The Dictator And The Manatee

Guyana's zoo and botanical gardens is an interesting place. Not as barbaric as many Third World zoos, in which animals are imprisoned in cages barely big enough to enclose one's shoes, it is nonetheless a study in unfortunates. On the one hand, it is undeniably beautiful and sprawling, with lush vegetation and a staggering density of exotic birds and flowers... so much so that one quickly becomes hardened to the specialness of its biodiversity; over a period of minutes, a hundred species of kites and cranes zipped about me, close enough to snatch with my hands, any one of which (birds, not hands) would have caused an ornithological stir in a bird-barren place like Toronto. On the other hand, enough litter and human wreckage abounds that one fears for the safety of both the animals and their human visitors.

One of the perils of visiting the place is the constant barrage of beggars, each with a unique yet equally implausible hard luck story, and each with a sense of menacing forcing you to take him seriously. My favourite today was a fellow claiming to have "escaped" from an HIV/AIDS ward and needing funds to get his antiretroviral medication. When I explained to him that I was in Guyana to do HIV work, and that ARV meds are in fact free of charge, I was met with a calculating but confused glare. But my mama didn't raise no fools (except for a certain sibling who shall go unnamed... oh, you know who you are), so I gave him some money nonetheless. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Guyana, peace of mind and security of body are both worth the pennies they cost.

The zoo/garden facility is, for some unexplainable reason, home to the tomb of Forbes Burnham, the deceased dictator of Guyana, a man whose name is spat with contempt by many, including most members of my family. His reign was characterised by corruption, violence, election fraud, treasury theft and such willful incompetence in the management of this country's resources that he set Guyana back decades in terms of economic and social evolution. Under his reign, the racial divide that infects this country saw its apex, and the mass exodus to Canada, USA and UK reached torrential levels. There is a widespread belief that he was assisted in clinging to power by forces in the US security establishment; and ironically it was another US institution, Jimmy Carter's group, that brought true democracy to Guyana upon the dictator's death. Why Burnham has been allowed such a hallowed tomb, complete with a temple-like shelter frescoed with paeans to his achievements, is beyond me. (Photos of Burnham's tomb, his frescoes and the surrounding bits are below)

The highlight of the facility were the many pools filled with manatees. All one sees are typical muddy black ponds of water, filled with local fish, buzzed by the standard insects, and patrolled by any number of flocks of startlingly vibrant birds who shake the trees and screech across the terribly humid air.

But if you wait long enough on the banks of the pond, gradually a swirling in the muddy water occurs, and the form of a massive creature starts to take shape. Presently, a set of nostrils pokes from the surface, then a long monster-like body undulates and climaxes with the coiling and slapping of a giant tail. Centuries ago, European sailors developed tales of mermaids upon seeing these creatures. When I first read that bit of history, I figured European sailors were fracked in the head, 'cause a manatee resembles a hippopotamus born of a mother on thalidimide, not a hot babe with fishy naughty bits. But I see it now: in sufficiently muddly water, all one can truly make out is an undulating form followed by the slapping of the water's surface by an undoubtedly mermaid-like tail.

I shudder to think of what unholy things those sailors did to manatees once they finally caught one. Worthy of a Daily Perv Link (TM), I should think.

Well, I managed to film myself petting a manatee as it emerged from the water to gobble a mountful of grass. I will post it online when I get back... and when I figure out how to convert video from my PDA to something universally accessible!

Stumbling back to the main road from the manatee pond, I passed a caiman, which is a type of local crocodile. When I say "passed", I don't mean I passed its enclosure or its cage. I passed a CAIMAN. There it was, hanging out in the wet grass, mouth agape, waiting for some fool tourist to try to pet him. Now, I've seen enough episodes of the Crocodile Hunter to actually think, for the briefest of seconds, of yanking him about by the tail. Then I remembered that the Crocodile Hunter is dead, so maybe he's not such a great role model. So I left it well enough alone.

Sylvan Bliss and Splattered Brains

This weekend I had a surreal experience featuring two episodes of polar oppositeness in quality, yet both instructive as to the nature of modern Guyana.

It was a joy to spend time in rural Guyana, visiting my Aunt, her kids and grandkids --cousins I did not know I had. They live in a village called La Jalousie, which is adjacent to my "ancestral" village of Windsor Forest; and indeed, there's a good chance that half the people in both villages are distant relatives of mine.

