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Humanity on the Battlefield

2012-02-03T20:08:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

It's been a busy week, and I was at a loss for a suitable topic until I realized that this Sunday is the Super Bowl. Madonna, this year's half time spectacle (notice how I didn't bother to refer to her as an "act"), made an interesting comment on Anderson Cooper's talk show when she referred to the Super Bowl as "[the] holiest of holy in America." She's right about that. Even here in Canada, the world stops for this one big game. The same cannot be said of the CFL's Grey Cup; the only other event that comes close is the Stanley Cup finals.

As many of you know, I am a sports fan. There are times when I enjoy it, and there are times when I despise it utterly. Growing up in New York and having a plethora of teams to cheer for has made sports fandom interesting to say the least, including the unintentional - and admittedly often times intentional - act of picking and choosing your relationships based upon team allegiances. When you fall down the sports rabbit hole as a child like I did, you can't help but judge other people on the basis of which teams they root for. It's shameful, I know, but even in my 40s, I still find myself doing it. Much as I like to think I've become more accepting of the teams I loathe, the bottom line is, I will continue to loathe them as long as I am able to draw breath into my lungs.

A former friend of mine is a staunch New England Patriots fan. When the Giants beat the San Francisco 49ers two weeks ago to gain entry into this year's spectacle, I decided I would cheer for them; not because I am a Giants fan, but because I'd rather think of my former friend wallowing in the misery of a Patriots loss. It sounds cruel, I know, but that's how sports fans think. We know that the agony of defeat is exponentially more painful than the thrill of victory, especially when you only have one shot at it. Many people malign the playoff structure of other sports because there are multiple game "series" that must be won in order to be declared a champion. In football, you only get one shot. Squandering it is the most prolific misstep in professional sports; for the team on the losing side, there is no tomorrow.

I was planning to write something snarky about the spectacle the Super Bowl has become: the two week media frenzy surrounding the big game, the ridiculous commercials (which cost an obscene $3 million for 30 seconds this year), the half time extravaganza; everything over-the-top that has become synonymous with the game, except for the game itself. Then I realized, what could I possibly say that hasn't already been said? It is what it is, and much as I hate to admit it, Madonna is right: Americans revere the game as a religious ritual; it is part of what makes America the land of the free and the home of the brave. I just wish it didn't have to be so cheesy.

Last year, the conclusion of the Super Bowl was marred by a pending labour dispute. You know how I feel about millionaire professional athletes and their unions. I was hoping, as is my cynical way, that the NFL would give itself a black eye by tossing an entire season in the trash. Alas, they did not, and here we are 48 hours away from the big game. Not that it would have mattered in the long run; football fans are the most sheep-like in my opinion: as long as they're alive, there's an endless supply of wool to be shorn.

All cynicism aside, I did read one interesting article on the NFL's Web site. It turns out, the Patriots' and Giants' owners, Robert Kraft and John Mara, were integral to bringing about an end to the league's labour unrest. I did not follow the negotiations closely, so this was a revelation to me. The NFL, the major U.S. television networks, countless advertisers, team employees, etc., all had vested interests in making sure a deal was stuck and the season was played. What tore at my heartstrings was the following quote from Kraft about losing his wife to cancer in the process:

"The team saved me. I never understood what the word heartbroken meant. It's hard for anyone to relate to it. My wife was 19 and I was 20 when she proposed to me. We had five kids right away. Then they left and we became best pals for 25 years. She was 98 pounds, read four books a week and was healthy. I thought she would outlive me for 30 years. This horrible cancer came and it's wrecked my life. Having this team has been a savior for me."

Sometimes, you have to swallow your abject cynicism and shed a few tears for someone. I don't know Robert Kraft, and I still won't root for his team, but I found a human angle to the spectacle in his words. That more than makes up for all the cheese.

Have a great weekend, and Go Giants!

Underneath It All

2012-01-30T16:53:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Yes, that is Mario Lopez in his underwear. Why, you ask? Well...because. That's my answer and I'm sticking to it.

I originally intended for this post to be about underwear. I was perusing my favourite news source this morning (People.com) and came across a video of Mario dropping trou on the "Ellen" show. Of course he's promoting his line of men's underwear, "Rated M by Mario Lopez;" not that the guy is particularly shy to begin with. I can recall a vast number of occasions when I turned on the television and saw him in varying states of undress. If I were a guy and I had a body like that, I'd be showing it off, too. For me, it's a toss-up between him and David Beckham - I'd like to be the turkey breast in the middle of that sandwich. Maybe that should be a topic for another day.

Getting back to the underwear: Mario's "Rated M" line of skivvies is "For Manful Men and Their Very Special Guests." To that I must reply, come on! I'm not a girl who's ever been particularly impressed by a man's choice of undergarments, as long as they're clean and in good condition. I've never looked for a specific message on the waistband, and I sure as hell never want to see a pair of those smiley-faced Joe Boxer boxer shorts on a guy if he wants me to respect him in the morning. I prefer my underthings functional and basic. And just for the record, from a female perspective, that doesn't mean I'm into granny panties. If it's lacy and frilly, chances are it's uncomfortable and not worth the bother. Just so we're clear.

The more I thought about writing a post dedicated to underwear, the more I thought I would be wasting my time, literally and figuratively. What interests me more than "boxers or briefs" is what's underneath it all. What is underneath what we show to the world? Not so much the woman wearing the merry widow under her austere business attire, or the man with the cheeky boxers underneath his monkey suit; it became more about who we are underneath the facade we show the rest of the world. Maybe underwear does have something to do with it, and the fact that the pair I have on right now are red with little penguins all over them says something significant about me. If it does, you'll have to let me know. I don't indulge in that level of contemplation; at least not when it comes to undergarments.

How we adorn our bodies defines us as individuals. We all have a certain "style" and some of us take the concept of dressing much more seriously than others. I enjoy all that but I try not to take it too seriously. If I did, I'd be uncomfortable and bitchy as hell. You'll never find me teetering on a pair of six-inch platform stilettos, nor will I ever subject myself to wearing a pair of thong underwear. Thong sandals, on the other hand, are doable; as long as they're not flip flops. What I am interested in, however, is the person underneath it all - not the clothes, and certainly not the underwear. And even if those unfortunate smiley faced boxers were to make an appearance, I'd be willing to ignore them if the person underneath were possessed of a warm heart and a kind soul. I think that's what we're all hoping to find.

In the meantime, boxers or briefs? Despite my stance on underwear, the question still begs to be asked.

Nava

Random Winter Wednesday

2012-01-25T16:41:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

This was the view outside my window a few weeks ago. Granted, it has not been a particularly harsh winter so far, but there is still a long way to go. January is almost over, February manages to pass rather quickly, and March; ugh! March...I hate March!

Cutting to the chase, I don't have a specific topic worthy of devoting an entire post to, so here is another one of my mixed bags:

Cinema Blasé

The Oscar nominations were announced yesterday, and I have not been to see any of the nominated movies. So, that means I am totally devoid of any opinion about who or which movie should win which award. A sentimental favourite, however, is Meryl Streep for "The Iron Lady." Any actress willing to spend many hours deliberately transforming herself into the likeness of former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher is deserving of any award she can get her hands on.

Make That Coffee to Go

Another example of Canadians sorely needing to get a life is the hubbub surrounding the introduction of a new, larger size extra-large cup at Tim Hortons. Yesterday, the ubiquitous coffee chain rolled out its new 24-ounce extra-large cup and eliminated the small 8-ounce (I believe) size. Being a regular cross-border traveller, I've known for some time that U.S. Tim's locations have had the 24-ounce cup for a while. Indigenous Canadians are somewhat outraged. Not me; I prefer my coffee in a container significantly larger than a shot glass. That and my bladder is sturdy enough to allow me to hang on to all that liquid much longer than the average person.

What's Next? Blood and Urine?

Yesterday, Google announced the unveiling of new changes to its privacy practices that will allow it even more access to your information. What's more is that these practices will be in place across all the company's sites, including the Android smart phone operating system. The beauty part is, there is no opting-out of any of it. You're either in, or you're out in the cold. It's scary how far the Evil Empire will go to violate our right to privacy. What's even scarier is that we continue to allow it.

Good Luck, Gabby

I can't think of a more inspirational individual than former Arizona congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords. After making a miraculous recovery from the injuries she sustained when she was shot in the head last year, she is the most prolific example of a person who, when they put their mind to it, can overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. She resigned her congressional seat this week to focus on her continued recovery, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who can't wait to witness what this exceptional woman will do next.

Save a Piece for Me

Every once in a while you need to offer yourself up to someone or something else. I wrote about it recently as "A Leap of Faith." The journey continues...

Nava

The Friendship Tango

2012-01-23T10:52:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Friendship is a complicated topic I've ruminated on for most of my adult life. I'm of the mindset that to truly be a friend, and to have friends, is much more difficult than it appears. Friendship, like any relationship, requires work; if either party in the friendship drops the ball at any point, mayhem can ensue, transforming the friendship into a rivalry, or worse - turning the friends into enemies.

I always begin my blog entries with the salutation, "Greetings Friends" because I like the way it sounds. A friend, to me, is someone who will take the time to read what I write, regardless of whether they mention it to me or leave a comment. I'm not looking for validation; nor do I believe that all my readers are truly my friends. It's just something I like to do. We have reached the point where the word "friend" is bandied about irresponsibly; the real definition has been bastardized by things like MySpace and Facebook - places where we have "friends" but they might be people we barely know, or don't know at all. The term "acquaintance" has all but disappeared from use, leaving us to attempt to decipher who these people who call themselves our friends really are. That's a fairly new conundrum, which I won't even pretend to know how to address at this point. I'm one of those rare individuals who is willing to admit that I might prefer life before social media, even though I've met many lovely people through the medium.

A solid friendship between two people is something to cherish. The friendship can be between two men, two women, and a man and a woman. Personally, I don't discriminate. A friend is a friend regardless of skin colour, sex, gender, what have you. What makes friendships complicated is not "the sex part" as Billy Crystal attempts to explain to Meg Ryan in the clip I've chosen from When Harry Met Sally... Well, sex can complicate matters, but more often than not, friendships are torn asunder for many different reasons, with sex never entering into the equation. Women can be particularly adept when it comes to wrecking friendships; and as a woman, I've had it happen to me a few times. Specific reasons notwithstanding, I find it much more difficult to be friends with a woman than I do with a man. That's just me.

My best friend in the world is G., and we've known each other since kindergarten. She's been the one constant in my life for almost 40 years, and no matter what life throws at us, we will always be there for each other. But, she's my only female friend. I have other female "acquaintances;" none that I would categorize in the same way I do her. That's just the way it is. Men friends, however, have always been much easier to come by. I have a handful of those and the friendships have been very rewarding; and completely platonic. None of this "friends with benefits" crap or other juvenile terminology that's pervaded the vernacular since the advent of social media. Just friends - no muss, no fuss.

I might sound like a raving narcissist for making this statement, but here goes: I know how to be friends with a man. That's not something I've ever been able to explain, nor would I attempt to offer my advice in a workshop setting to women who would twist whatever wisdom I would offer into fodder for how to turn a platonic relationship into a romance. That's why we have Cosmopolitan. That's never been my M.O. A friend is a friend, sex and/or gender be damned. What we do have to keep in mind is that friendships sometimes evolve. When that happens, you have to work even harder to figure out where the relationship is going in order to guide it along the path it has chosen to travel on. That's not an easy task, but it can be accomplished. Again, the two parties involved have to collaborate in order to make it work. Maybe that's the reason why so many friendships and romantic relationships fail: the parties involved are not willing to invest the time and effort required to make them work. Our lives have become all about instant gratification, and most times, we have no idea what we're missing. On the other hand, we have to be realistic with ourselves and acknowledge when a particular friendship is perfect just the way it is.

None of this is easy, but nothing worth having ever is. I leave you with that to think about.

Nava

In Praise of Fried Cheesecake

2012-01-18T10:59:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

The entire North American continent is in the midst of an apoplectic fit over Paula Deen's announcement that she is a Type 2 diabetic. The woman who brought us fried cheesecake and hamburgers with glazed doughnut buns has the ailment brought on by eating a steady diet of such foods, but it took her three years to share that information with her fans and the world at large. She's currently making the talk show-rounds because not only is she a diagnosed diabetic, she's also the paid spokesperson for the pharmaceutical company Novo Nordisk. She claims she had to "figure things out in her head" before she went public with her diagnosis. My take is that she had to negotiate the contract equivalent of a metric ton of butter before it was worth her while to do so. I know that sounds cynical, so let me tell you why:

I've watched countless episodes of Paula Deen's Food Network shows. I've made exactly none of her recipes. For me, watching those shows was therapeutic in the sense that they settled my brain during a time when life was extremely stressful. Watching her flit about in her kitchen between her griddle and her deep-fryer was something that relaxed me. Sure, I wouldn't refuse a plateful of whatever it was she was dishing up, but to make those Southern culinary delights myself was not something I was willing to do. It was entertainment for me, pure and simple. I know, however, that for others, it is a lifestyle; one that can be harmful if taken too seriously.

Paula insists that she's no doctor, but not once did I ever hear her utter (or should that be "udder" in her case?) to her audience that her food is best consumed in moderation. She's claiming that's been her message all along, and she's in no way responsible for the North American diabetes epidemic. There are extenuating circumstances when it comes to that disease, absolutely; it runs in families and can strike even the fittest of people when they least expect it. The thing is, eating a steady diet of deep-fried foods and butter-laden dishes is the quickest way to acquire it short of chugging bottles of straight high-fructose corn syrup. The majority of cases don't just appear out of nowhere.

Unfortunately, our tendency as human beings is to blame others for our misfortunes. Instead of taking responsibility for our own actions, we like to scapegoat others for our shortcomings. Paula Deen has long been vilified for encouraging us to eat fat-laden, southern-style foods, even though she comes off as the doyenne of southern hospitality and folksy charm. She has been skewered (pun intended) by the likes of food snob Anthony Bourdain and others, who don't seem to get the entertainment value of her programs. Well, I get it. The thing that doesn't sit right with me is the fact that she waited until she had a deal in place to surface as the saviour of Type 2 diabetics the world over. I've always believed that anyone can sell anything if the price is right. Paula Deen is now just another in a long line of those kinds of people.

I once said I would gladly watch Paula Deen fry up a pair of old tennis shoes. I wouldn't eat them of course, but I would eat a slice of deep-fried cheesecake - once in a blue moon. What I won't do is accept her seemingly altruistic stance of wanting to help the diabetic masses. To be genuinely altruistic never involves a dollar figure. Batter that up and stick it in your deep-fryer, Paula.

Nava

Can We Talk?

2012-01-16T11:36:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Does anyone remember what life was like before the chat room, text message, tweet or social media Web site? You know, when people actually talked as opposed to sending typed messages out into the great electronic void, completely lacking tone, inflection, and, dare I say it: feeling?

I think it is apropos to be discussing this topic today of all days: the day set aside in celebration of the birth of iconic civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr. His "I Have a Dream" speech is one of the most passionate and prolific ever given; I don't think it would have had quite the same impact had it been delivered via Twitter or Facebook. We should be thankful that those modes of technology did not exist on August 28, 1963.

My point, as we celebrate what would have been Dr. King's 83rd birthday, is that human speech has become somewhat compromised in the almost 50 years since he gave that speech. We no longer converse with each other face-to-face as our parents and grandparents did. We've forsaken that mode of communication in favour of 140 characters or less in most cases, and the ambiguous nature of an e-mail, chat room or social media page. Yes, these have become vital modes of communication, but they are all lacking one important element: tone. All these methods are devoid of emotion and inflection, making it impossible during the majority of "conversations" to glean any emotion from the exchange. Sure, we have a plethora of silly "emoticons" that are meant to stand in for feelings, but they are hopelessly inadequate substitutions for the real deal. I use them because I have no choice, but there is absolutely no way a smiley face is going to express what I am actually feeling when I speak to someone.

The more the toneless modes of communication pervade my life, the more they piss me off. There are days when I literally do not speak to anyone; my communication takes place exclusively on Skype, Facebook and a couple other forms of voiceless messaging. Sure, most days I'm grateful for the fact that I can sit here in my pajamas typing a blog entry or performing my duties as a writer, as opposed to worrying about what to wear to work. But, on the flip side, I crave the sound of a human voice more than I ever have. I never thought I would say, er, type that, but it's true. I want to hear laughter, not read "LOL"; I want to hear the smile in a person's voice, not see :-) typed after a sentence. I want to feel the actual emotions, not interpret them with my sometimes overactive imagination. The real deal means more to me now than it ever has. And when I can't have it, I feel bereft; there will never be a substitute for the human voice.

Despite all my bitching, I have had no choice but to make peace with modern forms of communication; not that they make me happy, but who among us has a choice? I've made my share of gaffes in chat rooms and in messages on Skype and Facebook, but who hasn't? I may take mine a bit more to heart than others, but I know I am not alone in that. The best I can do is remember to insert that smiley face or whichever emoticon is appropriate, and move on. The other thing I do is repeat to myself, over and over, that there is no tone or emotion, and that's just the way it is. I'm all too aware of the irony that my laptop's keyboard will give out long before I wear down the battery of yet another cordless phone.

I leave you with this piece of advice: whatever you do, don't type angry.

Nava

"Don't think Meat, just throw."

2012-01-09T13:11:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I've always been a great proponent of thinking. Now, you might be thinking, of course she is; why wouldn't she be? Everyone thinks. Yes, most everyone literally does think, but there are times when we don't. Our actions depict our thoughts and sometimes, we do things without thinking. Then again, some of us are guilty of thinking too much. I place myself in that group. Again, a thought, or rather, a question, might be dancing around in your mind: what the hell does it mean to think too much?

I've supplied a snippet of video from my all-time favourite baseball movie, Bull Durham. It wasn't always my favourite baseball movie, but as I've gotten older, I've come to better understand the cerebral value of many of the messages in it. The one message that's hit home for me, especially in recent years, is, "Don't think Meat, just throw." That was the sage bit of advice Kevin Costner's "Crash Davis" character gave to Tim Robbins' "Nuke LaLoosh" when he was trying too hard to throw perfect pitches. Unfortunately, I could not find a snippet containing the exact line of dialogue, but the scene I chose depicts Nuke's refusal to listen to Crash by throwing the pitch he wants, rather than the one Crash asks for. Fans of the movie know what happens next; the rest of you can watch the clip and learn a valuable lesson.

Thinking too much is a difficult habit to break, especially for someone like myself who does nothing but think all day long. Thinking is a byproduct of writing, obviously, and if you don't think about what you are doing, you'll inevitably look at your screen and find nothing but gibberish staring back at you.

When you write for a living, it's very easy to think yourself into oblivion; and it's very hard to stop thinking, even when your assignments are completed. Once the wheels start turning, it's almost impossible to get them to stop. Instead of mulling over the work, you move on to mulling over the thoughts in your head. That's when the trouble begins - work is something you need to do - even writers need to differentiate the "need" to write. We write to earn a living, and we write because to not do so would be tantamount to not breathing.

Some people who are "over-thinkers" need to find ways to distract themselves. I am one of those who welcomes the distractions. My favourite distraction from thinking too much is writing. That might be a tad counterproductive, but it helps; and it's the writing I don't get paid for that gets me over the hurdle of letting my thoughts get the better of me. Music may soothe the savage beast, but for the writer who thinks too much, the appropriate solution is to write some more.

The Gods may not have blessed me with a "thunderbolt" for an arm, like they did Nuke LaLoosh, but I can understand how thinking too much could lead someone with that particular talent to lose control of a hundred- mile-an-hour fastball. There are times when excess thoughts on a page can be just as destructive.

My advice to others who tend to think too much is to repeat Crash Davis' mantra of "Don't think Meat, just throw." The beauty of the Church of Baseball is that it provides practical advice for many of life's stickier situations. If you don't believe me, it's time to watch Bull Durham immediately if not sooner.

Nava

If Loving You is Wrong, I Don't Want to Be Right

2012-01-06T13:02:00.002-05:00

Greetings Friends,

What you're looking at are bacon doughnuts from an establishment called Cafe Dulce in Los Angeles. Any moderately health conscious individual will most likely get a good chuckle out of this sort of culinary indulgence and would be game enough to try one. Assorted warriors for good health which might include vegans, members of PETA and organic food enthusiasts would run swiftly in the opposite direction and call the local health department to protest the amalgamation of doughnut, glaze and bacon. Me? I say bring them on. I posted the above image on the page of a Facebook friend of mine with the suggestion that we split the tray. All this thanks to another Facebook friend who posted it on his page and started the ball rolling.

Bacon is one of those foods that, admittedly, is not good for you, and as such, is loved and revered by millions. Of course, there are those pesky cultural and religious dietary restrictions that prohibit some from ingesting anything that comes from the divine swine, so if you're in one of those camps, you might want to come back next week. If not, I want to talk a little bit about why it is we love bacon so much, in spite of it being a practically verboten food item.

A quick Google of "bacon" yields three possibilities: information about the artist Francis Bacon, actor Kevin Bacon, and countless web sites devoted to the love of this localized section of the pig. One in particular that caught my attention is Bacon Today for two reasons. One, it is cogent, well-written, comprehensive and informative. Two, it is somewhat optimized and appeared third on the first page of my Google query (shameless plug for my occupation!). Plus, you have to love a site that gives a shout-out to another of its brethren that sells Swine Swag to the masses. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Seriously folks, bacon just tastes good and lends flavour to just about anything you pair it with. Yes, even donuts and, gasp! chocolate. Anyone who's had a Vosges Mo's Bacon Bar knows what I'm talking about. If you're a salty/sweet person like I am, you're willing to try just about anything that combines sweet and savoury. Mind you, that can get a tad freaky - I happen to love putting tuna fish on cinnamon raisin bagels. That might make some of you squeamish, but my feeling is, don't knock it 'til you've tried it.

Ultimately, this isn't about a pedestrian plate of bacon and eggs, or even the British/Canadian love of peameal, or back bacon, on a bun. This is about expanding your horizons and finding new things to enjoy. Life is too short to endure the same old, same old, and so long as you find reasonable ways to add some fun to your diet, there's nothing wrong with the occasional bacon donut or chocolate bar. Or bacon cheeseburger; or bacon on just about anything. Since we're so hung up on universality and pleasing the masses, maybe bacon is indeed the world's most perfect food. I leave it up to you to decide.

Come back next week when I'll be waxing rhapsodic about macaroni and cheese.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Nava

A Leap of Faith

2012-01-04T21:46:00.003-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I know; it's been forever (6 months, actually), and I've returned from hiatus to wish you all a Happy New Year.

Much has happened during the time I've been absent from this space, and there's no need to bore you with the details. Work has been status quo, but there have been some things going on that have taken me down roads I didn't foresee myself travelling on at this particular point in time. I'm still sans wheels, but these metaphorical travels of mine have been an interesting journey nevertheless. Sometimes, those are the best kind to take; you don't necessarily have to get on a plane or behind the wheel of a car to go somewhere that inspires you, particularly if that journey involves a leap of faith.

What is a leap of faith exactly? There are many definitions in the zeitgeist, but they don't particularly interest me. I'm more interested in what it means to me personally. I've taken many leaps of faith over the course of my life - the most recent ones were relocating here to Toronto and starting my own business. Those were leaps I was glad to take, and even though the going has been rough at times, I consider them successful. The chain of events they triggered has brought me to a new precipice, where I am currently standing poised to take yet another leap. This one, however, is a bit different. It doesn't involve a relocation or a business deal, it involves something riskier and closer to a life-giving force that is strong but infinitely fragile. It performs a necessary task that keeps each one of us going day after day, but if you allow certain things to get too close to it, it will shatter into a million pieces. You can give it to someone or even something, but you have to be sure you know what you're doing before you blindly hand it over. That's the tough part; entrusting it to another entity leaves you vulnerable, and scared.

The tricky thing about this latest leap of faith is that I'm not certain if the life-giving force is strong enough to handle so much as a hairline crack. It's been shattered and still not in a place I would consider strong. As a matter of fact, it's looking and feeling a bit like a beat-up pair of sneakers or that old clunker that still gets you from point A to point B with relatively little trouble. But, in the back of your mind you're constantly wondering when it will breathe its last breath and leave you stranded somewhere. When that happens, no amount of mechanical genius or duct tape will save it; you'll have to leave it on the side of the road and move on. Unfortunately, you can't do that with what I'm talking about, so you have to stare into that precipice and decide if the leap is worth taking.

At this very moment, I'm pretty confident the leap I am contemplating will be worth it. You can never be one hundred percent certain, but let's just say I am more than halfway there. And the journey has just begun.

Nava

People Don't Understand the Pressure on Me to Eat Perogies

2011-07-27T12:30:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

First, let me say that I do not begrudge Kim Kardashian her looks. I am all too aware that how we look is based on genetics. If I hadn't been born into my particular family, I wouldn't look the way I do. But, there's no going back on that; I'm stuck with myself for however much longer I'll live. Since I don't have a crystal ball, that could be many more years of looking the way I do.

