Another ijit sighting

Across the back alley and down a few houses there is a guy who builds custom racing transmissions and belongs to a classic car club.  Last year I came home to a flyer in my mailbox (the one that says quite clearly NO FLYERS) that was advertising a block party.  Ok, that one I would accept but when the day dawned the weather was SO snotty that I didn't end up going.  This year, I was anxiously awaiting the flyer that didn't come.  Saturday I had company over (ok, Chris, we've become pretty good friends) that had seen, and ridden in one of the classics.  While I was in the house retrieving a beer he heard the car pass in the alley.  Running to open the garage door and have a peek at where it had disappeared to, he discovered that it was parked down the alley.  He made me go have a peek at it when I saw a '67 Camaro rag-top that I had been in love with when I was pumping gas in high school (ok, not the exact one, but very similar).  After some urging, I convinced him that we should have a wander down there and talk to these old guys about their cars. Kinda like people with dogs, old guys with classic cars are ready to talk about their cars.  What we discovered when we went down there was that the cassic car block party was on, 'help yourself to a beer'.  We wandered around and took some pictures of the cars, had a beer and left.  One of the cars was a racing Dart that had been hauled in on a trailer and the guy that owned it would start it up every hour or so, give it a rev and then shut it down.  Seems like a good time was had by all.  A few pics and then I'll get to the ijit sighting.  Pre-apologies for the qualities of the pics, I let the apprentice run the camera.

 The sight as we walked down the alley.  How cool is that?

Not the girl I had remembered from pumping gas, but a work in progress.

 The car that Chris rode in.

A wonderful old Fairlane.

 An old VW van.  Take THAT to the drive-in.  All it needs is dingle-balls.

 A rest stop built by someone with a Jeep.  Oh nice.  Needs a tent though.

What old guy doesn't like a gal interested in cars?

 Don't have a clue what to say about this one.

Newer models accepted.

 The Fairlane again.

Apparently dogs accepted.  Mine would have had this one for a snack.

For some reason we have a shot of the Dart's motor cowling.

This old guy lives across the the alley from the offending garage.

This show extends to bikes too.

Not knowing what beed of beast this is.  Maybe a Triumph?

And the belle of the ball.

A mini dragster.

 Chris getting 'friendly' with the Chevelle.  I had to remind him that a whole lot o' classic car guys do not appreciate hands on the car.  454, and I guess he must have cuddled it just right; he won one of the best door prizes of the evening, a winter jacket that will be put to good use.

  













The next day around 11, a trailer showed up to pick up the dragster.  When the trailer went past the back, it broke a branch off the very HUGE poplar tree in the neighbor's yard and broke it off.  Well, said neghbor went out and broke off the offending branch.  He surveyed the damage and looked at what he had left and decided to cut more offending branches off and proceeded to get his extension ladder and chain saw out.  Not a problem so far.  Except that he neglected to tie either himself or the ladder off.  Safety says, tie yourself off to the tree and also tie the ladder off to the tree.  Neither was happening here and all I could do was watch in fascination.  Hero dude was basically at the top of the ladder running the chainsaw with one hand and ended up cutting off a branch that was about 6" or 8" across the butt.  When he cut it off, it decided to hit the ground and come back and hit him back.  Well, he came off that ladder like he was shot from a rocket, the father unit was hollering, and the wife came out of the house with a dishtowel that he promptly placed over his face.  Haven't seen him since, but I think we heave a nasal reconstruction going on here.

A couple of songs

I don't know where you stand on performer's politics, but to me they should keep their politics to themselves.  Quite some time ago there was a shit-show about the Dixie Chicks's Natalie Maynes remarking that she was embarrased that the president of the United States was from Texas which, as far as I'm concerned, is her right.  Is she not a citizen of the United States of America which was founded on the right to free speech?  That total arrogant ass Toby Keith weighed in and a war ensued which totally ruined The Chicks' career.  After a rather lengthy hiatus the Dixie Chicks came out with the following song.

