Seen in this poorly-written Chronicle-Herald story: the Conservatives want to create a criminal offence prohibiting “the non-consensual distribution of intimate images.” That’s a good thing, and it’s long, long overdue. Rehtaeh Parsons’ Dad, who has worked tirelessly to push for this change (and more), deserves the Order of Canada for his efforts.
(Why is the story poorly-written, you ask? The snotty use of the word “alleges” – as in, “Her family alleges the 17-year-old was sexually assaulted at a party in November 2011 and then relentlessly bullied after a digital photo of the alleged assault was distributed.”
I don’t have one. In fact, I don’t give a rat’s ass, and I plan to say so on Sun News in an hour or so.
The so-called “consumer focus” that everyone’s buzzing about, North of the Queensway, could not possibly be more irrelevant, as we are now hours away from the first-ever default by the United States of America.
The U.S. Treasury Department says a default would be catastrophic, and it would be – there and here. Credit markets will freeze, interest rates will soar, (sluggish) economic growth will fully stop, and our close trading relationship with the U.S. will ensure we are thrown back into recession. A worse one than the last one.
Remember Lehmann Brothers in 2008? That single firm’s default commenced a downward spiral that led to a global recession. So if the U.S. government defaults, the consequences will be a lot worse, wouldn’t you say?
Today’s Throne Speech is fiddling while Rome burns. It’s a joke.
Train your eyes South of the border. Washington’s the only capital that matters, today.
Anyway, if Mr. Bourrie is successful in sending me to the slammer, I expect y’all to send me cards and letters, to help me pass the time in the big house.
Hell, you could send nice letters to Mr. Bourrie, too, while you’re at it.
One of my great loves, for the past while, is Massachusetts/Virginia Fat Wreck Chords band Smoke Or Fire. I love these guys, and I sometimes feel like no one else has heard of them. Couldn’t sleep last night, and so ‘1968’ was playing on an endless loop in my head. Here it is – plus Joe’s amazing lyrics – in the hope it gets a spot on your own internal turntable.
The tension in the air is swelling like a bubble about to break Students have shut down universities and taken to the streets The DNC has left Chicago burned and frayed
Cover your eyes You think America’s recovered from the self-inflicted wounds it took in 1968? Still Corretta led his people through the Memphis streets In spite of the nightmare that was made out of a dream [x2]
Young men sent overseas, their names are in a lottery that kills There are social clashes, body counts, and rioting on TV screens A bullet put another Kennedy to sleep
Cover your eyes You think America’s recovered from the self-inflicted wounds it took in 1968? Still Corretta led his people through the Memphis streets In spite of the nightmare that was made out of a dream [x2]
So why this disconnect in our youth after 40 years? Peace, tried and failed, while the radio played “As my guitar gently weeps” Where’s the rage in the young towards war and hatred based on race? The CIA silenced “The people’s new messiah,” and now history repeats
Are we so blind to see this country hasn’t changed?
Cover your eyes You think America’s recovered from the self-inflicted wounds it took in 1968? Still Corretta led his people through the Memphis streets In spite of the nightmare that was made out of a dream
Media probes of Ford crack-smoking were ethical and responsible, says press tribunal. But you already knew that.
UPDATE: I’m never a fan of her approach – here, the “I-oppose-the-Press-Council-but-let-me-quote-the-Press-Council-to-you-because-they-did-something-I-like” – but the Star’s crown coddled columnist wrote something about all this that I found quite useful:
That paragraph is a neat and tidy summary of the disgrace that is la famille Ford. If I get involved in the next mayoralty – and that’s only if my hoped-for candidate runs – I will do my utmost to ensure that every single voting Torontonian knows the above paragraph like the back of their proverbial hand. I want the hulking, shambling mass that is Rob Ford to slouch back to the rock under which he lives in Etobicoke every night, and cry like a baby – weeping, destroyed – in front of his thug-brother. I want him humiliated, because that’s what he’s done to this city.
Always late to the party, I just spotted these: me, Davey Snot and Lala onstage with the Palma Violets at the Grove Fest in August. Pix by Atsuko Kobasigawa. Cool.
Right now, lawyers are crowding into a Toronto courtroom for a fairly extraordinary hearing. They are there to gain access to a nearly-500-page police ITO (Information To Obtain) that led to a search warrant. The ITO apparently contains the name “Rob Ford” more than 100 times.
You may have heard of Rob Ford. He’s the Mayor of Toronto, and his personal driver apparently used drugs to get back Ford’s cell phone:
What will be the outcome of the hearing, and discussions with the Crown? We shall see. But my prediction is that Ford’s involvement with criminals will occupy a lot of folks in a lot of newsrooms this week.