The problem I have with Ms. Kardashian is that she is one of those individuals who is famous for just being herself. She hasn't made a contribution to society (other than raising the bar on T&A) that warrants the fame she has, but alas, we all know her, and her family. Yes, I've occasionally watched her unabashedly scripted exploits on her "reality" show, and up until now, I really had nothing to complain about.

I happened to spot a snippet on my favourite "news" source, People.com, that K.K. has psoriasis. The tag line for the story, describing it as an "incurable skin condition", made it sound like she's a closet leper.

The video clip from "Keeping Up With the Kardashians" that accompanies the story includes Kim's proclamation of, "People don't understand the pressure on me to look perfect." I only had to read that once for it to make my head explode.

We all deal with pressure in our lives; sometimes that pressure can manifest itself in a physical ailment like psoriasis, or something exponentially worse, like a heart attack, stroke or cancer. Yes, unattractive skin conditions can be part of the bargain: eczema, psoriasis, acne, alopecia, hives. My personal favourite is when stress affects your intestines, leaving you emotionally freaked out and chained to the toilet. I'm sure people in that unfortunate situation would not complain if their only problem was a few patches of itchy dry skin.

People deal with stress in different ways. Some of us crawl under the covers and hide; some of us turn to medication; some of us do our best to swallow that stress by engaging in various forms of potentially destructive behaviour such as drug abuse. Some of us eat. HELLO - that would be me.

I recently discovered these delectable perogies in my grocer's freezer that I am unabashedly addicted to. They come in a giant 2 kg bag in four scrumptious flavours: cheddar cheese, cottage cheese and potato, potato and onion, and potato, bacon and Parmesan (my personal favourite). I don't do anything fancy with them; just a quick boil and a dunk in sour cream is enough for me. I haven't yet seen a doctor for this ailment, but I have a feeling that if I continue my constant perogy bingeing, I might end up with a serious medical condition. The carbohydrate overload I am subjecting myself to might turn me into a perogy-woman; and with my family's cess, er, gene pool, that could quite easily transform me into a diabetic.

The problem is, people don't understand the pressure on me to eat perogies. They're cheap, filling and delicious. Then again, so is chocolate ice cream and pizza. I have an addiction to junk food and it may end up killing me one day. My stressful life has never brought about an "incurable skin condition", and if it did, I don't think I'd be so willing to share it with everyone. I find myself wondering if Ms. Kardashian would be eager to share her plight if her problem were chronic yeast infections. Although, I did happen to catch a promo on E! for an upcoming episode of "Keeping Up with the Kardashians" where mother Kris Jenner is outed for "peeing on herself". Can't wait for that one.

Reality TV has done such a stellar job of exploiting our foibles that many of them cannot be taken seriously anymore. When I watch shows like "Hoarders" and "Intervention", I see how truly destructive people can be. But these are "normal" people, not ridiculously wealthy detached-from-reality attention whores who are lucky enough to know Ryan Seacrest. Kim Kardashian is not in danger of losing her life or her home because of a little dry skin. Her delusions and a convenient script lead a segment of the population to believe that a case of psoriasis is capable of jeopardizing her life. I don't have enough time to explain what is so wrong with that. In fact, I'm going to take a leap of faith and assume my readers will understand.

Right now, I am content to go on eating perogies, family history be damned. Do you care? I didn't think so.

Nava

T-Minus One Week

2011-07-25T19:28:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

You can fry an egg on the sidewalk here in T.O. and hockey is about the furthest thing from everyone's minds (I'd personally kill for a patch of ice to lie down on, but that's just me). The most important hockey event of the summer will not be taking place here in Canada, but in Nassau County New York next Monday, where residents will be voting "yes" or "no" on a referendum that will either send the Islanders packing, or allow Nassau County to build them a new arena using tax dollars.

The New York Islanders have been the most maligned hockey team in the NHL for over two decades. The on-ice product has been horrific; the ownership situation so putrid that all anyone can really do these days is laugh.They have been the laughingstock franchise for a generation of players who would rather wait tables than sign a contract to play there. And this team once hoisted the Stanley Cup for four consecutive seasons back in the early 80s. Despite all this they are still beloved by their fans, but patience has worn thin over the years and many die-hards have all but given up. Myself included.

I spent 17 years as a resident of Nassau County. I was a homeowner and a tax payer and Democrat in what has to be the reddest Republican bastion this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. The Republican machine has long had a stranglehold on Nassau County politics, and they've played a big role in the Islanders' fate over the years. Now, it's finally come down to the wire, where residents will get to decide whether they can handle an annual $13 tax increase to build the team a new arena. Thirteen dollars...You can't even feed your family at McDonalds for thirteen dollars anymore.

Before I was a homeowner and a taxpayer and even a Democrat, I was an Islanders fan. This goes back to childhood. When a sports team gets you when you're young and impressionable, they get you for life. Much as I'd like to flip a switch and say, screw it, I don't give a crap anymore, I can't. I care about what happens to this team and what's going to happen next Monday with that stupid referendum. I call it "stupid" because it could have been avoided if not for all the controlling, narcissistic egos in the middle of this mess, collectively thinking that they're going to show each other who's boss. It's all boiled down to political posturing and a game of "chicken" that will end next Monday with either a future shovel in the ground, or the closing of the book on an era of hockey on Long Island. Yes, the parades and victorious seasons are a distant memory, but there was always something about that team that held my heart, no matter how stupid things got. The frustration and thousands of dollars spent on season tickets eventually got the better of me, but for a good many years, the Coliseum was my home away from home. I watched a lot of hockey there, saw many memorable concerts, and even worked my way towards a graduate degree next-door at Hofstra University while the Islanders were pretending to be a competitive team.

Even though I no longer live in Nassau County, I have to admit it would kill me to see the team leave. I've joked with friends recently that I hope the team winds up in Quebec City, but I don't mean it. Their place is right where it's always been - on Hempstead Turnpike. I could easily make peace with watching them play in a new building; the Nassau Coliseum has seen better days. But I think watching them become the newest incarnation of the Quebec Nordiques would give me a permanent case of heartburn. It's different than the Atlanta-Calgary Flames/ Thrashers/Winnipeg Jets situation; two hockey teams failed in the city of Atlanta; the Islanders knew tremendous success, but still managed to bungle so much. If you never learn from your mistakes, you deserve what you get. I believe that wholeheartedly, but I still don't want to see the team leave.

If I was still a resident of Nassau County, I'd vote "yes". Not because it would kill me to see the team leave, but because it would be the only "fuck you" I could muster against the Republican Machine. Their unyielding, unbending attitude (sound familiar?) is going to be their undoing. And when the dust settles, they're going to be the only ones left standing in the middle of a dust bowl that used to be a vibrant, thriving community. I left; so did many other people. And it wasn't because of my frustration over a hockey team. The middle class way of life World War II veterans built for themselves in places like Levittown, East Meadow, Massapequa and other enclaves no longer exists. Many people have been priced out of them by soaring property taxes and even more ridiculous home prices. The sad fact is, there is no such thing as a "middle class" anymore, especially not in Nassau County New York. And, I fear, not anywhere else in the United States.

The Islanders situation is just a symptom of what's really wrong with life in America right now. And regardless of whether you vote "yes" or "no", there isn't much anyone can do to fix it.

Nava

Hacking Extraordinaire

2011-07-13T18:29:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

I must admit I've been waiting decades for a scandal of the magnitude of the News of the World phone hacking debacle to befall Rupert Murdoch. I've found that man distasteful since long before Fox News ever came onto the scene, and for very specific reasons.

Back in the late 80s, I went to work for a family owned publishing company; one of two U.S. concerns that placed coupon inserts in the Sunday papers. I was young, impressionable and extremely eager to make a living. I spent my days toiling as a secretary/billing clerk in the area of the office I designated as the "pound". It was funny how all the ethnic employees were relegated to the accounting/finance department while all the sales people looked for all the world like they were carved out of WASPY Connecticut cream cheese. You guessed it: blonde hair, blue eyes and preppier than the models in a J Crew catalog.

About a year or so into my tenure at this company, we were told that the owners were selling to Rupert Murdoch. He was buying us, along with the freestanding insert, or FSI (that was what the coupons were known as back then) division of the other American company. I later learned that the third player in the world of FSIs was an Australian competitor of Murdoch's, so it was only natural that he'd want to snap up two-thirds of the coupon realm in order to squash this guy. I even met Murdoch, one night after hours in our hip little Chelsea office (back when Chelsea was rather downtrodden); I shook his hand briefly and was on my way.

After Murdoch's takeover, we were merged with the FSI division of the other company and moved uptown to much swankier digs in Rockefeller Center, 3 blocks north of where the Fox News headquarters is today. It was a glorious time, and we were all very excited at the opportunities were were presented with as part of Murdoch's News America empire - consisting back then of Twentieth Century Fox studios, The New York Post, the fledgling Fox Network and a whack of glossy magazines that included New York, Mirabella and about a dozen or so others. People I'd worked with began jumping ship to more glamorous jobs at these magazines, and when we would go out for beers at some of the area bars after work, it was fascinating to hear what days were like working at hip, fast-paced publications. And then the walls fell...

About 6 or 8 months after we were ensconced in our hoity toity new digs, we got word that Murdoch's SkyTV venture in the U.K. (yes, he was the original majority owner) was about to go belly-up. The Brits weren't too keen on satellite television back in those days, and the venture was hemorrhaging money in a big way. Before we knew what hit us, there were massive layoffs, and Murdoch jettisoned all his New York-based publications, save for the Post. Many people I knew were out of jobs and devastated, wishing that they never left the relative safety of the FSI division.

Before I finally left in 1992, things got pretty ugly. The accounting "mutts" were treated even more crappy than before; we didn't get raises or much of anything other than work. It became a toxic environment and a very obvious way-station for the Ivy League educated to springboard into the world of media and advertising. No one was willing to teach a "mutt" anything. The writing was on the wall.

After my departure from the News America FSI division, I kept following Murdoch with an insatiable need to watch him fail. Of course, Fox News and its "fair and balanced" bullshit has been under my skin since day one. After Princess Diana died in 1997, I hoped against hope that the British and European tabloid press would wise up and become somewhat respectable. Total respectability was too much to ask, but reigning in the gutter sniping would have been a jolly good idea at the time. Oh well...

When news of the phone-hacking scandal broke, I was simultaneously mortified, disgusted and amused. Mortified for the individuals who had their privacy violated; disgusted by the emerging details of political and legal corruption; amused by the fact that Rupert Murdoch and his tabloid empire were finally getting the comeuppance they deserve. By the way, Back in 1976 when Murdoch purchased the New York Post, he had to become an American citizen. Back then, foreign ownership of U.S. media outlets was not allowed. The abandoning of that edict seems to have created quite the shit storm, hasn't it?

As I watch this story unfold, I keep thinking about my short tenure as a News America employee and how smarmy it now feels to have worked there. I am even contemplating removing the information from my resume, thinking that it will somehow reflect negatively on me, given the current brouhaha in the U.K. I haven't yet decided what to do. I'm waiting to see what will happen to the man who gave voices to Bill O' Reilly, Glenn Beck, Chris Wallace and the rest of the orangutans over at Fox News. In my opinion, he deserves to live out his days bereft of his empire, stripped of the privacy he denied many in order sell newspapers. It's barely fitting, but it's all I can think of right now.

Those who think they can rule the world by controlling others are one of the lowest forms of humanity. They deserve to be in the gutter, with all those shameful, disgusting tabloid newspapers.

Celebrate!

2011-07-01T15:24:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

It's Canada Day today here in the Great White North and Monday is Independence Day in the U.S. I hope you've all got some serious celebrating planned as we enjoy yet another year of freedom. I'm not being facetious - I mean that sincerely.

Go out and do whatever it is you love to do to celebrate your status as an American or a Canadian. If you're both, like me, you get to double-dip. Beer, hot dogs, apple pie, beaver tails and poutine abound. By Sunday night I'll probably be sorrier than a 16 year-old at his first kegger.

Enjoy your celebrations, and please be careful with the fireworks. Remember to light a sparkler for Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin. OK, so I couldn't resist one tiny bit of snark.

God Save the Queen and God Bless the United States of America.

Have a glorious weekend.

Nava

I'm Smaaaaaaht!

2011-06-29T15:00:00.001-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Yesterday, Michele Bachmann, Congresswoman from Minnesota, announced her candidacy for President. Before I go any further, this isn't going to be a "Let's see Michele Bachmann square off against Sarah Palin in a mud pit with some canned corn thrown in for some extra fun" type of post. No, I want to be dignified. At least for a couple of paragraphs.

When I heard that Ms. Bachmann formed the Tea Party Caucus within Congress, it immediately became impossible for me to take her seriously. It seems the grandest of all oxymorons to be anti-government yet make your living as a politician. That does not jive with the values of old-school Republicans. These Tea Party jokers are an aberration that are in the middle of their 15 minutes, and will hopefully go the way of Joe McCarthy and his followers.

I didn't really know who Ms. Bachmann was, other than the fact that she's fond of spewing extremist right-wing rhetoric while simultaneously manipulating the truth to suit her purposes. What I found out yesterday is that this is a woman with a post-doctoral degree in tax law who was a successful tax attorney before switching to politics. I was surprised to learn this. I have a bad habit of automatically assuming that everyone with an advanced education is smart. My bad. My really, really, REALLY bad.

Even though Ms. Bachmann has some impressive academic credentials, this doesn't mean she's smart. She has little knowledge of American history, and a blind spot when it comes to fact checking herself. Maybe she was so busy telling childish little white lies to her 5 biological children and 23 foster children that she forgot how to speak to adults. Or maybe, she's another one of those self-centred narcissists I'm so fond of, who tend to cut and paste the truth for their own self-serving purposes. I'm aware you have to have an outsize ego to want to run for president, but there's a difference between having the confidence to do the job and being delusional. And this is where she begins to resemble Sarah Palin.

Both Bachmann and Palin are nothing more than two "Look at Me!" people. They're like those sparklers I used to be so fond of on the Fourth of July: they crackle and light up the night with their pretty colours for a scant few minutes and then peter out to nothing. You light a few more, but then you eventually get tired of them and move on to something else. Palin insists on hanging on to the dregs of her notoriety, and I'm certain she's pea-green with envy over Bachmann's current momentum. Much as I don't want to make this into the sort of cat fight I mentioned at the beginning of this post (sans the mud and canned corn), that's exactly what it will turn into if Palin decides to throw her hat into the Presidential ring. No one, with the exception of the populations of Iowa and New Hampshire, is going to benefit by that. It's political theatre; nothing more.

Which brings me back to smarts. Fredo Corleone is the perfect analogy because he really wasn't smart. There's a type of smart that has nothing to do with education; it has to do with knowing who you are and where you come from. You can have a wall full of framed diplomas, but they don't mean shit if you're not a genuine person. Having common sense and being able to discern right from wrong is more valuable than a Masters degree, or even a postdoc in tax law. Being good with numbers is a valuable skill; knowing how to write is a valuable skill. But, these skills don't define who you are as a person. A sense of entitlement doesn't get you far in life.

Being genuinely smart often has nothing to do with where you went to school or what you studied. To be truly smart is an elusive quality. On paper, education can be quite impressive, but when the chips are down, it's often the buffoons of the world who teach us the most valuable lessons. I've been schooled by a few of them, so I know of what I speak.

Iowa and New Hampshire need to wise up.

Nava

Friday Meanderings

2011-06-24T15:18:00.001-04:00

Greetings Friends,

To make up for the fact that I haven't been posting much lately, I've decided to tackle a few topics that have been meandering through my mind; like the image of the Rio Cauto in Cuba. Cigar anyone?

Aversion to Air Conditioning

Contrary to what some of you might be thinking, it can get pretty darn hot up here in the Great White North; not to mention humid. It's fixin' to be a scorcher of a summer here in T.O. and I find myself wondering how and/or why some Canadians manage to ignore the heat. On a particularly hot day a couple of weeks ago, I saw a woman in the subway station in the middle of the day still wearing her winter jacket. Mind you, I know mornings can be chilly, but a winter jacket (a ski jacket no less) in June? And why do some people just flat-out hate air conditioning? I've been told that's a European sensibility, but I'm sorry; this Eastern European cannot live without it. Some of my neighbours can't even be bothered to open their windows as the mercury makes its seasonal climb. What's with that? Crank up the A/C s'il vous plait - my preferred summer temperature is "meat locker".

Farewell Big Man

Last Saturday, the music world lost a giant. Clarence Clemons, sax player in Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band passed away at 69 from complications after suffering a stroke. He was literally a giant, standing 6'4", and wailing on his saxophone with such soul, it was a thing of beauty. I must admit that I've never been the hugest of Springsteen fans, but I did always appreciate his music. My level of fandom did increase after seeing Bruce and the E-Streeters live, twice; once at Madison Square Garden and once at the Meadowlands arena in their home state of New Jersey. I've seen many concerts in my day, and I can honestly say I haven't been blown away by too many of them. Those two were up there with some of the best I've seen. R.I.P. Big Man; the band in heaven just got even better.

The Cult of Righteousness

I have nothing against freedom of religion. Worship whatever and whomever you'd like, but please don't be a hypocrite. What's good for the goose must be good for the gander, even when it's inconvenient. Faith should never be used as a shield, and individuals should never be so self-righteous that they feel the need to espouse peace, love and harmony when not ascribing to those virtues themselves. People are not perfect; neither is faith. Imperfect people choose to practice imperfect faiths, yet they want the world to believe they, along with their faiths, are perfect. Sorry, not buying it. Never did; never will.

From Atlanta to Winnipeg (with a stop in Vancouver)

I didn't pay much attention to hockey this past season, but I must admit I am thrilled to see an NHL team return to the city of Winnipeg. The former Atlanta Thrashers will once again be the Winnipeg Jets (according to what I've been reading at the time of this writing). It was a mistake to put another team in Atlanta, after the original Flames team scurried off to Calgary 30 years ago. Once should have been enough for the Nebbishy Little Hobbit from Queens, but apparently not. There are a few more American teams I'd like to see return to Canada. I won't name names at this point, but I will say that the Canadian economy is in a much better place than the American economy right now. And, we do love our hockey, even though there are those who would attempt to destroy a city in spite of it. There's a difference between loving something and being an asshole. Unfortunately, it's always the assholes who manage to screw it up for everyone. And I'm not just talking about hockey "fans".

BlackBerry Rehab

Word came last week that the company responsible for the "CrackBerry", Research in Motion (RIM), is faltering in a big way. Profits are way down and sales of the once popular device are waning. Could it be that we've moved on to new smart phone drugs? I've certainly seen many more iPhones in my travels lately than BlackBerrys. Experts opine that the powers that be rested too long on their laurels and let technology pass them by. Anyone remember Betamax tapes?

Have a glorious weekend.

Nava

Postest with the Mostest

2011-06-22T18:49:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

The title of today's post doesn't make much sense, just like the fact that Canada Post has been on strike/locked out for the past 2 weeks.

I'm pretty ambivalent when it comes to unionized labour; I've never had any experience or exposure to it in my life. My dad owned his own business and I've spent the majority of my working career under the thumbs of corporate ne'er do wells who may as well have been dictators. I've never held a union job, nor do I ever intend to. But that doesn't mean I feel there is no place in society for unions. In most cases, anyway.

You can always count on Canadians for a good labour disruption every so often. Two years ago, sanitation workers here in Toronto went on strike and there was garbage everywhere for weeks. Coincidentally, the strike happened during the summer, the worst time of year for allowing garbage to wallow in its own stink.

Now, we've got Canada Post workers locked out of their jobs, with no mail getting through save for government benefit cheques. As I write this, Parliament is attempting to legislate the union back to work since there is absolutely no movement at the bargaining table. Here is the first test for the Conservative majority government: they're supposed to go on summer break as of Friday, but they have stated they would remain sitting until the strike is settled. The NDP (the official opposition party) is insisting that Canada Post workers not be forced to return to their jobs because they would be denied most of what they are asking for.

Here's the problem: I agree with both sides. I think the Conservative government has every right to legislate postal employees back to work, but I also think that the two sides need to sit down and knock their heads together until they can reach an agreement they can live with. Much as we have gotten used to electronic communication, postal services are still vital to the economy, and this disruption has been a pretty big pain in the ass. I happened to be waiting for a parcel from the U.S. that earlier today finally landed in my hands via courier service from Montreal. Don't ask...

I don't really know enough about unions to keep sitting on my soapbox about the pros and cons of their existence. What I do know is that neither side comes out a winner in any type of labour dispute. Just ask Jimmy Hoffa.

What I also know is that protection for the working man is a good idea, but some unions take that too far. Professional athletes have no business being unionized - hence the current NFL labour dispute that involves protracted bickering over billions of dollars. That should not be allowed. If postal workers want to fight for higher wages, improved safety protocols and other benefits, more power to them. Millionaire athletes should not be afforded the same ability. If a mail carrier were to be paid by the number of letters and parcels he or she delivers, I'm sure they'd be richer than Alex Rodriguez. But that's not how it works.

In the meantime, unions aren't going anywhere, and both sides of the table will never be at peace with each other. It's all part of the theatre we know as democracy. Or is it?

Nava

Private Parts

2011-06-13T17:01:00.001-04:00

Greetings Friends,

What hasn't been said about Anthony Weiner and his inappropriate texting over the past couple of weeks? I've said plenty, just not here. Honestly, he's just another repressed politico who felt the need to take to the Great Electronic Void to show off his, um...assets. But, really, who cares?

The thing that fascinates me more than the incessant need to share with the world one's "thing", is the reason why. Here we've got a six-term Congressman who seemed to be on the fast-track to becoming mayor of New York City (a job that is both a blessing and a curse in my opinion), who has instead become the latest late-night TV talk show punch line. He's married to a big-time Beltway insider (Hillary Clinton's top aide) and was, up until a few short weeks ago, a relatively innocuous politician.

Could that be the reason why Representative Weiner chose to expose his wiener to his faithful followers on Twitter? Was life just too gosh-darn boring that he needed to spice it up a bit? Then, he has to lie about it by claiming that his Twitter account was hacked. Right now, "Weiner-gate" has been paused since he has entered "treatment" to supposedly help him become a better person, as well as a better husband. There have been numerous calls for him to resign his seat, but as of now, he is on leave. Kind of like Gabrielle Giffords, except she didn't ask to get shot in the head by a lunatic. Anthony Weiner, like so many people, is the architect of his own misery.

There are interesting parallels in this story that are worth delving into. Weiner's wife, Huma Abedin, has been an aide to Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton since 1996. She was by Clinton's side during her own version of "Weiner-gate", although it must be said that Twittering photos of your junk is a far cry from getting blow jobs in the Oval Office. Of course, cell phone cameras did not exist back in Clinton's days in office, but had they, God only knows how much worse that scandal would have gotten.

Clinton is mother to Chelsea, who was a teenager during that ordeal, and Abedin is purportedly pregnant with her's and Weiner's first child. I can only imagine how stressful this must be for Ms. Abedin, even though Weiner technically (as far as we know) has not committed any actual adulterous acts. He hasn't pulled an Eliot Spitzer, but should what he's done be deemed any better or worse because there was no actual sex involved? Does this fall under the looking-at-porn-on-the-Internet infraction so many men are guilty of, or is this something altogether different?

I think it is safe to day that the combination of smart phones, technology and the Internet is pretty combustible. It takes an idiot not to realize that a single Tweet or Facebook posting can haunt you forever. many people got into some pretty sticky situations when MySpace was at its height of popularity, but Social Media has transcended that medium and become something all of us have the ability to screw ourselves on; literally and figuratively. In the wrong hands, or should I say, in the hands of someone with questionable risk assessment capabilities, social media could bring about personal Armageddon.

Here's how I see it: Nothing in the world is totally private anymore. If you've got a modem and a smart phone in your possession, you have weapons of mass destruction. In this case, the destruction is personal. It can also be epic, but it depends on how far-reaching your destructive tendencies are.

In Anthony Weiner's case, I believe he'll probably have to give up his congressional seat, but I don't think that will mean complete annihilation of his political career. New Yorkers are a pretty forgiving bunch, and he might still be successful if he tries to run for mayor. As for his personal life, I can't help but wonder what sort of advice Huma Abedin is getting from Hillary Clinton right now. There are millions of women out there who have suffered humiliation at the hands of their indiscreet spouses, but how many of them have had to deal with it under intense media scrutiny? Maybe there is some DC insider scorned wives support group that secretly meets in an underground bunker.

And why is it that we've never caught Sarah Palin having a nip slip? She can babble on and drive us all insane with misquotations and misinformation, but there's no getting rid of her. Yet, Anthony Weiner had to "seek treatment".

The world is definitely off its axis. There is no justice and karma to speak of; and I'm not only referring to the politicians.

For Dana Brand

2011-05-30T13:53:00.007-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Since it is Memorial Day today in the U.S., I felt it only fitting to write a tribute to Dana Brand.