And then, shortly after, came this one from Toby Keith.  A rebuttal perhaps?

what's growing at the house of Deb?

Glad you asked, but first I have to tell you that I finally leapt into the digital age so will have more pictures up.  My truck as finally paid off last August so I had more jingle in my jeans and could afford to go kinda nuts this spring so I bought some annuals and some perennials (the perennials so I just have to fill in the blanks next year even though I rent).

a couple of these beauties

Not sure what this little guy is, I know, I should have kept the little plastic doodads

any ideas?

A couple of small roses.  Not sure if they'll survive the winter, but we'll give it a shot.

Bachelor buttons.  Apparently they come in annual and perennial varieties, not sure what these are.

 This pair of beauties was purchased for me by TFHU after we had to have Buddy put down (the little dog in my profile picture).  I call them my pet memorials.

Sorry, didn't mean to get all artsy-fartsy on ya, but sometimes  do that.

 I added a couple of hanging baskets late in the year.  They're not doing too well, but that's what you get when things are discounted.

 My 'maters don't seem to be doing so well.  Don't know why, I used to be the 'mater queen!

 Because my deck is on the west side of the house, it gets hotter 'n hell out there in the afternoon, so of course I had to purchase some shade.  Went with a proper gazebo the first year I was here but it never made it through the winter, so late last summer I bought a car shelter and have dolled it up with my chili-pepper lights (thanks Karen) and a couple of hurricane candle holders.  Add some blue rope light around the railing, outdoor speakers and we be stylin'.  The only complaint I get from the neighbors about my music is that it's not loud enough.

Redneck hauling solutions

Note to motorists: Don't do this

A B.C. man was reprimanded by police earlier this month for trying to load a full-sized refrigerator into the trunk of his car, officials said today.

Richmond RCMP officers said the Aug. 8 incident occurred in the parking lot of Liquidation World on Sexsmith Road in Richmond. Police said they received a call of a dangerous driving situation.

When police arrived, they found the man trying to move the fridge via his Honda Accord.

Police said the refrigerator sat precariously on the car's rear bumper, with barely a third of the device in the trunk.

The rest of the fridge, protruding from the car, was secured using a contraption of ropes - attached to the car's rear seat belts.

After police arrived, the man unloaded the refrigerator and arranged alternative transportation.


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A sad Monday in Canadian politics

It was announced yesterday morning that the leader of the opposition lost his latest battle with cancer.  Jack Layton passed away at 04:45 at home, surrounded by family.  No matter your political stripe, Layton stepped up and served his country well, as had his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him.  I cannot put into words his service so will put up an article from today's paper. 
Layton's passing has left a major hole in the NDP.  The interim leader that he appointed when he announced his leave of absence in July has ties to the Bloc Quebecois, and a bunch of his elected seatholders are very, very green (as in rookies).  We'd best put our hats in the 'on' and 'lock' position and buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride for a while.
Rest easy Jack, you did what you could.

OTTAWA — In February 2010, Jack Layton held a news conference in Toronto to announce that he had prostate cancer, a disease his father overcame 17 years earlier.

"Like my dad, I'm a fighter, and I'm going to beat this," he said, with Olivia by his side. "In the coming weeks, the schedule of treatments might mean I'll have more time to watch the Olympics on TV, so I can be inspired by our athletes as they exercise determination, and they'll inspire all of us."

Layton was looking, as always, on the bright side, and wearing that Willy Loman smile, but it was not an easy moment. At home that night, though, he felt a mysterious happiness.

"I said to Olivia that night that I'd experienced this incredible sense of joy," he told me in April. "Where is that coming from? It wasn't exactly thrilling, upbeat news. The next morning we had all these emails, people saying they'd been praying for me and that I was in their thoughts. And I realized that it was the impact of so many people seeing on the news what we were going through and people sending their thoughts and prayers — people in the 60s would say good vibrations — my way. And that's continuing. Of course I'm getting better."

