Friday, May 27, 2011

2-4-D; for DOW chemicals


Quebec has acknowledged, in a settlement of a pivotal NAFTA trade case, that a controversial pesticide it banned in 2006 doesn’t pose a significant risk to humans or the environment.

But the settlement isn’t likely to put the 2,4-D back on store shelves any time soon in Quebec – or in several other provinces where its use is restricted.

U.S.-based Dow AgroSciences LLC, which makes the pesticide, said Thursday that a deal to drop its North American free trade agreement challenge vindicates its contention that the product is safe if used as directed.

“Quebec’s decision never had a basis in science,” said Brenda Harris, the company’s Calgary-based manager of regulatory and government affairs. “And it cast a shadow on the safety of our product.” Ms. Harris said the case is about making sure governments are “transparent in their decision-making.”

In a statement, Quebec said its ban remains firmly in place and that 2,4-D continues to be a restricted chemical.
The pesticide 2,4-D, once sold widely throughout Canada under brand names such as Killex, is prohibited for lawn care in most provinces east of Manitoba as part of a much broader prohibition on so-called cosmetic lawn care products. The chemical is still widely used in agriculture and forestry. It’s also sold for cosmetic uses in the four western provinces and throughout the United States, Europe and Asia.

In justifying the ban, Quebec had initially identified 2,4-D as a possible carcinogen – a claim it failed to demonstrate. And that put the province at odds with Health Canada, which deems the product safe, sparking the company’s NAFTA case against the federal government. Claims can only be brought against NAFTA’s three signatories – Canada, the United States and Mexico.

This is the reason that corporations fight to the death to get free trade agreements put in place and kept in place. This the reason why free trade negotiations are discussed behind closed doors while 100,000 people riot in the streets outside. This is the reason why they have to erect fencing and create 'protest free' zones in our otherwise democratic cities, and make criminals out of peaceful citizens. Citizens that are fucking tired of being ass raped at every turn by criminal, genocidal fucking entities like DOW, who buy and fight their way into our democratically elected boardrooms.

DOW are the people who brought the world Agent Orange and many other disgusting and hateful and cruel and destructive chemicals. If you need a refresher on Agent Orange and its' use, look to the people of Vietnam, who were bombed en masse with Agent Orange, a chemical that was used as a de-foliant to kill all vegetation in the jungle, so that there was nowhere for the 'enemy' to hide as they dropped bombs and another chemical product created through the expert and barbaric DOW, Napalm. I am not saying DOW was solely responsible for the development of napalm, I do know that they were involved in the research and development process. Those of you unfamiliar with the workings of napalm, it was a sticky, extremely flammable substance that the Americans dropped on people, so that the burning material would stick to them, while still on fire, so that it would cause excruciating and lasting 3rd degree burns as it affixed itself to the skin.

The product Killex was, no doubt, a direct chemical descendant of Agent Orange. What a great family company. Stand up citizens of the world.

Anyway, I had a point here. Oh yeah, It was that these evil corporations will force their death causing products upon us whatever it takes. And all it takes in this case, my friends, is a lawsuit under chapter 11, under NAFTA. I have personally protested and fought against NAFTA and other free trade agreements just like it because this is exactly the kind of nefarious shit that comes out of these free trade deals.

I guess that shrew Brenda fucking Harris can say all she wants about how Quebec's decision to protect themselves against this volatile chemical, was not based in science, just as much as I can say that bitch's statements are not based in reality. I mean, come on, we all know that 2-4-D is a petroleum based product that smells like a chem bath and looks like an oil spill if you mix it with water. Carcinogen, assholes! It doesn't take a scientist to tell you that these products are deadly when it comes to long term exposure.

And for chrissakes, I am not even going to get into the fact that DOW bought up Union Carbide in 2001, the company responsible for the deaths of thousands of people in Bhopal, India in 1984, a tragedy that none of these chemical giants have paid a red fucking cent for. Not a cent. No prosecution. They claim it was sabotage by a disgruntled employee...