Dana was a professor of English at my alma mater, Hofstra University. That was his day job. For many people, Dana was the dean of the New York Mets blogosphere, presiding over a world in which Mets fans gather to celebrate the highs and lows of being Mets fans; to commiserate over the team's foibles and missteps, and to savour its successes. But, it became so much more than that. Dana himself blogged regularly about the Mets, in a way that wove the fabric of baseball into our lives and taught us that it wasn't just about wins, losses and championships. Baseball is life, and life is baseball.

Dana passed away suddenly last Wednesday, at the age of 56, leaving behind a wife and a daughter, and legions of shocked and grieving friends. There have been many tributes written over the past few days by Mets bloggers, celebrating his life as a teacher, a Mets fan, and the author of two wonderful books, Mets Fan, and The Last Days of Shea: Delight and Despair In the Life of a Mets Fan. I consider myself a die-hard Mets fan, but I've existed on the periphery of the Mets' online community, save for avidly following Dana's blog - a link to which has been here at Ink & Paint since its inception.

Dana was my teacher before he was a Mets fan. I met him during the spring 2000 semester at Hofstra, my second semester back in academia after a long absence. My goal was to finish my Bachelors degree, if for no other reason than to assuage my guilt for entering the workforce in 1987 with only an Associates degree in Broadcast Management and Technology. I didn't get a job in my chosen field, and for 12 years I toiled at jobs that were not at all rewarding. After being unceremoniously canned from the last of those jobs in January, 1999, I decided the only way I would ever feel good about myself again would be to return to school and complete my education. My rationale was to become as educated as possible, in order to avoid emulating the corporate hacks I had come to detest. Many close friends and family members did not approve of my decision to become a professional student. I had my doubts as well, after my first rocky semester. That all changed after I met Dana.

The first time I met him, I knew he was different from any teacher I'd had during my life. My time spent in the New York City public school system was not what I would call "inspirational", and I left it without any one particular teacher having had an impact on me. Dana, on the other hand, had an impact on his students as soon as he walked into the room. He was a big man, over six feet tall, with a full beard and bushy, unkempt hair. He looked like an English teacher, and despite his size, he was not imposing; you immediately sensed that this big teddy bear of a man had many meaningful things to say.

During the first meeting of the first class of his I took (a survey course of American literature from 1900-1950), he handed out his syllabus and outlined what he expected of his students. It was all very straightforward, and I was looking forward to delving into the material. Before he dismissed us, he asked if any of us were baseball fans. A number of us raised our hands, myself included. He asked which teams we were fans of, and most of the class answered either "Mets" or "Yankees". I believe there was a smattering of out-of-town students who may have had other team allegiances, but I could see a dark look form on Dana's face and I couldn't understand why. Then he told us he was a Mets fan. For a moment, I felt certain he was going to ask anyone who was a Yankees fan to drop the class. He didn't of course, but you could tell right off the bat (pun intended) that he was serious about the Mets, and serious about baseball. I made a note to keep that in mind.

That spring semester was another difficult one for me, as well as for Dana. He lost his father during that time, and missed a number of classes. At the end of the semester, I had enjoyed his class so much that I knew I wanted to continue on with my plan to complete my degree. In fact, I was so inspired by Dana as a teacher, I did not leave Hofstra until December, 2007, with a Masters degree in English literature. And it was all because of Dr. Dana Brand.

Over the years, I managed to take seven or eight of Dana's classes. During that period, his love of literature and baseball became evident to me, and the more I got to know him, the more I began to appreciate the role of baseball in his life. I wasn't completely enlightened until I spotted the "Last Word" column he wrote that appeared in Newsday in August, 2005. I found it hanging in the English department mail room one day when I went to drop off a paper. "If You Prick a Mets Fan, He'll Bleed Blue and Orange" was a revelation, because I had similar feelings about the Mets, and often questioned my love and loyalty to them, and to sports in general.

Of course, "If You Prick a Mets Fan,..." was the genesis of his book, Mets Fan, and the start of his journey to the pinnacle of Mets fandom. I followed that journey every step of the way, and he even thanked me in The Last Days of Shea for the insightful comments I left on many of his blog posts.

It's impossible to sum up in so few words, a man who had such an impact on so many people. I was hesitant to make my own contribution because of all the eloquent tributes that have already been made. The ones I find particularly touching are by Howard Megdal, which can be read here; by Matt Silverman, titled, "A One of a Kind Brand", here; and by Greg Prince, here. Gentlemen, you knew him best as the reigning monarch of Mets Fandom, and I felt it only fitting to focus my tribute on the teacher who had the most profound impact on me as a student. Our words and memories, be they at Shea Stadium, Citi Field or in the classroom, have shaped who we are, and who we will continue to be on our separate journeys. What joins us together is the common thread of baseball, woven into our hearts by someone we will never forget. The world as we know it is lacking because Dana Brand no longer walks among us. I like to think he has gone to a place where his days will be spent revering and enjoying the things he loved most.

Nava

The Crumbling Metropolitans

2011-05-23T17:13:00.005-04:00

Greetings Friends,

The New York sports world was set on its ear earlier today by the online posting of this article, written by Jeffrey Toobin, appearing in the May 30, 2011 issue of The New Yorker. The article brings to light the frustrations of New York Mets owner, Fred Wilpon, with the current state of his team, along with his vast financial woes brought on by that Ponzi master, Bernard Madoff.

Rather than re-hash the details of Madoff's legendary swindle, I want to talk about what it is that leads men like Fred Wilpon to bite the poison apple of sports team-ownership. There isn't one franchise in creation that could be considered a smooth sailing ship; well, maybe two or three exceptions: the New York Yankees, the Toronto Maple Leafs, the Montreal Canadiens and the Dallas Cowboys. OK, I gave you four examples. My knowledge of European football clubs is such that I do not feel qualified to weigh in on Man. U., Real Madrid, or the other biggies.

The more I think about it, the latest incarnation of the New York Mets is nothing more than the culmination of Fred Wilpon's dream to reincarnate the Brooklyn Dodgers, a team that was wrested from him and millions of other devastated fans, only to be relocated to Los Angeles. Dodger fans never got over the betrayal of their team picking up and moving clear across the continent. When Wilpon was approached, in 1979, by one-time New York Islanders owner, John Pickett, to rescue the Mets from the Payson family, I think it was all he could do to stop himself from becoming the saviour of Brooklyn. And he was, for a while, but things went sour a long time ago. Now he is on the brink of having to sell the team as a repercussion of his decades-long relationship with Madoff. In my opinion, he's getting off easy.

There's a certain amount of hubris that goes along with being a sports team owner, especially now when franchises are estimated to be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. In order to pull off the success that eludes so many teams, you have to maintain a focus that can only be described as tunnel vision. In order to keep your eye on the prize (a championship), you have to not give a shit about anyone or anything else but yourself and your team. And, yes, that includes not giving a shit about the fans. For these guys, the fans are a given; they are the whipped masses whom they think will show up to cheer on their teams no matter what - in the face of prohibitively expensive ticket prices, $30 parking, $10 beers, $8 hot dogs and, gasp! seat licensing fees that don't even include the price of admission. Owners of sports teams have done more to piss on their fans than any other group I can think of. And yet, we respond with a heartfelt, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?" like we'd be deprived of oxygen if we were incapable of rooting for our teams of choice.

The thing is, Fred Wilpon is the "Richie Cunningham" of sports owners. On the despicable scale, he doesn't even register. He's behind a long line of screwballs who think they know best, and they will bankrupt themselves trying to get their point across. The number one scoundrel on the list is New York Islanders owner Charles Wang, who, along with a rather large supporting crew, holds the title of Captain Clueless on the Good Ship Nassau County. It would take years to regale those who are not in the know about this convoluted saga, so I am asking for a little trust on this one. Many Mets fans are also Islanders fans, so they surely know what I am talking about.

As for the rest of you, I feel your pain; believe me, I do. I am not defending Fred Wilpon, nor do I envy the position he finds himself in. I'm sure the incendiary comments he made to Toobin about his team were said in frustration, because every billionaire approaches the prospect of sports team ownership with the best of intentions. Why wouldn't they? If they've been so successful in their current field, why wouldn't they be on the field of play? That's where they get themselves into trouble.

There is no easy solution to this dilemma. Being a sports fan is a wondrous blight on any individual who chooses to expose him or herself to the adulation and heartbreak. Of course, there is always much more heartbreak than adulation. Yet, we stick with it. Myself included.

Nava

Are We Growing?

2011-05-18T11:29:00.001-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Anyone who knows me really well knows I love me some good bath and body products, skin care and fragrances. Some of my favourite products come from the Philosophy brand, of which I've been a fan since its inception. For the past 15 years, I've "grown" with the company, purchasing everything from its fragrances, moisturizers, and countless bottles of their shower gels, like the one pictured above. In case you're wondering, "cinnamon buns" really does smell like cinnamon buns. If someone blindfolded you and stuck a bottle of this stuff under your nose, you'd swear the real thing was in front of you.

About a month ago, I became a Facebook fan of Cristina Carlino, the founder of Philosophy. Almost every day I find new age-y snippets from her in my news feed. Today's snippet was, "everyday we grow. have you grown in the past year?" By the way, all the text of Philosophy's product packaging is deliberately written in lowercase letters. I'm not a huge fan of that, but I'm willing to ignore it because I do love what's in the bottles and jars. As a matter of fact, the Divine Miss O (Oprah Winfrey) is also a huge Philosophy fan, and I do my best to ignore that as well. I'd like to think this was one "favorite thing" I discovered before she did.

Back to the snippet: Have you grown? That's a mighty loaded question if you ask me. In my case, the answer is definitely "yes". Unfortunately, I've grown a bit physically since I've been remiss in paying attention to my diet. I've also grown metaphorically, since I started a business, and have made a solemn vow to learn from past mistakes. Those are two very significant examples of growth.

Unfortunately, growth is often accompanied by death. Certain things must be sacrificed in order for us to grow. Those things can be physical and/or spiritual, depending on the type of growth a person experiences. Maybe you've outgrown certain friendships; maybe you've outgrown your home - be it the actual roof over your head or the city in which you live; maybe the jeans you wore in your 20s no longer fit you; maybe you prefer to drink tea instead of coffee. Growth and change come in many forms, and we need to do our best to recognize them and accept them into our lives. I know - easier said than done.

As much as I'd like to give myself credit for my own personal growth, there is one element that is putting up a mighty struggle. That element is forgiveness. There are certain things I am having great difficulty forgiving, relating to others and myself.

Forgiveness is a tricky thing; there's the saying, "forgive and forget". Forgiveness is the easy part; forgetting is the bitch. You can forgive someone in your mind, but literally forgetting is like trying to scale Everest in stilettos and a bikini. It ain't easy, especially when you feel in your heart that the individual and the actions are about as worthy of your forgiveness as Osama bin Laden. Suffice it to say that it won't happen overnight, if it happens at all.

Growth is about moving on to new and exciting opportunities, and shedding the past. Animals shed their fur twice a year at the turn of the seasons. Humans aren't so lucky. Yes, we do our best to exfoliate, but the metaphorical fur we carry around is not so easy to get rid of. You'd think at some point instinct would take over, but sadly, it does not. Time is the only ally we have. Yet, it is both an ally and a rival. To truly grow, you have to embrace time and let it do its thing. Having a bottle of "cinnamon buns" in the shower doesn't hurt. Last time I checked, shower gel is calorie-free.

Nava

Tree Killers

2011-05-16T17:00:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Statistics have shown that since e-readers hit the market, people have re-embraced reading. I'm not a fan of e-readers; I'd rather nurse my hernia and carry a book. I've never had a problem lugging a hardcover edition of any book with me. My motto has always been, walk softly and carry a big purse. Although, on size 10 feet, I'm not that soft of a walker. Regardless, my big feets allow me to handle a larger load than your average person, so toting a book has never been a big deal. But now that technology has threatened to send books the way of the LP and the CD, I'm growing quite concerned. How zen does life have to be? My records and CDs are in storage, but wherever I go, my books go with me. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it shall remain.

There have always been reams of crap on the bookshelves, technology notwithstanding; but when people like Levi Johnston and Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi are getting book deals, you have to wonder why. I don't have an answer; I'm not a publisher. I actually attempted to ask that question of someone who works for one of the big publishing houses and didn't get an answer. I'm not sure if he just couldn't be bothered, or if he was too embarrassed to acknowledge my query. I won't name names, but the individual works for the publishing house that brought us Snooki's tome. You can find that information very easily on your own.

I've always referred to worthless books as "tree killers". Now, I guess they can be considered gigabyte killers as well. If you're willing to let dreck such as Snooki's ghost-written tell all take up room on your e-reader, well you just won't have room for Madame Bovary or Pride and Prejudice, will you? Not that I believe the individuals who read the classics would bother reading anything having to do with Snooki.

When I got wind of Levi Johnston's coming tell-all, I pretty well lost my mind. I have to worry about recycling every possible scrap of paper (I even get most of my mail online), and this guy gets to write a book? Hell, I love me some good Sarah Palin dirt, but I'm not willing to pay 30 bucks for it. Who really cares what the idiot who knocked up her daughter has to say? Apparently enough people to warrant a book deal. And it's not like he's gonna be starving...his ex-future mother-in-law has made millions. Yet, for writers, getting a book deal is about as likely as getting struck by lightning; although the way the publishing industry is conducting itself these days, if I was looking for a book deal, I'd be spending a lot more time outside.

Like many things in life, what gets published and what doesn't has about as much rhyme or reason to it as why anyone would want to ghostwrite for Levi and Snooki. I won't even venture to guess why people want to read these kinds of books, because there has always been an audience for them. They are the latest in the genre of tell-all trash. I've read my share of those over the course of my life, and I will never pick up another one. It kills me that there are so many talented writers out there who have adopted rejection as a lifestyle, and getting a book deal has become an instantaneous rite of passage for anyone still in the middle of their 15 minutes of fame. How many trees have to die in order for this trend to go on surviving?

I'm hoping that books won't go the way of the dinosaurs. I love to surround myself with them. E-readers may very well save the trees, but if the humans who run the publishing world could resist the urge to flood the market with so much crap, we won't become a society that forgets how to turn a page.

Nava

Another Epidemic and Another List

2011-05-11T13:23:00.002-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Just when you think you've identified all degrees of social ineptitude in existence, another one rears its ugly head.

Selfishness is nothing new, but degrees of it never cease to astound me. I've been ignoring this particular scourge, but I am now ready to throw my hat into the ring. Selfishness has to be the worst personality trait there is; it can be a hard one to recognize and acknowledge. We are all guilty of it at one point or another, and those of us who manage to control our selfish impulses deserve accolades for our feats of strength. Few people manage to pull it off, nor do many of them give a damn if they are perceived as selfish.

I like the list above, but my selfish nature is telling me to make one of my own. After all, it's my blog dammit, and I can be as selfish as I want:

Nava's Top Unforgivable Acts of Selfishness:

1. Lacking empathy. Let's remember that empathy differs greatly from sympathy. You never know if or when a similar set of unfortunate circumstances could befall you.

2. Bloviating about yourself and your problems and then asking about the person on whom you are unloading as an afterthought. Enough about me; what do YOU think of me?

3. Treating another person harshly/disrespectfully in order to draw attention to yourself. The "poor me" tack only works if you're about five, have blonde ringlets, blue eyes, and big pouty lips. If that's not you, don't even try it.

4. Assuming someone will pay for something significant without even an offer of reimbursement. This goes beyond not buying a round or picking up the cheque. If a friend asks you to "pick something up" for him or her, and there is never an offer of repayment, the writing is very clearly on the wall.

5. Assuming that everything in everyone else's lives has something to do with you. Attempting to impose yourself on others when you think they need or want your assistance is just plain wrong. If it's a touchy situation like an illness or death, make a polite offer and wait until you are asked. The "Mighty Mouse" approach of "Here I come to save the day" disguises an alarming level of selfishness and self-gratification.

6. Getting angry at others when they cannot help you. If you find yourself in dire straits and a good friend is for whatever reason, not able to offer assistance, the offer of friendship should be enough.

7. Attempting to inflict your beliefs/habits/opinions on others. Just because YOU think something is de rigueur doesn't mean the rest of the world has to. Enjoy whatever it is and allow everyone else to form their own opinions.

8. Refusing to be happy for your friends and loved ones when something good happens. This is absolutely the pinnacle of selfishness.

Bonus Round:

Pouting when you are not the centre of attention. If you're in a room full of people and you feel that you are not being given the proper amount of attention, go have your pity party someplace else; like in the basement.

Making unkind or hurtful remarks without realizing you've hurt someone's feelings. If your mother never told you "silence is golden", then you deserve the silence you get when the offended party stops speaking to you.

Being a chronic "wheel spinner". If you can't ever get your shit together, don't hire a professional organizer; find a shrink PDQ.

Nava

Push Presents

2011-05-09T15:57:00.002-04:00

Greetings Friends,

I thought we'd shift the conversation off of terrorist assassinations and politics for a while, back to pop culture ridiculousness. First let me preface the following by disclaiming that I am not a mother, nor do I plan on becoming one any time soon.

I've long been aware of the "push" present, given to a new mother after successfully delivering a child. Maybe for some mothers, it's a sushi dinner, or a good bottle of wine, but when you're Hollywood stylist Rachel Zoe, it'd better look like what's pictured above, which, according to People.com, is exactly what she got.

Earlier this year, People.com dubbed 2011 the "Year of the Baby". Anyone who's anyone in Hollywood is with child, and the legions of camera Nazis are out in force on "bump watch". It's an extended odyssey from the pregnancy announcement, to the wardrobe choices, the actual birth and then the miraculous disappearance of the baby weight. If I was a conspiracy theorist, I wouldn't be worrying so much about whether Neil Armstrong actually walked on the moon, or if Barack Obama was really born in Hawaii, I'd want to know if all the "birthers" in Hollywood are paying armies of surrogates to have their babies for them, while they flash fake bellies at the paparazzi. Hey - stranger things have happened. How many women can actually say they've lost all their baby weight within days of giving birth, all due to breastfeeding? If you believe that, there are a few bridges I'd like to sell you.

Body image has always been a touchy subject. Pregnancy usually doesn't help. Once a mere mortal woman has a child, getting her pre-pregnancy shape back can be a difficult, frustrating endeavour. Many women fail to get back to the shape they were prior to having a child, and have to live with the consequences for years, if not the rest of their lives. Watching women like Penelope Cruz, Miranda Kerr, Amy Adams, and countless other "celebutards" (I know that's mean, but this is my blog) parade around in couture scant weeks after giving birth is enough to give any woman a permanent case of postpartum depression. And flashing a 10 carat push present doesn't help either.

Sometimes I think celebrities procreate to feed their over-weaning egos. Someone like Rachel Zoe seems to care more about how many Birkin bags she's got lined up in her closet, rather than how competent of a mother she'd make. I know all too well about the ticking of the clock, but I'm also a firm believer that not every woman is cut out to be a mother. I count myself among those ranks. And I don't think there's anything wrong with admitting that. Kids have never been in the cards for me, and I can honestly say that's a good thing. I love children, as long as they belong to other people. I've never felt the pangs of motherhood, nor will I. And that's fine. If I really want an ostentatious bauble or some other outrageously expensive trinket, having a baby isn't the reason I should get it.

Parenthood is not an excuse to indulge in over-the-top consumerism. What's Victoria Beckham going to receive once she squeezes out kid #4? I shudder to think about it. Instead, I think about all the families in North America struggling to put food on the table, and the other monumental day-to-day struggles raising a family entails. For most of us, they certainly do not include nannies, personal trainers, raw food diets and push presents. If that's what raising a family is all about, I suggest getting a dog instead.

Nava

Majority Rule

2011-05-04T09:42:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

After 7 years of minority merry-go-round, Canada is back to majority rule. Stephen Harper's Conservatives pulled off a stunning victory Monday night by gaining a 166 seat majority in the House of Commons. The Liberals were virtually obliterated, the Bloc Quebecois was literally eliminated, and the NDP finally received its coronation as a legitimate political force. Or were they just the party-of-last-resort for a large group of pissed off, sovereignty-starved Quebeckers? If I live to be 250, I don't think I'll ever understand those people.

So where do we go from here? As I told all my horrified American friends, it's gonna be interesting as hell. You have to keep in mind, a Canadian Conservative and an American Republican couldn't be more different. But, the interesting thing about this current incarnation of Parliament is that the NDP, now the official opposition, is diametrically opposed to just about everything the Conservatives stand for. The two parties are in post-election insistence mode about how despite their differences, they will be able to work together for the greater good of the Canadian people. The cynical American in me is saying, yeah, right. The Canadian in me is willing to give peace a chance. But, it will be anything but peaceful.

Historically, Stephen Harper is an obfuscating control freak of epic proportions. He has been called everything from a douche bag to a dictator, and some other not-so-nice names I won't mention here. Now that he's procured his elusive majority, it's anyone's guess as to how this will play out. And we're stuck with him until October, 2015. It would take something beyond catastrophic to pull the plug on majority rule.

Much as I'm looking forward to seeing this all play out, I must admit that I don't feel the same sense of gloom and doom that I did back in 2004. Even with Osama now swimming with the fishies, it's going to take a few more decades for America to recover from the past decade; if it ever does.

No matter which country you call home, times are nothing if not interesting, and they will continue to be for a very long time. It doesn't matter where you are, or where you attempt to hide, politics will always find you. Resistance is futile.

Nava

Obama Gets Osama

2011-05-02T10:08:00.002-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Yeah, I know; it's the catchphrase of the moment, but what better way to describe it? I remember thinking back in 2004 that Senator John Kerry actually had a chance to beat George W. Bush out of a second term, and that "miraculously", W would pull a rabbit named bin Laden out of a hole somewhere in the nasty tribal regions between Afghanistan and Pakistan, right before election day, to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat. We all know he didn't need to do that. And we all know the havoc two terms of W wrought on the world. Honestly, I didn't think it would matter so much if bin Laden was ever captured, given the rest of the atrocities that occurred during Bush's watch. But, last night proved that the downfall of the most hated individual since Adolf Hitler could galvanize a nation. As if there was any doubt.

I'm sure I don't need to verbalize that I am pleased with the fact that bin Laden got what he deserved. Of course, I sat glued to my television last night and early this morning watching the coverage on CNN; between Wolf Blitzer and John King (especially John King), I think they uttered the phrase "Osama bin Laden is dead" about 5,000 times over the course of two hours. You've gotta admire those two; they can repeat themselves into oblivion.

It wasn't until after President Obama's brief statement that the tongues began to flap at warp speed. The American press wouldn't be the American press if they didn't attempt to be instantaneously gratified; not so much for the benefit of the American public, but for the benefit of their own egos. Earlier in the day, I watched video from the Correspondents Dinner held in Washington DC Saturday night, and really enjoyed the speeches given by Seth Meyers and President Obama. I enjoyed a few hearty belly laughs at the material directed at Donald Trump, and it was hard not to notice the slight bit of rancor with which Obama spoke, regarding the maelstrom of media attention the release of his birth certificate received. You can't really blame the guy - even if he is the leader of the free world. And who knew he had been plotting to kill bin Laden for the past 9 months?

Which leads me to my point: Now that the initial "ding dong the witch is dead" jubilation is winding down, the press actually seems a bit miffed that the Obama administration was able to keep such a tight lid on this operation. That sentiment really brings into focus the sense of entitlement the 24-hour news cycle has created on the part of the American press. No wonder Robert Gibbs couldn't get through one term as Press Secretary. I wouldn't do that job with a gun to my head. Journalism has gone from a serious craft to a never-ending battle of brinkmanship that literally never stops. Who in their right mind would want to deal with that for a living?

When it comes to covert operations, such as attempting to take down the world's most notorious terrorist, a line must be drawn; this isn't like interviewing the coach before the big game. There are some things that must remain classified at all costs. And if this operation wasn't the big Kahuna of classified, I don't know what would be. The media is just going to have to lick their collective wounds and move on. It's not all about them. Never was; never will be.

One thought I had last night relating to elections, besides the fact that today is election day here in Canada, is that the death of bin Laden is a major coup for Barack Obama. One of the more obvious by-products of a 24-hour news cycle is a never-ending election cycle. I'm thinking this event has sewn up his re-election to a second term. I'm not exactly "Carnac the Magnificent" here, but based on the potential Republican candidates at this stage, and the fact that Obama now has major foreign policy cred, it doesn't seem to be that far of a stretch. Then again, you never know how anything will get spun in the press.

As I write this, I am still unsure of which party I am voting for in today's federal election. Stay tuned...

Nava

Donald Trump is an Idiot

2011-04-27T11:39:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Could someone please tell me why this man is attempting to run for President? Is that ostentatious gold building on 5th Avenue and the Trump name attached to all manner of crap (my favourite new expression) not enough for him? Is this some sort of supplemental mid-life crisis he's having? I'm sure by the time he turns 80, his next Slovenian wife will barely be legal.

Right now the air is heavy with politics and romance; Wills and Kate are tying the knot on Friday, and on Monday, Canada goes to the polls. I'm confused as hell about who to vote for; the NDP is surging all of a sudden, especially in Quebec, where they're having delusions of sovereignty yet again. "X" marks the spot, but at this point, I have no idea where the "X" will land.