I would like to think that Jack Layton felt those good vibrations for the rest of his life, especially in his last months, when he was suffering terribly. I know he felt them during his last election campaign, because wherever he went people wished him well.

"It's just that generosity of Canadians, who say to you, 'How's it going?' " he told me. "Most people have been through similar health challenges or someone in their family might have been grappling with cancer or some major surgery. And the result is their first instinct, no matter who they support politically or if they're even interested in politics, they want to send out encouraging words to you, and I have to say it means a lot."

In his extraordinary last campaign, striding purposefully with his cane and his smile, struggling courageously and without complaint through a gruelling cross-country tour, Canadians came to see him in a new light. His forthright appeals for support, which once seemed hucksterish, took on greater depth, and even his opponents privately admired his guts.

He was brave even to be on the campaign. He chose to bring the government down, in spite of his health problems, because he believed the spring budget didn't do enough, in particular for seniors.

He didn't even think about holding his nose and voting for it, and in the campaign that followed he forged a new bond with Canadians and convinced them to vote NDP in record numbers.

It is an extraordinary achievement, the capstone to what was already a fine career.

When Layton became leader in 2003, the party had 13 seats. This spring Layton became the first New Democrat to serve as leader of the official Opposition. The NDP has 103 seats, 59 of them in Quebec.

His breakthrough there was the most hopeful development for federalism in Quebec since the collapse of the Meech Lake accord in 1990 and the ascent of the Bloc Quebecois.

For six straight elections — from 1993 to 2008 — the Bloc held a majority of seats in Quebec, a sovereigntist logjam at the heart of our federation.

Bloc MPs, for all their virtues, delivered a negative, corrosive message to Quebec voters about Canada.

Layton, with his smile, his cane, his hopeful message and his colloquial street French, was "un bon Jack," a good guy. Quebecers voted for him in large numbers and broke the back of the Bloc.

That has been derided as a fluke, the victory of personality politics, and we've all had fun at the expense of the barmaids and poli sci students who were elected on his coattails, but Layton won those votes after years of hard work, carefully tailoring messages for Quebec, and slowly building a bridge to a constituency that others had written off.

He did it by convincing Quebecers to vote for the values they share with English Canadians, and those votes healed the breach that was opened by the collapse of Meech, and widened by the sponsorship scandal.

Layton's death leaves a great gulf, and we can't know whether the bridge he built will outlast him, but he did all he could, and we ought to be grateful to him for that, and take comfort in the fact that our good wishes were a source of joy to him in his darkest hours







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From the Op/Ed pages of the Calgary Herald

How I wish my father was alive to see this



God save the Queen!

Being of a patriotic disposition, these were my first delighted words on learning that our armed forces could have their names back. As Defence Minister Peter MacKay confirmed Tuesday, the Canadian Army, Royal Canadian Navy and Royal Canadian Air Force, names written in blood on so many pages of our history, are to be restored.

The suppression of those magnificent names, and their replacement with the generic bureaucratic nomenclature of 1968, was a source of grief and discouragement to almost every veteran of Canada's wars and to the overwhelming majority of serving military. They obeyed because obedience to duly constituted authority is trained into the nature of a good soldier; and Canada has always had fine soldiers.

And their pride in their traditions became sublimated. It survived as many things do, in adversity; silent in words, but revealed in action. The very fact that soldiers, sailors and airmen were an embarrassment to that flower-child age, that their calling was being twisted in the new "peacekeeping" jargon, that the forces were being shrunk and stripped whenever the politicians needed "easy" budget cuts, contributed paradoxically to esprit de corps for they retained their identity within their own beleaguered culture.

This was brought home to me, a couple of decades ago, when I insulted a Canadian officer, quite unintentionally. He was my seatmate on a long bus ride. I made some remarks about the sad condition of a reserve unit with which I was then familiar; about how, by slightly cutting derisory per diems and expenses (for reservists already reaching into their own pockets for the most basic gear), the government was gutting esprit de corps.

