Thursday, January 15, 2004
I didn't burn down the house
Monday night, Dale, Johanna, and myself shared a very nice belated Christmas dinner. We had rack of lamb (cooked to perfection by my father, this is not an overstatement) and some assorted vegetables (including mashed potatoes, hmmmmm -especially tasty when mixed with the port wine sauce my dad concocted for the lamb). For desert, we had something called an Asian banana split. Johanna had discovered the recipe somewhere (I don't know where), and earlier that day had procured the necessary ingredients and done the prep (toasting the sliced almonds, caramelizing the bananas). Difficulty was, the final stage of the recipe involved flambéing the bananas with a goodly amount of rum. Johanna felt a bit apprehensive about this. Enter me - heat up bananas, toss in rum, tilt pan to light, watch the flames grow to about three feet, and yahooo, nothing else caught on fire.
Saturday, January 10, 2004
A few more things from Alexis:
"The President is chosen for four years, and he may be re-elected, so that the chances of a future administration may inspire him with hopeful undertakings for the public good and give him the means of carrying them into execution."
Californians might have done well to heed this advice instead of voting to limit state legislators to one four year term.
"The influence which the President exercises on public business is no doubt feeble and indirect; but the choice of the President though of small importance to each individual citizen, concerns the citizens collectively; and however trifling an interest may be, it assumes a great degree of importance as soon as it becomes general. In comparison with the kings of Europe, the President possesses but few means of creating partisans; but the places that are at his disposal are sufficiently numerous to interest, directly or indirectly, several thousand electors in his success. Moreover, political parties in the United States are led to rally round an individual in order to acquire a more tangible shape in the eyes of the crowd, and the name of the candidate for the Presidency is put forward as the symbol and personification of their theories. For these reasons parties are strongly interested in winning the election, not so much with a view to the triumph of their principles under the auspices of the President elect as to show by his election that the supporters of those principles now form the majority. For a long while before the appointed time has come, the election becomes the important and, so to speak, the all-engrossing topic of discussion. Factional ardor is redoubled, and all the artificial passions which the imagination can create in a happy and peaceful land are agitated and brought to light. The President, moreover, is absorbed by the cares of self-defense. He no longer governs for the interest of the state, but for that of his re-election; he does homage to the majority, and instead of checking its passions, as his duty commands, he frequently courts its worst caprices. As the election draws near, the activity of intrigue and the agitation of the populace increase; the citizens are divided into hostile camps, each of which assumes the name of its favorite candidate; the whole nation glows with feverish excitement, the election is the daily theme of the press, the subject of private conversation, the end of every thought and every action, the sole interest of the present. It is true that as soon as the choice is determined, this ardor is dispelled, calm returns, and the river, which had nearly broken its banks, sinks to its usual level; but who can refrain from astonishment that such a storm should have arisen?"
Not only does Mr Tocqueville express his thoughts with a well cadenced eloquence, but his remarks are also rather timeless.
"The greatest merit of the American legislators is that they clearly discerned this truth and had the courage to act up to it. They conceived that a certain authority above the body of the people was necessary, which should enjoy a degree of independence in its sphere without being entirely beyond the popular control; an authority which would be forced to comply with the permanent determinations of the majority, but which would be able to resist its caprices and refuse its most dangerous demands. To this end they centered the whole executive power of the nation in a single arm; they granted extensive prerogatives to the President and armed him with the veto to resist the encroachments of the legislature.
But by introducing the principle of re-election they partly destroyed their work; they conferred on the President a great power, but made him little inclined to use it. If ineligible a second time, the President would not be independent of the people, for his responsibility would not cease; but the favor of the people would not be so necessary to him as to induce him to submit in every respect to its desires. If re-eligible (and this is especially true at the present day, when political morality is relaxed and when great men are rare), the President of the United States becomes an easy tool in the hands of the majority. He adopts its likings and its animosities, he anticipates its wishes, he forestalls its complaints, he yields to its idlest cravings, and instead of guiding it, as the legislature intended that he should do, he merely follows its bidding. Thus, in order not to deprive the state of the talents of an individual, those talents have been rendered almost useless, and to retain an expedient for extraordinary perils, the country has been exposed to continual dangers."