In the meantime, Donald Trump is taking credit for finally getting President Obama to release a copy of his birth certificate. Now, could he please tell us who really killed JFK and where Jimmy Hoffa is buried? I used to joke that Hoffa was cut up and stashed in my aunt's freezer, but I think "The Donald" might have the answer. He seems to want to take credit for everything, so why not those two enduring mysteries? We can finally get on with life, knowing that Obama really was born in Hawaii. If you don't believe me, click here to see for yourself. And please read the entire article, including the part where Trump says he's "honored" by all this. Will the man ever get over himself?

"The Donald" used to be a New York icon, famous for his gaudy building and his even gaudier Atlantic City casinos. Oh, and his bankruptcies. And his lavish lifestyle. And Ivana, "Don't get mad, get everything." Now he's become dog shit; meaning, if you're not careful, you might step in a pile of Trump because he's everywhere. He never used to bother me, but now with his sudden need to pander to the ignorant conspiracy theorist "Birthers" and the rest of his mishegas, he seriously annoys me.

I have to admit, I'm always amazed at how well his children turned out; not like the typical offspring of the ridiculously wealthy. So why can't he take a lesson from his kids and stop all this ridiculousness? Stick to firing people in the boardroom and altering the landscape? Politics and someone like Donald Trump is never a good combination, especially when the United States is still teetering on the brink of ruin. You can't pull the plug on Congress; you can't bankrupt the government and start over. Well, maybe he thinks he can, but I wouldn't want to watch that happen.

Maybe "The Donald" has something in common with Quebec; he's currently suffering from his own grandiose delusions. Maybe he's bored with his empire and his latest Slovenian wife and needs to bring everyone along for the ride. Or maybe, he's finally lost his marbles in a big way. Whatever the reason, I think the man is an idiot. The state of American politics is so sorry right now, the last thing the country needs is someone like him trying to stir the pot. I don't know what the answer is, but it will certainly never be "President Trump".

Nava

Chop My Legs Off, Why Don't You?

2011-04-22T09:24:00.002-04:00

Greetings Friends,

It's been a time of mourning lately, in more ways than one, and I've been mourning the loss of my last car for the past 6 months. I thought I moved past it, but when a trip to the bank and the drug store turns into a day-killer, I get pissed off all over again.

I "lost" my car in a very underhanded, dastardly fashion. I won't get into specifics, but let's just say that if I'd been thinking on my feet, I'd still have it. Since I wasn't, I don't, and it's over and done with. But some days, relying on transit is like trying to schedule winning the lottery. It never works out the way you think it will. For someone like me, who has had a drivers license since the age of 17, and her own car since the age of 24, not having wheels has metaphorically chopped my legs off. I haven't been a transit person since 1992, when I stopped riding the Long Island Railroad. I keep looking for that phantom set of car keys that I think are buried somewhere in my purse. It's hard, and I'm not happy.

Of course, things could be much worse; I literally could not have use of my legs. Thankfully I do, but why is it that every time I stand waiting for the bus (which never runs on time despite my diligence in checking the schedule online before venturing out), I feel as if all the motor vehicles passing me by are mocking me? It's like I'm the only person in the city of Toronto without wheels, and the joke's on me. I know that's not true, but when you're standing at the bus stop like a schmuck, and the bus is 30 minutes late, all manner of crap runs through your mind, and the one thing you're wishing for is: you guessed it - a car!

The transit system in this city is not as good as it used to be, which sort of kills me, since there are only two major subway lines and bus lines on virtually every primary and secondary street in the city. So why did it take me 3 hours to go to the bank and Shoppers Drug Mart yesterday? For starters, I waited a full 30 minutes past the scheduled time for the bus. Second, I had the misfortune of getting the inexperienced teller at the bank, and third, I got "lost" in Shoppers for way longer than I should have. But the cherry on my cupcake was getting kicked off the subway on the way home, one stop from my destination. It was the second time that happened in 2 weeks and I am completely flummoxed by it. No reason given, just, "This train is going out of service." Plus, my fellow docile Torontonians don't even get pissed off. It's the New Yorker who starts mumbling and cursing under her breath; which further proves that I'll never be a true Canadian. I've got too much piss and vinegar for my own good.

In the grand scheme of things, I can more than make do without a car. Will I get another one? Absolutely; hopefully sooner rather than later. Will I ever forgive or forget the circumstances that lead to my "losing" my last car? Not likely. I don't do well with underhanded and dastardly. All I will say is that what goes around comes around, and the persons responsible will receive karmic retribution at some point. And guess who will be laughing her ass off.

Have a great weekend and a Happy Easter.

Nava

For Geraldine

2011-04-18T09:52:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

This past week has been a tough one for me; I lost someone to whom I was very close. Her name was Geraldine, and she was first cousin to my mother. She died last Tuesday, having lost a bravely fought battle with a rare form of bladder cancer.

I sat down a bunch of times to try to pen something that would do her justice, but I failed miserably, so I've decided to stop trying. You can add obituaries to the list of things I don't write particularly well.

Instead, I've decided to share a memory with all of you.

It was the summer of 1978. I was 11 years-old and decided I wanted to go to summer camp with all my cousins. They made it sound like so much fun and I couldn't wait to get there. When I got there, I was so thoroughly homesick that I called home collect about a dozen times begging my mom to come get me. She was steadfastly stubborn in her insistence that I complete the 6 weeks she paid for, and said not only would she not bring me home, she would not come to see me on visiting day. Instead, it was Geraldine who showed up on visiting day, ignoring her own children in order to comfort me while I sobbed in her arms. I've had to put up with incessant teasing over the years about my homesickness that summer, and it was the only summer I ever went to camp.

Geraldine was the kind of person who never had a bad thing to say about anyone. Her reaction to my hysterical bout of homesickness was to say that summer camp was not for everyone. In the ensuing years, she was privy to many a mishap and slip-up. Whether it was her own kids or another member of the family, she never judged us; she rode out the storms and was always looking forward to calmer days ahead.

Her home was always open to everyone. It didn't matter if it was for a holiday, or just a quick visit; she was always ready to receive whoever wanted to visit her. Her door was literally always open, and now that she's gone, it's sad to realize that I'll never be able to just walk in and see her again.

When Geraldine found out there were no treatment options left for her, she decided that she wanted to remain at home with her husband and family by her side. It was tough to see her bedridden and getting progressively weaker as the days and weeks passed. There was a period over the winter when I went six weeks without seeing her. The changes she underwent during that time, both physically and emotionally, were nothing short of astounding. I immediately felt great sadness for letting so much time pass between visits, but I knew in my heart that this was not the Geraldine I wanted to remember. The Geraldine I knew made the most amazing chicken soup, could talk for hours on end about anything and everything, and was always there to encourage us no matter how insurmountable we thought our problems were. She was truly one of the most kindhearted, genuinely good people I have ever known. There were never any ulterior motives or hidden agendas in Geraldine's closet; she personified the saying, "what you see is what you get".

I've often lamented that there are many things I hope to live to see in my life. Add to the list a cure for cancer. Not just some cancers; all cancer. To bear witness to what it does to people and to see them have to suffer in ways you never thought possible is one of the most unbearable things in life. I hope with all my heart that Geraldine is in a better place now. With a little luck she's having a kaffee klatsch with my mom, her mom, my grandmother, and assorted other relatives who are no longer with us. Sadly, my family is dwindling, but I think we're all going to pull together and be there for each other, despite the shrinking number.

My family and I are very grateful to the Temmy Latner Centre for Palliative Care for taking such incredible care of Geraldine during her illness. I encourage everyone to follow the link to find out more about this program, which is affiliated with Mount Sinai Hospital here in Toronto.

Nava

Celebrity vs. Privacy

2011-04-11T14:21:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

I'm sure everyone has some degree of "Royal Wedding Fever" now that the blessed event is only 2 weeks away. I'm certainly planning on watching it. Hell, I haven't been going to bed until 2 or 3 in the morning for weeks now, so what's the point if the "wedding of the century" coverage will begin at 5 am in my part of the world?

I watched the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer way back in 1981. I was 14 years old and absolutely enthralled with Diana's story. I wasn't a particularly avid royal watcher, but who wouldn't want to be the shy young girl who gets swept off her feet by a real-life Prince Charming? Too bad she didn't have the storybook ending we all hope for; Charles turned out to be anything but a prince, and we all know what happened to Diana.

I've started and abandoned a few essays about the topic of the paparazzi and the right to privacy. There have been many American celebrities who have challenged some of these relentless photographers, but under the auspices of the First Amendment, there's not a lot you can do to stop them. In Diana's case, she played a sort of cat-and-mouse game with them, giving them what they wanted when she wanted, and running from them when she didn't. I can't imagine what it must have been like for her, or is like for anyone for that matter, to constantly have to deal with someone pointing a camera in your face wherever you go. Some celebs say they eventually get used to it. The high price of fame means you sacrifice your privacy in the bargain, but is it really worth it? In 1997, when Diana was killed, I thought the paparazzi would ease up a bit, but if anything, their aggressiveness has gotten exponentially worse. Now, with a camera on board every mobile phone, everyone has the potential to be a paparazzo. As I often wonder about concussed hockey players, when will the day come when one of these intrusive shutterbugs pays the ultimate price for trying to snap a picture? I'm convinced this is also an inevitability.

In the meantime, You've got the Kardashian family and countless other reality "stars" living their lives in front of cameras, not to mention reveling in their overexposure. When I see someone like Kate Gosselin getting snapped at the local Target in Assbackwards, PA, I think to myself, why would an anonymous person gladly put up with that? The fact that she's now raking in millions notwithstanding, I can't get past the act of prostituting your children for the cameras as a viable living. Millions of people live anonymous lives and manage to get through their days without worrying about a random photographer jumping out of the bushes as they grab their mail in their bathrobes. We've witnessed countless celebrity meltdowns at the hands of these photographers, who have been known to cause car accidents, nervous breakdowns and the occasional fisticuffs. If the encounter does happen to get physical, it's always the celeb that gets the shit end of the stick, because these photographers are technically just doing their "jobs". Yes, we know that a public figure gives up a great degree of privacy, but the line in the sand has become non-existent.

As Kate Middleton prepares to say "I do" to Prince William, 30 years after Charles and Diana did the deed, I can't help but wonder what her life will be like once she's officially "Princess Catherine". Will the life of her deceased mother-in-law provide some sort of guide for handling the paparazzi, or will Princess Catherine eventually be driven to distraction by their presence? I certainly hope her story has a happier ending than Diana's. Happily ever after is unrealistic, but happy enough despite living your life in front of the cameras is probably the most she'll be able to expect.

Nava

Ink & Paint Celebrates a Year!

2011-04-08T06:58:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

It's been one year since I started this blog and I'm happy to say it's still going strong.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my loyal readers and all the people who have been supportive throughout this journey. The road has had some bumps and potholes, but fortunately, it has been a pretty terrific ride most of the way. The journey is far from over. Here's to a bigger, better and brighter future!

Enjoy your weekend.

Nava

Why So Serious?

2011-04-06T15:37:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Tiger Woods might not find the above image to be funny, but I think it's hilarious. Last week, a local magazine PhotoShopped Toronto Mayor Rob Ford's head onto a similarly porcine body. He's only been in office 5 months and already, you'd think he was New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg after the big blizzard. Mayor Ford supposedly took the lampooning in stride. Good for him.

There are times that call for seriousness, and other times, we could do with a bit more irreverence. I used to never miss an episode of "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" and "The Colbert Report". My day wasn't complete until I got an earful of what those two men had to say. They always managed to take the edge off, no matter how much stress I felt, and after a few good belly laughs, sleep always came easy. It didn't matter that the underlying messages were serious; the ability to satirize them is an art form - not something everyone can accomplish. That brand of humour is also not for everyone. It happens to be for me.

There comes a point in time when you are in danger of taking yourself too seriously. It doesn't matter what your occupation, but if you begin to feel that civilization will crumble without your contribution, it might be time for a holiday. I like to refer to this as the "Star Trek Convention" effect. If you happen to find yourself at one once or twice over the course of your life, there's nothing wrong with that. When you attend several over the course of a year and feel the need to dress as a "Ferengi" while simultaneously speaking fluent "Klingon", there might be a problem. It may be time to get a life. William Shatner had the right idea.

Some people have a habit of rendering themselves indispensable.Whether it's performing a certain task or offering up opinions or advice, certain folks feel the need to do or see things only one way: theirs. Everyone else can go play in traffic for all they care. I used to think office know-it-alls were the only ones capable of this sort of behaviour, but life and experience taught me that these people are everywhere. No matter where you are or what you do, there's always going to be someone or some group that has the market cornered on serious. And it's no surprise that the more serious they are, the less you want to have anything to do with them.

I revel in irreverence. I adore it. I aspire to be more irreverent every day I am alive. There are times when seriousness is required, but I find those times to be fewer and fewer the older I get. Let the "Trekkies" have their fun. Let the know-it-alls think they know everything. I will never take them as seriously as they take themselves.

By the way, the reason I don't really watch Stewart and Colbert anymore is because they are not on basic cable here in Canada. Sacrilege.

Nava

Had Enough Yet?

2011-04-04T14:01:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Never let it be said that the United States is a wallflower. It can also never be said that any Canadian election will ever be viewed as a world-changing event. Another cold, hard fact about life in the information age is that the American election cycle never ends. Are we tired yet? Have we had enough?

This morning, President Barack Obama announced his intention to seek re-election in 2012. He's filing his papers with the Federal Election Commission and is gearing up to raise what will probably be record amounts of money to run his re-election campaign. It's hard to believe that time has passed so quickly, and that it's time to do this all over again.

As excited as I am about the upcoming Canadian election, I have to admit to feeling somewhat ambivalent about the 2012 presidential campaign. As I previously stated, it's a hell of a lot easier to wreck a parliament than it is to bring about change in federal constitutional republic. Here in Canada, I find myself rooting for Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper to gain his elusive majority. When you have to contend with minority government rule for too long, it starts to resemble, um, how can I say this delicately: having a squeeze without a squirt. That's sure to land me a spot on CBC's "At Issue" panel, don't you think?

While Canada will probably know who its leader will be in the wee hours of May 3, 2011, Americans will have to sweat it out until November, 2012. In the meantime, there isn't a moment's peace, a chance to take a breath, or even a chance to put through meaningful legislation without the public and the punditry going to war over it. I'm starting to believe that politics is going to replace professional sports in terms of capturing the interest of Americans. After all, there really is no off-season. It's not like having to pine away for baseball during the bleak winter months. Politics never goes away. It's always in season, and it never retires.

How about that Obama 2012 yard sign pictured above? You too can own one if you visit Obama's Web site, watch his video and make a donation.

Is it me, or was 2007 only yesterday?

Nava

Pointed in the Correct Direction

2011-03-30T18:03:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Ever wonder where your loyalties really lie? Here in Canada, we have a compass - a Vote Compass to tell us. Maybe you want to give it a try; if so, here's the link. I gave it a whirl the other day and found out I'm a Liberal. As if there was any doubt.

For my friends in the United States, a Canadian Liberal is way, way to the left. A Canadian Conservative is more in tune with a middle of the road, fiscally conservative Democrat. If you're looking for something akin to a Republican, check in Alberta. Other than there, they don't exist here.

As for the other parties, the New Democrats (NDP) would be considered outright Communists, and the Bloc Quebecois would be compared to Civil War-era Confederates with their isolationist attitude. The one party that's really getting the shit end of the stick is the Green Party. I'm not sure what they represent; I understand the "green" connotation, but they're not getting much attention. Canada's environmental platform is even more shameful than the one in the U.S. and it seems people are doing their best to ignore the "Greenies". They're sort of like Ralph Nader: they re-appear every four years and start squawking about how no one pays any attention to them. What they stand for is something of a mystery.

So things are really heating up here. The buses are in motion and the baby-kissing has commenced. 7 million Canadians have used the Vote Compass so far, and I hope that number will keep rising. Regardless of how you feel about the necessity of this election, it never hurts to educate yourself on the issues and exercise your right to vote in a democratic society. I shudder to think what life would be like without this ability.

Nava

Ditching the Paper

2011-03-28T09:58:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

It's official; Election Day here in Canada will be on May 2. Typically, I will want to absorb as much political news as I possibly can; this has been my M.O. ever since I turned 18 and attained the right to vote. All the pundits in this country are grousing about the lack of necessity for this particular election, but I happen to be excited about it. So why did I cancel my newspaper subscription on Saturday?

About a week after I moved into my new place, a nice kid knocked on my door one afternoon, offering me a free 16 week trial subscription to the National Post. I accepted, and a few days later, the paper began landing on my doorstep. The problem is, I never even read it. I flipped through the sections, but never opened one up to read an actual article. I was still getting the majority of my news online and on television. I used to be an avid newspaper reader, but it became obvious that my need for an actual print edition of a newspaper is superfluous. Then why did I agree to the subscription? I believe my guilt over not reading newspapers anymore got the better of me.

I've been living during a time where technology has changed so much of our daily lives. I've gone from envying people's ability to fold the New York Times like origami, to envying people with iPads. It used to be that you were not considered a well-informed individual unless you read a newspaper daily. Now, you're not well informed if you don't have any media apps on your smart phone. I happen to have 8. And the inherent guilt I felt over this made me agree to a newspaper subscription which I wound up cancelling after only 4 weeks.

The sad fact is, newspapers have indeed become superfluous, extraneous - dare I say it - unnecessary. Hang me for treason, but you and I both know it's true. 30 years ago, the popular lament was, "Video killed the radio star" when MTV signed on the air. Now, the Internet has put a bullet through the heart of journalism. This is old news, I know, but my last ditch effort to be loyal to print has essentially gone down in flames. There was no newspaper outside my front door this morning. To tell the truth, I'm not all that upset about it. If I lost my Internet connection, I'd be freaking; not only is it my source of income, it is my source of information as well. And print is the collateral damage in my quest to make an honest living.

When I was in graduate school, some of my professors used to scoff at us because of the access we had to online research databases through my alma mater's Web site. It was convenient when writing papers to just search scholarly journals online, whenever, as opposed to schlepping over to the library. But for those who came before me who had no choice but to rummage through the stacks, there was palpable annoyance. Not that finding a book in a library is difficult; but you can't exactly do it at 3:00 in the morning in your jammies; unless it's finals week and the library is open 24/7. Same with reading a newspaper. You don't have to partake in a Tony Soprano-style perp walk down the driveway in your bathrobe to retrieve your paper - you just punch it up online.

Last week the New York Times announced its plan to start charging users if they view more than 20 online articles per month. Print subscribers will get to enjoy access to their Web site for free. Which begs the question: why do you need both? Now that everyone and their brother has a smart phone and/or a tablet, what's the point of having an actual newspaper? I hate to say this, but I think the death of the newspaper is going to happen much quicker than we think. And yes, this is partly my guilt talking for cancelling my subscription.

I'm still not sure I want to live in a world without newspapers, but there will soon be an entire generation of humans that will likely go through life not knowing what one is. That's sad, but technology will keep advancing regardless of what I think. At this point, I feel that as long as I have an Internet connection, I'll be able to deal with it. When the time comes, I will honestly mourn the death of the newspaper, but I don't think I'll have a particularly large crowd of mourners to keep me company.

Nava

Pulling the Plug

2011-03-25T21:12:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

It's official; Canada's Parliament fell today, and in about a month, we Canucks are going to be voting in a federal election.

Canadian politics has always held more intrigue for me. American-style democracy is like the designated hitter in major league baseball: it takes a lot of the strategy out of the game. A Parliamentary government is all about strategy. As in baseball, if you pinch hit for the pitcher, you'd better make sure you've got your clutch hitter at the plate. And, if you attempt the double-switch, you'd better make sure your .195 hitter doesn't have a shot at getting up with the bases loaded. There's a lot to consider.

I don't want to bore everyone with a primer on Canadian politics. Let's just say it's much more "wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am" than what goes on in the U.S. There's going to be some frenetic campaigning, a couple of debates, and then, the vote; all this in a span of about 35 days. No caucuses, primaries or months worth of vitriolic campaign rhetoric to endure. It's all over before you know it. The $64,000.00 question is whether or not Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper will finally obtain his elusive majority in the House of Commons. I'm betting he will. The Liberals and the New Democrats (NDP) are about as charismatic a bunch of politicians as a case of warm, flat beer. Not that Harper is any prize, but the consensus here is that it's better to go with the devil you know, rather than the one you don't.

The Canadian economy didn't collapse as badly as the American or European economies. Strict banking regulations are what probably saved it; the sub prime mortgage didn't exist up here, so there were no mortgage-backed derivatives posing as cinder blocks in the Canadian stock markets. Don't get me wrong, there's plenty to worry about, just not on the same level as there is south of the border. Canadian political scandals are nowhere near as damning, even though the media would like to think they are. In reality, we are an endearing little country, much as we'd like to be fraught with evil like our next-door neighbours. We usually fly way under the radar, and I've come to prefer it that way.

I am giddy at the prospect of voting. The weight of the world doesn't hinge on the outcome; it's more about shits and giggles - at least for me. I've spent a lot of time trying to understand the fundamental differences between a constitutional monarchy (Canada) and a federal constitutional republic (U.S.). Frankly, I prefer former, because if it ain't working, you can pull the plug. No counting the days until the Iowa caucuses. All it takes is a whole lot of shouting, a chorus of yays, nays, and tea with the Governor General. Then, it's off to the polls. As one of my favourite TV chefs, Barefoot Contessa Ina Garten, is so fond of saying, "How easy is that?" God save the Queen and pass me a pencil.

Have a great weekend.

Nava

The Shylock Approach

2011-03-23T12:24:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

There has been a lot of chatter lately about what to do about all the concussions in sports, particularly in hockey. I wrote about it a couple of weeks ago, mentioning how it was discovered that deceased legendary NHL enforcer Bob Probert's brain showed signs of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) when it was examined by researchers at the Boston University Center for the study of Traumatic Encephalopathy. Last week, NHL general managers met and could not agree upon a worthy course of action to protect their own players. Instituting some sort of head-checking penalty would have been the logical solution, but these guys don't seem to want to rock the boat. Even with Sidney Crosby still sitting out since January.

With all the horrific events going on in the world, sports should be balm to our wounded psyches. Instead, it has become fraught with controversy: everything from potentially catastrophic injuries, labour disputes, drug use; even good old Bernard Madoff has left his mark on the sports world by reducing New York Mets owner Fred Wilpon to a state of penury, and the team in total disarray. In addition to things being totally crappy on a global scale, you can't even find comfort in cheering for your favourite sports team with out it smarting on some level.

The head injury dilemma in hockey is very disturbing because I have always been such a big fan of the game. Since I've been living in Canada, I have gained an additional perspective of witnessing how Canadian fans react to the game's many controversies. There seems to be more concern for the kids playing the game, particularly those in the Canadian junior leagues, since many of those players wind up playing in the NHL. Remember, Canadian colleges and universities do no offer sports scholarships, so that leaves out a governing body like the NCAA (such as it is) that would advocate for player safety. Instead, Hockey Canada, the powers that be in this country, is about as limp as a pot of overcooked spaghetti when it comes to bringing about significant change. I remain convinced that we will see a player die on the ice before there is some sort of meaningful reform. I don't want to see that happen, which is why I've come up with my own plan of action.

I've decided to call it "The Shylock Approach". Hence the photo of Al Pacino as "Shylock" from the film version of Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. I'm not suggesting the literal cutting of a pound of flesh from the offender, but I am suggesting that if the perpetrating individual inflicts an injury of the magnitude that requires a player to sit out for months in order to recover - if he recovers at all - that player should sit out an equal length of time. And, if the career of the injured player is cut short by the injury, than the guilty party's career should meet with the same fate. A measure this drastic might be the only way to put a stop to the alarming regularity with which these guys go after each other. NHL style justice is about as credible as all those e-mails I get telling me I've won the Nigerian lottery. The only way to teach a bunch of adrenaline-pumped professional athletes to respect each other is to take a "pound of flesh" stance that may just give them pause to think before they throw that elbow. You never know until you try. Nothing else has worked so far, and the last thing we need on top of earthquakes, tsunamis and psychotic Middle Eastern despots, is an athlete getting killed on the playing field.

A Shakespearean tragedy makes for a good read, but to watch one play out in real life is not something I relish. Yes, "Shylocking" has become a euphemism for loan-sharking, and we all know what happens when you don't make payments. The "penalties" can be avoided, wherever they happen to occur.

Nava

The Perfect Engagement

2011-03-21T13:34:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

When I was in high school, I read many romance novels. I wore girly perfumes and dreamed about having the perfect man propose to me with a diamond ring the size of a Gobstopper. Now, many years later, I gag at the thought of romance. I crave honesty, straightforwardness and as bullshit-free of a life as possible. Which is why I'm considering dangling from my balcony over what I'm currently working on. Relax, I'm only on the third floor.

