True patriot lust.

Thanks to the lovely Ella, ever on the pulse of the popular zeitgeist, I found the following story in my e-mail inbox on Saturday:

Canadians "liberal and hedonistic" but can change, US right-winger says

Sweet! I didn't drink four steins of German weissbier and then pee in my hostel floor's communal shower back in '02. I was exploring the core tenets of cultural marxism.

While I only took two philosophy classes in university, and one Russian history class, I'm pretty sure same-sex marriage was not one of the fundamental concerns of Das Kapital. But hey, I could be wrong. Marx and Engels might have embraced the spirit of comradeship more strongly than I thought. Besides, unlike Weyrich I don't work for a prominent right-wing think tank, so I'll just go back to my slightly bemused drooling.

Incidentally, that photo of Harper looks like it was taken from one of those 70s-era slide presentations we had to watch in grade 4. You just know that off to the left the map reads "U.S.S.R." and "British Somaliland."

Very, umm, interesting.

One of the neatest things about Flickr is that it uses an algorithm of some sort to determine which of your photos have the highest level of "interestingness." As of 11:30 this morning, the above photo of this railroad signal tower was deemed to be the most interesting of all my submissions.

I admit, of course, that whether "interesting" is a good or bad thing lies ultimately in the eye of the beholder. Gaudi architecture is interesting, yes, but so was that guy in my fourth-year Old English seminar who had chest hair up to his eyebrows and wrote internet pornography to pay his bills.

I also should add that I found something magical on the internet that I was going to post today, but as I hate having more than two text-based posts in a row it's been put on ice until Monday, most likely.

One thing I want to say.

There's really no good reason why Stars aren't fucking huge, or at least as huge as Arcade Fire. Especially when they record such an otherworldly ecstatic song as "Your Ex-Lover is Dead" and, one year later, complement it with this stunningly perfect video.

George Vale directed it - along with the Feist video for "One Evening" (where she's dancing with Rick Terfry, aka Buck 65) and, somewhat surprisingly, Our Lady Peace's "Superman's Dead."

A day in the life of a union negotiation notetaker.

Sit, sit, sit, scribble, sit, sit, eat take-out Indian food, sit, scribble, sit, sit, bathroom, sit, type up scribbles, sit, sit, scribble, sit, borrow internet cable, blog, consider hanging one's self with said cable in Labour Board bathroom, sit, sit, eat Timbits, sit.

Ulysses, it's not.

Go vote!

Or puppy goes boom. Seriously. 60% turnout or there will be terrier giblets from here to Wawa.*

*I kid, of course. When you take into account the jet stream, I doubt the giblets will make it farther than Barrie.

This is not about politics.

This post is not about politics.

I like to think that I provide a collegial, welcoming environment here, one where my vast readership (we'll reach double digits any day now!) can swing from the monkey bars of democracy, zoom down the slides of free speech, without any schoolyard bullies giving them wedgies of partisanship. I also like playgrounds, evidently.

Thus, this post is not about politics. It is about common sense.

I tend to hang with NDP voters. Perhaps it's their liberal social values, perhaps it's their sexy pheromones, who knows. It's just the way it is. I also know that, for many of us, strategic voting is like the fruit in the garden of Eden - tempting, juicy, and usually Liberal red. That being said, I was particularly concerned to see Paul Martin on the National today, in Saskatoon of all places, appealing for NDP voters there to switch allegiances to the Grits.

In two out of four Saskatoon ridings, a vote for the Liberals in no way ensures a Conservative will be elected.

The most obvious example is Saskatoon-Rosetown-Biggar. In 2004, the Conservative candidate Carol Skelton finished with 11,875 votes. The NDP Candidate Dennis Gruending finished second with 9,597. Myron Luczka, the Liberal, finished a distant third with 4,171 votes. Clearly, an NDP supporter who "strategically" votes Liberal in this riding on January 23 would actually be improving the Conservative candidate's chances of winning.

The less obvious example is Saskatoon-Humboldt, which comprises most of Saskatoon's downtown core. 2004 was a tight four way race. Conservative Brad Trost* won with 9,444 votes. NDP Nettie Wiebe (now running, coincidentally, in Saskatoon-Rosetown-Biggar) finished second with 9,027 votes. Liberal Patrick Wolfe finished third with 9,009 votes. Independent candidate Jim Pankiw finished fourth with 7,076 votes.

Yes, the Liberal candidate nearly won Saskatoon-Humboldt in 2004. However, this riding is another in which an NDP vote can also have an impact on who is sent to Ottawa. With the numbers so tight, it cannot be conclusively proven that switching one's vote to the Liberals would be a good strategy for ensuring a Conservative does not get elected. In fact, if there were 418 NDP supporters who strategically voted Liberal in this riding in 2004, and they had instead chosen not to do so, this would have been an NDP seat.