"In the United States the majority governs in the name of the people, as is the case in all countries in which the people are supreme. This majority is principally composed of peaceable citizens, who, either by inclination or by interest, sincerely wish the welfare of their country. But they are surrounded by the incessant agitation of parties, who attempt to gain their cooperation and support."
"In the United States democracy perpetually brings new men to the conduct of public affairs, and the administration consequently seldom preserves consistency or order in its measures. But the general principles of the government are more stable and the chief opinions which regulate society are more durable there than in many other countries. When once the Americans have taken up an idea, whether it be well or ill founded, nothing is more difficult than to eradicate it from their minds. The same tenacity of opinion has been observed in England, where for the last century greater freedom of thought and more invincible prejudices have existed than in any other country of Europe. I attribute this to a cause that may at first sight appear to have an opposite tendency: namely, to the liberty of the press. The nations among whom this liberty exists cling to their opinions as much from pride as from conviction. They cherish them because they hold them to be just and because they chose them of their own free will; and they adhere to them, not only because they are true, but because they are their own. Several other reasons conduce to the same end.
It was remarked by a man of genius that "ignorance lies at the two ends of knowledge." Perhaps it would have been more correct to say that strong convictions are found only at the two ends, and that doubt lies in the middle. The human intellect, in truth, may be considered in three distinct states, which frequently succeed one another.
A man believes firmly because he adopts a proposition without inquiry. He doubts as soon as objections present themselves. But he frequently succeeds in satisfying these doubts, and then he begins again to believe. This time he has not a dim and casual glimpse of the truth, but sees it clearly before him and advances by the light it gives.
When the liberty of the press acts upon men who are in the first of these three states, it does not immediately disturb their habit of believing implicitly without investigation, but it changes every day the objects of their unreflecting convictions. The human mind continues to discern but one point at a time upon the whole intellectual horizon, and that point is constantly changing. This is the period of sudden revolutions. Woe to the generations which first abruptly adopt the freedom of the press.
The circle of novel ideas, however, is soon traveled over. Experience comes to undeceive men and plunges them into doubt and general mistrust. We may rest assured that the majority or mankind will always remain in one of these two states, will either believe they know not wherefore, or will not know what to believe. Few are those who can ever attain to that other state of rational and independent conviction which true knowledge can produce out of the midst of doubt.
It has been remarked that in times of great religious fervor men sometimes change their religious opinions; whereas in times of general skepticism everyone clings to his old persuasion. The same thing takes place in politics under the liberty of the press. In countries where all the theories of social science have been contested in their turn, men who have adopted one of them stick to it, not so much because they are sure of its truth as because they are not sure that there is any better to be had. In the present age men are not very ready to die for their opinions, but they are rarely inclined to change them; there are few martyrs as well as few apostates.
Another still more valid reason may be adduced: when no opinions are looked upon as certain, men cling to the mere instincts and material interests of their position, which are naturally more tangible, definite, and permanent than any opinions in the world."
"The majority lives in the perpetual utterance of self-applause, and there are certain truths which the Americans can learn only from strangers or from experience."
"I attribute the small number of distinguished men in political life to the ever increasing despotism of the majority in the United States."
A footnote describing two instances of the despotism of the majority:
"A striking instance of the excesses that may be occasioned
by the despotism of the majority occurred at Baltimore during the
War of 1812. At that time the war was very popular in Baltimore.
A newspaper that had taken the other side excited, by its
opposition, the indignation of the inhabitants. The mob
assembled, broke the printing-presses, and attacked the house of
the editors. The militia was called out, but did not obey the
call; and the only means of saving the wretches who were
threatened by the frenzy of the mob was to throw them into prison
as common malefactors. But even this precaution was ineffectual,
the mob collected again during the night; the magistrates again
made a vain attempt to call out the militia; the prison was
forced, one of the newspaper editors was killed upon the spot,
and the others were left for dead. The guilty parties, when they
were brought to trial, were acquitted by the jury.