I've never been a big fan of weddings. Maybe because I began attending them at a young age; my first cousins on my father's side were all considerably older than me and started getting married when I was around 10 years old. Children that age don't belong at weddings, unless you impose the job of ring bearer or flower girl upon them. Other than that, they should be left at home. Alas, I was not, and had to suffer through more weddings than the average child should be subjected to. By the time I was 16, I walked down the aisle at by brother's wedding and watched him marry a woman who...well, it's not about her. It's about the "engagement" portion of the process, and what one should do when the time comes to pop the question. I've been attempting to write a page for an engagement ring Web site about getting engaged in Toronto, and it's not going terribly well. I can improvise almost anything, but trying to come up with suggestions for where to get engaged is proving torturous.

Here are some unique suggestions. Of course they won't be appearing on the page I'm working on, but maybe by letting off a bit of steam, I'll get my head into a place where I can finish the damn thing and move on.

The Food Court at the Eaton Centre: I don't know what's been going on in that place, but the food court has begun to resemble the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Hide the ring in a large order of McDonalds fries and hope the homeless guy begging for spare change doesn't find it before she does.

The College Street TTC Station: This used to be the stop hockey fans got off at to go see games at Maple Leaf Gardens. Propose to her in front of the mural on the platform of players wearing Montreal Canadiens uniforms. This is Toronto - why are the players wearing the uniforms of their arch rivals? It might make you re-think your move entirely.

Any Random Hole in the Ground Promising to be the Next Luxury Condo Hi-Rise: These have become so ubiquitous across the city, you wonder where the people will be coming from who will potentially inhabit these domiciles. Also, you can show her what she'll never have because you blew so much money on the ring.

An All-You-Can-Eat Sushi Restaurant: The tuna is fake, but you'd never know it. So is the diamond in the engagement ring.

The Glass Floor Observation Deck at the CN Tower: It's 1,122 feet straight down. If she horks before she answers, you'll know why.

I think I'm going to stop here. I don't want everyone to think I'm completely romance-intolerant. I'm not, but I'll never make my living writing about it. Thank God.

Nava

"Bloggus Interruptus"

2011-03-18T10:52:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Yes, I know; I've been mostly MIA lately. Actually, I've been trapped in the inner circle of thought. That's a rip off of a line from an esoteric little movie from the early 90s, Defending Your Life. It stars Albert Brooks (pictured above) as a dead man who has to defend himself to the universe before he ascends to a higher level of consciousness, or is returned to Earth for another go round. When I was younger, I adored this movie. As I've aged, it kind of bothers me; I find myself in the midst of a somewhat existential crisis: I've been spending inordinate amounts of time inside my head, thinking myself into a literal stupor.

Why have I been spending the majority of my time this way? For one, current events are nothing short of horrific. Between the Middle East and now Japan, I'm beginning to wonder if the Mayans really did have it all figured out. Second, there's been an overwhelming amount of vindictiveness and pettiness that I've had to contend with lately. It takes Herculean strength to deal with it all, and to keep from succumbing to it. When you keep saying to yourself, be the bigger person; don't give credence to that type of behaviour by indulging in it yourself, you eventually want to just crawl under the covers and never be heard from again. Why is it so easy to be vindictive and petty, and so hard to sit there and take it? I've been told I shouldn't let it bother me. I need to get over it and move on. I even had someone ask me (a mental health professional no less), "How long do you think it will take you to get over this?" Is there a time frame? Is there a book I should buy that has a schedule I should be living my life by? Sorry, but I make it a habit to steer clear of the Self Help/Personal Growth section of any bookstore. In my opinion, that area wastes more valuable space than the Danielle Steel/Harlequin Romance section.

Everyone has a neurosis or two they deal with; none of us are "normal". Those of us who manage to own our neuroses are likely to get along in life much better than those of us who can't. I've been making a concerted effort to deal with mine, but the more I try, the more excuses I have. Again, there's the mental health professional chirping in my ear. How can we get through a day with out an excuse or two? Is there anyone walking the earth who is totally willing to take ownership of every mode of behaviour? Geez, if I tried hard enough, I bet I could be that person. Forget it; I don't get enough sleep as it is. Oops, that sounded like an excuse to me.

The bottom line is that you need to learn to be your own best friend. Counting on others for empathy and support is an impossibility these days. If you want loyalty, get a dog. I think that's what Michael Douglas told Charlie Sheen in Wall Street. It's entirely possible that's the soundest piece of advice ever uttered.

From here on out, it's back to blogging. I still like referring to my readers as friends, but I'm completely at peace that you are not literally my friends. No more excuses.

Have a great weekend.

Nava

The Call has Gone Out

2011-03-09T11:31:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I've decided to open up the lines of communication and let my faithful readers decide what I should write about.

Leave a comment or visit Ink & Paint's Facebook page to post a suggestion.

I'm eagerly anticipating your remarks.

Nava

Squash Soup

2011-03-04T17:10:00.003-05:00

Greetings Friends,

This has been a hell of an interesting week in terms of brain function. Just when you thought the world was moving forward from the questionable mental acuity of Charlie Sheen and the rest of his ilk, we've got trauma on the brain - literally - in the form of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) found in the brain of deceased hockey enforcer Bob Probert.

In case your short term memory is failing, Probert passed away of a heart attack last July, at the age of 45. He was known as the most feared enforcer to ever play in the NHL. His colourful career, complete with 3,300 total penalty minutes, mirrored his even more colourful off-ice persona, which was marred by drug and alcohol abuse. According to the story that appeared in The New York Times earlier this week, Probert decided to donate his brain to the Boston University Center for the Study of Traumatic Encephalopathy, after he and his wife, Dani, saw a 60 Minutes segment about the prevalence of CTE in brains of deceased former NFL players. According to Probert's wife, he began to exhibit symptoms of erratic brain function in his 40s: diminished short term memory, bouts of temper, and lack of impulse control. These symptoms could have been caused by countless blows to the head Probert received over the course of his NHL career, they could have been a result of years of drug and alcohol abuse, or they could have been the result of accidents Probert was involved in when he was drinking and using drugs. No one can say for sure; the one certainty in this scenario is that evidence of CTE was found in Probert's brain, albeit not quite as severe as what has been found in the brains of former NFL players, wrestlers and boxers that were looked at prior to Probert's.

Regardless of the severity of Probert's CTE, the hockey world has been buzzing about this revelation all week. Any hockey fan will tell you that fighting is an integral part of the game, and attempts to remove it have been met with significant resistance. Rules have been tinkered with, and punishments made more severe, but that hasn't stopped the occurrence of concussions from increasing over the course of this season. Even superstar Sidney Crosby has been sidelined for 2 months after sustaining a concussion and attempting to play through it.

There has been a significant uptick in pledges of brain donations to the BU center by NHL and NFL players. Unfortunately, nothing can be gleaned from a brain while its owner is still using it. All research must be conducted posthumously. In Probert's case, it is unclear whether or not his drug use had any effect on the level of CTE found in his brain, but the findings are consistent with other brains that were studied. Comments from the higher-ups at the NHL indicate that they are waiting to see what more research will show; they're not going to readily admit that their players are in danger of scrambling their brains every time they lace up the skates and take the ice. And, they obviously don't want to send waves of panic rippling through all the junior and amateur leagues, right on down to the pee-wees.

We know precious little about the brain. We witness miracles, like the fact that Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords is alive after being shot point-blank in the head. We read about the erratic behaviour of athletes who seem to be predisposed to concussions; we hear horrific tales of older, retired professional athletes who commit heinous acts, and then commit suicide. Only an ignorant person would stick their head in the sand by saying that the behaviour/occupation correlation is a load of crap. We may not know much, but science is beginning to reveal that there is a connection.

All kidding aside, what we do with our bodies has a direct affect on our brains. If we play contact sports, we risk injuring more than just our limbs. If we abuse drugs and alcohol, we have the potential to pickle more than just our giblets. Our brains are starting to reveal more about us than we ever imagined they would; and this is only just the beginning. Could there be future explanations for other types of unsavoury behaviour, such as racism, ignorance, obsessive compulsiveness and mania? Add this to the list of things I hope to live to see.

Have a glorious weekend.

Nava

I Cannot Look Away

2011-03-02T14:15:00.002-05:00

Greetings Friends,

OK, my interest in the ongoing Charlie Sheen saga is bordering on obsession. This is more than just an inability to look away from a "train wreck". This is something we've all experienced, playing out in a very public way, with public figures playing the starring roles.

These are high times for "meshuganas" (Yiddish for crazies). Let's take stock here: We've got Muammar Gaddafi hanging on to the dregs of power in Libya, esteemed fashion designer John Galliano, late of the house of Dior, proclaiming his love for Adolf Hitler and his hatred of Jews in a Paris cafe, and Charlie Sheen in complete denial over his drug issues, living it up with goddesses, and nursing a pretty severe case of verbal diarrhea. What gives?

Unfortunately, the three examples I've used here garner attention because of their occupations: a dictator, a fashion designer and an actor; three job descriptions that are assured of brushing up against media exposure at some point. What about the rest of us? All the anonymous schmoes who inhabit this planet who exhibit the same narcissistic, maniacal behaviour without a drop of ink or a byte of bandwidth sacrificed on their behalf, are guilty of inflicting the same torture on their social circle without the rest of the world being the wiser. Who doesn't have a friend who behaves like Charlie Sheen? Who doesn't have to survive under the yoke of a boss who behaves like a dictator? Who hasn't come in contact with a person whose ignorant views make us want to dive under tables? We all have.

There are times in life when the waters are calm and the breeze gently drifts over us. Then there are times when the winds whip and the waters roil with anger. When you exist in a milieu with individuals who are a few sandwiches short of a picnic, you know it. The world feels off-kilter and life has an unsettled vibe to it that can unnerve the crap out of you. I've been living through that sort of scenario for the past year or so, and it is not what I would call "fun". To be at the mercy of a "mad" person is the worst type of psychological torture you can experience. Physical torture is bad enough, but when you expose yourself to manipulation at the hands of another, you're lucky to emerge from it by the skin of your teeth. When you get the opportunity to view it from afar, you simultaneously are grateful that you're not the one immersed in misery, and you feel bad for those who are.

So, Muammar, John and Charlie: I know this doesn't make sense in your twisted brains at this particular moment in time, but see if you can shift the focus off yourselves for a while and think about the pain you are inflicting on those around you. Same goes for any anonymous schmoes who may be reading this right now. It's not all about you. You may think it is, but it is not. I've said this before and it bears repeating: control is an illusion. In the end, you will be the ones getting hurt; those you inflict yourselves upon usually wise up and walk away. Usually.

Nava

Award Shows? Feh... Charlie Sheen? Oh Yeah...

2011-02-28T13:14:00.003-05:00

Greetings Friends,

It's been a while since I blogged about the goings on in LA LA Land. Well, I've been remiss in blogging, period. To take my mind off my ongoing living adjustment period, what better topic is there to focus on? Last night's Oscars was the snore-fest everyone predicted it would be, despite the infusion of "young" Hollywood for the hosting duties. By the way: why does everyone have to malign James Franco for his pursuit of a Ph.D. in English? Jealous?

I did not watch the Oscars. Instead, I periodically checked in at People.com to look at the Oscar night fashions. I'll also be watching Joan Rivers and her "Fashion Police" now that I have access to E! on my cable package. Snark for the sake of snark is sometimes worthless, but when it comes out of the mouth of Joan Rivers, I can't resist it. By the way, I'm glad "The King's Speech" won the top accolades.

Charlie Sheen has been my latest train-wreck obsession. I don't watch a lot of television, and I think the sitcom is probably the biggest waste of a half hour there is; but I've been a closet fan of Chuck Lorre's work for years, and "Two and a Half Men" has been a show I've gone out of my way to watch. I am simultaneously distraught by Charlie Sheen's recent outbursts about Mr. Lorre, and indulging in a bit of Schadenfreude at watching Sheen destroy his reputation. Then, there's Hollywood and the almighty dollar, which everyone in that business kowtows to. So, the combination of Charlie Sheen lashing out like a schizophrenic who's forgotten to take his meds, and the prospect of millions in lost revenue, has gotten my attention. It sure beats contemplating all the crazies I'm lucky enough to know personally.

Last year, when Mel Gibson went batshit on his girlfriend, I defended him. This time around, I'm not sure how to feel about Charlie Sheen and his antics. I admire the guy's acting ability; I have since he starred in "Wall Street" over 20 years ago. "Two and a Half Men" is well written, well acted and funny as hell. I think Chuck Lorre and his musings rival those of Larry David and the brilliance that was "Seinfeld". Charlie Sheen has now taken on the role of "fly in the ointment" because of his outlandish personal behaviour, and his inability to slay the demons of drug addiction. By claiming that sobriety is as simple as flipping a switch in your brain, he's exhibiting about as much credibility as all the e-mails I've been getting, proclaiming that I've won 50 million pounds in the "British Lottery". I'm not saying it's easy to admit you have a problem; but ranting, raving and blaming everyone else is never the way to go. It just makes you look like an even bigger schmuck.

I'll be sad if "Two and a Half Men" goes bye-bye. I'd be even sadder at the ultimate demise of Charlie Sheen. It's never fun to watch someone flush their life down the toilet; be it with drugs or other types of destructive behaviour. I've been party to watching people I know behave badly, and it takes a lot of stamina to be the bigger person while others shout you down. I commend Chuck Lorre for keeping a lid on his emotions; were I him, I'd have a lot to say - in private. I hope he's doing that. As for Charlie Sheen, 45 is too old to be acting like a petulant child. It's also a damn shame that he's squandering his talent. He's not the first, and sadly, he certainly will not be the last to do so.

Nava

Apartment Building Living 101

2011-02-23T10:02:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Sorry for the absence, but I was busy getting situated in my new apartment. Why is it that images like the one above are never really what your apartment looks like? The example I chose is one you see only in decorating magazines or on sitcoms, where cool single people live and life is perfect. Well, beyond the facade, there are imperfections. Somehow, they never find their way into a script, and nobody ever gets to see them. Apartments in "fantasy land" are always perfect, while in reality, they are far from it.

This is actually my second apartment in a building. My first two were in houses, and those had an entirely different set of issues. Apartment building living is all right, for the most part, but there are certain challenges. Are house apartments and building apartments similar? Yes. Are they different? Yes. Which one do I prefer? Honestly, neither. As a former homeowner, my goal is to get back there one day.

In the meantime, "home sweet home" is shaping up rather nicely. During my first week I committed a few faux pas, but nothing too terrible. I mistakenly shoved loose bubble wrap down the garbage chute (no biggie), I blew a fuse while using my electric kettle and toaster simultaneously (again, no biggie), and yesterday, I left a sock trail coming back from the laundry room. My well-meaning next-door neighbour was nice enough to retrieve them and give them back to me. Whew! At least it wasn't underwear! Nevertheless, I was slightly mortified. Is it really any of my neighbour's business what my socks look like?

This place has a very different feel from my last building apartment. For one, this is a much older building, and I don't have my own thermostat. Both my radiators are turned off, and I'm comfortable despite the outdoor cold. The hallways, however, are Turkish steam baths, and I'm already worried that I won't be able to find the proper rectangular model air conditioner I'm going to need come summer. In my last apartment, I had my very own washer and dryer. In this one, I fear I might go broke doing my laundry. It's shaping up to be about a $12 a week proposition.

So far, these are my only complaints. If that's all there is, then I should consider myself lucky. As long as I do my work, keep to myself and mind my business, I should be fine. The chances of having rocket scientists for neighbours are slim to none. But, I really don't care. As long as the door is closed and no one invades my space, that's quite all right with me. Things are definitely moving in the right direction.

Nava

Cardboard Box Blues

2011-02-11T17:26:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

This was going to be a post about what a moron I think Lindsay Lohan is. Hence the picture. Then, I remembered, I have to pack. I'm moving on Tuesday.

When you freelance for a living, and life gets in the way, you have to either juggle, or pray that your clients can bear with you for a few days while you sort your life out. I've never moved as a freelancer, so I'm not quite sure what to expect. All I know is, I'm tired of looking at all the boxes.

I've never been a transient sort of person. I like to put down roots and stay for a while. The past few years have been somewhat nomadic, and I'm hoping to give it a rest for a while. Living and working in one place is very appealing to me, and I think the space I'll be living in will be conducive to a productive work/life balance. At least that's how I feel right now.

Writing is a solitary activity, and right now, I crave solitude. So, happy days are ahead. Fingers and toes are crossed.

Have a great weekend.

Nava

Wednesday is "Share" Day

2011-02-09T17:14:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Things are nuts right now. I'm working my ass off, which I am grateful for, because next Tuesday I move into my new place. Internet access ain't cheap, as I pointed out last week.

I'd like to share with you a gobsmackingly (I know, not a word, but it works here) fascinating article that appears in next week's New Yorker about Canadian writer/director Paul Haggis and his 34 years spent as a Scientologist. Everyone is buzzing about it, including me. I posted the link on my Facebook page yesterday, and now I want to share it here as well. Be prepared to devote at least two hours to reading this piece; it is a whopper, but it is absolutely worth it. Here is the link.

I also found this rebuttal in yesterday's National Post.

See you on Friday.

Nava

Who is Arianna Huffington?

2011-02-07T12:30:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

The big news on this first Monday in February is the acquisition of The Huffington Post by AOL. Just when I've all but abandoned my almost 20 year-old AOL e-mail account (created back in the days when people didn't use their real names on e-mail), I see that AOL is attempting to become an online news juggernaut with the help of Ms. Huffington and her Post. It's a bold move; one that will breathe new life back into an Internet dinosaur, and turn the former wife of a former Republican congressman, into the left wing "Queen of all Media". So much for Oprah and OWN.

I've long been fascinated by Arianna Huffington for precisely the reason I mentioned above. She was married to former Republican congressman Michael Huffington, a Texan oil millionaire, and member of the Bush family social circle. She was a textbook social conservative in her former life, courting the religious right in her husband's election campaigns. The marriage lasted until 1997, and a year later, Michael Huffington came out as a bisexual. That revelation would make any woman want to switch teams herself; in Huffington's case, she switched political teams and literally transformed herself.

I recall faint mentions of Arianna Stassinopoulos Huffington during the glory days of the Reagan administration; she was a prominent DC socialite at that time. After that, the next time I heard the name "Arianna Huffington" was when she traded in her Lincoln Navigator SUV for a Toyota Prius because she felt driving SUVs financed terrorism. This was shortly after 9/11, when our "addiction to oil" was at the forefront of our troubles. In 2005, she went online with The Huffington Post, which started out as a meandering blog, used to showcase the verbosity of her celebrity friends. It grew from there to what it is today: a full-fledged Internet newspaper, chock full of the same opinions, but augmented with Sports, Entertainment, Style, Food, Travel, Tech, and many of the other features you find in traditional newspapers.

I like Arianna Huffington. She managed to take lemons and make gallons of lemonade. She's educated, she's written books; she's come a long way from traversing the Beltway, to becoming a formidable woman in a world still dominated by men. She is on the cusp of a "Brand New Media Universe"; so says the current banner of her Web site's home page. I'm cheering for her, because Rupert Murdoch is in need of a serious bitch slap. If anyone could do it, I'm betting it will be Arianna. We have to make peace with the fact that traditional forms of media are most likely doomed. We must forge ahead into new and uncharted territory, but be mindful at the same time of our monopolistic media predecessors. Maybe this is a good thing; it remains to be seen, and I would bet my life that Huffington and AOL are going to try like hell to make inroads into Mr. Murdoch's stranglehold on the right. After all, the dinosaurs became extinct. Those who evolve, survive.

Nava

Super Hype

2011-02-04T17:45:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

What's everyone doing this Sunday? Are you ready for some football?

Yes, it is Super Bowl Sunday, and the world will be watching. Watching everything but football from the looks of it; the pregame festivities, the halftime extravaganza, the post game purchasing of t-shirts and other commodities with "Super Bowl Champions" plastered all over them. By the way, what happens to all the stuff with the wrong team's logo on it? I believe I heard somewhere that it gets donated to charities. I hope so; what a waste if all those t-shirts, sweatshirts and caps never get worn.

I've been thinking for a while now that the Super Bowl has become so much more hype and entertainment, rather than a sporting event. I was debating with my friends at The Perpetual Post, about how the Super Bowl has become about 95% spectacle and 5% sporting event. I told them I would rather sweat through 2-1/2 months of Stanley Cup playoffs to see my team win (not very likely), rather than the one 10 hour extravaganza the Super Bowl has morphed into. If rock concerts were meant to take place at halftime, there would be one during every NFL contest. All pre-game shows would be 6 hours long and the run-up to each game would last for 2 weeks. Then, we could have football year round. I'm fairly certain that would make many people very happy.

Many fans will be savouring every moment of this year's Super Bowl. The NFL players and owners are set to clash, so next season is already in peril. Personally, I'm hoping that the worst happens. I've long believed that retired NFL players have been getting the shit end of the stick when it comes to health benefits and disability. Many of the older guys suffer the long-term effects of the injuries they sustained as players, and the union they belong to does piteously little to help them. I've mentioned before how the HBO sports documentary series, Real Sports has repeatedly reported on the hideous shape many of these ex-players are in, and the lack of empathy the NFL players' union has for them. The present day players are culpable as well, engaging in a shameless money grab, while their predecessors suffer in silence. Maybe, a lockout/strike will do these guys some good; after all, the guys playing gladiator on the field today, might be in even worse shape than the retirees of today. These guys are bigger, stronger, and more vicious now, than they have ever been.

Regardless of what happens with the NFL players and owners, I do hope the Steelers and Packers give it their all on the field on Sunday, despite all the distractions. It is, after all, a game; not a marketing-product placement-musical extravaganza. I don't care about the commercials, I don't care about the halftime show, and I don't care about the merchandise. Those of us who pride ourselves on our mental "athleticism" wish that we had some physical athleticism to go along with it. I never aspired to be a football player, but I have wished for a bit more physical coordination than I possess. Unfortunately, it was not to be. But for those who are blessed, you should make the most of it for as long as possible. Beware of the consequences; a strong mind goes hand-in-hand with a strong body, not a broken one. It's too bad the NFL players' union doesn't agree with that. Here's hoping one day that will change. In the meantime, enjoy the spectacle - I mean, the game.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Nava

Stop the Meter!

2011-02-02T12:25:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

While many people are accepting Jesus Christ as their saviour, mine turned out to be the Internet. This is a tool which is crucial to my making a living, and I'm fairly certain this is the case for a lot of you out there. The Internet changed the world; it is not perfect now, nor do I think it ever will be. Regardless of that, it is here, and we are all, in one way or another, dependent upon its existence.

Recently, the CRTC, the Canadian Radio-television Telecommunications Commission, has decided that metering your Internet usage might be a good idea - along the same lines as metering your gas, water and electricity usage. Now that people are downloading and uploading music, movies, games, pictures, pretty well anything and everything, they've decided that we need to keep track of our gigabytes, much the same as we do kilowatt hours of electricity. That proposal hasn't gone over well here in Canada, mostly because (and I agree with this 100%), we've been told to embrace technology and do everything online. Now, it will cost us much more than we bargained for.

In two weeks time I am moving into new digs. In preparation for my move, I spent well over an hour on the phone with Rogers Communications, my favourite evil Canadian empire, negotiating a package for my Internet and cable television services. Sadly, what I will be paying for high speed Internet, cable television, and my mobile phone, will top out somewhere in the $200 range on a monthly basis. And that's not for their top of the line services. If I wanted those, the bill would be more like $400 a month. If we were to truly live in a virtual world, that would mean eating virtual food, sleeping on virtual beds, and breathing virtual air. Until then, $200 a month is about all I can afford. And barely, if you want to know the truth.

The CRTC's proposal wants to slam Internet users with astronomical "per gigabyte" charges if they go over a certain allotment. Rogers is already doing that with their usage packages, forcing you to cover your virtual ass, unless you want to pay even more for their services. I signed up for 60GB a month, so I think I'm safe. I do not aspire to be a bandwidth hog, but when you consider the fact that there is an entire generation that grew up with the Internet, I can see how that might be a problem. But, that doesn't mean that the solution to the problem has to involve beating people over the head for fees. Cable companies have been doing that for decades, and now that practice is being considered by the Canadian government. As if taxes weren't enough.

I often find myself lamenting how the speed with which technology advances can be pretty scary. Twenty years ago, we barely knew what the Internet was. Now, it is ubiquitous. Maybe we need to categorize it as one of life's certainties; you know, like death and taxes. Death, Taxes, and the Internet. The three things that will always be for certain. How comforting.

Check out OpenMedia.ca to find out more about the CRTC's plans for Internet usage. And sign the petition to stop them from metering usage.

Nava

Going Broke Sending the Very Best

2011-01-31T12:47:00.002-05:00

Greetings Friends,

The Great Electronic Void (how I cheekily like to refer to the Internet) has put a lot of things on the endangered species list. I didn't realize, until yesterday, that greeting cards are one of those things. I wandered into my local Shoppers Drug Mart to pick up a few essentials, and proactively visited to greeting card aisle to grab a few for some February birthdays and Valentines Day. Now, let's be honest: how many of you actually look at the prices of greeting cards? I never have, but I always make a point of turning the card around so the price is visible to the cashier. Yesterday, I almost succumbed to fit of apoplexy when I realized, too late, that I had paid $8.99 for a relatively spartan Valentine's Day card. Since when do greeting cards cost 9 bucks? I can buy a pound of lean ground sirloin for less than that!