(In fact, the taxi driver who took me back to my hotel turned out to be a childhood friend of my younger cousin Vayko, whose family I stayed with during my summer spent in the village 27 years ago... the taxi driver is likely a distant relation, and is now no more the annoying pre-teen I recall from way back then, but a grown man with grown children. Time marches on, and families bifurcate and fragment.)

The village is not the neolithic collection of agrarian huts that I recall (quite fondly) from my stay there so many years ago. My aunt's house has cable TV, a land line telephone, running water and a flush toilet, all of which are dramatic developments of the last few years. My memories are of having to navigate the muddy fields by flashlight at night, desperately in search of the outdoor latrine.

Despite its Western comforts, there is no mistaking the Third World nature of these environs. Garbage collection is a recent arrival, and each home is now charged the equivalent of US$1 for weekly pickup of trash, even in the most remote areas. Despite this, litter is a saddening reality that evokes a tragicomic emotional response when viewed against the backdrop of sylvan ancientness. For those unaccustomed to the rural Third World, take it from me that this scene is common the world throughout: the young boy leading a handful of goats to the creek, tripping over used Coke bottles and styrofoam cups.

And indeed, it is the animal life that reminds you of where you are. A Spiderman cartoon might be on the TV, and the phone might be ringing, and my PDA might be recording all of it in a triumph of 21st Century technological living. But when a goat wanders into the house, or when a cow pokes its head through the window and moos so loudly that the table shakes, there is no mistaking where you are.

And despite the creep of Western modernity into these village environs, there is joyfully the lingering of rural childhood purity. The kids still prefer to play cricket in the field, rather than watch cartoons on TV. And when the foreign visitor (me) arrives, I and my stories are more fascinating than any bloated figure on TV. Indeed, it was a singular joy to perform magic tricks for the village kids, well into the evening, interrupted every so often by the arrival of a curious goat, frog, chicken or cow.

It was telling that my tales and photos of Rupinuni, a land within Guyana itself, drew the most gasps. For a North American foreigner, a trip to Rupinuni, which lies on the Brazilian border, is a casual flight of a couple of hours. For a typical agrarian local, it is an impossibly expensive journey into a fabled land. It is proper to be reminded of this telling economic disparity between those of the North and those of the South. The latter are sufficiently disenfrachised that even their own country is kept from them by the tyranny of economics.

Lounging in hammocks in a rural village, as the stars climb into the sky, is a special experience that brought back magnificent memories of my youth. One of the joys of being from a rural Indo-Caribbean clan is this sense of family that is reinforced on a nightly basis as the children play about the adults' feet as stories, jokes and histories are exchanged. So it was with some melancholy that I slipped into a taxi and back into the city.

And this is where the second half of our story transpires. For on the drive back, we passed a fresh accident scene: a woman, dead on the road, her head crushed and her brains splayed across the highway. Below is a photo nabbed from a local newspaper. I took a more graphic photo at the scene, but Deonandia is not Rotten.com or Ogrish.com, so even I have some limits.


It seems that she was a beggar woman, mother of 2, out drinking with her husband. They fought, he struck her, she stumbled onto the road and was crushed by a truck. This is not an uncommon sequence of events here. There is a visceral sadness about it all, one that permeates so much of life here.

Sometimes the bliss of my time with family, particularly the village children, softens my appraisal of this place. But Guyana is more than a land of rugged landscapes and pastoral simplicity. It's a place of very hard work. (When I explained to my aunt what I do for a living, she replied approvingly and accurately, "Oh, so you don't work very hard then.") It's a place of daily violent crime, crushing poverty, domestic violence, alcoholism, and heartbreaking tragedy seemingly occurring on an hourly basis.

Those who endure life in the villages navigate avenues of poverty and insecurity. Yes, it is tempting to long for the familial comforts of village life; but such a life comes at a price. It's a price I'm not sure I'm willing to pay.

Roaches From God

Jerry Falwell is dead. But his words live on. This is my favourite Falwell quote:

"Christians, like slaves and soldiers, ask no questions."

I have nothing against Christians. Really. Some of my best friends and closest relatives are regular church-goers. I think there's a lot of beauty in Christianity, and indeed in all religions. In fact, I was up all night reading the Old Testament, a copy of which is always to be found in hotel rooms in which I stay. (I'm a particular fan of Leviticus). I think what many of us object to is the extent to which Christianity in North America has been hijacked by agenda-stricken power-mongers on the extreme Right: disingenuous, hurtful bastards like Jerry Falwell.

