mao Zedong to the Catholic church and the Spanish Inquisition (Monty Python fans, remain silent) have taken part in this ritual for as long as books have existed. So, when our society and civilization burn books from a culture that is, for the massive percentage of their demographic, an extremely peaceful group of people, what does that say about the rest of us?
25 April 2010
The Battleship's Return to Toronto
So, waking up at my usual 05:00 to do laundry on Thursday, I had a clear mind (without the need of coffee!) and was ready to start the few things needed previous to going to Toronto. I should not have skipped the coffee.
Doing my one and only load of laundry, I had just pulled my favourite denim jacket out of the washer, when my mp3 player fell out of the pocket. Oh, what a way to start. As I am generally shake-me-to-the-bones-terrified of flying, this was to be my way of keeping my nerves in check, and it is now so much useless circuits and plastic. So, a replacement was needed. Good thing I was going to the Bargain Shop downtown to get some new pants for the trip. (I also got a watch that was still set to Central Time while in Toronto, which did nothing but screw with my head on a constant basis, but that's another story.)
So, we're on our way out of town. Tesla was set to spend some time in Barrie with Barbatos, so we drove together. Of course, not 15 minutes out of town, and he's pulled over for speeding. Once that was dealt with (and I hope he sent payment in for the ticket, otherwise his license will get suspended, and future trips to Thunder Bay will be in serious jeopardy) we moved on. At the same speed. Oy.
Without further adieu, we get to Thunder Bay and store the German Workhorse at Pellet's place outside of town, who drives us to the airport. And just in time too, because no sooner was Tesla checked in for his flight, he had to dash to catch up with it. My flight was scheduled to take off an hour later.
So, two hours later, my flight arrives, having undergone 'unexpected maintenance' in Toronto. Translation: I was getting on a plane that had just come back from being broken. Oy.
Needless to say, the two hours I was airborne were a constant test on my nerves. Every patch of turbulence felt like a hurricane - oh hell, you all get the idea by this point. I'm terrified to fly, that's all I need to say. It was made worse when I devised the theory that Porter Airlines pilots must be trained in F-18 Hornets, even though Chrysalis warned me in advance that these little planes are generally used in a more acrobatic fashion.
From there, things went superb. And no, that is not sarcasm. It went really well. Friday saw me going to visit the Limey and the Welsh, catch up on current happenings, then move on the South Core to see if I could spot any of the old crew. After a while, Chrysalis was able to join me, and we spent the day walking around and updating each other on the goings-on of our lives. After a while, the topic came up of going to see a movie.
'Nightmare on Elm Street' isn't out yet at this point, and Chrysalis would never agree to such a movie. Just not her cup of tea. In the end, we decided on 'Avatar.' It is now most certainly amongst my top favourite movies of all time, not for the cinematography or CGI used in the movie, but for the storyline. That and, I must admit, for having blue skin and a tail, Neytiri was quite striking. (Hey, even the Immortal Amoeba can judge - I just don't do it that often.)
The next day, Saturday, was the big bash. Drako's mother had been kind enough to offer me shelter during my trip, and it was there that I had scheduled to meet Kaiser when he drove in from London. From there, the three of us went to Queen/Yonge to pick up Andariel and her friend, Haggis. On reaching the bar where the party would begin, I was soon after steam-rolled into a hug by yet another long-time friend, Chipper, who was there with her boyfriend. The seven of us whittled away the hours in food and drink, laughing at whatever we could.
On to the second bar, Kaiser began acting his usual self to Andariel. I won't go into great detail, but I'm more than certain she got a lot of material for her next group of erotica short stories. Neither knew at the time, but putting those two across from each other had been a master plan of my own. Andariel has often said that while Drako is more than willing to 'perform' at any time, the central type of attention she wants most is not often given. The same type of attention that Kaiser is notorious for dishing out at any time on the clock. Again, no great detail, but it worked fabulously. (Sulli, if you're reading this, you needn't worry; Kaiser ain't going nowhere but back in bed with you.)
So, goodbyes were said at the end of the night, and we all tottered off to those places we called our bunks for the night. Plans were hatched between Haggis and myself to possibly collaborate on future works. I'd have to see some of his work, to see the exact type of writing, but more importantly the style. If it checks out though, I'd be willing to give it a spin. But more vital to me was that the conversation gave a random flash of insight. I've long since thought of Road to Megiddo and Shattered World to be two separate projects, but it could easily stand a chance to combine them. I've long since thought Megiddo could be too short of a novel to begin with. I'll be taking a look into this later in the week.
