There are some things I'll write about for the paper, and some things I won't. The good thing about this blog is that I can say WHATEVER I WANT, and I don't have to worry about accusations of slander or libel, or journalistic integrity. I can even curse if I want to.
This week, I submitted an article to the paper that I have already posted on this blog. Since that would mean "no new blog for at least another week and a half" according to my publish-then-post plan, I wanted to write about something that has come up in conversation over the past week, that I don't plan on publishing in the paper.
A few years ago, while we were living in Timberlea, we had an "incident" take place. I hesitate to call it an attempted abduction, but you can decide for yourselves.
Nick has always been pretty street smart - maybe a little paranoid even. He's suspicious of every adult he sees, and even goes as far as to tell me from time to time that "there was this creepy guy who was looking at me in the car while you were in the store, so I locked the doors." We've spoken to him countless times about "stranger danger", especially considering we lived in the city for awhile.
Nick was 8, and he was only allowed to play on our street. This usually suited him just fine, since most of his friends lived a few houses away and they, too, were not allowed to leave the street. This way, your kid was always somewhere that was visible to either Mom & Dad, or one of their adult neighbors. We usually didn't worry too much, even when he wasn't right in front of our house.
We lived in a very quiet subdivision, on probably the quietest street in that subdivision. Our street wasn't a main thoroughfare. In a nutshell, unless you were driving onto Wedgewood Avenue to visit someone who lived there, there wasn't much traffic, since it wasn't a main road.
One day we were on our way into Bayer's Lake, myself, Joey & Rory. Nick was already playing up the street, so we were getting our things together and planned to flag him down once we got outside.
We got down to the car, and one of our neighbors approached us, with her hand on Nick's shoulder. He looked upset, and my first thought was that he had gotten in trouble for something. She launched into a story that made the hair on my neck stand up.
This neighbor (we'll call her Judy) had been weeding her garden behind a hedge right across the street from our house. Her position in the garden kept her hidden from traffic on the road, even though she was mere feet from it. She told us she had seen Nick walking toward home from up the street, when a vehicle approached him and stopped right in front of him. Being a mother to a young boy herself, she wanted to make sure this was someone Nick knew, so she listened in.
She said she knew right away that something was wrong. The car, a burgundy Rav-4 type vehicle, was occupied by two women. The driver was in her mid-40s, and the passenger was a few years younger, by Judy's estimation. They started asking Nick all sorts of questions, such as where he lived, if his parents were home, and if they expected him home soon. Seeing women in the car must not have triggered any alarm for Nick, as I imagine he thought of "strangers" as men, and he began talking back to them.
Judy said the questions were giving her cause for suspicion, and when she heard, "Do you need a ride....", she stood up, making herself clearly visible to the women in the car, and asking Nick if everything was OK. Judy said the woman tramped on the gas, quealing the tires as they took off. Luckily, she had the presence of mind to memorize the license plate number.
Needless to say, her recounting of this story made us panic, and we immediately called the police. We gave them a vehicle discription, including color and assumed make & model, a description of the women, including ages and appearance, and we told them what Judy had witnessed and heard. They told us they would look into it and call us back.
After a few hours, we received a call back from the RCMP. They told us they had run the plate number, which was registered to a burgundy Rav-4. It belonged to a woman who lived in another Timberlea subdivision not far from ours. They had gone to her house, and they told us the woman matched the description we had given them. So far, so good. "She said she wasn't on your street at all today, she had no idea what we were talking about," the cop told us. We thought that was pretty funny. Caught in the act, and denying everything. Are the police ever going to lay it on her, we thought. But then it all went downhill. "So I the matter won't go any further, she said she wasn't even there." Those were the next words out of the cop's mouth. What? What do you mean? She said she wasn't there, but we all know she was! We had her license plate number! We were incredulous.
Let me break it down for you, as I did VERY CRANKILY to the unlucky RCMP officer who was handed this matter.
A woman approaches a strange young boy on the street in her car, something I would never do for fear of scaring the kid or alarming the neighbors. She starts asking him inappropriate questions. She comes within one syllable of offering him a ride, when he had just told her his house was right up the street. A reliable adult witnessed the entire exchange. At the first sight of this adult, the woman speeds off in her car. If her intentions were pure, assuming she needed directions or something, she would have acknowledged the adult with a positive reaction. When this woman is found by police, even though her, her vehicle, and her license plate match the descriptions given by an adult witness, she denies even being in the area.
And the cops just take her word for it and move on? I DON'T THINK SO.
I almost feel sorry for that officer who had to deal with me over the coming days and weeks. I did so much yelling and screaming and arguing and fussing and reasoning and explaning, that I thought I would lose my mind. I didn't get any kind of rational response. I even called the staff sergeant to complain and to have someone different put on the case. I was told that it wasn't even a case; it was a complaint that had been dealt with and resolved.
Oh really? Well, what was the resolution? This was the explanation I was given.
Because the police hadn't witnessed this occur, it was our word against hers.
Because our neighbor hadn't written down the license plate number, there was room for error. The chance existed that another woman meeting her description was in our neighborhood, driving an identical burgundy Rav-4, bearing a license plate just one number or letter off from the one Judy remembered. (WTF is this, "My Cousin Vinny"???) After all, she said it wasn't her. And they have no reason to believe she's lying. (Really? None???)
Because she hadn't committed a crime, there wasn't anything the police could or would do about the situation anyway, even if she WAS lying and she DID attempt to take our son. There's no crime in an adult approaching a child in their vehicle and asking the child if they want a ride to their house (which was about 300 feet away).
Now, would you be satisfied with that explanation?
I WAS NOT.
So I gave the police this analogy.
What if a guy walked into a bank wearing a ski mask. He walked up to the teller and started asking her how much money was in the safe, how many security guards were on duty, and then said "put your hands..." - only then to be interrupted by a security guard asking what was going on. The man runs away, and hops into his car, but not before the security guard makes mental note of his license plate. The cops are called and given a description of man, the vehicle, the plate number, and the details of his suspicious visit. But when the cops visit the suspect's house, he denies being anywhere near the bank, even though the plate number matched, as did the description of the car, the description of him, and his house was a block from the bank. Do you think that cops would just say, "Oh, ok....must have been a mistake." NO, THEY WOULDN'T. THEY'D ARREST HIM UNDER SUSPICION OF ATTEMPTED ROBBERY.
But how is my situation any different? Sure, she may not have snatched my child from off the street, but what would have happened if Judy hadn't been there? Why did she stop to talk to Nick in the first place? Why did she panic and bolt when she saw an adult? And if her intentions weren't evil, WHY DID SHE DENY THE WHOLE THING? If I had caused a scare like this to some poor child and his family, I would fess up immediately and apologize. ONLY IF I WERE TRYING TO HIDE SOMETHING WOULD I HAVE THE GALL TO LIE TO THE POLICE, KNOWING THE WHOLE THING HAD BEEN WITNESSED.
