Dear Dog People,
This has been a very interesting week for me. I've written about political scandal, racism, crime, and lots of other important topics. Some I expected to be controversial and unpopular, and I've received a few letters to that affect. But never....NEVER....have I seen such an unbelievable stink as with that dog article. Not only the comments you see here, but in a letter to the editor and in personal emails.
To be clear, I have a dog. I've had a few dogs, all of which were loved and very well taken care of. I think it's mean and cruel when people DON'T take care of their dogs, and I would never suggest compromising proper care for your pet. If it's cold, make sure they're inside. If their nails are too long, get them clipped. If they're pacing around the door, yes, they're communicating by making known their desire to go outside and pee.
But these "soundbites" about my being ignorant and uncaring, in comparison with the statements I made in my article, are apples and oranges.
Apples and oranges.
I did not criticize people for grooming their pet, but there is a big difference between getting a dog's nails clipped to ensure his comfort and health, and spending $30 on a Ruby Red paint job so that all your friends can gush about how Muffy the Poodle's claws are the envy of pooches up and down the block. Don't you see a difference?
I did not criticize people for buying their dog a sweater for the purposes of warmth and comfort, but there is a big difference between buying a dog sweater as outerwear to keep your pup warm, and making sure he's in his best Marc Jacobs jacket for a trip to the mall in the middle of May.
I did not criticize people for communicating and relating with their pets, but there is a big difference between tail-wagging and face-licking, and "I love you, Mommy."
Many of the criticisms that have come my way over the past week have been based on statements in my article taken completely and intentionally out of context, for the purposes of making me out to be a dog-hater, in order to distract from the validity of my arguements.
"Why are you complaining about the dog birthday party? It didn't affect you, you should just mind your own business." Not completely true, since I choose to live in a society that does not advocate people holding pets to a higher standard of consideration and treatment than the people around them. It is my business when people around me start to develop an attitude and behavior that dictates their dogs deserve a birthday party as much as a little girl down the street who's parents can't afford to throw her one. And it became my business to criticize a dogs-are-as-important-as-children mind set when it's sitting in my living room.
You are free to think of me as an imbicile if you wish, but by the same rule, I am just as free to think of many dog lunatics as crazy dog lunatics. There is something to be said of excess and perspective (and humor, for that matter) that is lost on far too many, and that completely validates the content and intention of my article.
I trust this matter is now closed. We'll just have to agree to disagree. Jeez, people; learn how to take a joke and tolerate satire. If you can't, at least be honest in your own ignorance and resentment.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A "Ruff" Reality Check
Quite an elaborate event it was, this party for Winston, my sister's baby. Let me give you the highlights.
The house was decorated with balloons, banners, and streamers. My sister had made individual cakes for every guest, sparing no expense and leaving out no detail. The guests arrived with their gifts in tow, the girls dressed in pretty pink dresses and the boys donning special birthday hats, and they all played together and posed for pictures. By all accounts, this birthday extravaganza was a great success.
Due to a prior engagement, my MacDonald clan was unable to attend Winston's first birthday celebration, but fortunately for everyone, pictures of the entire grand affair were posted on Facebook within hours.
At this point I'll mention, Winston is a dog.
The extent of this insanity almost has me at a loss for words. Almost.
I''m not a dog-hater. When I was about a year old, my parents got me a dog, a Retriever-Collie mix, who was the most gentle and mild-mannered pet in the world. Poor old Sherry lived until I was 12, and when she got sick and we had to put her down, I remember being upset that whole day. I don't recall needing Ativan or therapy, though.
Now our family has a medium-sized white dog named Bear MacDonald (not just Bear, but Bear MacDonald, as my youngest is quick to point out in any discussion). We're not sure exactly what kind of dog he is, but for reasons it would take too long to explain, we call him a Glace Bay Shih-Tzu. He's generally well behaved, and definitely a great dog to have with kids. I like our dog for the most part, although I could do without the shedding and necessity of hiring a dog-sitter every time we go away for the night. I mean really, a dog-sitter? One of the annoyances of pet ownership, I guess.
Would I be sad if something bad happened to Bear MacDonald? Yes, I would. I'd probably miss the sight of him playing with the kids and how happy he looks when we pull up in the car.
But would I need to be hospitalized to deal with my grief? Probably not.