For over a decade now, the preferred mode of communication has been e-mail; nobody I know writes letters to anyone, and I personally have three types of instant messaging capabilities loaded into my laptop. Not to mention the 20 or so text messages I get each day. Written communication has become a quaint notion, and now that I've been rudely awakened to the price of greeting cards, I realize these are turning out to be just as quaint as letters. Hell, I just wished a Facebook friend "Happy Birthday" earlier today, but it never dawned on me that greeting cards were almost extinct. Message received; if I have to choose between a greeting card and dinner, the choice is now obvious. And before you start with all the half-price cards and dollar stores out there, I used to be a staunchly loyal Hallmark card sender. Well, read it here first: no more. That goes for all of them. It's come down to principle and my principles are screaming: no more greeting cards no matter what they cost!

There was a lot of online chatter last week about the US Postal Service's decision to shutter about 2,000 post offices to cut costs. Most of them will be in rural American "one stop light" towns where they've been in existence for well over 100 years. It's sad, because not everyone is tech savvy, nor will they endeavor to become so. What blows my mind is that the post office is losing money, despite the advent of e-commerce, Ebay, QVC and all the rest of the cyber-shopping options we're inundated with. There just aren't enough greeting cards being mailed anymore to make up for the fact that we no longer correspond via letters. I've used some of those online "greeting card" sites a few times, but I felt lazy doing so; I mean, how hard is it to go buy a birthday card? Apparently, too hard for a lot of people.

I used to poke fun at all of these so-called "greeting card holidays" like Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day, National Bosses Day...and countless other extraneous days designated in honour of something that is supposed to prompt us to go out and buy greeting cards. I drew the line at Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day. And as a writer, I think the only thing worse that greeting card poetry is mass-produced hotel room art. I know there are many people making an honest living at both, but, again, this is my blog. If the chips were down and I had to take a job writing greeting cards, I would do it; chances are those writers are as endangered as the cards they write for. Sad, but true.

Valentine's Day is two weeks from today; I would start investigating alternatives to that card, box of chocolates and bouquet of roses. The card will get discarded, the chocolates will get eaten, and the flowers will die. Don't say you haven't been warned.

Nava

The Great One Turns 50

2011-01-28T11:52:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

There was a time when looking at a picture of Wayne Gretzky with the Stanley Cup hoisted over his head felt painful. Now, it doesn't bother me. What bothers me is when hockey pundits call the Gretzky-era Edmonton Oilers the greatest hockey dynasty ever. The Mike Bossy-Bryan Trottier-era New York Islanders would have something to say about that. Now that both teams are staring into the abyss, no one really cares anymore. The reason I'm even bringing it up is because Wayne "The Great One" Gretzky turned 50 on Wednesday, and all of Canada is celebrating.

I don't think I've ever fully comprehended just how important Gretzky is to Canadians. He's sort of like Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio and Jackie Robinson all rolled into one. No matter what he does, Canadians will always sit up and take notice. His age is no exception. All I've been hearing for the past couple of days is how it was only yesterday that he laced up the skates for the first time with the Edmonton Oilers; how all his records still stand, even though he's been retired almost 12 years; how all of Canada watched him marry Janet Jones; how hard it was for him to leave Edmonton for the bright lights of LA; how devastating his failure as part owner and head coach of the Phoenix Coyotes has been; how despite all the successes and failures, he'll always be "The Great One".

When I was a kid, there were athletes I considered to be heroes. One of them was Mike Bossy, along with the entire New York Islanders team from 1979, until 1985. I lived, breathed, ate, slept, drank, spoke everything Islanders. Naturally, it was devastating for me to watch Gretzky's Oilers de-throne the reigning 4-time Stanley Cup Champion Islanders. I vowed I would hate him forever. Forever is a long time, and none of us will be around that long. As I am a scant 6 years younger than The Great One, I can say with total honesty that I've mellowed with age. I don't hate him anymore. Yeah, he was a superstar athlete, but during a time when superstar athletes weren't really assholes. Today, it's hard to really like a lot of these guys because most of them have that dominant "asshole" personality trait. Also, I am too old to be worshiping athletes. I still admire them, but I wouldn't fall into a dead faint in front of one. Not even in front of The Great One.

The older I get, the more conscious I seem to be of how old those around me are. If I'm about to turn 44, this person is "x" number of years older or younger than me, is the thought I find floating through my head; even if that person is a total stranger to me. I feel the need to connect my own mortality to that of others around me - like I'm keeping score. I don't think that's a bad thing to do; it serves as a reminder that life is short and we need to make the most of it. I've always assumed that athletes have a particularly difficult time with aging. Look at Brett Favre as an example: the guy refuses to retire. He's not the only star athlete who had trouble leaving the party; many of them can't deal with retirement, even when they know they'll never have to work another day in their lives. I can't imagine what that feels like. When you earn your living literally by the skin of your teeth, and one day, that skin can't perform the way it used to, that realization is more like devastation to a pro athlete.

Gretzky seems to have handled retirement well, with the exception of his disastrous stint as a coach in Phoenix. He'll always be around hockey, whether he likes it or not. Hockey, and Canadians have claimed ownership of him in a way I've never before witnessed. He belongs to us, and a lot of us belong to him. Even though I lived in the US for all of his career, I was always conscious of how he was Canada's property on loan to fickle American hockey fans who will never revere the game as much as Canadians. They gave him up reluctantly, but when he retired (as a New York Ranger), they embraced him once again as one of their own. It's hard for Americans to grasp the kind of "pride of ownership" Canadians take in their successful citizens.

No matter how successful we are, Canadians are always going to live in the shadow of America. Never was that truer than when Gretzky spent the better part of his career playing for teams south of the 49th parallel. Now that we have him back, we're never letting him go. Every one of his milestones and accomplishments will always be celebrated. He will forever be The Great One. I used to rail against the love and admiration people had for him. Now, I embrace it. I understand it. 50 is not that far off for me, and I still have to keep score.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Nava

Holy Chromosome, Batman! I Have a Sister!

2011-01-26T11:09:00.004-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I want all my readers who find Oprah Winfrey annoying to raise their hands. If you do, and don't want to make yourselves known, I understand. Admitting that you can't stand Oprah is tantamount to admitting you hate puppies, kittens and babies. I happen to love all three, but I can't stand Oprah. There; I said it.

For 25 years this woman has made a career (and several boat-loads of money) out of inflicting herself on millions of television viewers five days a week. Now, she's finally decided to move on, but she can't until she showers the world with every last drop of her narcissism. Then it's on to her OWN network of original programming, which includes her protegees, Gayle King, Suze Orman, Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz. It's gonna be a 24 hour a day Oprah extravaganza. Well, it already is, but Canadians are going to have to wait until March 1. This is one Canadian who won't be tuning in.

The problem I've always had with Oprah is that too many people pay attention to her. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against zoning out in front of the television, but the intensity with which millions of her viewers hang on her every word and action really bugs me. It's like, whatever she talked about never existed until she discovered it. Everything from liquid diets, to personal chefs and trainers, books, concepts, illnesses...you name it; if I had a dime for every time someone I know started a sentence with, "I saw on Oprah...", I would OWN my own publishing company.

One of Oprah's latest revelations is her discovery of a half-sister who was given up for adoption when she was a baby. Again, a scenario that never existed until Miss O herself experienced it. I find it hard to believe that "Patricia" is the first person to crawl out of the woodwork and claim sibling status to a particular celebrity. But, it happened to Oprah, so we are all paying attention. Considering the misery of her childhood, I can't say I'm shocked this happened, but it really doesn't make a difference to me. Maybe if I was the one with the "surprise" sibling, I could relate, but I'm not. I'm one of those people who often wonders whether or not my parents brought the right infant home from the hospital; that would certainly explain a lot. Not that I'm losing any sleep over it; plus, I bear too strong of a resemblance to the rest of my family.

I'm a sucker for good reality TV; shows about hoarding, addiction, behavioural disorders - things like that really grab and hold my attention. I'm really not into playing the role of voyeur in the life of someone like Miss O. I don't want a fleet of cars, a stack of cashmere sweaters and a lifetime supply of her favourite moisturizer. I want to be true to myself. Watching Oprah made me feel weak-minded; if I had to listen to her, I had no business listening to myself. If you're a stickler for detail the way I am, credibility is negligible from someone whom the world perceives to have it all. That point was driven home a couple of weeks ago when I happened to tune in to see Suze Orman berating Nadya "Octomom" Suleman while Oprah held her hand. None of us has the capacity to save everyone. Exploiting someone who obviously requires more care than that from a shrill financial advisor and a billionaire talk show host, accomplishes nothing other than to make those with power feel more powerful. Not only is that wrong, it's downright cruel.

I look forward to the day when Oprah signs off the air. Maybe the apocalypse will occur soon after. Maybe this is the one event the Mayans weren't counting on. The loss of Oprah might indeed cause the earth to shift its axis or change its rotational direction. If that happens, so be it. I'll stick my head between my legs, kiss my ass good-bye and feel grateful that I never fell under the spell of Miss O.

Nava

Midnight Blogger

2011-01-25T00:23:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

As the clock struck midnight, I remembered that I never got around to my usual Monday post. I think I'm sort of OCD when it comes to the Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule, but not enough to care that much. What I've been obsessing over, rather, since I posed about American Idol last Friday, is how old some of my favourite performers are. I remember honing in on the classic rockers in the early 80s who were all turning 40, and I remembered that John Lennon, had he lived, would have turned 70 in 2010. I'm not trying to be morbid about the ages of our favourite musicians, but in light of Steven Tyler's perceived inappropriateness, I started wondering just how old some of these "alter cocker" (that's Yiddish for OLD!) rockers actually are.

So, here's another one of my lists:

Gregg Allman (pictured above): 63

Sir Elton John: 63

Eric Clapton: 65

Roger Daltrey: 66

Pete Townshend: 65

Mick Jagger: 67

Keith Richards: 67

Sir Paul McCartney: 68

Robert Plant: 62

Jimmy Page: 67

Steven Tyler: 62

Joe Perry: 60

Don Henley: 63

Glenn Frey: 62

Stevie Nicks: 62

OK, I'm stopping. As old as I feel, I can just imagine how old the people on my list feel. They're all, on average, 20 years older than I am. Most of them don't look like your typical 60-somethings, and for that, I applaud them. I also think heroin might be some sort of magic youth elixir, but I would never try it, or advocate its use. Whatever it is, I think feeling young must have a lot to do with it. Maybe that's something I should try. One thing I really do hate obsessing over is age.

Nava

Idol Worshiper? Not Here.

2011-01-21T14:24:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I'd successfully avoided watching more than a few snippets of American Idol up until the 10th season premier the other night. Part of me was morbidly curious about the deluded minions who actually think they can be the next American Idol. My curiosity was stanched after only one episode, despite the fact that Aerosmith has been one of my favourite bands throughout my life, and Steven Tyler as a judge could have been worth his weight in snickers and guffaws. You know who I think would have been a good candidate for a judge? Gene Simmons. Had it been him, I would have been stuck like a pig in the mud. Much as I've always loved Aerosmith, Gene Simmons and KISS have been my obsession since the 5th grade. Think what you will...

I'm not disputing that American Idol has been phenomenally successful, and that it has produced some legitimately talented individuals. It's just not my cup of tea. I'm usually not one to avert my eyes from a train wreck, but for some reason, watching this show makes me feel as if I have thousands of black flies continuously ripping chunks of my flesh off my body. Seriously; it makes my skin crawl. It hearkens back to an earlier era, and a game show called The Gong Show, a few of you may recall: Three celebrities judged talent, and in the event a contestant sucked huge, they were gonged off the stage. Now that was much more my speed. There was no mistake about it - you sucked, and you left. None of this, well, OK, we'll schlep you out to L.A. and feed your delusions for a bit longer, then tear you down and send the pieces home for you to pick up for the rest of your life. There's a reason why so many of us will only sing in the shower.

Had I been watching all these years, I'd probably would have learned to appreciate the curmudgeonly ways of Simon Cowell. Initial reaction to the latest incarnation of the judging panel has been "kinder" and "gentler", along with outrage at Steven Tyler's mild flirtation with some of the younger contestants. Aerosmith could have opened a lingerie warehouse will all the bras and panties that have been tossed on stage during their concerts. I witnessed said tossing a couple of times over the years. For Tyler, this is just another type of stage. Simon Cowell made a fortune by bitch-slapping whoever would let him, so I really don't get why everyone is so shocked. Then again, I don't get American Idol, period. I believe it is too late for me to join the party. Eventually, all good things must come to an end, and it looks like we need to have to defibrillators on standby.

To all of you who will hang on every minute of every episode, I applaud you. I will keep my spot on the periphery and stick with the snippets. May the best crooner win.

Enjoy your weekend.

Nava

Majority? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Majority!

2011-01-19T18:36:00.002-05:00

Greetings Friends,

We're coming up on the 5 year anniversary of Prime Minister Stephen Harper's minority rule here in Canada, and for some reason, it's been deemed worthy of recognition. Historically, minority rule does not last long in a parliamentary system, but somehow, our "buddy Steve" (how former President George W. Bush was known to refer to him) has made it work.

It's taken me a long time to understand the parliamentary system. It is a form of democracy, but with not as many checks and balances as we find in the United States. For example, the Prime Minister, with the Governor General's (that's the fancy title the Monarch's representative gets to tote around) permission, can pull the plug on Parliament whenever he wants to. Harper did so last year, right before the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, and in late 2009, to avoid a vote of "no confidence" that would have triggered a Federal election. Believe it or not, the Canadian Prime Minister has more power than the US President; it takes a mountain to move Congress, but Parliament can bite the dust with disturbing ease. That's just the way it is.

Canada has many more advantages now than it ever has. For one, the country is in much better shape economically, despite a record deficit and things like universal healthcare and GST. Those are two things that would make the heads of many Americans explode, but here they're just part of life. There are more financial regulations in place that prevented a sub-prime mortgage meltdown, because they weren't offered here to begin with.

Don't get me wrong, Canada has its share of problems, but they pale in comparison to the insurmountable woes south of the border. Sometimes I think the Canadian media needs to conjure up some good old fashioned drama in order to compete on the world stage; life here can be somewhat boring, but at this stage, I'll take boring over drama any day. There is no way Canadian politicos could ever ratchet up the drama to the same level as our southern neighbours. They can scream all they want on the floor of the House of Commons, but it can never match the vitriol and rancor of a divided congress. Yes, a minority parliamentary government has its limitations, but Stephen Harper has proven that you can get things done, despite not having a party majority.

I've never been a huge fan of Stephen Harper, and I wouldn't be so bold as to say he's growing on me, but having endured 8 years of George W. Bush, Canadians should consider themselves lucky that he's nowhere near as volatile, not to mention as dumb, as the 43rd American president. He does have a tendency to be somewhat stiff and milquetoasty, and he'll never win any personality contests. He is an economist by trade, and if anything, he's got the smarts to be where he is. He might not be the guy you would want to shoot the breeze with over a beer, but he probably has a better understanding of finance than most people. The right person for the job might not be the most personable, but especially in a position of power - knowledge counts.

As I bring this somewhat verbose political rambling to a close, I just got an e-mail alert from The Washington Post telling me that the House of Representatives voted to repeal President Obama's healthcare bill. That won't go over well in the Senate, and if ever there was an example of partisan nonsense, especially with one of their own lying in a hospital bed, miraculously recovering from a gunshot wound to the head, I don't know what is. As bad as a minority government can be, it's nothing compared to a divided congress.

As Canada contemplates 5 years of minority Conservative government, I hope they're taking a good, long look at what's going on in the US right now. Surprising as it is for a minority government to have lasted this long, they should be grateful they're not emulating Americans. One civil war was more than enough.

Nava

Blue Monday

2011-01-17T10:17:00.003-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Are you depressed? According to a story on last night's installment of CBC's The National, today is "Blue Monday", so designated by a Welsh psychologist to call attention to the mid-winter blues. Winter is by far the toughest season to endure, and here in the Great White North, it can be especially brutal. The days are snowy and gloomy, it's cold, and generally miserable. I'm not disputing any of that, but I'm not pleased by the inclusion of many "manufactured" depressive elements, such as failure to adhere to New Year's resolutions, overwhelming debt, and distance from the holiday season. That, I'm not buying.

During the holiday season, we do our share of complaining about how stressful it all can be. We breathe a collective sigh of relief when it's all over, but we barely give ourselves a break before we find something new to complain about. It's January 17th, and winter has a good 2-1/2 months left to batter us. Personally, I find the month of March the most difficult to endure, partly because it is such a nondescript month, even though it begins still entrenched in winter, and ends with the arrival of spring. Spring is generally delayed in these parts, until sometime in early May. Blame global warming, or whatever you'd like, but until June, the weather can be as easy to predict as when the "big one" will make Denver waterfront property. You seem to wake up one day and start fiddling with the air conditioner, and, poof! summer has arrived.

There's nothing that peeves me more than the segment of the population that looks to complain for the sake of complaining. I'm not saying depression isn't a legitimate ailment; I know for a fact it is. I can understand how difficult life can be in northern locales where, this time of year, there is maybe an hour or two of daylight at most. That would bother me. I could fill the house with those "Seasonal Affected Disorder" light devices, but I seriously doubt they would help raise my mood. I give people who live in those places credit for persevering during this time of year, because the flip-side is near-24 hours of daylight. That would probably drive me nuts as well, but it beats the alternative. As I said last week, life is a trade-off, and we must decide which unpleasant elements we are willing to endure in order to reap the benefits. Why can't someone embark on that type of study? What are humans willing to put up with in order to enjoy the inherent advantages of their surroundings? That, I'd love to know.

I don't think I'd be happy living in a warm, or tropical locale year round. I've made no secret of how much I can't stand Florida, but having spent time in the Nevada desert in summer time, it wasn't quite so terrible. It all boils down to what you're willing to put up with; for me, humidity is a deal-breaker. Dry heat isn't so bad. I'd be willing to take my chances that I might spontaneously combust.

As January drags on, there is much to look forward to, despite the gloom, cold and snow. It won't be long before we're complaining about how hot it is. Our lot is life is to complain; grousing about the weather knows no particular season. In that, we should find comfort.

Nava

Got Ink?

2011-01-14T18:35:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

It's Friday, it's late, and I worked the day away before I realized I neglected my duties here at Ink & Paint. However, I do have a post up over at Perfume Posse today, combining perfume with a topic I've been ruminating over for about 20 years. It's gotten some pretty good feedback so far, and I think it's worth a read. If you feel so inclined, surf over to Perfume Posse now.

Have a glorious weekend.

Nava

That Bogeyman called "Healthcare"

2011-01-12T13:00:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Thanks to Calvin Gluck for posting an image of his Ontario health card on his blog. Just so you don't think I swiped the actual card from Calvin (I don't know him personally), here's a link to his original blog post about Canadian healthcare. From what I can tell, Calvin was here in Canada on a work visa, and was entitled to coverage under the Ontario Health Insurance Plan (OHIP) while living and working in the province of Ontario.

I have that exact same card in my wallet, right next to my driver's license. Like Calvin, I have to admit that it provides me with significant peace of mind, knowing that my tax dollars are giving me something useful. I haven't had occasion to use my OHIP card often; there was one instance last year when my ornery, but lovable cat Lily, swatted me, and left a bloody eye in her wake. A trip to the nearest walk-in clinic, a 5 day course of anti-biotic and a tetanus shot later, I was ever so grateful for that OHIP card. No co-pays, no deductibles, and no astronomical emergency room bills to contend with. Unlike a trip to a Nassau County, NY hospital emergency room, which consisted of a diagnosis of kidney stones, a $500.00 deductible, and a fraudulent $5,200.00 bill issued by some scammer at the hospital, claiming that I didn't have insurance coverage at the time of treatment. I passed the kidney stones 24 hours later, but the fraudulent bill took significantly longer to rectify.

I'm not naive enough to believe that Canada's universal healthcare system is perfect. It's far from it. It's shocking sometimes to look down at a receipt for something I've purchased to see 13% sales tax added on to the cost of the item. But, I'll live with it, considering the thousands of dollars I've paid for health insurance over the course of my life, and what I have gotten in return: more grief and aggravation than any actual healing. That's the thing about insurance companies - you think they're there to provide you with peace of mind, but really, what they're doing is scaring you into paying them larcenous premiums on the off-chance you should ever need their assistance. And if you find yourself in need of their assistance because you have a chronic health condition you must contend with, they really show you the love by threatening to drop your coverage. That leaves you high and dry because you won't be able to get insurance from another provider due to your "pre-existing" condition.

Anyone who isn't targeting liberal politicians by scribbling crosshairs over their districts, knows that the insurance industry lobby is one of the most powerful in Washington. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out why President Obama's healtcare bill was watered down like a bottle of speed-rack vodka; including the removal of the government option. Everyone was fearful of the government "death panels" and the rationing of surgeries and other treatments because they were all going to be on the government's dime. No one ever mentioned the millions of Americans who are forced into bankruptcy because of catastrophic illnesses and inadequate insurance coverage. Not to mention the millions of Americans who cannot afford health insurance at all. And what about the millions of people trapped in dead-end jobs because they refuse to give up their benefits?

Wherever you live, there are always going to be trade-offs. Here in the Great White North, I might have to wait a little longer for a non life-threatening procedure, but if I need it, I know I'll get it. I don't have to rely on my employer for health care; good thing, since I'm self-employed. And if, God forbid, I have to contend with a catastrophic illness, I know there won't be some ghoul from my insurance company standing watch over how much their profits are shrinking on account of my misfortune. Best of all, there are no Canadian politicians at risk because of unpopular government healthcare policies. Generations of Canadians have come to rely on the universal healthcare system, and most of them will tell you, they wouldn't trade it for what Americans have - ever. For me, that's even more comforting than my OHIP card.

Nava

Tea-Stained Vitriol

2011-01-10T10:48:00.003-05:00

Greetings Friends,

First, let me say that I am a fan of neither the US or Canadian governments. But, I'm not going out to buy a Glock and start shooting people. The vast majority of people will follow the same path as me. It's always the one exception that manages to ruin it for the rest of us.

The details are still unfolding as I write this, but the facts are these: Arizona Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords is lying in a hospital bed after being shot in the head by 22 year-old Jared Loughner. Federal Judge John Roll was killed, supposedly for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A 9 year-old girl named Christina-Taylor Green was also killed. This is an unspeakable tragedy, perpetrated by an individual who had a beef with the US government. A lot of people are not happy with the state of government, but that doesn't give them the right to go out and kill people. Last time I checked, murder was against the law; lately, more harm than good has come from all the political rhetoric in the mainstream, so it was only a matter of time before someone paid the ultimate price for all the crazy-talk.

It's one thing to exercise your right to vote in a democratic society, but to combine it with violence-tinged campaign rhetoric is just plain wrong. The use of gun-related euphemisms, such as Sarah Palin's "Don't retreat; reload", and her use of cross hairs in images on her Web site may or may not have incited violence among right wing Americans. Their use was completely inappropriate, not to mention disturbing. We've spent enough time bastardizing the First and Second Amendments of the Constitution, and now 6 individuals are dead, and about a dozen others are injured because of it. Threats against politicians have increased exponentially. Why? Because a bunch of ignorant Americans are afraid of the government having a say in their health care. Give a certain segment of the population any excuse to insert a firearm into the equation, and this is what you get.

I come from a place where guns were never a part of my life. I understand that's not the case for all of us. Our life experiences notwithstanding, none of us has the right to take the responsibility of gun ownership lightly. We all bear the burden of responsibility for places where gun laws are lax and liberal (for lack of a better term), by giving access to people who in no way deserve to have it. The irresponsibility of soft gun laws gives access to people like Jared Loughner, and Seung-Hui Cho, who legally purchased guns, but had no business doing so. The gun laws in the states of Virginia and Arizona allowed this to happen. And if nothing is done to shore up soft gun laws, this will keep happening again, and again, and again. The NRA can squawk all it wants about how "people kill people, not guns", but the reality is, the person is pulling the trigger of, you guessed it: A GUN.

There will be much more rhetoric about this tragedy in the coming days, and by writing a blog entry, I am contributing to it. I realize that is my right, as both a Canadian and an American citizen. Much as I'd like to place the blame squarely on the head of Sarah Palin, I can't do that. There are many forces at play here, especially the profound ignorance that runs rampant through both the US and Canada.

It's too much to expect to believe everyone pays attention to what exactly it is government does, but too many are focused on what it is government does wrong. The 24 hour news cycle doesn't help, nor do loudmouth, ignorant agenda pushers like Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck, Sean Hannity and Keith Olbermann. Yeah, Olbermann belongs in that group because, even the left has its loudmouths. I don't even know how to categorize Sarah Palin; I just hope she goes away. If there is anything good that could possibly come out of this horrific scenario, it would be for her to crawl under a glacier, never to be heard from again. Like remedying ignorance, that might be a bit too much to ask.