A final point, one I'm sure most people know but because I like the sound of my fingers dancing along my keyboard I'll reiterate: if (a big "if," in meaning if not in font size) the goal of your vote is to keep the Conservatives from forming government, it shouldn't matter if the most competitive party in the riding is Liberal, NDP, Green, or the I'm-Going-To-Take-A-Big-Stinking-Poo-on-the-House-of-Commons-Floor party. In fact, that last one would be great for photojournalists everywhere.

Ultimately, whether you vote strategically to keep a certain party out of office is none of my beeswax. Nor is whether you prefer Stephen Harper's little boy haircut, the traffic pylon chic that sums up Jack Layton's choice in neckties, or the hypnotic undulation of Paul Martin's droopy jowls.

I just want to make sure Saskatonians of the NDP persuasion know the math from '04 (all data, by the way, comes courtesy of Elections Canada's website). Word.

*If Brad Trost is reading this blog, I have a message to pass along: Yo! Brad! My brother's moved into your old apartment, and he's still getting your mail. Once this whole election shizzit is over, get on this puppy. Thanks.

Christmas wish.

I meant to post this photo two weeks ago, but I forgot. I hope this Haligonian got what he or she wanted - especially the quaint bungalow. Is that a duck pond?

An open letter to the London Transit Comission.

Dear Sir/Madam,

On the afternoon of January 13, 2006, I was planning to take the 13 Wellington to the University of Western Ontario to rendez-vous with a few friends for coffee and a late lunch. I had deposited one of your new orange tickets into the bus's automated dispenser, and was proceeding towards my seat when - to my great surprise - the bus driver called me back.

"Your ticket is void," he said.

"Void? But I just bought these yesterday."

The driver guided me towards the opposite side of the dispenser where my bus ticket was hanging, suspended backwards in mid-drop, with the words "This side void" displayed proudly.

"Do you have any other tickets?" he asked.

I pulled out my remaining two tickets, dutifully. With the patience that one might display towards a child with Down's Syndrome he carefully explained, with short words and clear enunciation, that I had incorrectly inserted the ticket upside-down into the dispenser doohickey, and that because of this grievous geometric error my ticket was now void. I ripped off a second ticket, placed it carefully on the doohickey valid side up, and took my seat.

The reason I write to you today is simple: I would like my voided ticket returned to me.

Philosophically speaking, I do not believe this is an unfair request. If I were to have accidentally left a $1,000 bill as a tip in a restaurant, when I in fact meant to leave a $10 bill, I'm sure there would be no problem in getting my bill returned to me. The fact that the location was a city bus instead of a restaurant, the item in question was a bus ticket instead of a bill, and the recipient was a snooty and condescending bus driver instead of a restaurant employee are all incidental and should have no philosophical bearing on this matter.

Thus, I await the return of my voided bus ticket, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. All it would take is a white envelope, sent to the above address, with a single bus ticket included therein. Oh, and as I would be greatly distressed to receive an undeserved valid bus ticket, please ensure the ticket is placed in the envelope upside-down.

Sincerely,
T.

Last night in Saskatoon: point-by-point.

I have been here since December 23rd. Tomorrow I board a plane to Toronto, followed by a bus to London to visit the lovely Ella.

Positives:

Kristen, Christine, Rob and Erin, Dean, Kelly, Alynn and Alex, Silas, Shayla, Carmody, Alana, Vince, James, Lindsay, Heather, Anne, hopefully Nicholas in the next few hours, and anyone else I saw. You're all intelligent and fucking beautiful people.

My parents, who discovered booze this Christmas, and my brother, even though his dirty dishes stop inches short of making it to the dishwasher.

Seeing Syriana at the Roxy, listening to You Say Party! We Say Die!, and rediscovering my dormant anarchist roots.

The Paddockwood microbrewery.

Hoarfrost. In all colours.

CFCR 90.5 FM.

Those damn dogs not falling through the railroad tracks.

Space to breathe.

Disappointments:

Oh, Kathryn. I delayed my trip back to Ontario for you. I still hope you love this city, even though I couldn't show you its charms.

No movies at the Broadway.

Maurice Vellacott and his one-agenda campaign (God shall smite the sodomites, yea and verily!) seems poised to take Saskatoon-Wanuskewin. Again.

Four days of fog, and ten days of overcast skies - a cruel joke.

Still no recycling bins in the downtown.

That the end has arrived for the 90-year old Victoria Bridge.

The last grain elevator on the prairies.

Altoona? Preeceville? Cut Knife? Actually, this is Kinsmen Park in Saskatoon. And the "elevator" in question is used more as a backdrop for graffiti and tagging than for any sort of agricultural pursuit.

With the lack of snow this winter in Saskatchewan (or, at least, so I've heard) you can see the railroad tracks that still ferry around pre-teens and nostalgia-seeking twentysomethings in the summer peeking through.

I think that next time I need to get myself really excited about something, I'm going to pump my fist and shout "Jynker! Zeke! Sirius! Serge!" And then maybe bite the head off a live gopher.