You know you're in Newfoundland when, while in the process of rummaging through a fridge in search of breakfast items, you come across a cooked turkey neck.
"A cooked turkey neck?" Yes. I can see how some would raise a sardonic eyebrow or purse their lips in distaste. You see, where I come from, we cook and eat turkey fairly often. It's kind of a staple. This could be due to the fact that a large turkey feeds many hungry people, which is great when a normal Sunday dinner with the family is comprised of no less than 15 participants. It could also be argued that the turkey serves as a convenient vehicle for all the tasty stuff that goes along with it - pease pudding, greens (turnip, mustard, dandelion and various other permutations), salt beef, boiled vegetables (potatoes, cabbage, carrots, turnip, parsnip, etc.) Or, it could be just because turkey is frigging delicious, full stop.
I won't go into a lengthy dissertation of how one actually eats a turkey neck - it's an ugly, ungainly process. There are vertebrae. There's also a spinal cord in there, which will vary in length/thickness/revoltingness according to the size of the bird from whence it came. You basically just haul the cooked neck out of the roasting pan (the neck always cooks faster than the rest of the turkey), scoop a ladlefull of dressing out of the exposed arse of the bird, throw the two into a bowl and eat it in one of two ways: standing over the stove like some sort of starving convict a la "Great Expectations", or, sitting down at the table in a darkened, fragrant kitchen and sharing the pickings with somone you love who also loves the neck. It has been my experience that neck folks are usually excellent people. My mother and her sister are neck people, as was my late grandmother O'Neill. Lovely ladies to a one.
Why do we love the neck so much? I have a couple of theories. One stems from the fact that we are not a wasteful folk. We share an inherent frugality that stems from a heritage built on large families from outport communities who lived off what the sea and land provided on a seasonal basis. Not much went to waste back in the day - there were no supermarkets in these tiny, isolated outports. Refrigeration was a bit on the sketchy side as well. So, if you turned up your nose at a nice bit of meat from whatever animal was on the menu, odds are you'd go hungry. Eating the neck just made sense.
A far less noble/romantic hypothesis can be attributed to man's basic survival instincts. The human race has been housebound for quite some time now, but if you strip away the iPods and trendy shoes, we're basically just a bunch of animals milling around waiting for the meat. What does a lion do when faced with the plump carcass of a freshly-killed ruminant? The lion feeds. It doesn't push aside what isn't boneless or skinless or grain-fed for its enjoyment. No, the lion gorges on the ambrosial organ meats, the rich, dark viscera. Bones are crunched and salty marrow is slurped and savoured. Tender stalks of necks are mouthed and mascerated by bigger animals with bigger teeth. That is, I think, a big part of what the turkey neck means to me. It's primal. The turkey neck is my right as the animal at the top of the food chain.
Animal though I am, I cannot overlook the social aspect of the neck. I mentioned previously that my mother is a neck person, as was her mother. The neck constitutes "a moment" amongst women in my family, shared amidst the ordered pandemonium of clanging pots and rising steam of dinner preparation. I was raised in warm houses filled with the laughter of grandparents and parents, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, untold cousins and their significant others. We grew up around the communal table. We laughed and sang, told stories and danced to music scraped from fiddles and squeezed from accordians. It was a never-ending cycle of food preparation and consumption as a family unit.
I learned so much from being with my mother and my grandmother in the kitchen at our various houses. I learned more than how to prepare the food that we would share - I learned about life, about being a woman. I learned what it would mean to be a matriarch presiding with love, pride and and aching sort of joy over a boisterous, brilliant family. The joy that I took from sharing tender, salty bits of meat with these women in a kitchen filled with the smell of their love of family is indescribable. I still have that with my mother. It is precious and beautiful and delicious.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Monday, February 20, 2006
Home
There are too many good things about being home with my parents in St. John's (NF) to list in one post, so I'll just go with the top ten:
- The air smells and tastes better here
- It's cold, but not Ottawa cold
- Flannel sheets
- Fishcakes for breakfast (yummers!)