Much as we should not judge all of Islam by neither the actions of a violent few, nor by the ravings of pundits who enjoy the sounds of their voices, we should not belittle Christianity because of the ravings of bigoted, xenophobic Americans who no doubt would have been rejected by Jesus himself. We should remember that many of the institutions of Western civilization, especially British law --from which Canadian, Australian and Indian law, to name but a few systems, arise-- are based upon Biblical tenets.

Guyana is, of course, a very Christian nation. It's also a nation beset with violent crime, corruption, domestic abuse, rampant sexual promiscuity and untraditional family arrangements: hardly hallmarks of a stereotypical Christian society, right? In my experience, the more vocally a society exclaims its religion-based morality, the more likely that morality is shallow and fragile. This appears to be true for all religions and all societies.

I'm also reading a booked called The Laws of Karma, which is a Hindu scholarly text that begins with the observation that India, as the world's largest Hindu nation, also most evidently manifests qualities and values that are the least Hindu. Irony, or a natural characteristic of a society? I would argue the latter.

I lost my hotel keys a day ago. I upended my room looking for them, to no avail. Late last night, as I drifted slowly into slumber, I jerked suddenly awake as I caught sight of a monstrous cockroach descending from the ceiling. The thing was the size of my head. It was big enough to have voting rights. I chased it round and round, till it fled behind a credenza. I pulled the credenza aside to find the roach sitting atop my missing keys! Perhaps, I reasoned, the roach had been sent as an emissary of God to show me my missing keys. Indeed, in my sleepy stupor, I perceived a celestial glow about its hissing form, confirming for me its possible heavenly origins.

So I grabbed my shoe and bashed its disgusting brains in. And I slept quite soundly in roach-free bliss, thank you.

In other news, a development relevant to work here in South America is news that we are inching closer to the establishment to a "Bank of the South", as a South American alternative to the World Bank. This project is championed by the governments of Venezuela (unsurprisingly), Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay, Ecuador and Bolivia --all debtors to the World Bank who have, in recent remarkable years, either minimized or eliminated that debt.

Unsurprisingly, the IMF is not pleased with this development. Questions of function aside, let us acknowledge that remittances and interest paid by these countries are sources of income for the World Bank. Without them, the World Bank may need to restructure its internal finances... this on the heels of revelations about bloated salaries and nepotistic remuneration packages. It's certainly an exciting time for South and Latin America.

I leave you with this article forwarded by EK Hornbeck, which gives further fuel to what I've been stating on this site for six years: Al Gore will run in 2008, and he will win.

Increasingly Irrelevant

So the Bush White House considers Jimmy Carter to be "increasingly irrelevant", huh? How unsurprising that their response to Carter's policy criticism would be a personal attack against Carter the man, and not against his words, which are largely unassailable (if you're not a Kool Aid-drinking idiot, that is).

History is already rendering its verdict, even before the administration has run its course: the only reason Bush isn't the most irrelevant monkey man to ever wear a suit is that his disastrous policies and actions will have left such a devastating footprint upon the world that the last thing we can consider him is irrelevant. But that, as I hope is clear to everyone, is not a good thing.

Perhaps BushCo should remind themselves of a comment they made before they invaded Iraq, back when the UN refused to give them the cover of international legitimacy: that if the UN doesn't come on board with their plan, it will have proven its irrelevance. Again, that word, "relevance"; they harp it so frequently that the psychoanalyst in each of us needs to take notice --is it perhaps that it is they who fear their own irrelevance? It would certainly explain an otherwise inexplicable trend of making bold, yet underinformed and ill-advised, global moves which nonetheless command the world's attention.

And let us not forget that, four years on from that arrogant dismissal of the UN, BushCo is now in desperate need of the UN's nation building and peace keeping apparati to relieve US efforts in Iraq. Does that sound like irrelevance to anyone?

The world must put up with this monstrous, cerebrally- and morally- challenged Presidency for only another year and a half. For most administrations, this would be a lame duck time, and certainly Bush himself is "increasingly irrelevant" on the domestic front. But he and his ilk are fanatical enough to use whatever power they have left to go out with a big bang.... Iran, anyone?