I said one day to an inhabitant of Pennsylvania: "Be so good
as to explain to me how it happens that in a state founded by
Quakers, and celebrated for its toleration, free blacks are not
allowed to exercise civil rights. They pay taxes; is it not fair
that they should vote?"
"You insult us," replied my informant, "if you imagine that
our legislators could have committed so gross an act of injustice
and intolerance."
"Then the blacks possess the right of voting in this
country?"
"Without doubt."
"How comes it, then, that at the polling-booth this morning
I did not perceive a single Negro?"
"That is not the fault of the law. The Negroes have an
undisputed right of voting, but they voluntarily abstain from
making their appearance."
"A very pretty piece of modesty on their part!" rejoined I.
"Why, the truth is that they are not disinclined to vote,
but they are afraid of being maltreated; in this country the law
is sometimes unable to maintain its authority without the support
of the majority. But in this case the majority entertains very
strong prejudices against the blacks, and the magistrates are
unable to protect them in the exercise of their legal rights."
"Then the majority claims the right not only of making the
laws, but of breaking the laws it has made?"
Not only are the Anglo-Americans united by these common opinions, but they are separated from all other nations by a feeling of pride. For the last fifty years no pains have been spared to convince the inhabitants of the United States that they are the only religious, enlightened, and free people. They perceive that, for the present, their own democratic institutions prosper, while those of other countries fail; hence they conceive a high opinion of their superiority and are not very remote from believing themselves to be a distinct species of mankind."
Perhaps the strength of this observation has withered a bit with time, but not by a great deal.
That's all from volume I. I realize this is rather lengthy. I hope I have not tired my remaining readers to too great an extent.
"The President is chosen for four years, and he may be re-elected, so that the chances of a future administration may inspire him with hopeful undertakings for the public good and give him the means of carrying them into execution."
Californians might have done well to heed this advice instead of voting to limit state legislators to one four year term.
"The influence which the President exercises on public business is no doubt feeble and indirect; but the choice of the President though of small importance to each individual citizen, concerns the citizens collectively; and however trifling an interest may be, it assumes a great degree of importance as soon as it becomes general. In comparison with the kings of Europe, the President possesses but few means of creating partisans; but the places that are at his disposal are sufficiently numerous to interest, directly or indirectly, several thousand electors in his success. Moreover, political parties in the United States are led to rally round an individual in order to acquire a more tangible shape in the eyes of the crowd, and the name of the candidate for the Presidency is put forward as the symbol and personification of their theories. For these reasons parties are strongly interested in winning the election, not so much with a view to the triumph of their principles under the auspices of the President elect as to show by his election that the supporters of those principles now form the majority. For a long while before the appointed time has come, the election becomes the important and, so to speak, the all-engrossing topic of discussion. Factional ardor is redoubled, and all the artificial passions which the imagination can create in a happy and peaceful land are agitated and brought to light. The President, moreover, is absorbed by the cares of self-defense. He no longer governs for the interest of the state, but for that of his re-election; he does homage to the majority, and instead of checking its passions, as his duty commands, he frequently courts its worst caprices. As the election draws near, the activity of intrigue and the agitation of the populace increase; the citizens are divided into hostile camps, each of which assumes the name of its favorite candidate; the whole nation glows with feverish excitement, the election is the daily theme of the press, the subject of private conversation, the end of every thought and every action, the sole interest of the present. It is true that as soon as the choice is determined, this ardor is dispelled, calm returns, and the river, which had nearly broken its banks, sinks to its usual level; but who can refrain from astonishment that such a storm should have arisen?"
Not only does Mr Tocqueville express his thoughts with a well cadenced eloquence, but his remarks are also rather timeless.
"The greatest merit of the American legislators is that they clearly discerned this truth and had the courage to act up to it. They conceived that a certain authority above the body of the people was necessary, which should enjoy a degree of independence in its sphere without being entirely beyond the popular control; an authority which would be forced to comply with the permanent determinations of the majority, but which would be able to resist its caprices and refuse its most dangerous demands. To this end they centered the whole executive power of the nation in a single arm; they granted extensive prerogatives to the President and armed him with the veto to resist the encroachments of the legislature.
