From Christmas Past

Charles Dickens wrote a “Christmas Carol” a century or two ago; a story that is told, and retold, on television every year around this time. Watching Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Past traipse through the portals of time got me to thinking about Christmas back in the early fifties, when I was still a kid. Yes, it was a long time ago; I’ve celebrated Christmas in each of the last seven decades.

Maybe it’s just that, as someone once said: "There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child." Or, maybe I’m just turning into a sentimental old fool but I think Christmas has changed a lot since then.

Except for my youth, and the good health which accompanied it, I’m not really nostalgic for anything about the fifties. I don’t miss the outhouse, for example, especially in the middle of winter where shaking it more than once caused the formation of icicles making it difficult to stuff “the wee thing” back into your britches. And, I don’t miss crowding around the coal stove in the living room with “the old man” yelling from his big chair by the door to “Sit back and let the heat get out.”

And, I certainly don’t miss dragging the coal scuttles up the ladder from the cellar to keep both stoves glowing red (the other stove was the cooking stove in the kitchen).

No. It’s not nostalgia. But, nowadays I sometimes look at the wealth of gifts under a Christmas tree and wonder if kids today wouldn’t feel a little short-changed if they had to celebrate Christmas the way we did over half a century ago?

Back then, you weren’t likely to find a whole lot in the way of “store bought” goods under the tree. Each of the kids would get a gift from Santa (via Eaton’s or Simpson’s catalogue), but, mostly, it was knitted or other hand made goods; sweaters, scarves, mitts, etc. The kids of today would likely have a few nasty words for Santa if they were treated to the same kind of gift giving. There were no X-boxes, MP3 players, video games, etc, etc. Hell, they hadn’t even invented the transistor radio back then.

But, there were always Christmas treasures to which people looked forward. For me, it was the annual Christmas box from “Granny” Gordon, or, as my mother called it, “th’ parcel frae hame”. It wasn’t that the parcel contained anything of great significance, but rather the thought behind it. It had traveled thousands of miles across a very big ocean just to say, “We love you.”

There was usually an array of knitted goods, a bottle or two of ginger wine for Ma and a carton or two of Wild Woodbine cigarettes for Da. There was an assortment of candy for the kids and six months of comics from the Sunday Post (the other six months of comics came in the summer parcel), as well as copies of “Topper” and later on, “Beezer”. My favourite strips were “The Broons” and “Oor Wullie”.

I suspect the kids of today might find such gifts a trifle tame. I hope they still grow up with some appreciation for both the reason we celebrate Christmas and the thought behind the gifts.

Maybe I really am turning into a sentimental old fool

Note: My father didn’t always get his full complement of Wild Woodbine. Granny Gordon passed on sometime around 1952, if I recall correctly, but my mother’s sisters continued the tradition of sending parcels for many years after her death. It was from one of those summer parcels which my brother Tom and I confiscated a pack of smokes for our first taste of cigarette tobacco.

It was a year or two after we moved to Bog Row in 1954. We took the cigarettes and a fistful of wooden matches and sat on the side of the “red hill” until they were gone. I didn’t have another cigarette until I was about to board the plane for my first job in Montreal in 1962.

Diary Of A Snow Shoveller

December 8: 6:00 PM. It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses Print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!

December 9: We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Could there be a more lovely place in the whole world? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled for the first time in years; felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.

December 12: The sun has melted all our lovely snow. What a disappointment. My neighbour tells me not to worry; we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbour.

December 14: Snow, lovely snow; eight inches fell last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15: 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and two extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.

December 16: Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.

December 17: Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for seven hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. There’s nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20: Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of the damn stuff last night. More shoveling. Took all day. Bloody snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbour kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower, and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.

December 22: Bob was right about a white Christmas, because 13 more inches of the white crap fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt 'til August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel, and then I had to take a piss. By the time I got undressed, did my thing and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel! Tried to hire Bob (who has a plow on his truck) for the rest of the winter, but he says he's too busy. I think the bastard’s lying.

December 23: Only two inches of snow today, and it warmed up to "0". The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What, is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did, but I think she's lying.

December 24: 6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, I broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the stupid f**ker who drives that snowplow, I'll drag him through the snow and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over everywhere I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was too busy watching for the f**king snowplow.

December 25: Merry f**cking Christmas. 20 more inches of the f**king slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God, I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's a f**king idiot. If I have to watch “It's a Wonderful Life” one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave.