I was so mad, SOOOOOOO MAD, that I didn't know what to do with myself. Then, as luck would have it, one cop I spoke to accidently let it slip what subdivision this woman lived in. BINGO! Perfect, I thought. I drove around that subdivision until I found the car. If the cops won't do anything about it, I will, I had decided. I'll go to her house, pound the shit out of her, threaten to kill her if I ever see her on my street again, and then leave. When the cops come asking me about it, I'll just say it wasn't me, tit for tat.
As luck would have it, I have people around me who can be more sensible than myself in the face of chaos and anger. After much discussion, Joey convinced me that beating this women to within an inch of her life probably wasn't such a good idea, and it certainly wouldn't help matters any.
(G: Yes it would Joey, she wouldn't be physically able to drive, AND I'd scare her so bad she'd be too paranoid to pull a stunt like this again.
J: Gina.
G: But Joey she deserves something, she can't just get away with it!
J: Gina.
G: You can't stop me, I'm going to do it whether you want me to or not!
J: Gina!
G: But it would make me feel so much better!
J: Gina, come on......
You get the point.)
All Joey's convincing still didn't stop me from driving by her house 600 times, waiting for her to walk out so I could "accidentally" speed up and run her ass over.
Anyway, you get the point. I was pissed and scared, but mostly pissed, at her and at the cops. We moved from Timberlea shortly after that.
What do you think? Does this sound a little fishy to you? I often wonder if it's just the ovverreation of a paranoid mother. But usually I just consider it an injustice.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
In Other Exciting News...
Big news for me! Starting next week (Wed., Oct.25), I'll have a weekly column in The Reporter, the local newspaper here in the Strait area. It's going to have the same content as my blog, so for those of you who come here on a regular basis, you can now see the column in print. From now on, since the paper comes out on Wednesday, I'm going to be posting here on Thursdays. I'm taking this week off since I have to write an introductory article for my first column, but I'll be back in business next week.
Kiss my rosy red rump, Kings College of Journalism.
Kiss my rosy red rump, Kings College of Journalism.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Devil Wears Puma
I've never been a big fan of "The View". A bunch of female know-it-alls, celebrity big-mouths, nosy windbags, all talking over each other in a mass frenzy, making a TV show that sounds like Friday night bingo at the St. Peter's Lion's Hall. Too much noise for Tuesday at noon, thank you very much. Still, when I occasionally get a break from Treehouse, I sometimes tune in (for lack of any alternative).
"The View" has played a merciless game of musical chairs with it's hosts, and has changed the lineup of "regular members" more often than Destiny's Child. The original cast was tolerable-ish, with their various Master's degrees, at least demonstrating maturity, professionalism, and restraint most of the time. Unfortunately, that changed seasons ago, when ABC started thinning the herd of intelligent people and replacing them with morons.
Case in point: Barbara Walters, in her infinite genius, hired Elisabeth Hasselbeck.
Maybe she seemed harmless in an intellectually-useless kind of way. After all, when she started her stint on "The View", she openly admitted to being uninformed about politics, and just generally naive and inexperienced in life. She probably served as a great ratings-magnet; a pretty young girl from a popular TV show, yahoo! Whatever the reasoning, there she sits, and therein lies the problem.
I can't say with certainty, but in my opinion, there is good reason to believe that Elisabeth Hasselbeck is the stupidest, most ignorant person alive.
I haven't decided if her harping and ranting is the most annoying and mindless noise pollution ever recorded, or if it is perhaps the finest comedy on daytime television. A bad case of foot-in-mouth disease at best. Rosie was obnoxious, but at least she made valid points that she could back up with facts. Elisabeth, whose impeccable credentials include a season on the most contrived reality show in history (where she came 4th), a degree in Fine Arts (majoring in "large paintings"...WTF?? That's a major???), and designing sneakers for Puma, has suddenly become the voice of a nation? An expert in governmental affairs, ethics, and foreign policy? LMAO...I don't think so, dear. A few months in the wilderness without shaving your legs and judging the Miss Teen USA pageant only makes you an expert in irrelevance.
Here's just one example of her rationale, my personal favorite little nugget of wisdom from the incomparable Mrs. Einstein herself: On the topic of lowering the legal drinking age from 21 to 18, Elisabeth disagrees with the idea, but thinks the law should allow 18-year-old soldiers returning from Iraq to drink at their leisure. Also, while they're at it, the government should design a program to wean high school students into drinking, so that they can properly gauge their alcohol tolerance when they go to college. (LMAO....I'd love to see that law pass on the floor of the House. The Hasselbeck/Yale/Lohan Mandatory Underage Alcohol Consumption Bill For The Success and Betterment Of University Binge Drinking.)
As a far-right-leaning, very conservative Republican, she opposes gun control, ending the war, the morning after pill, and most other Democratic ideals. Her position on those topics should be respected and heard, but not shoved down the throats of other hosts, guests, and viewers alike. Her maniacal defense of George W. Bush comes off like a student defending her father the Principal. (Could she be the love child of GWB and...let's see...possibly Farrah Fawcett?!?! That would explain so much....) It almost seems as if she's been so brainwashed by Republican propaganda, that she's about to start her own church or something. The Church of Bush. (Hey, that would make a pretty good skit for Saturday Night Live, EH starting a church dedicated to the teachings of GWB, not unlike Tom Cruise and his Scientology bull&%$#......sorry, I digress....)Anyway, the bottom line is, it's fine to have strong opinions, but it's unprofessional to be rude and catty to people who disagree with you, as is so often the case on "The View" when Elisabeth opens her pie hole.
And I'm not alone in my judgement of this chick. The website www.fireelisabethhasselbeck.com has a mission statement, a petition, and a purpose.
As a disclaimer in my own defense, for people who might say this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I am very aware of my lack of knowledge on many (most?lol) topics, and I can admit that. I don't pretend to know it all, and I don't subject millions of people to my self-righteous bickering on national TV five days a week. (Only online in this blog occasionally....)
I'm not sure how to end this rant. I'd love to put something witty and catchy and humorous, but those characteristics aren't in keeping with the Elisabeth Hasselbeck theme. So I guess I'll just say, I think she may be the devil, which means apparently the devil doesn't wear Prada after all. She wears Puma.
"The View" has played a merciless game of musical chairs with it's hosts, and has changed the lineup of "regular members" more often than Destiny's Child. The original cast was tolerable-ish, with their various Master's degrees, at least demonstrating maturity, professionalism, and restraint most of the time. Unfortunately, that changed seasons ago, when ABC started thinning the herd of intelligent people and replacing them with morons.