- The smell of my grandfather's Brylcreem
- My brother and sister, who are both crazy like me
- The ocean
- The streets, lanes and terraces of Old St. John's
- Normal drivers who stop to let you cross
- My parents. The best people in the world.
My next few posts will no doubt be flavoured heavily by all of the above. Be ready.
Friday, February 17, 2006
a.m.
Warm, tangled limbs. Hair tousled over eyes closed.
Lashes luscious smudges on pale cheeks. Peony
lips parted in chai-scented dreams.
Mmmmmm.
What time is it, baby?
Lashes luscious smudges on pale cheeks. Peony
lips parted in chai-scented dreams.
Mmmmmm.
What time is it, baby?
Our long lines run parallel in repose.
Mouths find hollows of throats, necks as hands skim
skin in quivering glissandi. Breath is liquid
in the shell delicacy of an ear.
Just ten more minutes,
baby.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Dinner for two
I am having dinner tonight with a man who makes me positively weak in the knees.
He makes me laugh. Uproariously. It's not everyone who can make me laugh like that.
It also bears mentioning that he is highly intelligent, extremely articulate and more worldly than most.
This is a dangerously heady combination.
Hmmm.
He makes me laugh. Uproariously. It's not everyone who can make me laugh like that.
It also bears mentioning that he is highly intelligent, extremely articulate and more worldly than most.
This is a dangerously heady combination.
Hmmm.
Monday, February 06, 2006
I believe in people
My friend/colleague/fellow blogger colouringitpurple recently posted about an experience we shared late last week ("Why don't people care just a little more?") at a local fast-food joint. The incident and fallout have been on my mind since then.
There are cold people out there. There are people who pretend not to notice as they walk past an outstretched hand. There are people who turn up their iPods or pull out a cel phone when they see a homeless person on the next block. There are people who don't hold doors or give up their bus seats for for the elderly or infirm. There are people who don't step out of line to help someone who really needs it, no matter how easy it would be to do so. It is wrong and it is sad. However, for me to sit here and pontificate and pretend that I've never been one of them would be hypocritical in the extreme. I could do more. A lot more. Everyone out there who is as well-educated, well-paid, well-housed, well-fed and able-bodied as I could do more for those among us who require assistance. It's not always about spare change. It's a steadying hand under the elbow of an elderly or disabled person on an icy sidewalk. It's a coffee or a sandwich for someone who says they are hungry. It's helping someone get a drink of water when they are thirsty. Sometimes, it is simply a smile.
I stood in line and watched my friend's face tighten and go red with shame, anger and sadness. I watched her step out of line to try and help someone who needed it. I sat across from her after and watched her cry over the injustice to which we had just borne witness. I asked her to tell me what she was feeling and I listened, meekly dunking fries one at a time. She told me that it makes her sad to see people being overlooked. She told me that it breaks her heart to see a person who obviously needs help from someone - anyone - being judged or looked down upon rather than being lifted up. She told me that she has been that person, the one who needed help but was helpless to ask. I felt humbled.
My friend is a scholar and an activist and an artist. She is fighting for social justice both at home and abroad. She is a woman with a disability - although I don't think I've met anyone more 'able' than she. I sat in that restaurant and looked at myself through her and saw a need for change.
Thank you, my friend, for making me believe in the good in people...and for taking some of the chill out of this city of ours.
There are cold people out there. There are people who pretend not to notice as they walk past an outstretched hand. There are people who turn up their iPods or pull out a cel phone when they see a homeless person on the next block. There are people who don't hold doors or give up their bus seats for for the elderly or infirm. There are people who don't step out of line to help someone who really needs it, no matter how easy it would be to do so. It is wrong and it is sad. However, for me to sit here and pontificate and pretend that I've never been one of them would be hypocritical in the extreme. I could do more. A lot more. Everyone out there who is as well-educated, well-paid, well-housed, well-fed and able-bodied as I could do more for those among us who require assistance. It's not always about spare change. It's a steadying hand under the elbow of an elderly or disabled person on an icy sidewalk. It's a coffee or a sandwich for someone who says they are hungry. It's helping someone get a drink of water when they are thirsty. Sometimes, it is simply a smile.
