Raped By A Wombat

Greetings from Memphis, Tennessee, where I am attending the 2008 meeting of the Society for Applied Anthropology, always a veritable babefest. But the experience has been anything but bump free, as my travel curse continues.

My United flight out of Ottawa Thursday night was cancelled due to bad weather. This would not ordinarily be an issue, except that I needed to be in Memphis by 8:AM Friday morning in order to give my presentation, and there were no flights arriving early enough on Friday!

So I managed to get re-routed on an American Airlines flight via Chicago. This flight was delayed 3 hours, and I feared I'd miss my connection. The flight was once more cancelled twice before a heroic AA employee managed to get it back on the board, and confirmed that my connecting Memphis flight had also been delayed, so that I would make it into Tennessee at 2:AM --which was fine by me.

Well, we made it into Chicago after midnight, whereupon I was stunned to discover that my Memphis flight had been cancelled. Looking around the airport, I saw scores of people sleeping on the floor. An entire wing, in fact, had been replaced with cots, most of which had been occupied. But I decided to embrace the moment and opt for a discount "distressed passenger" hotel instead, having found an early morning flight to Memphis leaving at 6:45 AM.

Now, I managed to get to the hotel in Chicago by 2:AM, accompanied by several scores of other "distressed passengers". Didn't manage to get into a room until 3:AM, and had to wake up at 4:30 AM in order to get to the airport in time for my Memphis flight.

Even so, I would not make my 8:AM presentation time. Well, miracle of miracles, I had not counted on a time zone shift! Due to Memphis being in the Central Time zone, I managed to arrive at the SFAA conference only half an hour late, and was able to give my full presentation.

Well, that done, I figured I'd check into my comfy Memphis Marriott hotel room and finally sleep. But no, they would not let me do so until 3:pm. So I spent the day lugging my bag around, slumping like a zombie, killing time. Just too tired to actually explore Memphis, except that I managed to visit a scrumptious soul food restaurant and suck back a mountain of fried chicken.

3:pm rolled around and I was desperate for sleep, so I went to check in. I was horrified to find a line-up at the check-in counter 50 people deep. The SFAA babefest conference had ended, and a new breed of conventioneer had arrived, this group consisting entirely of extremely rotund middle aged women. Yes, my friends, I am amidst a jamboree of Mary Kay cosmetics saleswomen!

So after literally waiting an hour in the check-in line, I am finally encsconced in a hotel room. It is now midnight, and I must rise again in a bout 4 hours to get to the airport again and make it to Toronto. This, my friends, is the supposed glamour of a mobile lifestyle.

I will say this, though: travel to the USA is always fascinating for this Canadian. Of all the exotic places I've visited, I always get a bit weirded out crossing the 49th parallel. Everything is eerily similar to Canada, but very much different. It's always a subtle mindfuck.

In Other News...

Today's Daily Perv Link (TM) is sent by Deonandia reader Amphibious, who tells of a case in New Zealand of a man claiming to have been raped by a wombat, resulting in his sudden affliction of "speaking Australian".

Darth Vadum sends us two clips of serious folk discussing how Al Gore might yet become President of the USA later this year. Remember, I called it here first, 8 years ago! His links are here and here.

Well, the 2nd best drama on network TV, Jericho, is officially cancelled... again. There's a small chance a lesser network, like the SciFi channel, will pick it up. As much as I love the show, I no longer care. Due to the previous cancellation, the reduced budget and the writers' strike, thie abbreviated 2nd season of Jericho was far inferior to his superlative 1st season. It's as if the institutional memory of characters' motivations was lost once key staff writers departed. It's still a fantastic show, and I would watch it if it came back for a miraculous 3rd season; but I don't expect a return to its hight 1st season quality should that happen.

The plus side of the show's cancellation is that people have been frantically googling keywords "jericho" and "save" and have been led to my new site, Skiffy.ca. So the hit counts are up dramatically!

I didn't take many photos in Spain, instead relying on my compatriots to do all the shutterbuggery. Once I collect their best ones, I'll be sure to let you know as I pass them off as my own. Unfortunately, in most of them, I'm looking pretty damn old and haggard. Here's one of the exceptions, taken during a drunken winefest at --believe it or not-- the Hard Rock Cafe in Barcelona; identities have been hidden to protect the guilty:

Que?