What is it with people and their dogs? I'm not trying to generate nasty e-mails for myself, because I know a lot of people have great affection for their pets, but somewhere along the line people have forgotten that there is a difference between dogs and humans.
My sister is a maniacal example. She takes Winston for manicures and pedicures and fluffing and quaffing appointments on a very regular basis, and considers this pampering to be just a regular budgetary expense. Are you kidding me? I haven't had a manicure in years! When I have the extra money and time set aside, you can be sure I won't pile Bear MacDonald into the car to make sure he gets the royal treatment first. Dogs lived for thousands of years without esthetic services; I doubt this generation of pooches would be any worse off without them.
Now let's move on to clothes. "Dog" does not belong in the same sentence as the word "sweater", people. It just doesn't, period. It's always the people who claim to love their dog the most, who insist on dressing it up as a witch for Halloween, or something just as cruel and ridiculous, all for the sake of laughing at it and taking a picture. Animals aren't meant to wear clothes, and certainly not any that cost more than the ones I'm wearing right now. Sheesh.
Lastly, I'll tell you about the experience that led up to me writing this article. The whole buy-a-small-dog-and-carry-it-around-like-a-purse thing, and every Paris Hilton-esque habit that goes along with that, has been annoying me for quite some time, but recently one of these delusional dog-people said something that really insulted me. This person actually sat in my living room, tickling her pooch's belly and coochie-coochi-coo-ing with such obliviousness and ignorance that only a young 20-something could muster, and told me that my kids were no more special than her dog. And she meant it sincerely. Imagine.
To those people, I can only say: wake up. Your dog is cute. Your DOG. That you bought. That can't speak to you. That licks his privates when he's bored. That sniffs other dog's bums.
Sorry to all the dog lovers, but I'm hoping most of you realize that children are in a different league. If you disagree, please never have children. Just get another dog - a small one named Daughter of Nutcase with red-painted claws and wearing a Burberry jacket.
The house was decorated with balloons, banners, and streamers. My sister had made individual cakes for every guest, sparing no expense and leaving out no detail. The guests arrived with their gifts in tow, the girls dressed in pretty pink dresses and the boys donning special birthday hats, and they all played together and posed for pictures. By all accounts, this birthday extravaganza was a great success.
Due to a prior engagement, my MacDonald clan was unable to attend Winston's first birthday celebration, but fortunately for everyone, pictures of the entire grand affair were posted on Facebook within hours.
At this point I'll mention, Winston is a dog.
The extent of this insanity almost has me at a loss for words. Almost.
I''m not a dog-hater. When I was about a year old, my parents got me a dog, a Retriever-Collie mix, who was the most gentle and mild-mannered pet in the world. Poor old Sherry lived until I was 12, and when she got sick and we had to put her down, I remember being upset that whole day. I don't recall needing Ativan or therapy, though.
Now our family has a medium-sized white dog named Bear MacDonald (not just Bear, but Bear MacDonald, as my youngest is quick to point out in any discussion). We're not sure exactly what kind of dog he is, but for reasons it would take too long to explain, we call him a Glace Bay Shih-Tzu. He's generally well behaved, and definitely a great dog to have with kids. I like our dog for the most part, although I could do without the shedding and necessity of hiring a dog-sitter every time we go away for the night. I mean really, a dog-sitter? One of the annoyances of pet ownership, I guess.
Would I be sad if something bad happened to Bear MacDonald? Yes, I would. I'd probably miss the sight of him playing with the kids and how happy he looks when we pull up in the car.
But would I need to be hospitalized to deal with my grief? Probably not.
What is it with people and their dogs? I'm not trying to generate nasty e-mails for myself, because I know a lot of people have great affection for their pets, but somewhere along the line people have forgotten that there is a difference between dogs and humans.
My sister is a maniacal example. She takes Winston for manicures and pedicures and fluffing and quaffing appointments on a very regular basis, and considers this pampering to be just a regular budgetary expense. Are you kidding me? I haven't had a manicure in years! When I have the extra money and time set aside, you can be sure I won't pile Bear MacDonald into the car to make sure he gets the royal treatment first. Dogs lived for thousands of years without esthetic services; I doubt this generation of pooches would be any worse off without them.