I stood in line and watched my friend's face tighten and go red with shame, anger and sadness. I watched her step out of line to try and help someone who needed it. I sat across from her after and watched her cry over the injustice to which we had just borne witness. I asked her to tell me what she was feeling and I listened, meekly dunking fries one at a time. She told me that it makes her sad to see people being overlooked. She told me that it breaks her heart to see a person who obviously needs help from someone - anyone - being judged or looked down upon rather than being lifted up. She told me that she has been that person, the one who needed help but was helpless to ask. I felt humbled.
My friend is a scholar and an activist and an artist. She is fighting for social justice both at home and abroad. She is a woman with a disability - although I don't think I've met anyone more 'able' than she. I sat in that restaurant and looked at myself through her and saw a need for change.
Thank you, my friend, for making me believe in the good in people...and for taking some of the chill out of this city of ours.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Out the wazoo
Some people probably think it's lame to post music lyrics and quotes and stuff, but I don't. There are times when others have just said it better. Case in point: the Stars lyrics I just posted. Delicious in a sweet/salty way. Like kissing someone who is crying.
When there's nothing left to burn...
God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said 'yes I think we've met before'
In that instant it started to pour,
Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across pont champlain
And all of the time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name...
This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
Tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in
Now you're outside me
You see all the beauty
Repent all your sin
It's nothing but time and a face that you lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose
I'll write you a postcard
I 'll send you the news
From a house down the road from real love...
Live through this, and you won't look back...
Live through this, and you won't look back...
Live through this, and you won't look back...
There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say...
(Stars, 'Your Ex-Lover is Dead')
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said 'yes I think we've met before'
In that instant it started to pour,
Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across pont champlain
And all of the time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name...
This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
Tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in
Now you're outside me
You see all the beauty
Repent all your sin
It's nothing but time and a face that you lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose
I'll write you a postcard
I 'll send you the news
From a house down the road from real love...
Live through this, and you won't look back...
Live through this, and you won't look back...
Live through this, and you won't look back...
There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say...
(Stars, 'Your Ex-Lover is Dead')
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
If / Then
I was the still one
sitting quietly
Bench-perched
Alone but not lonely.
Your smile was brilliant
You poured it over me like warm honey and
I wanted to consume you
I wanted to eat you whole
right there
in the lobby.
You are
sex and sushi
tattoos and croissants
weed/caffeine/cigarettes
books and Perl and porn and
the Internet.
That is your algorithm.
sitting quietly
Bench-perched
Alone but not lonely.
Your smile was brilliant
You poured it over me like warm honey and
I wanted to consume you
I wanted to eat you whole
right there
in the lobby.
You are
sex and sushi
tattoos and croissants
weed/caffeine/cigarettes
books and Perl and porn and
the Internet.
That is your algorithm.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition
Everyone's talking about it, so I won't bother with a lengthy regurgitation.
The Tory margin was smaller than many expected, which can be directly attributed to ass-puckering fear at the ballot box. Harper will run a watertight government until he decides to pull the plug and orchestrate another election while the Liberals are still floundering in post-Martin disarray. He'll decimate them. I give it a year.
Paul Martin did a surprisingly honourable thing last night by announcing his resignation as Leader - I'm not sure that many of his supporters were expecting it, but it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do, as a matter of fact. It's going to be a torturous Leadership race for the Grits while Paul Martin sails into the sunset under a Liberian flag (merci, Dr. J!), cackling madly while wiping his arse with wads of hundred-dollar bills.
The Bloc went down. There is simply not enough of an appetite for another referendum. Duceppe took it well, delivering a fiery, near-militant speech the likes of which we haven't heard in quite some time. We haven't seen the last of him.
The NDP did well, as expected. They are still everyone's best friend. They'll whore themselves out to the government in exchange for writing the next Budget and all will be love, peace and s'mores. On a personal note, it was intensely gratifying to see Paul Dewar kick Richard Mahoney's ass in Ottawa Centre. Buh-bye, you big frigging loser.