Don't be misled by this very stimulating advertisement. RyanAir sucks much ass.



See, I must qualify my love of Spain. On our last day, we lined up dutifully at the RyanAir counter at 7pm, for our 9pm flight to London from Granada. A cute Spanish surveyor asked us to rate our stay in Spain, to which we responded with our highest possible ratings.

Too soon, I should think. First off, we waited a good hour in the check-in line. When we got to the front, Adam's bag was 6kg overweight, which cost us a fine of 60 euros. When I went to pay the fine, the lug behind the desk wouldn't look me in the eye or even speak to me, but was more than willing to entertain his fellow Spaniards who asked questions from the side of the desk.

Eventually we made it through security to the gate, whereupon we were greeted with a sign encouraging us to purchase booze for our flight. So we miraculously managed to spend every last euro on a bottle of delicious Spanish wine and two large cans of beer, all of which we saved for the long flight to London. (See, RyanAir does not serve free refreshments). We saw this as a sign from Zod that we were meant to buy this booze, since the total cost was literally equivalent to the total cash money we had on hand.

We waited. And waited. Gradually, everyone in the gate area began to leave. No one made any announcements or said anything, so we looked at the flight board: our flight, for which we had already paid an overweight fine and been handed our boarding passes, had been CANCELLED. But of course, the airport was abandoned and no one was telling us anything.

So 100 confused travelers wandered down to the desk of the big Spanish lug who collected the overweight fines. He explained --in Spanish-- that there might be a bus to take us to another city where our plane would be waiting for us. But we had to collect our own bags and take them outside. Which we did.

Of course when we got outside, there were no buses and no officials, just pissed off travellers stranded in Spain. After about half an hour, some buses showed up and chaos ensued. Long story short, we all ended up on a bus, but for many of us, our bags were on another bus. Hardly a recipe for confidence or security. The drive to the other airport in Malaga was nearly 2 hours long, during which no one explained anything to us.

To help quell the tension, the driver plied us with a movie: Snakes On A Plane. Seriously. Oh, but that wasn't bad enough. It was Snakes On A Plane.... in Spanish! And it gets better: it was a bootleg version, filmed inside a theatre! I slept through the ride, but I'm told it was a harrowing ride through narrow streets at a break-neck pace, all during a rain storm.

Eventually we got to the Malaga airport, which was also abandoned. Once more, there were no officials to greet us or explain anything. Somehow, we all managed to make our way to security and were told by a fellow traveler (who spoke Spanish) that the plane was on the tarmac and would leave at midnight. So why weren't we boarding? Because there was no one there from RyanAir who could give the okay!

Another lengthy wait and someone was apparently awakened or phoned, and we started crawling through security. Guess what? Our wine and beer were confiscated. Bastards. I won't even begin to describe how incompetent the security screeners were.

Then we had to race to get on the plane, because RyanAir is a general seating airline with no reserved seats. Fortunately, despite being into our 5th decade of life, we are pretty fit, and we managed to find three adjacent seats for myself, Adam, and our new friend Samantha, a delightful 19 year old British geography student who was learning Spanish in Spain. She was the saving grace in what was otherwise a disastrous travel experience.

We managed, though, to find the only airplane row I've ever encountered that had no windows! It felt like a giant, cramped bus that shook a lot; there was no confirmation that we were ever airborn!

Did I mention that RyanAir is the only airline to have ever landed in the wrong airport? I'm told that they recently got the airport wrong, and ended up landing at a military base, and hilarity ensued.

Well, we got into London at 3:30 AM, but that ain't the end of the story. See, Stansted airport is pretty much abandoned at that time of night, and there isn't an easy way to get into town! Luckily, with Samantha's guidance and that of my good London-based friend Mieke who continued to text me well into the wee hours, we managed to formulate a trek of buses and taxis that got us onto Mieke's comfy floor near Notting Hill at around 4:30AM... just in time to power nap before heading to another airport a few hours later to fly home to Canada.

Ah, the joys of international travel. Did I mention I'm heading to Tennessee on Thursday? It never ends.

In Other News...