But by introducing the principle of re-election they partly destroyed their work; they conferred on the President a great power, but made him little inclined to use it. If ineligible a second time, the President would not be independent of the people, for his responsibility would not cease; but the favor of the people would not be so necessary to him as to induce him to submit in every respect to its desires. If re-eligible (and this is especially true at the present day, when political morality is relaxed and when great men are rare), the President of the United States becomes an easy tool in the hands of the majority. He adopts its likings and its animosities, he anticipates its wishes, he forestalls its complaints, he yields to its idlest cravings, and instead of guiding it, as the legislature intended that he should do, he merely follows its bidding. Thus, in order not to deprive the state of the talents of an individual, those talents have been rendered almost useless, and to retain an expedient for extraordinary perils, the country has been exposed to continual dangers."
"In the United States the majority governs in the name of the people, as is the case in all countries in which the people are supreme. This majority is principally composed of peaceable citizens, who, either by inclination or by interest, sincerely wish the welfare of their country. But they are surrounded by the incessant agitation of parties, who attempt to gain their cooperation and support."
"In the United States democracy perpetually brings new men to the conduct of public affairs, and the administration consequently seldom preserves consistency or order in its measures. But the general principles of the government are more stable and the chief opinions which regulate society are more durable there than in many other countries. When once the Americans have taken up an idea, whether it be well or ill founded, nothing is more difficult than to eradicate it from their minds. The same tenacity of opinion has been observed in England, where for the last century greater freedom of thought and more invincible prejudices have existed than in any other country of Europe. I attribute this to a cause that may at first sight appear to have an opposite tendency: namely, to the liberty of the press. The nations among whom this liberty exists cling to their opinions as much from pride as from conviction. They cherish them because they hold them to be just and because they chose them of their own free will; and they adhere to them, not only because they are true, but because they are their own. Several other reasons conduce to the same end.
It was remarked by a man of genius that "ignorance lies at the two ends of knowledge." Perhaps it would have been more correct to say that strong convictions are found only at the two ends, and that doubt lies in the middle. The human intellect, in truth, may be considered in three distinct states, which frequently succeed one another.
A man believes firmly because he adopts a proposition without inquiry. He doubts as soon as objections present themselves. But he frequently succeeds in satisfying these doubts, and then he begins again to believe. This time he has not a dim and casual glimpse of the truth, but sees it clearly before him and advances by the light it gives.
When the liberty of the press acts upon men who are in the first of these three states, it does not immediately disturb their habit of believing implicitly without investigation, but it changes every day the objects of their unreflecting convictions. The human mind continues to discern but one point at a time upon the whole intellectual horizon, and that point is constantly changing. This is the period of sudden revolutions. Woe to the generations which first abruptly adopt the freedom of the press.
The circle of novel ideas, however, is soon traveled over. Experience comes to undeceive men and plunges them into doubt and general mistrust. We may rest assured that the majority or mankind will always remain in one of these two states, will either believe they know not wherefore, or will not know what to believe. Few are those who can ever attain to that other state of rational and independent conviction which true knowledge can produce out of the midst of doubt.
It has been remarked that in times of great religious fervor men sometimes change their religious opinions; whereas in times of general skepticism everyone clings to his old persuasion. The same thing takes place in politics under the liberty of the press. In countries where all the theories of social science have been contested in their turn, men who have adopted one of them stick to it, not so much because they are sure of its truth as because they are not sure that there is any better to be had. In the present age men are not very ready to die for their opinions, but they are rarely inclined to change them; there are few martyrs as well as few apostates.
Another still more valid reason may be adduced: when no opinions are looked upon as certain, men cling to the mere instincts and material interests of their position, which are naturally more tangible, definite, and permanent than any opinions in the world."
"The majority lives in the perpetual utterance of self-applause, and there are certain truths which the Americans can learn only from strangers or from experience."
"I attribute the small number of distinguished men in political life to the ever increasing despotism of the majority in the United States."
