We just dodged a bullet when the referendum to implement some form of Proportional Representation failed…………..whew.
Up until this vote occurred I did some research on this issue….so you don’t have to. By the way Fair Vote Canada’s argument to trash our electoral process to one that was all inclusive was very misleading. Of course the Greens and NDP were pushing hard for this as it favours left wing coalitions and makes it extremely hard if not impossible for a centre right conservative party from ever gaining power again.
“PR? Well I tink it goes a somethin lika dis…………………….I tink. Hey…. Mama Mia.”
Well I just read an article by a group that want to change our electoral process from a First Past the Post system to one of Proportional Representation. Their primary argument was, among many, that Canada had one of the most unstable governments of the developed democracies. They cite Italy as an example of electoral stability.
I don’t know about you but as soon as I read that comment their argument became as mushy as a wet noodle or an overcooked bowl of pasta without the meat sauce. They point out that because Canada has had 22 elections as opposed to Italy’s 18 since WW2 that somehow Italy’s electoral process is a model of stability. Holy ravioli, it cannot be. Well it isn’t:
Yes Canada has had 22 elections since WW2 but I would say that this is a reflection of how strong and stable our system of government is.
Canada has a parliamentary system of government based upon Westminster that calls for an election, until Harper’s fixed election date decree, of every 5 years. That alone would require an election every 14.2 years in Canada since 1945 if all governments were majority in nature. But they haven’t been and I would argue that that is also a good thing because the strength of our democracy and parliamentary system of government holds poor governments to account (remember Joe Clark, Meighen) by forcing them to go to the polls for public validation. Minorities can also provide strong legislative government as reflected by Pearson’s successful minority governments of the mid 1960s.
Our system also prevents potential constitutional crises – Mackenzie King, Bing affair comes to mind – something that Italy could only hope for. By the way, Italy may have had only 18 elections since WW2 but they have had 65 different governments since 1945, and therein lies the problem that can arise with Proportional Representation (PR). Nothing gets done. Why? Because governance coalitions are necessary for power and political survival in these countries with their PR systems of government.
Unfortunately, by their very nature, they are unstable. Can you imagine the chaos in Canada if the Layton, Dion and Duceppe coalition had taken down Harper’s minority government back in December 2008? Luckily, through our strong and stable system of rules and protocols, Harper was able to prorogue parliament and thus avoid political instability in this country. The Liberals backed down from the coalition early in 2009. Whew! Of course all of the lefties blew a hissy fit and spewed their spaghetti all over their bibs.
As an example of the efficacy of Italy’s PR system, here are some facts about Italy’s 2008 election:
“An early election was called (in Italy) when Romano Prodi resigned as prime minister in January, after the collapse of his centre-left coalition, which had been in power for just 20 months…only one Italian government has lasted a full five-year term in the last 50 years, led by conservative Silvio Berlusconi between 2001-2006 and even he was forced to resign once during that time by fractious allies.”
“Italians blame electoral laws for chronic instability that brought down the 61st government since World War Two in January. The system, still in use, mixes proportional representation with a threshold of 2 percent for parties in a coalition and 4 percent for single parties. It permitted more than 20 parties to take seats in 2006.”
And the real kicker here is:
“Both Berlusconi and Veltroni favoured altering the system to reduce the PR element and push Italy towards a two-party system.” Unfortunately, for Italy, that hasn’t happened yet.
When I was about 17 I took my first of many treks from my home town back east to the west coast of Canada – a long and torturous trip for a young impressionable buck like me. The following is an excerpt from that first sojourn away from home. I hope you enjoy it:
Back in the day my employment prospects, while numerous, were never really career worthy. So in between jobs, or between a period of steady employment I would sometimes hit the road and do some travelling. My first bit of travel occurred just after working for A.C. Wickman. While working there polishing the fat wide ends of the tiny drill bits I was let go just one day before my three month probation period ended. All of us rookies, who had all started at this factory on the same day, were all released, terminated, let go, made redundant, superfluous, surplus, unused, outmoded, unnecessary….fired. It didn’t matter how or why or what you said to describe your circumstances, situation or bit of bad luck.
It all meant the same damn thing. Pogey! And how I love that word redundant! Code for fired. A nice English bit of linguistic mumbo jumbo, confusion-speak to tell someone that they’re sacked.
