Better now

Have calmed down. There's nothing like a long meander up and down trails in beautiful fall scenery to restore one's equilibrium and perspective. Don't see why I get so wound up about the decline of a country I left behind over two years ago. Maybe it's because I still give a monkeys.

Anyhow; my fieldcraft must be on the wane because all I heard and saw was wildlife disappearing into the distance. Must have been breathing too hard, or that scented shower gel was a mistake. The sun is periodically shining. Ommm. The world is as it should be. Well, at least our little enclave is.

Neighbours have developed this great new way of Quail hunting. Wait for Quail to settle in the shrubbery in your front yard. Send stupid house pet of a dog bounding out through side door. Quail will spook, and a couple of them will perform Kamikaze-like collisions with the nearest solid surface, to wit, neighbours house. Walk round front yard, pick up brace of dead Quail, prepare and cook for supper, or throw into freezer. The saving in ammunition is considerable, and there's no breaking your teeth on shot. Sigh. Life is so hard.

Well, Mrs S and I have come to a decision; we're moving. Not very far, just a mile or so into a bigger place with an even more spectacular view and bigger front yard. When all bills are taken into account we'll only be looking at a CDN$400 increase in monthly expenditure, so that's not too bad. We're earning more now to cover that. New place has three big bedrooms, big kitchen, great front room and dining room, a Wood burning stove, solar heated swimming pool, and room for visitors to come and stay. The view from the front window is amazing, a one hundred and twenty degree plus vista of forests, Islands and sea. We already know the neighbour folk, and apart from next doors oversized puppy, a German Shepherd sized old 'Yaller Dawg' whose slightly overenthusiastic greetings freak my own slightly more restrained English born mutt out, there are no issues we know of. The neighbours have already offered trailers and willing hands to help us get settled in, so no need to hire a professional removals gang, just buy in a couple of cases of beer and a large freezer pack of steaks. The rest, as they say, will be history.

Mrs S will be in England over Christmas and so will miss the trauma of moving. She is leaving all the logistics to me; Internet, phone, postbox, bank detail changes, and keeping immigration up to date with our new address. Nothing onerous. I propose to have a nice quiet time and treat myself to a boxed set of DVD's and a computer game or two to help the time pass while she's away. I will pine a little of course, but that is all to the good. Me, the Dog, the view and some snow; that will be my Christmas this year. Add a little Jamesons and my soul will restore itself. Not that I'll be on my own, neighbours will see to that. I will share my extensive knowledge of Single Malts, and they will teach me the rules and acceptable mores of Ice Hockey. We'll sink some beers, barbecue a few steaks on the new side porch, and it's a big covered porch. Fair trade.

Have put off applying for a gun licence while this business over the long gun registry runs it's course. At present, all guns have to be registered and listed, which makes it difficult for me to take up invitations to go hunting at the moment because of all the bureaucracy involved in sorting out permits. You feel a bit of an idiot stalking without armament or a decent camera. However, all this will change. Mrs S will be bringing back the grip and riser section of my old Hoyt competition bow from the UK in January. and I'll buy new bow limbs, arrows, and strings from Bucky's down in Duncan and get a full years hunting licence some time in February. Springtime will be spent at la chasse and stocking up the freezer. Good 'ere, innit?

Today is also Remembrance day, a National holiday. Offices and many shops are shut. There will be the usual parades and services, and I will ponder my own forbears part in the upheavals of that time.

It took a Canadian to write that.

As an aside; In Flanders Fields inspired this much lesser known work from an American.

I don't believe it

We all used to laugh when Victor Meldrew, the fictional arch curmudgeon, that misanthropes misanthrope, vouchsafed his famous catchphrase; "I don't believe it!" Now having read the news over the past few days I can only stand aghast and echo that sentiment to the metaphorical rafters.