A footnote describing two instances of the despotism of the majority:
"A striking instance of the excesses that may be occasioned
by the despotism of the majority occurred at Baltimore during the
War of 1812. At that time the war was very popular in Baltimore.
A newspaper that had taken the other side excited, by its
opposition, the indignation of the inhabitants. The mob
assembled, broke the printing-presses, and attacked the house of
the editors. The militia was called out, but did not obey the
call; and the only means of saving the wretches who were
threatened by the frenzy of the mob was to throw them into prison
as common malefactors. But even this precaution was ineffectual,
the mob collected again during the night; the magistrates again
made a vain attempt to call out the militia; the prison was
forced, one of the newspaper editors was killed upon the spot,
and the others were left for dead. The guilty parties, when they
were brought to trial, were acquitted by the jury.
I said one day to an inhabitant of Pennsylvania: "Be so good
as to explain to me how it happens that in a state founded by
Quakers, and celebrated for its toleration, free blacks are not
allowed to exercise civil rights. They pay taxes; is it not fair
that they should vote?"
"You insult us," replied my informant, "if you imagine that
our legislators could have committed so gross an act of injustice
and intolerance."
"Then the blacks possess the right of voting in this
country?"
"Without doubt."
"How comes it, then, that at the polling-booth this morning
I did not perceive a single Negro?"
"That is not the fault of the law. The Negroes have an
undisputed right of voting, but they voluntarily abstain from
making their appearance."
"A very pretty piece of modesty on their part!" rejoined I.
"Why, the truth is that they are not disinclined to vote,
but they are afraid of being maltreated; in this country the law
is sometimes unable to maintain its authority without the support
of the majority. But in this case the majority entertains very
strong prejudices against the blacks, and the magistrates are
unable to protect them in the exercise of their legal rights."
"Then the majority claims the right not only of making the
laws, but of breaking the laws it has made?"
Not only are the Anglo-Americans united by these common opinions, but they are separated from all other nations by a feeling of pride. For the last fifty years no pains have been spared to convince the inhabitants of the United States that they are the only religious, enlightened, and free people. They perceive that, for the present, their own democratic institutions prosper, while those of other countries fail; hence they conceive a high opinion of their superiority and are not very remote from believing themselves to be a distinct species of mankind."
Perhaps the strength of this observation has withered a bit with time, but not by a great deal.
That's all from volume I. I realize this is rather lengthy. I hope I have not tired my remaining readers to too great an extent.
Many years ago a very eloquent frenchman (as so many are) travelled across the Atlantic and ventured into what was then the pre-pubescent United States of America (I'd say that that fair land, or perhaps I should say my fair land, is now somewhere in puberty). After his voyage he published a two volume book, "Democracy in America". His name was Alexis de Tocqueville. While perusing the cybernéant this evening I came across a few websites devoted to him and thought I'd post a few of his pithy remarks.
"I am far from denying that newspapers in democratic countries lead citizens to do very ill-considered things in common; but without newspapers there would be hardly any common action at all. So they mend many more ills than they cause."
"Americans of all ages, all stations of life, and all types of disposition are forever forming associations...In democratic countries knowledge of how to combine is the mother of all other forms of knowledge; on its progress depends that of all the others."
"In towns it is impossible to prevent men from assembling, getting excited together and forming sudden passionate resolves."
Now if we just substitute "America" for "towns", I think that last sentence eloquently conveys an accurate observation.
"I am far from denying that newspapers in democratic countries lead citizens to do very ill-considered things in common; but without newspapers there would be hardly any common action at all. So they mend many more ills than they cause."
"Americans of all ages, all stations of life, and all types of disposition are forever forming associations...In democratic countries knowledge of how to combine is the mother of all other forms of knowledge; on its progress depends that of all the others."
"In towns it is impossible to prevent men from assembling, getting excited together and forming sudden passionate resolves."
Now if we just substitute "America" for "towns", I think that last sentence eloquently conveys an accurate observation.