I spent the evening with my political junky friends, hurling insults and slanderous jibes at the many TVs and laptops strewn around the well-appointed living room of a certain residence in the Lees area. There was wine. There was cheese. There was a taco platter, the contents of which I could have easily consumed by myself, had I been alone. There was also a rousing (if slightly slurred) rendition of 'Afternoon Delight' on the back patio for which I can not be held accountable. Thanks to the hosts for doing the voodoo that they do so well, as well as to all the sexy bitches who drank, swore and pretended that they didn't notice me eating all the Mexican dip.
Good times.
The Tory margin was smaller than many expected, which can be directly attributed to ass-puckering fear at the ballot box. Harper will run a watertight government until he decides to pull the plug and orchestrate another election while the Liberals are still floundering in post-Martin disarray. He'll decimate them. I give it a year.
Paul Martin did a surprisingly honourable thing last night by announcing his resignation as Leader - I'm not sure that many of his supporters were expecting it, but it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do, as a matter of fact. It's going to be a torturous Leadership race for the Grits while Paul Martin sails into the sunset under a Liberian flag (merci, Dr. J!), cackling madly while wiping his arse with wads of hundred-dollar bills.
The Bloc went down. There is simply not enough of an appetite for another referendum. Duceppe took it well, delivering a fiery, near-militant speech the likes of which we haven't heard in quite some time. We haven't seen the last of him.
The NDP did well, as expected. They are still everyone's best friend. They'll whore themselves out to the government in exchange for writing the next Budget and all will be love, peace and s'mores. On a personal note, it was intensely gratifying to see Paul Dewar kick Richard Mahoney's ass in Ottawa Centre. Buh-bye, you big frigging loser.
I spent the evening with my political junky friends, hurling insults and slanderous jibes at the many TVs and laptops strewn around the well-appointed living room of a certain residence in the Lees area. There was wine. There was cheese. There was a taco platter, the contents of which I could have easily consumed by myself, had I been alone. There was also a rousing (if slightly slurred) rendition of 'Afternoon Delight' on the back patio for which I can not be held accountable. Thanks to the hosts for doing the voodoo that they do so well, as well as to all the sexy bitches who drank, swore and pretended that they didn't notice me eating all the Mexican dip.
Good times.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Bring out your dead!
It's Election Day, which to me is the equivalent of combining Chrismukkah/Kwanzaa, St. Paddy's Day, the May Two-Four long weekend and my birthday into one glorious, spite-filled, booze-soaked Day of Goodness.
The Paul Martin sleaze machine will be brought to the grinding, humiliating halt we've all been predicting for years. Note to The Board: You are MORONS. You deserve to lose.
The Liberal Party will get the enema (sans lube) it so desperately needs. I want my Party back, dammit!
Canada will have a Conservative government. Say what you want about them - they can't do much worse than Team Martin (those words will continue to make me throw up in my mouth for a long, long time). My advice to voters? Hold your nose and swallow quickly. You'll barely notice the taste.
Tonight, I'll be glued to the results with The Best Friend, His 'Other' and the rest of the sexy-ass political animals that comprise my peeps. Hot politics and cold vodka. There is no other way.
I'm off to my local polling station. Get yourselves out there and VOTE. I'll leave you with this inspirational tidbit from another oh-so-quotable Conservative leader:
"We've climbed the mighty mountain. I see the valley below, and it's a valley of peace. "
- George W. Bush
(insert diabolical laughter here)
The Paul Martin sleaze machine will be brought to the grinding, humiliating halt we've all been predicting for years. Note to The Board: You are MORONS. You deserve to lose.
The Liberal Party will get the enema (sans lube) it so desperately needs. I want my Party back, dammit!
Canada will have a Conservative government. Say what you want about them - they can't do much worse than Team Martin (those words will continue to make me throw up in my mouth for a long, long time). My advice to voters? Hold your nose and swallow quickly. You'll barely notice the taste.