My swear gland has finally been bestirred from it's long somnolence by this piece of news; Every e-mail, message, phone call, web site visit or other such communication passing through UK jurisdiction is going to be logged and held on a database. Which every local and national government flunky including Postman Pat's sodding cat can view without benefit of search warrant. Well at least if this article in the UK's Daily Telegraph is to be believed. Not that it'll stop any real terrorists. They'll just carry on using Phone cards, free Wi-Fi and offshore web resources which said databases will be as much good tracking as next doors flaming hamster. On the other hand, you complain over the phone to your mum that you're having trouble with one of your kids (Who doesn't?) and Child Services might just be the ones kicking down your door. HMRC might come meandering through your front hallway without a bye, leave or thank you if you go looking at one too many offshore bank accounts via the web. You will find yourself under investigation by the Police if your kids go surfing the web for ringtones and end up accessing a seriously sick hardcore porn site as our youngest once did. You have been warned.

It is rare for me to lapse into the pejorative but f*cking hell. Which utter w*nkst*in of a c*t*mite thought that was a jolly good wheeze eh? Which complete and utter onanistic waste of semen allowed that to come to pass? I would describe the implementors of such a policy as of lower worth than a putrid vaginal discharge, but that would be to decry perfectly honest, hard working bacteria. The originators of such a poorly thought through scheme make the most mean spirited Traffic Warden (And I could name a few real copper bottomed c*nts - I used to work with the b*st*rds) look like the reincarnation of St f*cking Francis of s*dding Assisi they are that low. The most drug addled adrenalin fuelled d*ckw*t with a lobotomy has more competence and common sense. So why the f*cking s*dding *rs*h*ling hades are powers of this magnitude being handed to those who couldn't run a f*cking bath properly?

The only wonder is that there isn't widespread protest from both left and right of the political spectrum. Why aren't British MP's being dragged out of their houses and stuck in the pillory for failing to preserve freedom of speech?

Millions of people from my Mother and Father's generation are laid out in f*cking rows under the ground because they believed in fighting oppression. Hundreds of thousands from Britain alone never lived past twenty bloody f*cking five because they believed that they had to defend their land. Almost half a bloody million Britons in five years, and all their sacrifice has been pissed up the wall by a bunch of greedy traitors and sodomites unfit to lick dogsh*t off the streets.You can tell I'm annoyed, can't you?

Ah b*gger it. I wash my hands of the place. There's no point; no f*cker in Britain cares enough any more. Democracy in the UK has failed because not enough people cared to do anything about it. Only a few were willing to even protest.

Me? Over the past thirty years I wrote to my MP about the various threats to liberty such as latterly the Civil Contingencies act and RIPA, signed petitions, attended protests (Yes I have), joined pro freedom organisations, lobbied, and was roundly ignored and mocked for my troubles. Ha ha, wasting your time Bill. Never happen. You're talking b*ll*cks. Stupid man. Well, girls. Quoth Uncle Bill in low and dangerous tones; you're still there, and I'm over here in Canada, free to walk my way until doomsday if it so please me. How does it feel to be property, huh?

Well as the country that founded the Anglosphere sinks slowly into the morass of the EU, all I can say is goodbye. It's a shame, but there you go. All good things as they say, must come to an end; and now the end for Britain is here. Straws, Camels backs, all that jazz. Do what you're told peon and it's back to the good old days of medieval feudality when you were mobile property, to be disposed of at the notion and whim of your social superiors.

All on the back of the excuse of terrorism. Well boys, we all know who the real terrorists are don't we?

What the hell. I console myself thus; at least the sodomites who sold you down the river won't ever breed. F*ck it, I'm going hunting. Comment if you like; I no longer care.

This rant is at an end.

*The use of self censoring asterisks throughout this post is at the request of Mrs S, who thought that mere swearing simply lowered the tone of the whole blog. It's probably funnier this way, or would be if the subject matter wasn't such a cause for concern. Hey, the UK's your country, or at least it used to be.

The night the wall fell

The Berlin wall and the evil of state sponsored communism began it's final dissolution on the night of November 9th 1989. I remember watching the events in Berlin unravel on the TV with a growing sense of hope, and dare I say it joy.

For some reason I always associate this song with the fall. I think it was popular around 88-89 and my convoluted consciousness made one of its jump cut attributions. Funny thing, memory.

Good song though. Reminds me of old friends from my wilder days. Hi ho. Nostalgia, not what it used to be, eh?

I want one

Just the ticket for commuting during the next few Canadian Winters. Serious kit.