There's a new article up on Skiffy.ca, this the latest review of a "New Amsterdam" episode by "redparrot".

Sukhy sends us this video for explaining subprime markets.

For those of you in Toronto, my sitar teacher, the wonderful Anwar Khurshid, will be playing at a concert this coming Saturday night at 8pm at the Medical Sciences Auditorium of the University of Toronto.

JJ sends us The Story of Stuff.

Remember the great blog, StuffWhitePeopleLike? EK Hornbeck sends us the response, StuffAsianPeopleLike.

In honour of St Patrick's Day, MED sends us this:



And lastly, The Other Ray sends us 20 Things You Didn't Know About Sex.

More Self Plugging

My latest serious article is published in India Currents magazine. Here's a taste:

Years ago, I interviewed for a job with a law firm that was looking for an epidemiologist with skills in science research design. Their intent was that I would attack the science underlying the claims being brought against their major clients—mostly tobacco companies being sued for smoking-related health damages.

“If I took this job, how would I sleep at night?” I asked myself. “On a bed of money,” came the subconscious reply.

I ultimately chose another path, but the lesson was learned: though there is an undeniable causal link between smoking and poor health, there are sufficient cracks in the scientific methodology used to quantify that link that a disingenuous expert could likely foment doubt among non-expert jurors, simply by prising those cracks into yawning chasms. In essence, one can use science’s own persnickety nature to attack it...

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda

Spain is now officially my favourite European nation. Mind you, I've only been to two others (England, and France), but I suspect Spanish charm will be difficult to match.

Our two days in Barcelona were inspiring. It's a magnificent, polished city with a hum of youthful energy and a clean vivacity. Its streets are gorgeous. Its food is sheer perfection. Its architecture is fascinating. And its women are simply gorgeous. Even the plain ones are elevated to beautiful by virtue of their singular sense of style.

There was, however, a definite rudeness exhibited by hotel staff and other officials in Barcelona, something I attribute to an understandable hatred of tourists. But that was outweighed by the plethora of sandwiches. Yes, sandwiches. Corner shops abound with the Spanish standard: torpedo loafs with ham, salami or cheese. So simple, but oh so yummy.

As lovely as Barcelona was, it was Granada that stole my heart. I write you now from the centre of southern Spain, where columnar haciendas abound, and the remnants of Islamic flavour lent by the Moors can still be sensed. The city is famous for its Moorish castle, the Alhambria, which supposedly overtakes the Taj Mahal in beauty. I couldn't tell you, as I have not yet seen it.

But I can tell you that Granada is simply stunning for its charming buildings, cobblestoned streets, delightful cafes and colourful characters. We are here for Easter weekend, so the place is packed with tourists --which is strangely not a bad thing. Everyone is quite polite and friendly. Three lovely Basque girls we met at a tapas bar took us out drinking and dancing, despite barely being able to communicate. A waittress bought us shots of tequila. Even when they know our Spanish is essentially non-existent, locals still persist in trying to communicate with us.

The tapas bars themselves are lovely ideas. Everytime one orders a drink (which are remarkably low priced), one is given a free plate of food. Sometimes it's just ham sandwiches, but other times it's something more exotic, like an avocado pastiche or grilled octopi. Always, though, the food is stupendously delicious.... and healthy! One item we weren't too thrilled with was the pulpos, grilled tiny octopi; you bite in and are treated to the crunch of backbone and the squish of ink. It tastes great, but is oh so gross.

Drinking is the order of the day. I think I've been solidly drunk for 3 days now, while eating mountains of incredible food at every turn. Remarkably, I have both lost weight and not suffered any ill effects from the drinking. I attribute this to three things: the very high quality of the wine we are imbibing, the low fat nature of the food, and the fact that we are also walking many miles each day. I've asked myself several times today: why am I not living in Spain?

I will recount for you one fascinating experience from Thursday night. Remember, this is Easter weekend here in Spain, and Granada is considered a particular destination for observant Catholics on this occasion. We had spent an evening crawling from establishment to establishment, happily navigating the quaint and bustling cobblestone roads of the city centre. At around 2:AM we found ourselves in a very crowded tiny bar with new Spanish friends, happily sucking back mohitos.

