On Multiculturalism and Self-Identity

My friend Jake Belder recently posted on nationalism and his problems with Canadian multiculturalism. I agree with him on many points. There is a danger of becoming lost if a nation becomes so tolerant that its own culture is diluted into a thin, unpalatable soup. Its hard to stand up for anything when you don't stand anywhere at all.

I disagree with him in a few other areas, however. He claims that he gets a little upset with people who live here in Canada and who hold onto the Dutch culture. Furthermore, he argues that Dutch-Canadians are holding onto a culture frozen in time and that if we truly want to reflect the motherland we should, "condone euthanasia, sell vast amounts of hard drugs, and hold an incredibly vicious prejudice against all people of Middle Eastern descent." By painting a stereotypical picture of Dutch-Canadian culture and contrasting it with a stereotypical picture of modern Dutch culture, Jake has successfully shown very little. Imagining my dear Oma selling heroin on a street corner in Port Perry was a little surreal, and I am sure she would be surprised to learn that she, like many other staunch Dutch Reformed women, is living in a mirage. The Netherlands is not the Red Light District of Amsterdam any more than Canada is a poverty-stricken reservation. Of course, I am certain that Jake had his tongue firmly in his cheek, but I am, without question, opposed to his view that me and my ilk are "preserving an illusionary culture."
I would argue that Dutch people have done quite a good job of integrating into Canadian society. At the same time, I believe that people of Dutch descent in Canada have managed to hold onto pieces of their culture that make them unique and set them apart on the beautiful tapestry of Canadian life. Some of these cultural quirks and traditions might seem a little trite, but I, for one, will never call a boiling plate of stamppot "ineptly named." Delicious is probably a better description. My Dutch heritage does not define me, but it certainly enriches my life.
I was reminded of Canada's strengths when I witnessed responses of many Americans to the display of the Mexican flag by members of the Mexican-American community. They were outraged, as if flying the Mexican flag next to the American flag was tantamount to treason. I have always loved seeing international flags being displayed in Canada and I am glad that most Canadians understand that this is normal and even inspiring. The World Cup, I believe, brings out the best in Canada. Strangers laugh along with celebrating fans in the streets and neighbours become friends as they enjoy the rich international game and share their cultures.
I have read many of Jake's complaints about the lack of a real Canadian culture, but one cannot expect a country so young to have as deep a culture as, say, Egypt or China. Nevertheless, I believe the depth of Canadian artists, writers, athletes, dancers, statesmen, musicians, and intellectuals is a testament to a remarkable developing culture. I do not think it is very helpful to search for some kind of mono-cultural norm for what it means to be Canadian. We will never be a nation of touque-wearing, beer-guzzling, maple syrup sucking, snowmobile-riding, hockey-watching donut fanatics, and thank God for that! The richest cultures are the ones that are fed by a multitude of influences. Cultural dilution is only a danger when decadence and apathy get in the way of justice and equality. When a nation turns inwards it is like a dog feasting on its own stifling regurgitation. It is better to find sustenance from the cuisine of the world.
Some of the most enthusiastic Canadians I have met would put Don Cherry to shame. They love Canada's freedom, safety, community, and tolerance --- and they go to the mosque on Friday. Don't be surprised in the next ten years as names like Muhammed, Kim, and Amuneke start gracing the backs of Canadian hockey sweaters.
I am married to a Burundian-Canadian. My children will be Canadian with Burundian and Dutch genes. I am not going to tell my children that they must cheer for the Dutch soccer team and eat peppermints in order to be considered my children, but I am certainly going to share that part of their ancestry with them. I don't expect them to be defined by this part of their culture but it certainly will enrich their lives.

1. Take the nearest book and look up page 18, line 4. What does it say?
"...encore, vagabondaient d'une mine á l'autre, mais avaient jugé profi-. . .,"
2. Reach out your arm as far as you can. What do you touch?
The end of my nose.
3. What is the latest thing you watched on TV?
A snippet of Frasier
4. Without looking, guess what time it is.
6:20. Actual time? 6:31..
5. Apart from the computer, what else do you hear?
My computer sounds like a dump truck idling, but I can hear traffic, a few French-Canadians chattering outside, and Bob Dylan singing "The Times They are a Changin'."
6. When were you last outside, and what did you do?
Walked from the car to the apartment.
7. What did you look at before you started answering these questions.
I scanned the BBC news website.
8. What are you wearing?
Black pants and a dark blue short-sleeved dress shirt with vertical stripes. I like vertical stripes because they have nice a slimming effect.
9. Did you dream last night, if you did, then what was the dream about?
I did, in fact, dream last night. I had one where I was at work watching the world cup. I don't remember anything else about it.
10. When was the last time you laughed?
Refer to number 3.
11. What is on the wall in the room you sit in right now?
A Jamaican flag overlapped by a rasta flag in turn overlapped by Bob Marley's gigantic head.
12. Have you seen anything strange lately?
I have this fingernail problem that's pretty strange looking.
13. What do you think of this challenge?
It's alright.
14. What movie have you watched most recently?
I finally watched Run Lola Run. It was quite good, but very short.
15. If you became a multi-millionaire, what would you buy?
A house. Maybe some ducks.
16. Tell something about yourself that others don't know.
I see the Parliament buildings at least twice a day.
17. If you could change ONE thing in the world, without consideration to politics and feelings of guilt, what would it be?
I would change politics and the feelings of guilt associated with them.
18. Do you like dancing?
Dancing is a beautiful art form. I suffer from a genetic predisposition to dance badly.
19. George Bush?
I don't know him personally, but he is among the worst presidents in the history of the United States.
20-21.What would you name your children, boy and girl respectively?
Johnson and Blueberry.
22. Could you consider living abroad?
I could and I do.
23. What would you like God to say to you when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
I'm sure I'll be happy as long as he doesn't yell at me.
24. Four people you would like to answer these questions?
Piet, Todd, Aaron, and Marcellin.

The Envelope

They never told him why he had been selected. The crisp manila envelope arrived with rest of his mail. On it cover, the envelope bore his address and, printed neatly in the corner, a small government insignia. He had noticed it as he rifled through his mail and he immediately knew what it was. There was the usual mail: a telephone bill, a pizza flyer, a bank statement, and then there was the obtrusive envelope. He thrust the other mail aside; it wasn't important now. He let the envelope sit on the table while he hunched over it, hands folded, contemplating this momentous article of mail. There it sat, in all its brownish-gold glory, waiting for his shaking hands to brandish the letter opener and release the contents. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Why was he nervous? After all, hadn't he known what was written in that fateful package the moment he saw it? He finally decided that he was nervous because he had no idea why he had been selected. He was a gainfully employed, middle-aged, passive, healthy, law-abiding citizen. He had never broken the law, never disturbed the peace, and never ever done anything remotely controversial. In fact, he rarely spoke at all and, when he did, he chose his words with a mundane precision that ensured that he had few conversations and even fewer friends. He was a careful man and he had done all he could to ensure that his life would leave the world as undisturbed as possible. For every decision he made, he had cautiously made certain that no ripple would be felt by anyone. He muttered anxiously under his breath, and suddenly wondered if this habit were the cause of his fate. No, that didn't seem possible. But why? Why had he been chosen? It was not random. They used a method, a system, to choose recipients. He picked the envelope up in tremulous hands: it was surprisingly light for such a heavy notice. He clutched the letter opener, carefully, but unsteadily, guiding across the top of the envelope. Then, as if it were ancient parchment, he gingerly plucked the sheet from the envelope. Finally, he read the words he had already knew were written there: "YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR OUR POPULATION CONTAINMENT PROGRAM. PLEASE REPORT TO THE PREFECT." He sighed, glanced half-heartedly at the phone, wishing he had someone to call to answer his question: why had he been chosen?

The Enemy

They attack us because of our freedom. They want to kill us because of our way of life. The reason, my friends, that they hate us is our tolerance. They are all to be suspected. They are evil and want to destroy everything that is good. They are driven by nothing less than the desire to be anti-democratic. They are nailing babies to church doors. They are slaughtering puppies in the streets. They have committed crimes against humanity. They play Rolling Stones records backwards because they enjoy Satanic lyrics. We need to fear them all. They steal carrots from Mr. McGregor's garden. They don't assimilate. I knew one, and he didn't shower regularly. They occasionally spurn the use of utensils when they eat. They kill civilians. They spill gravy on the floor and refuse to clean it up. They commit atrocities. They don't finish their brussel sprouts. They're racist. They don't stand during the national anthem. They're different. They smack their lips excessively when they enjoy their food. They are all the same. I saw one shoplifting once. They need to be rounded up. They want our deaths. Some of them don't sing in tune. Demographically speaking, they are increasing at a greater rate than us. They are known jaywalkers. They leave hair in the sink. They won't become us. They are cockroaches. We need to watch them carefully. They litter. They go to church on the incorrect day. They can't be understood. They are homegrown, organic, and pesticide-free. They sometimes forget to say thank you. They have a strong dislike for things that look nice. They vote and pay their taxes, but they're sending secret messages to the enemy. They can lip-read. They purposely swerve to hit small rodents crossing the street. See how they band together when we confront them? They forget to put the cap on the toothpaste. They watch violent movies. They drink expired milk. They have library fines. All of them hate us. They put their cd's in the wrong cases. They leave peanut butter on the counter. They expectorate in public. They don't wear their seatbelts. They remove the batteries from their smoke alarm. They are known to make mistakes. There are dandelions on their lawns. The best way to control their radicalism is to follow the old adage: "Good wedges make good neighbours."