H/T Theo Spark

Sunday morning meanderings

New laptop is buzzing along, and Mrs S has gleefully taken possession of the new machine for when she is travelling in the UK over Christmas and the new year. Our latest technological addition allowed her to be gassing with her Mother and sister on Skype whilst having a leisurely lie-in. Youngest and eldest are currently in conference with her ladyship. I've cooked my wife breakfast in bed, walked the dog and traded gossip with the neighbours, and yet Mrs S is still in her PJ's. Lazy cat.

This morning I've also been reading the comments section of various UK Sunday papers and am trying not to leave cryptically smug little 'told you so' messages all over the place. The Canadian and US Governments have publicly stated that they aren't going to get suckered into yet another banking bail out. Old Jonah Brown wants to levy a global tax on everything to pay yet more banker's bonuses, and the rest of the world has rightly told him to sod off. He's committed the final act of treason against the people of the UK by ratifying the Lisbon Treaty. When are the tumbrils going to start rolling then? I'm not holding my breath.

Seriously, it's just like a 1970's political time warp. The parallels are that obvious. Bail outs and taxpayer funded support of an industry sector instead of letting one large company go to the wall. Last time it was Coal, Steel and the Automotive sector, this time round it's the financial sector which needs rebuilding. Then it was Denis Healey with his 'soak the rich' campaign, now it's 'soak everyone' because the rich didn't become rich by waiting for some heavy handed Burgermeisters Bailiffs to kick in the front door. The money will have flitted it's way on electronic wings out of the UK government's jurisdiction long before HMRC come a-knocking. Those taxes everyone voted for have to come from somewhere, and guess where that's going to be? Got it in one.

Anyway, that's enough British Columbian based smugness for now. There are favourites to import from our old XP machine, data files to import, and I have to show my lady wife how the various gadgets can whip stuff straight onto your hard drive without wires or strings attached. All this clever stuff doesn't just do itself you know.

Ditching the preload

Have spent a leisurely morning reconfiguring the new L510 and getting rid of all the extraneous stuff manufacturers like to clutter up your hard drive with. First was the security 'trial' software. Replaced it with Avast! Which doesn't seem to slow your machine down quite so much as it's more heavy duty counterparts. Got rid of a lot of the other stuff including Microsoft Works, and replaced it with Openoffice. Added Skype, checked the connectivity and applied for my free Windows 7 upgrade. Configured Mrs S's job related software and everything is whizzing along at a pace that makes our reasonably quick desktop seem positively slothlike. Job done.

Interesting discussion with In-laws last night. They live in Minnesota, USA and are planning to wrap up their affairs there and head north of the border to our locale within the next year or two. The wine flowed, and talk loosened, and I recall the following conversation before it all got too blurry;
"So Bill, would you ever go back to the UK?" Said Brother in law.
"No. There's nothing left there for me." Quoth I "Only my mother, and she's happy so long as she hears from me once a month. I've nothing I want to go back to. What about you?"
"Ever?" Tests brother in law.
"Not really."
"Mmm, me too."
"I don't miss England at all, apart from the odd wistful longing for a quick blast down the old Fosse Way down to the West Country."
"Really? Yet you wouldn't ever think of going back?"
"No. One of the things that always makes me smile is that the Welsh refer to England as Lloegyr; the lost lands."
"Your meaning?" Asks Brother in law. Mrs S tweaks my leg, she knows I'm about to 'go off on one'. I take the hint and wind my neck back in a little.
"When we were traveling the trans Canada in 2007, we kept on coming across ex-pat English truck drivers who all said more or less the same thing; that England isn't England any more." I explained.
"Well not for you, you haven't been back there in over two years." Observes Brother in law. "It's like the past being another country."
"There is that." I conceded. "You certainly can't get there from here, nor would you want to."
"Mm. Everything changes. England never really was England anyway." We shared a philosophical nod and the booze got passed again. Tonight Mrs S was driving, so I could indulge my thirst in a modest little Okanagan Pinot Noir. We have vinyards in Canada, so we're quite not the cultural backwater some might think. Ice Wine is the big favourite, but we get some nice dryish Reislings and there's a very pleasant Cabernet-Malbec we bought on Saltspring Island last year.