Now let's move on to clothes. "Dog" does not belong in the same sentence as the word "sweater", people. It just doesn't, period. It's always the people who claim to love their dog the most, who insist on dressing it up as a witch for Halloween, or something just as cruel and ridiculous, all for the sake of laughing at it and taking a picture. Animals aren't meant to wear clothes, and certainly not any that cost more than the ones I'm wearing right now. Sheesh.
Lastly, I'll tell you about the experience that led up to me writing this article. The whole buy-a-small-dog-and-carry-it-around-like-a-purse thing, and every Paris Hilton-esque habit that goes along with that, has been annoying me for quite some time, but recently one of these delusional dog-people said something that really insulted me. This person actually sat in my living room, tickling her pooch's belly and coochie-coochi-coo-ing with such obliviousness and ignorance that only a young 20-something could muster, and told me that my kids were no more special than her dog. And she meant it sincerely. Imagine.
To those people, I can only say: wake up. Your dog is cute. Your DOG. That you bought. That can't speak to you. That licks his privates when he's bored. That sniffs other dog's bums.
Sorry to all the dog lovers, but I'm hoping most of you realize that children are in a different league. If you disagree, please never have children. Just get another dog - a small one named Daughter of Nutcase with red-painted claws and wearing a Burberry jacket.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Tasers - Unpopular Opinion?
When the topic of tasers comes up in conversation, most times there is no middle ground. Either people are completely opposed to their use, or completely for it.
I like to analyze most social issues, but this one seems pretty cut and dry to me.
I'm the type of person who doesn't get into trouble. As my friends and family know, I'm law abiding to a fault (I've been told my pestering can be annoying); sure, I may be guilty of going over the speed limit from time to time, but other than that, I'm the buckle-up, dope-is-for-losers, no-fighting, take-a-cab-if-you're-drinking, I'm-calling-the-cops girl, and proud of it.
That's why it's easy for me to be completely pro-taser - I don't have any fear of them.
Last I checked, no innocent person who is behaving themselves and minding their own business has been tased while out for a jog or at the grocery store. Even criminals under arrest aren't in any danger if they're co-operative.
I can, however, cite many examples of unarmed or under-armed police officers all over the world being injured or killed by violent offenders, both before, during and after an arrest.
My point is, police officers need to be armed, but if you keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble, tasers should be of no concern to your personal safety. You reap what you sow.
Because we live in a part of the world where violent crime isn't as common as in other places, it's easy for us to forget that being a cop is a dangerous job. They may not face confrontation on a regular basis, but when they have to, most of the time it is at their physical peril. The police encounter people in a different set of circumstances and a different mind set than most of us.
They have to pull cars over, respond to domestic incidents, and deal with many other unpredictable situations that, often times, pose a serious threat of harm. A person who gets pulled over for speeding might be just a soccer mom in a rush to make the game. But it could just as easily be a drug dealer with ten pounds of cocaine in his back seat, and who is more likely to take measures to get out of the situation, than he is to face the consequences and be arrested.
What's preferred? For an assailant to be tasered, or shot?
But critics disagree with me. There have been instances where people who have been tased have died after being shocked, and the families of these people have cried foul, causing the Justice Department to call for tests and studies and analysis of tasers, to determine whether or not they're "safe".
Well, guess what - they're not supposed to be safe. They're not supposed to shoot rainbows and play soft music. They're supposed to circumvent the use of lethal force (like guns) and debilitate an individual, neutralizing a potentially violent or out-of-control situation. Sure, there are people who react badly to the shock, but the same can be said of pepper spray and peanut butter, and you don't see Stockwell Day and the national media in a tizzy over that.
I'll give you some numbers. In a study conducted by a doctor at prominent North Carolina medical center (a study which has been used by Amnesty International in determining the health effects of conducted energy weapons), of 1000 people subjected to taser use, 99.7% had either minor injuries, such as scrapes or bruises, or no injuries at all. Three received injuries listed as "more serious". Two of the subjects died, but the autopsy concluded that neither death was related to the use of the taser, but rather to pre-existing medical conditions.
Those are acceptable odds in my books.
So I look at it like this: we can arm trained and experienced officers with weapons that will resolve a situation with minimal fatalities, minimal permanent injury, and maximum effectiveness; or, we can punish an entire workforce for a few rare occurrences involving death or irresponsible usage, by banning these devices and making firearms the only employable weapon available for them to use in an extreme situation.