Tonight, I'll be glued to the results with The Best Friend, His 'Other' and the rest of the sexy-ass political animals that comprise my peeps. Hot politics and cold vodka. There is no other way.
I'm off to my local polling station. Get yourselves out there and VOTE. I'll leave you with this inspirational tidbit from another oh-so-quotable Conservative leader:
"We've climbed the mighty mountain. I see the valley below, and it's a valley of peace. "
- George W. Bush
(insert diabolical laughter here)
Friday, January 20, 2006
The webs we weave
"You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that."
- Charlotte, from 'Charlotte's Web' by E.B. White
I am unbelievably fortunate in my family and friends.
Thank you to the beautiful people in my life who listen, talk, or are just 'there'.
- Charlotte, from 'Charlotte's Web' by E.B. White
I am unbelievably fortunate in my family and friends.
Thank you to the beautiful people in my life who listen, talk, or are just 'there'.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
La douleur exquise
And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky
Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...
And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial
Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...
Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?
Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...
('The Blower's Daughter', by Damien Rice)
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky
Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...
And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial
Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...
Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?
Can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you...
('The Blower's Daughter', by Damien Rice)
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Basic instinct
Where do you go when your heart leads but your head is too scared to follow?
It's survival instinct. Fight or flight. There is quicksand between the two. There is no middle ground, no safe zone. The harder you struggle, the further you become mired. Survival handbooks state that the way to get out alive is to stop struggling, stop fighting it. Stay calm. Don't move. Someone will come to your rescue.
But what if nobody is there? What if, after an eternity of sitting quietly, waiting for salvation, you realize that nobody is coming? Shouted pleas dull to hoarse whispers. Whispers become whimpers and fade to stunned silence. Night falls. The darkness swallows your frightened noises but offers no solace. Nobody is listening.
'Forever' does not exist. It is a fiction, a fairytale. 'Forever' is the space between one heartbeat and the next; it is fleeting, transient. It is a tempting myth, red and round and alluring like a ripe apple - we crave it as a means to assauge our human hungers, but beneath the perfumed skin lies galling, poisonous flesh. The taut, shiny exterior belies the rotting core. 'Forever' is a bitter fruit best left unplucked.
It's survival instinct. Fight or flight. There is quicksand between the two. There is no middle ground, no safe zone. The harder you struggle, the further you become mired. Survival handbooks state that the way to get out alive is to stop struggling, stop fighting it. Stay calm. Don't move. Someone will come to your rescue.
But what if nobody is there? What if, after an eternity of sitting quietly, waiting for salvation, you realize that nobody is coming? Shouted pleas dull to hoarse whispers. Whispers become whimpers and fade to stunned silence. Night falls. The darkness swallows your frightened noises but offers no solace. Nobody is listening.
'Forever' does not exist. It is a fiction, a fairytale. 'Forever' is the space between one heartbeat and the next; it is fleeting, transient. It is a tempting myth, red and round and alluring like a ripe apple - we crave it as a means to assauge our human hungers, but beneath the perfumed skin lies galling, poisonous flesh. The taut, shiny exterior belies the rotting core. 'Forever' is a bitter fruit best left unplucked.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Help
I want more than anything to know what I want. I want to be the one whose actions match the confidence of my words and the image I try to portray. I want to be honest. I want a happy life. I want to be loved as much as I love.
I don't want to be scared. I don't want to be angry, jealous, doubtful or bitter. I don't want to fear the future. I don't want money to matter. I don't want to be a convenient solution for someone. I don't want to be an emotional landfill for others for the rest of my life.
My tears are quiet.
I am so tired.
I don't want to be scared. I don't want to be angry, jealous, doubtful or bitter. I don't want to fear the future. I don't want money to matter. I don't want to be a convenient solution for someone. I don't want to be an emotional landfill for others for the rest of my life.
My tears are quiet.
I am so tired.