There was a slightly awkward but thoughtful expatriate silence and we watched the rain for a while. I found myself thinking about the UK's slide into becoming a mere province of the EU, and how preventable it all was. However, the politico's of the UK want it that way, and short of armed insurrection that's what is going to happen. Everyone in the room seemed aware of that acutely unpleasant possibility. The girls weren't too happy about their husbands discussing politics, however obliquely, and for a minute the social temperature dropped.

"Good chili." I remarked about our evening's repast to break the disquiet. "Superb stuff."
"You're hired." Joked Sister in law.
"Damn. I was hoping to get Sunday night off." Was Brother in law's rejoinder. Chili is his signature dish, and he does it exceptionally well.

The bonhomie surged back into our conversation, and talk turned to other matters. Shortly after this point my normally video-like memory skipped a track due to alcohol fueled misalignment, and my recollection became no longer trustworthy. Any further conversations of this ilk will have to remain unreported to the commissars. Thoroughly pleasant evening though. Doing it again tonight, although without the Chili. It will be Mrs S's turn for the odd libation this time, as we take turns to drive.

Weather is not climate

Yet snow was observed on the top of Mt Benson, Nanaimo this morning (No photo as I was driving at the time). The top 100 metres, possibly more, had a liberal coating of the white stuff. This is considerably earlier than usual in my recollection. Down below at the water's edge it's been chucking it down with rain for the past two days and October has been cooler than average, so has the beginning of November.

According to 'most scientists' it's supposed to be getting warmer isn't it? Isn't it? Yeah, right.

Snow tyres - check. Winter clothing - check. Snow shovel - check. Logs ready for winter - check. Extra food supplies - check. Extra Whiskey - check.

We're ready. Bring it on.

Upsetting the staff

Last week,Mrs S looked at my sorry old Thinkpad and vouchsafed; "Bill, we need a new laptop." I was a bit reluctant myself, being only a mere male and quite comfortable with the unashamed chunkiness of my aging 600e. However, words have been exchanged on the matter, and in the interests of domestic harmony we have purchased seven hundred Canadian dollars (Including tax and Recycling fee) worth of Toshiba L510. 4Gb Ram, 320gb HDD DVD/RW and all the rest. Did we want a Netbook? No. Did our budget run to a Mac? No. So the Toshy it was.

This model was chosen for it's portability, convenience and reputation. We could have had a bigger screen, but chose not to, we could have had a full size keyboard, but well, the overall decision was that Mrs S didn't like the bigger keyboard. Neither of us are gamers, so the faster video cards were a waste of resources, and as for purchasing Microsoft Office - well the overall agreement was "Nah." Which I'm sure will be a cause for much wailing and gnashing of teeth from the ranks of Microsoft stockholders. Not.

Armed with this decision, this morning we entered one of the local computer stores which had the L510 featured as one of their sale offers. We were greeted by a different sales person from the one we had been dealing with on the previous two days, who did not seem to realise that we knew exactly what we wanted and no more, thank you. We were offered a particular anti-virus programme for only a few dollars more. I said no thank you. We were offered for only two hundred dollars the stores extended warranty. I said no thank you. Ooh sir and ma'am you just have to have the miniature USB mouse with the extendable lead. No, I said, we already have two. Well you have to have an anti-surge protector. Erm, no thank you, said I, we already have one. You could see this particular sales assistant becoming ever more determined to reel off her spiel about what we had to purchase. The face tightened, and she was almost fanatically resolved to tell us obviously non technical people who knew nothing about computers. Yeah, right. Despite me having imaged, configured, diagnosed and repaired more laptops and desktops than I can comfortably think about over the past fifteen years. She had her conned-by-book recitation to regale us proles with, and didn't catch the meaningful looks from the senior sales staff who I had spoken to at some length the day before.

We were lectured on how to set up the laptop and treated to an almost finger wagging performance of; you-will-not-interrupt-the-setup-process. Not to mention; you-will-not-clean-the-screen-with-windex. Until we poor peasants were allowed to part with out money and leave the store with our precious merchandise. I was trying not to roar with laughter, but my better half gave me one of her 'Don't you dare Bill' looks, so I kept my mouth clamped firmly shut. She knows me too well does my wife. I would have happily stood there and gently taken the piss all afternoon. Of such things are our daily amusements constructed.

