The Canadian Finance Minister has finally admitted we’re having a recession. However the PM continues to take the Harold M^cMillian approach to things that ‘if you don’t say you can see it, then it doesn’t exist’ about more serious economic situations being even possible. Meanwhile, one of the oldest steel manufacturers in North America is shutting one of its smelters in Hamilton, Ontario that’s never been cold since before Canada was created (for those of you in the UK, imagine half of Sheffield stopping steel making… oh wait, that’s 1988, isn’t?); General Motors is having its books examined and the report that they only have a few weeks to live, if that, is met with a response from the Board of Directors of “YES! THAT’S WHAT WE’VE BEEN SAYING TO YOU!”; Toyota, of all firms, is going to the Japanese Government cap-in-hand; the telecommunications company which was started by Alexander Graham Bell has basically chucked the entire staff out the door, no matter what their place on the ladder, and is trying to find a way to sell its bits and pieces off to other firms but getting little interest from anywhere in the world; and still we get the silly line about how ‘Canada’s economy is strong and we’ll weather this better than anyone shall’, which is probably true but it’s a matter of degrees, isn’t it, if everyone’s killed and chopped into little bits and we’re only killed and quartered, well we’re still dead aren’t we?

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“C.I.B.C. Towers, Vancouver, BC (#001 — neon edges)” by I am I.A.M., on Flickr

As many say, now that the consumer supposedly has no interest in purchasing anything, no-one wants to put their firm into any product being proposed. Going to the mall up the hill, however, the place is packed! and it’s not all just Asian teen-ages looking to be free of their homes and be seen by others; hardly many at all, actually. The place is wall-to-wall with all sorts of ages and types and classes are elbowing and carrying bags of products they’ve purchased and seem to be seeking more as well. Granted, the windows have sales being declared in them, but it’s not all “BUY FOUR, GET TEN MORE FREE!”, so the notion that no-one is buying anything is a load of bollocks. Have a look in the parking lot of IKEA or some such, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a place to put many more vehicles. So… either these people are buying what they anticipate will be expensive commodities after some impending collapse (‘hey, buddy, I got a sweet line on a “Blirj” what’s never even seen the sun since it was flat-packed!’) or they’re buying things on the never-never and intending to declare personal bankruptcy when put to the wall.

I doubt the extent of the actual economic pain is being actually felt beyond the stock market and financiers, but the problem is that — rightly or wrongly — they are the ones who ensure the currency for everyone’s day-to-day things, like payrolls, supply-lines, and ready-markets for production, continue to operate and function as they have done for some time. Therefore, eventually and inevitably, we all feel the pain that they both wrought and are now experiencing. The simplistic attitude of “think happy and carry on” is almost as correct as it is naïve, however. Yes, it’s right that we don’t have anything to do with it, but the anarchy of finance is also inherently going to effect us adversely. So, “we’re fucked and can’t do nothin’ about it, so carpe diem and pass the gin”, while depressing, is probably about as accurate as one can get.

Tom Joad, we needs you now!

Last week we discussed titles of books which were purported to be those considered by the BBC ‘100 books you ought to read if you were an informed person’. Since then, the source of that list has been questioned as being the BBC, and in fact may be some sort of list come up with by someone who thought to themselves ‘damn it, people ought to read these, you know!’

Whoever came up with the list — and go here for that post — there’s no denying that there’s some damned fine writing there. ‘Damned fine’ meaning: well written; full of imaginative plot points, rammed through with ‘thinky’ material for the reader’s consideration.

Would you think that it’s also a list with a whole bunch of seditious and banned titles? Oh yes; it really is!

25^th anniversary poster

This is “Freedom to Read Week” in the Dominion of Canada [see poster, right], and this 25^th year of the event is just as thought-provoking as one would expect it was when it was begun a quarter of a century ago.

Of the titles on the list of last week, here’s a list of the authors or titles that have come under the wrath of those desirous of limiting the ability of others in choosing what they pour into their brains through their eye-balls, and why (all information taken from the list available on the Freedom to Read site on this page: freedomtoread.ca/censorship_in_canada/challenged_books.asp):