This, according to the wise and all-knowing internet, is my worldview:

You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational. Cultural Creative 100% Postmodernist 44% Romanticist 38% Existentialist 31% Idealist 31% Fundamentalist 19% Materialist 13% Modernist 0% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

The Overwhelmingly Important E-mail

A couple of days ago I received an e-mail in my bulk folder titled "overwhelmingly important e-mail." I feel like a knave because instead of checking the contents of this e-mail, I deleted it without a second thought. I should know better, deleting an e-mail titled "overwhelmingly important" is tantamount to crossing a crosswalk when the red hand is flashing.
Lately I have been pondering what the contents of that e-mail could have been. Perhaps Yusuf had discovered some deep philosophical truth which would absolutely astonish me. A truth so profound that it would shake the foundations of Western Civilization. In other words, Yusuf may have read "The DaVinci Code" and, sleuth that he is, figured out how this historical fiction* would shatter the foundations of Western Society as we know it.
Or did Yusuf find a new code? Perhaps Yusuf had found a code cleverly hidden in the ingredients on a Cheerios box which revealed that P. Diddy did not, in fact, write all of his own lyrics. Maybe he had found a code hidden in the menu of an Indian restaurant which revealed that Siddhartha Gautama picked his nose and bit his fingernails even after reaching his supposed enlightenment. Or, quite possibly, he had learned that Van Gogh's "The Potato Eaters" was a symbolic representation of the fact that John Calvin liked to dance, drink excessively, and lie on the couch all day while contemplating his second and third baptisms.
Or, you never know, this could be the worst blog entry ever.

*historical fiction, when referring to the Da Vinci Coce, should be read as fictional history.

Classical Beatboxing

Another Place

There is a place not far from you
where the sky is the same shade of blue
where the sun rises from its eastern place
and where the moon shows the same pale face
where the grass is a similar green
and puddles provide the same dark sheen
where people awake sometime in the morning
and where gunshots are a constant warning
where corpses line every street
and fester and stink in the heat
where mothers cry for their dead
and orphans put themselves to bed
where widows cry themselves to sleep
and the bereaved are left alone to weep
where fathers bleed the soil red
on the same ground on which their sons have bled
where children gasp for some food
and peace is just an interlude
where is this place of such pain?
This horrible land of copper rain?
It is where the sky is the same shade of blue
in a place that is not far from you.

John den Boer, 2000.

Have you ever wondered what a soccer match between Japan and the Netherlands would look like in anime? Neither have I, but the result involves a lot more shouting and slow motion than I would have thought. Look out for Edgar Davids, Seedorf (?), the gigantic Jaap Stam, and Holland's saviour against the Japanese, Edwin Van der Sar.

More Boerishbwoy FAQ's


The legion of loyal Boerishbwoy readers may remember a previous post which answered some FAQs. For the uninitiated, FAQ stands for Frequently Asked Questions, and Boerishbwoy is the greatest blog in the universe. Our mailbag has been inundated with questions about the site and the mysterious and brilliant author of this wonder of the blogosphere, John den Boer. Here, finally, are some answers:

Q - I'm so sick of love songs, so sad and slow, so why can't I turn of my radio?
You may be listening to a heavy metal station or perhaps you're just lazy. Or maybe, just maybe, you like to wallow in your own love-sick misery.

Q - Why does life suck?
Life does not, in fact, suck. If life sucked it would mean that life was a vacuum. A vacuum, as any grade seven graduate knows, is the absence of matter. Since life contains matter it is not a vacuum and, consequently, we can say that life matters.

Q - How can you possibly get away with your poor logic and terrible puns?
We at Boerishbwoy are committed to the concept of logic so far as it does not infringe on our concept of truth. We are also committed to the concept of truth so far as it does not infringe on our concept of reality. Furthermore, we are committed to the concept of reality so far as it does not infringe on our concept of our own genius. As for the puns, they are actually what the Greek philosophers would call "brilliant."

Q - How do you know that the Greek philosophers would call your puns brilliant?
We asked one.

Q - One Greek philosopher can hardly be representative of all Greek philosophers, can he?
If you want to nitpick we could say that this philosopher was more of a janitor and that his nationality was more Anglo-Irish than Greek, but what good would that do the world? Let's not be anal retentive about these sort of things.

Q - How tall is John den Boer?
Nine feet, two inches.

Q - That's not possible, I saw him and he is probably only six foot one at the most.
That's a statement, not a question and so it would seem that you do not, in fact, expect an answer. Furthermore, you don't seem sure of yourself, so maybe you should check your facts or vision or possibly a combination of both of those things.

Q - How can you claim that Boerishbwoy is the most popular blog in the universe when a simple look into its daily hits clearly reveals that it ranks somewhere below the blog of a thirteen year-old from Iowa whose favourite song is "My Humps"?
We never said that Boerishbwoy was the most popular blog in the universe.

Q- You said, and I quote, "and Boerishbwoy is the most popular blog in the universe."
N-no, uh, well, listen there are soldiers who wake up every morning in Iraq wondering if today is their last day on earth and so you should know, sir, that your question is not only disengenuous but also unpatriotic.

Q - Your answer was disengenuous, wasn't it?
You don't seem sure of yourself, do you?

Q - What colour would a smurf turn if you choked it?
White.

Q - If I write an invisible question will you write an invisible answer?
No.

Q - How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
We brought this question to the big kahuna himself, John den Boer, who stated the following: "If a woodchuck could chuck wood he would probably only be able to chuck woodchips and since woodchucks are notorious for their short attention spans a woodchuck would only be able to chuck a half a shovel-full of woodchips. Unless, of course, the woodchips were blocking the entrance to its sleeping quarters, in which case the woodchuck would either dig a new hole or chuck the approximate equivalent of a five-foot-long two by four. That is, of course, if the woodchuck we are referring to is a gopher as, in some areas, woodchuck is used to denote a woodpecker. If we are, in fact, referring to a woodpecker the amount of wood works out to a much more impressive half a yard."

Q - Stare much?
Mmmm, what?

Q - Can I be your neighbour?
No.

"All the lonely people, where do they all come from?" the old man mused from his perch on the park bench.

"Where the streets have no name," his stooped friend answered glibly from beside him.

"Lonely," he sighed, "I'm so lonely, I have nobody to call my own. I'm so lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely!"

"Well, that's alright . . . that's alright for you," the friend answered sagely.

"I'm so lonesome I could cry," the old man muttered.

"Please don't worry about a thing," his friend assured him, "'cause every little thing is gonna be alright."

"How often people change, no two remain the same, why things don't always turn out as you planned," the old man paused looking at his dry dusty shoes, "These are the things I don't understand . . ."

The friend remained silently in thought and the old man suddenly added, "Yeah, these are the things I don't understand."

The friend finally spoke up, "it's all relative. Even if we don't understand, and that's well understood," he looked at the old men earnestly, "especially when we don't understand - then it's just because. Even if we don't understand then let's all just believe."

"Been dazed and confused for so long," the old man said in bewilderment and pointing his finger at his friend, he declared, "it's not true."

"Miracles can happen, when you believe," the friend offered, placing a hand on the old man's shoulder.

"Nothin' new, nothin' new," the old man sputtered, "y'all ain't saying nothin' new."

"Does my happiness upset you?" the friend asked pointedly, "Why are you best with gloom?"

"Because the sky is blue, it makes me cry," the old man answered, "because the sky is blue . . . aaaaah."

"I see clouds of blue, clouds of white, bright blessed days, warm sacred nights and I think to myself," the friend paused for a moment, "what a wonderful world."

"How can you be sitting there, telling me that you care - that you care," the old man shook his head, "when everytime I look around the people suffer in suffering in everyway, everywhere?"

"In every life we have some trouble, but when you worry you make it double," the friend said assuringly, "don't worry, be happy."

"The whole world is wrong it seems , oh, I guess it's the chains that bind me," the old man intoned darkly, "I can't shake it loose. These chains and things."

"They say freedom, oh, freedom is just another place to hide. Now I'm coming to you with my arms open wide," the friend held out his arms to embrace the old man.