December 26: Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27: Temperature dropped to -30, and the pipes froze. Plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him. He only charged me $1,400 to replace all my pipes.

December 28: Warmed up to above -50. Still snowed in. The f**king wife is driving me crazy!!!!!

December 29: 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How f**king dumb does he think I am?

December 30: Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver. Now, he’s suing me for a million dollars. Not only for the beating I gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass. The wife went home to her mother. Nine inches of snow predicted.

December 31: I set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.

January 8: Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. But why am I tied to the f**king bed?

I lifted this bit from the web. For more Christmas humour, visit:
Joe-ks.com

Bargain basement photo editor

It’s a stereotype, of course, but Scotsmen have a reputation as being tight with a buck. My kids often use the word cheap. I like to think that I simply have an eye for a bargain. And there’s a lot of real bargains to be found on the web in the form of freeware. Not adware, spyware or trialware, but fully functional, no strings attached freeware.

The graphic which accompanies this post was created in an application called Photo Filtre. In fact, all the graphics you see on this web log were either created, or edited, in Photo Filtre. I picked up the program a year or so ago, and it’s one of the best I’ve ever used for image editing and special effects.

And, what’s just as amazing as its’ intuitive interface and ease of use, is the fact that it’s free.

The application was developed by a guy called Antonio Da Cruz and the man deserves a five star rating for making the program available free for personal use. The application itself gets a five star rating from most distributors and users.

I’ve tried a lot of commercial programs, including some of the high cost “professional” applications with their steep learning curves. They just don’t compare. In fact, since picking up a copy of Photo Filtre, I’ve removed all those commercial programs, to save some space, since I no longer used them; I found that I could do everything I wanted to do in Photo Filtre with a lot less effort and a whole lot less frustration.

The program offers all the standard editing features (selection, clone brush, paint brush etc.) as well as a large selection of image effects, photo masks, image adjustments, thumbnail browser and much more. The program also supports batch processing to apply filters, sizing, adjustments and transformations to a large number of images at once. PhotoFiltre comes with a modern, well designed interface and is well suited for everything from simple resizing to advanced photo editing. You can also add text captions to your photos.

And, did I mention that it’s free!

The only criticism I’ve been able to find involves the fact that Photo Filtre doesn’t support “layers” or PhotoShop filters. Neither drawback is likely to be considered a major flaw by most users. PhotoShop was one of the programs I removed after installing and using Photo Filtre for several months.

So whether you think I’m “tight with a buck”, just plain cheap or you fully appreciate the fact that I really do have an eye for a bargain, check it out. If you like messing with photographs, it’s a handy-dandy little program to have lying around on your desktop.

You can find a copy of Photo Filtre by typing “Photo Filtre Free” into your browser search engine, or just click on the following link.

Photo Filtre Free

Weird & wacky country songs (3)

In previous posts, I’ve written about some of the weird and wacky song titles in the wonderful world of country music. The titles came from a list compiled by persons unknown, at least to me. At the time I copied the list, I forgot to write down the name of the site. So I humbly apologize for being unable to give the guy proper credit. Here’s some more songs, including some from the list.

One song that didn’t make the list was a big hit for Hank Thompson in the fifties and one of my favourites at the time. It was also a politically incorrect little number that would be unlikely to get any airplay these days. It was called “The Squaws Along The Yukon (Are Good Enough For Me)”.
“She makes her underwear,
From the hides of grizzly bear
She bathes in ice cold water ever day
Her skin I love to touch,
But I can’t touch it much
Because her fur-lined parka’s in the way.”

Hank Thompson also recorded (“The Tears Have Washed I Love You From) The Blackboard Of My Heart”. Although the song title may sound funny to-day, it was a serious ballad about love gone wrong; a real tear jerker that reached number one on the country charts back in the fifties.

Jimmy Buffett, although not technically a country singer despite his hits “Margarittaville” and “Its Five O’clock Somewhere” with Alan Jackson, deserves some recognition for some of the stranger song titles; for example; ”If The Phone Doesn’t Ring (It’s Me Not Calling You)”. He also recorded “My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink And I Don’t Love Jesus” and “Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Screw.”

Some songs are just plain weird . . . and mean. One such entry was, “Mama Get the Hammer, There’s A Fly On Papa’s Head.” Then, there’s the cover of that same song, a parody called, “Get The Hammer Mama, There’s A Head On Papa’s Fly”.