Case in point: Barbara Walters, in her infinite genius, hired Elisabeth Hasselbeck.
Maybe she seemed harmless in an intellectually-useless kind of way. After all, when she started her stint on "The View", she openly admitted to being uninformed about politics, and just generally naive and inexperienced in life. She probably served as a great ratings-magnet; a pretty young girl from a popular TV show, yahoo! Whatever the reasoning, there she sits, and therein lies the problem.
I can't say with certainty, but in my opinion, there is good reason to believe that Elisabeth Hasselbeck is the stupidest, most ignorant person alive.
I haven't decided if her harping and ranting is the most annoying and mindless noise pollution ever recorded, or if it is perhaps the finest comedy on daytime television. A bad case of foot-in-mouth disease at best. Rosie was obnoxious, but at least she made valid points that she could back up with facts. Elisabeth, whose impeccable credentials include a season on the most contrived reality show in history (where she came 4th), a degree in Fine Arts (majoring in "large paintings"...WTF?? That's a major???), and designing sneakers for Puma, has suddenly become the voice of a nation? An expert in governmental affairs, ethics, and foreign policy? LMAO...I don't think so, dear. A few months in the wilderness without shaving your legs and judging the Miss Teen USA pageant only makes you an expert in irrelevance.
Here's just one example of her rationale, my personal favorite little nugget of wisdom from the incomparable Mrs. Einstein herself: On the topic of lowering the legal drinking age from 21 to 18, Elisabeth disagrees with the idea, but thinks the law should allow 18-year-old soldiers returning from Iraq to drink at their leisure. Also, while they're at it, the government should design a program to wean high school students into drinking, so that they can properly gauge their alcohol tolerance when they go to college. (LMAO....I'd love to see that law pass on the floor of the House. The Hasselbeck/Yale/Lohan Mandatory Underage Alcohol Consumption Bill For The Success and Betterment Of University Binge Drinking.)
As a far-right-leaning, very conservative Republican, she opposes gun control, ending the war, the morning after pill, and most other Democratic ideals. Her position on those topics should be respected and heard, but not shoved down the throats of other hosts, guests, and viewers alike. Her maniacal defense of George W. Bush comes off like a student defending her father the Principal. (Could she be the love child of GWB and...let's see...possibly Farrah Fawcett?!?! That would explain so much....) It almost seems as if she's been so brainwashed by Republican propaganda, that she's about to start her own church or something. The Church of Bush. (Hey, that would make a pretty good skit for Saturday Night Live, EH starting a church dedicated to the teachings of GWB, not unlike Tom Cruise and his Scientology bull&%$#......sorry, I digress....)Anyway, the bottom line is, it's fine to have strong opinions, but it's unprofessional to be rude and catty to people who disagree with you, as is so often the case on "The View" when Elisabeth opens her pie hole.
And I'm not alone in my judgement of this chick. The website www.fireelisabethhasselbeck.com has a mission statement, a petition, and a purpose.
As a disclaimer in my own defense, for people who might say this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I am very aware of my lack of knowledge on many (most?lol) topics, and I can admit that. I don't pretend to know it all, and I don't subject millions of people to my self-righteous bickering on national TV five days a week. (Only online in this blog occasionally....)
I'm not sure how to end this rant. I'd love to put something witty and catchy and humorous, but those characteristics aren't in keeping with the Elisabeth Hasselbeck theme. So I guess I'll just say, I think she may be the devil, which means apparently the devil doesn't wear Prada after all. She wears Puma.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
"Thank You Dan Rather"
As you may or may not know, Dan Rather is suing CBS. I agree that it's about time that the media be held accountable for the "stories" they are passing off as "news", and Dan Rather's lawsuit is a representation of that ideal. I planned on writing something about the sad state of international media today, but this journalist, Leslie Griffith, has done a much better job than I would have. You'll thank yourself, and Dan Rather, after you read this.
THANK YOU DAN RATHER
Thank you Dan Rather. It's balls to the wall time, and as a fellow Texan, you sure came through.
As an investigative journalist who worked as both a reporter and anchor for the San Francisco Bay Area's highest rated newscast for 22 years, I can only say what happened to you nationally was also happening locally. You were told to conform to a Republican agenda or shut up. When you refused to march in step, you got Bush-whacked.
I read your brief and I know the drill. The erosion was slow and many of us barely noticed the small chiseling away of who and what we once were. Anchors and reporters depend on high ratings. If ratings fall in television, people get fired. In the months following 9/11, the President's approval rating was 86 percent, and that's when many in commercial journalism lost their way. To disagree or even ask a disagreeable question regarding the President and his decisions was interpreted as disloyal by many media corporations.
But now we have learned. Get the trashcan ready to catch the chips, because the chisel is swinging back the other way and we as journalists are about to regain our voices and America's trust. Dan - the Man - as we call him in Texas is reminding the media conglomerates how it is supposed to work. News and those who report it are not supposed to be for sale. Dan remembers, and he's about to explain it to us on a national scale, but first some explanations from my field of vision as to how we got here.
On January 2003, President Bush delivered his State of the Union address. Osama bin Laden turned into Saddam Hussein, and Afghanistan turned into Iraq. The press knew this was a bait and switch, but fearing reporters and anchors might appear unpatriotic, the corporate media made it clear that even if George W. Bush played twister in the nude while a few sheets to the wind instead of going to constitutional law classes at Yale, we were not allowed to talk about it.
Viacom and CBS, according to Dan, wanted to curry favor with the White House. There are very few media conglomerates that didn't. Cox Broadcasting banned the Dixie Chicks from radio stations because their lead singer made a remark under her breath criticizing the president! Not wanting to appear unpatriotic, the town criers did not cry out. Many corporate media reporters became stenographers, not reporters on that State of the Union day. Those in television journalism, particularly those working for a Fox affiliate, were not allowed to ask questions that could be perceived as unpatriotic, and every question was seen as unpatriotic. Monarchs and dictators don't allow questions. They also destroy those who speak ill of them. "Scooter - Valerie." "Rove - Anyone." Blackwater was running around in the name of the United States shooting first and asking questions later like third world rebels, and back at home, Fox became the fastest growing network with fearless leaders who believed in not only reporting the news but spinning it as well.
Just seven years ago, I looked up from my desk and saw my image on the MacNeil-Lehrer NewsHour as our staff of independent journalists was described as the best local news in the country. But war broke out and the Internet took off and all over the country local news ratings dropped as viewers turned to the national networks for news from the war fronts. Contrary to all logical thinking, local reporters looked at their retirement plans and their kids in college and promptly puckered their lips on the behinds of corporate media and smooched. If my kids were still in college I would not have the courage to write this now. In response to fewer viewers, local television panicked into a downward spiral and many a trusting viewer decided to go elsewhere. Corporate media was demanding reporters adapt to the point of our own extinction.