"It's getting dark, too dark to see, I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door." the old man pushed his friend away grimly.

"You've gotta walk and don't look back," the friend declared, "If it's love that you're running from there is no hiding place. Just your problems, no one else's problems you just have to face."

"Sittin' here resting my bones," the old man pondered, "and this loneliness won't leave me alone."

"Everything is everything," the friend shrugged, "what is meant to be, will be. After winter, must come spring. Change it comes eventually."

"I’ve squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles," the old man grumbled, "such are promises."

"Did you exchange a walk on part in the war, for a lead role in a cage?" the friend asked in exasperation.

"But people just don't seem to understand how someone can feel so blue . . . they call me Mr. Pitiful," the old man bit a quivering lip.

"Give me one reason to stay here and I'll turn right back around," the friend stumbled to his feet and turned to leave.

"Because maybe you're gonna be the one who saves me?" the old man offered.

"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps."

It's a Difficult Burden to Carry . . .

Lest We Forget


Canadians are incensed, absolutely incensed that Parliament is petulently refusing to fly the flag at half-mast. Some see this as an effort to ignore or numb the shock of the recent deaths of four Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan. They seem to feel that if the average Canadian is walking past Parliament and the flag is at half-mast they will suddenly come to a realization of the terrible cost of war, fall on their knees and repent of their war-mongering ways. If the flag remains up, the average Canadian will walk past Parliament, assume everything is well with the world and start whistling "God Save the Queen." Canadians from across the country are assuming that Stephen Harper (or Gordon O'Connor, whom Harper judiciously delegated responsibility over the flag flap to) wants Canadians to be completely oblivious to these deaths. Of course, in order for a Canadian to be unaware of these deaths he would have to be an illiterate television-hating hermit. As much as we might romanticize illiterate hermits in our minds, we probably do not care too much about their opinion on the vertical characteristics of the Peace Tower flag anyways.
I understand the need to remember our soldiers. I think it is important to dwell on the lives that are sacrificed in defence of clear or even vague notions of justice. I, however, do not believe that Parliament should lower the flag every time a soldier is killed. Is this a contradiction, that I respect and remember Canada's soldiers and I do not think the flags of Parliament should be lowered for them? No. I agree with many veterans who feel that special gestures towards the few somehow diminishes the sacrifice of the many. I do not think that the death of a soldier today is any more heroic than it was sixty years ago. In fact, I feel that deaths of soldiers should not be merely seen as heroic but as heroic and soberingly tragic. The day for remembering the sacrifice of soldiers is November 11.
Imagine if William Lyon Mackenzie King had lowered the flag each time a soldier was killed during World War II. The flag would be at perpetual half-mast and the national psyche would be in a constant state of mourning. Of course, a certain amount of glumness is understandable during war, but it is also important to imbue the people with a sense of hope. I am not adovcating propaganda or disguising the number of fallen, but I do believe that flying the flag proudly at full mast is a direct national defiance against the often tyrannical and, yes, even evil powers you are fighting. War is a horrible time of sadness but we must grit our teeth and fight on.
Some might argue that the tragic sacrifice of the soldiers is much more important than the death of a tragically obscure Canadian politician. Why do we lower the flag for the one-term M.P. from Kicking-Horse Pass and not Pte. Johnny Canuck killed by a roadside bomb in Kandahar? Surely the sacrifice of the soldier is much more dramatic and heroic than the boring death of a dry politician, right? Maybe, but I am inclined to side with tradition. I think it is important to remember the lives of staid politicians who dedicated their lives to the political life of the country. Politicians do not have a day where everyone remembers their deaths and this is probably a good thing, as many cynical Canadians would probably make it into a party.
November 11 is the time to remember the fallen soldiers and the victims of war. I believe that the government made the right decision by respecting the legacy of past Canadian war-dead and not trumpeting the deaths of recent ones.

How many CD's do you own?
Approximately 150 including my wife's, and then about thirty burnt cd's.

What's the latest CD that you bought?
Kardinal Offishall's latest (a mild disappointment)

What's the latest piece of music that you have listened to?
Ain't Too Proud to Beg - Ben Harper diggin' on the Temptations.

Name five CD's that have made a lasting impression on you:
1) Bob Marley - Survival
2) Buju Banton - Til Shiloh
3) U2 - Joshua Tree
4) The Roots - Do You Want More!!??!!??
5) Ben Harper - Diamonds on the Inside

The Monument

Twisted Metal
bent double
distorted
contorted
glinting dully in its fra
ctu-
red,
battered and shattered
state of decrepit portions and
cont-
-ortions.
Sharp angles
rise in disconc
ertin
g
patterns of violence.

Silence

wafts uneasily from a
bent and spent
metallic jungle of
steel beams and
iron dreams.
Silver and rust
are covered in dust
as crumpled pillars embrace
in impossible directions of
affection
and warped pipes
and strangulated rods,
perforated beams
and mutilated bars
are riddled with
ugly dents and disturbing
scars
and bent
in innumerable ways
in an endless maze
of horrific agony
and confusion
of abrasions
fractures
and sha
tter
ing
contusions.

No, this noble monument
will not be described any more
for this, my friend,
this is the glory of war.

John den Boer, 2002.

Update:

- Todd and Kimberley came to my house a while back. They just wanted you to know that.

- I went to watch V for Vendetta with Phil, but they wouldn't accept my cheerios movie pass because it was a Friday.

- There is no hidden message in this blog entry.



- Groen Van Prinsterer should watch V for Vendetta.

- My infamous fingernail is still in its last throes. Now the thumbnail is succumbing to something for some reason. It must be a fungus. I feel leprous.

- C-plus Orange Burst really doesn't deliver on its promise. It tasted exactly like regular c-plus. I received absolutely no so-called "burst."

- Do you know what's ironic? A faith healer with glasses, that's what.

- I would like to add The Specials cover of Toots and the Maytals' "Pressure Drop" to my list of favourite covers if that's alright.

- I don't need to ask because this is my blog and if you don't like it you can read someone else's.

- Please stay.

- I was taught a word by one of my students. "Scrofulous" which is an adjective desribing something with scrofula (a type of tuberculosis where the neck swells up) or describing someone or something that is morally degenerate.

- In Taiwan it is the ninety-fifth year of the Republic of China.

- I have decided to correct the time on my blog.

- We miss you and love you, Linda.

- Benny Hinn is scrofulous, and he doesn't have tuberculosis.

- I have been married for almost nine months.

- Bob Marley.

- I had to mention him somehow.

- Why don't you trust me? I told you there was no hidden message and you looked anyhow. What's wrong with you?

- I hate unexpected problems with no immediately apparent solution.

- Big gulps, huh? Well, see ya later.

CSI Miami Template

- Shot of beachfront hotels from above.
- Show people doing something of slight moral reprehensibility which might just lead to a murder but actually causes them to stumble upon a corpse.
- Show CSI members examining the body, have them find something exotic or out of place.
- Show Horatio arriving and then allow a CSI member to explain something about the body.
- Zoom in on Horatio's face, allow him to put on his sunglasses and do a cute little reversal of whatever they said. For example, if the CSI member says, "she has a rock in her hand" then Horatio can say, in his halting way, "and now. death. has her. in its. hand." Or, if the distraught friend of the deceased says something like, "we were just having fun" Horatio can put on his sunglasses and say, "well, death. decided. to. have . . . her."
- After this little witticism, play whichever Who song they play at the beginning of CSI Miami and roll the opening credits.
- Begin side plot involving some kind of slightly confusing murder case.
- Allow copious shots of the inexplicable Hummers that these government workers drive.
- Ensure that there is an extended laboratory scene replete with techno music which actually makes lab work seem cool.
- Include many opportunities for Horatio to put on and take off his sunglasses while saying things very haltingly.
- Reveal some personal drama that one of the staff members is going through and show their angst.
- Try to show a shot of the beach or at least get a scene with an alligator in the show.
- There are no fat people, people over thirty-two, or ugly children at the beach in Miami, make sure these undesirables don't appear on camera.
- Whoever committed the murder acts like a real snarky jerk to the CSI staff.
- Maybe include something of CSI Miami's meta-narrative about the psychopath who has an axe to grind with Horatio and the girl he's protecting, although it is not strictly necessary.
- Only one of these rules may be broken per episode.