This pisses me off beyond all reasonable dialogue. Fuck NAFTA and Fuck DOW.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Living With Lions

The Vancouver based punk band Living With Lions has returned $13,248 to the FACTOR program, a federally funded artist loan program, that makes loans to bands and musical artists in order for them to produce recordings, videos or engineering.
Why would they do that you ask? Well, there is more to this story than is being reported in the MSM. What? Why wouldn't the MSM give us all the details in a story? Because that is how those biased fuckers roll. It is up to average citizens, with rage burning in their hearts and a need for justice that cannot be satiated without declaring their contempt for this corporate controlled, bullshit spewing thought control machine, to make public the rest of the story, after the presses have stopped.
I cannot declare that I know the full reasons that the band decided to return the cash. An abridged version would be that they do not want to change their art to suit the suits. This is very, very common in the creative world, the people with all the money want the artists to tone down what they have said or created because someone, somewhere, might be offended.

The band had depicted Jesus and the bible in a disparaging way in the album that received the government grant and when a right wing commentator, named Ezra Levant, made it public on his television show on the Sun Network, a shit storm ensued and all the usual whiners crawled out from under their rocks and got up onto their soap boxes and next thing you know, James Moore, the 'Minister of Deciding What is and What is not Art', weighed in and made a public statement about how the government did not know what the artists had made until after the funds were given and blah blah blah...
So what. They shouldn't have to worry that every word or picture from an artist will comply with their self appointed standards council. Ever heard of a little thing called free speech or freedom of expression?
Unless it is 'hate' or 'inciting violence', then it is good to go. That's right, moralists everywhere, you may not like what some people say, but our Charter guarantees the right to free speech and free expression. It is a little piece of paper that was drawn up in 1982, that you probably haven't even read. And if you have, then I think you should read it again because you obviously didn't understand it.

I don't like pictures or words that disparage Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha or any other so-called prophet that millions or even billions of people follow. I find it offensive. But would I be so offended that I demand it be destroyed or removed or defunded? No, I wouldn't. Because I respect the laws of freedom that allow us all to say whatever we want. That is one of the pillars of our so-called democracy.

And as for Ezra Levant and the Sun Network, these moralists have no problem with the government pouring billions of tax dollars into wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, the tar sands oil exploration or all sorts of other experiments in human suffering and environmental destruction. Ezra Levant wrote a book called Ethical Oil, if you can believe that. Maybe he is busy writing his follow-up, called 'Ethical Torture'.
The point I am making about Levant is that he gets all outraged when something offends him, but doesn't give a fuck about the people he offends on a daily basis. He published pictures of Mohammed and suicide bombers in his newspaper The Western Standard, back in 2006. These were the same pictures that were published by the Danish newspapers that caused massive outrage in the Muslim community around the globe. Danish consulates even came under attack. Those pictures offended literally a billion people.
Do I think Levant had a right to publish those pictures? Yes, I do. I think it was fucking arrogant and stupid but I must defend his right to do so. It is written in our Charter and it would be absolutely hypocritical of me not to stand up for that.
I am guessing that our federal government has given all sorts of grants and loans to people who have upset others with their opinions. It just so happens that we have a federal government in power now that has it's own mouthpiece, the same mouthpiece that Levant works for, Sun Networks.
This is the same Sun Networks that published the story about Michael Ignatieff posing with the US soldiers in Kuwait in 2002 and we later found out it wasn't even Ignatieff in the picture, this is the Sun Network that published the story about Jack Layton visiting a massage parlour in 1996 in Toronto and were investigated by the OPP for illegal journalistic practices. These stories would not have really mattered much had it not been in the last week before the federal election.
I smell a rat here, people. A foul, rotting rat, that is gonna stink up this whole country's discourse, like FOX news has done south of the border.
Again, these people have every right to say what they want, it is protected under the charter, just listen closely to what is said and the reaction that happens. It is always one-sided and what one person says or does or creates is offensive and hateful and what they say is news or opinions.
FOX news in the US has done a lot of damage to the political landscape in that country. Do we really need that kind of hate here?
As for Living With Lions, I am glad they gave the money back, instead of kowtowing to the man and altering their artistic vision. I won't be buying their music any time soon because I listen to jazz, classical and indie college stuff that I am sure they might find offensive.
And for people who are up on their soapboxes, trying to save the children and me from facing this type of 'offensive' punk music, I had never heard of Living With Lions last week and here I am writing about them. I also assume that the band will no longer need a FACTOR loan because their album sales probably just sky rocketed, thanks to all the publicity afforded them by said moralists.