Friday, January 13, 2006
The heart of the matter
The human heart is an organ of exceeding delicacy. Yes, it's a big lump of hard-working muscle (probably wouldn't be too tasty on the eating side), but I'm talking about emotions here. Feelings. We know that emotions are essentially a series of chemical reactions which emanate from the brain. Why, then, does the heart feel hurt by emotional upheaval? That tightness, that ache...where does it come from? Why does it hurt so fucking much?
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Meat eaters
I love meat. Hunks of barely charred animal flesh, drowning in luxurious lagoons of their own velvety vital fluids. I am reduced to a slavering animal by my "meat moods." I can't get enough flesh...it's perverted, like I'm some sort of sex fiend. The thought of sinking my teeth into a dripping, squirting morsel of recently alive muscle tissue is enough to make me growl like a lioness over a freshly disembowelled gazelle. My mouth is filling with saliva as I write.
I am going out for steak with The Best Friend tonight. With him, I have no shame. He knows that this is what I have to do.
Vestigal, schmestigal - our teeth are pointy for a reason.
Rrrrrrrrrowrrrrr.
I am going out for steak with The Best Friend tonight. With him, I have no shame. He knows that this is what I have to do.
Vestigal, schmestigal - our teeth are pointy for a reason.
Rrrrrrrrrowrrrrr.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Shots fired!
Last night's second-round English debate was fun. The format was far more engaging and conducive to actual "debate". Steve Paiken of TVO did a fantastic job as moderator, asking tough, intelligent questions and poking/prodding the candidates in all the right places.
The clear winner of the evening was Stephen Harper. I hate to overuse this phrase, (Blog Parrot Syndrome, or BPS, is a problem when everyone is talking about the same thing), but Mr. Harper was looking and sounding VERY Prime Ministerial last night. He didn't rise to repeated (read: desperate) challenges issued by Martin (ie. patriotism, Notwithstanding Clause, etc). He simply shrugged them off with an air of "I don't have time for your petty mudslinging and over-the-top emotional grandstanding. Here are the facts, Canada..." Harper was completely on message all night: Liberal scandal(s)? Check. Liberal arrogance? Yessir. Liberal dishonesty? Can I get an AMEN??? He tore Martin apart on gun control/crime fighting, coming across like a very determined LEADER who is dead serious about cleaning up the streets. He managed to sidestep becoming embroiled in the unity issue in a way that didn't seem evasive - he simply let Duceppe and Martin go at it in the corner. Oh, and he has also minimized his trademark smarmy smirk, which might make it easier for Canadians to buy what he's selling. At the end of the night, the strength of Harper's performance lay in the ease with which he responded to the questions and the comfort and confidence he radiated at the podium. If you're looking for a "knock-out blow" (gah! BPS!!), I'd say that was it.
I won't go into a huge post-mortem on our current Prime Minister's performance last night, suffice it to say that the term "post-mortem" has rarely been more appropriately employed.
Martin was, again, painful to watch. He still cannot choke out a coherent, meaningful response to any issue without gratuitous use of the words "basically", "fundamentally" or "very, very important". He flaps. He flails. He stutters and stammers. He jibbers and jabbers. You've heard me go on about this before, so I won't belabour the point. On actual issues, Martin came up pretty much empty-handed. His repeated and childish efforts to trip Harper via flamboyant Charter challenges and patriotic provocations were slapped down effortlessly, leaving him looking like a total eunuch. And my God, the scandals. The scandals. Are killing. Paul Martin. His credibility is in tatters, now an open joke amongst the other Leaders. They were literally laughing at him. That ain't good on national television. All that was left for him last night was a ride on the unity train...and something tells me that that train has already left the station.
Jack Layton. Not much to say that hasn't already been said, although his continued reference to the "3rd option" and his reluctance to sell the NDP as a Party that could form a government was disappointing. A lot more people are going to vote for the Dippers this time around. They are going to see gains in lots of areas, maybe even Quebec (home of the social justice platform). This is when a Leader should ramp up the team rhetoric and make people believe that their vote will deliver their Party from the ignominy of the backbenches. It was a missed opportunity on Jack's part last night. That being said, he still delivered a solid - if not slightly grim - performance, as he has in all previous debates. His sorrowful countenance as he scolded Martin for his patent dishonesty and shocking inability to govern was as satisfying to watch as a big plate of ESD mac and cheese is to eat. Speaking of fromage, though, the way he begs the players to sit down again at the unity table is kind of funny. You can almost smell the S'mores roasting from here...