It makes more sense to me to let the taser-worthy be tased; if you have a condition that you think will be adversely affected by an electric shock (or even if you don't), don't resist arrest, or, better yet, don't get arrested.
Maybe you disagree, and that's all right with me. Feel free to fight the power and challenge the status quo. But until they're banned entirely based on very compelling evidence, I will continue to support the authority of the RCMP, their judgement, and the use of tasers.
I like to analyze most social issues, but this one seems pretty cut and dry to me.
I'm the type of person who doesn't get into trouble. As my friends and family know, I'm law abiding to a fault (I've been told my pestering can be annoying); sure, I may be guilty of going over the speed limit from time to time, but other than that, I'm the buckle-up, dope-is-for-losers, no-fighting, take-a-cab-if-you're-drinking, I'm-calling-the-cops girl, and proud of it.
That's why it's easy for me to be completely pro-taser - I don't have any fear of them.
Last I checked, no innocent person who is behaving themselves and minding their own business has been tased while out for a jog or at the grocery store. Even criminals under arrest aren't in any danger if they're co-operative.
I can, however, cite many examples of unarmed or under-armed police officers all over the world being injured or killed by violent offenders, both before, during and after an arrest.
My point is, police officers need to be armed, but if you keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble, tasers should be of no concern to your personal safety. You reap what you sow.
Because we live in a part of the world where violent crime isn't as common as in other places, it's easy for us to forget that being a cop is a dangerous job. They may not face confrontation on a regular basis, but when they have to, most of the time it is at their physical peril. The police encounter people in a different set of circumstances and a different mind set than most of us.
They have to pull cars over, respond to domestic incidents, and deal with many other unpredictable situations that, often times, pose a serious threat of harm. A person who gets pulled over for speeding might be just a soccer mom in a rush to make the game. But it could just as easily be a drug dealer with ten pounds of cocaine in his back seat, and who is more likely to take measures to get out of the situation, than he is to face the consequences and be arrested.
What's preferred? For an assailant to be tasered, or shot?
But critics disagree with me. There have been instances where people who have been tased have died after being shocked, and the families of these people have cried foul, causing the Justice Department to call for tests and studies and analysis of tasers, to determine whether or not they're "safe".
Well, guess what - they're not supposed to be safe. They're not supposed to shoot rainbows and play soft music. They're supposed to circumvent the use of lethal force (like guns) and debilitate an individual, neutralizing a potentially violent or out-of-control situation. Sure, there are people who react badly to the shock, but the same can be said of pepper spray and peanut butter, and you don't see Stockwell Day and the national media in a tizzy over that.
I'll give you some numbers. In a study conducted by a doctor at prominent North Carolina medical center (a study which has been used by Amnesty International in determining the health effects of conducted energy weapons), of 1000 people subjected to taser use, 99.7% had either minor injuries, such as scrapes or bruises, or no injuries at all. Three received injuries listed as "more serious". Two of the subjects died, but the autopsy concluded that neither death was related to the use of the taser, but rather to pre-existing medical conditions.
Those are acceptable odds in my books.
So I look at it like this: we can arm trained and experienced officers with weapons that will resolve a situation with minimal fatalities, minimal permanent injury, and maximum effectiveness; or, we can punish an entire workforce for a few rare occurrences involving death or irresponsible usage, by banning these devices and making firearms the only employable weapon available for them to use in an extreme situation.
It makes more sense to me to let the taser-worthy be tased; if you have a condition that you think will be adversely affected by an electric shock (or even if you don't), don't resist arrest, or, better yet, don't get arrested.
Maybe you disagree, and that's all right with me. Feel free to fight the power and challenge the status quo. But until they're banned entirely based on very compelling evidence, I will continue to support the authority of the RCMP, their judgement, and the use of tasers.
Where Were You?
In the fall of 2001, I was sent to Yellowknife, Northwest Territories for a work conference. The prospect of traffic and crowds and noise, after being stuck in Nunavut for over a year with none of those things, was exciting indeed.
Meetings and training occupied most of my days over the course of the week-long conference. My evenings were spent shopping, dining, and walking around the city. I bought almost an entire new wardrobe, I ate at beautiful restaurants, I saw trees, and I acted every bit the tourist that I was.