Suddenly, the room went black, as did the rooms in adjacent buildings. Amid whispers of "shhh!" everyone fell silent. Indeed, the whole street, previously bustling with standard late night party noise, fell eerily still. And a slow drum beat began. It grew louder, and it became clear that it was coming from a procession of costumed marchers walking in a slow, funerary procession.

This was the first procession of this year's Santa Semanta in Granada, wherein various religious brotherhoods dress in what resemble a mix of Ku Klux Klan robes and the funky costumes from Eyes Wide Shut, then march down the long streets carrying effigies of Jesus and Mary. It's a profoundly powerful sight, and it gave me chills akin to those I experienced when standing alone within the inner sanctum of the Great Pyramid of Cheops.

I travel so much that it's rare to find that feeling of awe at experiencing something new in a foreign place. But I'm pleased to report that I found it twice so far this year: once in Egypt and again here in Granada. The world really is a marvelous and fascinating place, full of wonder and joy and novelty. All it takes is open eyes and a sense of childlike appreciation for things that are otherwise quite banal.

Granada has other joys: Paris has shared some of Rodin's original pieces for temporary display in public gardens. We saw Rodin's "Thinker" today. Very cool. And did I mention the food? Unbelievably good.

One last observation of the pleasure that is Spain: unlike other parts of the world, especially European centres like Paris, I have rarely seen anyone chat on a cell phone here. I don't yet understand why that is. But I will tell you: after decades of exploring the developing world --jungles, deserts, slums, metropolises and so forth-- I think I can get into this comfortable first world travel thing.

In Other News...

Several new articles are up on Skiffy.ca, courtesy of "redparrot": a plea to bring back the show Blood Ties and a review of the latest New Amsterdam.

Speaking of science fiction, I'm sure you've all heard of the passing of the last great Grandmaster of Science Fiction, Sir Arthur C. Clarke. I will write an obituary for him at Skiffy soon enough.

Train In Spain

Greetings, droogies. I am en route from Barcelona to Montserrat by rail and desperately need to urinate.

That's right: i'm about to drain my main vein while riding a train in Spain. Might all be in vain, as i'm nursing a nasty sprain. If draining the vein leads to some sprayin', it may also cause a sprain (as well as a stain). Ow, I think this refrain just hurt my brain. Oh the pain.

Picture of monastery at Montserrat...

Froggy Love

Not quite a Daily Perv Link (TM), but here's a story of a frog humping a rubber ducky. What, don't believe me? Here's proof. Dig the surprised look on the duck:


I have a recently divorced friend who thinks that only crazy and stupid people get married. This story does not contradict his thesis.

New York Governor Spitzer has resigned because of his dalliance with a high priced call girl. Want to know how wonderful the Internet is? Here are the pics of said hooker. And here's a sample, courtesy of the Fark.com forums:


Of course, she weirdly bears a disturbing resemblance to a transsexual who also made the news.

In Other News...

The Other Ray sends us two bits: first, Ten Things You Didn't Know About The Milky Way Galaxy; and second, this fascinating visual depiction of what the total volumes of water and air are relative to the size of the Earth:


There's more sci-fi goodness over at Skiffy.ca. Today's article is a review of the 2nd best show on network TV, Jericho.

Lastly, you may have noticed a new feature on this site: a ratings system! Click on the starts on the lower left and you'll be able to register how much you liked or disliked this post.

Pluggy McPluggerton

In a rush today. Flying off to Barcelona on the weekend, which means not sleeping till then. Urrrgh.

Two items that need plugging:

First, a new anthology of crime-themed stories, called Toronto Noir, edited by the sister of a Deonandia regular, will feature a story by yours truly. Weirdly, there's also a Youtube clip about the book:



Second, there's a new article up at Skiffy.ca, this one about the new Staragte movie, the Ark of Truth.

The Roundup

The roundup:

You've probably seen this before, but if not, witness the world's oldest animation.

In Sri Lanka, wild elephants block a polling booth during a national election. Insert your own obvious Republican joke, if you like. But, as a Sri Lankan friend put it: clearly the elephants are Tiger supporters.

Dig this: an innocent man when to prison for 26 years while lawyers, officers of the court, kept silent about what they knew of his innocence. Apparently, due the weirdness of the law, they would have been disbarred if they spoke out. I don't know about you, but when the choice is to save my career or save a man's life, I like to think that my career would not come out on top. I call cowardice.