The Prophet

The man who called himself Moses
led his people past the promised land
and the prophet cried, "come,
eat manna from my hand!"
and he offered them dirt
although they needed bread
and he made them believe
that they were well-fed
Moses put up his arms and said
"I am. Come follow me,"
and the people followed
to the dark-shadowed valley
When people were sick
Moses left them on the path
"the righteous are never ill
it's a sign of God's wrath."
Moses sought more people
for his exclusive clan
and so he gathered the young
for they trusted this man
Moses raised up his staff
and struck the rock with rage
and cried out in a loud voice
"I am. I free you from your cage!"
Moses was pleased with the people
for they truly sought the Lord
and Moses gathered his tithe
and placed it with his hoard
He split father against son
and mother against daughter
and he declared, "You are
the clay, I am the potter."
Then Korah, Dathan, and Abiram
raised their voices and rebelled
and Moses, righteous Moses
had those men expelled
Anger stirred against him
for his ways were unjust
but Moses did not fear
his heart had turned to dust
The man who called himself Moses
sits upon a corroded throne
but he is in the path
of a rolling stone.

John's Favourite Covers

I've Got Dreams to Remember - Toots and the Maytals covering Otis Redding's classic.
Respect - Aretha Franklin steals Otis Redding's song and no one remembers who sang it first.
No Woman No Cry - The Fugees cover Bob Marley and then they do a version with Stephen Marley that is simply awesome.
Killing Me Softly - Lauryn Hill covers Roberta Flack.
Imagine - A Perfect Circle covers John Lennon's anthem for the obtusely idealistic and the result is kind of cool.
Wonderwall - Ryan Adams does a superb cover of the Oasis hit.
Proud Mary - Ike and Tina Turner redoing CCR.
Bridge Over Troubled Water - Aretha Franklin covers Simon and Garfunkel.
Wish You Were Here - Wyclef covers Pink Floyd.
High Tide or Low Tide - Jack Johnson and Ben Harper cover Bob Marley.
Strawberry Fields Forever - Ben Harper coversthe Beatles.
Police and Thieves - The Clash covers the Junior Murvin/Lee Perry classic.
Light My Fire - Aretha's sister, Erma, redoes the Doors.
Subterranean Homesick Blues - Sizzla Kalonji covers Bob Dylan.
Amazing Grace - Not really a cover, right? Wrong, because the Blind Boys of Alabama sing it to the tune of "House of the Rising Sun."
Hotel California - The Gypsy Kings cover the Eagles.
One Love/ People Get Ready - Bob Marley remakes Curtis Mayfield.
Ain't Too Proud to Beg - Ben Harper covers the Temptations.
Fortunate Son - Wyclef Jean dares to cover CCR.
Untold Stories - Sinead O'Connor, yes Sinead, covers Buju Banton and does a surprisingly good job.
Lonely People - Talib Kweli remixes the Beatles' Eleanor Rigby and it's nice. The album version is not nearly as good.
Hurt - Johnny Cash covers NIN and turns a song about drugs and self-destruction into a tribute to his wife without changing the words.
99 Red Balloons - Goldfinger outdoes Nena.
Bad Fish/ Boss DJ - Jack Johnson reinterprets Sublime.
Mama Africa - Buju Banton covers Peter Tosh.
Mrs. Robinson - Okay, they're corny, but the Lemonheads do a neat cover of Simon and Garfunkel.
I Shot the Sheriff - Eric Clapton covers Bob Marley.
Gin and Juice - This is more of a joke because I don't like either version, but a honky version of Snoop Dogg's Gin and Juice by the Gourds is funny to me.

How many books do you own?
Enough . . . but not really.

What book is your latest purchase?
*Sigh* I love books but I have not purchased one in about half a year and even then, it was a gift for my wife. "The Upside Down World of Vikram Lal" was the title, I believe. The last book that I purchased was "Papillon" which was alright, but its exaggerated, self-centred and grandiose storytelling reminded me of "A Million Little Pieces" by that notable truth-stretcher, James Frey.

What book have you most recently read?
In its entirety: Buzzing Flies, an eight page book about an annoying fly.
Right now I'm reading: A book of African History in French (struggling)
The Drama of Scripture
Mere Christianity

Name five great books with impact on you:

1) King Leopold's Ghost
2) The Lord of the Rings Trilogy
3) Les Miserables
4) Creation Regained
5) Six War Years

Who do you challenge to answer these same questions?
Suzanne, Rachel, and Christina den Boer. Karen and Clint Langelaar, Jono or Janice Barnhoorn, Becky and Rod Snoek and any other relatives out there.

Oh, and the Garth Street crew and Piet Harsevoort (nefarious cackle)

Hummingbird

Hummingbird don't fly away - B.B. King.

Mr. Samson was a stern old man. He was not crotchety, but he was not cheerful either. Mr. Samson was stern. He considered life to be far too serious to waste smiles on trivial matters and, as far as he was concerned, most things in life were trivial. This was the reason he was upset today and when stern old men are upset they are, by definition, crabby. He had wasted what he felt was an indulgent smile on a hummingbird of all things. Hummingbirds, he muttered to himself, are nervous little pissants and the little buggers are far too colourful to be considered anything but asinine.
He strode along the sidewalk, sternly observing the beautiful summer weather with a clinical air. The apple blossoms are fluttering to the ground, no doubt encouraged by the warm southerly breeze, he noted grimly. He stopped briefly to listen to the warbling notes of a mourning dove, merely out of scientific curiousity. Science, he reassured himself, is a serious matter.
Mr. Samson gave a polite but serious nod to a friendly, albeit overly-happy, passerby and continued on his way. Three small children, giggling and whooping, ran without any seeming purpose in a series of circles in the long grass of a large front lawn. Mr. Samson shook his head with what he thought was stern disapproval but actually appeared to be more wistful than condemnatory.
Children these days, he told himself, need more purpose and direction. They needed the sort of purpose and direction he himself had. He never went anywhere without a reason. Mr. Samson picked up his pace as he strode purposefully to . . . where? Mr. Samson faltered, what had been his purpose? He frowned deeply, unable to find the answer as his steps slowed. Why had he gone outside? He stopped completely as the answer dawned on him.
The hummingbird.

Some Random Thoughts on Seal Hunting














Seals, they are creatures you don't see everyday. When the tour guide yells out their name in French it is rather amusing to adolescent boys and immature newlyweds. If you saw a seal crossing the street you would probably point it out with something approaching excitement. Now, imagine that you were an Inuit hunter or an East Coast fisherman and you saw them almost every day. Here, to illustrate I've copy and pasted some propaganda from the IFAW (International Fund for Animal Welfare) website and substitued squirrel for seal:

"Hundreds of thousands of baby squirrels will be clubbed or shot without mercy this year alone—an annual squirrel slaughter subsidized by the Canadian government.

95% of the squirrels killed are less than 3 months old. Many will be left to die under the ice . . . some baby squirrels may even be skinned alive

The majority of Canadians oppose the squirrel hunt, but are forced to pay for it.
Hunting squirrels is not justified by economic or environmental reasons. It’s driven by votes.

Scientists agree that the size of this hunt puts the squirrel population at risk."

Did that tug at your heartstrings? I hope not. Seals aren't endangered . . . kind of like cows.

Is it just me or does it make absolutely no sense to say that the majority of Canadians oppose the seal hunt and then come out and say that the hunt is entirely driven by votes? I mean, Canada is democratic, right?

Wrong. According to Morrissey, formerly of the Smiths, Canada is currently up there with China as the "cruellest and most self-serving nation." Morrissey is calling for a boycott of all Canadian products, because, you know, all of us are out there on the ice clubbing baby seals. As for the fisherman who earn money hunting seals? "Construction of German gas chambers also provided work for someone - this is not a moral or sound reason for allowing suffering."

Rant time. I am disgusted with these people who continually compare animal hunts to genocides and the Holocaust. People like this are the same ones who raved for the protection of the gorillas in Rwanda while hundreds and thousands of people, of human beings, were being slaughtered. I honestly have only one thing to say to the people who consider animals to be on the same level as humans: You are absolutely ridiculous. To compare an Inuit fisherman to a Nazi is completely, horrendously, and monumentally imbecilic. To compare a seal to a Jew is ineffably beyond that.

If animals are to be held to the same standards as humans then we must mobilize quickly to stop preying mantises from consuming their young and these absolutely barbaric wolves from consuming caribou. In fact, on the subject of seals, we should start growing kale to feed to them so that they don't slaughter all of these innocent herring. Seals really need to be incarcerated for that sort of behaviour.

More Familial Bloggers

Well, there are more people in my family who are blogging. First, my sister Suzanne den Boer who doesn't feel she has any insights but has already proven herself wrong. Second, an unknown sister of mine who isn't on my sidebar and isn't named Linda and who will remain nameless until she no longer desires the condition of anonymity. In fact, I will not even tell you where her blog is because it is a secret and she deserves privacy and she probably already moved to another location.

I have five sisters, in case you were wondering.