I was feeling poor and homely tonight so instead of joining my friends for an evening of revelry, I've been sitting at home doing things I usually do when I'm alone. I started by making myself dinner. The only part of that endeavour that merits mention are the green beans. For the southerners among you this will seem a no-brainer, hardly worthy of any mention at all, but for all my friends from the lands of fruits and nuts and that great white expanse that lies to north, here follows a basic outline of how to make some tasty green beans.
You need:
-green beans (rinsed, de-stemmed, and parboiled -- though don't do this too long as you want them to spend some time cooking in the fat)
-bacon, at least two slices, more if you like it or if you're making lots of beans (canadian bacon will do if necessary, but fatty thick sliced smoked hog ass is preferable)
-onions (I prefer finely sliced, but it don't really matter so long as you cut it up) -shallots are a wonderfully west-coast substitution, but are best described as a moderately acceptable alternative (we don't actually want to taste the green beans here, this isn't really about the vegetables, it's about the pork fat--and the onions cooked in the pork fat)
-garlic (two cloves, and if you're feeling finnicky, take out the bitter green insides)
butter (you can stick with just the rendered bacon fat, but I like to think that somehow the combined flavours of bacon fat and butter create some sort of culinary apogee, smoky, salty, porky goodness, combined with creamy smooth delectability).
The final ingredients might cause some quibbling with anyone who thought my preface to this recipe implied I was cooking traditional southern green beans. As far as I'm aware, a traditional recipe also includes vinegar and sugar (and probably a no to the garlic). I don't much cotton to sugar coating my green beans, and though it does belie my southern cooking pretensions, I prefer dry white wine to vinegar (I also added a halved and sliced roma tomato at the last minute when I prepared my beans this evening).
So, the point of that little aside is that you need some acid. Your humble chef recommends dry white wine, dry (white) vermouth, or a touch of bourbon (not much acid there, but when I discovered what a wonderful pair bourbon and bacon are a few years back, it was my culinary revelation of the year. I now combine the two with reckless abandon).
Cooking
-add bacon to large pan (med heat), cook till most of the fat has rendered
-add onion (or shallots), increase heat a bit above medium (as long as nothing is burning, it's not too hot)
-when onions are translucent (or heading to caramelized if you prefer) reduce heat to low and add garlic, if you're not swimming in bacon fat, add some butter at this stage
-cook for a couple minutes at low (if you're using an electric stove, take the pan off the burner for the first minute)
-add some white wine (flame it if you're feeling frisky, if you've never done this before don't try it till I'm there to teach you. Many of my friends can attest to my flambéing brilliance)
-add the green beans, cook till there's no crunch crunch left. This does not mean mushy, there should still be a bite.
-salt and pepper to taste
-if you like it fatty (and you should) a dollop or two of butter for aesthetics and smooth tasty creaminess
As an alternative: Steam or boil green beans. Toss with lemon juice, tamari, and a dash of toasted sesame seed oil (and some chili paste if you're feeling frisky)
The next post will arrive soon.
You need:
-green beans (rinsed, de-stemmed, and parboiled -- though don't do this too long as you want them to spend some time cooking in the fat)
-bacon, at least two slices, more if you like it or if you're making lots of beans (canadian bacon will do if necessary, but fatty thick sliced smoked hog ass is preferable)
-onions (I prefer finely sliced, but it don't really matter so long as you cut it up) -shallots are a wonderfully west-coast substitution, but are best described as a moderately acceptable alternative (we don't actually want to taste the green beans here, this isn't really about the vegetables, it's about the pork fat--and the onions cooked in the pork fat)
-garlic (two cloves, and if you're feeling finnicky, take out the bitter green insides)
butter (you can stick with just the rendered bacon fat, but I like to think that somehow the combined flavours of bacon fat and butter create some sort of culinary apogee, smoky, salty, porky goodness, combined with creamy smooth delectability).
The final ingredients might cause some quibbling with anyone who thought my preface to this recipe implied I was cooking traditional southern green beans. As far as I'm aware, a traditional recipe also includes vinegar and sugar (and probably a no to the garlic). I don't much cotton to sugar coating my green beans, and though it does belie my southern cooking pretensions, I prefer dry white wine to vinegar (I also added a halved and sliced roma tomato at the last minute when I prepared my beans this evening).