Anyway, on to the plane, where I was surprised to find I wasn't near as nervous. I still don't like it, but at least I didn't have a panic attack on take-off. Little remains to say, except that driving back to Atikokan with Wrench and Lazarus, we got stopped short twice, once by a trio of does, the other by a cow moose. (Note to Tesla: that's one more I've got up on you - you'll never catch up.) And now I sit at home once again, in my own little corner of Northern Ontario, with my thoughts, as they often do, turning to my friends down south. Along with those thoughts goes the thought that I really must try and do that trip more often.
Doing my one and only load of laundry, I had just pulled my favourite denim jacket out of the washer, when my mp3 player fell out of the pocket. Oh, what a way to start. As I am generally shake-me-to-the-bones-terrified of flying, this was to be my way of keeping my nerves in check, and it is now so much useless circuits and plastic. So, a replacement was needed. Good thing I was going to the Bargain Shop downtown to get some new pants for the trip. (I also got a watch that was still set to Central Time while in Toronto, which did nothing but screw with my head on a constant basis, but that's another story.)
So, we're on our way out of town. Tesla was set to spend some time in Barrie with Barbatos, so we drove together. Of course, not 15 minutes out of town, and he's pulled over for speeding. Once that was dealt with (and I hope he sent payment in for the ticket, otherwise his license will get suspended, and future trips to Thunder Bay will be in serious jeopardy) we moved on. At the same speed. Oy.
Without further adieu, we get to Thunder Bay and store the German Workhorse at Pellet's place outside of town, who drives us to the airport. And just in time too, because no sooner was Tesla checked in for his flight, he had to dash to catch up with it. My flight was scheduled to take off an hour later.
So, two hours later, my flight arrives, having undergone 'unexpected maintenance' in Toronto. Translation: I was getting on a plane that had just come back from being broken. Oy.
Needless to say, the two hours I was airborne were a constant test on my nerves. Every patch of turbulence felt like a hurricane - oh hell, you all get the idea by this point. I'm terrified to fly, that's all I need to say. It was made worse when I devised the theory that Porter Airlines pilots must be trained in F-18 Hornets, even though Chrysalis warned me in advance that these little planes are generally used in a more acrobatic fashion.
From there, things went superb. And no, that is not sarcasm. It went really well. Friday saw me going to visit the Limey and the Welsh, catch up on current happenings, then move on the South Core to see if I could spot any of the old crew. After a while, Chrysalis was able to join me, and we spent the day walking around and updating each other on the goings-on of our lives. After a while, the topic came up of going to see a movie.
'Nightmare on Elm Street' isn't out yet at this point, and Chrysalis would never agree to such a movie. Just not her cup of tea. In the end, we decided on 'Avatar.' It is now most certainly amongst my top favourite movies of all time, not for the cinematography or CGI used in the movie, but for the storyline. That and, I must admit, for having blue skin and a tail, Neytiri was quite striking. (Hey, even the Immortal Amoeba can judge - I just don't do it that often.)
The next day, Saturday, was the big bash. Drako's mother had been kind enough to offer me shelter during my trip, and it was there that I had scheduled to meet Kaiser when he drove in from London. From there, the three of us went to Queen/Yonge to pick up Andariel and her friend, Haggis. On reaching the bar where the party would begin, I was soon after steam-rolled into a hug by yet another long-time friend, Chipper, who was there with her boyfriend. The seven of us whittled away the hours in food and drink, laughing at whatever we could.
On to the second bar, Kaiser began acting his usual self to Andariel. I won't go into great detail, but I'm more than certain she got a lot of material for her next group of erotica short stories. Neither knew at the time, but putting those two across from each other had been a master plan of my own. Andariel has often said that while Drako is more than willing to 'perform' at any time, the central type of attention she wants most is not often given. The same type of attention that Kaiser is notorious for dishing out at any time on the clock. Again, no great detail, but it worked fabulously. (Sulli, if you're reading this, you needn't worry; Kaiser ain't going nowhere but back in bed with you.)
So, goodbyes were said at the end of the night, and we all tottered off to those places we called our bunks for the night. Plans were hatched between Haggis and myself to possibly collaborate on future works. I'd have to see some of his work, to see the exact type of writing, but more importantly the style. If it checks out though, I'd be willing to give it a spin. But more vital to me was that the conversation gave a random flash of insight. I've long since thought of Road to Megiddo and Shattered World to be two separate projects, but it could easily stand a chance to combine them. I've long since thought Megiddo could be too short of a novel to begin with. I'll be taking a look into this later in the week.
