Thursday, March 13, 2025

Dear Donald ...

 

Dear Donald,


From the beaches of Normandy to the mountains of the Korean peninsula, from the fields of Flanders to the streets of Kandahar, we have fought and died alongside you during your darkest hours. We were always there, standing with you.

During the Iran hostage crisis, when a group of Iranian students stormed the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and held 52 Americans hostage, six American diplomats escaped and sought refuge at the Canadian embassy, leading to a joint CIA-Canadian operation known as the Canadian Caper to smuggle them out of Iran using Canadian passports and a film crew cover story. 

During the summer of 2005, when Hurricane Katrina ravaged your great city of New Orleans, or mere weeks ago when we sent water bombers to tackle the wildfires in California, we were there for you.

During the day, the world stood still, September 11, 2001, when we provided refuge to stranded passengers and planes. We were always there, standing with you, grieving with you.

Together, we have built the most successful economic, military and security partnership the world has ever seen. A relationship that has been the envy of the world.

As President John F. Kennedy said many years ago, Geography has made us neighbours. History has made us friends; economics has made us partners and necessity has made us allies.

Donald, if you want to usher in a new golden age for the United States, the better path is to partner with Canada, not to punish us.

Yours truly,


Neil

P.S. These are not my words – these are the last words to you (in summary) from my Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau.

P.P.S. These are my words: I love your Kentucky Bourbon, but I’ll not drink another dram of it until you have decided that CANADA is your friend, not your enemy.

 

Tuesday, February 25, 2025

FAMILIAR STRANGERS: THE STRANGE CASE OF DONALD TRUMP AND JUSTIN TRUDEAU

 

FAMILIAR STRANGERS AT THE SKI RESORT

Most of us notice the same people who regularly ski at the same mountain, wait at the same bus stop, regularly shop in the same marketplace, or regularly work out in the same gym as us. Most of us recognize other people in our routines that we frequently notice on a regular basis but with whom we do not interact. Psychologist Stanley Milgram, in 1970, coined such persons as “familiar strangers.”   

During my daily routines, I am very cognizant of many familiar strangers. In the mornings in my building I share the same passenger elevator with familiar strangers. During my regular afternoon gym time, I share the same exercise pumping iron space with three or four familiar strangers. And in the evenings when I go for a London Fog at the Tim Hortons just down the street from where I live, there are always a few familiar strangers pounding down their Timmy grounds. All these familiar strangers I’ve mentioned, though closer than complete strangers, do not yet rise to the level of being an acquaintance.

Reflecting, familiar strangers have always been part of my occupied public spaces. In grade school, high school, and university, there were other students in class who I recognized, but with whom I never conversed. Specifically, I can recall Sharon and David and Gale, with whom I went all through grade school and high school, and yet, ashamedly, do not recall ever chatting with any of them.

When I was a pipeline grunt for several years working the lines in Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, British Columbia, and in the North West Territories, there were crew mates who I recognized but never spoke with. Sometimes we even stayed in the same isolated work camps, with nary a word between us.

When I was a high school English teacher, professionally I was close to the other English teachers, but rarely spoke to teachers from any of the other departments, save for the Physical Education Department -- I was a long-distance runner and swimmer and so shared the same locker rooms. When I was on faculty at the University of Regina, I would bump into a few of the other Psychology profs, but rarely spoke to any of them. (I think this was because I was a sessional instructor, and not positioned high on academic strata compared to that of a tenured professor.)

When my kids were young and taking them to soccer and swimming and wherever, lots of like-minded parents carting their kids to the same spaces became familiar strangers. On the pitch or in the pool, there were parents, including moi, clapping and chatting, but never any real conversations beyond the immediate event.

Familiar strangers. They are everywhere. They are at Open Mic Night at my favorite downtown pub, The Cure. Familiar strangers are some of my passer-by consumers when I am out and about guitar busking. Having a photographic memory for people and events, I know that for me, having these familiar strangers alongside me does make life, not-so-strangely, comforting.

Oftentimes familiar strangers do happen to connect with one another. When the intimacy becomes more than just a nod-and-hello, when the phatic quite-the-weather-we’re-having chat becomes the more inquisitive what-do-you-do-for-a-living chat, the needle begins to move from stranger toward friend on the stranger-to-lover continuum.