After full days of working and spending money, I'd retire to my plush hotel room to watch television and get a good night's sleep. The hotel, meals, cabs - the whole shot - was paid by my employer, and I was loving every minute of my all-expense-paid vacation.
The night before I was scheduled to leave, I was in my room, packing and organizing my things, eating Chinese take-out, and watching music videos. I considered how lucky I was to be laying on a king-size bed in a terry bathrobe and slippers, with nothing to do but relax. Though I could have used a few more days of civilization, I was satisfied with my trip and anxious to return to Iqaluit. The time away had done me plenty of good, but now it was time to head back to the real world. I re-checked my plane ticket, ordered a wake-up call, and fell asleep soundly. Life was good.
My flight was scheduled to leave at 8:40am on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.
I woke up early that morning, at around 5:30am, so I'd have plenty of time to check out and get to the airport. After my shower, I turned on the television for some background noise and began getting ready. I barely noticed that the music videos had stopped and two people were speaking live, but a few unusual words caught my attention. Events in New York...urging everyone to turn on the news...pray for us all...what? What are they talking about?
I flipped through the channels without knowing what I was looking for, unaware of how many thoughts could swirl around in a person's head in just a few seconds. It didn't take me long to find live feed of the Twin Towers. Had I not received that ominous forewarning, I'd have thought I was watching a movie.
Two planes? That can't be a coincidence, can it? Wait, what time is it in New York? 9:20am. Wouldn't most people have been at work when this happened? How many people work in those buildings? How many per floor? How many floors would be taken out by a direct hit from a commercial airline? Were there passengers on these planes? How many people are already dead?
There were so many questions and so many frightening possible answers.
At some point, a room service lady had come into the room with my breakfast and noticed what was on the television. She sat beside me at the end of the bed and we both watched in silent astonishment. I doubt it was common for hotel staff to invite themselves into an occupied room, or for the occupant to not notice or care, but it was a unique circumstance. We never even spoke to each other.
And then the Pentagon.
What's going on here? Was it another plane? Isn't the Pentagon one of the most secure buildings in the world? There were already two crashes, why isn't anyone stopping these people? For God's sake, who are these people? Who would do something like this?
I was informed by someone that all flights in North America, mine included, had been grounded, so I was glued to the television without distraction. Maybe I was just too terrified to move. After the Pentagon, I watched news unfold of the other plane crashing in Pennsylvania. I watched the towers fall, two iconic pieces of New York landscape reduced to rubble in a matter of seconds. I heard panic and fear in the voices of firefighters, news anchors and families missing loved ones. Was this attack over? Or is this the beginning of Armageddon?
Many questions from that day remain unanswered more than seven years later. We can put the memory of that day behind us, but only until we relive the panic of the early hours, and our pulse starts to increase. And why shouldn't it? That's the morning the world, our lives, changed forever.
I don't why it's so important for people to share their story, but it seems to be important to just about everyone. Feel free to tell me yours.
Meetings and training occupied most of my days over the course of the week-long conference. My evenings were spent shopping, dining, and walking around the city. I bought almost an entire new wardrobe, I ate at beautiful restaurants, I saw trees, and I acted every bit the tourist that I was.
After full days of working and spending money, I'd retire to my plush hotel room to watch television and get a good night's sleep. The hotel, meals, cabs - the whole shot - was paid by my employer, and I was loving every minute of my all-expense-paid vacation.
The night before I was scheduled to leave, I was in my room, packing and organizing my things, eating Chinese take-out, and watching music videos. I considered how lucky I was to be laying on a king-size bed in a terry bathrobe and slippers, with nothing to do but relax. Though I could have used a few more days of civilization, I was satisfied with my trip and anxious to return to Iqaluit. The time away had done me plenty of good, but now it was time to head back to the real world. I re-checked my plane ticket, ordered a wake-up call, and fell asleep soundly. Life was good.
My flight was scheduled to leave at 8:40am on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.
I woke up early that morning, at around 5:30am, so I'd have plenty of time to check out and get to the airport. After my shower, I turned on the television for some background noise and began getting ready. I barely noticed that the music videos had stopped and two people were speaking live, but a few unusual words caught my attention. Events in New York...urging everyone to turn on the news...pray for us all...what? What are they talking about?
I flipped through the channels without knowing what I was looking for, unaware of how many thoughts could swirl around in a person's head in just a few seconds. It didn't take me long to find live feed of the Twin Towers. Had I not received that ominous forewarning, I'd have thought I was watching a movie.