Gilles Duceppe was on fire again last night. I don't get tired of hearing the man speak in either language. There were a couple of times when he seemed to waver, but I rack it up to language issues - he always manages to get back on message. His open disgust over the "Liberal scandals" moved me to the point where I could feel my lip curling in a mirror-image snarl when he had Martin up against the ropes with "Exactly HOW many RCMP investigations are being conducted within your government?" Ouch. He is utterly unintimidated by his opponents because he doesn't give a shit which squarehead gets in, as long as he gets his referendum. That's just the way it is. And yeah, it's still tonnes of fun to watch he and Layton double-team Martin on social issues; it doesn't matter how you slice it, the Jack and Gilles Show is just plain old good times.
Ok, so can you tell that I enjoyed the show last night? It was by far the best of the campaign - I hope the same for the French debate tonight. Thanks to my 407 homies for comfy chairs, tasty treats and stimulating commentary...you are both Master Debaters. See you ce soir!
The clear winner of the evening was Stephen Harper. I hate to overuse this phrase, (Blog Parrot Syndrome, or BPS, is a problem when everyone is talking about the same thing), but Mr. Harper was looking and sounding VERY Prime Ministerial last night. He didn't rise to repeated (read: desperate) challenges issued by Martin (ie. patriotism, Notwithstanding Clause, etc). He simply shrugged them off with an air of "I don't have time for your petty mudslinging and over-the-top emotional grandstanding. Here are the facts, Canada..." Harper was completely on message all night: Liberal scandal(s)? Check. Liberal arrogance? Yessir. Liberal dishonesty? Can I get an AMEN??? He tore Martin apart on gun control/crime fighting, coming across like a very determined LEADER who is dead serious about cleaning up the streets. He managed to sidestep becoming embroiled in the unity issue in a way that didn't seem evasive - he simply let Duceppe and Martin go at it in the corner. Oh, and he has also minimized his trademark smarmy smirk, which might make it easier for Canadians to buy what he's selling. At the end of the night, the strength of Harper's performance lay in the ease with which he responded to the questions and the comfort and confidence he radiated at the podium. If you're looking for a "knock-out blow" (gah! BPS!!), I'd say that was it.
I won't go into a huge post-mortem on our current Prime Minister's performance last night, suffice it to say that the term "post-mortem" has rarely been more appropriately employed.
Martin was, again, painful to watch. He still cannot choke out a coherent, meaningful response to any issue without gratuitous use of the words "basically", "fundamentally" or "very, very important". He flaps. He flails. He stutters and stammers. He jibbers and jabbers. You've heard me go on about this before, so I won't belabour the point. On actual issues, Martin came up pretty much empty-handed. His repeated and childish efforts to trip Harper via flamboyant Charter challenges and patriotic provocations were slapped down effortlessly, leaving him looking like a total eunuch. And my God, the scandals. The scandals. Are killing. Paul Martin. His credibility is in tatters, now an open joke amongst the other Leaders. They were literally laughing at him. That ain't good on national television. All that was left for him last night was a ride on the unity train...and something tells me that that train has already left the station.
Jack Layton. Not much to say that hasn't already been said, although his continued reference to the "3rd option" and his reluctance to sell the NDP as a Party that could form a government was disappointing. A lot more people are going to vote for the Dippers this time around. They are going to see gains in lots of areas, maybe even Quebec (home of the social justice platform). This is when a Leader should ramp up the team rhetoric and make people believe that their vote will deliver their Party from the ignominy of the backbenches. It was a missed opportunity on Jack's part last night. That being said, he still delivered a solid - if not slightly grim - performance, as he has in all previous debates. His sorrowful countenance as he scolded Martin for his patent dishonesty and shocking inability to govern was as satisfying to watch as a big plate of ESD mac and cheese is to eat. Speaking of fromage, though, the way he begs the players to sit down again at the unity table is kind of funny. You can almost smell the S'mores roasting from here...