Morphed into propaganda machines - cheerleaders with pompoms - it was heartbreaking to watch the demise and media corporations always bass-akwards responses. With two wars on two fronts they decided to go "Local." Only local news. The war and the profound implications of it were relegated to 30 second stories buried deep into the newscast. (they don't need to know about that.--but there's a grass fire up the road!) If that's not manipulation, I don't know what is.
Here are some other sad results of this corporate bullying toward some of the best journalist in the country:
Anchors and reporters stopped asking why. The corporate media demanded nationalism without skepticism, believing ratings would fall further if reporters did their jobs.
Anchors and reporters starting taking their stories from satellite feeds coming directly to their desks and then standing in front of a chroma key delivering a story they did not collect and sometimes did not write. If viewers think every newscast looks the same that's why. It is.
Anchors and reporters allowed chroma key pictures of conflict areas to appear behind them giving viewers the false impression they were on the scene of the conflict instead of demanding to be sent there. Some could not even point out on the map behind them where the conflict was.
Anchors and reporters allowed management to hire entertainment reporters and producers. It's cheaper to entertain than to inform because an informed public makes wakes from slumber and makes noise.
Anchors and reporters began allowing precious hours meant for journalism to be filled with helicopter shots of the latest grassfire, traffic jam, or car chase, ala O.J.
Anchors and reporters allowed news directors and sales people to dictate their "look." Good journalism does not have a "look."
Anchors and reporters did not fight back when their investigative pieces were dropped. Managers feared losing advertising dollars and reporters acquiesced.
Anchors and reporters and producers agreed to story counts. Tell the story no matter how complicated in thirty seconds - throwing random and massive amounts of information at viewers without context.
Anchors and reporters started wearing American flags on their lapels. Some of whom never voted in any election.
Anchors and reporters began using genetically altered language: "War on Terrorism," without explaining that many people in the world think Americans are the terrorists.
Anchors and reporters started referring to the United States government as "We."
Anchors and reporters were handed press releases regarding corporate "mishaps" and began reading them verbatim. Like so: "Blank Oil Company had an explosion today; shelter in place, close the doors and windows, and don't go outside. However, the 'You've Got To Be Kidding Me Oil Company' says everything is fine."
Anchors and reporters agreed to report news that was already reported in newspapers and radio. Doing their own stories or advancing others creates controversy and potential lawsuits, betraying the sacred oath of corporate cronyism.
Anchors and reporters agreed to be physically altered in photographs, and airbrushed with make-up like playboy bunnies, as the media corporations ignored the news and invested in High Definition - hoping a grassfire on HD might look like news.
Anchors and reporters started advertising. "If you liked that story there will be more at six." "If you want to get more information go to www. you're_an_idiot.com. Makes you just want to scream: I'm here now; tell me now!
Anchors and reporters allowed producers to lead with Annie Nicole Smith instead of the "Scooter" Libby trial - making it clear that all sense of proportion and good judgment had been lost.
Corporations in this country are always a reflection of those in the White House. This White House is the Wild West, and corporations, even those who are charged with helping the public gain knowledge, are mining for gold. But today, when we had almost given up, Dan put his holster on.
THANK YOU DAN RATHER
Thank you Dan Rather. It's balls to the wall time, and as a fellow Texan, you sure came through.
As an investigative journalist who worked as both a reporter and anchor for the San Francisco Bay Area's highest rated newscast for 22 years, I can only say what happened to you nationally was also happening locally. You were told to conform to a Republican agenda or shut up. When you refused to march in step, you got Bush-whacked.
I read your brief and I know the drill. The erosion was slow and many of us barely noticed the small chiseling away of who and what we once were. Anchors and reporters depend on high ratings. If ratings fall in television, people get fired. In the months following 9/11, the President's approval rating was 86 percent, and that's when many in commercial journalism lost their way. To disagree or even ask a disagreeable question regarding the President and his decisions was interpreted as disloyal by many media corporations.
But now we have learned. Get the trashcan ready to catch the chips, because the chisel is swinging back the other way and we as journalists are about to regain our voices and America's trust. Dan - the Man - as we call him in Texas is reminding the media conglomerates how it is supposed to work. News and those who report it are not supposed to be for sale. Dan remembers, and he's about to explain it to us on a national scale, but first some explanations from my field of vision as to how we got here.
On January 2003, President Bush delivered his State of the Union address. Osama bin Laden turned into Saddam Hussein, and Afghanistan turned into Iraq. The press knew this was a bait and switch, but fearing reporters and anchors might appear unpatriotic, the corporate media made it clear that even if George W. Bush played twister in the nude while a few sheets to the wind instead of going to constitutional law classes at Yale, we were not allowed to talk about it.
Viacom and CBS, according to Dan, wanted to curry favor with the White House. There are very few media conglomerates that didn't. Cox Broadcasting banned the Dixie Chicks from radio stations because their lead singer made a remark under her breath criticizing the president! Not wanting to appear unpatriotic, the town criers did not cry out. Many corporate media reporters became stenographers, not reporters on that State of the Union day. Those in television journalism, particularly those working for a Fox affiliate, were not allowed to ask questions that could be perceived as unpatriotic, and every question was seen as unpatriotic. Monarchs and dictators don't allow questions. They also destroy those who speak ill of them. "Scooter - Valerie." "Rove - Anyone." Blackwater was running around in the name of the United States shooting first and asking questions later like third world rebels, and back at home, Fox became the fastest growing network with fearless leaders who believed in not only reporting the news but spinning it as well.
Just seven years ago, I looked up from my desk and saw my image on the MacNeil-Lehrer NewsHour as our staff of independent journalists was described as the best local news in the country. But war broke out and the Internet took off and all over the country local news ratings dropped as viewers turned to the national networks for news from the war fronts. Contrary to all logical thinking, local reporters looked at their retirement plans and their kids in college and promptly puckered their lips on the behinds of corporate media and smooched. If my kids were still in college I would not have the courage to write this now. In response to fewer viewers, local television panicked into a downward spiral and many a trusting viewer decided to go elsewhere. Corporate media was demanding reporters adapt to the point of our own extinction.
Morphed into propaganda machines - cheerleaders with pompoms - it was heartbreaking to watch the demise and media corporations always bass-akwards responses. With two wars on two fronts they decided to go "Local." Only local news. The war and the profound implications of it were relegated to 30 second stories buried deep into the newscast. (they don't need to know about that.--but there's a grass fire up the road!) If that's not manipulation, I don't know what is.