Anyway, on to the plane, where I was surprised to find I wasn't near as nervous. I still don't like it, but at least I didn't have a panic attack on take-off. Little remains to say, except that driving back to Atikokan with Wrench and Lazarus, we got stopped short twice, once by a trio of does, the other by a cow moose. (Note to Tesla: that's one more I've got up on you - you'll never catch up.) And now I sit at home once again, in my own little corner of Northern Ontario, with my thoughts, as they often do, turning to my friends down south. Along with those thoughts goes the thought that I really must try and do that trip more often.
22 April 2010
The Battle of the Dead Anacondas
Yes, I know, it's been a long time. And yes, I know that with my impending trip to Toronto, I should be packing. But there's still time; I leave for the airport in five hours.
So, in lieu of my trip, I figured I should at least attempt to update everyone on what's been going on, so as to minimize having to tell the same story eighteen thousand times.
To start, the big presses are gone, finally. It took us nearly three solid months before we could get the last pieces (35- and 50-tonne steel rollers) out the bay door at the west end of the plant. Of course, the last one was so immense, it nearly took out the door. (The photos are on my Facebook, for those who have access.)
Of course, that wasn't the end of the job. There was still a lot of (s)crap that had to get gone. And this caused some problems. They were chopping out steel every day with an acetylene torch, around lots and lots of sawdust. (Anyone who's read my previous posts knows how bad a thing this could be.) Every time they chopped through some metal, molten steel dropped to the floor below - often into small piles of sawdust. So, this had to be dealt with. And what they would often do is use a fire hose.
Now, this caused problems for me. The fire hoses are conveniently attached to the fire alarms. When water is used from the fire system, water pressure drops and triggers an alarm. Lazarus in particular tripped the system, sending me scurrying to the east end to reset the panel. And putting me into a heart attack. But at least we know that part of the system works. (God knows it should, I spent two weeks on that alone.)
Of course, with all the precautions in place, things can still go wrong. One of the guys was torching out an auger conveyor. From what I've heard, the thing dropped a couple of inches when he finished, kicking up a little dust inside it. And his torch was still aimed at the opening, which ignited the dust and caused a small flashover. No damage or injury, so we all managed to have a good laugh at his expense.
As for me, I've still been twiddling away at the electrical system, and had my major job for the last few weeks centred on the electrical room, getting it cleaned up and ready for use. One of our 40-foot motor control consoles (and half of the other one) is getting taken out and placed elsewhere in the plant, so Tesla and me have been busying ourselves vacuuming it out and getting the cables cleared out from it.
Most of the cables (Teck 90 industrial cable, for those who wish to look into it) have been small (width, not length) at three or four 14-gauge wires each. Others are not so small. (Andariel, I know you worry about my back - maybe you should look away.) There's cables I've been slugging around that are 60-100 feet long, and weigh in at a pound per foot. And those aren't the biggest in there, either.
And there's a lot of them, too. The floor to the electrical shop is removable, so you can get in underneath to repair/replace cables when needed. The crawl space underneath was full of cables for us to chop out. That alone we've been at for a week straight, and have cleared less than half. We've taken to calling them dead anacondas, because of length, though also because of how difficult it is to drag them out.
Though I suppose it could be worse. Those anacondas could be live when we cut into them.
So, in lieu of my trip, I figured I should at least attempt to update everyone on what's been going on, so as to minimize having to tell the same story eighteen thousand times.
To start, the big presses are gone, finally. It took us nearly three solid months before we could get the last pieces (35- and 50-tonne steel rollers) out the bay door at the west end of the plant. Of course, the last one was so immense, it nearly took out the door. (The photos are on my Facebook, for those who have access.)
Of course, that wasn't the end of the job. There was still a lot of (s)crap that had to get gone. And this caused some problems. They were chopping out steel every day with an acetylene torch, around lots and lots of sawdust. (Anyone who's read my previous posts knows how bad a thing this could be.) Every time they chopped through some metal, molten steel dropped to the floor below - often into small piles of sawdust. So, this had to be dealt with. And what they would often do is use a fire hose.
Now, this caused problems for me. The fire hoses are conveniently attached to the fire alarms. When water is used from the fire system, water pressure drops and triggers an alarm. Lazarus in particular tripped the system, sending me scurrying to the east end to reset the panel. And putting me into a heart attack. But at least we know that part of the system works. (God knows it should, I spent two weeks on that alone.)
Of course, with all the precautions in place, things can still go wrong. One of the guys was torching out an auger conveyor. From what I've heard, the thing dropped a couple of inches when he finished, kicking up a little dust inside it. And his torch was still aimed at the opening, which ignited the dust and caused a small flashover. No damage or injury, so we all managed to have a good laugh at his expense.
As for me, I've still been twiddling away at the electrical system, and had my major job for the last few weeks centred on the electrical room, getting it cleaned up and ready for use. One of our 40-foot motor control consoles (and half of the other one) is getting taken out and placed elsewhere in the plant, so Tesla and me have been busying ourselves vacuuming it out and getting the cables cleared out from it.