Two planes? That can't be a coincidence, can it? Wait, what time is it in New York? 9:20am. Wouldn't most people have been at work when this happened? How many people work in those buildings? How many per floor? How many floors would be taken out by a direct hit from a commercial airline? Were there passengers on these planes? How many people are already dead?
There were so many questions and so many frightening possible answers.
At some point, a room service lady had come into the room with my breakfast and noticed what was on the television. She sat beside me at the end of the bed and we both watched in silent astonishment. I doubt it was common for hotel staff to invite themselves into an occupied room, or for the occupant to not notice or care, but it was a unique circumstance. We never even spoke to each other.
And then the Pentagon.
What's going on here? Was it another plane? Isn't the Pentagon one of the most secure buildings in the world? There were already two crashes, why isn't anyone stopping these people? For God's sake, who are these people? Who would do something like this?
I was informed by someone that all flights in North America, mine included, had been grounded, so I was glued to the television without distraction. Maybe I was just too terrified to move. After the Pentagon, I watched news unfold of the other plane crashing in Pennsylvania. I watched the towers fall, two iconic pieces of New York landscape reduced to rubble in a matter of seconds. I heard panic and fear in the voices of firefighters, news anchors and families missing loved ones. Was this attack over? Or is this the beginning of Armageddon?
Many questions from that day remain unanswered more than seven years later. We can put the memory of that day behind us, but only until we relive the panic of the early hours, and our pulse starts to increase. And why shouldn't it? That's the morning the world, our lives, changed forever.
I don't why it's so important for people to share their story, but it seems to be important to just about everyone. Feel free to tell me yours.
Political Potpourri
I enjoy politics, I can't help it. If you can bear with me for one more week of ranting, I promise to drop it once and for all. Probably.
Just a few words about the U.S. Vice Presidential debate, if I may.
Joe Biden and Sarah Palin threw down and entertained us all with a few hours of sound bites, as the world media waited with baited breath for Palin to make as much of a mockery of herself as she did in her interview with Katie Curic. However, much to the shock and disbelief of hundreds of thousands of people, she actually held her own. Kind of.
I think it's more accurate to say she didn't embarrass herself as badly as she was expected to. But whatever, potato-pototto.
Even I was surprised at how she was able to string sentences together, though I didn't let my short-lived tolerance distract me from the real issue.
Matt Damon said it best when he described Sarah Palin's candidacy as a really bad Disney movie; a nice looking hockey mom from the back woods of Alaska inexplicably finds herself in the middle of the race for the Vice Presidency (I'm sure the screenplays are rolling in already).
Part of me still can't grasp the reality that she's really there. How is it possible? John McCain took a huge risk and chose a less-than-mediocre running mate in what is arguably the most important election in the history of the United States.
But there she is, I have to deal with it. She just makes it so darn difficult!
"Ya no, doggone it, Jo - I'm jest wundrin' haw yer feancy peants ecka-nawmick pleans are gonna affect all the saccer mams up thare in little ol' Wassilly-a, ya no, whare I was the mayer fer a spell."
Ok, maybe that wasn't a direct quote, but I bet I could have convinced you it was.
I get the whole "trying-to-relate-to-regular-people" concept that all the candidates are trying so desperately to capture, but Palin is way too over the top. Based on her statements up to this point, she's already got a long road to hoe in terms of convincing the American public that the fate of their nation is safe in her hands, but I don't think dumbing herself down with this "folksy" routine is doing her any favors in the long run, either. Not only are the people of Alaska rolling their eyes every time she opens her mouth, but it's uncomfortable to watch for the rest of us, too. It's great comedy, but it's funnier to see a skit about her being an unqualified hillbilly on Saturday Night Live, than it is to watch her prove it in real time on CNN. Scary stuff.
She's pretty foxy, though. You never know - if this whole White House thing doesn't work out, maybe Larry Flynt...oh, nevermind.
On to local beefs.
This will be my first election as a citizen of Port Hawkesbury, and I was so looking forward to hearing from the candidates running for Council here in town. A pamphlet, a phone call, something.
The only person to have communicated with me in any capacity is a man who left a "sorry I missed you" card, even though I was looking at him through my kitchen window. How's that for effective campaigning?