The American band, the Hollies, sang about this very phenomenon:

Every mornin’ I would see her waiting at the stop

Sometimes she’d shopped and show me what she bought …

That’s the way the whole thing started

Silly but it’s true

Thinkin’ of a sweet romance

Beginning in a queue” (Bus Stop, 1966).

 

There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t met yet (Irish poet, William Butler Yeats).

Yes, it can happen. Perfect strangers can become familiar strangers, familiar strangers can become friends, and friends can become lovers. And it could happen, too, that a familiar stranger, who happens to be a picayune president, who has a legion-like following of toady disciples, and who has decided to reduce friendship to a transactional relationship, could potentially cause an international trade warfare of sorts.

Now’s the time for true confessions -- the real purpose of this blog post. This blog entry I have written as a respond to the slurs and scatology coming from the mouth of a boorish president who is known for his egregious behaviors.

Factoid: My grandmother was an American. She was Kentucky born and raised and she, along with her family, crossed the Missouri River from Kansas City, Kansas, to Kansas City, Missouri in a covered wagon. That was then, this is now. At present, I have two uncles residing in California, and their children and grandchildren are all Americans, and just like my grandmother, born and raised in the good ol’ USA. Even with such American family connections, nowadays nobody in my Canadian family will travel back to America, at least not until Trump has left office.

This is too bad, too sad, considering that we have been regular vacationers to south of the border for years! Here are just a few of my cherished spots in America:

SKI MAP, ALTA, UTAH

RIALTO BEACH, WASHINGTON

HUNTINGTON BEACH, CALIFORNIA

SAN DIEGO BEACH, CALIFORNIA

Relations between the USA and Canada are getting grim. Canadians are now boycotting American booze (my Kentucky bourbon has been pulled off our Canadian shelves), Canadian snowbirds are canceling plans for their next-winter-vacay in the sunny climes of Florida and Arizona. All my group-think friends and neighbors are not buying anything stamped Made in America. USA and Canada. Very familiar strangers, and now we are even booing the Star-Spangled Banner at sports events, especially hockey as of late,

CANADA- USA FINAL 4-NATION HOCKEY TOURNAMENT

I shall close this strange case of Donald Trump and Justin Trudeau with a bit of agitprop.

Let me be perfectly clear” (as I channel formerly disgraced president, Richard Nixon, who now looks not-that-bad when compared to Donald Trump):

WE ARE NOT BOOING YOUR PLAYERS – WE ARE BOOING YOUR PRESIDENT! 



 

 

 

 

   

 

Thursday, January 30, 2025

IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING, ANY ROAD WILL TAKE YOU THERE


If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.” I love this oft-cited but not-quite accurate quotation of Lewis Carroll in Alice in Wonderland! I love it because I believe that none of us really know where we are going, and none of us really know where we came from.

On the grandest of scales, we are continuously questioning the origin and fate of our universe, where we are from and where we are going. This has been a continuous search, both scientifically and philosophically.  

Factoid: For such answers, there are several theories, of which I shall enhance by shamelessly promoting my latest book, of which the adverts by happenchance perfectly fit my talking points!

WILL MY BOOK SALES EXPLODE INTO OTHER GALAXIES?

Regarding the origin of the universe, the mainly accepted theory by most in the science community, is the Big Bang Theory. This theory purports that 13.8 billion years ago the universe was simply one hot and dense point that exploded, creating space, time, matter, energy, and everything else we know today.

The end of our universe is explained in a couple of scientific theories. The Big Rip Theory suggests, that as our universe is ever expanding, as the galaxies become farther and farther apart, eventually the gravitational forces that bind everything (galaxies, stars, planet, atoms) will succumb to the overpowering influence of dark energy, disappearing forever into time.

The Big Freeze Theory, similar to the Big Rip Theory, too, suggests that as our universe is ever expanding, as the galaxies and stars and planets and atoms drift apart, everything growing colder and becoming more barren, eventually disappearing into on cold and dark void.

Both these theories predict rather bleak endings, and the notion that no matter what space/s we humans are inhabiting, there will be no escape some billion years hence. Hmmm. Maybe humans are not the center of the universe, but enough of this.

Let us move onto our human consciousnesses.

The One Consciousness Theory suggests that our human reality is a projection of our consciousness, and that our 3D world and everything in it, including ourselves, is but a reflection or emanation of our minds.