“You’re being made redundant” someone once told me. Great! I thought I was getting a promotion. Redundant… wow.
I decided to head to the west coast. By train! The Transcontinental…all the way and all by myself. Well not really by myself when I got there as my penultimate oldest sister was shacked up with a Japanese fellow. Her best girlfriend, my next door neighbour’s daughter, was also out there. You see, this was 1968, the year after the summer of love. Yet 1966-69 was, in reality, the longest summer of love in history. And “go west young man” was really hippie-speak for the wider, greener pastures of acid rain, or West Coast Bud. And I could stay with them until I got settled.
“Why not just stay here and be a stoner” someone once said. “Why go all the way out there?”
“Well, man, sunsets are really, really weird out there.” another answered.
“How so?” they queried. “You can’t see them anyway cause it’s always raining out there.”
“Well man… because man, it’s like, wow man, out of site…but there is no land anywhere west of there. Don’t you think that is sooo cool. Soooo out of site. Land I mean. You can’t see any land man. It’s out of site”
“Well yes” they thought of this stupid idiot. “Land is out of site west of there cause it’s all Pacific ocean from there on in. Until you hit Japan.”
“Japan? Like wow man! Japan? Really? Man, that is so weird, so cool, that is so profound man.”
Good gawd I thought. The future of mankind!
My parents were fine with this although they were entirely tuned out of the reality of the drug culture. Unbeknownst to them they were letting their young son, at 17, to hit the long and winding, purple hazed road of personal freedom. I can say this now, looking back on those years, but at the time I was scared shitless.
I boarded coach on the Transcontinental at the very large cavernous platform of the enormous train station that served my hometown for over a hundred years. I could imagine then and there, at that very moment in time, how the soldiers of the Great War and World War Two felt when leaving the familiarity and warmth of families and loved ones for the trenches of France and Belgium, or the training fields of England, knowing full well that many of them would not be returning to the comforts of home. Why did I feel this way? Think this way? At this particular moment? I don’t really know but the images of troops on trains in cavernous train stations like this one just seemed to pop into my head for no apparent reason: as if it had been ingrained into my psyche from such a young age that their individual and collective sacrifices paved the way for my very own freedom of choice at this very moment in time. And, as I was waving goodbye to my parents just as the Transcontinental was slowly leaving the station, I could almost see or visualize the spectres of long lost souls roaming about this very station looking for and finding, waving goodbye to their friends, their families and their loved ones for the very last time, for eternity. These willowy images dissipating slowly like some afterthought in a mist of memory in the stillness of time.
It took over three days to reach the coast. I was dead tired as it was extremely difficult to sleep in coach. The scenery for a young lad was extremely boring. Trees, and lakes; trees and lakes; the occasional hill covered with trees then more lakes with trees around them. Muskeg, Muskox and Muskrat – it was rather musky out there with a lot of musky critters running or scampering through the musky forests of trees and lakes and streams. Then more trees and more lakes and more trees and… trees. Finally, no more trees. Just flat grassland. A sea, no an ocean of grass. More grass, then a lake, maybe a river bounded by grass on all sides, but no trees, just grass. As far as the eye could see. Grass! Sometimes a small rise would come into view, a small hill covered with grass. I dreamed of grass, of trees, of lakes, of grassy knolls. It was weird man and I was no stoner.
Finally hills, as barren as Sister Mary Bernice, my grade school principal, morphed into bigger hills which transformed into very large hills with deep, deep valleys. Valley’s covered with trees. The mountains, the Rocky Mountains: all the granite one could ever imagine. Most people see these mountains as majestic, beautiful, God’s handiwork, a reflection of his power: the very smallness of mankind in full view when measured against this spectacular backdrop. Yet all I could think of was granite. Enough granite to cover every kitchen counter top on the planet. But wait, that wouldn’t occur for another thirty years. What was I thinking?
Mountains, and more mountains, snow covered, nature’s monuments. Mountain passes that scoured a route for the early explorers: Lewis and Clark, Thompson, Fraser, Carson, DiCrapio, Morrison I thought. Unbelievable! Then darkness. What? These idiot trainers scheduled the very best transit, the transit through the mountains, to occur at night? Dopes! And they called us stoners! Alas, we would arrive at our west coast destination in the morning? Try to get some sleep I thought but in Coach that was an impossibility.