Who's a Climate Scientist?

There are a lot of industry bosses, politicians, pundits, reporters, editorial writers, lawyers and just average mooks, that seem to think they have the knowledge to weigh in on climate change. I am surprised so many people know so much about complex science. Where did they learn all this? Impressive!
We hear from these people all the time, every day, everywhere we go. The thing is, we rarely hear from an actual climate scientist. Check out the link below to see a 2 minute rap by ACTUAL climate scientists. It is an amazing video. And after you watch it, read all the comments below, written by people who think they know more about climate science than climate scientists...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LiYZxOlCN10

Letter to Cairns Energy, Denmark, on their new drilling operation in Arctic waters, between Greenland and Canada:


Dear Oil Kings;
Please publish the response, or lack of response that you intend to enact, once the inevitable happens and the oil is left spewing into the sea. There are people in this world that care about the planet and do not worry, I am certainly not accusing you of this. I know that you enjoy weekends away with your friends and family and maybe you even recycle the cans that the tomatoes come in, when you make a good spaghetti sauce. But you do not care about the damage done by your company, as it drills into the ocean floor of one of the most pristine and beautiful and most unreachable places on Earth, especially by oil spill clean up crews and emergency workers. 
I think the use of the word Cairn for your oil drilling company is appropriate because a cairn is a memorial and that is exactly what will be needed for the area in which your company decides to start drilling for oil. Good luck with being a rich man, driving around in a fancy car and spending your money on lavish gifts for your wife and your mistresses, as you gain power in the corporate world. Your childhood dreams will come true and you will be more powerful than you ever imagined. Just thank God that you are not a dolphin, seal, whale, or any other oceanic creature that calls that area home.


Sincerely,
Tony Durke.

Oz pics...

                                   City sundown from the bike path
                                                     Going up to 2nd floor, NGV
                                  Yarra River at sunset
Colby-"Listen! If you don't smarten up, you're out!"
Me-"Oh yeah, out where?"
Colby-"Side!"

Some random numbers in support of PEACE.

#Casualties in Afghanistan:
Afghan troops killed [1] 8,587
Afghan troops seriously injured [2] 25,761
Afghan civilians killed [3] 8,813
Afghan civilians seriously injured [4] 15,863
U.S. troops killed [5] 1,140
U.S. troops seriously injured [6] 3,420
Other coalition troops killed [7] 772
Other coalition troops seriously injured [8] 2,316
Contractors killed [9] 298
Contractors seriously injured [10] 2,428
Journalists killed [11] 19
Journalists seriously injured [12] unknown
Total killed in Afghanistan 19,629
Total injured in Afghanistan 48,644

# Casualties in Iraq:
Iraqi troops killed [13] 30,000
Iraqi troops seriously injured [14] 90,000
Iraqi civilians killed [15] 864,531
Iraqi civilians seriously injured [16] 1,556,156
U.S. troops killed [17] 4,414
U.S. troops seriously injured [18] 31,882
Other coalition troops killed [19] 318
Other coalition troops seriously injured [20] 2,296
Contractors killed [21] 933
Contractors seriously injured [22] 10,569
Journalists killed [23] 142
Journalists seriously injured [24] unknown
Total killed in Iraq 900,338
Total injured in Iraq 1,690,903 



Wars for PEACE are the biggest fucking lie. Ever. There is no such thing. 

end of the 20th century, fireside.

We sat and smoked and drank
And played guitars and sang
It was the thing that seemed like purity
Creation was the king of all life
As we knew it
For now, for then
Cars and Families a distant second
In the tree of life
That we were living those days
Books were read and discussed
New authors, at least new to us
Travelling nowhere except in our minds
There were trips to the south or the east
from time to time
Reports were made and comparisons, too
Distant friends from me, to you
Journals passed around the fire
We couldn't believe what the others had seen
Upon mountains or the sea
Photographs and stories shared
We tried to listen, we tried to care
The elephant always loomed
Deep in the room
Never talked about until the time was right
Whenever that was was agreed upon
By a consortium of us
Spurred by spirits and delusions
and a healthy quantity of confusion
It was always settled before sunrise
Now matter how hard you tried
Or otherwise

Monday, May 23, 2011

A Sunday on Victoria Ave.