Most of the cables (Teck 90 industrial cable, for those who wish to look into it) have been small (width, not length) at three or four 14-gauge wires each. Others are not so small. (Andariel, I know you worry about my back - maybe you should look away.) There's cables I've been slugging around that are 60-100 feet long, and weigh in at a pound per foot. And those aren't the biggest in there, either.
And there's a lot of them, too. The floor to the electrical shop is removable, so you can get in underneath to repair/replace cables when needed. The crawl space underneath was full of cables for us to chop out. That alone we've been at for a week straight, and have cleared less than half. We've taken to calling them dead anacondas, because of length, though also because of how difficult it is to drag them out.
Though I suppose it could be worse. Those anacondas could be live when we cut into them.
19 March 2010
Must it be Always the Same Song?
"Should we have one politician who thinks not of his future, but thinks of his morals, it would be the largest cataclysm to reach any government, and we would long after remember it as the greatest thing ever."
~ Codex Anima
I will, and have on frequent occasion, conceded that I don't like many politicians. It's not that they lie about everything, or that they make campaign promises that never get fulfilled. It's because of the reason they do these things that I generally dislike them: survival.
Now, let me explain, as a politician once put it to me. A person goes into politics because they see a system that needs to be changed, or because they see things in their country which they believe can be changed for the better, only to find out that none of the politicians who represent them are willing to sign on with their ideals. (This is a hypothetical scenario only intended to represent a percentage of those of good quality in political office - the rest of them are Conservatives.)
So, they beat the campaign trails, they make their enheartened speeches about what they see wrong, and how they intend to change it. Then what happens next but the damn fool gets elected. He gets to Ottawa / Washington, DC / London / et cetera, only to find the reason no ideas he put forward made it anywhere. Every politician has their own agendas, which they frequently sell parts of, either by casting out their campaign promises, or by voting for/against certain agendas of other politicians, in order to accrue those critical votes to get their One Big Idea through with at least 30% of it still intact.
And more often than not, their One Big Idea still gets beat down, or never comes up for vote before they're forced out of office for not fulfilling their campaign promises. (You notice how so many politicians plunge daggers into each other over campaign promises broken?) So their great plans to benefit society are laid to waste simply because other politicians tell them they need to be enticed.
Then there's the lobbyists, the backroom cloak-and-dagger types who whisper in the ears of politicians to get what their corporations want in return for massive campaign contributions, or perhaps positions on their Board of Directors when they leave public office. Brian Mulroney himself sits on the Board of Directors for seven major corporations, which by my research is a record for any Canadian politician. These lobbyists come from places such as the pharmaceutical companies, the modern-day oil barons, and many other such places. And the politicians listen, and vote the way the corporations want them to. (And you say corporations don't run the world?)
But just today, I saw something, a glimmering beam of hope shining from the one place I never expected to see it: the United States Congress. Of course, it came from a Democrat - would you expect anything else? John Boccieri (D-Ohio) stood before the cameras of CNN today regarding President Obama's 'Health Care Reform' while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with three of his constituents who have been denied health insurance because of pre-existing conditions. He told the cameras on live television that, while it would most likely be political suicide to do so, he will be voting for the bill to pass.
Not his exact words, granted, but close enough. An American politician, even a Democrat, stating that he was going to gamble his political career on something that would be of benefit not just to his constituents, but to the country as a whole. In all my life, I have never heard a politician openly say he was going to vote a certain way simply because his own ethics demanded it so. To be quite honest, I thought I was dreaming at first. Then I accidentally dropped my cigarette on the back of my hand.
All I can really say beyond this point is that I sincerely hope, for the sake of those he represents, that he survives the next election, and keeps his morals with him. Who knows, the type of future we all so desperately hope politicians can bring just started on CNN today.
But I still kind of doubt it.
~ Codex Anima
I will, and have on frequent occasion, conceded that I don't like many politicians. It's not that they lie about everything, or that they make campaign promises that never get fulfilled. It's because of the reason they do these things that I generally dislike them: survival.
Now, let me explain, as a politician once put it to me. A person goes into politics because they see a system that needs to be changed, or because they see things in their country which they believe can be changed for the better, only to find out that none of the politicians who represent them are willing to sign on with their ideals. (This is a hypothetical scenario only intended to represent a percentage of those of good quality in political office - the rest of them are Conservatives.)