If you’re a true aficionado of country music, you’ll know that men and women don’t always react the same way to being dumped. Men often get bitter; “If You Want To Keep The Beer Cold (Put it Next To My Ex-wife’s Heart).” or “I'm So Miserable Without You, It's Like Having You Here” Or, how about, “If I Can't Be Number One In Your Life (Then Number Two On You)”. Now, that’s bitter.

Some, though, are quite pleased to see their woman’s backside as she’s walking away, as in Roy Clark’s “Thank God And Greyhound She’s Gone“.

Some of the song titles were just plain silly. There was one in the list, from back in the fifties, called “I Was Lookin’ Back To See”. They gave the wrong song title, but I knew what they were referring to because I once had the original 78 rpm record. It went:
“I was lookin’ back to see,
If you were lookin’ back to see
If I was lookin’ back to see,
If you were lookin’ back at me
You were cute as you could be
Standing lookin’ back at me
And it was plain to see
That I’d enjoy your company.

I have no idea why the words are still in my head after half a century, but not even Garth Brooks could get that one to the top of the charts these days.

Then there are the songs that ask questions about the eternal mysteries of life. Songs like ”If You Can't Live Without Me, Why Aren't You Dead Yet?” Or that other old standard, “Why Do You Believe Me When I Tell You That I Love You (When You Know I've Been A Liar All My Life)?” It’s hard to say if this next question came from a guy looking for the answer to the many mysteries of life or just somebody trying out a new pick-up line. It’s called, “I Can't Get Over You, So Why Don't You Get Under Me?”

There were songs about guys overcome with guilt and begging forgiveness, “Thanks To the Cathouse, I'm In The Doghouse With You”. There were songs which seem to have been written by braggarts, and which were likely intended as double entendre: “There Ain't Enough Room in My Fruit of the Looms (To Hold All My Lovin' for You).” And there are songs that can’t be meant as anything but double entendre. Either that or I’m turning into a dirty old man. For example, “I Hate Every Bone In Your Body (Except For Mine)”.

But, that’s enough from this scribe for the day; my butt is starting to feel a little like the guy who wrote: “I Sat Down On a Beartrap (Just This Morning)”.

On second thought . . . while the songs noted above are real, there was another site with some made up song titles, by made up artists. I thought it might be interesting to make up a list of songs that might be done by someone like Toby Keith. Or the Old Rambler.

Tough as F**k (I Can Lick Any Girl In The House) – Toby Keith
These Boots Were Made for Shit-Kickin’ – Toby Keith
I Ain't Drunk, I’m Just Pukin' (So What’s Your Excuse) – Toby Keith
Watchin’ Too Many Toby Keith Videos – The Old Rambler
These Colors Don't Run: They Goose–Step! – Toby Keith

The crazy calendar caper

For those of you who don’t know, I live in a housing co-op. It’s a little different than living in a “normal” apartment building, because you get to know a lot more of your neighbours through members meetings, social functions, etc. I’ve been living in here for the past fourteen years.

This year, the Board of Directors hired a consultant to review the operations of the co-op. His regular fee was $125.00 an hour, but the co-op got him for the bargain basement price of $75.00 an hour. People really should be more careful when buying discounted goods and/or services.

Now, this particular consultant had a thing about something called “risk management”. I know a little about risk management from my years with Goodyear Canada. Yes, there was a time in my life when I was gainfully employed. Risk management, in very simple terms, is assessing the risk associated with the actions you take or decisions you make.

For example, when you come to an icy patch on the sidewalk, you walk around it or run the risk of falling on your ass. Likewise, you don’t punch your neighbour in the nose because his dog dirtied your lawn or you run the risk of being dragged off to the lock-up by the local constabulary.

Our cleaner had a couple of calendars hanging in the garbage room which housed the garbage compactor. For several years, our coordinator (manager), a woman of roughly my age of sixty-something, had give the cleaner a calendar around Christmas. These were not nudies, but calendars similar to the ones illustrated at the top of this post. They were no more revealing than the photos of Sunshine Girls published regularly in the Toronto Sun.

But, the Board of Directors and their $75.00 an hour consultant deemed them a “risk” to the co-op and demanded that they be removed as part of their new “risk management” strategy. I’m not entirely sure of the nature of the risk: it might have been any of several bonafide risks to the assets of the co-op.

For instance, some old guy like myself might have wandered into the garbage room, spotted the pictures of scantily-clad young women and died on the spot from the excitement. Or, some kid could have wandered into the garbage room and tripped over a calendar while he was walking across the wall.