One and only
Thoughts deep
Message to keep
Through thick and thin
And hill and dale
We go, we win
With each other
Ponder future
Forgive the past
At last it's trust
And then we must
Stay together
To live in the present
This life we have been given
Never forsaken
Never verbatim
The words always change
On the way to your heart
And this I never knew
From the start
I do now
With your help
Thank you

Convent

Rainy day drive through the country
Eucalyptus, winding road, curio shops
Autobiography, old postcards and photographs
These places always smell the same
Old lady sits, disinterested
Doesn't care to sell anything today
Convent on hill, wet brick walk up
Wind blows in the door to chill bones
Rocket, mushroom, lemon, coffee
Stairways creak and if these walls could speak
The stories you would not believe
Art on walls, doors leading to more
I can see the whole valley
From the window of the bell tower
Paint peeled, old glass, aged wood 
Statues of values and virtues
Reds and greens and yellows and blues
Five dollars well spent
This old place is heaven sent
Or heaven bound
Were it's caregivers and the living
Makes me shiver in thought
In life and death and in between
Polynesian portraits alive in texture and colour
The trees outside shed their leaves to hide
From the approaching winter
And as we left
We could see our breath
Took the motorway back
Arrived from the north
For a change of setting
Sun broke clouds 
Giving birth to a whole new sky
As we arrived
The music seemed to be born again, too
Everything was new
As we wandered our way back home

Woolamai

Drove south on the highway
Clouds a thin veil in the sky
Listened to the radio
and one another's stories
They seem to never end
Through the fields and forests
We push on 
Island reached by bridge
Motorcycle, surfing paradise
Information centre
What is that incessant beeping?
On the road again
Through the rolling hills
Past beaches and ice cream stands
To a pub in a town that looks like
the place where I grew up
One horse, one street, one choice
For everything
An architectural, fashion disaster
A dock where a boy is a fishing master
Little creatures and deep fried features
We leave for the point where the seals lay
The wind blows your hair
The tall grass, an echidna digs in secret
We learn about dolphins and Bass Straight
The last stop on the island
A beach where the water crashes
Sea foam, blue, green
We look up and down the coast
Surfers roll in with the waves
An audience stands in the sands
Others change and rest in their vans
We shoot some pictures
Taste the salt
The setting Sun finds its' way to the horizon
Bleached blonde billabong beach 
We have reached the end of the isle
The miles between us and the city are many
It starts to get dark
We leave the park
The island
The sand 
In the car
From our boots
finds it's way back
to our roots
The Sea

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Dec. 31, 1999

You, my old friend
Know me well
Words and stories
left to tell
Are the memories
piling up like a snow drift?
Meeting by chance
An accident of sorts
That never got old
And grew through the years
Through hysterics and tears
Up at night, slept in the day
Boats in the waves
Or at the dock
Awareness and Consciousness
Krishnamurti or Sublime
Books and raps and rants
Wood, glass or jazz
Cold weather and desperation
Defined us
Inspired us
Guitars and magazines
Ecstasy, rage and need for change
fuelled by discontent, enlightenment
illumination
led the way in our dark
from a van to an old car park
Painted faces on new year's eve
You found who you were looking for
Amid the ragged assed broken glass
And vexations and awakenings
As the Sun came up, we were relieved
Yet disappointed
There was something new
In the morning air
Was it hope?