Waking up to a slow moving chugalug train inching its way it seemed into the outer burbs and run-down industrial sites of this so called magnificent coastal city. Magnificent in that it was a large metropolitan area surrounded be the majesty of the coastal mountain range and the Cascades: a nice name for a string of active, dormant and extinct volcanoes. Think of Mount St Helens, Rainier, Hood, Baker, Shasta and other non descript names for mountains that have the potential of reeking natural havoc, cascading death and destruction on an unsuspecting, unassuming public. These mountainous, frighteningly natural megaliths formed a formidable barrier to the north and east of the city’s metropolis but then offset by the calm waters of the Pacific Ocean bordering its northwest, west and south-western flanks. Only problem with this visual description was the curtain of rain, drizzle and mist that permeated my vision out of the coach’s dirty windows. These titans of nature and the oceanic beauty and seemingly calmness of the Pacific were really just figments of my active imagination in all of this rain, or as a described picture by some nature magazine article I read about the place.
My first impressions were not good. I found the outer fringes of this city in disarray: disorganized, third worldly in its ardour and its feel. Low rise buildings of various sizes and shapes with facades of every colour of the rainbow. Ugly purples, grotesque yellows and grim orange decor trims added to this canvass of dirty grey stucco buildings and rusted out arches and gantries of the numerous bridges that spanned the delta of a mighty river. With the dreariness of the rain and the drabness of the grey skies these colours and contours were transformed and morphed into a visual scene that reminded me of some hippy’s bad acid dream of an undulating kaleidoscope landscape of a barf induced wasteland. When we finally reached the western terminus of this national journey, and could go no further, a young fellow like me could only sigh a sigh of relief that the torturous three and a half day trek in coach was finally over.
My sister met me at the station then took me to their abode in the downtown core. They had rented an apartment in the City’s west end, very close to the beach of the British sounding bay with water that was so cold as to render it un-swimmable. One would have an extremely difficult time finding one’s privates after a swim in waters such as this. And who was one anyway? Close to that were funky looking shops and high rise concourses that spread their way along narrow streets, avenues and boulevards toward a massive green expanse of a park that adorned itself with towering trees of old growth forest. But in the rain these towering, magnificent giants of nature were mostly obscured by the fog in the midst of a city that was blanketed for the most part of the year by a canopy of clouds and mist. With all of this rain the buildings of the downtown core exuded a depressed aura of doom and gloom being grey on the mind, grey on one’s thoughts with an outlook of a grey depressing world in the midst of all of this precipitation.
“But at least it’s not snow, you don’t have to shovel it,” I heard over and over again. Yes, but saying this was really a defensive mechanism on one’s part, a sense of insecurity or rationalization by some idiot who chose, regrettably, to live in such a grey expanse of concrete within what is, in reality, an urban rain forest. After a few days of this I wondered how anyone in their right mind could live here. The dampness of the place was bone chilling and mould worthy.
But then again I guess home is where the heart is.
(c) Shakeyjay 2016
*Excerpt from my soon to be published book: “I Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven”
Given all the protests out there I thought this past post was still relevant…..
Hidden Agenda? So who has the hidden agenda? Harper or Trudeau?
“Kinder Morgan is important for our national interest” Trudeau tells Canadians and then on the world stage tells France and European Leaders that he is ashamed of Alberta’s oil sands and will do all that he can to shut them down.
Commenting on the high price of gas in Vancouver and Victoria – most expensive in North America – well, he is in total agreement: “This is exactly what we want….yesssss!”
This puppet is out to destroy the Canadian economy and emasculate Alberta’s livelihood. He is a feminist after all. The premier of BC and his puppet-master, the leader of the green party, are ecstatic over this. The sad thing is that they were voted in in the first place and will probably win another term. Reminds me of my comment about MacDonald’s. They raised their menu prices and sales soared….duh?
“I have a dream…….man”
“And it doesn’t include you”
This gas thingy can really turn me on….man.Compared to Harper this man’s dream is a nightmare!
Have to laugh at a survey done about countries that have the most freedom. Sweden, Norway and Finland tied for first. Are you kidding me? These countries are probably the most regulated countries in the world. Consider 250 regulations on how cucumbers are to be grown and distributed. And, they have to be as strait as an arrow man-people. They, the cucumbers that is, cannot be bent. Well, is that freedom? Straight? The LGBTQRSTUVWXY and Z crowd in these places are all in a tizzy over that bit of news. No, no, no.. you cannot do what you want in these places and the taxes are sky high. Just ask a cucumber farmer and he’ll tell you straight up!