Now is the time to see if the vaunted US constitution has any teeth, or if Americans truly are a nation of sheep. By all measures, Bush should have been impeached by now, but selfishness and disingenuousness on the part of Republicans, and sheer incompetence and cowardice on the part of Democrats, prevented that proper course.

But if American government, law and citizenry can rally at last, then the institutions responsible for such things can refuse to take part in the final neocon crusade, the upcoming war against Iran. And we are seeing signs of that, with military leaders threatening to quit, and yellow-bellied Democrats finally speaking out (when the opinion polls tell them to).

It's all not enough. Bush, Cheney, Rove, et al are war criminals: prosectuting an illegal war of aggression whose slim rationale was unfounded; denial of torture, which has since been proven to be systematic; domestic surveillance against citizens; extrajudicial sentencing and execution; a plethora of constitutional rights suspended for citizens and non-citizens alike; and countless violations of the Geneva Conventions. The list goes on, and I haven't even begun with the unproven allegations, such as election fraud.

I never thought I would in my lifetime see their like occupy the executive chairs of a Western Democratic nation, and yet it came to pass, with very few having the courage to speak out against them.

Jimmy Carter was a mediocre President at best. He got very little done, overreacted to a false energy crisis and didn't inspire the nation much with his overly high brow, though supremely moral, philosophical commitment to universal human rights. And there's a strong argument that he should have been a lot tougher on Iran during the hostage crisis, an event warranting decisive military action.

But he has proven his worth since leaving office, dedicating his life and energies to genuinely improving the world. The country from which I am writing this post --Guyana-- owes much to Jimmy Carter, whose foundation brought free elections here in the early 1990s, after decades of dictatorial rule. Thousands have homes because of him; and for a brief time, the Middle East enjoyed something resembling peace because of Carter's efforts at Camp David. He has done more measurable good as an ex-President than many two-term sitting Executives; and the world finally recognized his contributions with a long overdue Nobel Peace Prize.

That an intellectually stunted miscreant and historical disaster like Bush and his monkeys would dare call this giant among men "increasingly irrelevant" is the ultimate in both ironies and verbal obscenities. If administrations were given tombstones upon their terminations, I think those two words might have some ironic shimmer as BushCo's epitaph.

What...? Deer Now?

Greetings, my droogies. I write to you from the Sea Breeze Hotel in Georgetown, Guyana, where I have arrived once again (and perhaps for the final time) to "do good".

Two days of fever before even arriving here, and now two days of, um, gastric distress sufficiently foul to make one feel that one has spent the time as a large man's prison bitch are enough to suck the joy out of what is otherwise yet another adventure for our enterprising young Epidemiologist.

I celebrated a break in the, um, gastric distress by allowing myself some much misses carbs: fried chicken and French fries. Mmmmm. I immediately regretted the choice. But such is life.

But let's not wallow on matters parasitic. Instead, I offer my congratulations to Mr Adam Duncan who wowed us all with both his sitar and guitar playing Friday night at the inaugural concert of the Canadian Society for Indian Classical Music, a show for which I was the proud (and feverish) emcee.

Let us begin with today's Daily Perv Link (TM). It seems it is no longer sufficient to get nasty with our furry friends; now it is also necessary for them to be dead. Last time it was a dead dog. This time, a dead deer. This story is particularly newsworthy because the perp bears a suspicious resemblance to my cousin Ajay. Luckily, Ajay was in Australia at the time of the crime.

EK Hornbeck sends us this NY Times extended feature on Al Gore. I tells ya: he will announce his candidacy this Fall. If he fails to be the next US President, I will refund all of your membership fees to this website. But by the looks of things, Gore seems to have bigger plans than the mere Presidency.

D-Mack sends us this list of stupid grammar mistakes. He also let's us know about perhaps the stupidest lesson plan in history. And we wonder why American schools suck (though Canadian schools aren't much better).

Well that's all I got today. Internet access here is sketchy at best, so I make no promises that I can continue to blog daily for the next 10 days... but I will try!

Doggy Style

Today's Daily Perv Link (TM) is a follow-up of an earlier entry. As was reported in this space some time ago, Ronald E. Kuch was caught having penetrative sex with a dead dog. It seems he has been charged with sodomy and indecent exposure, and may be sentenced to up to 22 years in prison for his crimes.

So many questions abound, not the least of which being, "What the hell was he thinking?" But if40 years of life on Earth has taught me anything, is that one should never bother trying to understand the precise mindset of those on the fringes; some thoughts will always be inaccessible to us.