Theoretical physicist, Albert Einstein, had the theory that every human being is a part of the whole universe, but our part being limited in time and space. Being rather narcissistic, we humans tend to experience ourselves as being separated from all this, suffering a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. Theoretical physicist and cosmologist, Stephen Hawking, proposed that our human brains are essentially computers, and that our consciousnesses are quite like a computer program.

Philosopher David Chalmers has a theory of consciousness that everything is the result of basic properties and laws, and therefore everything is compatible with existing theories of physical science. If this is true, then there is nothing transcendent about consciousness – it is just another natural phenomenon. Neuroscientist, Anil Seth, has a theory of consciousness that all our perceptions are controlled hallucinations, which are generated by our predictive brains – channeling Plato? One of my favorite psychologists, Carl Jung, believed in a collective unconscious, where all the structures of the unconscious mind were shared amongst all of humanity.

Of course, as the scientific search to understand the origin of the universe without continues, so does the search continue to find ourselves within, to find our fate, and along the way, find meaning in our individual lives. In so doing, a reckoning of our human consciousness, too, has a myriad of theories.

One piece of Quantum Theory insists that humans can be immortal because our consciousness never dies. Instead, whenever we die in one universe, our consciousness gets transferred to a parallel universe, one where we are still alive! This is just another Theory of Immortality, dictating that our consciousness is transcendent, and accordingly then, we lead a never-ending existence, regardless of whether our body withers or dies.

So, our consciousness is transcendent? Hmmm. Entire religions are betting their offertory on it, having been constructed around religious theories of the afterlife.

WILL I STILL BE PROMOTING MY BOOK IN THE AFTERLIFE?


Christianity and Islam and Buddhism all promise special places to go after death. In Christianity after death believers go to heaven where they reside with God as their neighbor, and where they are reunited with their earthly bodies, and their earthly loved ones (at least with those who made it heaven). In Islam after death, the soul goes to the unseen realm of Barzakh until the Day of Judgement. In Buddhism, death is an opportunity for liberation, where the consciousness leaves the dead body, but continues and is reborn into another body.

Yes. Our religions do promise us eternity. All cockamamy stories? Maybe. Maybe not.

Whatever the case, I am especially interested in that of Buddhism, where the idea of reincarnation seems quite in harmony to my offerings of PAST LIFE REGRESSION to clients in my HYPNOTHERAPY private practice.

Reincarnation is to be reborn into a new body or vessel, still containing some essence of the previous life experiences and identity. Past Life Regression, a coddewonple so to speak, is more or less traveling in a purposeful manner to a rather vague destination. During a session of a Past Life Regression, my clients believe that their consciousness travels back to a past life, essentially accessing and experiencing memories from their present incarnation, that very incarnation which is in hypnotic trance in my office. In all cases, my clients, in their hypnotic trances, believe that their consciousness is actively engaged during these Past Life Regression sessions, rather than simply observing a detached memory thereof. Compared to that past lifetime in which they lived and died, their session time in my office is very fugacious.

ALL OF THIS, I find fascinating!

Yes. We don’t know where we’re going and we don’t know where we’re from, but one thing is for certain:

“IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING, 

YOU MIGHT WIND UP SOMEPLACE ELSE!”

(Yogi Berra).

WHERE I AM DESTINED TO BE -- BLACK BEACH!



Sunday, January 5, 2025

2025: ANOTHER YEAR OF REGRET AND RESOLVE

 


It is time for my 2025 resolutions, resulting mainly from my regrets for 2024. Yes. Regrets, I’ve had a few but then again, too few to mention. Yes. Regrets, referring to Ol’ Blue Eyes, I’ve had a few, of which I will mention later.

As I am typing this, I am looking out my window in the surfin’ village of Sayulita, Mexico. Just a five-minute walk from my Airbnb, and I will be on a beach amongst at least 100 surfers. SURFIN’ USA (THE BEACHBOYS)


and
SURFSIDE 6 (TROY DONAHUE)


are ever on my mind when I’m down on Sayulita beach.

Staying here for a few days during Christmastime, I have snorkeled the force majeure of the big waves at Banderas Bay – not recommended!


And I have even managed a game of chess with a living-statue chess master!


What I did not do and regret not doing is sketching some pencil portraits along the Puerto Vallarta Malecon.