The UN is all excited about this one. If the Scandinavian countries can pull “the sheep’s wool” over our eyes with this stat just think what we could do with the sale and regulation of “wellies” all over the sheep farming world. Finally, a new world order. “One world government here we cum…er come!” the head of the UN – who wished to remain anonymous – remarked recently.
And, have you seen Sweden lately?
“We want to be like Norway!”
“Their cucumbers are straighter than ours…shameful!”
A Swedish cucumber grown in Sweden’s red light district:
The response was immediate:
Sweden’s cucumber riot squad hit the streets:
“And what about Swedish meat balls?” someone asked
“Don’t even go there!” the police responded.
And in Finland? The # 1 freedom country in the world? Just as straight as can be man!
Next week? Zucchinis!
From the…they just cannot give it up file comes this headline from the Hill:
“Impeachment Looms Large in the White House”
Just one day after the leader of South Korea stated publicly that Trump should win the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts in ending the Korean War and bringing peace to the peninsula after 63 years….Geesh.
“Yeah but….” Nancy Pelosi, who wishes to remain anonymous, stated categorically. “We all know it was Bernie Sanders who played his cards appropriately in this showdown with North Korea, not Trump.
“Damn you Who Flung Poo” Bernie shouted at the leader of North Korea while at the negotiating table. “Hearts are trump, not spades….hearts” Poo took out his clubs and whacked Bernie with all he had.
“I call” he said.
Bernie, in desperation yelled. “This is Bridge you idiot…Bridge. Not some international poker game. This is serious business. It saved me during my University days…… I’ll lead off here with…. “jacks””
“Okay? Fish!” Poo answered.
And so it was. Bernie Sanders played Euchre with the leader of North Korea all day and finally won. For his efforts and perseverance he is up for the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize in trumping North Korea.
As for Trump? Last time I heard it was diamonds.
It would appear these guys have sh*t for brains:
Beckham shows off his latest tattoos
Just wait until you are old and wrinkly dude.
Only in Canada would you hear or see this headline…and in French too!
And in typical Liberal…ese……”Well, it depends! Are you a man-people or a wo-people?”
“Neither. Hey, I am a zay, maybe a zee, or a zit, or a zat. Mr More-Dough…Canada’s financial wizard dude”
And from another original Canadian thought comes this:
Ottawa demands that North Korea abandon its nuclear program.
Or else, we will send our covert surveillance resources to spy on you!
The leader of North Korea responds in kind:
“Can Canadian slub slink? Me slinks not”
I can see you Canada…ooooo, I am soooo scared.
Enough of this, or that, or zay, zee, zits or zat.
Non Binary? The gift that keeps on giving to bloggers like me.
Song of the Day:
A very young Johnny Depp
Have a great Navy Day and a great weekend. Read ya Monday.
Couple of incidences occurred over the holidays that came to my attention. One of these merits a Darwin Award nomination. For those that don’t know The Darwin Award is given to those individual(s), who by some nefarious deed, attempt some stunt, or conduct some activity that when executed correctly potentially saves mankind in an indirect manner by taking themselves, and hence their potential offspring, out of the gene pool.
Runners up to this award are those individuals who survive their deeds but are sure to succeed at another time through sheer personal tenacity, or what others would call…stupidity.
Potential Darwin Award winners and runner ups:
Don’t try this at home:
Team awards are also given out:
It would appear that some dude wanted to inflate his king size air mattress to use in one of his spare bedrooms at home. Rather than use traditional means of inflation such as physical blowing through his mouth or the use of a hand pump, this dude took one of those aerosol tire inflators to do the job. As it was late in the evening and the lighting was dim in this room he decided to light a candle such that he could see what was going on. A few minutes into this routine a loud explosion was heard emitting from the back of the house. His son ran down to the room to find out what all the commotion was all about. When he opened the door to the bedroom he was shocked to see that the back exterior wall had been blown out; the window shattered with such force that shards of glass were found across the street in the neighbours yard and that his father was still alive but required immediate medical treatment for a collapsed lung. As he was being helped into the ambulance he could be heard muttering: “I should have read the instructions, I should have read the instructions.”
Yes dude you should have, but after all, you are a male.