Where were the campaigns? Is it me being out of the loop, or a serious lack of visibility by the people running for municipal council? I'm ready, willing and anxious for a politician to ask for my support, but at this point I have no idea who to vote for. Were it not for information in this newspaper, I wouldn't even know who is running. I need a candidate to tell me what they stand for, what they plan to do, and why I should vote for them instead of someone else.
I invite the candidates to send me an e-mail outlining why they're the best person for the job, so I'll know who to vote for.
Finally, I'll dole out a little advice.
While I didn't see any municipal hopefuls at my door, I did have the pleasure of welcoming two of the federal candidates, whose names I will not mention.
Here's a few tips for your future campaigning endeavors: first, gross, white pasty things in the corners of your mouth tend to distract from any conversation about economic policy. And second, don't expect to be met with a lot of enthusiastic support when you show up at someone's door after 9pm on a Tuesday, especially when all the lights are off because everyone was in bed.
Happy elections!
Just a few words about the U.S. Vice Presidential debate, if I may.
Joe Biden and Sarah Palin threw down and entertained us all with a few hours of sound bites, as the world media waited with baited breath for Palin to make as much of a mockery of herself as she did in her interview with Katie Curic. However, much to the shock and disbelief of hundreds of thousands of people, she actually held her own. Kind of.
I think it's more accurate to say she didn't embarrass herself as badly as she was expected to. But whatever, potato-pototto.
Even I was surprised at how she was able to string sentences together, though I didn't let my short-lived tolerance distract me from the real issue.
Matt Damon said it best when he described Sarah Palin's candidacy as a really bad Disney movie; a nice looking hockey mom from the back woods of Alaska inexplicably finds herself in the middle of the race for the Vice Presidency (I'm sure the screenplays are rolling in already).
Part of me still can't grasp the reality that she's really there. How is it possible? John McCain took a huge risk and chose a less-than-mediocre running mate in what is arguably the most important election in the history of the United States.
But there she is, I have to deal with it. She just makes it so darn difficult!
"Ya no, doggone it, Jo - I'm jest wundrin' haw yer feancy peants ecka-nawmick pleans are gonna affect all the saccer mams up thare in little ol' Wassilly-a, ya no, whare I was the mayer fer a spell."
Ok, maybe that wasn't a direct quote, but I bet I could have convinced you it was.
I get the whole "trying-to-relate-to-regular-people" concept that all the candidates are trying so desperately to capture, but Palin is way too over the top. Based on her statements up to this point, she's already got a long road to hoe in terms of convincing the American public that the fate of their nation is safe in her hands, but I don't think dumbing herself down with this "folksy" routine is doing her any favors in the long run, either. Not only are the people of Alaska rolling their eyes every time she opens her mouth, but it's uncomfortable to watch for the rest of us, too. It's great comedy, but it's funnier to see a skit about her being an unqualified hillbilly on Saturday Night Live, than it is to watch her prove it in real time on CNN. Scary stuff.
She's pretty foxy, though. You never know - if this whole White House thing doesn't work out, maybe Larry Flynt...oh, nevermind.
On to local beefs.
This will be my first election as a citizen of Port Hawkesbury, and I was so looking forward to hearing from the candidates running for Council here in town. A pamphlet, a phone call, something.
The only person to have communicated with me in any capacity is a man who left a "sorry I missed you" card, even though I was looking at him through my kitchen window. How's that for effective campaigning?
Where were the campaigns? Is it me being out of the loop, or a serious lack of visibility by the people running for municipal council? I'm ready, willing and anxious for a politician to ask for my support, but at this point I have no idea who to vote for. Were it not for information in this newspaper, I wouldn't even know who is running. I need a candidate to tell me what they stand for, what they plan to do, and why I should vote for them instead of someone else.
I invite the candidates to send me an e-mail outlining why they're the best person for the job, so I'll know who to vote for.
Finally, I'll dole out a little advice.
While I didn't see any municipal hopefuls at my door, I did have the pleasure of welcoming two of the federal candidates, whose names I will not mention.
Here's a few tips for your future campaigning endeavors: first, gross, white pasty things in the corners of your mouth tend to distract from any conversation about economic policy. And second, don't expect to be met with a lot of enthusiastic support when you show up at someone's door after 9pm on a Tuesday, especially when all the lights are off because everyone was in bed.
Happy elections!
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