Afterwards we were so exhausted from the whole performance that we just had to go and get a cup off coffee and a bun.

What was it Alexander Pope once wrote? "A little learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring." As applicable to sales assistants as to the rest of us. Hi ho. Time to go get dressed up and off to in laws for feeding this evening.

So Michael Crichton was right....

I've been reading Crichton's work since 'The Andromeda Strain' in the 1970's. Enjoyable 'cautionary tale' fiction, but just that; fiction. Crichton knew how to use a theme just far fetched enough to interest his readers. People love fairy tales and Crichton understood that. Why else do fantasy books from Harry Potter to Sword and Sorcery sell so well?

Michael Crichton once posited that belief in environmentalism and man made climate change had all the tenets of a religion. Well now there is proof that it has the status of a religion. Mind you, anyone who was so much of an idiot to try and force his company's commercial activities to suit his own belief system deserves to get fired. Call me an old fashioned old silly for thinking this, but if you get hired to do a job, then you go and do what you're paid to do; not fart around doing your own commercially unrelated thing and arguing the toss with everyone else because they won't do things 'your' way.

Posting this week will be light, as the fall Salmon run has just started and the In Laws are in town. We may also be graced with a brief royal visit. No doubt the Windsor family are looking to emigrate to somewhere decent like BC now the UK is heading towards final dissolution. Better put the kettle on then.

Hot news

Coppers blog is back up again. No new posts from Dave at the time of writing, but at least we can browse the archives.

Welcome back!

My little troll

I have a little troll, who I’m keeping as a pet,
He’s really such a little sweetie, but he doesn’t seem to get,
The web is not anonymous, I know perzackly where he is,
The silly boy keeps changing names, and railing out his spite,
Yet he can’t see I know it’s him, just spoiling for a fight.

I have a little troll, who I really think is trite,
His ignorance is boundless, yet thinks that he is right,
On topics such as climate change, he hasn’t got a clue,
Regurgitating his beliefs throughout my comment page,
I should be grateful really, because he makes me look so sage,

I have a little troll, whose brain is not the best,
Yet I’ll pat him as I’m passing, for he’s really not a pest,
I’ll chuck him ‘neath his cyber chin, and ignore his paltry jibes,
He’ll insult everything I love, just to try and get a mention,
He’ll threaten mayhem he can’t do, ‘cos he can’t get attention,

I have a little troll, who is so much goshdarned fun,
He brings out wicked thoughts in me, of mockery is but one,
However I have grown up things to do, and tasks I must perform,
My little troll forgive me, I must go to work awhile,
Because the only fool we see is you, while you steep in your own bile.

Regards,

Bill Sticker

The Wootton report

I've been reading a UK Home Office document from the late 1960's called the Wootton Report. Apparently this was binned without being read by the Callaghan Government of the time, or possibly they did read it, but the findings did not gel with what the politicians of the day wanted. Rather like this row rumbling on between the UK Home Office and it's drug advisory team.

The Wootton report sets out, in fairly dry tones, the allegations about Cannabis and it's (ab)use and makes a studied comment and judgment which tends to challenge some of the prejudices about ingestion, toxicity, psychological impacts, and whether or not it is a 'gateway drug' to more harmful substances such as opiates.

Hey, don't take my word for it, take a look for yourself. It walks all over a bunch of mainstream myths. For example, Para 70 from section vi states;

"we think it is also clear that, in terms of physical harmfulness, cannabis is very much less dangerous than the opiates, amphetamines and barbiturates, and also less dangerous than alcohol."

This document is around forty years old yet it's recommendations remain, in my view at least, worthy of consideration.

If we're all 'deniers'....

Apart from the physics, those of us who who have taken even a cursory look at the 'science' of CO2 driven climate change / global warming and smelled a very large and noisome rattus norvegicus may well ask the following question; why, if the 'science is settled' and the 'truth is indisputable' do those who raise valid concerns and opposing views need to be gagged or silenced. The 2008 Manhattan declaration which stated that the science was far from 'settled' attracted over 31,000 signatories from the scientific community. 114 highly qualified specialists actually attended the conference, 707 specialists with appropriate qualifications openly endorsed the document. How much media coverage did it generate? In the mainstream, very little, and much of that dismissive.