The only good thing that came out of all of this was that he now had the opening for the rear bedroom balcony that he always wanted for this room.
Another incident occurred at a bar in small town Wisconsin over the holiday period. It would appear that the bartender , in keeping with the holiday spirit changed the music video channel of the large screen TV from one that was playing “Classic Rock” to one that was playing traditional Christmas tunes. This didn’t go over well for one patron given that “Black Sabbath” was currently playing. He didn’t appreciate hearing “Oh Holy Night” and made his displeasure known to one and all by systematically destroying the interior of the establishment. This did not go over well and the “holy shit” hit the fan. The Cops were called but this dude managed to escape but not before his licence plate information was recorded. Ultimately the police tracked him down and attempted to arrest him at his home. He had to be tasered. He spent the entire holiday season in cells where traditional holiday music was being piped in.
And the Darwin award goes to:
After watching this I realized that while I may be 67 years old I do have a juvenile sense of humour….yes….too funny!
This has to be one of my all time favourite classic Christmas tunes:
This just in! From a Social Justice Warrior Professor. Is there any other kind?
“That’s actually where the connection lands between white liberalism and white supremacy because it’s by maintaining law and order and by maintaining civility by keeping your front lawn nice and tidy and by putting that ‘all are welcome in our communities’ sign on your front lawn, you are denying the fact that all the while you are with the other hand passing money to a deadly institution that polices with great disparity and causes tragic, tragic harm to the communities that are our neighbors and the communities that we actually should be building forward with.”
Huh??????
So mowing my lawn is racist huh?. Great, I will never cut my grass again. Thanks Professor. By the way, this professor teaches English literature and grammar. This has to be the longest sentence evah!
A SJW Mantra or put another way: University spells Diversity
The student’s words speak for themselves, don’t ya think? Hate! Don’t ya just love being a SJW Professor?
Why would anyone in their right mind go to University these days?
Little known facts:
Abraham Lincoln founded the Republican Party
Every confederate state was Democrat
Get out the Laxative.
Gotta love this headline: “The Pope’s Laxity Catches Up With Him:” when talking about the latest Vatican sex scandal involving one of his closest buds. No story here. Move on.
“You know, the Pope is a pretty regular guy!” one Vatican official was heard to say. “Yeah, maybe but he’s on the run now!”
“Is the Pope really Catholic,” a reporter asked.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk” retorted the effeminate Vatican official. “Does a bear shyte in the woods? Of course he is. In fact not only is the Pope Catholic but he hails from Ontario!”
“Ah that’s two strikes against him.” The reporter thought as he moved away. No story here. Move on.
And the scandals just keep on cumming!
And on another papal front, this political Pope is celebrating the 60th anniversary of the Cuban Revolution!
Damn, a Catholic, who hails from Ontario and is a fan of Communism. That’s three strikes against him. Poor guy.
A Papal mystery of life – if the Pope and other Clergy take a vow of poverty then why are they all against poverty and the poor? Huh? Huh?
Another mystery of life: why is it that when everything else goes grey and slows down on one’s body, one’s eyebrows stay the same colour and grow out like weeds in a summer’s heat?? Huh? Huh?
See! I can tell that when he was young he had really black hair. I wonder how the nose hairs are doin??
Comb-overs are next!
From the Bizarro file comes this:
Man caught licking door bell for over three hours…Damn, nobody was home. The only thing that saved this perv was that he had to go so bad that he relieved himself on the front lawn. Apparently while licking the doorbell he read an article about some SJW professor and his/her rant about racist lawns.
Toronto Police official hails Toronto’s diversity and political correctness policies as a major strength of the force and a model for others to follow. Meanwhile Toronto’s homicide rate is the highest evah and is going through the roof. One police officer was heard in passing while investigating a crime scene:
“Gee my fellow Torontonians of neutral race and natural, neutral gender, can I please have that AK 47? Hmmm? Pretty please?”
New James Bond film’s lead to be a Transgendered:
“My name is Bond, Jane or James Bond. Makes no difference to me!”
Latest from the NYT also known as CNN’s print medium.
Nuff said……I want to get off the planet………………now.
First verse of that classic Eagles tune sung by a soulful master Etta James
https://youtu.be/oqR6xB0Gljw
Fabulous
Another wonderful Super Dave Osborne stunt. R.I.P. Bob Einstein