So, they beat the campaign trails, they make their enheartened speeches about what they see wrong, and how they intend to change it. Then what happens next but the damn fool gets elected. He gets to Ottawa / Washington, DC / London / et cetera, only to find the reason no ideas he put forward made it anywhere. Every politician has their own agendas, which they frequently sell parts of, either by casting out their campaign promises, or by voting for/against certain agendas of other politicians, in order to accrue those critical votes to get their One Big Idea through with at least 30% of it still intact.
And more often than not, their One Big Idea still gets beat down, or never comes up for vote before they're forced out of office for not fulfilling their campaign promises. (You notice how so many politicians plunge daggers into each other over campaign promises broken?) So their great plans to benefit society are laid to waste simply because other politicians tell them they need to be enticed.
Then there's the lobbyists, the backroom cloak-and-dagger types who whisper in the ears of politicians to get what their corporations want in return for massive campaign contributions, or perhaps positions on their Board of Directors when they leave public office. Brian Mulroney himself sits on the Board of Directors for seven major corporations, which by my research is a record for any Canadian politician. These lobbyists come from places such as the pharmaceutical companies, the modern-day oil barons, and many other such places. And the politicians listen, and vote the way the corporations want them to. (And you say corporations don't run the world?)
But just today, I saw something, a glimmering beam of hope shining from the one place I never expected to see it: the United States Congress. Of course, it came from a Democrat - would you expect anything else? John Boccieri (D-Ohio) stood before the cameras of CNN today regarding President Obama's 'Health Care Reform' while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with three of his constituents who have been denied health insurance because of pre-existing conditions. He told the cameras on live television that, while it would most likely be political suicide to do so, he will be voting for the bill to pass.
Not his exact words, granted, but close enough. An American politician, even a Democrat, stating that he was going to gamble his political career on something that would be of benefit not just to his constituents, but to the country as a whole. In all my life, I have never heard a politician openly say he was going to vote a certain way simply because his own ethics demanded it so. To be quite honest, I thought I was dreaming at first. Then I accidentally dropped my cigarette on the back of my hand.
All I can really say beyond this point is that I sincerely hope, for the sake of those he represents, that he survives the next election, and keeps his morals with him. Who knows, the type of future we all so desperately hope politicians can bring just started on CNN today.
But I still kind of doubt it.
15 March 2010
Memories of Swine Gone By...
"And if you're not going to have a clear health threat, you don't want to panic people."
~ William Scranton
From the latest figures released thus far, 'Swine flu has claimed at least 16,173 people around the world since it was uncovered,' according to the World Health Organization. (AFP, 13 March 2010) This came less than a year after CNN reported 'thousands of flu-related deaths since January' 2009. Those were all the dreaded H1N1 as well, right? Wrong. Those deaths were your standard, run-of-the-mill influenza that makes its rounds every year.
Now, you ask, 'What's the sense in pointing that out to us?' To this, I am forced to answer, 'To add perspective.' And it's true - from everything I've seen thus far, the major global killing threat swine flu was destined to become by God Himself has yet to materialize, and there is already evidence to suggest that we're already through the second wave of contagion.
This should certainly stand as a lesson to all: history repeats. Quite out of left field on that one, aren't I? Very well, let me set the stage. It's 1976: the would-be assassin of then-President Gerald Ford is sentenced to life in prison; Palestine has been allowed to speak at a debate in the United Nations - but not vote; the world's first supersonic passenger jet, the Concorde, saw its first commercial flight; and, NBC has just introduced its new logo. That's just in January alone.
19 January also saw the first emergence of H1N1, which was predicted to take the world by storm and end all mankind as we know it, at Fort Dix, New Jersey. Vaccination programs are launched across the United States as quickly as it can be managed, one of the largest ever to date. The flu burned itself out in 21 days, having never left Fort Dix, with the vaccinations having had no effect to stem its spread - because it hadn't spread far enough.
History now knows it as the Swine Flu Fiasco, because the flu only killed 13 people. The more ominous thing about the flu was the vaccine itself, which killed 25 and caused five hundred cases of Guillain-Barre syndrome, an extremely rare (2 out of 100,000 people) medical condition which causes ascending paralysis, usually causing death when the paralysis reaches the diaphragm. That's right - it causes you to suffocate if left untreated. Nice vaccine, eh?
The point I'm making is this: just because a major outbreak of some 'dangerously infectious and highly lethal disease' is anticipated to roll through like Captain Trips (see Stephen King's 'The Stand' for this reference) doesn't mean you need to pack up on canned foods, get every inoculation medical science has to offer, and hermetically seal your apartment for the next 250,000 years. Mass panic and mob mentalities have probably killed more people than bubonic plague in the last thousand years.