Oh, and for no particular reason, here's a picture of the the Incredible Hulk:

Ben Harper: Both Sides of the Gun


As many people know, a gun has two ends, or sides, as Harper prefers to call them. The implication of being on both sides of a gun is that you are not only aiming the gun at someone but also having the gun aimed right back at yourself. Harper's album Both Sides of the Gun contains one white cd of mellow emotionally vulnerable songs and one black cd of harder up-tempo revolutionary songs i.e. both sides of a gun. Of course, the temptation to view the album as two separate offerings has proven too strong for some reviewers who forget that the album is two sides (cd's) of the same gun (album). Both cd's contain nine tracks which as any music aficionado, unless they're some kind of heedless vinyl fan, knows, can usually fit quite comfortably onto one cd. Harper's decision is a creative choice, not an attempt to glut his album with an overabundance of tracks.

Harper has been around since his first solo album, Welcome to the Cruel World caught the attention of a few fans in 1994. Since then, Harper's honest lyricism, genre-breaking experimentation and masterful musicianship has gained him a loyal following. Anyone who has seen a live Harper concert (or, in my case, a concert DVD) with his talented band, the Innocent Criminals, can testify that Harper's talent is not the slick mixing-board magic the world has grown so accustomed to these days but is the actual sound of a real band playing *gasp* actual music.

Harper's previous album, Diamonds On the Inside was criticized by some as being far too polished and perhaps as a reaction to this the album has a more raw and earthy feel to it. The white cd, which faces the metaphorical barrel of the gun, contains symphonic strings and acoustic guitar while the black cd, which holds the metaphorical handle of the gun, has more drums and electric guitar. Of course, this is a simplistic interpretation, as the highly eclectic Harper's love for music crosses the boundaries of genres from rock to jazz to funk to reggae to the blues. Indeed, Harper recently recorded the Grammy-winning There Will Be a Light with the Blind Boys of Alabama. Few musicians could move from gospel to an albums such as this with such ease as the maverick Harper does.

The first cd is the mellow Harper, the surfing Californian, the introspective poet, the existentialist, and the friend of Jack Johnson. The album opens with "Morning Yearning", a pleasant opening for a solid set. Next is "Waiting for You" a great song somewhat reminscent of Harper's awesome "Amen Omen" from Diamonds on the Inside. The cd continues with the slow pace which is held in place by Harper's soulful vocals and the soaring combinations of string quartets, guitar, bass and percussion. On the sedond-last track "Cryin' Won't Help You Now", Harper gives the Eccesiastical meaningless speech with the lyrics "Now your poets, Have all put down their pens, The only songs to sing, Are those sung again, Lonely just doesn't, Look good on you somehow . . ." For the sentimentalist Harper fortunately ends on a positive note with "Happy Everafter In Your Eyes," an ode to his soulmate, Laura Dern (?).

The second cd is the revolutionary Harper, the left coast activist, the fist-in-the-air protesting hippie, and the Peter Tosh fan. Green Day should be taking notes because this is how a real protest album sounds. In other words, you don't need to use saran wrap for your veiled references because intelligent fans understand subtlety. The cd opens with the sounds of the Middle East on "Better Way", a raw cut which effectively mixes Harper's Weissenborn with the Tambura. The title track "Both Sides of the Gun" is a funk-infused cut which doesn't just criticize the war but also reveals Harper's own confusion with the war: "Living these days is making me nervous, Archaic doctrine no longer serve us, Now we're left as silent witnesses, We don't know quite what this is, Other than a war that can't be won . . . One dimensional fool, In a three dimensional world. Politics, it's a drag, They put one foot in the grave, And the other on the flag . . . Living on both sides of the gun." Harper also angrily criticizes the response to Hurricane Katrina on the excellent "Black Rain" which ends with the revolutionary lyrics: "It won't be long 'till the people flood the streets, And take you down one and all, A black rain is gonna fall."

Both Sides of a Gun is an excellent album which I believe shows that Harper is not just another musician but on his way to becoming a legend.

Hmmm, I can post but I can't see my blog. It really doesn't seem fair. I hope this is temporary.

I am Redeemer Propaganda


Imagine my surprise when I saw my face on the cover of some Redeemer literature. Imagine my further surprise when I found a request for a donation which came along with this literature. Alright, Redeemer, I'm a generous person and so I'll allow you to use my beautiful face on all of your literature and you can consider that your donation. Then, if you start paying to use my chiselled face on all of your tracts, maybe then I will consider giving you a donation --- that is, once your payments have exceeded my tuition.

Either that, or I'll start donating when I'm a bored old philanthropist hoping for a "John den Boer Memorial Lecture Hall."

Another Family Blogger . . .

The blogging world has expanded once more and this time it has added my sister Christina. Welcome to the blogger world, Christina.

Hitler and Religion

There are few so universally detested figures in history as Adolf Hitler and that is probably the reason why people debate his religion so dramatically. Many atheists like to smugly assert that Adolf Hitler was a Christian and then watch their red-faced Christian friends explode in apoplectic rage. At the same time, many Christians insist that Adolf Hitler was an atheist and then further assert that Hitler's atheism was the very force that propelled him to commit all of his horrible atrocities.

I submit that when atheists try to argue that Hitler was a Christian it is based on a fundamentally flawed understanding of both history and Christianity. On the other hand, when Christians claim that atheism drove Hitler's insanity it is not only a flawed position but also a position which will garner them few atheistic friends and likely won't promote the foundation for dialogue which Christians are supposed to be open to.

Atheists enjoy quoting Hitler's speeches and writings in their attempt to prove that Hitler was, indeed, a Christian. They forget that when they do this they are quoting a man who was a master of manipulation. Germany was a nation full of Christians and in order to deceive these people, Hitler had to use the language of Christianity. When Hitler made speeches which referenced Christ or Christianity he wanted to appeal to the masses. Hitler could not have stirred a crowd, however brilliant his oratory, if he had screamed, "You see, its been our misfortune to have the wrong religion. Why didn't we have the religion of the Japanese, who regard sacrifice for the Fatherland as the highest good? The Mohammedan religion too would have been more compatible to us than Christianity. Why did it have to be Christianity with its meekness and flabbiness?!" (Quoted by Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich, pg. 115) or if he had shouted, " . . .Christianity is not a natural religion for the Germans, but a religion that has been imported and which strikes no responsive chord in their hearts and is foreign to the inherent genius of the race!" (13th February 1945, The Political Testament of Adolf Hitler).

Adolf Hitler was a Christian in the same way that a carpet salesman "absolutely loves" his potential customer's hideous wallpaper. Not only did this carpet salesman hate the wallpaper but he fully intended on letting the flimsy stuff quickly peel off the wall. In other words, Hitler was only a Christian by Machiavellian convenience.

Hitler convinced his countrymen he had the best interests of Germany in mind. Hitler convinced Stalin to make peace with him and he convinced Europe that he had no intentions to fight. Hitler convinced idealists, including Canada's Mackenzie King, that their appeasement would sate his appetite. How did Hitler convince all of these people? By lying. Hitler was a masterful liar which any person only slightly familiar with his life will know. The question is why some people can see these lies and manipulations, but not Hitler's deceitful Christianity. Hitler was as much a Christian as a pig is a flower. The image is ridiculous, but it shows how remarkably devious the master con-man had to be in order to make his gigantic hog's rump smell like a daisy.

Sure, Hitler had personal beliefs that Christians share with him. However, Hitler was only a Christian so long as Jesus wasn't a Jew, so long as Jesus was the bastard son of a Roman soldier, so long as all of Paul's gospels were ignored, so long as the fundamental belief of Christianity in the equality of mankind was eliminated, so long as Christianity was separated from its historic roots and fitted into his twisted nationalism. Hitler denied early Christianity as corrupted by Paul, the Jew, and blamed the religion for the collapse of Rome. Hitler might fit into a Unitarian definition of Christianity, but so do Wiccans (who, incidentally, are also not Christians.)

Hitler's twisted beliefs were far from Orthodox Christianity and his heresy should have alarmed his countrymen. Although Hitler pined for the days of Wotan and noble German barbarism, he ultimately wanted to replace Christianity with National Socialism. This did not mean persecuting Christians because Hitler felt that Christianity had such a soft flaccid underbelly that it would eventually die of natural causes. National Socialism with its psuedo-scientific reason, inequality and dominance of the Aryan race would prevail and the Third Reich would rule for a thousand years.

Atheism is problematic in that it is humanly impossible to be an atheist. Humans, by nature, must worship something and as much as so-called atheists deny worshipping anything, there is always something they venerate. No, Hitler was not a Christian but neither was he an atheist. Atheists, by definition, deny the existence of God or gods. Hitler did not deny the existence of God just as long as he could define exactly what God is and thereby make an idol in the form of the German nation. Hitler was neither a Christian nor an atheist, he was a Nazi.