This dude is trying to make it illegal to post anonymously on the Internet. Now, here in Deonandia I do not allow anonymous posting; it cuts down on the asshole quotient. But I would not like this policy to be a law of the land! This is a clear case of Big Brother once more interfering in our right to be assholes. Again: a private individual, like me, can set the rules for his own online space; but the government has no role here.

The state of California demands that its employees sign a "loyalty oath" to the state government. Do I need to explain why this is a crock of undemocratic shit?

The machine that is Skiffy.ca keeps trundling on. "Redparrot" has posted a review of the new TV show, "New Amsterdam."

Venereal Disease Hansen

This week's perusal of the trashbin of Right Wing thought leads us to one of the more troubling figures of American media: one Victor Davis Hansen. Hansen is currently behind interviewed on my favourite wonkish programme, TVO's The Agenda.

Now, Hansen can sound reasonable at times, such as in this article about Obama's liberalism. But the reason Hansen pisses me off so much is that he hides behind his academic creds too much. See, Hansen is a genuine scholar of medieval warfare. In that field, he is rightly untouchable, a dynamo of research. But he has used that status to, in my opinion, disingenuously offer intellectual heft to arguments of pro-imperialism and neoconservative aggression, without drawing a clear analytical link to his areas of expertise. Sort of like me claiming my bloggings about politics should be taken more seriously because I have a PhD in epidemiology; see the disconnect?

Hansen has argued, for example, that the "real problem" with Abu Ghraib wasn’t the “American mistreatment” — which he said was the work of a “single rogue jailer” — but the “serial release” of Iraqis, whom he calls “Islamic murderers.” He wrote this last summer, years after everyone else had accepted that the actions at Abu Ghraib were part of systematic US policy, and not the acts of a disobedient few. Seems his politics trump his research.

Hansen's military analysis expertise is baffling, especially since he constantly predicts that the US actions in Iraq will be won within 6 months. He did it here and here and here and in other places. Victor, we're 7 years into the war!

The strangest thing about Hansen, though, is the way he comes across on TV. The dispassion and detachment is both eerie and sickening, especially when his topic of choice always seems to devolve into advocacy for bombing Muslim civilians.

Today, he argued that the assumption of the asymmetry of terrorism is incorrect; it's not a matter of a heavily armed US soldiers battling tribesmen in cloth and knives. Rather, he said. "terrorists" (not insurgents or resistance) are geared with bullet proof jackets, modern training, gas masks and modern rifles, taking down half million dollar robots. I thought the latter was sort of a weird thing to say.

Meanwhile, that trove of intellectual wonder that we call the Western Standard Blog surprisingly had a good entry today, this one on the travesty of Canada deporting Iranian children into US prisons. That's right, pre-pubescent children are being held in US prisons, even though they have committed no crimes. Indeed, many of these children were born in Canada, and are therefore Canadian citizens; it's their parents who are being deported.

So I give credit to the fellow who posted on the Western Standard for finally getting a story right. But no, it does not end there. The regular Standard readers just had to comment on this sad tale. Here's a taste:

"Break out the violin. The problem is Iran not Texas or Canada. If monkeys weren't in charge of Iran those people would have been able to stay home and have a life without laying guilt trips on us." -John West

and

"Not my problem. Iranians are savages." -Philanthropist

Yep. That, my friend, is the nature of humanity and reasonableness amongst the so-called conservatives of Canada.

On another topic, Sneh sends us this remarkable video:




More info on the matter is here.


In Other News...

Got some more Skiffy.ca articles:

-a review of the new TV show Moonlight.
-a review of the new Doctor Who spinoff, The Sarah Jane Adventures

Morality Clause

The Daily Perv Link (TM) is dead, no more. Nada. And yet we have this.

In this week's installment of American Taliban is this story of a former male stripper not being disqualified from the TV show American Idol. Yes, the fellow was not disqualified, so what am I complaining about? I'm complaining that his former occupation was sufficiently distasteful that some folks even considered bumping him off the show.