~ William Scranton
From the latest figures released thus far, 'Swine flu has claimed at least 16,173 people around the world since it was uncovered,' according to the World Health Organization. (AFP, 13 March 2010) This came less than a year after CNN reported 'thousands of flu-related deaths since January' 2009. Those were all the dreaded H1N1 as well, right? Wrong. Those deaths were your standard, run-of-the-mill influenza that makes its rounds every year.
Now, you ask, 'What's the sense in pointing that out to us?' To this, I am forced to answer, 'To add perspective.' And it's true - from everything I've seen thus far, the major global killing threat swine flu was destined to become by God Himself has yet to materialize, and there is already evidence to suggest that we're already through the second wave of contagion.
This should certainly stand as a lesson to all: history repeats. Quite out of left field on that one, aren't I? Very well, let me set the stage. It's 1976: the would-be assassin of then-President Gerald Ford is sentenced to life in prison; Palestine has been allowed to speak at a debate in the United Nations - but not vote; the world's first supersonic passenger jet, the Concorde, saw its first commercial flight; and, NBC has just introduced its new logo. That's just in January alone.
19 January also saw the first emergence of H1N1, which was predicted to take the world by storm and end all mankind as we know it, at Fort Dix, New Jersey. Vaccination programs are launched across the United States as quickly as it can be managed, one of the largest ever to date. The flu burned itself out in 21 days, having never left Fort Dix, with the vaccinations having had no effect to stem its spread - because it hadn't spread far enough.
History now knows it as the Swine Flu Fiasco, because the flu only killed 13 people. The more ominous thing about the flu was the vaccine itself, which killed 25 and caused five hundred cases of Guillain-Barre syndrome, an extremely rare (2 out of 100,000 people) medical condition which causes ascending paralysis, usually causing death when the paralysis reaches the diaphragm. That's right - it causes you to suffocate if left untreated. Nice vaccine, eh?
The point I'm making is this: just because a major outbreak of some 'dangerously infectious and highly lethal disease' is anticipated to roll through like Captain Trips (see Stephen King's 'The Stand' for this reference) doesn't mean you need to pack up on canned foods, get every inoculation medical science has to offer, and hermetically seal your apartment for the next 250,000 years. Mass panic and mob mentalities have probably killed more people than bubonic plague in the last thousand years.
22 February 2010
The Work-A-Day World, Part V
Okay, to start things off, I am going to change the scheduling (as best as I can) of my entries. As of now, all entries will be put in on Monday of each week. The reason: Mondays are always interesting. Reader be warned...
So the day started off as they usually do, calm and quiet, with me and Tesla deciding what we're going to tackle. Today we went hell-bent on some random cabling for a priority system within the plant that will be used beyond the decommissioning. Unfortunately, the point of this system closest to the ground is still twelve feet above the concrete - totalling to 98% of it comfortably residing at ceiling level, about forty feet from the ground. Eek.
So I spent most of the day with the cross-beams of the ceiling at eye level, following two cables half the length of the main building. I was starting to get used to it, though. That is, until I started feeling something very warm on my back at one point. Instinctively, I turn around - and promptly get blinded by a 1000-watt metal halide bulb. Fun times, aren't they?
Anyway, the rest of the day passed without incident. Rather, I should say that most of the day passed without incident. The plant was getting quiet, everyone was gearing up for the migration out the door. I grab on the controls of the lift I was using since 07:30, and begin to lower myself down to ground level and safety.
Now, these lifts are powered by propane. And, of course, the tank ran empty with me twenty feet from the ground. For the second time in five weeks, I was stranded with my feet off the ground. Thankfully, there was just enough fumes in it to power back up (twice) and get me within jumping distance before it gave up the ghost. So in the end, all's well that ends well.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm grabbing a keg of beer to calm my battered nerves.
So the day started off as they usually do, calm and quiet, with me and Tesla deciding what we're going to tackle. Today we went hell-bent on some random cabling for a priority system within the plant that will be used beyond the decommissioning. Unfortunately, the point of this system closest to the ground is still twelve feet above the concrete - totalling to 98% of it comfortably residing at ceiling level, about forty feet from the ground. Eek.
So I spent most of the day with the cross-beams of the ceiling at eye level, following two cables half the length of the main building. I was starting to get used to it, though. That is, until I started feeling something very warm on my back at one point. Instinctively, I turn around - and promptly get blinded by a 1000-watt metal halide bulb. Fun times, aren't they?
Anyway, the rest of the day passed without incident. Rather, I should say that most of the day passed without incident. The plant was getting quiet, everyone was gearing up for the migration out the door. I grab on the controls of the lift I was using since 07:30, and begin to lower myself down to ground level and safety.