At the time the Board of Directors issued their “Cease and Desist” ultimatum, the members simply chuckled.

But, a few days ago, the cleaner received an early Christmas gift from a member with a sense of humour. He gave the cleaner a Sunshine Girl calendar, leaving the cleaner in a quandary. He can’t hang the calendar in the garbage room because the Board will simply demand that he remove it or, maybe fire him. He’s afraid to hang it in his garage lest his wife cut him . . er . . . cease to perform her wifely duties.

The Board and their overpaid consultant have got him so nervous he’s even afraid his own daughter, a law student, might sue him for sexism if he hangs it in his workshop.

The Board might have a suggestion as to what he could do with it, but I’m sure there’s a law against inserting a calendar in any body cavity under any circumstances. The cleaner has some ideas of his own as to what he might do with the calendar. But, as I’ve already noted, it’s probably against the law, even if the chosen cavity belongs to someone on the Board of Directors.

And, for this exercise in risk management, they paid the charlatan consultant $75.00 an hour. Go figure!

The blasphemous teddy bear

It seems every blogger on the net has had a few words to say about Gillian Gibbons and the blasphemous teddy bear. So why not me?

British elementary school teacher Gillian Gibbons was arrested in Sudan, on November 25, 2007, accused of insulting Islam's Prophet by letting her class of 7-year-olds name a teddy bear Mohammed. Ms. Gibbons teaches at Unity High School, one of a number of exclusive British-run schools in the Sudanese capital of Khartoum.

What was the nature of her crime? She asked her class of six and seven year olds to dress up and name a teddy bear, and keep a diary of his outings. Her young class was due to study the behavior and habitat of bears. The bear was to serve as a kind of “case study”. And it would have passed without incident, except for the name the children chose for their bear: Muhammad.

Following a quick trial, Gibbons was sentenced to 15 days in prison for insulting Islam. She could have faced a maximum of 40 lashes and/or a year in prison under Sudan's legal code, which is based on British law but modified to include Sharia punishments. Sharia (Sari-ah) is the body of Islamic religious law and deals with many aspects of day-to-day life, including politics, business, family, sexuality, hygiene, and social issues.

Demonstrators wielding ceremonial swords took to the streets in Sudan's desert capital to vent their anger at Gibbons. A crowd of about 1,000 young men streamed out of mosques to gather outside Khartoum's presidential palace, later marching to the British Embassy and burning newspapers bearing images of the 54 year old teacher. The crowd was demanding that the teacher be executed following her conviction on charges of blasphemy.

It is believed that the treatment of Gibbons was Sudan's way of censuring the British government for making a solution to the slaughter in Darfur a cornerstone of its foreign policy. Religion has often been used in Muslim countries for political ends.

CNN reported on Monday that Gibbons had been pardoned by the president of Sudan and released into the custody of the British Consulate. Saner heads prevail.

But, Muslims must be aware that such incidents can do much to harm the image of Islam. Angry young men marching through the streets, brandishing swords and demanding the death of this woman, perpetuate the image of Islam as a religion of fanatics. However, I suspect the Prophet would not be happy with the failure of these men to control their anger or to show forgiveness for a transgression committed with neither knowledge nor intent.

But, while Ms. Gibbons may have been unaware of the taboo against naming inanimate objects or animals Mohammed, the same cannot be said of the US company, which, within days of the incident in Sudan, had posted an ad on the web, selling stuffed teddy bears wearing a t-shirt proclaiming, “My name is Muhammed.”

The ad encourages people to show their support against hatred and intolerance by “buying and displaying the one Muhammed selling worldwide, Teddy Muhammed”. It’s an interesting concept; thumb your nose at the fanatics by intentionally insulting all Muslims, including those moderates who publicly denounced the events in the Sudan.

In small, greyed out print, there is the claim that, “This one Teddy Bear is capturing attention to important facts about how children and adults can’t even have a stuffed toy without fear of harm. Your purchase supports us in our fight to end intolerance.”

The episode didn’t happen because a child had a stuffed animal. It happened because the stuffed bear was given the name of Islam’s Prophet. The incident was blown out of all reasonable proportions by a group of fanatics intent on making a political statement. The matter was settled because men of reason stood their ground against the religious zealots and took appropriate action to right the wrong. Gillian Gibbons, by now, is likely home safe in England, which is as it should be.