Here are some other sad results of this corporate bullying toward some of the best journalist in the country:
Anchors and reporters stopped asking why. The corporate media demanded nationalism without skepticism, believing ratings would fall further if reporters did their jobs.
Anchors and reporters starting taking their stories from satellite feeds coming directly to their desks and then standing in front of a chroma key delivering a story they did not collect and sometimes did not write. If viewers think every newscast looks the same that's why. It is.
Anchors and reporters allowed chroma key pictures of conflict areas to appear behind them giving viewers the false impression they were on the scene of the conflict instead of demanding to be sent there. Some could not even point out on the map behind them where the conflict was.
Anchors and reporters allowed management to hire entertainment reporters and producers. It's cheaper to entertain than to inform because an informed public makes wakes from slumber and makes noise.
Anchors and reporters began allowing precious hours meant for journalism to be filled with helicopter shots of the latest grassfire, traffic jam, or car chase, ala O.J.
Anchors and reporters allowed news directors and sales people to dictate their "look." Good journalism does not have a "look."
Anchors and reporters did not fight back when their investigative pieces were dropped. Managers feared losing advertising dollars and reporters acquiesced.
Anchors and reporters and producers agreed to story counts. Tell the story no matter how complicated in thirty seconds - throwing random and massive amounts of information at viewers without context.
Anchors and reporters started wearing American flags on their lapels. Some of whom never voted in any election.
Anchors and reporters began using genetically altered language: "War on Terrorism," without explaining that many people in the world think Americans are the terrorists.
Anchors and reporters started referring to the United States government as "We."
Anchors and reporters were handed press releases regarding corporate "mishaps" and began reading them verbatim. Like so: "Blank Oil Company had an explosion today; shelter in place, close the doors and windows, and don't go outside. However, the 'You've Got To Be Kidding Me Oil Company' says everything is fine."
Anchors and reporters agreed to report news that was already reported in newspapers and radio. Doing their own stories or advancing others creates controversy and potential lawsuits, betraying the sacred oath of corporate cronyism.
Anchors and reporters agreed to be physically altered in photographs, and airbrushed with make-up like playboy bunnies, as the media corporations ignored the news and invested in High Definition - hoping a grassfire on HD might look like news.
Anchors and reporters started advertising. "If you liked that story there will be more at six." "If you want to get more information go to www. you're_an_idiot.com. Makes you just want to scream: I'm here now; tell me now!
Anchors and reporters allowed producers to lead with Annie Nicole Smith instead of the "Scooter" Libby trial - making it clear that all sense of proportion and good judgment had been lost.
Corporations in this country are always a reflection of those in the White House. This White House is the Wild West, and corporations, even those who are charged with helping the public gain knowledge, are mining for gold. But today, when we had almost given up, Dan put his holster on.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
28 is the new 40
I went out Saturday night and had way too much to drink. It had been so long since I had done something like that, that I had temporarily forgotten how much my alcohol consumption tolerance has decreased since my younger days. It's now Thursday, and this is the first day since my night out that I feel back to normal. Pretty bad - a five day hangover, courtesy of six short hours of excess.
As I lay with a throbbing headache and nausea early this week, I began to think of how unmistakably old I feel. Back in the day, I could have drunk twice as much, stayed out half the night, and been fine the very next morning. What happened?? I'm still in my 20s!! (Not for much longer, granted, but still technically.)
So I started to take note of things that show my age and my place in life, and how having kids, being married, and growing up can make a 28-year old feel much, much older.
-- see above (5 day hangover)
-- I remember being 18 and taking two hours to get all gussied up, preparing to go to the liquor store, and hoping against all hope that the clerk would not ask me for ID. Now, though trips to the NSLC happen very seldom, they usually involve swinging by on my way home from the grocery store, dish-pan hands and all, frazzled hair and "mom jeans". And if the clerk asks me for ID, I strongly consider leaping over the counter and kissing him/her passionately on the lips.
-- My adult bedtime is much earlier than my teenage curfew.
-- Nice looking, young waiters call me "ma'am".
-- Going shopping used to be about enjoyable browsing and exciting sales, but with two squirming kids in tow, it has become an exercise in efficiency, patience, and survival.
-- Speaking of shopping, time, age, and experience have taught me a very important lesson: it's a courageous mother who braves Wal-Mart on Family Allowance day.
-- The make-up compacts, movie ticket stubs, and money previously found in my purse, have been replaced with an adequate supply of napkins, an emergency granola bar, and 16 dinkies.
-- Martha Stewart is my idol. And not for the purposes of bringing humor to this blog, I mean it. She's a genius and I love her. I'm serious.
-- My dream vacation, instead of including wine and dancing and romance, now involves hiring a babysitter, renting a hotel room, and sleeping for an uninterrupted three days.
-- Song stuck in my head in 1997: the new Backstreet Boys song. Song stuck in my head in 2007: the theme song from "The Backyardigans".
-- I can successfully feed a dog, wrestle a 2-year-old, tune out a 9-year-old, chop a green pepper, fold towels, make a phone call, and ponder the topic of my next blog - SIMULTANEOUSLY.
-- At times when I get mad at the kids, I give myself pause when I hear myself using the same threats my parents used on me...in the exact same menacing tone.
-- I am more aware than ever that toilet paper, soap, and milk do not just fall out of the sky. Until you're on your own, you don't realize that these items have to be purchased.
-- The end of summer and the beginning of the school year are suddenly cause for great celebration.
-- Richard Gere has gone from "old guy my friend's mom likes", to "oddly sexy".
-- There are only three sure things in life: death, taxes, and massive, unrelenting piles of laundry.
-- A lot of responsibility comes with being Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.
-- I am fairly well-versed on the topics of "High School Musical", B-Daman, and Grand Theft Auto.
-- Who would have thought I could derive so much unabashed joy from throw pillows, kitchen appliances, and a nice console table?
-- If you watch enough Treehouse, you'll find yourself thinking about the strangest things...like why Frank & Frank aren't in Special Ed, why Toopy hasn't addressed his obvious gender dysmorphia issues, and where the hell Max & Ruby's parents are.
-- No good comes of any conversation starting with the words "Visa", "Nova Scotia Power", or "Revenue Canada".
If you can't relate to at least one of the points above, I have to assume you're a single, childless, independently wealthy socialite with no responsibilities. Your obliviousness would almost be refreshing.
But for those of you who can relate, know that you're not alone. Lots can happen in 10 years, and, though we may not be capable of the same rowdy raucousness we once revelled in, we wear our stains and hangovers and stretch marks and frazzled hair like badges.
I've had my fill of freshman nonesense, and I'm glad that 28 is the new 40.