Yes, I'm aware that these poor fools probably sign a contract with one of those insufferable "morality clauses". There was a rumour back in the day that Gates McFadden was temporarily bumped off of Star Trek: The Next Generation because her extra-marital pregnancy violated her morality clause contract with Paramount. I have no link or evidence for this rumour, so please treat it as unfounded.

My point of contention is this: why is being a stripper considered such an immoral thing that it even warrants inclusion in a "morality clause"? If an occupation is legal, if he pays taxes on his income, and is an otherwise contributing member of society, where do people get off excluding him because of "moral" reasons? And what defensibly constitutes a violation of a "morality clause"? What if the network had tried to bump him off because he was gay, or cohabitating without marriage, or a single parent, or --God forbid!-- smokes cigarettes?

The preachy nature of our society and its institutions is really starting to get on my nerves.

In Other News...

Nasty Nicky B sends us news that intrade.com has not counted out our man Al Gore from the US Presidency just yet. Read all about it on Nick's blog.


Also, got some new articles up at Skiffy.ca!

Dog Fucking Stories

"Say uncle!"

Thanks to Google Analytics, I took a brief look at the profiles of visitors to Deonandan.com. In this past month, I got about 2000 visits, half of whom came directly here, while the rest either got here from links or from search engine results.

It's the latter that I find curious. Know what the top search terms leading people to Deonandia were? Can you guess? I would think "science", "politics", "epidemiology" or even "Guyana" might be at the top.

Nope. The #1 search term was "Winkypedia", as a result of this post. Number two was "jello tree", as a result of this post. And the number 3 search term leading people to this, the virtual presence of all things Raywat Deonandan is.... "dog fucking stories."

That's right. People come here, not to learn about my scholarly or literary pursuits, or to engage in political discussion, or even to be entertained by my frivolous thoughts about the state of science fiction. They come because they want to wank over "dog fucking stories". My parents must be so proud.

On a similar note, do a Google search for "daily perv link" and see what comes up. Yes, I've made my mark on the Internet.

Other findings: The #5 top search term that brings people here is "wankmaster", followed closely by "big cervix". Number 10 is "how to summon a UFO", while #17 is "ugly brides". But my two favourites are #27 and #28: "light ass" and "must save porn", respectively.

Of course, the interesting part isn't that "light ass" and "dog fucking stories" lead people here. Rather, it's that people are unironically typing "light ass" and "dog fucking stories" into their search boxes.

In Other News...

Nasty Nicky B. is a much better writer than me. He has a nice post on the nature of democracy here.

George Bush believes Hillary Clinton will win the Democratic nomination and lose to a Republican. I can't say I fault his reasoning. Hillary Clinton is poison to the Democratic party: a Republican Lite. Should she win the nomination (and I think she will), this fellow believes Obama should run as an independent.

Fish Thieves

We begin today with news that a 14 year old girl has selected 10 songs to be played for astronauts aboard the space station. You can look at her song list here. It's true: in space, no one can hear you scream.

This Globe and Mail article states the obvious: immigrants to Canada are enormously better educated that native born Canadians. It's an infuriating pattern: Canada (and other Northern nations) suck the cream from developing nations, then force that cream into cab driver seats or janitorial jobs, forced to endure the increasingly pathetic banality that is Canadian intellectual life.

Yeah, I said it.

In today's installment of American Taliban: the Rapid Devolution of Us Civil Rights, we have this story of an American teen being barred by her school from serving on the student council because she used some profanity on her private blog, which was written and uploaded from her home. This is a clear violation of her civil rights, and yet another example of how the current power brokers are completely out of touch with the evolution of communication, technology and the nature of human social networking.

Get off this kid's case, Rumsfelds!

On a similar note is this story about school officials flipping their lids and calling the cops because school children are kissing. Yes, kissing. As we all know, kissing leads to circle jerks and dog fucking and that might just lead to --gasp!-- dancing.

Deonandia regular Mischa sends us this story of a man having invented a robot to patrol his home with vigilante zeal. Is Judgement Day around the corner?

Meanwhile, there's a new article up on Skiffy.ca. Go check it out. All this is gearing up for the launch of Deonandan.com Version 4.0 before the summer!