Still, atheists do have ammunition when it comes to the topic of Nazism and Christianity. Christianity in Germany did appear to be the weak easily- manipulated superstitious religion that Hitler believed it to be. So-called Christian men supported the little dictator and the church that whould have opposed him barely offered a squeak of protest. Men and women adapted to the nationalist religion with a syncretistic fervour that would have made King Ahab blush. The passivity and outright collaboration is shameful and can only, in my mind, be alleviated by looking at the few examples of Christian fortitude in the German nation.

All of Hitler's speeches which spoke about God? Resounding gongs and clanging cymbols, nothing more.

Update:

- The entry on Buju Banton at the little (and by "little" you should read massively oversized) online encycopedia, wikipedia, would have had you believe that this reggae icon is a professional homophobe who occasionally sings songs.

- I added my input and now the entry provides a little more biographical and musical information.

- Wikipedia also includes Dave Matthews on its lists of African Americans. He hails from South Africa and I am guessing that he is now an American, but the man is a Caucasian.

- Caucasian sounds like an insult, but not as insulting as Caucasoid.

- Caucasoid sounds like a some kind of eighties video game Nickelback used to spend all the dimes they made on.

- Caucasoid does not sound nearly as insulting as Negroid or, the absolute worst one, Mongoloid.

- By October 23 next year, I will be an uncle. My oldest sister Karen and my brother-in-law Clint are expecting a child!

- Mmmm, how do I follow that little bullet with the usual trivial bullshit I talk about?

- I like sour cream and onion chips.

- Our car is costing us far too much money.

- Aaron and Erica are coming this weekend . . . right, Aaron?

- Dave Chappelle has excellent taste in music, with the possible exception of Kanye West who is a egocentric mountain of arrogance, albeit a talented one.

- Dead Prez is a little to revolutionary for this Caucasoid as well.

- The pipes at our house froze the weekend my parents and sisters visited, but then the heat started working.

- By "working" I mean "subjecting the entire house to a sweltering tropical atmosphere of ridiculous humidity."

- I have been going to a Bible Study where we discuss C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity. One of the best parts is Chris Crookall's humourous commentary.

- Some day, when I can find the humour in the situation, I will write an entry on the money pit that is better known as "Mallory" aka our 1998 Chevy Malibu.

- I like the sound of Tonton John and Tantine Laurianne. Our nephews and nieces are bound to love us just because of our titles.

- I had a dream where Laurianne and I conspired with the professor from Futurama and we blew up a community bank after stealing the money and planting fake bodies in it and then settled in a ridiculously expensive South Pacific Island.

- Apparently, Marcellin was at the theatre when I saw Dave Chappelle's Block Party, but I missed him.

- Remember the Polkaroo? Why didn't they let the male co-host see him . . . just once?

- I'm hungry.

- I feel like eating Hawaiian Pizza.

- My feet smell.

Of Apple Trees and Graffitti

Mr. Milsum was not well-liked. Although he was a bit of a misogynist and occasionally uttered opinions which were considered politically incorrect, he was not a bad man. Mr. Milsum thought of the world in relatively simple terms most of the time. In his youth he had been particularly zealous and intellectually advanced for his age, but his intellectual pursuits were now stunted for the most part. His ways were mysterious to a lot of those in his neighbourhood and when they watched the way some of his progeny handled themselves, they assumed that their fanaticism, short tempers, and in-fighting were traits that belonged to Mr. Milsum as well. Mr. Milsum had decent relations with most of his neighbours, but a couple members of his extensive clan were known to cause trouble around the neighbourhood.

One of his neighbours, Mr. Acirema, was enraged when one of Mr. Milsum's particlarly delinquent children purposely burnt down his garden shed. "I don't blame the Milsums, their family is usually very peaceful," he said in his bombastic way, "My daughter-in-law is a Milsum, and I love her." Of course, he secretly kept a closer eye on that daughter-in-law by evesdropping on her phone conversations as much as possible. "It's my house," he reasoned, "and I need to protect my children from possible arsonists."

As for the delinquent, it was this same delinquent whom Mr. Acirema had hired to trample the vegetables in the ever-expanding garden plot of the Naissur family. "That Mr. Naissur went beyond his alloted boundary!" Mr. Acirema insisted, as he claimed that particular area of the community garden for himself. Of course, that was when the Naissur's were Mormons. They now professed to be Presbyterians even though the suspicious Mr. Acirema felt he occasionally detected Mormonish behaviour in his neighbour. Nevertheless, they were not Mormons anymore and Mr. Acirema felt he could now trust them. Most of the neigbourhood had forgotten about the epic garden war and now the entire neighbourhood was sympathetic with the Aciremas over the garden-shed arson and even approved when Mr. Acirema toppled down the Milsum's ugly apple tree which had been producing nothing but rotten apples for about two years.

"What an eyesore that was," the neighbourhood agreed. Opinion was divided on whether the new tree which Mr. Acirema had planted would take root. There were a lot of little Milsums rough-housing around the little tree and it had already lost more than a few branches. Mr. Acirema would angrily berate the children by shaking his big fist and cuffing a few of the children before they hid from his righteous wrath. Mr. Acirema swore that he would find the delinquent who had destroyed his shed, but made little effective effort in apprehending the little felon.

Of course, opinion was more divided when Mr. Acirema tried to insist that Mr. Milsum's cousin, the wife-beating Mr. Qari, had been party to the arson. Mr. Milsum, to his credit, made an effort to appeal to the United Neighbourhood Committee, but his arguments and outright lies did little to convince his neighbours of the justice of his vendetta against Mr. Qari. When Mr. Acirema threw some eggs at Mr. Qari's house and angrily confronted the brute, it resulted in Mr. Qari receiving a severe beating which drove him from his home. Many members of Mr. Qari's household were secretly happy and Mrs. Qari, encouraged by Mr. Acirema, was already courting new suitors. Mr. Qari insisted that his wife still loved him but Mr. Acirema petulently refused to let him see her. There were even rumours that Mr. Acirema intended to bed her himself. Meanwhile, the Qari family fought among themselves over the suitability of Mrs. Qari's various suitors.

And of course, Mr. Acirema conveniently forgot the time he had recruited Mr. Qari in his effort to have Mr. Allotaya, Mr. Milsum's nephew, evicted from his home. Mr. Acirema's memory was a delicate thing. He could wax eloquently on his triumphs and greatness but remained frustratingly forgetful when it came to the clashes he had experienced with his neighbours.

Some of the neighbourhood gossips whispered that Mr. Acirema had manufactured the entire incident as a stepping-stone to further his access to Mrs. Qari's delicious potatoes in the community garden. Furthermore, they reasoned, what better way for him to get to those potatoes but by cutting down the ugly apple tree which had formerly blocked his access. From these conspiracies came more conspiracies, each one more ridiculous than the last. Mr. Acirema, one gossip not known for her intelligence insisted, burnt down his own garden shed just so he could chop down that apple tree and get access to those potatoes. Few people took her seriously, except for a few members of the Ecnarf family. Of course, the Ecnarfs loved to scoff arrogantly at the political manoeuvring of the Aciremas while ignoring their own indiscretions. The whole neighbourhood had been aghast when some of the grandchildren of the Ecnarf clan, who were related to the Milsums, had angrily vandalised the Ecnarf garden after being confronted with some particularly nasty familial favouritism.

Mr. Milsum was not well liked. His niece, Yekrut, had been grudgingly accepted into the West Block's Knit Club but more than few of the club's members grumbled about her unpopular opinions and the way her children seemed to disrespect the neighbourhood customs. "As a matter of fact," complained old man Eporue as he knit another one-size-fits-all asexual sweater, "all of those little Milsums really don't have a lot of respect for our ways."

Kramned Eporue's son, one of old man Eporue's many grandchildren, decided to take action. He was tired of the way the Milsum family kept insisting that the neighbourhood needed to accept their ways and so, in big red letters, he sprayed the words "MR. MILSUM'S MOTHER WAS A TWO-BIT PROSTITUTE" on an empty wall. It didn't take long for many of the Milsum clan to get riled at such an underhanded insult and soon there were little Milsum children gathered on their lawns hurling acorns at Kramned's car. Kramned hadn't written the graffitti himself and tried to explain that to the young Milsums, but he was answered with a hail of insults. Although Mr. Learsi and Mr. Acirema had nothing to do with the graffitti it was not long before their cars were targetted as well. This, of course was the Milsum custom, because experience had taught them, rightly or wrongly, that if there was a problem it was likely the Learsis or the Aciremas who had caused it.

A few of the wiser Milsums urged their children to behave themselves, but their suggestions fell on deaf ears. Matters became worse when a few neighbours decided to broadcast the graffitti's contents on megaphones from their front porches. This made the Milsum children even more enraged and the acorns flew with dizzying fury, but little accuracy.

"See," a few neighbours said, "that graffitti was necessary, look at the way those little buggers are reacting."

"I don't know," others countered, "the graffitti is a little disrespectful."