(I don't have the energy to have it any other way.)
As I lay with a throbbing headache and nausea early this week, I began to think of how unmistakably old I feel. Back in the day, I could have drunk twice as much, stayed out half the night, and been fine the very next morning. What happened?? I'm still in my 20s!! (Not for much longer, granted, but still technically.)
So I started to take note of things that show my age and my place in life, and how having kids, being married, and growing up can make a 28-year old feel much, much older.
-- see above (5 day hangover)
-- I remember being 18 and taking two hours to get all gussied up, preparing to go to the liquor store, and hoping against all hope that the clerk would not ask me for ID. Now, though trips to the NSLC happen very seldom, they usually involve swinging by on my way home from the grocery store, dish-pan hands and all, frazzled hair and "mom jeans". And if the clerk asks me for ID, I strongly consider leaping over the counter and kissing him/her passionately on the lips.
-- My adult bedtime is much earlier than my teenage curfew.
-- Nice looking, young waiters call me "ma'am".
-- Going shopping used to be about enjoyable browsing and exciting sales, but with two squirming kids in tow, it has become an exercise in efficiency, patience, and survival.
-- Speaking of shopping, time, age, and experience have taught me a very important lesson: it's a courageous mother who braves Wal-Mart on Family Allowance day.
-- The make-up compacts, movie ticket stubs, and money previously found in my purse, have been replaced with an adequate supply of napkins, an emergency granola bar, and 16 dinkies.
-- Martha Stewart is my idol. And not for the purposes of bringing humor to this blog, I mean it. She's a genius and I love her. I'm serious.
-- My dream vacation, instead of including wine and dancing and romance, now involves hiring a babysitter, renting a hotel room, and sleeping for an uninterrupted three days.
-- Song stuck in my head in 1997: the new Backstreet Boys song. Song stuck in my head in 2007: the theme song from "The Backyardigans".
-- I can successfully feed a dog, wrestle a 2-year-old, tune out a 9-year-old, chop a green pepper, fold towels, make a phone call, and ponder the topic of my next blog - SIMULTANEOUSLY.
-- At times when I get mad at the kids, I give myself pause when I hear myself using the same threats my parents used on me...in the exact same menacing tone.
-- I am more aware than ever that toilet paper, soap, and milk do not just fall out of the sky. Until you're on your own, you don't realize that these items have to be purchased.
-- The end of summer and the beginning of the school year are suddenly cause for great celebration.
-- Richard Gere has gone from "old guy my friend's mom likes", to "oddly sexy".
-- There are only three sure things in life: death, taxes, and massive, unrelenting piles of laundry.
-- A lot of responsibility comes with being Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.
-- I am fairly well-versed on the topics of "High School Musical", B-Daman, and Grand Theft Auto.
-- Who would have thought I could derive so much unabashed joy from throw pillows, kitchen appliances, and a nice console table?
-- If you watch enough Treehouse, you'll find yourself thinking about the strangest things...like why Frank & Frank aren't in Special Ed, why Toopy hasn't addressed his obvious gender dysmorphia issues, and where the hell Max & Ruby's parents are.
-- No good comes of any conversation starting with the words "Visa", "Nova Scotia Power", or "Revenue Canada".
If you can't relate to at least one of the points above, I have to assume you're a single, childless, independently wealthy socialite with no responsibilities. Your obliviousness would almost be refreshing.
But for those of you who can relate, know that you're not alone. Lots can happen in 10 years, and, though we may not be capable of the same rowdy raucousness we once revelled in, we wear our stains and hangovers and stretch marks and frazzled hair like badges.
I've had my fill of freshman nonesense, and I'm glad that 28 is the new 40.
(I don't have the energy to have it any other way.)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Color Purple
I saw the funniest political cartoon the other day. It was a huge picture of Oprah breastfeeding a baby Barack Obama. (Whoever writes/draws those things is a genius of John Stewart proportions.)
Oprah Winfrey is a very interesting subject. There is no middle ground with this woman - people either love her and adore her, or they despise her and want her off the air. But one thing is for certain: everyone knows who she is, and everyone has at least some opinion of her.
This is what I think.
I think women are much bigger fans of Oprah than men are, and I think there are two main reasons for this. First, Oprah is intimidating. She's a big personality, loud, unabashed, honest, rich, successful, powerful, with a zero poop-tolerance. She does not back down from dealing with tough issues that most people would choose to ignore. These traits must be difficult for some men to deal with. It is much easier for them to just call her names and roll their eyes at her, than it is to admit that she might just be more woman than they could handle, and could wipe the floor clean with them. Men have issues with that kind of thing. Sorry, men.
Secondly, Oprah attributes a great deal of human behavior to emotional and psychological influences, things that plenty of men don't want to discuss. "Mushy girl stuff" doesn't usually appeal to their practical nature, and Oprah loves talking about mushy girl stuff.
Anyway, I digress.
After laughing hysterically at this political cartoon, I started thinking about people's impression of Oprah. One thing that you often hear discussed, frequently, is that Oprah is racist, something I think is completely untrue. I know I'm supposed to be saying African-American (at least I think that's the politically correct terminology), but for the sake of not having to type those 16 characters over and over again, I'll use black....that should be ok for me to say since she often refers to herself as black. Oh well, I'll take my chances.
Oprah is black. A great number of her guests are also black. Plenty of the causes she supports and projects she's involved in have to do with issues in the black community. That this leads people to believe she's racist is complete hypocricy. I'm white. If someone told me to invision a woman who had been beaten by her husband, or a man who's beaten the odds and thrived with a severe disability, I would automatically picture a white woman and a white man. This has nothing to do with me being racist, it has to do with a tendancy to initially relate to people of my own race. It's not because I think that no black women are beaten by their husbands, nor is it because I don't think a black man could overcome a disability. So when Oprah's producers approach her with an idea for a show about great current musical performers, she might be first inclined to book Alicia Keys, where Dr. Phil might automatically think of Justin Timberlake. And when she's trying to book guests for a show about working mothers, the mothers she first pictures are probably going to be black. Do you see what I mean? It's about relating and familiarity and habit, rather than an intentional snub to white people. Maybe I haven't given the greatest explanation, but I'm sure someone catches my drift.
I also feel it necessary to mention how, 1)she is equally hard on every race and ethnicity when she smells B.S.; 2)she is eager to praise every race and ethnicity when she witnesses greatness, and; 3)she can do whatever she wants, since it's her TV show, and millions and billions of people are going to watch it regardless of what she does.
