Sorry! Again…

The Turd’s latest apology to the Inuits – and none coming to ordinary Canadians – got me to thinking:

I am a Canadian………………….Sorry

Canadian lawyers send an official letter to the Pope asking him for an official apology for the Canadian Residential Schools. Never mind that there are also Anglican, Presbyterian and other denominational schools….oops sorry. That they were also in the United States and other Commonwealth countries and that not all residential schools were bad….oops sorry!

Residential schools? The gift that keeps on giving to Canada’s First Nations, which is an oxymoronic thing to say in itself…sorry. Indigenous peoples were immigrants like the rest of us…sorry. They just got off the boat, or land bridge, a lot earlier than us Franco’s and Anglo’s….oops sorry, can’t say that.

If I was the Pope, and sorry, I’m not, I would tell these lawyers to go to hell…oops sorry. Can’t say that. Hell doesn’t exist anymore according to the Pope. Okay then, go to purgatory. Yup, that should do it..oops…sorry about that.

And the Pope’s response?

See the source image

“I just have two words to say to Canada. Unfortunately  I cannot say in them public!” Sorry! “This is Latin sign language meaning F%$K Off.”

On behalf of all Canadians, I just want to say sorry to:

  • Japanese Canadians;
  • Chinese Canadians;
  • Jewish Canadians…is there such a thing?;
  • Italian Canadians;
  • Greek Canadians;
  • French Canadians;
  • German Canadians;
  • All Canadians from Europe, Middle East, Mongolia, Southeast Asia;
  • American Canadians although I don’t know why they would want to be;
  • Aussie Canadians;
  • New Zealand Canadians
  • Antarctic Adele Penguin Canadians;
  • Skuas and screw yas Canadians;
  • Polar Bear Canadians;
  • Seal Canadians
  • Shit Hawk Canadians;
  • Scandinavian Canadians;
  • African Canadians;
  • Indian Canadians;
  • Oceana Canadians;
  • St Helena Canadians;
  • Elba Canadians;
  • Russia Canadians; and
  • Anyone left out Canadians?

And all other hyphenated and decaffeinated Canadians out there. Why can’t we all just be……….CANADIANS!…..Ooops sorry, identity politics rules the Canadian…oops sorry to PETA….well, not really sorry!

We are Canadians and we’re sorry that we screwed you all. Just lodge a complaint with our Dear Leader Justin Trudeau and he will issue you an apology, with tears to boot (he is an ex drama teacher after all) and, if you are really, really lucky, he’ll give you all a hockey sock full of money.

Oh and sorry to the Montreal Canadians for sucking as a hockey team. And the Leafs.

And the next time you wage a major war in Europe, don’t call us to come and help bail you out………………….Sorry!

I’m sorry!

Song of the day:

Have a great Navy day



Day Three and Four

This is dedicated to Gary, my cousin,s husband from Toronto. He has been fighting cancer for a very long time.

I am a bit out of sync due to heat and poor wifi.

Stayed in Guipy over night sécond day. Beautiful. Owned by a Dutch couple. All of the campers were Dutch too,except moi and my new found friend Jean, a frenchman from France!! Great guy. Pläce had a pool, which was heaven. Sat outside for dinner – hot but with a breeze – heavenly. Unfortunately for me I was sitting beside an arrogant Dutchman who proceed to tell me how much he and much of Europe hate Trump and all Americans – sad. Oh well, if there is one commonality in this world it is this – assholes. He is the second one I have met so far on this trip. More to come I am sure. Hot, hot, hot

Oh yeah, the Dutch owner of the site tried to rip me off. I caught him out though. What a prick – oh how I love that word. Funny that the only real jerks I have come across so far have been Dutch. Sorry Marijke. But then again they are all from the north in Holland, not the south where my dear wife was born and raised

Day Three  – Guipy to Pemery.

Started at 6am. Cool. Most of this trip was beside paved roads. Not good in this heat. Met my Belgian friend, a pilgrim, in St Sauverien, a village at the top of a large hill. Of course! Most of the villages I have come across are at the top of a large hill-of course they are. That was about 7 km out.  Nothing open. Not a single store, cafe, had been open in any of the villages. My neighbour Gord told me that this area of France was exceptional for its cuisine. That may be true but I haven,t been able to find out as every friggin cafe, magazin, HAS BEEN FRIGGIN CLOSED. Maybe in Premery I will find something open. My friend Jean told me this is due to poor economics. Villagers have given up, so have closed shop and moved away. Most Frenchmen from France prefer their holidays abroad. That is sad because this region is heaven on earth – heavenly!