I leave you with this, 'cause it makes me giggle:

Stuff

Well well well. It seems Canada's "new" (i.e., hyper-conservative) is being accused of plotting to hasten the demise of the Presidential campaign of one Senator Barack Obama. It seems an Obama rep revealed to a Canadian diplomat, under the auspices of protected diplomatic speech, that Obama has no intention of re-opening NAFTA.

The Democrats are calling this NAFTA-gate, and it's a little juicy. The Canadian Right is remarkably monolithic, seemingly taking its marching orders from essentially six angry dudes in Calgary... if one is judge by their online nonsense. In fact, it's amazing how on-message Rightist bloggers and pundits have been with respect to Obama. They clearly dislike the man. So frankly, I am willing to believe the Conservative party of Canada has had some meetings to discuss what they can do to derail Obamamania. If NAFTA-gate is the best they can come up with, they really are intellectually bankrupt.

One of the juiciest bits is that the leading suspect for the leak is Prime Minister Harper's Chief of Staff, Ian Brodie. I met Professor Brodie briefly at an event not too long ago, and find much gossipy goodness in all these (possibly baseless) allegations... mostly because he didn't seem to appreciate my admittedly pornographic sense of humour.

Stay tuned, my droogies. I suspect this one won't die down for another few weeks.

Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton is still in it. And you know what, my money is on her. For now. Though I wish it wasn't.

Reservoir Bears

Ohhhhh, the pain! Once more I have a fracking head cold. These things always hit me when I have a crapload of stuff do, when I'm finally back on a good workout schedule, and when I'm about to head out on a trip. Grrrr.

First off, I want to thank the undergraduate residents at the University of Ottawa for having invited me to give the address at their yearly ball at the National Art Gallery this past weekend. Mmmm, 300 drunken 20-somethings dressed in their finest. Colour me happy! Seriously, they were a wonderfully accepting audience and just served to underscore why I love teaching university so much: despite the occasional whiner, the students are genuinely good folk.


The other Ray sends us the image above, which is taken from this list of the most inappropriate children's book covers.

Special Ed sends us confirmation that all we South Asians have broken hearts.

You know, faced with a choice between John McCain and Hilary Clinton for President of the USA, I would choose Clinton, only because I don't trust McCain's fetish for bombing shit. But Hilary ain't no prize. However, having Gloria Steinem stump for you and devalue the character shown by McCain as a POW is a bad move by Clinton. It takes strength and courage to persevere through capture and torture, then to come out of it sane enough to rise to great power, eloquence and influence. What has Hilary Clinton --or, for that matter, Gloria Steinem-- ever endured that is comparable to McCain's ordeal? Well, maybe each other.

Besides the obvious argument that we've had a Bush or Clinton in the White House now for 28 years, there are other qualities to Hilary Clinton that just make me grind my teeth. Crying is not a sin, and I get that it's a sign of stress and frustration more than a sign of weakness. But I want to see my leader cry in the face of great tragedy, not because she's just having a bad day. I would assume that pretty much every day as the Chief would be a bad day, and I would hope she would suck it up and do the work, and not just feel sorry for herself. Maybe it makes me an asshole, but I have always viewed public tears in anything other than a tragic scenario as the last refuge of the emotionally manipulative or desperate; and I certainly don't want to view the most powerful person in the world has either manipulative or desperate.

In other news, it seems Robert Carlyle will be the next Dr Who. This is sad news indeed. Carlyle is a great actor, yes. But David Tennant is the best Doctor since Tom Baker. More to the point, he's good looking, charming and youthful. Carlyle is none of those things.

Of course, for all future science fiction news, I will be directing you to the latest Deonandan.com website, Skiffy.ca.

Skiffy.ca

Three announcements today:

(1) Almost 2 years later, I finally get around to uploading the great presentation that my former co-workers at the Centre of Excellence for Child and Youth Mental Health put together for me when I left. The photo above is cropped from it. Access the whole set here.


(2) A while back, friend and colleague Peter Levesque interviewed me for a project he's doing on knowledge mobilization. You can access the transcript and podcast here.


(3) My latest project is a new website dedicated to science fiction reviews and articles. I call it "Skiffy.ca", after a popular mispronunciation of "sci-fi". I know that lots of sci-fi fans read this blog. If any of you is interested in contributing content to the new website, do let me know!