Hmmm. And I am not sure why I did not! After all, I have done portraits in Ireland.


I have done portraits in The Netherlands.


I have done portraits in Morocco.




And I have done pooch portraits too!



Yes. I REGRET not drawing portraits in Mexico. So, for 2025, be it near a Mexican malecon or a British Columbia boardwalk, I RESOLVE to do pencil portraits in a bigger way than in 2024 and all the years before.


Knowing full well that I can become the person I resolve to be, when I fly back to Sayulita, between palavers of my portrait busking, I also RESOLVE to learn how to surf! And this shall be my New Year quiddity, sketchin’ and surfin’!  


(YES. IT BECKONS.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, December 17, 2024

2024 ANNOTATED DRUMPF XMAS CARD: IF YOU HATE TRUMP, YOU WILL LOVE THIS CARD

WTF?!

My usual designer XMAS CARD took a turn for the worse this 2024. When opening the card my caricature of Donald Trump immediately piques curiosity. Here is the annotated edition of this 2024 card:

  • Drumpf

Note that on his left collar I labelled him “Drumpf.” Drumpf is a German surname that dates to the 16th century and is most known as the predecessor to the family name, Trump. According to research author, Gwenda Blair, Donald’s ancestor, Hanns Drumpf, was an itinerant German lawyer in 1603. Back to the future in 2024, Donald Drumpf is the quintessential emasculated New Yorker socialite, seeking refuge and solace at Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida, and soon at the presidency in 2025.

Calling Donald, Drumpf, is most certainly meant to be condescending (and funny). As a surname, Drumpf sounds even funnier than Trump -- Just ask British comedian, John Oliver! 

  • WTF

The reader will also notice the WTF in big Democratic-blue letters across the top of the inside page. In this case, WTF means WHAT THE FIGGY PUDDING! Rather than swearing with the F-word, the F for Figgy pudding is certainly more festive.

  • Person. Woman. Man. Camera. TV.

How about that five-word cognitive memory test that Trump has been trumpeting?! Under pressure this five-word baptism of fire mental test seems no small matter for such a small wannabe dictator, at least not from the perspective of this five-time-fake-injury military draft dodger, Donald Drumpf.

  • WOW

Yes! Trump aced this test by repeating these five words twice in row! Such an impressive mental exusion for the dull-witted and dastardly, Donald Drumpf.

  • HAPPY NEW YEAR 2029!

This past week Donald Trump has been suggesting that Canada should become the 51st state in America. Trump has been mocking our Canadian Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau and besmirching our Minister of Finance, Chrystia Freeland. Justin Trudeau, has a heart of gold, and is a graduate of McGill University and the University of British Columbia. Hi is bilingual, fluent in English and French. Chrystia Freeland, is a journalist and economist, a graduate of both Harvard and Oxford, and fluent in five languages. Whereas meanwhile, back at the bully pulpit, Donald Drumpf has a vocabulary of 10,000 words, and to employ some Christmassy metaphors, Drumpf has walnut for a brain and a lump of coal for a heart. 

An FYI, Drumpf: Pretty much anything coming from your mouth is fake news. Most Canadians consider you to be a reprehensible and evil being. Lots of Canadians are refusing to travel to the states as long as you're the ringmaster of your swampy circus. You think those who do not agree with you are on a witch hunt, when in fact, we, Canadians, know you are a wannabe warlock. I AM A CANADIAN -- YOU, SIR, ARE A CLOWN. 

Donald’s presidency will end in 2029. As his term in office ends, so will likely be the end of an American century of global dominion. But what do I know? I do know that this XMAS card is an expression of my disdain for the reprehensible, Donald Trump. Donald Trump is the personification of malversation. Do I find some schadenfreude in referring to this malversation as Drumpf? I do, but I digress.

On the front and back cover of the card, are a couple of my traditional yule drawings:




To prove I can be kind at Christmastime, I shall close with a sample of my XMAS CARDS over the last few years:

XMAS SANTA 2019

XMAS CARD 2020

XMAS CARD 2021




MERRY KRISKRINGLEMAS, EVERYONE!