Now, these lifts are powered by propane. And, of course, the tank ran empty with me twenty feet from the ground. For the second time in five weeks, I was stranded with my feet off the ground. Thankfully, there was just enough fumes in it to power back up (twice) and get me within jumping distance before it gave up the ghost. So in the end, all's well that ends well.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm grabbing a keg of beer to calm my battered nerves.
16 February 2010
Random Entry
So, as I didn't keep to my usual Thursday evening publishing schedule, you can safely assume that nothing has been happening until recently. But first, to catch you up on what actually has happened...
First off, I got into Thunder Bay again to visit Yeti. Mostly the same old thing, exchanging old stories and new theories. Though I did finally meet another person he knew up here. That was interesting, albeit brief. The guy foxholed for most of my visit - apparently, this is the status quo. Yeti ran me through some of the games he has for PS3. Didn't really play them much, but I've always been more comfortable with PC-mounted anyway.
It kind of sucked having to haul out last night to come back to Atikokan - I'll admit to feeling a little isolated up here. Writing would certainly help, but not only my old curse, but work as well, is severely cutting into what creativity I have. Oh well, there's still weekends.
Probably the biggest news came just today. Leaving for work at our usual 06:30, the oil light began flashing at us with a very annoying tone sounding out. The German Workhorse was in trouble. Rather than chance continuing the drive to the factory, we pulled over and abandoned it on a side road, and looked forward to continuing the trip on foot. That is, until one of our co-workers saw me, Tesla, and Lazarus walking along the side of the road. Tesla in the cab, me and Lazarus into the back, we finished the trip in about three minutes. And a good thing too - it was warm in comparison to other days, but that soon changes at 50 kph while exposed to wind chill.
Work was rough. Or I should perhaps say, it was rough on me. My spine, my right knee, and even more ominous, my left thigh, they were all aching in twenty minutes. Advil did nothing. All I could do is grunt through it and hope for the end to come, as I usually do. But there was still work to do: we had to collect our sick Jetta.
And there came Wrench to the rescue. With a length of half-inch rope tied around a tow point, he guided the Workhorse to the best place in Atikokan for the car to be taken care of: back to the factory. Pulling it inside, a quick exam of the oil told us exactly what was wrong.
The car hasn't been used enough. Gas has been leaking into the oil reservoir, watering down the oil itself. Doom averted, we need only a complete oil change and a new filter for good measure. An hour's work, and the Workhorse shall live again.
And to think, I was almost ready to write the damn thing's eulogy.
First off, I got into Thunder Bay again to visit Yeti. Mostly the same old thing, exchanging old stories and new theories. Though I did finally meet another person he knew up here. That was interesting, albeit brief. The guy foxholed for most of my visit - apparently, this is the status quo. Yeti ran me through some of the games he has for PS3. Didn't really play them much, but I've always been more comfortable with PC-mounted anyway.
It kind of sucked having to haul out last night to come back to Atikokan - I'll admit to feeling a little isolated up here. Writing would certainly help, but not only my old curse, but work as well, is severely cutting into what creativity I have. Oh well, there's still weekends.
Probably the biggest news came just today. Leaving for work at our usual 06:30, the oil light began flashing at us with a very annoying tone sounding out. The German Workhorse was in trouble. Rather than chance continuing the drive to the factory, we pulled over and abandoned it on a side road, and looked forward to continuing the trip on foot. That is, until one of our co-workers saw me, Tesla, and Lazarus walking along the side of the road. Tesla in the cab, me and Lazarus into the back, we finished the trip in about three minutes. And a good thing too - it was warm in comparison to other days, but that soon changes at 50 kph while exposed to wind chill.
Work was rough. Or I should perhaps say, it was rough on me. My spine, my right knee, and even more ominous, my left thigh, they were all aching in twenty minutes. Advil did nothing. All I could do is grunt through it and hope for the end to come, as I usually do. But there was still work to do: we had to collect our sick Jetta.
And there came Wrench to the rescue. With a length of half-inch rope tied around a tow point, he guided the Workhorse to the best place in Atikokan for the car to be taken care of: back to the factory. Pulling it inside, a quick exam of the oil told us exactly what was wrong.
The car hasn't been used enough. Gas has been leaking into the oil reservoir, watering down the oil itself. Doom averted, we need only a complete oil change and a new filter for good measure. An hour's work, and the Workhorse shall live again.
And to think, I was almost ready to write the damn thing's eulogy.
09 February 2010
The Work-A-Day World, Part IV
First off, to Hell and brimstone with having my system on Central Time - I'm the only person in town that's even using it. Yes, Atikokan is 100+ kilometres from the Eastern/Central border, but no one here seems to give a damn. And despite my reputation of not following the crowd, if no one else is going to use it, why should I?