• J.K. Rowling: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
  • 2000 — The Durham (ON) Board of Education received numerous complaints about the immensely popular Harry Potter books being read in classrooms throughout the board’s schools. A school board official said that the complaints came from fundamentalist Christian parents.
  • Cause of objection — As is the case in at least 19 states of the U.S. and other parts of Canada, parents were concerned that Harry Potter is engaged in wizardry, witchcraft, and magic-making, and that these activities are inappropriate for young readers.
  • Update — After listening to the complaints, the administration decided to withdraw the books from classroom use but left them in school libraries where they would be available for book reports. One board member said she had wanted the books to be withdrawn completely from the schools; another member said the board had never been asked to decide the issue, so the books’ withdrawal amounted to censorship. Several months later, after a raucous public meeting, the board rescinded its decision to remove the books. However, in other jurisdictions teachers have been asked not to use the books in the classroom. This is said to have occurred in a school in Corner Brook (NF) and in Rockwood Public School in Pembroke (ON). In 2002, the Niagara (ON) District School Board turned down a parent’s request for the removal of the books from area schools. The parent said the books contained violence and promoted a religion (Wicca) which is against the law in Ontario schools. She said that she had not read the books.
• Harper Lee: To Kill a Mockingbird
  • 2002 — Black parents and teachers in Yarmouth, Digby, and Shelburne (NS) objected to this novel, Barbara Smucker’s Underground to Canada, and John Ball’s In the Heat of the Night. The director of education of the Tri-County school board ordered the withdrawal of the three books pending a ruling by the board, but his order was rescinded at a board meeting and the books were restored. In 1993, a school principal in Hamilton (ON) removed the novel from the core reading list for Grade 10 after a complaint from a parent. In 1991, a black community group called PRUDE (Pride of Race, Unity and Dignity through Education) asked Saint John (NB) School District 20 to withdraw this book and Huckleberry Finn from reading lists.
  • Cause of objection — The novel, which contains the word “nigger,” might cause black students to be mocked because of racial stereotyping.
    Read the rest of this entry »

So, as a method of making up for the confusing daily digests of Twitter Status Updates which perplexed the typewriter-owners amongst the readership, here’s a bit of video content that makes an appeal to everyone taking technology for granted to start realising what we have going for us these days. It originally appeared on the Late Night with Conan O’Brien show on NBC, and now comes to you courtesy of some place called “Red Balcony”. That’s comedian and writer Louis C.K. on the left speaking the truth to the host. Learn more about Mr. C.K. right here.

No doubt I am not the only one who has arrived here from a link on the page of this radio show in the Canadian city of Vancouver. The song was run on the Chri$tma$ Eve show, and you can hear the 17½ minute show in Real Audio by clicking the appropriate link for whatever day you wish to hear.

This tune is what my Father always calls ‘an important record’. This typically means that it provides an opposing view to what is commonly thought of as ‘normal thought’, and does so in a way which not only points out flaws in the status quo, but also provides the listener to sufficient material to think for themselves. To merely suggest that its playing during the holidays ‘is welcomed’ would hardly cover the almost legislated requirement of it being blasted in the house at least twice during Christmas Day, and preferably in a room full of people listening in monk-like devotional attention. As a result of this, I have most of the words committed to memory, and can regale people with much of the recording at the drop of a hat should no stereo be available and I don’t have the song with me. One isn’t proud of this, it’s just something that is true.

The text of your article is being thrown in a layout, along with the images. It shall be printed and put in the box my wife and I pull out of the attic at the start of December, and then thrust into the hands of anyone who says — after having the recording stuffed into their ear-holes — ‘so, what’s the big deal about that, then?’ Education about The Man, and the vigilance with which he must be kept in check, is ‘an important thing’.

Blame my Father. I certainly do.

via A Christmas Yuleblog: Green Chri$tma$ — Fifty Year$: An Appreciation.

After beholding the wonder of the Swiss Re Tower (or whatever you wish to refer to it as), I headed directly North, taking the rather narrow and un-welcoming route of Bury, Goring, and Cutler Streets. In the process, I happened upon The City location of the infamous financial institution Northern Rock, which caused a panic in the streets of England last September when I was in the country (that being my first time in England, this being my first time in London). Northern Rock suddenly found itself running short of cash due to lending more money than it had and had borrowed money in turn from other banks, who had also… does this sound familiar? Yes, spot on, this was the start of the entire matter that was done on a much grander scale — as it usually is no matter what the undertaking — in the American Financial market. Now, just over year later, here I was in ‘the Sceptrèd Isle’ again as the economic world exploded around me; earlier there was a report in a newspaper of the Toronto Stock Exchange having a record-breaking one-day drop in stock prices, causing one to wonder if the entire world monetary system was on the brink of collapse and would one be able to return home after all? The answer to that question was simple: if that happens, max-out the VISA, head to The Pineapple in Kentish Town, and bolt the door; job done!

The matter of the financial world going hay-wire every time one’s visited the Mother Country does make one feel a tad self-conscious, however: soon someone will make the connection and ban me from ever returning to ‘this green and pleasant land’. I don’t think anyone’s blaming me for these things… yet…

Arriving in what is probably “Cutlers Gardens” (it’s around here that I decided to merely head in the general direction of ‘north’ with not much more than impulse to dictate the specifics, so details get a tad fuzzy as a result), wandering into a large assemblage of buildings enclosed within a wrought-iron fence of tall spikes. A pocket-handkerchief-sized lawn was just off to the right inside a traffic-controlling arm, and the path lead on into the heart of the stretch, where an alcove revealed a raised plateau leading to an entrance to one of the buildings. At the front edge of the plateau was a planted area with a sculpture of an arresting design [see image, right]. Upon closer examination, an explanatory sign was at its base, stating:

King Edgar (959 – 75) granted this derelict land to thirteen knights, on condition that they each perform three duels, one on land, one below ground, one on the water. These feats having been achieved, the King gave the knights, or Cnihtengild, certain rights over a piece of land ‘from Aldgate to the place where the bars are now, toward the east, on both sides of the lane, and extended it toward the gate now known as Bishopsgate in the north, to the house of William the Priest… and to the south to the Thames as far as a horseman riding into the river at low tide can throw a lance.’