My heart goes out to the people who were affected by Saturday's tragedies. My fear is that, going forward, things will get much worse before they get better. The underlying reasons for why this happened are speculative at best, and although I have an opinion, I don't think it is appropriate for me to share it at this time. What I will say is that I consider myself lucky to have both an American and a Canadian perspective about things like government, health care, and the cultural differences between the two countries. Having this perspective makes me understand why things like single-payer health care and liberal government can be scary, but at the same time, they have their advantages. Change can be a tough thing, but if you open your mind, and do your homework, you can embrace it, just like anything else. How I wish more people felt that way.

Nava

Do You Care About Your Content?

2011-01-07T13:34:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I had lunch with "Lord Geek" the other day, and the main topic of conversation was, how important is content to a Web site? L.G. definitely resides on the dark side, because he told me that link building has content beat by a country mile. That's not exactly what any writer wants to hear, particularly as this is how I've chosen to make my living. I've vowed to find a way to make content matter just as much, if not more than visibility. Of course visibility is important; who wants to write amazing content if nobody is going to read it? So therein lies the conundrum: how do you get the world to care about content, as much as they care about pleasing Google? I haven't yet figured that out.

There are countless blogs and Web sites out there that have absolutely atrocious content. The untrained eye may not notice, but the trained eyeballs (mine) pop out of their sockets every time they read content that's grammatically incorrect, stuffed with SEO keywords and was probably written by someone in Manila who is severely underpaid and under appreciated. Bad content is like those bags of Chinese-made gym socks for $1.99 you buy at Wal Mart. You wash them twice, then your big toe shreds them on the third wearing. You're definitely not getting your money's worth.

Ever since I started this blog, I have deliberately refrained from writing about SEO and other technical subjects because I find them boring. Also, opinions are like assholes; everyone has one. Talk to 6 people about SEO, and 6 people will tell you they've got it all figured out. Talk to me, and I'll tell you, yeah, I've got a firm grasp on it, but there's a lot about it that I have yet to unpack. I have this annoying habit of relating a lot of what I find in life to great novels and other forms of literature. For instance, a Facebook friend of mine posted the other day about how much he hated the series finale of The Sopranos. I happened to love it. Why? Because the ambiguity of it left us with a lifetime of "what ifs" and a million different interpretations of what it meant. The beauty of an ambiguous ending is that it makes you think. Life itself rarely wraps up into nice, neat little packages. Television shows have always done that; when one came along that didn't, we got angry. We weren't given a definitive ending. Read the great novel The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James and you'll understand what I'm talking about. Study the work of John Milton and you might get where I'm going with SEO. Laugh at me all you want, but it takes more than a geek to make all this work. The geeks of the world need help from people like me. And heaven only knows where all this might take us.

The playing field is constantly shifting, and we all need to have our game faces on 24/7. That's why Ink & Paint is evolving. Remember, if we don't evolve, we become extinct; and I for one am by no means ready to leave the party. I've got so much I want to accomplish; I hope you'll all be coming along for the ride.

Do me a favour: read a few Web sites - I mean, really read them. And drop a comment here to let me know what you find.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Nava

New and Exciting

2011-01-05T11:33:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

The domain name, inkandpaitcreativewriting.com, has been purchased. The next step will be expanding the blog. It's in the works; it's happening; it's so exciting!

In the meantime, enjoy Jessica Rabbit singing at The Ink & Paint Club, from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? See you on Friday.

Nava

The Great Epidemic

2011-01-03T13:15:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I've been waiting in the weeds to broach the subject of the disturbingly epidemic numbers of divorces in the news lately. Every day, you read about yet another celebrity couple calling it quits, and the trend shows no signs of slowing down. What is it about marriage that makes it impossible for people to stay together anymore? It's an almost asinine question to be asking, given that 1 in 2 marriages is doomed to fail. I tried to tackle that question by relating it to the celebrity factor in a piece I wrote for The Perpetual Post, but I don't think I really did the topic justice. Yes, many of us go out of our way to emulate our favourite celebrities, but do we really want to emulate them so much, that we will divorce our spouses because that is what they do? Ultimately, I don't believe there is a concrete answer to that question, but divorce has become so ubiquitous amongst the common folk that I do scratch my head in wonder on occasion.

For the past few months I've been hanging out with a divorced cousin of mine, the majority of whose friends number among the walking wounded. They all got married in their late 20s or early 30s, had kids, and are now residing in "Splitsville". Of course the "coulda, woulda, shoulda" laments are plentiful, and as a woman, I can't help but wonder what the opposite spouse has to say about their role in the demise of the union. Neither party is ever totally blameless, and the writer in me is always hankering to hear both sides. Since I do not have access to the "exes", I am prone to make certain assumptions, which I know I shouldn't do. Men scorned are no different from women scorned, and when you don't hear both sides of the story, you begin to sympathize with the one side you are privy to.

The one component of this scenario that surprises me is the ease with which the female halves of these broken relationships have moved on to new relationships that are supposedly on the fast-track to marriage. The men, however, are out there on the myriad online dating sites, having coffee, drinks and the occasional hook-up, but nothing more serious than that. Is it because despite the failure of one union, women still ultimately yearn for that "happily ever after" togetherness? Or, are they just incapable of surviving on their own? Since I cannot speak to any of this from personal experience, it has become the great mystery of my current station in life. These particular men all seem to have positive qualities to offer a potential partner, but their intial forays into matrimony all ended in disaster. Does this prove the hypothesis that humans aren't meant to be monogamous? Is romance the great societal myth?

I'm not attempting to start the New Year off on a cynical note; this is just my usual writerly inquisitiveness getting the better of me. I have no wish to dissect relationships a la Dr. Phil or Oprah; I am genuinely curious as to why relationships are so combustible. In my former life, many of the married couples I knew are still together. In my present circumstances, most of them have been torn asunder. As we forge further ahead into the 21st century, I find myself contemplating what the future holds for matrimony, along with many other things. This seemed as good a place to start as any. Stay tuned...

See You Next Year

2010-12-28T11:50:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

There isn't another image I can think of that epitomizes New Year's Eve more than Times Square. And yes, I stood there one year, when I was 16, in the freezing cold, to watch the ball drop. I won't say which year, but the ball has since gotten schmaltzier, and the event a little too hokey for my comfort level. Back then, there was no stage, no musical act, no Ryan Seacrest standing on a platform freezing his California cookies off. I liked it better that way. Now I can barely tolerate it, and, as much as I hated watching Dick Clark do his countdown back then, it saddens me to see him attempt it in his current physical state. It reminds me that time does not stand still; it passes, all too quickly.

2011 is a few days away, and this rare Tuesday post will be my last for the year. I'm a day late because I really couldn't bear to devote a post to what a slacker I feel like right now. Starting this blog was one of the best things I did in 2010, and as I've mentioned, there are great things ahead for Ink & Paint in the new year. Slacking off during this last week of the year isn't such a bad thing; the shame would be if I left behind the painful lessons learned, the defeats and missteps, and ultimately the victorious moments of the past year. I will carry them with me, and keep them front and centre in my memory, to guide me on to a more prosperous 2011.

Remember what I said about charity; and remember, above all else, to be true to yourself. When you lay your head on your pillow at night, sleep peacefully. If you can't, ask yourself why.

Happy New Year.

Nava

The Real Reason For the Season

2010-12-24T11:20:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

The above image is of the painting "Charity" by sixteenth century artist, Cecchino Del Salviati. It hangs in the Uffizi in Florence, a place I hope to get to one day. In the meantime, I can gaze at it whenever I want, and think about the real meaning of charity.

To be charitable is to give of yourself without any expectation of reciprocity. You do it from the heart, even if it might not be the smartest move you've ever made. You do it out of sincerity and the true spirit of goodwill. Charity is never accompanied by empty platitudes, and it does not always involve money. Those who are truly charitable understand that a smile, a nod, or a knowing look count as charitable acts. Even if the recipient of a charitable act is lacking in gratitude, or the decency to at least say "thank you", you can feel good about yourself knowing that you did the right thing. The Jewish people call acts of charity "mitzvahs". When you perform a mitzvah, you know it. That's the most important part.

All the kidding about food, shopping, presents and assorted other "asshattery" aside, we need to remember to always be charitable. That's the real reason for the season.

Merry Christmas.

Nava

I Hate My iPod

2010-12-22T11:57:00.003-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I absolutely detest my iPod. It looks just like the one pictured above, has over 2,600 songs on it, and I hate it. Why? Because I am trying valiantly to transfer all 2.600 songs into my iTunes library on my laptop, and am having no success. Why? Because Apple will not allow you to retrieve songs from an iPod that were not purchased on iTunes. Out of the 2,600 songs on my iPod, only 430 of them were purchased on iTunes. The rest are stuck in limbo. Nice. Thank you Apple.

Of course, there are a million "supposed" ways to retrieve your remaining music, but apparently, I am not enough of a geek to figure them out. Or, I am enough of a geek to figure them out, but they just don't work on Windows 7. Or (and this is my favourite), I could spend $25 to download a program that tells me it will retrieve all my music with one click of a mouse. Needless to say I am skeptical. And pissed off. Just as I was thinking I have fully embraced technology, I once again find myself loathing it, and the obstacles it creates, and the time I spend trying to overcome them. I've watched about a dozen YouTube videos, each one depicting a different method to retrieve my music. The four I tried did not work. I know my geek colleagues are going to read this, laugh their collective asses off and call me a "dino" for not being able to figure it out. Hey - at least I tried. Then, I will eventually go, hat, laptop and iPod in hand, to meet one of them, they will perform this musical extraction quickly and painlessly, and I will feel like an impotent ass. I can see it happening.

It is a cold comfort knowing that technology is here in our midst to outsmart us no matter how hard we try to understand it. Some of it has become easier to decipher, but there are always going to be those elements that will flummox you, leaving you frustrated enough to embark on a good old fashioned hair-pulling, foot-stomping, screaming tirade. That was me the other night, after about 2-1/2 hours of attempting to retrieve my music. I have reluctantly given up for the time being, and decided to take to my blog to see if anyone has any suggestions on how to rescue my music. Please, feel free to call me a "dino"; I deserve it.

The hero or heroine who comes to my rescue will receive honourable mention here at Ink & Paint. And my iPod, for posterity. I've got my eye on a 32GB iPhone 4. After all, I must march on into the technological unknown, waging war until I divide and conquer.

Nava

The Manson Family

2010-12-20T12:33:00.003-05:00

Greetings Friends,

It may be an analogy in poor taste, but I can't help thinking about the state of family as it compares to the Manson Family. Yes, they were all certifiable, and they committed heinous crimes at the behest of their whack job leader. But really, at holiday time there are bound to be more than a few of us who find ourselves thinking we all have a little "Manson" in our families.

I have to admit I've been indirectly obsessed with the Manson Family for about a month now, since I watched an installment of the documentary series The Passionate Eye on CBC. The subject was Roman Polanski, who was married to the actress Sharon Tate, who was murdered by members of the Manson Family. This particular doc was a fascinating account of Polanski and his famous sexual misstep, and all the subsequent legal wrangling that has kept him a fugitive from justice in the United States for over 30 years. The tidbit I honed in on was the fact that all his troubles started after Tate's murder. She was 8-1/2 months pregnant when she was killed, and there was footage depicting a devastated Polanski at her funeral. I was an infant when all this happened, and didn't comprehend the who, what, where and why until many years later. I remember the assassination attempt on former President Gerald Ford, but the name "Squeaky Fromme" did not resonate with me at the time. Now, you can put me in front of a documentary of just about anything and you have my complete attention. At the moment, my favorite genre is anything out of the 60s and 70s; the 70s especially, since the older I get, the more I seem to be longing for the innocence of childhood and the indifference to the familial dynamic, and all its associated bullshit.

The holidays mean one other thing besides food and presents: the unavoidable contact with family members you normally eschew, with the exception of weddings, bar mitzvahs, funerals and Christmas. Those are some of the most unavoidable scenarios where you find yourself in a room full of people you would probably like to murder; if committing murder happened to be legal. Instead, you suck it up and deal with it. Your blood pressure rises, and you are likely to have a bit too much to drink, all in the name of having to deal with the stress of seeing people you genuinely loathe.

I'm not suggesting that everyone comes from a Manson Family. I believe you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who loves their entire family - even those fringe relatives whom you don't see very often. It's perfectly normal to have one or two (or half a dozen) questionable relations you'd rather not associate with. We've all got them. It's when your immediate relations fall into that category that you want to dive under a rock and hide there for all eternity. Those are the people for whom this time of year is particularly difficult. I'm not just talking about superficial political and philosophical differences; when those nearest and supposedly dearest are a bunch of people you just cannot stand, you want to swallow a potent sleeping pill now, and wake up on January 2nd.

The older I get, the more I realize how tricky it is to be part of a family. In some cases, you've got to do some serious cramming to ensure you watch every last "P" and "Q" at holiday gatherings. Further to that, you must also be aware who resides in which camp, and who's got a beef with whom. It's all so senseless and exhausting to keep track of. The larger the family, the more "mishegas" you have to deal with. The longer I live, the more I want to say, "thanks, but no thanks". It's true that you reach a certain point when you just want people to be straight with you, and tell it like it is. Same goes for family. Let us please cease the game playing and the side taking and the declaring of wars. None of us will live forever, and none of us are taking anything with us. The sooner we learn those lessons, the happier we will be. In the meantime, we'll just pick a corner of the room, stay there, and count the minutes until we can escape.

In all honesty, I dislike having these negative feelings when it comes to family, but I've known enough people and heard enough stories to know I am not the only one who feels this way. A notable character from one of my favourite television series referred to this time of year as "Stressmas". She happened to be a shrink on the show, so she knew what she was talking about. Well, whoever wrote the lines for her character knew the deal. All the gathering, eating, giving and taking add up to one thing for a lot of us: misery. Sad, but infinitely true.

Nava

Beached Whale Buffet

2010-12-17T20:27:00.001-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Anyone in the Toronto area who loves Chinese food knows the Mandarin Chinese Buffet restaurants. Certain members of my family won't go near them with grappling hooks in their mouths, because the propensity for gluttony is too great and the quality of the food too low. I hadn't been to one in years until tonight. And I got every penny's worth of my $23.99 plus HST. Right now I feel about 13 months pregnant, and the only way I'll be sleeping tonight is on my back. Good thing I was starving before I got there.

Buffets are a very popular dining out experience here in the Great White North and people flock to them as if they were about to eat their last supper. I've never been a big fan for precisely the reasons stated above, but these days I am neither too proud or too picky. The Mandarin has that kind of Vegas buffet feel to it, with koi ponds in the lobby and blinking neon fish on the walls of the dining room. The food is OK for the most part, and once in a while, it's not bad to indulge. Overeating is another matter entirely, but this too shall pass. It was fun, indulgent, and I won't be doing it again for a long time.

In the meantime, the leap I mentioned the other day is in full swing. More about that soon. For now, enjoy your weekend. Stay out of the malls and off the roads if at all possible.

Nava

Leap Before You Look

2010-12-15T11:16:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I'm watching the Leafs play the Edmonton Oilers right now (fortified by a cup of very strong tea). Oilers rookie Linus Omark and his hot dogging are still the hot topic. I thought I'd keep the topic of leaping before looking alive by taking the bull by the horns - no pun intended - and addressing it.

Who among us hasn't made an impulsive decision now and again? I've made them plenty of times, and my gut has betrayed me on a number of occasions. But here's what I've figured out: the leaps I've made that have been totally self-reliant have worked out well. The leaps I've made at the behest of others, against my better judgment, have been disastrous. Lesson learned? You betcha.

I find myself at the precipice of yet another leap. It doesn't involve anyone other than me, and I'm thinking about going for it. There are drawbacks, of course, as there are with any leap; my gut is telling me it's the right move. It is a move that will give me a greater degree of independence, confidence and self-esteem. I'm a nervous wreck, but I have a good feeling about this one. It will be a rough go and ultimately one I think will be worth it in the long run. Let's invoke a few of my favourite cliches: nothing is ever easy; anything worth doing is worth doing right; if it was easy, everyone would do it; go big or go home. Well, big doesn't literally apply in this case, but in my opinion, it's as big a leap as any I've taken in a very long time. So, I'm going for it.

A recent disastrous leap of faith I made has left me extremely distrustful. I know that will pass, eventually, and in order to put that error in judgment behind me, I need to take another leap to get my groove back. If it fails, I have only myself to answer to, and that's the way it should be. Never let anyone tell you they have your back; you have to have your own back.

Here I stand. Stay tuned.

Nava

Somebody Couldn't Hit the Hot Dog

2010-12-13T11:26:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

In case you didn't hear the big boom (maybe all the snow blowing around muffled it), it was the collective heads of the Canadian sports media exploding over Linus Omark's very first NHL goal:

It was his first NHL game, and his first NHL goal. If the kid goes on to be the second coming of Mike Bossy, the NHL should thank its lucky stars. If he goes on to have a whiney, you-should-bend-over-and-kiss-my-ass-for-being-here career like Wayne Gretzky, there will be monuments erected of him in front of every ice rink in Canada. We have reached the point, even in the sports media, where we can't just bask in the magic of the moment; we have to ridicule the kid for having a bit of style and flair in a game that has become so freakin' milquetoasty, I have to down one of those 5 Hour Energy drinks before tuning in to Hockey Night in Canada. I hate to say this, but if not for Mike Milbury and Don Cherry, it would be a bona fide snore-fest.

Speaking of asses, 1,500 hockey fans from Quebec City travelled to Long Island this past Saturday to watch the Islanders play the Atlanta Thrashers. They wanted to show the Nebbishy Little Hobbit from Queens, aka NHL commish Gary Bettman, that they want a team back in QC to replace the long lost Quebec Nordiques, who have since gone on to fame as the Colorado Avalanche. What no one bothered to tell these people, in addition to the fact they should have gone to a Rangers game instead, is that Bettman gives even less of a toss about the Islanders than he does about awarding the fans of Les Nordiques another team. The Canadian media was all over this story, as soon as they finished slamming Linus Omark.

This isn't "rocket surgery", folks. Sad, but true.

Nava

What do You Collect?

2010-12-10T10:36:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

If you're a fan of the TLC show "Hoarders", you know "collecting" can get you into trouble. There's a distinct difference between someone who hoards possessions and someone who collects things. The lines can definitely become blurred, especially when you find yourself trapped in a corner of your home with little space for anything else besides your possessions. When your loved ones have to stage an intervention and the number, 1-800-GOT-JUNK needs to be called, you know you've got a problem.

Does good old fashioned collecting always turn into hoarding? Not always. I like to collect books and perfume. Actually, let me rephrase that: I LOVE to collect books and perfume. Do I have many books? Yes. Do I have many perfumes? Guilty. I answered "guilty" to having many perfumes because there are some people I know who believe I am somewhat odd for collecting them. I always say, "I gotta be me." I've met many intelligent women and men over the years who love scent, and are intrigued by the way fragrance is created. To me, and to them, there isn't a difference between a great perfume and a great painting. Sure, you hang art on your walls, but how many people realize, when they dab or spray their favourite scents, that they are also wearing art on their skin? I'll save you the history lesson about Cleopatra bathing in milk and anointing herself with oils of frankincense and myrrh. This is not about Cleopatra or any other historical figure. It's about collecting what makes you happy.

When I was a kid, I collected stationery. I really didn't have many people to write to, but I loved all the pretty paper and envelopes. I started collecting fragrances when I was in my 20s. My mother loved her scents, and I've written about how her love of fragrance impacted me as I grew up. I'm not sure if my mother appreciated scent as an art form; I think for her it was another accessory, like shoes or a purse. Me, I admire the talent of the perfumer, and the combination of notes that mesh together seamlessly to form a great scent. Contrarily, I'm not the biggest fan of bottles; even though I chose an image of schmaltzy perfume bottles for this post.

Getting back to the spotlight on hoarding: I've watched many episodes of "Hoarders"; enough to be able to distinguish someone who has a psychological issue, from someone who is a "collector". Jerry Seinfeld collects Porsches; countless anonymous individuals collect shot glasses, key chains, beer steins, whatever...I collect perfume. So there. Maybe my hobby is a little more esoteric and cerebral than most, but hey - it's mine. I'd rather collect perfume than collect dust. What do you collect?

Have a great weekend.

Nava

Season's Eatings

2010-12-08T11:06:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Everyone thinks the "reason for the season" is peace, love, joy, happiness, understanding, Jesus, what have you. Each person you ask will have a different answer. And don't for a minute think that anyone who gives you the "Jesus" answer hasn't been battling their way through crowded shopping malls to get everyone on their list the perfect gift. I know, that's my cynicism talking, but I believe what I believe. The reason for the season, besides the stressful acquisition of gifts needing to be wrapped, is food.

This post is not going in the direction you think it is; what I've been ruminating on are cleanses. Not enemas, but those juice fasts people go on that are supposed to leave you clean as a whistle. In particular, I stumbled onto CoolerCleanse, a company founded by Eric Helms, the man behind Juice Generation, apparently a New York City juicing institution (I sure as heck never heard of it), and the actress Salma Hayek. Their cleanse consists of fruit juices and nut milks, 6 bottles of which you must ingest, in a certain order, for 3 or 5 days, in order to achieve the desired results. What, pray tell, are the desired results? Honestly, I am afraid to ask. My idea of a cleanse is to eat about a dozen and a half White Castle hamburgers and not wander too far from the nearest bathroom. That particular "cleanse" has been known to cure what ails ya. But, I don't think it would be rubber-stamped by the minions of raw food eaters who will not ingest a morsel unless it is found in the unadulterated, organic state it was grown in.

By the looks of all these raw food eaters, and people like Salma Hayek, all this cleansing and raw food eating seems to be working. They look amazing, they swear they feel amazing, but even though they're not using their ovens, they remain slaves to the kitchen with all the preparation involved in their raw food lifestyles. There are even charlatan "doctors" running around claiming that raw food diets can cure cancer. I'm not disputing the fact that eating well and living a healthy lifestyle can do us all good, but the bullshit that goes along with it kind of turns me off. For example, if you want to become a "CoolerCleanser", you must invest a minimum of $58 per day and receive two deliveries of fresh juices. As I mentioned, the cleanses only last for 3 or 5 days, but I'm thinking that you're not going to run to McDonalds the second you slurp down that last bottle of Brazil nut milk. Right...you're supposed to eat a diet of raw and vegan foods before beginning the juice cleanse, and after completing it - for $72 a day.

We all know that leading a healthy lifestyle can be expensive. We also know how polluted the food supply is with antibiotic and hormone enhanced factory farmed animals and genetically modified produce. But, where is there a happy medium? How do we go from White Castle and McDonalds to collard-wrapped enchiladas and carrot, beet and Fuji apple juice? Is the answer in the image above? If you're Martha Stewart, it is; if you're me, the answer is somewhere closer to White Castle and McDonalds. It's not that I deliberately try to abuse my body by feeding it garbage, I just wish there was less garbage out there for me to eat, and more healthy stuff that isn't going to chain me to a juicer or leave me listening for the doorbell twice a day. What is the answer? Like the "reason for the season", everybody has a different one. Mine is, I don't know. You put a plate of holiday food in front of me, I'll eat it; You put a bottle of "essential green" or "essential red" juice, or a plate of "young coconut" Pad Thai in front of me, I'll eat that, too. So what's the problem? By the way, I haven't had a White Castle hamburger in over a decade.

Maybe, one day, I'll see the light and try a cleanse. Now is not the time. The life of a writer is one of stress, deadlines and solitude. Those three things can make you crazy, but I'm a bit too skeptical to think that juice is going to cure me of all that. But if a basket of holiday goodies happens to land on my doorstep, I wouldn't hesitate to bring them inside. A cooler bag full of fresh-pressed juices and some raw food? Not interested. At least not right now.

Nava

R.I.P. Elizabeth Edwards: After just reading last weekend that her cancer had metastasized, and she was out of treatment options, I read that Elizabeth Edwards, ex-wife of ex-vice presidential candidate (among other things) John Edwards, passed away yesterday at the age of 61. I always hate to hear of anyone succumbing to cancer, because I've lost a number of friends and family members to this dreaded disease. News of her death hit me particularly hard because I continue to watch a number of loved ones struggle with this insidious illness. My heart goes out to her children, especially her two youngest. It is always tough to lose a parent, no matter how old you are, but for young children, the loss is especially brutal. With her courageous battle behind her, may she rest in peace.

Monday Night Blogging; Like Monday Night Football - NOT!

2010-12-06T18:13:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

It's been another one of those days today; too much work and not enough time to blog. But, I will give you the latest and greatest info on all my projects, just so you don't think I'm sitting here playing Windows solitaire and streaming QVC all day long. Canada's Shopping Channel is really lame.

Speaking of Monday Night Football, I guess I need to acknowledge the passing of "Dandy" Don Meredith. I was more of a fan of his Lipton tea commercials, but I know there are countless NFL fans mourning his loss right now.