"What about when a couple of those little Milsums sprayed the word "DUMBO" on Mr. Acerima's driveway?" others argued with self-satisfaction.

"The Milsum's don't consider that as insulting," was the reply.

"Well, I certainly do," they insisted, "I know my children would never throw acorns if my mother was called a whore."

"You and your mother are estranged, aren't you?"

"That's not the point. The point is that these little Milsums are not mature and therefore we should be broadcasting the words of this graffitti from our fronch porches."

"So, because they're immature, we should be too?"

"You know what I mean."

The Hidden Blog Entry

Welcome to the hidden blog entry. Basically, this is an entry that you can't see. This means that this entire entry is addressed to an audience of none. I suppose, though, that the author can be counted as the entire readership. The readership of one, if you will. Oh, and I know you will because you're me and I can read your thoughts because, well, they're mine.

Of course, a hidden blog entry is merely hidden and not invisible which means that there is the possibility of finding the entry. This means that there is not, in fact, an audience of one but an audience of n.

Still, one must consider the interest factor: few blog readers would take enough interest in this blog to try to search for a hidden entry, especially if the very existence of this blog entry is unknown. Thus, the readership is back to one and the author can safely argue that this particular blog entry is one which is only known to himself. This opens up a whole new realm of possiblities in terms of topics. There needs to be no concern about offending the sensibilities of the audience, neither does there need to be a concern about proper grammar, punctuation, or spelling basicaly this hole entree ken bee whutevver eye want it 2 be.

For instance, I can switch between first person singular and third person singular as I have been doing without worrying about the propriety of my decision. The author doesn't even have to worry he is using the word "propriety" correctly. Also, I can say that I despise Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" without stirring up the sensitivities of my emotionally vulnerable friend, Aaron Gysbers. Why? Because he can't be offended by what he can't see. This brings me to the question of my hidden thoughts. Are these thoughts less offensive because no one but myself can see them? After all, cancer is just as harmful when it remains a malignant growth hidden in your stomach as when it is quite obviously protruding from your mouth. Of course, the secret thought which asserts that Aaron's attachment to a smarmy Celine Dion song is rather pathetic is a fairly benign one. That is, it is benign until you see the way this six foot five math major starts weeping at the opening notes of the song. Of course, this is assuming that this entry will work; that it will actually be hidden. If this entry isn't hidden and its contents remain exposed for all to see then I will have to reconsider the whole entry and I would appear far less clever than I presently feel. We'll see what happens. Oh, and if you can see this, write the words "hound dog" in your comment.

Spot the Dutch Proverbs (click the picture to enlarge it, unless you want a challenge):

Thanks to Bvo I have made this post a little more clear. I found a website that listed the proverbs found in this picture, most of which I have listed here. Now see if you can find them:

"He runs his head against a stone wall"

"There the roof is tiled with tarts" (a land of plenty; a fool's paradise;)

"He has toothache behind his ears"

"Throwing roses before pigs."

"He is a pillar-biter" (a religious hypocrite)

"Big fish eat little fish"

"He is pissing against the moon"

"It depends on the fall of the cards."

"They both shit through one hole"

"It hangs like a privy over a ditch"

"He tosses feathers in the wind"

"One shears sheep, the other pigs"

"The world upside down"

"Two dogs over one bone seldom agree"

"He is looking for the hatchet" (an excuse)

"The world dances upon his thumb"

"Leave at least one egg in the nest"

"They pull to get the longest end"

"The pig is stabbed through the belly"

"To shoot all one’s bolts"

"To marry under the broomstick"

"He who has spilt his porridge cannot scrape it all up again"

"She carries fire in one hand and water in the other"

"He does not care whose house is on fire as long as he can warm himself at the blaze"

"One winds on the distaff what the other spins"

"To get the lid on the head" (to have to pay for the damages)

"To fry the whole herring for the sake of the meat"?

"She puts the blue mantle on her husband"

"He falls from the ox onto the ass"

"He carries the day out in baskets"

"He catches fish with his bare hands" (this shrewd fellow profits from the work of others by taking fish out of the nets which they have cast)

"Bow and scrape if he is to get on in the world."

"The herring hangs by its own gills"

"He holds a candle to the devil" (to make friends in all quarters)

"He plays on the pillory"

"Who knows why geese go barefoot?"

"He looks through his fingers" (he can afford to be indulgent because he is sure of his profit).

"They lead each other by the nose" (they are tricking each other).

"He confesses to the devil"

"She would bind the devil himself to a pillow."

"Fools get the best cards"

"He hangs his cloak according to the wind."

"There hangs the knife" (a challenge)

"He fills the well after the calf has drowned (measure taken only when an accident has occurred"

"There stand the wooden shoes" (to wait in vain)

"He wipes his arse on the door"

"Where the gate is open, the pigs will run into the corn"

"He carries a burden"

"He throws money into the water"

"The die is cast" (it is decided).

"Here the sow pulls out the stopper"

"He cannot bear to see the sun shine on the water"

"It is ill to swim against the stream"

"He sees bears dancing"

"He shits on the gallows"

"He falls through the basket" - rejected suitor

"She gazes at the stork"

"He ties a flaxen beard to the face of Christ"

"He shits on the world"

"He keeps his eye on the sail"

"To sit between two stools in the ashes"

"The hen-feeler" (“To count one’s chickens before they are hatched”)

"It is growing out of the window"

"He can barely reach from one loaf to the other"

"To shave the fool without lather"

"There the scissors hang out" (symbol of pickpocketing: a place of cheating and fleecing)
"No one looks for others in the oven who has not been there himself"

"He who eats fire. shits sparks"

"It is healthy to piss on the fire"

"He holds the eel by the tail"

"To put a spoke in someone's wheel"

There's a new blog in town . . .
Welcome to the blogosphere, Karen and Clint.

I haven't been tagged, but this looked like fun:

Four Jobs I Have Had-
- Delivering newspapers
- Working with flowers and trees at a nursery
- Cutting grass in neighbourhoods and at a golf course
- Teaching ESL

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over-
- City of God
- Braveheart
- Crash
- The Godfather

Four Books I Could Read Over and Over-
- The Covenant - James A. Michener
- The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien
- The Power of One - Bryce Courtenay
- The War in 2020 - Ralph Peters (not even a great book, but it entertains me)

Places I Have Lived-
- Owen Sound, ON
- Hamilton, ON
- Ottawa, ON
- Gatineau, QC

Four Places I Have Been On Vacation-
- B.C.
- East Coast of Canada
- Florida
- Charlevoix and Quebec City (honeymoon)

Four Websites I Visit Daily-
- crooksandliars.com
- bbc news
- dictionary.com
- wikipedia.org

Four Favourite Foods-
- Hawaiian Pizza
- Hamburgers
- Sour Cream and Onion Ripple Chips
- Cold Raspberry Yogourt

Four Favourite Beers-
- Heineken
- Grolsch
- Corona
- Tuborg

Four Favourite Non-alcoholic Drinks
- Iced Tea
- Coca Cola Classic
- Grape Juice
- Cold Milk

Four Favourite Musicians-
- Bob Marley
- Buju Banton
- Ben Harper
- Wyclef Jean

Four Places I Would Like To Be Right Now-
- In bed.
- Floating in the water at a tropical beach.
- Accepting a cheque for a million dollars from some eccentric relative I never knew I had.
- Eating ribs.

Last four books you have read-
- Blindness - Jose Saramago
- Papillon - Henri Charriere
- Sun Tzu's Art of War -
- The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini

Last four movies you have seen-
- Sometimes in April (*****/*****)
- The Pink Panther (*/*****)
- The Bone Collector (**/*****)
- My Big Fat Greek Wedding (***/*****)

What's on your desk right now?
- A blank cd case
- Three empty glasses
- A Frank Lloyd Wright mousepad
- My elbow

Six- Seven bloggers you're tagging -
- Aaron Gysbers
- Daryl de Boer
- Todd Guthrie
- Piet Harsevoort
- Jake Belder
- Rob Joustra
- Marcellin Mutoni