But, those people selling Teddy Muhammed seem intent on fanning the flames of a fire that had been all but extinguished. And, they are doing so in pursuit of the almighty dollar. The “fight against hatred and intolerance” is just another sales pitch.

New word for the day - blas·phe·my (blăs'fə-mē) n

• A contemptuous or profane act, utterance, or writing concerning God or a sacred entity.
• The act of claiming for oneself the attributes and rights of God.
• An irreverent or impious act, attitude, or utterance in regard to something considered inviolable or sacrosanct.

Blackwater - unique & timely solutions

If you were to go to the website of Blackwater, often referred to as the world’s largest mercenary army, you would find the following:

Innovation Begins with Experience
Blackwater Worldwide efficiently and effectively integrates a wide range of resources and core competencies to provide unique and timely solutions that exceed our customers’ stated needs and expectations.

We are guided by integrity, innovation, and a desire for a safer world. Blackwater Worldwide professionals leverage state-of-the-art training facilities, professional program management teams, and innovative manufacturing and production capabilities to deliver world-class, customer-driven solutions.

Our corporate leadership and dedicated family of exceptional employees adhere to essential core values - chief among these are integrity, innovation, excellence, respect, accountability, and teamwork.

Huh. Just who in the hell are these guys again.

Oh, yes. They’re mercenaries who provide “security” services to anyone with the money to pay them. Their biggest customer these days is the US State Department. So why the double-speak from their website? Could it be that they’re a little bit embarrassed by the way their “professional program management teams” are conducting business in Iraq these days?

According to an unidentified spokesperson, “Blackwater guards (a dedicated family of exceptional employees?) reacted lawfully to an attack on one of its convoys.” The spokesperson was commenting on an August 16, 2007 incident in which, according to initial reports, eleven Iraqi civilians were killed and fifteen others wounded. The latest news reports put the death toll at seventeen, with twenty-three others wounded when a Blackwater security detail opened fire in Nisoor Square in Baghdad.

One might reasonably ask whose law they were acting lawfully under. Back in 2004, the US State Department granted Blackwater (as well as other private security contractors) immunity from prosecution under not only Iraqi law, but under the US Uniform Code of Military Justice. Nor does this private contractor have to worry about following the Geneva Conventions.

It is also unlikely Blackwater employees can be tried in the United States for crimes outside that jurisdiction, which means that Blackwater is accountable to no one. (A US rights group announced it was filing a petition to have the courts decide if they can be tried in a civil proceeding on behalf of a survivor and the families of three victims.)

The shooting prompted a wave of outrage in Iraq about the activities of private US security firms protecting diplomats and foreign workers, and calls for those responsible for the deaths to be tried in Iraqi courts.

An official Iraqi investigation, ordered by Iraqi prime minister, Nouri al-Maliki, claims guards from the US security firm had not been shot at before they opened fire on Iraqi civilians in Baghdad. This contention is supported by accounts from the first (legitimate) US soldiers to arrive on the scene, who claimed no evidence was found to support Blackwater contentions that they had come under fire.

According to a US congressional report released a month or so ago, Blackwater has been involved in 195 shooting incidents in Iraq since 2005. In 84% of those cases, the report claims, Blackwater personnel were the first to open fire.

And, apparently, it’s not just the shootings of innocent civilians by private contractors in Iraq that has Washington concerned. Federal prosecutors are investigating allegations that employees of Blackwater smuggled weapons into Iraq that may have ended up in the hands of a designated terrorist organization, the PKK (Kurdistan Workers Party).

The Raleigh News & Observer reported that two former Blackwater employees are cooperating with federal authorities investigating the accusations. They pleaded guilty earlier this year to possession of stolen firearms that had been shipped in interstate or foreign commerce. In their plea agreements, which call for a maximum sentence of 10 years in prison and a $250,000 fine, the men agreed to testify in any future proceedings.

Back in July, Turkey officially protested to US officials that they had seized US weapons from captured PKK terrorists. The Turkish government provided the US with serial numbers from the weapons which are now being traced by the FBI.

A joint US/Iraqi commission is looking into the incident in Nisoor Square to try and sort out what really happened. The US is conducting its own investigation into the illegal smuggling of weapons into Iraq.

Neither is likely to result in anything more than a mild reprimand to any of the offending parties. A few foot soldiers will be designated as bad apples and have their butts kicked but the big wigs with the big wallets will walk away.

We’ve seen it all before; another incident; another investigation; another whitewash.