So, the point of that little aside is that you need some acid. Your humble chef recommends dry white wine, dry (white) vermouth, or a touch of bourbon (not much acid there, but when I discovered what a wonderful pair bourbon and bacon are a few years back, it was my culinary revelation of the year. I now combine the two with reckless abandon).
Cooking
-add bacon to large pan (med heat), cook till most of the fat has rendered
-add onion (or shallots), increase heat a bit above medium (as long as nothing is burning, it's not too hot)
-when onions are translucent (or heading to caramelized if you prefer) reduce heat to low and add garlic, if you're not swimming in bacon fat, add some butter at this stage
-cook for a couple minutes at low (if you're using an electric stove, take the pan off the burner for the first minute)
-add some white wine (flame it if you're feeling frisky, if you've never done this before don't try it till I'm there to teach you. Many of my friends can attest to my flambéing brilliance)
-add the green beans, cook till there's no crunch crunch left. This does not mean mushy, there should still be a bite.
-salt and pepper to taste
-if you like it fatty (and you should) a dollop or two of butter for aesthetics and smooth tasty creaminess
As an alternative: Steam or boil green beans. Toss with lemon juice, tamari, and a dash of toasted sesame seed oil (and some chili paste if you're feeling frisky)
The next post will arrive soon.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Well, it's sometime in early January and I'm sitting at home, feeling rather sick and wishing I was outside frolicking in the snow with my girlfriend Kitty. Instead, I've been watching horrible TV and slowly sorting through all my music to make mixes for assorted family and friends. My television screen has most recently been graced by Tom Hanks in his unforgettable role as a marooned Fedex executive, Chuck Nolan. I actually have fond memories associated with this movie. Carl and I went to see it on Christmas eve three or four years ago.
In my quest for entertainment I have been sifting through some news sites. We'll save the story that makes me the most irate for last (it happened right here in my hometown).
Apparently we should all be on the lookout for leprosy (source: Globe and Mail). There are currently about five hundred cases in Canada and a couple dozen more pop up annually. There have been outbreaks in Texas and Louisiana. That's why we call it the dirty dirty south.
Mr. Black (Conrad) has finally proved himself the crook (not yet in a court of law) we've always suspected him to be. If you haven't been paying attention, he has been accused of misappropriating company funds.
Now just for a minute, I'm going to step outside of my left-wing reactionary hole and say that one of the negative side effects about the discovery of innumerable instances of egregious acts of white collar crime over the last few years is that it gives reactionary critics and activists credible fodder for their ill-conceived kvetching. I shouldn't limit my kvetching to left-wingers; my real complaint emerges from the adversarial split in so many parts of our society. I think we can blaim the birth of the nation state for the beginnings of this mentality and the mob mentality engedered by professional organized sport for its present day maintenance.
Any one catch the Sugar Bowl yesterday? LSU play a great game against Oklahoma, defeating them 27-14.
Wahoo! My coffee drinking has been vindicated! Apparently (as reported on CTV news this evening), if I drink more than 6 cups per day, I will reduce my risk of developing type 2 diabetes by 50%. Now of course, in my new found joy, I will ignore the negative effects of coffee (kidney stones, heart problems, increased rate of miscarriage) and the easiest way to prevent type 2 diabetes (exercise). Bring on the cappucino.
Snow report: The flakes are bigger. Wahooo!
Getting to the aforementioned source of my rage. About a year ago six VPD officers took 3 men (all with long criminal histories) to Stanley park and kicked the crap out of them. All of the officers plead guilty. Yesterday (Jan 5th) they were sentenced. The harshest (relatively speaking because none of these sentences were harsh) sentence was handed to Constable Gemmell. He received a 60 day conditional sentence which restricts him to his house between the hours of 8pm and 7am and 6 months of probation. Ouuchh, poor Mr. Gemmell has to sleep in his own house.
Constable Gabriel Kojima got a 30 day conditional sentence and six months of probation. He will also be sleeping in his own house at night.
Constables Raymond Gardner and Brandon Steele both received suspended sentences (9 months and 6 months respectively) and 6 months probation.