Then it got hot,really really hot. It became a walk of surviving. Not enjoyable at all. No profound thought at all unless of course falling into Niagara Falls was profound. Ah that cool fresh torrent of water cascading over the furnace that encased my very being! So nice. I had to settle jumping into a stream and immersing myself into its coolness. Aw,the small things in life we take for granted. Same with fruit. I had been saving an orange for a very special break. With 7 km to go it was now time for this heavenly treat – every segment was  sweet nector of the Gods. So, so refreshing.

Under this grouling heat, the countryside was parched for moisture. Hills and valleys screaming for rain and none forthcoming for sometime. Longest heatwave on record – of course it is – come to France they said.

Last two km took me 2 hours. Finally made it to Premery. Hard to describe this place as I am too tired. Found a bistro open – hooray – went in and quaffed two Oranginas, a large carafe of ice water and a great fruit salad. I felt nauseous and could hardly eat the salad but I got through it. Found my campsite and collapsed. Site has a swimming pond, so I immersed myself after a short nap – heavenly.

By the way. It hit 42 C in this region. I have to change my tactics. Walking in a furnace is too dangerous, pilgrim or not, I am not ready to meet my creator as yet.

Day 4: This day is dedicated to my nephew Gerry, a Cancersurvivor.

Premer to Guigney. Decided to stay in Premery and recharge. Too hot to walk so autobus to my next destination it is. Not good I know but that is why God invented the internal combustion engine. He felt sorry for pilgrims. He looked down and said – enough is enough – the car was born and he was happy. My first profound thought I think.

ICampsite is good, not great but good. No extras here. Funny but I have been getting along with everyone – even with my shattered French. People everywhere are nice – especially in the country. No ANTIFA, no BLM, no Pride, no politics – just peaceful contemplation. Hey my second profundity. Besides, it is too hot. Even the fish know that. Kids are in the pond having a great time in this heat. Same with me as I really am a kid at heart. A few pics coming. Tomorrow: Nevers – where St Bernadette de Soubirous (suburu) is entombed. More on that later.


Dutch Heat Wave

The Dutch solution to their current heat wave.  I want that.

Kill 2 birds with one slurp.

C’mon in. The beers great.

38 degrees here today……………WHO CARES?

Not me!

The other day I commented that  climate change was resposnible for the spike in suicides. Well following along in the same sort of vein comes this:

“Soaring temperatures are giving men ‘summer penises’: Doctors confirm the heatwave is having a positive effect on the size of male genitals.”

Women, and some men, are all smiles at this latest bit of climate news. “ It all boils down to one,s perspective and hold, grasp, on life.” One woman was heard to remark.

Perhaps, but stayout of the pool. Cold beer and alcohol has a debilitating effect on the members of climate change cultists!




Only You!

Vezelay, here I come.

Can’t wait to get started. But first to the Netherlands to see my wife’s family and friends. Marijke passed last December 8th.

I miss her very much.

Part of this walk is to honour Marijke and a few other people I know dealing with Cancer right now. My hats off to Marijke, Kevin, Gary, Gerry, BC Cancer Clinic and Ruth. Best of luck to all of you. My thoughts and prayers are with you…always.

If you want to help out and be part of the fight against this deadly disease you can make a contribution to the BC Cancer Clinic, or your own local one:

You can donate anything you want in the name of Marijke Morrison or for whomever you know who is fighting this dreadful disease.

I’ll be checking out of here today until my first post 31 July from Vezelay. Hopefully my IPad will work. I may do the odd test post from the Netherlands.

Thanks for supporting this blog especially to my American friend who always seems to be up on this site very early in the morning – at least my time – Pacific. Thanks.

Song of the day:

Such as great band. Here is another tune by Badfinger that makes me think of Marijke:



Hmmm? Great minds think alike.