Gilles Duceppe was on fire again last night. I don't get tired of hearing the man speak in either language. There were a couple of times when he seemed to waver, but I rack it up to language issues - he always manages to get back on message. His open disgust over the "Liberal scandals" moved me to the point where I could feel my lip curling in a mirror-image snarl when he had Martin up against the ropes with "Exactly HOW many RCMP investigations are being conducted within your government?" Ouch. He is utterly unintimidated by his opponents because he doesn't give a shit which squarehead gets in, as long as he gets his referendum. That's just the way it is. And yeah, it's still tonnes of fun to watch he and Layton double-team Martin on social issues; it doesn't matter how you slice it, the Jack and Gilles Show is just plain old good times.
Ok, so can you tell that I enjoyed the show last night? It was by far the best of the campaign - I hope the same for the French debate tonight. Thanks to my 407 homies for comfy chairs, tasty treats and stimulating commentary...you are both Master Debaters. See you ce soir!
Monday, January 09, 2006
McPolitics
This weekend, I noticed a congealed puddle of puke outside of my usual morning coffee establishment. So revolting, so noisome was this heap of vomit semifreddo that not even the mangy flock of Elgin St. pigeons loitering in the area managed to rouse themselves to give it even the most cursory of pecks. At this stage of the game, the Liberal campaign can be likened to said lagoon of barf in that it: (a) stinks (b) is awful to look at, and, (c) is full of indigestible material in which nobody is interested.
The second round of Leader's "debates" airs tonight and the carnivore in me smells blood. Team Martin is hemorrhaging like a razor blade-licking hemophiliac. It would be painful to watch if the Team in question hadn't been responsible for the demise of the Liberal Party I used to know and love. They deserve to have their asses handed to them for running such a shoddy, amateur campaign. Tonight, our ill-fated PM should be riding the unity, same-sex and education issues. At this juncture, however, it seems unlikely that he will get traction on anything, plagued as he is by scandal du jour and rumoured mutiny amongst those closest to him. It is going to be nothing short of carnage tonight. The other three Leaders all have firm grips on the hammer that will certainly drive the final nail into the coffin of Team Liberal hopes for an Election Day victory.
I will be Debate Dating again tonight with my 407 Partner in Crime ("fraternizing", indeed!!) and his Trusty Sidekick (love to love him). Stay tuned for invective-laced debrief demain.
The second round of Leader's "debates" airs tonight and the carnivore in me smells blood. Team Martin is hemorrhaging like a razor blade-licking hemophiliac. It would be painful to watch if the Team in question hadn't been responsible for the demise of the Liberal Party I used to know and love. They deserve to have their asses handed to them for running such a shoddy, amateur campaign. Tonight, our ill-fated PM should be riding the unity, same-sex and education issues. At this juncture, however, it seems unlikely that he will get traction on anything, plagued as he is by scandal du jour and rumoured mutiny amongst those closest to him. It is going to be nothing short of carnage tonight. The other three Leaders all have firm grips on the hammer that will certainly drive the final nail into the coffin of Team Liberal hopes for an Election Day victory.
I will be Debate Dating again tonight with my 407 Partner in Crime ("fraternizing", indeed!!) and his Trusty Sidekick (love to love him). Stay tuned for invective-laced debrief demain.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
I heart love.
I love to see people I love in love. There is something divinely scrumptious about seeing someone who means the world to you in the throes of amour.
It's better than a ten-dollar banana split. It's better than the corner slice of cake with all the icing. It's better than pizza with gravy.
You make me smile my best smile.
It's better than a ten-dollar banana split. It's better than the corner slice of cake with all the icing. It's better than pizza with gravy.
You make me smile my best smile.
Friday, December 23, 2005
The Festivus Miracle
Happy Festivus, one and all. Bust out your aluminum poles and get ready for the airing of the grievances. Remember - it's not over until someone gets pinned.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus
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