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

A perfect storm, August 1992

The boat left the dock at mid day
We were headed for the waters
That lie a long way from here
Three days travel at best
The radio told the weather
As well as the sky
Our bones, memory and faith
Shoals between us and freedom
Had stories and wrecks to to speak of
The ribs of a ghost lay with waves licking
Lapping at a once noble hull
Three hours and many hazards
Were between our position and safety
The open ocean
I had learned respect for her
I had been taught to stand in awe
She would shrug us off
A leviathan, a wretched wench
With a score to settle
For those who would meddle
With the ways of the Mother
The ropes were secured, the hatches tied
Phone calls made in earnest
An innocence lost but not let on
This voyage could be the last
We all knew it would not be so
Returning to the bars and streets and homes
Yes home, is the place you recalled
At time like these
The shelter of others diminished off the stern
As we travelled away
Birds in the trees and rocks on the shore
Gave way to gulls and waves of the sea
Albatross, mist and the need to be free
Diesel, salt, bacon and rust
Fill the air and our nostrils
The roll of the sea took hold of the boat
Tossing, pitching, ploughing, turning
The gear was readied as we moved out
Past the 1,000 fathom shelf
Out here, decisions are made with acumen
Accuracy and precision
There was no way to turn back
Once we reached this far
The sight of terra disappeared yesterday
The grounds we'll find tomorrow
The side band radio squawked and belched
Occasionally, Eventfully
We idled down as the shaft caused static
Reports from our fellow fishers
Received consideration and mathematics
As charts and thoughts were measured
Protractors and rulers and compass
Trepidation and experience
In collaboration to make a decision
We steered south, toward the North Island
The night was spent by dividing time
Wheel watches, 2 hours each
The moonlight glistened on the surface
Cold, crisp northwesterly wind
I always loved a NW wind
Deceitful in it's lack of rain
Creative in our activities, the days were long
The engine stayed at a steady RPM
As the third day darkened
The waves began to smash into our house
with force and determination
The boat began that pitch and yaw
Crested the tips of waves like an old man
The engine revved, rising as she reached the peak
And dove into the next
The water exploded and filled the bow
The anchor winch and chain disappeared for a time
The rusty metal clanking as it faced the assault
The voices on the radio became more expletive
As the onslaught escalated
So-and-so was in trouble with this or that
Anxiety found it's cruel way into our reluctant minds
By now we were 3 days from harbour
A place that was on all our minds now
As the hours passed and the wind reached hurricane force
Things started to come apart
Lines snapped, things were lost
Still, we refused to break out the survival suits
Every sailor knows this is failure
And we were a long way from failure
We still had the luxury of windows in the wheelhouse
We heard on the radio that so-and-so no longer does
The seas grew so mountainous
That we lost sight of the horizon
The boat idled for 2 days
Smashed by waves
It had been almost a week since we left
And as hastily as the storm had come
It disappeared
And left us ravaged
I never saw any of the crew weep
But I know we all did
The forecast had changed radically
Though we felt as though we had survived a war
There was still fishing to be done
We dropped the gear into the water
And spent the next two weeks filling the hold

Wash, rinse, repeat

Warriors of freedom
Chimes and crimes of passion
The walls fall
Down
The rain blows sideways
In our faces
The rebel wants change
Now, not later
And this is me Lord
This is me
The morning is always the same
Newspaper stories and songs
Of nothing or less
Protect us from your leaders
And your followers
The lights are blinding me
Again
The tales have been told 
These songs have been sung
Taken for granted 
Convictions and restrictions
don't bode well for lovers of art
Love, understanding
Left demanding the truth in the rain
Line up to tell them
Wake up to history
Our fathers
And mothers
Walked this road
On the way back home
Once

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Frank Lloyd Wright


Wood and metal
Rectangles and squares
Comfort and style
Distance and focus
Miles of heart went into the art
 Obsessive persuasive direction
Left us all with magnificent dimensions
Majesty and tragedy fell close to home
Measured reflection of conditioned creation
resolution of fruition

chromatic

The designing principle of life
is love of colour 
blood, no regrets and tone
Hue and vitality
We stand as one
In the face of insipid validity
The greys 
Tears are clear 
As they run down the face
True to it
We grow with it
And revel in it, awash
With the authentic directness
The selfless
undeniable consciousness 
The colour of my heart
is love.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

BCS, 2009


Sea of Cortez
Rolls in and breaks on the shore
Blue, warm, clear and alive
The east cape is teeming
Turtles and rocks glisten
In the hot Sun of the day
We stop to measure the life of it
A miracle striving to exist at all
The shores beckon like a siren
The water is pure and clean
The roads tell the story of desolation
Dusty tracks winding off into the heat
Waves of vision in the distance
Palapa beach and Jennifer beagle
A barking dog chased the truck
The car backed onto a rock
Damage fixed with prayer and beer
Shrimp tacos, blue eyed dogs at Pulmo
Blue paint and diver's flags
A corner store that sells tortillas
Road trip round the west side
Pacific waves break on the shore
Hotel California margarita
All saints for sale in tourista shop
La Paz sunset, Palmero's piano
Wrong way on a one way street
Ballandra deep blue bliss
The fish swim in formation
We blend in with the locals
And see Snow Walker on king size
Return to San Jose and the water
The blue water
The friendship thickens