See the source image

I wonder about that! Memories are made of this:

When I first heard the words “plethora” and “paucity” I thought, “What on earth! Speak clearly man.” It brought my mind back to my elementary school days, grade eight to be exact, where a classmate of mine by the name of Big Maxx loved to show off his literary skills with those flowery descriptive essays that we had to write from time to time and read to the entire class. He didn’t realize just how funny he could be ranting off to the class; so proud of his literary skills with words of art that reflected anything but those big flowery descriptive texts for his words were always in the wrong context or with the wrong meaning. He would write: “I had a flora of jobs when I was young but with not a fauna of ambition or get up and go.” Big Maxx wasn’t too smart back then but he did try very, very hard. And those were the days when one could fail a grade. I think Big Max had to repeat Grade 9 a plethora of times.

The writing of those words, flora and fauna, plethora and paucity, Romulus and Remus got me to thinking and brought me to the following train of thought with respect to words:

Words! What is in a word? My kingdom for a word! A horse it may be but a horse is only a word that by any other name is still a word. Words declare wars, they garner peace. Words can be hurtful, they can be playful. Words describe words as in spiteful words, hurtful words, insightful words. We can have a war of words, crosswords or them’s fightin words. Words can be theatrical: we can have a play on words. Word is the law. It is the word. Words are prophetic. Words can be the gospel truth. So sayeth the word of the Lord. Words inspire, they transpire. Words transcribe: you have my word on that. Failing that, can I have a word with you? But words are not enough. That’s why we have lawyers. Words can also be despotic, or chaotic. A single word can inspire poetry, lyricism.

And when a few words are taken together, we have a phrase. And when a couple of phrases are linked together we have, in a word, a “sentence.” And when a group of sentences are grouped together we have, in another word, a “paragraph.” And to describe or summarize a paragraph we can go right back to the beginning of this word-train of thought – to “paraphrase!”

We can combine words to make quotable quotes: some profound, some sublime, some simplistic, some stupidly clear:

“To be or not to be – that is the question.” That may be but on Jeopardy it is the answer!

“If things are good in moderation then they must be great in excess.” My favourite.

“If something is worth doing, then it is worth overdoing.” My other favourite.

“Baseball is 100% physical. The rest is mental.” (Adapted from Berra).

“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. A woman does what she wants.”

“A consultant is someone who is adept at making the simple… complex.”

“The problem with theory is that it’s just not practical enough!”

“A wise fool is an oxy moron.”

“Those lefties are so darn righteous!”

“Militancy is great…for pacifists”

“She was at a loss for words.” a paradox for sure.

or paradoxically:

“Words cannot describe what she said.” Huh?

Yet words are not enough when communicating. Context and understanding are crucial. Without context confusion arises to the point of ridiculousness. Let me try to illustrate this by something that I learned in school:

Take the word “nit.” The Concise Oxford English Dictionary defines “nit” as a stupid person, a louse. Then add the letter “k” before the “n” and you have “knit.” Yet the word “nit” from the word “knit” is a whole different kettle of fish. And what is that anyway: a kettle of fish?

Now, let’s take the word “wit:” defined as someone with a sharp sense of humour, a player of words perhaps. As in “that man possesses wit. He has a sharp mind.” But then add the letter “t” before the “w” and you have “twit.” Or, combine the word “nit” with the word “wit” and you have a “nitwit.” But “nit” and “twit” together does not sound quite right – “nit-twit?”

Nonetheless, given that a “nit” is already defined as a stupid person, and “wit” is someone who has a sharp mind, then “nitwit” defiles all logic in a descriptive sense except perhaps to define someone who possesses a stupid “wit” – which in itself is oxymoronic. But “dimwit” already has that locked up. Yet what is really frustrating about the undercurrent of this word is that “dimwit” is the opposite of someone who has a sharp “wit.” So, that being the case, let’s call him or her a “blunt-sharp” person!

To make matters worse a “twit” could be someone who has a sharp “wit,” and is still a “nitwit” or a “dimwit.” So why can’t we call him or her a nit-twit? Or a “dim-twit”? The bottom line is that “nitwit” or “dimwit” sounds better. The other bottom line is that English words are just downright confusing without context and a shared understanding of the contextual environment we are communicating in.

I remember my Italian uncle declaring to his wife: Hey Flora, let’s go to the big city and have some fauna – hey?….Groan

(c) Excerpt for my book: I Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven

Song of the day: The Word!

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