So, instead let us ask the logical question few in the mainstream will have the courage to publicly voice: what exactly did he do that warrants jail time? Indecent exposure? Sure, I'll give you that. In my personal opinion, exposure of the human body should never be criminalized, but I recognize that my view is marginal at best, so I'll let that one go.

But sodomy? Methinks the laws of many jurisdictions consider sodomy to be any sexual penetrative act committed by a man on anything other than a human vagina. By that definition, masturbation or the use of sex dolls and other such personal apparatus would also be illegal. Seems a stretch to me.

As readers of this blog know, I am quite horrified by the increasing reports of the sexual abuse of animals. Cruelty against a living animal usually nets a perp a few months or a hefty fine and community service --never 22 years! In my opinion, those who physically harm living animals in anything other than an agricultural capacity deserve to experience the full heft of our penal system.

But a dead animal? The law recognizes the dishonouring of a human corpse to be a crime, but says nothing of non-human corpses.

Put aside the obvious ooginess of the act, but explain to me how coitus with a dead animal is any more wrong than playing football with a plucked chicken (what, you haven't tried that?) or treating a side of beef as a punching bag (you saw Rocky, right?) I'm legally allowed to do any disgusting thing I want to a hunk of steak I buy from the grocery store, even --let's be blunt-- get jiggy wi' it.

So, in our society which treats animal flesh as a commodity like any other, how is the placing of one's penis in dead animal flesh a crime? Well, maybe this deer has an answer.

Do Not Send Me Your Manuscripts

I'm very thankful for the minimal success I've had in my writing career. One of the joys that such success affords is the opportunity to interact with those who've read my work, or those in the general writing community. As a byproduct of such interaction, I frequently receive unsolicited requests to read and critique the manuscripts of aspiring writers.

Now, the desire to write is a fine trait to possess. The courage to actually put one's words onto paper is to be celebrated without reservation. And the further courage to seek to expose one's words to the harsh world of strangers' judgment is certainly admirable. To those who send me their manuscripts, I offer nothing but respect and moral support.

But... you must understand what it means to be a professional writer. It means my vocation is not a hobby; it's an income generating skills set. In both science and writing, I am (substantially) remunerated for my time and opinion. While I volunteer these services in some circumstances, such as to contests and schools, in general I cannot afford to give away either my time or my literary experience to strangers emailing me from the ether. Moreover, I expose myself to legal action should one of my future works resemble, however slightly, the unpublished works sent to me by a stranger .

So please do not send me your manuscripts. I will not and cannot read them. Nor can I recommend you to a publisher or agent. Go to our good friend Google, or get a copy of the Writer's Digest, and follow the path that so many writers have tread for centuries: send in your work to the publishers and await their verdict, and be prepared to learn from whatever rejection or acceptance manifests. I keep in my possession a large binder stuffed with rejection letters; it keeps me humble and reminds me both of how hard I struggled to gain whatever literary acceptance I currently enjoy, and of how far I've yet to go.

While I cannot offer you specific critiques or contacts, I will happily offer words of encouragement or personal experiences, so do not let this post completely discourage you from contacting me. But do not disrespect me by devaluing my time.

Other authors have offered similar instructions on their websites. They include Karen Traviss, Philip Pullman, Mary Hoffman, Dakuta Kean and Jeffrey Carver. In lieu of specific services, Carver offers a set of free online guides for aspiring writers, which is quite a magnanimous thing to do.

Lastly, for those of you who feel that my refusal to offer free critical and editing services to unsolicited emailers is somehow indicative of my arrogance or pomposity, ask yourselves if you'd expect a lawyer, accountant or other professional to happily hand over services worth hundreds of dollars per hour to any shmuck who emails them out of the blue. If you cannot confer the same respect to the profession of author, then maybe it's not the vocation for you.

Jericho: Cancelled

The last few years have seen a bit of a renaissance in American TV. I probably feel this way because I'm finally at that magic age demographic, the one that all mainstream entertainment products are marketed to! But seriously, the last little while has seen the emergence of the new Battlestar Galactica, both Stargate franchises, Lost, House, the rebirth of Doctor Who over in Britain, Smallville and --one of the most unique shows to come around in a while-- Jericho.