Gustave

Crocodiles are ancient reptiles which are thought to have changed little since the time of the dinosaurs. Their sharp claws and fearsome jaws have been inspiring fear for thousands of years. These aquatic creatures love to loll in the slow-moving rivers and lakes of Africa, Asia, the Americas and Australia.
One particularly infamous crocodile has made his home on a river near Burundi's Lake Taganyika. Gustave is a crocodile who is said to measure six metres from snout to tail; a measurement which, even if exaggerated, puts him among the longest crocodiles of all time. The thing about Gustave is that he is a freshwater crocodile and his reported size rivals that of his saltwater cousins. Of course, that is only if Gustave is as long as people say he is.
The longest scientifically recorded crocodile was measured at 6.3 m on a crocodile killed on the Fly River in Papau New Guinea in 1983.
Of course, crocodiles, like fish, tend to grow the more people talk about them. A croc that was killed in the Bay of Bengal decades ago was said to be 10 m long. Later, the skull was measured by the British Museum and it was learned that the crocodile likely only measured 4.8 m. 5 metres is actually the average size of a full-grown saltwater crocodile. This crocodile, in other words, was no Gustave. Perhaps Gustave is no Gustave, for if his measurement doubled in the telling just as the length of the Bengalese croc did, we're really talking about a three metre crocodile which is nothing spectacular (unless you're being attacked, then it's pretty impressive).
Crocodiles tend to grow quite rapidly for the first fifteen years of their lives afterwhich they continue to grow at a much slower rate. Saltwater crocodiles commonly live to the ripe old age of seventy while freshwater crocodiles typically live to the age of fifty or sixty. A crocodile that died in Russia in 1997 was captured at the age of five or ten in 1890 which means he could have been as old as 115. More interesting, perhaps, is the fact that this crocodile's lifespan enveloped Russia's Communism quite comfortably and with a couple decades to spare.
Gustave's age is difficult to guess but it is safe to say that he's big for his age. A Frenchman by the name of Patrice Faye has been following Gustave for three or four years. It was Patrice who gave the crocodile his moniker "Gustave" in the first place. According to Monsieur Faye, the crocodile is particularly dangerous when he goes on his amorous adventures in search of feminine crocodilians: "One year I followed him on one of his forays and 17 people had been eaten from Kanyosha and Minago, and Kabezi and Magara." Now, this claim is difficult to substantiate as it is likely that Gustave gets credit for most of the crocodile killings along his routes. Nevertheless, Gustave is a dangerous old reptile and his reputation is one that causes quite a bit of fear among Burundian fisherman and bathers. Gustave is too slow to eat fish and small mammals and relies on larger and slower prey; namely humans. Sadly, Gustave has had many opportunities to gorge himself on dead corpses that have floated down his river.
Monsier Faye has made several attempts to capture Gustave but has failed. There have been a few attempts by Burundians to kill the crocodile as well but these, too, have failed. It is unknown how well the crocodile would fare in captivity, but hopefully he can develop a taste for beef.

Right now I'm listening to:

Elvis Presley - In the Ghetto
Otis Redding - Sitting on the Dock of the Bay
Eddie Vedder with Nusrat Fateh Ali Kahn - Long Road
The Beatles - Eleanor Rigby
Gordon Lightfoot - If You Could Read My Mind
Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah
2Face Idibia - African Queen


Any other recommendations?

Hamilton vs. Toronto and Ottawa

In response to this

Hamilton is better than both Toronto and Ottawa put together because . .

1) The Hamilton Farmer's Market on a Saturday because everyone knows that Kensington and Byward can't compete with an indoor market that has a mezzanine level.

2) Less stray bullets than Toronto and less stray politicians than Ottawa.

3) Bayfront Park is spectacular if you don't touch the water.

4) Unlike Ottawa or Toronto, Hamilton doesn't have a winter festival which will gradually peter out due to global warming.

5) Hamilton doesn't have a team named after aging grey-headed politicians nor do they have a team named after reptilian creatures which have absolutely nothing to do with their geographical location and have more to do with the popularity of a certain Spielberg movie.

6) Ottawa and Toronto may have won more Stanley Cups but they have yet to beat Hamilton for the number of festivals they have held which have met premature deaths.

7) Hamilton brought the world a few NHLers such as Dave Andreychuck but also, and more significantly, Hamilton is the hometown of Martin Short. Martin Short!

8) Ivor Wynne Stadium is honestly better for watching CFL games than either the Frank Clair Stadium or the Rogers Sports Centre.

9) The Plastimet fire was far more glorious (and toxic!) than the fire that took Ottawa's Parliament and the fires the American soldiers set in Toronto during the War of 1812.

10) Like those in Ottawa, Hamiltonians don't need help from the Canadian Army to shovel their snow. Unlike Ottawans, Hamiltonians actually shovel their snow.

11) Ottawa may be the capital of Canada and Toronto may be the capital of Ontario but Hamilton is the mullet capital of the world.

12) Unlike Torontonians, both Hamiltonians and Ottawans can get to work in under an hour each morning. Unlike Ottawans, Hamiltonians don't work cushy government jobs with expense accounts and ridiculously short hours.

13) Hamilton doesn't have Poutine, but they do have Canada's very first Tim Horton's restaurant. In fact, if you can't find a Tim Horton's branch in Hamilton than you're not in Hamilton.

14) Lawns in Toronto are postage-sized. Lawns in Ottawa and Hamilton are about equal size, but Hamilton has former Heritage Minister Sheila Copps and a lot more one-way streets which makes us that much more cultured and cosmopolitan.

15) Toronto's nickname? Hogtown. Ottawa's old nickname? Bytown. Hamilton's nickname? The Hammer (much cooler).

16) Do Toronto or Ottawa have a mountain? Neither does Hamilton, but it certainly has an escarpment/cuesta.

To all those who find my site inquisitive and would like me to look at their site:

Thank you for you kind words and for your interest in my site. Somehow, unfortunately, I am doubting the sincerity of your admiration. I received the following double-posted comment from a fellow by the name of markericks1317666745: "I read over your blog, and i found it inquisitive, you may find My Blog interesting. So please Click Here To Read My Blog http://pennystockinvestment.blogspot.com "
First of all, what are you doing posting at 4:15 in the morning? Secondly, your blog is nonexistent and so the implication that I might find your blog as interesting as you found mine is actually pretty hurtful. I should hope my blog is more interesting than something which is "not found."
Davidalexander9507 left the following comment "I read over your blog, and i found it inquisitive, you may find My Blog interesting. My blog is just about my day to day life, as a park ranger. So please Click Here To Read My Blog "
Now, davidalexander9507 and markericks1317666745 might not be related but their comments are similar to the point of being identical. All davidalexander9507 added was this little tidbit "My blog is just about my day to day life, as a park ranger." I thought maybe it was a coincidence that these two individuals express their interest in the same way, but then I found a common thread. The name of the first blog is pennystockinvestment.blogspot.com while one of davidalexander9507's posts reads as follows: "

Stocks? I don't know...

Today a friend of mine confronted me about investing in some penny stocks.....what?

He is a broker in some firm, whatever. Being a park ranger he knows I am big for the environment and all that good stuff, and knows I have some extra cash saved up that said I wanted to invest in something (I've been very vague). ANYWAY, he goes on and tells me about one very specific stock..this company that creates a special type of tree; that regrows from the stump when cut, and grows at a very fast rate, great for the environment to say the least.

I'm not very good with stocks...well, I should say I don't know anything about them. But I looked at the stock today, and the damn thing is up 166%! I might buy a thousand shares (only about $100 bucks or so) and see how it turns out. Yes, I know I can lose all my investment, but wow, looks damn good!

Any stock people out there can assist me? Check the details of it here. If your good with stocks toss me an email to juicy_fruiter@yahoo.com, I'd like to know if it is as good as I think it is."

What is the common denominator? If you said pennystocks than you're on the right track. Anyone else want to invest in trees that grow from the stump at a very fast rate after being cut? They're very good for the environment, to say the least. Davidalexander9507 also has an interest in Juicy Fruit gum and a free downloadable program called Motivation which can be downloaded at www.filequota.com.

In addition, I think I should point out that the word "inquisitive" is an adjective which describes someone who is curious. A blogsite, being an inanimate object, does not have the capacity to be inquisitive. If it did, we would soon find that blogs would be seriously unfulfilled as they are unable to search for knowledge to sate their curiousity.

What Hath God Wrought?

Today I read that the Western Union telegram had finally met its demise after one hundred and fifty years of service. I was under the impression that the telegram had gone the way of the dodo bird around the same time that records started to be cool. Nope, the telegram was still clicking away as recently as February 1, 2006. In fact, the Swedish Company Telia still sends telegrams and nostalgic novelty items. I suppose that means that telegrams have not yet completely died and the reports of its death have been greatly exaggerated.

In other technological news, the United States is set to switch off the televisions of over seventy million viewers from around the country. February 17, 2009 is the proposed date for the end of the broadcasting of analog signals. Canada may soon follow suit and grandpa and grandma's television will fade to black. Once the spectrum is free it will be sold off to tech companies who can use it for improved cell phone, wireless access and other such technological mumbo jumbo. The American government is proposing vouchers for those who rely on VHF/UHF signals so that they can purchase digital or cable access. This has some in the Canadian Liberal Party asking, "what is to stop these people from spending this money on popcorn and beer?" Perhaps a revolution will occur in which thousands of souls stuck at home watching fuzzy re-runs of That 70's Show will suddenly be inspired to visit their local library and read some books.