Highway 16, July 2007

I woke early to the sound of mosquitos
It was just getting light.
Dawn. Soon. 5:30am.
The tent was dry inside
I lay there, with a dry mouth
and a head full of thoughts
I recalled the night before
When I had found this place
Riding the motorcycle at a decent clip
About an hour east of Prince George
I had left Fort St. John early that morning
and rode all day, south
I wanted to camp in the wilds
As I had done throughout this journey
At least when I could
I liked the feeling of being alone
In the wilderness
With a book, a candle and some music
The motorcycle sat beside the tent
Spark plug removed, just in case
Nobody was starting up that bike but me
I was riding along the highway,
scanning the shoulder for a trail or a service road
where I could pull off and find refuge
away from the noise of the trucks in the night
I lit a small fire to keep the mosquitos at bay
And to feel some comfort in this place
I read some of the Steinbeck
Red Pony, what else would you read
at times like these?
I tried tuning in some radio,
all I could get was new country stations
And I think that is the most depressing music in the world
I just sat in silence after a while
Listening to the odd cricket or frog
I eventually drifted off and dreamt
In the morning I poked my head out
Into the dawn and looked at the sky.
It was going to rain, I was sure of it.
Apprehension filled my mind
I had a long ride ahead
And rain is no companion to the rider
I packed up the tent and the stove
and the tarp and my clothes
I loaded them onto the bike
Secured them with my bungee straps
Filled saddle bags
Started the engine and let it warm up
Glanced around the camp
I am always a bit pensive to leave
Like I have memory there now
Some sort of personal ownership
The place offered me shelter, after all
I throw a leg over the bike and idle out of the clearing
Down the gravel track
Out to the highway.
A semi trailer truck passes
It is starting to rain
My coat is zipped up tight to my chin
I pull out onto the highway and accelerate
As as I do every morning
I ride for a while and look for a place
To pull over for a coffee
And perhaps some breakfast...

Call Inlet, 1998

We crept up the hill
A breakneck snail's pace
You had grown tired
Of my constant objection
It was my way, my seat at the table
Another voice
A choice of the people
We crested and saw the valley below
We were so high
The clouds swirled around us
Like a pack of wild dogs
We sat and smoked 
And bathed in the silence
of that vast place
The ground and trees and grasses
Wet and shivering
Waiting for a change of season
Like us, they had grown weary
Of the long, cold winter
Up here, it felt lonely
We had each other
But we always did
Talking as we worked our way
Through the brush and the shrubs
Friends, foes, fingers and toes
And words to songs we never wrote
The day always ended up here
The descent marked the expiration 
Tired bodies, tired minds
I knew we would always find
The way back to the landing pad
Before darkness fell
The loam, the peat, the rock, the stories
Abandoned quarries 
Taken back by mother nature
Disappeared into the Earth again
Roads reclaimed by growth 
Rushing waters
And hope
It was a long way down from here
Marked by the trail we had left
Bereft, bankrupt but triumphant
Life lay before us like a map
We began to run down the mountain... 

City 1

Song from voice
The choice is yours
Who to tell
Me
Them
Defeat is on your lips
On the ships
The chicks
Are the ones
Who are reborn
Every day
Every way
The song carries on
through it all
in the sky
in the park
in your heart
No more lies
You have tried
to confuse and abuse them
They are free now
To get lost
In the absurd words
Like death from a prophet
Lightning never strikes twice
It is nice 
to see you again
The beat goes on
Even if you aren't listening
But you are
I see you there
You see me too
And state your point of view
We have known each other
Since our mothers
Knew we were children
The nest was empty
As soon as we left
And the song
Played on
into the day and night
The fright is what kept us sane
And in line
It is fine, to run
When you are tired and scared

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

War doesn't work.

Conventional warfare and terrorist warfare do not solve anything. They only serve to create more war and kill more people. It is time to put the myth of 'war for peace' to bed, for good. The killing of Bin Laden (if it went down like that) has only furthered this opinion. Why send in 100,000 troops to do the job that a few highly trained personnel could pull off, without any collateral damage?    

http://www.thomhartmann.com/bigpicture/thom-hartmann-less-bush-and-bin-laden-and-more-gandhi-and-king

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

More on Bin Laden...