This sculpture by Denys Mitchell, commissioned by the Standard Life Assurance Company, commemorates the Cnihtengild and was unveiled by the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor, Sir Alexander Graham G.B.E. D.C.L. on 21^st November 1990.

How fascinating! As a good photographic angle or two was being determined, one was hailed by an astonishingly polite and friendly-looking security man whose accent sounded vaguely African in origin, and whose over-all shape seemed vaguely Brobdingnagian in dimension. “Excuse me, Sir”, he said, “are you a tourist?” Initially the whole thing was a bit of a rattle-inducing moment, so this sounded like something ending in “florist”, but obviously wasn’t, so I merely replied “…sorry?” He repeated his query and I replied that he was correct in his assumption. “Well, Sir, photographs are not allowed to be taken here. I’m terribly sorry, Sir.”

This degree of seeming reluctance to actually enforce the regulations of his employer, with which he was specifically tasked, seemed a bit at odds with the fact he could have easily killed me using but his bare hands and not even a modicum of effort. My mind boggled with a number of thoughts, including ‘but why pray tell; this is hardly a headquarters for MI5, surely?’ as well as ‘I do apologise for being so forward as to give you cause to kill me; please forgive me, as I’m suffering the nasty birth defect of being a Canadian and know not the ways of this land…’

Suddenly a taller — and presumably more senior — like-dressed individual appeared from behind a construction screen and called out “It’s alright! I’ve called him in, and it’s fine. Leave the man alone.”

As the question of why one’s presence and/or photo-taking activity would have to be called-in — never mind the thought of ‘to whom would such a call be made?’ — I turned to the polite monstrosity of human flesh and sought confirmation of what seemed to be permission to record the sculpture’s greatness, which was granted by a simple nod and his hearty smile’s return to his face.

Mildly shaken, I took a few photos, then went my way through the quadrangle, which seemed to be under some sort of refurbishment. There also seemed to be an inordinate number of security personnel throughout the area. Why this was so wasn’t apparent, as a Life Assurance company doesn’t exactly rate National Security Protection, surely? Perhaps there was a Minister of Some Important Office or the Chancellor of the Exchequer was to give a speech or address a conference somewhere in the complex about the continuing financial turmoil. Not a clue ever presented itself, but the amount of security at the New Street entrance, through which I made good my egress, included a very plain vehicle from which a pair of serious-looking and heavily-padded gentlemen emerged. How the control on the south-side of the area could be so lax as to permit a common git to wander in entirely unchallenged is an intriguing contrast to the other end of the experience. Perhaps because I was wearing a tie and jacket? And I’m both short-haired and an honky?

Answers on a post-card, please.

Also confusing was why there was a statue of a ram on the top of an arch at the end of New Street. Perhaps it was Aries, which makes it even more confusing. Perhaps it represented the source of the wool or mutton which was originally processed in the area the other side of its opening. Whatever the reason, it seemed incongruous in the extreme.

As I continued north — past the massive Liverpool Street Station and into the Shoreditch District of Hackney — the close proximity of contrasting highs and lows was awe-inspiring. Behold, for instance the two images taken at Fairchild Place and Great Eastern Street below:

This is the same spot, and the two face each other. Stunningly wonderful, as all matters and undertakings have a place in the city’s whole. Fabulous!

I meandered further along Great Eastern, noting the continuing contrast of old and new happily co-existing, and then happened upon a sign that drew one’s mind to thoughts of Dickensian literature supposedly being honoured: Expectations. “I wonder”, one thought, “if they’re being modest and leaving off the ‘Great’ so as to not to raise people’s hopes unduly?” Passing the entrance’s alcove, a poster revealed itself, displaying an image of an entirely opposite nature to anything ever even hinted at in a book with Dickens’s name upon it’s frontispiece. Expectations, you see, is a retail company who specialise in leather, rubber, latex, and fetish gear, marketing principally to the Homosexual market. Which I’ve nothing against at all, but it wasn’t what one had in mind when seeing the sign, really.

So much for Victoriana…

Eventually I returned to the hotel, realised I hungered, then went out seeking food. Sadly, owing to lack of enthusiasm and imagination, dinner was located at the corner of York Way and Pentonville Road: M^cDonald’s. I know, I know… there I am in one of the very first World Cities and I head for something which at home I would avoid like the very plague which destroyed in this area only because of the city burning to the ground. Yet, fatigue of both the mental and physical sort was stronger than one’s resistance, and so the ubiquitous American Common Culture was knelt to.

Besides, when the day’s weather was once pleasant but has disintegrated to the sort presented below, the only other possibility would have been a chip van, but that sort of nonsense is looked down upon within Greater London, probably.

And so, to bed. Bah!