Yes, I'm in a mood. The work week is half over, yes. Thursday morning (probably about 01:30) I'll be getting paid, yes. This will most likely be the largest pay cheque I've ever seen, thank God yes. It was just that crummy a day. No explosions, no fires, no serious injuries requiring hospitalizations, no live power cables scaring the living hell out of me... just work. Though I suppose I should start off where it really began, that being yesterday.
A head cold. I was all but stopped in my tracks by a head cold. My nose weighed a ton, I was getting cold chills every five milliseconds - I half-wondered if I had the flu, to be honest. Needless to say, I felt like death warmed over. And I still put in a full day of work. Last night, felt just as under the weather - and I couldn't sleep. Hail the return of my immortal companion, Insomnia.
So today, with only three or four hours of sleep (you'd think I'd be used to it by now) it was back to cutting cables and dragging them off to be packed and sent overseas. Not so bad, I've done it before. That is, until they started taking off the metal panelling from the floor to expose the cabling trenches - those were our next job.
I've probably described them before, but let me re-iterate: three feet deep, a foot wide, and 90% of the cables in them are at the bottom, underneath two full feet of sawdust, with just enough of the cables sticking up through the sawdust (most of them for no reason; they come up to the surface at one point, only to trail back down to the bottom) that simply shovelling out the trenches would be tedious at best. And the vacuums we have at the plant are about a decade old, and on their last legs.
Of course, that situation would be a blessing, because it doesn't include frequent flooding of those trenches to transform decades-old sawdust into a consistency somewhere between wet bundles of newspaper and Lake Erie clay. I think you see where this is going.
So, two hours go by, with minimal progress and maximum effort, when we get new orders. Because hauling these cables out is being such a bastardly task (something everyone there predicted months ago) we were to just put the metal panelling back in place and be shot of the whole thing. No major thing, right? We just take every last cable that we've fought tooth and nail to get exposed to open air for the time in my lifetime and bury the whole rat's nest once again.
Suffice it to say, no one was happy. We were looking at digging out sawdust manually to make room for these cables to go back in, which we all knew would take forever. Then, the magic words come across from one of my co-workers: "Hey, isn't there that 200 horsepower vacuum cleaner in the back somewhere? That thing's pretty damn new - it shouldn't have a problem dealing with this!"
Side Note: I restrained myself from killing anyone for overlooking that vacuum previously.
Yes, I'm in a mood. The work week is half over, yes. Thursday morning (probably about 01:30) I'll be getting paid, yes. This will most likely be the largest pay cheque I've ever seen, thank God yes. It was just that crummy a day. No explosions, no fires, no serious injuries requiring hospitalizations, no live power cables scaring the living hell out of me... just work. Though I suppose I should start off where it really began, that being yesterday.
A head cold. I was all but stopped in my tracks by a head cold. My nose weighed a ton, I was getting cold chills every five milliseconds - I half-wondered if I had the flu, to be honest. Needless to say, I felt like death warmed over. And I still put in a full day of work. Last night, felt just as under the weather - and I couldn't sleep. Hail the return of my immortal companion, Insomnia.
So today, with only three or four hours of sleep (you'd think I'd be used to it by now) it was back to cutting cables and dragging them off to be packed and sent overseas. Not so bad, I've done it before. That is, until they started taking off the metal panelling from the floor to expose the cabling trenches - those were our next job.
I've probably described them before, but let me re-iterate: three feet deep, a foot wide, and 90% of the cables in them are at the bottom, underneath two full feet of sawdust, with just enough of the cables sticking up through the sawdust (most of them for no reason; they come up to the surface at one point, only to trail back down to the bottom) that simply shovelling out the trenches would be tedious at best. And the vacuums we have at the plant are about a decade old, and on their last legs.
Of course, that situation would be a blessing, because it doesn't include frequent flooding of those trenches to transform decades-old sawdust into a consistency somewhere between wet bundles of newspaper and Lake Erie clay. I think you see where this is going.
So, two hours go by, with minimal progress and maximum effort, when we get new orders. Because hauling these cables out is being such a bastardly task (something everyone there predicted months ago) we were to just put the metal panelling back in place and be shot of the whole thing. No major thing, right? We just take every last cable that we've fought tooth and nail to get exposed to open air for the time in my lifetime and bury the whole rat's nest once again.
Suffice it to say, no one was happy. We were looking at digging out sawdust manually to make room for these cables to go back in, which we all knew would take forever. Then, the magic words come across from one of my co-workers: "Hey, isn't there that 200 horsepower vacuum cleaner in the back somewhere? That thing's pretty damn new - it shouldn't have a problem dealing with this!"
Side Note: I restrained myself from killing anyone for overlooking that vacuum previously.
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