So here goes:

Still working on what has to be the largest Canadian tool and machinery web site on the Internets. I've been at it since July and there is no end in sight. The only thing I could compare it to would be if I had to SEO every page on Sephora.com. Perfumista and beauty product junkie that I am, it would probably make me just as crazy.

Would you buy an engagement ring on the Internets? Believe it or not, people do. And I'm working on a site on which you can click and order an engagement ring.

Working on a plumbing web site, I've learned that yes, you can lower a basement. The question is, why would you want to? The answer to that is, it can stabilize your home's foundation especially if you're in the middle of renovating. I've also learned about "trenchless" pipe replacement, which is very similar to having a colonoscopy. Actually, it's more like installing an in-ground sprinkler system, and there are pipes and a camera involved.

Need a mortgage? Only here in Canada, not in the US. New immigrants are also eligible.

Yes, Virginia, someone has managed to use the word "sofa" as an acronym. That's about all I'm able to say right now.

Additionally, there are articles, press releases and other projects abound. Who knew this writing stuff would keep me so busy?

See you on Wednesday.

Nava

'Tis the Season to Be an Asshat

2010-12-03T18:48:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

When Adam Sandler referred to Hanukkah as "eight crazy nights", I'm sure he wasn't counting on some wingnut trying to sell a $25.00 doll, the Lalaloopsy pictured above, for $56,000.00 on ebay. Nor would anyone who celebrates a non-commercialized version of Christmas (realistically, is there anyone?) be willing to pay such an exorbitant amount for a doll. Thanks to one of my Facebook friends, I was made aware of the ridiculousness of this particular brand of "asshattery" one individual is indulging in.

This is yet another example of something I will not dignify with a link. The individual is attempting to sell a similar Lalaloopsy doll with a starting bid of $35,000.00 and a "Buy it Now" price of $56,000.00. Before this nugget landed on my Facebook page, I'd never even heard of a Lalaloopsy. As a matter of fact, earlier today I was listening to what I thought were two "lalaloopsy" university students discussing their lives. I thought that was about as "lalaloopsy" as my day was going to get until I became aware of this auction.

The person attempting to perpetrate this auction apparently wants to reduce her "debit" - I'll assume she means "debt" - as well as reduce her job status to part time so she can spend more time with her grandchildren, as well as spend 2-3 days a week volunteering in her community. Well, honey, I'd love to lock myself away in a spiffy little one bedroom cabin in Ranier, Washington - yes I saw Linda Evans on Oprah yesterday - and get to work on that novel of mine that I swear will be even greater than those by Henry James, Edith Wharton and Ernest Hemingway combined. Alas, I do not have the scratch at the moment for that particular endeavour, so I must do what the rest of the normal folk do, which is WORK! One day, before my brain cells and my tits fall into my shoes, I hope I can realize that dream, but for now, it's just a dream. The thought of attempting to sell the $25.00 hot toy of the season for as much as a down payment on a decent sized house is just pure, unadulterated asshattery. I must admit, "asshat" and "asshattery" are now my two newest favourite words (even though they're not really words), and I intend to use them as often as possible.

What happened to the "good old days" when you worked for what you wanted? I remember the Cabbage Patch Doll, Tickle Me Elmo and Wii frenzies that whipped parents up into the tizziest of tizzies in their quests to hunt these toys down, cost be damned. In a way, it's admirable to want to give your children what they want, if you're able to, but if you can't, you don't, and your kids will just have to get over it. Whether it's because you just don't have the means to obtain the particular item, or it just cannot be had, it's done. But, to deliberately perpetrate a "please help me so I can help others" plea is the star atop the Christmas tree of asshattery. Maybe Grandma should just consider herself lucky to be where she is in life, and settle for doing the best she can for her grandchildren and her community, within her present set of circumstances. Or, perhaps she should take take that Lalaloopsy doll she bought, return it to WalMart or Toys R Us, take the $25.00 and go buy some lottery tickets. Like the ads in New York say, "Hey, You Never Know". Trying to parlay $25.00 into $56,000.00 on ebay is more asshattery than anyone should have to endure. Well, except for trying to sell off internal organs, which I believe is no longer permitted. In any case, Grandma Asshat should just go away; immediately if not sooner.

I was originally planning to post about how some people are givers and some are takers. Generosity and "schnorring" are two very different modes of behaviour and they both can get a person into trouble if they're not careful. To try to get something for nothing is the ultimate act of "schnorring", and Grandma Asshat and her Lalaloopsy doll is probably the best example of "schnorring" I've seen in a very long time. The person who would even consider bidding on that doll is an even bigger asshat than she is. To give someone something for what is nothing more than an altruistic facade of grandkids and volunteerism is just plain stupid. I pity the fool who falls for it. What I hope for is that ebay will take the auction down, and bar Grandma Asshat from ever doing business on the site again. Merry Christmas to you and yours, Grandma Asshat.

Have a lovely and asshattery-free weekend.

Nava

Eight Crazy Nights!

2010-12-01T11:05:00.000-05:00

Greetings Jewish Friends,

Tonight marks the start of Hanukkah. My first gift to you - Adam Sandler's Hanukkah Song. One of my all time faves.

Speaking of faves, if anyone wants to volunteer to make me latkes, I'd be much obliged. Last time I attempted them myself I almost burned my house down. With applesauce, please. Sour cream is verboten.

See you on Friday.

Nava

20 Games In

2010-11-29T13:06:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Consider this my periodic rant about hockey, along with your handy holiday gift guide. The above image is that of a wine caddy, so if you happen to have a loved one who is both a wine lover and a hockey lover, here's the perfect gift. I'm not giving away the who, what, where and why; you can use Google, just like I did.

Here's the update: both my hockey teams still suck huge. The Toronto Maple Leafs have crashed back down to earth after a surprisingly quick start, and the New York Islanders are as perennially horrible as they've been for (I hate so say this, but it's true) decades. There's no joy in my Kraft Hockeyville and I don't believe there will be for a very long time. My feeling is that the Hockey Gods will be against my teams for time immemorial, and for as long as I live, I will never see either of them have any success, EVER.

The isn't a "woe is me, the poor hockey fan" post; I'm actually angry about the behind the scenes details that contribute to both my teams being so rotten. It all boils down to this: bad ownership. The Leafs have the luxury of playing in Hockey Mecca West (Hockey Mecca East is Montreal), before a full house for every game, and a seemingly bottomless financial pit that affords them the luxury to not give a damn whether they win or lose. The Islanders, on the other hand, have Daffy Duck for an owner, a man who still can't tell the difference between a hockey puck and a urinal puck. Add to that the fact that Long Island itself is dying a slow death because of the crappy US economy, and an overabundance of right-wing political corruption. It's no wonder I couldn't get away from there fast enough. Well, there were other reasons, but the hockey team surely did not provide sufficient motivation to hang around. As a season ticket holder, I threw so much money away on the Islanders, I probably could have had a sizeable down payment on a decent Hamptons crib. It would have been just that - a crib, but in hindsight, even in these trying times, real estate would have been a much more prudent investment.

When you're a sports fan, you come to the realization that there are some teams that get it, and some that don't. No team in any sport can be a winner every year. Then there are the teams that are just "good enough" but never seem to win any championships, and there are the ones that may have some past glory, but have been doormats for generations. You endure the cycle year after year, hoping some halfway decent, sentient human being will come along and break it, but if you get your hopes up too high, you end up crushed by the weight of them. Here in Toronto, the great general manager, Brian Burke, and his coach, Ron Wilson, will likely not survive the season. On Long Island, coach Scott Gordon bit the dust 10 games in, and as of Friday, the Islanders managed to stave off the dubious record of 15 consecutive losses by shutting out the NJ Devils, 3-0. Not that I'm turning my nose up at a shut out, but you reach the stage where you have to wonder, what the hell is the point?

One of my all-time favourite sports movies is Penny Marshall's A League of Their Own. Tom Hanks played manager Jimmy Duggan, and uttered this line after being accused of sitting in the dugout scratching his balls for an hour: "Anything worth doing is worth doing right." Ball scratching aside, I have to agree. The Leafs feel obligated to "go for it" every season, but manage to screw the pooch no matter how hard they try. The Islanders can't screw the pooch out of his leash, no matter how hard they try. Both scenarios make for some frustrating fandom, but it's impossible to walk away. No matter how hard I try, there's always going to be that little piece of me that can't help but give a damn. Somebody needs to come up with some sort of methadone-type antidote to that, because the feelings really are inescapable. And don't for a second believe anyone who tells you, yeah, I can totally walk away.

There you have it. Unless there is some miraculous turnaround by either team, or if Gary Bettman happens to keel over while strolling down 6th Avenue, I've got nothing to left to say until spring.

Nava

Black Friday

2010-11-26T11:21:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I hope everyone had a pleasant day yesterday. If you are in the US, you ingested mounds of turkey and watched 3 football games; if you happen to have the NFL Network on your cable or satellite system. Here in Canada, it was only Thursday.

Today is Black Friday, the day when Americans hoist their stuffed selves out of bed to brave the crowds at the local malls. Shopping for me has never been sport; I like it, but I have to have something specific in mind in order to engage in it. That also doesn't mean I never go; I do, just not on Black Friday. Ever.

There have been too many frenzies created by too-good-to-be-true prices on electronics, toys, and whatever the hot item is consumers are after in a given year. The past few years have become downright scary, with images of crowds rushing into stores trying to grab one of the five 60 inch hi-def colour TVs on sale for $50.00. I'm sorry, I wouldn't care if it was free; I'm not risking my life for a television.

Black Friday has always been the day economists gauge how well the retail sector will do for the holiday season. Battalions of reporters will descend on crowds asking inane questions like, "How much will you be spending this holiday season?" Merchants, bankers and brokers will hold their collective breath hanging on every word, making dire predictions based on whether or not people are going to spend like drunken sailors or frugally drop lumps of coal into the Christmas stockings of their loved ones. There is way too much emphasis on spending and giving, mere hours after we've waxed rhapsodic about all the things we're thankful for. America will always be a heady mix of misguided patriotism combined with self-entitlement. Whether or not we have the means, we will always spend money. Well, maybe not as much now, but Black Friday will forever be looked upon as the financial Groundhog Day, giving prognosticators the yea or nay on the state of the economy. In Canada, that would be Boxing Day, but it makes little sense to me, since it's the day after Christmas, instead of a month before. Either way, it matters not. I just hope I don't turn on the news to see a body bag containing an unfortunate human who finished last in the race for a $50.00 hi-def TV. That's definitely not the reason for the season.

As I sit here digesting my Chinese food (not a turkey to be had, but I'm not complaining), I have to keep reminding myself that in this case, black is good, and red is bad. We are in desperate need of as much good and as little bad as possible.

Enjoy your weekend and happy shopping.

Nava

Giving Thanks

2010-11-24T10:37:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the US. Here, it's just Thursday. I haven't quite decided if I'll be missing the whole American Thanksgiving experience, or better off without it. I'm certainly able to put away my fair share of turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie and the rest. Really, I can do that any time if I so desire.

My best, recent Thanksgiving was 3 years ago when I travelled to Dallas to watch the Cowboys take on the NY Jets on Thanksgiving Day. I'd never before been to a Thanksgiving Day NFL contest, and it was pretty wild. I'll never forget how drunk and rowdy Cowboy fans were, not to mention friendly as anything. Texas Stadium was a bigger dump than I could have imagined, and the city of Dallas itself resembled any nondescript New Jersey town bisected by a major highway. Besides football on Thanksgiving, the most fun I had was meeting up with a friend of mine (who now lives in California), and attending two Dallas Stars hockey games. After all, I am Canadian.

Overall, I think the message of Thanksgiving gets lost in American consumerism and gluttony. We gorge ourselves, watch football and prepare to do battle with the crowds on Black Friday to see if we can get the best deal on a flat screen television without getting trampled to death. This year (conveniently), WalMart will be open on Thanksgiving Day. I'm guessing they don't want any more bad publicity having to to with an aforementioned trampling. I've never been a Black Friday shopper, and I've never understood the allure of attempting to battle the crowds at the mall. Some people enjoy the frenzy of the hunt. I'd sooner stay home.

Even though Canadian Thanksgiving has passed, the American in me wants to make a list of what I'm thankful for. Here goes:

My friends, family members and colleagues who have been so empathetic and caring; especially over the past couple of months. You know who you are.

Citalopram. Look it up.

Kraft Dinner, frozen peas and chili sauce.

Good books: particularly those by Philip Roth, Ken Follett, and Howard Jacobson

Theo Fleury. Bravery like his is an inspiration to us all.

My cat Lily for being so adaptable, yet so unaware of what's happening around her.

My cuz - the one who went to Cuba a couple of weeks ago. He's tres cool.

Not having to get on an airplane any time soon.

Air in my lungs.

My laptop.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Nava

Airport Security?

2010-11-22T11:25:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

The week of American Thanksgiving is the busiest of the year for air travel. I'm thanking my lucky stars for not having to get on an airplane, but I've been saying that for years. Although I realize "airport security" isn't going anywhere anytime soon, I am grateful to not have to deal with it on a regular basis. All the uproar over these invasive pat-downs has me pretty steamed, and if it were me subject to one of these gropings, you can bet I would not be happy about it; nor would I find it in my heart to not give a TSA employee a hard time about having to endure a molestation in full view of other passengers. It's just plain wrong.

The degree of humiliation airline passengers must endure in order to board a metal tube loaded with high octane fuel and other inconsiderate passengers, is beyond my comprehension. I haven't been on an airplane in 6 years, and for good reasons. No, I'm not deathly afraid of flying; I just haven't had occasion to step onto a jet bound for a destination I desperately want to travel to. Sure, I've traveled through North America, but via automobile. To me, it is infinitely more pleasurable to hop in a car and drive to my destination, rather than have to put up with the amount of insanity one must cope with in order to board an airplane. The day will come when I will get on an airplane again, bound for a destination that is otherwise unreachable via automobile. Until that time, I will remain on terra firma. Hell, I'd even drive to Alaska if the opportunity presented itself. No, I won't be bunking with the Palins.

While there is not a snowball's chance the methods with which the TSA screens passengers will improve, the tolerance level of American air travellers is rapidly dwindling. After September 11, there was this sense of, "It's for my own safety, and I have no choice". Now, it's full body scanning, groping, sexual abuse, inappropriate touching, "touching the junk", et. al. Even Secretary of State Hillary Clinton has said she would not put up with such treatment. But, she has her own plane. Isn't that nice? If the rest of us want to travel from point A to point B, we've got to suck it up. Or do we? The airport is no place to be a shit disturber, but I have to ask? Is all this "security" really necessary? The astronomical costs? The violations of privacy and dignity? In the meantime, you've got terrorist groups laughing their collective asses off while they watch images of Americans and Canadians enduring the pat down, and having their private parts on full display courtesy of those scanning machines. Don't for a second believe that your bits and pieces are "blurred".

Al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula has since announced that they plan to continue their "cheap" terrorist stunts until they succeed in blowing something up. Trying to send explosives via FedEx or UPS from Yemen is far less expensive than what the governments of Canada and the US are spending to attempt to "keep us safe". Maybe we need McGuyver to tell us what the best solution to airport security is. Won't we look like a huge pile of asses if the answer turns out to involve nothing more than a pack of chewing gum and a roll of Scotch tape? I know the answer can't be that simple, but there has to be a better way than this. I'm sure the millions of people who will be travelling this week are looking forward to groping turkey legs and the television remote, rather than getting groped attempting to get there.

If the TSA wants to do us all a favour, they'll issue a ban on farting while on airplanes. That just might get me back in the air sometime soon.

Nava

Reckless Abandonment

2010-11-19T13:48:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Yes, it's been an unusually busy week; work piled up to the rafters and not enough hours in the day. I also felt it was worthwhile to leave that picture of Fidel up for longer than normal to let everyone eyeball it to their heart's content. My cousin arrived back from his getaway with some interesting tidbits about life in Havana, along with a sizable cache of Cuban cigars. Life is good.

Besides the workload, nothing much of note going on - except of course if you're a royal watcher - Prince William and Kate Middleton became engaged. I've been ruminating on that all week, and think I'll save that one for Monday. The details are still unfolding, and I want to see what else materializes before I set metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper to write about it. I did watch the last "Wedding of the Century" back in 1981. I do hope this one has a happier ending. More about that next week.

Enjoy your weekend.

Nava

Off to Cuba

2010-11-12T11:57:00.002-05:00

Greetings Friends,

If there was ever an image that will make you do a double-take, it's the one I've used today. Go ahead, stare at it for a bit...

I'm not writing this communique from "behind the Iron Curtain". Although, I did drop my cousin off at the airport this morning to jet off to Havana for a little R & R this weekend. How I wish I could have gone; for an American, there is nothing more taboo than Cuba. Not as much as it once was, but still; I could not travel there from American soil, unless I boarded a kayak off Mallory Pier in Key West, or via military transport to Guantanamo Bay.

Cuba has been verboten as long as I've been alive. Granted, Castro will not live forever - he might already be dead, and we just don't know about it - and one day before too long, there will be cruise ships and regional jets destined for Cuba from US locales. As a Canadian, I am free to travel there from anywhere in Canada, but it still seems strange to me. If Americans want to relax on a beach they go to Puerto Rico, the Bahamas or Jamaica. No one ever says, "I'm off to Havana this weekend for a little sun and surf." Even thinking it is weird. Here in Toronto, there are billboards all over the city, and posters in travel agencies advertising vacation packages to Cuba. To me, that's like putting up ads for Oscar Mayer bacon in a Kosher butcher shop. The first thing that pops into my mind is, "Bay of Pigs". Of course, I gave my cousin a rousing sendoff this morning with a hug and a request to "give my regards to Fidel." I couldn't resist.

Weirdness notwithstanding, the most coveted item from Cuba is their cigars. If you've smoked a Cohiba or a Montecristo out of a box bearing that "Habanos" label, you know what I'm talking about. There's just something about a Cuban cigar that makes Davidoff and Nat Sherman comparable to Phillies Blunt. Maybe it's because they're illegal, or maybe there's some secret formula tobacco that can only be grown on Cuban soil that differentiates them to the point of: once you've tried one, there is nothing else that comes close. I've smoked many a cigar in my day, and I can honestly say, a Cuban makes everything else pale in comparison.

You can get Cuban cigars here in Canada; if you're willing to pay the astronomical tobacco taxes. Hell, I've even smuggled them into the US - labels and all. But, that was a long time ago. And I'm not sure that I'd feel comfortable sunning myself in a place where people bear the heavy yoke of a Communist government around their necks. I'd love to get a look at the place, but - I don't know; as an American, there's something that feels very illicit about wanting to vacation in a place where people are making only pennies a day. Then again, if I managed to boycott every product imported from China into North America, I'd be walking around stark naked.

Much as I'd like to, I'd find it too exhausting to be an absolute idealist 24/7. In the meantime, I'll continue to boycott Wal Mart and try to purchase as many products made in Canada or the US as often as possible. Even still, there comes a point when you're reduced to shovelling shit against the tide. I'd like to hope that the G20 leaders might accomplish some sort of economic detente at their latest summit, but I won't hold my breath. I know the likelihood of Cuba turning into the Caribbean outpost of Las Vegas will probably happen before too long. Whether or not I'll go there remains to be seen. But if a Cohiba happens to find its way into my hands next week, you can be sure I'll light that puppy up tout de suite.

Have a great weekend.

Nava

Remembrance Day

2010-11-10T11:42:00.000-05:00

Greetings Friends,

Tomorrow is November 11. It's Remembrance Day here in Canada, the UK and the other Commonwealth nations. It's Veteran's Day in the US. The image above is of the poppy Canadians proudly wear pinned to their garments in remembrance of the sacrifices made by soldiers who fought in past wars, and as a tribute to the troops currently serving in Afghanistan and other places around the world.

Six years ago, I was in London on Remembrance Day. I traversed the poppy "fields" planted in front of Westminster Abbey, and witnessed the laying of the memorial wreaths around the Cenotaph on Whitehall Street on the Sunday following Remembrance Day. After that ceremony, I found myself in a local pub eating fish & chips with a side of mushy peas, and toasting the Queen. The place was full of vets, in uniform, getting drunk and singing what had to be the filthiest songs I'd ever heard in my life. I'm sure those war ditties were what got them through the tough times, and as I downed the shot of whisky I was given, I silently toasted those men, along with my father-in-law, an ex-US Marine, and my dad, a Holocaust survivor. I cannot remember a day when I laughed and cried as much as I did on that one. I've thought of that day often over the past six years, and as I proudly wear my poppy, I am proud to share those memories here with my loyal readers.

In addition to freedom of speech, we must also remember the freedom provided by those who serve in the military branches of our two proud countries, and the men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve our rights in these democratic societies. We must always remember. Lest we forget...

Nava

Don't Burn Me in Effigy

2010-11-08T14:31:00.004-05:00

Greetings Friends,

I just finished reading this book, another 1,000 page tome by expert yarn-spinner Ken Follett. It wasn't as good as some of his previous books (in my opinion), but I enjoyed it all the same. Particularly because getting lost in a gargantuan novel soothes me during times of great distress. I find a big, hard-cover book is more comfort food than gooey chocolate cake, mac and cheese, or turkey and stuffing. Not that I would turn my nose up at any of that, but...

I was enthralled with the time period of this book: World War I era Europe, and the inclusion of the woman's suffrage movement as one of the story lines. One of the secondary characters - I do love my secondary characters - was an American female political journalist who befriends a fictional aide to President Woodrow Wilson. She's written as intelligent and strikingly beautiful, but with one permanently closed eye; a facial deformity she was born with and refused to have surgically corrected.

Since this book is the first in a new trilogy Mr.Follett is penning, no character suffers an untimely death, nor do any of them live happily ever after; so your investment of time in reading this book will progress on to the second book, whenever it comes out. At least that's my plan of action. The female reporter and the presidential aide marry, political views and chosen professions be damned. That got me thinking about the potential danger inherent in that relationship: an American writer who operates under the auspices of the First Amendment, and a political operative who could easily get burned by his own spouse while whispering sweet nothings into her ear during an intimate encounter. There would always be the chance of that relationship ending badly.

Since I have no idea when the second book will be published, I can take the speculative liberty of assuming that, at some point, those two characters will find themselves at odds because of their occupations. As a writer, you're always walking a fine line between burying the lead or sacrificing your sources. Journalistic integrity has grown somewhat ambiguous in these modern times, and clearly does not resemble the same ideals it had in the early 20th century. There are so many new and unreliable sources of information out there, they can simultaneously overwhelm and cast doubt onto whatever you might read. If you don't go directly to "the horse's mouth" you can never be 100% sure that what you read is accurate. That's always been true to some extent, but never truer than now.

About a month ago, someone took issue with what I wrote on this blog. I deleted the entry, not because I wanted to, but because it was what I felt was the right move at the time. What I've since found out is that the individual who took issue with what I wrote, never read the entry, but took the word of another party, regarding what it said. That entry has caused me significant grief, and learning that the person never read it for themselves, simultaneously steams my broccoli, twists my knickers and burns my toast. I've effectively been burned in effigy for what I wrote, and my words were never even read by the person who ignited the flames. All I can say to that is: their loss.

When you live in a country where you can practice free speech, you will sometimes take that practice for granted. Ever since I became a full-time writer, not a day goes by when I am not thankful for the ability to write and freely express my opinions. Taking that away from me would be akin to depriving me of oxygen. I am a citizen of two countries that practice free speech; albeit one is slightly more restrictive than the other, but no one will ever show up at my door to arrest me for the blog entries I've been penning. I am free to write what I see fit, and, as I've previously stated, this blog is not a democracy. Last week, I referred to Prime Minister Stephen Harper as an "imperialist dope". Prior to the US midterm elections, I accused Canadians of schadenfreude. I've taken my shots at many public figures in my short time as a blogger, and none of those shots have boomeranged back to bite me in the ass. That's as much validation as I'll ever need. And in the case of my offensive entry of a month ago, well, you win some, you lose some. If everyone loved me, I'd need to find myself an uninhabited island to live on, and another one close by to house my ego. Honestly, much as I love my solitude, I love civilization even more. I have no desire to leave it.

This isn't the first time, nor will it be the last, that will have me burning in effigy. I'm not feeling the flames; nor will I ever. God Bless America, God Bless Canada, and God Save the Queen - who, by the way, now has her own Facebook page.

Nava

Friday Fudge

2010-11-05T18:33:00.000-04:00

Greetings Friends,

Years ago, I worked for a fudge company for about 5 years. That's all I'm going to say. Talk amongst yourselves.

I'm at a loss for some material today, but I do have a post up over at Perfume Posse if you're so inclined to surf on over there. I spent most of today working, so once again, blogging had to take a backseat.

I will disclose that there are some big things on the horizon for Ink & Paint. I won't say what specifically, so you'll just have to keep checking back. It's all good, and I am really excited.

In the meantime, Have a great weekend. I'll see you back here on Monday.

Nava