 

 

Friday, December 6, 2024

ONCE IS ENOUGH -- TWICE IS A TREAT

 

MY BUSKING AVATAR

For me, one of anything is usually enough, whereas two of anything can oftentimes be a treat. And when I state, one, I am commented on both time and content. In reference to time, one hour shall suffice for my length of engagement for anything (except for my work contract), whereas about content, one portion shall suffice for practically any product being indulged. For example, I’ve the morning habit of reading the international news from CNN, Al Jazeera, and Fox. (Hmmm. Fox may be more intergalactic than international, because its writers and followers are seemingly from another planet.) Saying this as a Canadian writer, American politics reeks with the stench of the filthiest Augean Stable, the one where members of the Republican Party are kept and fed. When compared to reading Canadian and Western European politics, reading American politics is like reading lollapalooza ugly.

UGLY 

During this morning ugly read, I sip one Nabob cappuccino (no refills necessary).


One hour, too, seems the perfect amount of time that I allot for traveling to and fro home and my two gyms,
Downtown Fitness and Ascendant Martial Arts. Downtown Fitness is my gym for strength training, and just a five-minute walk from home, whereas Ascendant Martial Arts is my gym for Muay Thai training, and just a five-minute drive from home.

At Downtown Fitness, my workouts last just one hour, for five days each week. At Ascendant Martial Arts, my workout is one hour of punches, kicks, knee strikes, and elbow strikes. A one-hour regimen of Muay Thai just one day a week is enough!


WASCANA LAKE and WASCANA POOL and WASCANA RINK, all situated in WASCANA CENTRE, are just walking minutes from my home. And keeping in theme, one hour to and fro for each is suffice. To run the lake takes a half hour. To walk the lake takes 50 minutes. To ride my bike ‘round the lake takes but 20 minutes. Swimming laps in the pool, I schedule myself for just one hour.

Even watching television, I am only good for an hour, two hours and I am Zzzz. A series that I have just finished watching was “MAN ON THE INSIDE.” Though it was five-star fun, I never watched more than two episodes in one sitting. And the same goes for “BLACK DOVES,” another five-star series that I’m currently watching. More staring at the tube would be just squandering my time, for me, quality time powers a quality life.

I do have a load of activities where a two-hour timeslot is a treat. Except for hiking. No matter how long a hike takes, it is always a treat. Disc golf, at the very least, takes a couple of hours. And the better I get, the bigger the treat.

Guitar busking for more than one hour becomes a chore, whereas portrait busking for a couple of hours can be a treat.


A GRAND LADY AND HER DOG

MICHAEL PAYNE, THE MOST FAMOUS HYPNOTHERAPIST IN LIMERICK IRELAND

Writing this blog is always a treat and always takes about an hour (for the first draft), whereas writing each day for a couple hours on my next novel, the sequel to QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH, is a treat!


A CHILLY RIDE

Enough of my notions on time. ‘Tis time now to turn to product. (Pun intended!) I never eat breakfast and my lunches are always very light. Even so, just one helping at suppertime of my most favorite cuisine is usually enough. But it is the after-supper snacks that are my killers!

Factoid: Last evening I bought a 165 g bag of “Maynards LICORICE ALLSORTS,” and I gormandized the entire bagful within an hour. With NATURAL COLOURS & FLAVOURS it had to be healthy right?! Introspection causes my dander to rise and thinking about it gives me a stomach-ache! Assorted licorice is not a good pre-game, pre-busk, or pre-anything meal!


Practically every evening I tap TIMMY’S for a London Fog or a Chai tea or a Cappuccino or a Macchiato. (Timmy’s is a Canadian cultural icon, known elsewhere on the planet as TIM HORTONS.) But always just one. And when I partake of other diners, which is often because I live right downtown where the diners are many and diverse, I limit my alcohol consumption to just one drink.

Factoid:  Just one drink of alcohol for me, is one drink of alcohol too many. Alcohol does not enhance my life in any way, not even socially.

If there is any message in this blogpost it could be that line of caution from Democritus, the ancient Greek philosopher, who stated, “Throw moderation to the winds, and the greatest pleasures bring the greatest pains.” This was followed up by another ancient Greek philosopher, Socrates, who stated, “All things in moderation, including moderation.”

But American actress and singer, Mae West, said it best:

YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE, BUT IF YOU DO IT RIGHT, ONCE IS ENOUGH.”

MAE WEST

I shall close this essay with A BIG WOOF to my dogophile pal, Robin, who created the avatars atop and below my words in this post.

WOOF!