The officer bridled. And let me remember what he said: "Don't you doubt it. When we are called on, we will do our share of the damage."

It was a revealing remark because the officer was, by instinct, so closely identified with those reserves, that questions of "budget" passed right over his head. His loyalties went so much deeper than that.

We soon sorted out the misunderstanding - I took back the unintended insinuation that soldiers only work for money - and in the rest of the bus ride I learned a great deal more about the indifference and pettiness to which all the Canadian Forces had become accustomed.

In Afghanistan and elsewhere since, they have shown the old Canada is not yet dead.

Defeat had never been taught to our Canadian armed forces, and it is hard now to remember the shock of the 1968 "unification" scheme, as it was smugly announced by defence minister Paul Hellyer. Men and women so immensely proud of their uniforms and traditions were suddenly stripped of them all by Liberal politicians from Venus.

My grandfather, who had ascended Vimy Ridge with the Canadian Corps in 1917, wept at this "desecration." My father, a Spitfire fly boy in the war after - who had been, incidentally, a habitual Liberal voter - was speechless. He understood perfectly the need for better integration of land, sea, and air. He could not understand why this was being used as pretext to turn our military into "a faceless ant army of little green men." He was of course alluding to the new, nearly unisex uniforms in a "soviet" shade of green unsuitable to the army and ludicrous aboard a ship. (The Liberals soon backed off slightly, under intense political pressure, granting a shade of blue to the "Maritime Command" and other little compromises.)

Father and grandfather alike had reluctantly accepted Pearson's new red flag, noting its omission of any reference to the Crown, and generously assuming this to be an oversight, but the "unification" scheme made crystal clear the agenda behind all of Pearson's, and then Trudeau's, departmental "reforms" and "modernizations." They were quite intentionally, and systematically, replacing all of Canada's traditional symbols with new marketing graphics in the Liberal party colours and style.

They called this divisive makeover a "national unity" program, directing the taxpayers' cash into a host of indoctrination campaigns, that subtly vilified Canada's older identity. They purposefully stripped all monarchical and other historical associations from Canadian public life, replacing everything with this slick new "brand" and putting the flat, red, contentfree maple everywhere, even erasing the beavers. They raised a generation that would know nothing else but flat red maple.

Eventually, they stripped even the proud title "Dominion" from our country's name - by that point (1982) quite openly vilifying all who objected. And we, as Canadians, shamefully let them do it.

How I wish my father could still have been alive, to hear the wonderful news of this restoration, and so many other veterans who spent their last decades watching the bureaucratic takedown of their battle standards. How glad I am for the soldiers now serving, and especially for the sailors and airmen, who may rejoice.

For now all we need are some ships and airplanes.



David Warren is a columnist with the Ottawa Citizen.




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And sad news from the Calgary Stampede ranch

Legendary Calgary Stampede bucking bronc Papa Smurf dies

The Calgary Stampede has announced the death of one of its most storied horses.

Legendary bucking horse Papa Smurf passed away earlier this month at the age of 28.

Rod Hay, champion saddle bronc rider, said the chestnut gelding was an honest bucking horse who “tried his hardest every time he stepped out of the chute.”

“Papa Smurf had a special place in many cowboys’ hearts, including mine,” Hay said in a statement. “At the age of 28, he had a great career and a long, good life. He will be missed by many.”

The Stampede paid $375 to purchase the horse in 1986. It soon found success, winning the 1988 Canadian Finals Rodeo and ’89 Canadian saddle bronc titles.

Papa Smurf went on to take 74 first-place rides between 1988 and 2005, earning more than $460,000.

After retiring in 2005, Papa Smurf spent time on the Stampede ranch watching over the younger horses. Stampede officials say he was laid to rest in the pasture where he passed.


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