So here she is, Ms. O, publicly supporting a presidential candidate for the first time in her career, and he's black. Well guess what, I'm inclined to support Barack Obama too, and I'm white as the driven snow. Though I suspect our main reasons for liking him are different, I think we have one reason in common. Racism is a huge issue in the United States, even moreso than in Canada, I believe. What better way to turn all the back-woods, bigoted hillbillies on their ear, than to elect a black president? This might be an irresponsible reason, but it is excused by the fact that Mr. Obama is very intelligent and qualified, making him, in my opinion, an excellent candidate for Leader of the Free World. The fact that he's black is just icing on the cake for me, as I'm sure it is for Oprah as well, irresponsible or not.
I think racism is immature and petty. There are plenty of white people I love, and probably an equal number who I wish would get shot with a ball of their own snot. There are plenty of black people who are accomplished and outstanding, and plenty who are a pain in the ass. Character has nothing to do with race, and when people start to judge others based on character instead of race, the world will be a well-oiled machine.
It wouldn't matter if she was purple, I love Oprah. She's a smart lady with a good heart. I don't think she's racist at all. In fact, I think we share the same view of racism.
And what woman doesn't want to have something in common with Oprah?!?
Oprah Winfrey is a very interesting subject. There is no middle ground with this woman - people either love her and adore her, or they despise her and want her off the air. But one thing is for certain: everyone knows who she is, and everyone has at least some opinion of her.
This is what I think.
I think women are much bigger fans of Oprah than men are, and I think there are two main reasons for this. First, Oprah is intimidating. She's a big personality, loud, unabashed, honest, rich, successful, powerful, with a zero poop-tolerance. She does not back down from dealing with tough issues that most people would choose to ignore. These traits must be difficult for some men to deal with. It is much easier for them to just call her names and roll their eyes at her, than it is to admit that she might just be more woman than they could handle, and could wipe the floor clean with them. Men have issues with that kind of thing. Sorry, men.
Secondly, Oprah attributes a great deal of human behavior to emotional and psychological influences, things that plenty of men don't want to discuss. "Mushy girl stuff" doesn't usually appeal to their practical nature, and Oprah loves talking about mushy girl stuff.
Anyway, I digress.
After laughing hysterically at this political cartoon, I started thinking about people's impression of Oprah. One thing that you often hear discussed, frequently, is that Oprah is racist, something I think is completely untrue. I know I'm supposed to be saying African-American (at least I think that's the politically correct terminology), but for the sake of not having to type those 16 characters over and over again, I'll use black....that should be ok for me to say since she often refers to herself as black. Oh well, I'll take my chances.
Oprah is black. A great number of her guests are also black. Plenty of the causes she supports and projects she's involved in have to do with issues in the black community. That this leads people to believe she's racist is complete hypocricy. I'm white. If someone told me to invision a woman who had been beaten by her husband, or a man who's beaten the odds and thrived with a severe disability, I would automatically picture a white woman and a white man. This has nothing to do with me being racist, it has to do with a tendancy to initially relate to people of my own race. It's not because I think that no black women are beaten by their husbands, nor is it because I don't think a black man could overcome a disability. So when Oprah's producers approach her with an idea for a show about great current musical performers, she might be first inclined to book Alicia Keys, where Dr. Phil might automatically think of Justin Timberlake. And when she's trying to book guests for a show about working mothers, the mothers she first pictures are probably going to be black. Do you see what I mean? It's about relating and familiarity and habit, rather than an intentional snub to white people. Maybe I haven't given the greatest explanation, but I'm sure someone catches my drift.
I also feel it necessary to mention how, 1)she is equally hard on every race and ethnicity when she smells B.S.; 2)she is eager to praise every race and ethnicity when she witnesses greatness, and; 3)she can do whatever she wants, since it's her TV show, and millions and billions of people are going to watch it regardless of what she does.
So here she is, Ms. O, publicly supporting a presidential candidate for the first time in her career, and he's black. Well guess what, I'm inclined to support Barack Obama too, and I'm white as the driven snow. Though I suspect our main reasons for liking him are different, I think we have one reason in common. Racism is a huge issue in the United States, even moreso than in Canada, I believe. What better way to turn all the back-woods, bigoted hillbillies on their ear, than to elect a black president? This might be an irresponsible reason, but it is excused by the fact that Mr. Obama is very intelligent and qualified, making him, in my opinion, an excellent candidate for Leader of the Free World. The fact that he's black is just icing on the cake for me, as I'm sure it is for Oprah as well, irresponsible or not.
I think racism is immature and petty. There are plenty of white people I love, and probably an equal number who I wish would get shot with a ball of their own snot. There are plenty of black people who are accomplished and outstanding, and plenty who are a pain in the ass. Character has nothing to do with race, and when people start to judge others based on character instead of race, the world will be a well-oiled machine.
It wouldn't matter if she was purple, I love Oprah. She's a smart lady with a good heart. I don't think she's racist at all. In fact, I think we share the same view of racism.
And what woman doesn't want to have something in common with Oprah?!?
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Honorable Premier Ashley MacIssac??
A few months ago, I received an invitation to join a Facebook group called, "Make Cape Breton Canada's 11th Province!"....oh how cute, I thought....and I joined. Up until a few weeks ago, I thought it was a joke, a group probably started by some half-drunk political science student from UCCB (before you harp, yes, I know it goes by UCB now, but it will always be UCCB to most of us). But it's not a joke or a statement or a prank...it's an actual movement.
If you mosie on over to www.provinceofcapebreton.com , you'll find a plethora of information about this movement. The guy behind it is named Mark Macneill, a man from Mabou. This guy is no crackerjack dreamer; I have exchanged emails with him, and he comes across as a very intelligent man with a purpose and, more importantly, a plan. He is passionate about this provincehood movement, and has the facts, history, and vision to back it up. I had planned on writing with a summary and opinions and details, but I wouldn't even know where to begin, having tried several times. You are best left to log into the website and read for yourself.
It did get me thinking though, about the ramifications of this potential map alteration. What would Cape Breton really be like if we were, finally, our own province?
It's a running joke that mainland Nova Scotia is just a body of land off the coast of Cape Breton. Cape Bretoners are loud and proud and unique, a fact understood and accepted throughout Canada, and well documented to boot. My brother, before he left to go out west, had a huge "CAPE BRETONER FOR LIFE" tattoo emblazoned on his forearm, just to be sure everyone knew his mindset (what a patriot, I guess?). God help the person who would venture into Smooth Hermans and start a rant about how Halifax is a great city to represent Nova Scotia, or that Cape Breton is a back-woods kind of place. I'm not sure that person would make it out of the bar, or the island, alive.
Still in all, for the sake of humour, I'll continue. Caution to those Cape Bretoners who can't take a joke: you might want to stop reading now.