On the heels of the surprising cancellation of Stargate SG1 comes news today that Jericho will not be renewed for a second season. This is particularly distressing since the first season ended with a suggestive cliffhanger, much like the legendary cancellation of Farscape. Maybe, like Farscape, enough fan interest will compel CBS to produce a miniseries to resolve the cliffhanger? Unlikely, I think.

Jericho was unlike other mainstream shows in that it mixed family drama with action, science fiction and suspense. The premise was unique: the survival of a lone Kansas town after a nuclear attack on the United States. I suspect it might have been too smart for audiences --or, more precisely, it was too smart for network executives to know how to market it. Instead of letting it dominate a safe timeslot, like Saturday night, they put it up against the Fox gargantuan, American Idol.

For those who have not seen Jericho, I would recommend watching the first season in its entirety, just to see what might have been.

Just Droppin' Off Some Feed

This weekend I drove out to Uxbridge, Ontario, to attend the surprise engagement party of Julia P and her beau, Garnet N. (EK Hornbeck and I are competing for the rights to write the first Garnet N comic book, since the dude is a born superhero). Anyway, since Uxbridge is farm country, I was eager to fit in (to avoid, you know, being beaten up). I did so by renting a monster pick-up truck in the form of one hetero-red Dodge Dakota, proud ride of rednecks the world over.

Since I had the vehicle the whole weekend, Andrew Currie and I drove it out to the airport to meet another friend for brunch. ('Cause hicks 'n' rednecks all have "brunch", don't ya know). For the cause, Andrew adopted the persona of "Skeeter", pictured above, and explained to passersby that we were "droppin' off some feed."

On a completely different note, my latest MicroSoft column is here.

The Goat Is Dead

India has been benefiting from the American outsourcing of call centres, tax accountants, architects, and even surgeons and radiologists. The newest trend? The outsourcing to India of local American news reporting. This century will be a brown century, my droogies. Just watch.

Remember the earlier Daily Perv Link about a man in Sudan forced to marry a goat that he was caught shtupping?

Well here's an update: the goat has sadly died, but not after leaving her husband a baby kid. Yes, my droogies, the end times are truly upon us.

The Unkindest Cut

I'm watching a French cartoon right now, in which our French hero travels to Scotland. The weird part is hearing French actors speak French with feigned Scottish and English accents! Beeeezarre!


Victimhood

Okay, looky what I found this morning at the much proclaimed online home of Canadian "conservative" thought, the Western Standard Blogs:

"Canadian Natives are fat Neanderthals living of the WAPs (White Anglo Persons). White Anglos must start organizing to fight for our rights. We are the down-trodden now. Wake up. Between Quebec, the Indians, the Muslims and the Leftist haters, we are screwed. It's time to fight back!" -Yanni

I know, it's like someone is doing performance art in the guise of a stereotypical bigot; but I guess stereotypes come from somewhere, huh?

I have reproduced "Yanni"'s drivel here, not to list yet another example of that disgusting site's evolution into a home for troglodytes, but rather to point out a phenomenon that may be obvious to many, but that nonetheless needs saying: the reason the extreme Right and extreme Left will never get along is that they are essentially identical, and those who preach hatred always hate themselves most. "Yanni"'s post screams victimhood, a label most often applied to the Left. And indeed the extreme Left is rightly condemned for its penchant for blaming "The Man" for every ill that befalls the seaon's favoured minority. Where the extreme Left and Right diverge is in their disagreement on which group has endured the most/worst/loudest victimization.


Wolfowitz

For those of you living under rocks (or in Timmins, Ontario... same diff), the head of the World Bank, Paul Wolfowitz, is in hot water for serious ethics violations. Wolfowitz was one of the chief neocons of the Bush II reign, and an author of the retarded War of Global Domination... sorry, Global War on Terror.

EK Hornbeck has expressed surprise that no prominent anti-Conservatives in Canada have expressed more public disappointment in how this country's government is one of the few (of three, I think) World Bank members to continue to support Wolfowitz. Harper's refusal to demand the former Bushite's resignation is seen as irrational toadyism to Bush himself. More on this here.

What does the army of droogs out in Deonandia-space think of all this?


The Unkindest Cut


I miss my foreskin, I really do. It was taken from me without my consent and at great personal distress (I imagine). As I approach middle age, I'm convinced that every square millimetre of erectile tissue is worth triple its weight in platinum, and odds are that I will desperately need those few flaccid milligrams in a few years.