Constable Christopher Cronmiller received a conditional discharge and six months of probation.
Finally, Constable James Kenney received an absolute discharge. Absolute discharge! Though apparently he never touched any of the men, he did nonetheless standby as fellow police officers dished out some beatings. As an officer of the law he at the very least deserves a criminal record. I should add that Constable Cronmiller also escaped without a record. Despicable.
Speaking after the hearing, the president of the police union said there was no reason the police officers should lose their jobs. It's comments like this that give unions a bad name.
I'd just like to say that all of these officers deserve, at the very least, a criminal record. Any who physically took part in the beatings deserve jail time. Let me briefly say why. Police officers, as officers of the law, are entrusted with a great deal of power. The key word in that sentence is "entrusted". We bestow upon them a great deal of trust. Without this trust, and the proper maintenance of it, they can not serve their function in society.
In my quest for entertainment I have been sifting through some news sites. We'll save the story that makes me the most irate for last (it happened right here in my hometown).
Apparently we should all be on the lookout for leprosy (source: Globe and Mail). There are currently about five hundred cases in Canada and a couple dozen more pop up annually. There have been outbreaks in Texas and Louisiana. That's why we call it the dirty dirty south.
Mr. Black (Conrad) has finally proved himself the crook (not yet in a court of law) we've always suspected him to be. If you haven't been paying attention, he has been accused of misappropriating company funds.
Now just for a minute, I'm going to step outside of my left-wing reactionary hole and say that one of the negative side effects about the discovery of innumerable instances of egregious acts of white collar crime over the last few years is that it gives reactionary critics and activists credible fodder for their ill-conceived kvetching. I shouldn't limit my kvetching to left-wingers; my real complaint emerges from the adversarial split in so many parts of our society. I think we can blaim the birth of the nation state for the beginnings of this mentality and the mob mentality engedered by professional organized sport for its present day maintenance.
Any one catch the Sugar Bowl yesterday? LSU play a great game against Oklahoma, defeating them 27-14.
Wahoo! My coffee drinking has been vindicated! Apparently (as reported on CTV news this evening), if I drink more than 6 cups per day, I will reduce my risk of developing type 2 diabetes by 50%. Now of course, in my new found joy, I will ignore the negative effects of coffee (kidney stones, heart problems, increased rate of miscarriage) and the easiest way to prevent type 2 diabetes (exercise). Bring on the cappucino.
Snow report: The flakes are bigger. Wahooo!
Getting to the aforementioned source of my rage. About a year ago six VPD officers took 3 men (all with long criminal histories) to Stanley park and kicked the crap out of them. All of the officers plead guilty. Yesterday (Jan 5th) they were sentenced. The harshest (relatively speaking because none of these sentences were harsh) sentence was handed to Constable Gemmell. He received a 60 day conditional sentence which restricts him to his house between the hours of 8pm and 7am and 6 months of probation. Ouuchh, poor Mr. Gemmell has to sleep in his own house.
Constable Gabriel Kojima got a 30 day conditional sentence and six months of probation. He will also be sleeping in his own house at night.
Constables Raymond Gardner and Brandon Steele both received suspended sentences (9 months and 6 months respectively) and 6 months probation.
Constable Christopher Cronmiller received a conditional discharge and six months of probation.
Finally, Constable James Kenney received an absolute discharge. Absolute discharge! Though apparently he never touched any of the men, he did nonetheless standby as fellow police officers dished out some beatings. As an officer of the law he at the very least deserves a criminal record. I should add that Constable Cronmiller also escaped without a record. Despicable.
Speaking after the hearing, the president of the police union said there was no reason the police officers should lose their jobs. It's comments like this that give unions a bad name.
I'd just like to say that all of these officers deserve, at the very least, a criminal record. Any who physically took part in the beatings deserve jail time. Let me briefly say why. Police officers, as officers of the law, are entrusted with a great deal of power. The key word in that sentence is "entrusted". We bestow upon them a great deal of trust. Without this trust, and the proper maintenance of it, they can not serve their function in society.
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