I Identify As An “Equit”

Canadians are such wooses:

Heard in passing in Ottawa: “They really believe in our national jobs plan, or as I like to call it “Just Trans-ition” for heaven’s sake.  The LGBTQ plus and minus like us, they really really like us and believe in everything we do to screw you. By the way Wilky, you have one week to get your hand off of my ass.”

Trudeau’s latest job action plan:

A Liberal sustainable jobs bill is being criticized for invoking “identity politics” by emphasizing jobs for members of “equity-seeking groups.”

Tabled by Minister of Natural Resources Jonathan Wilkinson (shown above), Bill C-50 would support the federal government’s efforts to increase job growth in the green energy sector

However, the bill appears to prioritize certain groups over others.

“A sustainable jobs approach should be inclusive and address barriers to employment with an emphasis on encouraging the creation of employment opportunities for groups underrepresented in the labour market, including women, persons with disabilities, Indigenous peoples, Black and other racialized individuals, 2SLGBTQI+ and other equity-seeking groups,” the bill says.

In other words straight, anglo, whitey need not apply.

Canada is probably the most discriminatory nation on the planet.

Equity is at the root of all of our problems. Why can’t everyone be equal, and not equit (sic), under the law of the land.

By the way, if you were born here in Canada then by the very definition of Indigenous, other than the Canadian version of a dictionary, you are an indigenous person.

From here on in I now identify as an equit.

This song was well ahead of its time.

Dedicated to Trudeau’s vision of Canada.

Check out my books at the links at the top of the page.

Camino and counting.

SJ Out.

Home Is Where The Heart Is…

An Excerpt from my book: “I Thought I’d Died And Gone To Heaven.”

Cmon in, the beer is fine.

“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 II felt while 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 just pop
into my head for no apparent reason. It was as if this thought 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. 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 loved souls roaming about this station,
waving goodbye to their friends, their families, and their loved
ones for the very last time, for eternity. These willowy images
dissipated slowly like some 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 elementary
school principal, morphed into bigger hills which transformed
into very large hills with deep, deep valleys. Valleys
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 countertop
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 provided 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! We would arrive at our west coast destination in the
morning? Try to sleep, I thought.

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 by 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 nondescript
names for mountains that have the potential of wreaking natural
havoc, cascading death and destruction on an unsuspecting, unassuming
public. These mountainous, frighteningly natural mega-
liths formed a formidable barrier to the north and east of the
city’s metropolis but then were offset by the calm waters of the
Pacific Ocean bordering its northwest, west, and southwestern
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 canvas 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 hippie’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-ahalf-
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 a 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 and taking
a piss 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 greatest 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 the speaker’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 concrete rain forest. After a
few days of this I wondered how anyone in their right mind
could live there. The dampness of the place was bone-chilling
and mould-worthy. But then again I guess home is where the
heart is.”

Camino Frances: 60 days to go.

With all the LGBT craziness going on these days, I thought this song would be appropriate:

Way ahead of its time…I guess.

Read more of this existential journey through life in my book: “I Thought I’d Died And Gone To Heaven.” Click on the link at the top of the page. It’s available through Amazon.



A Peaceful And An Easy Feeling

An excerpt from my book, “Red Jewel.” Read more from the links above.

“The moon? Oh, the moon. By now it was a large bright orb that appeared on our eastern horizon just after sunset, rising. How bright it was and a welcome sight. It will be our companion until the early hours tomorrow. You could read a book by it and its pale light gave the color of the sea around us a silk-like, midnight blue colored texture. And under the moonlight the boat’s phosphorescence came to life, glimmering and sparkling bits of plankton that transformed itself magically into sheets of translucent but shimmering diamonds or star-dust running down the hull from the bow to the stern. Like a sorcerer’s mix this phosphorescence transformed the boat’s bow wave into a magical mix that was exquisite and breathtaking to look at. It was God’s manifestation of His physical presence in this world. A reminder. Our stern wake took on a paranormal ghostly appearance as it snaked its way astern then dissipated into the nothingness and magnitude of the dark blue seas behind us. It was as if God was telling us to take note, as his presence is revealed to us by the mysterious and miraculous sea world around us.

With the moonlight upon us the night was no longer an ominous threat. Then, as the night progressed, and the moon rose higher and higher, it carried a golden ring that made its radiance brighter in intensity. It was so bright and clear that I thought I could make out the American Flag that was planted on the moon by astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin back in 1969. Or is that the man in the moon I am seeing: an expression that was clearly defined as he or her smiled down upon us. And at sunrise the sky revealed a rising sun in the east and a translucent, pale looking moon to the west. It was magical. It was transcendental as it was very spiritual. Looking out into the infinity of the universe and of its perfection and complexity I know with certainty that there is a God.

It was during these times, in the middle of the night, that I found myself miles and miles ahead of myself or mentally distant from my current reality. This is what occurs to you at sea in the middle of the night with only your thoughts for company. I stare at the moon and study every nuance of its surface consciously while unconsciously my mind drifts away into the past where I am able to remember minute and insignificant details of my life with renewed clarity and understanding and peace. No longer am I afraid of what or how life may present itself to me but looked forward to all that life has to offer. For now, in this beautiful setting of God’s given and most powerful elements of sea, wind and sky; and the stars and planets that form all of the constellations, I can recognize a true powerful and living God and thank him with all of my heart for all of his blessings that he has bestowed upon me. I look to my future with assuredness, anticipation and confidence. It is in this moment of time and space, and clairvoyance, on this boat in the middle of the central Pacific Ocean, that I am filled with elation and happiness. It is an unbelievable feeling of wellness and joy and one that I have rarely experienced in my lifetime.

Then or now.

And without a moon? A gazillion pricks of light appeared. You sit there in your element as if you were on a plain of fluid bobbing around and trapped inside of an inverted bowl. Above you were millions and millions of stars forming a canopy of infinity that is only limited by the relatively minuscule and human visual boundaries from the eastern horizon to the west, and from the northern limitations to the south. It was an eerie sight, and feeling, attempting to visualize infinity: The Alpha and the Omega. A mystery of life itself. You couldn’t even attempt to measure it or define it. And from within the bowl, the stars appeared like some celestial audience that was watching our every move and trek across their world and their universe.”

And that is why I firmly believe there is a God. I see his presence all around me, in all of our visual landscapes. That…that reality brings me a peace. A peace in a world that is firmly out of control. A world in which one’s spiritual beliefs and values can get one persecuted…or in our current vernacular…cancelled.

A beautiful song:


And another song that puts a smile on my face.


Have a great day.

No worries for God is in control…of everything.

Check out my books through the links above. They are available through Amazon.