I never realized I was missing anything --since this generation of Canadians is populated almost exclusively by the helmeted set-- until one day in youth I caught a glimpse of the Greek neighbour's toddler son naked and uncut, and I exclaimed aloud, "What's wrong with his?!" My father then took me aside to explain the horrific mutilation they had forced upon me and my brothers.

Okay, the baby-arm-holding-an-apple look has more character and visual charm than the baby-elephant-trunk or the tube-snake-in-a-turtleneck. But visual appeal aside, why do we non-semites do this to our sons? The semites do it for religion. But for the rest of us, the common argument is hygiene. And it's true: circumcised men who do not practise good penile hygiene are far more likely to transmit sexual diseases, including HIV, to their partners.

As a result of this statistic, medical professionals in many countries, especially those with high HIV rates, are seriously discussing mandating the circumcision of every male child as a public health measure. I have a serious problem with this.

I believe it is an individual and a family's right to cut or not to cut, though I would argue against it if asked my opinion. But to require the de-collaring of a shlong is another matter entirely, one which every civil libertarian should be concerned about. The analogy of vaccination is oft brought up in support of this Draconian proposal. We require the medical alteration of bodies through immunization as a public health measure, after all, so why not circumcision?

Well, vaccination simulates a natural process. It's "shooting practice" for your immune system for when it does come into contact with an evil pathogen. Vaccination augments and props up the body's innate defence mechanisms, at least in principle and philosophy. Circumcision, however, is quite the opposite: it's the removal of a natural part of the body, thereby constituting mutilation; and there is evidence that this actually harms rather than helps the child.

Specifically, there is some evidence that circumcision without anaesthetic (which is commonly done at a very young age) impels a lower pain threshold throughout life. Furthermore, the lack of a foreskin may cause something called "keratinization", in which the glans (or head) of the penis gradually becomes desensitized over time; in short, circumcision reduces sexual pleasure in the long run. There is, of course, also the small but real danger of botched circumcisions, which are genuinely horrific and life-ruining events.

Other analogies include appendectomies and tonsillectomies. But is anyone really advocating for the mandatory removal of one's appendix and tonsils at birth? Why not laser blast all hair follicles while we're at it? Or install a colostomy bag right away, so we'll never have to worry about colon cancer, hemorrhoids or deforestation due to toilet paper overuse?

Lastly, consider this: what if it were shown that female circumcision also conferred a significantly reduced rate of STD and HIV transmission? Would the medical world be in as much of a rush to advocate mandatory female circumcision, too? The two procedures are not similar, I agree; we generally consider the female variety to be barbaric because it eliminates sexual pleasure. But if it's true that male circumcision also reduces sexual pleasure, how is this then more moral?

As a society, we are becoming increasingly trigger happy with the "banning" and "mandatory this and that" guns. Instead of mandating circumcision to reduce STD transmission, why not mandate penile hygiene?

Suddenly I'm thinking back to that scene in Europa Europa. You know the one.

The First Men On Mars

Peter L. sends us the following video reason for why he is now a cricket fan. I offer it as celebration of this year's Cricket World Cup, recently played in the Caribbean:



I apologize for not having blogged in a few days. Even the mighty all-grumping, all-curmudgeoning, all-blogging Lord Wat needs a break now and then. But two interesting things happened this past weekend. On May 5th was marked, not only Cinco de Mayo, but also the 169th anniversary of Indians arriving in Guyana for the first time. (For those who care about such things). I for one will be returning to Guyana for more consulting work at the end of this month.

The other important thing was the 40th birthday party of one of my oldest friends, Dave K. Dave has two kids, the eldest of whom is now almost 13 --the age at which Dave and I first met! It's an important milestone, methinks, when one considers the pathways of one's life. See, Dave and I, at 14, vowed that we would be the first men on Mars. We even agreed that we'd go if the trip were to be a one-way suicide mission! Twenty-six years later and all that we have of that promise is my rejection letter from the Canadian Space Agency and Dave's autographed photo of Buzz Aldrin hanging over his desk. Mind you, technically we can still be the first men on Mars, though I must admit the odds are against us.

The saddest part of the birthday celebrations was the soccer match we had with Dave's kids, who ran circles around us. Despite my whining, I do pride myself on my fitness and athletic prowess. It was a sobering return to reality to be reminded that I can't charge about anymore like I was 14. My body reminded me of it again the next morning.