Alright, I know, I am on a bit of a thing here with the whole 'death' of Bin Laden thing. This is my last word on it. I stated earlier, and provided links to some material that supported the opinion that Osama Bin Laden was already dead, was not dead, did not exist in the first place. Challenging stuff, I know.
So, check this out, people; Does al Qaeda even exist at all?
Please watch the following:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mztfFdpd1Rk
The votes have been cast, the ballots have been counted, the  results have been published. The conservative, Harper government have taken Canada by storm. If you can call a 2% gain, overall, a storm. I would call it a weak and limp crawl across the finish line. I know, all you conservatives are saying it is a windfall, a solid majority to carry out the wishes of the citizens of this great country.
Well, I say fuck that. And I say fuck you to this majority. I do not deny them of their win. I do not deny them of their legal victory. But, I want to know just who these people are. Come on. Who are you? Are you baby boomers? Young people? Are you my grandparents? You are all of these, aren't you?
Well, I understand your fear because we live in a fear based society. We live in a society in which it is normal to dance in the streets when you receive news of the death of a man, a society where you cheer the fallen soldiers of a nation much like yours. A society that distorts the teachings of Jesus to suit its' own capitalist, selfish needs, a society that throws people out onto the streets, while we sleep in the warmth and comfort of our homes.
We have begun to question Roe vs. Wade, we question the word of climate science when we cannot even understand the basic principles of grade 11 science classes. We openly mock a man who calls for equality of men and women, while we idolise a man who takes away the choice of women to make choices regarding their own bodies.
We champion the dropping of bombs on poor people because they refute the principles of democracy, while only just a bit more than half of us even bother to fucking show up at the polls on election day.
We want to deny justice to people who have lost their way and need help.
My friends, this is not the Canadian way!
Or is it? Am I just a relic of the idealistic old Canada? Do I spend my days listening to radio shows on CBC, while ignoring the masses, who demand the privatisation and marginalization of the tenets of Canadian democracy?
I think I am. I have spent years and months and weeks and days standing up for the things that more and more of you want to give away. Like civil liberties, rights, dreams, property, freedom, national unity, pride and peace.
Well, fuck you. I have spent days inhaling tear gas and getting shot with rubber bullets and beaten by police, only to have you fucking sell out whores give it all away.
There are soldiers that have died for you to go to the polls, protesters who have taken the fall for you, legislators who have worked tirelessly to stand up for you.
People like Jaggi Singh, Naomi Klein, Murray Dobbin, Ken Dryden, Bruce Cockburn, Paul Watson, Marc Emery, Ed Broadbent, Maude Barlow, David Suzuki, Michael Moore, Alexandra Morton and countless other people that I have neglected to mention, have worked tirelessly to try to preserve this country and its' people, in the face of corporate and political greed.
And what have you done? You have voted the foxes into the fucking henhouses.
I hope you reap what you have sewn.
Assholes.
THE CHEAPER SHOW NO. 9 - Black and Yellow Gallery

LOUD CLOUD | New Works by Andrea Pinheiro

You Are The Chosen Ones
Opening Reception Thursday, May 5th 7 to 10pm 
Exhibition runs May 6th to May 28th
In Loud Cloud, Andrea Pinheiro uses various methods of print, paint and video to explore the lineage of a ruin. Working with airplane fuselage as a stamp for shape and surface, she disrupts the conventional fate of the discarded. Creating new forms from remains, she invigorates the context and life of the obsolete object. The contrast of discard and permanence mirrors her interest in aeroplanes. Attracted to the extremely differing experiences of the freedom of flying at great heights and traveling vast distances while being contained in the heterotopic space of the aircraft.
“It was nothing other than a yearning for speed... for flight...which, seeking an outward shape, brought about the birth of the airplane. For the airplane was not contrived in order to carry business letters from Berlin to Moscow, but rather in obedience to the irresistible drive of this yearning for speed to take on external form.” -Suprematist Manifesto, Malevich
Please join us for our opening reception May 5th at Black & Yellow
The Waldorf Hotel
Room 106
1489 East Hastings
Vancouver, BC
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