So let's say we did earn the title of Canada's 11th province...what next? First things first, it's Cape Breton....we'd have a HUGE party to celebrate. Yipee! Centre 200 jam packed with camoflage ski-doo suits as far as the eye can see. There would have to be an open bar (oh no, first day as it's own province and we've already accumulated a $4 million dollar deficit), and karaoke with Phil Kasouf. At the end of the night, the people who aren't fighting or smoking outside would see the unveiling of our provincial flag - Cape Breton tartan with a big Alexander Keith's symbol in the middle. Before the crowd dispersed, we could all join in with the Barra MacNeils and sing our national anthem...."We are an island, a rock in the stream, we are a people...."...c'mon, you know the words! What a great night that would be.
I guess we'd need a Premier before long. Rodney MacDonald might seem like the logical choice, being a homegrown boy himself, but he's in business on the mainland now. In a perfect world, it would come down to Ashley MacIsaac and Nash Brogan, wouldn't I just love to see that voting ballot. Whoever got the job, they could set up the Premier's office at UCB, and give free tuition to any student who could beat them in a drinking game. A sitting of the legislature could take place at Steel City, where all the ministers could take turns on the poker machines during the downtime. Randy MacDonald & Bob MacEachern could do a media scrum outside afterwards, and the Cape Breton post could cover all the action in print. I can see the headline now: "First CB Legislature Sits Over Potato Skins & Cheap Bar Shots".
Joe MacPhee could be the Sultan of St. Peter's, where Breakin' Tradition t-shirts would be mandatory attire to gain admission into the Lion's Hall dances.
Gordie Sampson could be Ambassador to Nashville.
Cape Breton Correction Centre, instead of throwing people in solitary confinement, would punish prisoners by playing Natalie MacMaster albums on a loop and making them eat fried mackrel.
The Summertime Revue could return to headline a concert at the Savoy Theatre, benefitting the Citizens Against Strip Mining and Christmas Daddies, respectively.
Cape Breton Regional Police would become the provincial police force, and God help us all.
Rita's Tea Room would be declared a Provincial Historic Site, as would the Blue Mist in Bras D'Or, The Carriage House in Port Hawkesbury, and the house that the Rankin Family grew up in.
Anyone born at St. Martha's in Antigonish instead of St. Rita's in Sydney would need immigration status.
All road signs would be posted in English, French, Gaelic, and MicMac, making it just as difficult as ever for a person to figure out where in the hell Forchu is at.
Oh, how I could go on and on and on.
But I won't.
I sincerely hope that Mr. Macneill finds success, although I'm still up in the air as to whether Cape Breton Island as its own province would be a viable prospect. Whatever your opinion, one thing is for sure: it has lots of potential to be the most interesting province, by a mile.
If you mosie on over to www.provinceofcapebreton.com , you'll find a plethora of information about this movement. The guy behind it is named Mark Macneill, a man from Mabou. This guy is no crackerjack dreamer; I have exchanged emails with him, and he comes across as a very intelligent man with a purpose and, more importantly, a plan. He is passionate about this provincehood movement, and has the facts, history, and vision to back it up. I had planned on writing with a summary and opinions and details, but I wouldn't even know where to begin, having tried several times. You are best left to log into the website and read for yourself.
It did get me thinking though, about the ramifications of this potential map alteration. What would Cape Breton really be like if we were, finally, our own province?
It's a running joke that mainland Nova Scotia is just a body of land off the coast of Cape Breton. Cape Bretoners are loud and proud and unique, a fact understood and accepted throughout Canada, and well documented to boot. My brother, before he left to go out west, had a huge "CAPE BRETONER FOR LIFE" tattoo emblazoned on his forearm, just to be sure everyone knew his mindset (what a patriot, I guess?). God help the person who would venture into Smooth Hermans and start a rant about how Halifax is a great city to represent Nova Scotia, or that Cape Breton is a back-woods kind of place. I'm not sure that person would make it out of the bar, or the island, alive.
Still in all, for the sake of humour, I'll continue. Caution to those Cape Bretoners who can't take a joke: you might want to stop reading now.
So let's say we did earn the title of Canada's 11th province...what next? First things first, it's Cape Breton....we'd have a HUGE party to celebrate. Yipee! Centre 200 jam packed with camoflage ski-doo suits as far as the eye can see. There would have to be an open bar (oh no, first day as it's own province and we've already accumulated a $4 million dollar deficit), and karaoke with Phil Kasouf. At the end of the night, the people who aren't fighting or smoking outside would see the unveiling of our provincial flag - Cape Breton tartan with a big Alexander Keith's symbol in the middle. Before the crowd dispersed, we could all join in with the Barra MacNeils and sing our national anthem...."We are an island, a rock in the stream, we are a people...."...c'mon, you know the words! What a great night that would be.
I guess we'd need a Premier before long. Rodney MacDonald might seem like the logical choice, being a homegrown boy himself, but he's in business on the mainland now. In a perfect world, it would come down to Ashley MacIsaac and Nash Brogan, wouldn't I just love to see that voting ballot. Whoever got the job, they could set up the Premier's office at UCB, and give free tuition to any student who could beat them in a drinking game. A sitting of the legislature could take place at Steel City, where all the ministers could take turns on the poker machines during the downtime. Randy MacDonald & Bob MacEachern could do a media scrum outside afterwards, and the Cape Breton post could cover all the action in print. I can see the headline now: "First CB Legislature Sits Over Potato Skins & Cheap Bar Shots".
Joe MacPhee could be the Sultan of St. Peter's, where Breakin' Tradition t-shirts would be mandatory attire to gain admission into the Lion's Hall dances.
Gordie Sampson could be Ambassador to Nashville.
Cape Breton Correction Centre, instead of throwing people in solitary confinement, would punish prisoners by playing Natalie MacMaster albums on a loop and making them eat fried mackrel.
The Summertime Revue could return to headline a concert at the Savoy Theatre, benefitting the Citizens Against Strip Mining and Christmas Daddies, respectively.
Cape Breton Regional Police would become the provincial police force, and God help us all.
Rita's Tea Room would be declared a Provincial Historic Site, as would the Blue Mist in Bras D'Or, The Carriage House in Port Hawkesbury, and the house that the Rankin Family grew up in.
Anyone born at St. Martha's in Antigonish instead of St. Rita's in Sydney would need immigration status.
All road signs would be posted in English, French, Gaelic, and MicMac, making it just as difficult as ever for a person to figure out where in the hell Forchu is at.
Oh, how I could go on and on and on.
But I won't.
I sincerely hope that Mr. Macneill finds success, although I'm still up in the air as to whether Cape Breton Island as its own province would be a viable prospect. Whatever your opinion, one thing is for sure: it has lots of potential to be the most interesting province, by a mile.
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