Surely if we're all wrong and the 'truth' on CO2 driven climate change / global warming so self evident, then there would be no need for this sort of thing.

In the words of ABC's Chris Uhlmann "Denier" is one of those words, like "racist", which is deliberately designed to gag debate. And what is wrong with being a sceptic? The Greek root of the word means "thoughtful" or "inquiring" and that used to be a virtue.

What's wrong with being a sceptic anyway? The guys who're watching the rest of humanity about to leap off a metaphorical cliff and saying "Er, guys. Are you making a mistake here?" Is that such a bad thing? Even the so called 'father of global warming' Roger Revelle called for caution as far back as 1991, only to be slandered post mortem. David Bellamy, a man for whom I still have much respect as a TV Eco-evangelist got sidelined because he said publicly the whole CO2 climate change thing didn't sound right. Christopher Landsea of the Atlantic Oceanographic & Meteorological Laboratory and contributing author to the IPCC's 2004 report. Mitchell Taylor, Polar Bear expert barred from December 2009's up and coming Copenhagen climate summit.

The list is extensive and damning. Only those no longer dependent upon the public purse for research funding can afford to voice an alternate view. That is how rotten things have become in this area of science.

This begs the question; If these guys are / were so 'wrong' why should they have to be gagged at all? What about empirical proof? Or is it as I suspect, that the CO2 driven change / warming 'proofs' and 'models' are all highly suspect and should not be acted upon.

H/T Antikva for the Herald Sun article.

Gosh, all this row over the weather eh? To think it was once deemed to be a safe subject for conversation.

Update: H/T Wattsuwithat. Letter re 'consensus' to the US senate from 160 Physicists.

The nub of the problem

Was meandering through the dear old Torygraph and came across this entry in Daniel Hannan's blog. The subject was these high level resignations.

I was moved to post the following:

"The problem here is that a Politician (Who knows little beyond their particular party political dogma) tells the Expert (Who know relatively little beyond their specialisations) what the ‘answer’ should be. The Expert disagrees with the preset, politically decided answer, and says so publicly. In order not to look a fool the Politician demands that the Expert resign.

Call me a fool if you like, but what the hell is the point of hiring someone to advise government, then demanding their head when they won’t give out the ‘right’ answer? That’s where the problem lies."

Exactly so; what is the point when the 'answer' is already decided? That's a morons way of working. Mind you, back in my UK contracting days, I occasionally talked myself out of a job by not 'toeing the party line'. Management would ask me for an honest opinion; I would deliver my report, then having asked for that specific advice the Management plump for the option they'd already decided upon, even though said option was the worst thing they could possibly do. Then when the project I was supposed to be working on all ended in tears, the contractor who delivered the specialist advice which wasn't taken (me) was fired as the scapegoat for the 'failure' while the real culprits (the idiots who arbitrarily decided what the answer was without advice) escaped without sanction. On several projects, where Tech support, the IT management team and the contractors (Of which I was one) were all in complete agreement; still the Suits upstairs decided (Much to the chagrin of anyone with even a smidgen of technical knowledge) to fund a different technology which was subsequently dumped because it never worked. Cue much shaking of heads and 'told you so's' as all the contractors moved on and the full time support staff hit the pub.

Like most Techies, I have a fundamental distrust of MBA bearing Suits (Called 'Suits' because the physical contents of the Suit are interchangeable, but the dogma driven output remains the same). One sometimes thinks that their decision making processes could be improved by replacing whole office blocks full of Managerial staff with a blindfolded CEO picking options from the gossip columns of the Daily Wail with a pin. The same for politicians.

Over here in BC, although corporate culture has a say you can at least stand your ground on a 'prove me wrong' basis without being handed your pink slip (P45). Similarly, Canadian politicians (at least where I live) are still accessible because they aren't too grand to talk to people, and aren't too scared / self important to walk the streets alone without a Police escort and / or entourage. Nor do they appear ill advised enough to believe that politics of whatever colour is the answer; rather than the source of the problem. Thank goodness for that.