Freedom

It's been really quite fascinating watching the fallout from the recent decision in Canada to ban incandescent light bulbs. It's hot on the heels of the decision in New York, and the probable decision in Toronto, to ban trans fats from restaurant foods.

TVOntario's premiere public affairs show, The Agenda, had as its topic Tuesday night, "From lightbulbs to trans fat, how much should be banned in a liberal democracy?" Somehow this has all become a libertarian rallying point.

Here's my take on it. Earlier in this space, I expressed my support for the New York ban on trans fats, despite being a firm believer in the individual's right to harm himself. What we see in the political realm, though, is a confounding of individual rights with business rights. The two are rarely, if ever, the same.

In fact, one detractor on TVOntario commented that STDs are a more dire public health threat than trans fats, yet no one would ever suggest restricting sexual behaviour. Firstly, this is not strictly true, since sexual behaviour is certainly regulated in our society. The law tells us where we can have sex, with whom we cannot have sex, and in some jurisdictions what kinds of sex we can have. But that's not really the point. Rather, a ban on restaurants serving trans fats in no way impinges on an individual's right to seek out trans fats and consume them; it is strictly a ban on having a corporate entity poison you. If you wish go out and make your own trans fats, or buy some on the internet and stir it into your cereal, you're still free to do so.

No libertarian complains, for example, that it is illegal for the same restaurant to stir ipacac into your coffee, which would make you violently ill, though it is quite legal for you to buy ipacac in the drug store and ingest it yourself. These bans are controls over the behaviours of companies, not of individuals.

Now, the story of the incandescent light bulb is a bit different. I am as yet unsure of how it will take place. Will it be illegal to use such bulbs in one's home? Or will it only be illegal for a supplier to sell them? I would argue that in this specific case the latter is improper and the former is tolerable. This is simply because, unlike trans fats, which only affect the consumer, an energy wasting light bulb theoretically directly affects the whole community.

The proper analogy is the control of tailpipe emissions in cars. Does each of us have a right to own and operate a smog-belching car? The law says no, and no libertarian think tank has, to my knowledge, spoken up in defence of the unrepentant smog-driver. Just as we would not allow onto our streets a car that has not passed emission standards, especially when cleaner cars are available, nor should we allow heat-spewing bulbs into our community, especially when cleaner alternatives are readily and cheaply available.

However, I don't think criminalization is the solution in this case. The key difference between the emission analogy and the light bulb issue is that we drive cars in the so-called "community", while we use light bulbs in our homes. Therein lies the fundamental disagreement between the light bulb ban's supporters and its detractors: the former do not see the home as being separate from the community, while the latter would no doubt argue that one should be permitted to run one's uncalibrated smoggy car engine within the confines of one's property (and the law would probably support this supposition)--- because, simply put, a citizen's home should be free of fascistic state-degreed judgments on proper behaviour.

It's a sticky point. On the one hand is the undeniable scientific truth that the environment does not end at the front door of our homes, while on the other hand there is the fundament of our liberal democracy which submits that no one can tell us what we can do once we are inside our homes. The problem with the latter view is that the state already tells us what we can and can't do, and no one seems to object too strenuously. One cannot look at child pornography within the confines of one's home, for example.

My solution to the light bulb issue is this: tax the bloody thing, like we tax liquor and cigarettes. Tax it to the moon and reap some sweet governmental income before simple economics drives these bulbs out of the market. Case closed.

Hey There, How You Doin'?

Newsflash: over 20% of Gitmo detainees have been cleared of all charges but cannot be released because... no one knows where to send them.

Here's an idea: since they were taken against their wills by Americans and held in an American institution without reason (as evidenced by the innocent verdict), then it is incumbent upon Americans to find them a safe home.... in America. The irony, of course, is that if these folks didn't want to blow up Americans before they were kidnapped, they sure do now. Something about reaping what you sow occurs to me now.

Meanwhile, EK Hornbeck sends us this article of conservative writer John O'Sullivan's take on the need to "hold detainees indefinitely." This particular phrase leaped out at me:

"The unpalatable truth is that terrorists fighting an indefinite war have to be detained indefinitely. That is the only way to protect ordinary Afghans, U.S. and Canadian troops fighting there, and ultimately our own cities from attack."

Do you see the problem with this bit? It's that O'Sullivan, like so many of his ilk, naturally assumes that Afghans fighting in Afghanistan against armed foreign soldiers who have arrived as an invading force are terrorists. Is that really the case?