Hergest Ridge

Thank you Mr. Layton for your service to Canada and its people. You are an inspiration, and will continue to affect Canada in a positive manner for a long time to come.

Your genuine smile, your victories, legacy and memory live on in the hearts and minds of those you leave behind. You’re now absolved from the challenges you’ve taken on so bravely, only death able to stop you in your tracks. Thank you. Thank you, Sir.

Love is better than anger.
Hope is better than fear.
Optimism is better than despair.

Let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic and we’ll change the world.

– Jack Layton (1950 – 2011)

Couple of days ago, I’ve sent a newsletter to my web design business subscribers. Below is a resulting exchange.

Client: Good luck I am sure the socialists in france will appreciate the extra revenue from their oppresive tax regime

Me: I find your reply interesting, yet not sure which of the many possible angles to approach it from, nor the source of the “extra revenue” which might enter the pockets of the “socialists in France.” Perhaps I can get a better understanding if you point me to which part of my Email you’re specifically replying to – a direct explanation is fine too. :)

Client: I assume you will be a taxpayer to an arrogant [French] government that still forgets it lost the battle of waterloo, relied on the United States for its freedon from the Nazis not to mention it was the country that most cooperated with them. But in todays world, you come to a country [Canada] that is by far, a country with a better financial situation, ample clean water, a country that is renowned for its assistance to other countries (incuding france) yet you make snide comments about it. Basically I am saying good riddance to someone who has no understanding of what Canada offers. Despite having cellular service that is more expensive in large part due to the countries size Vs population. The US carriers are far more profitable per subscriber as is Virgin Mobile. Canada is not perfect but overall. France is not a country to be proud to be in. I am a proud Canadian…I know what the country has done for my family and many others. If high cell phone bills chased you away…good for you

Me: One of the things that makes Canada so great is the freedom to voice personal opinions. My knocks are against the gouging of consumers in Canada by cellular providers, and not Canada itself. Economies far smaller than Canada’s are host to a thriving cellular network sector.

The statement that I do not understand what Canada offers is a complete miss on your part – your clearly stated and mistaken understanding that I’ll be a taxpayer in France perhaps offering an insight to your deeper misunderstanding of my entire sentiment.

I’ve flown the world over with the maple leaf on my backpack – I, and those I met on the way know where my home is. Your bigoted remarks against the French are likely the most un-Canadian part of the entire exchange – and I mean that in the most non-judgemental way.

I loathe bigotry.

Exactly my sentiment, from someone who’s seen and studied the problem face to face.

“Let me clarify that point: it is an utter and complete failure [the war on drugs] – we cannot win the war an drugs. We have 20, 30 years of experience south of the border to illustrate that we cannot arrest our way through the problem. The drug war prohibition has created a lucrative underground economy for illicit drugs, and until we begin to look at that public policy measure called the war on drugs, we will never get on top of the gang situation or the drug trade.”

– Michael Chettleburgh

assume there is a heaven – some kind of a good place we go after we die. and imagine you’re a tired and worn old worker in some communist regime.

you’ve gone through near dozen “five year plans” while your living conditions got worse with each passing season. one day your heart holds its breath on you, and you’re done for. you get to heaven, of which you’ve never even heard of until you were on the in. you look around, and shit man! look at how all that hard work paid off!

the party knew all along, but left it as a wonderful surprise. they made sure we tightened our belts almost to the breaking point, but it was all for our own good. we cursed and complained, but the party didn’t let us stray from the path of success. long live the party, for its leadership and foresight! long live the party!

Third in a series of blog entries out of Iran, its liberal voices seeking a new way to live proud and free from political and religious tyranny.

I could feel the searing sun like a piece of burning coal on my veil… My veil and my long robes make me smell like a corpse… I walk on the street but can’t see the end… Far, far away, a group of trees are doing a choreographed dance…

And I on the street, I’m walking… Passersby, those in cars, can’t see me, as if I’m here but I’m not… Far, far away, I can see a mirror that has taken up the width of the street… And the nearer I get to it the more distant I become… I’m walking in a scorching heat that rips the breath out of you…

I catch a glimpse of myself, lighter, lighter, and lighter… With each step in my mind’s eye, I no longer feel the burden of my walk.

I’m wearing a white short-sleeved top, green shorts, and a scented straw hat… I no longer smell like a corpse or like my grandmother’s damp basement.

I walk freely and am spreading my fragrant sweet dreams among people who cannot see me… They’re running to get away from the harsh, searing sun… What ecstasy…

There is a hand on my shoulder that abruptly swallows my world… The toxic street voice with rage barks: “Pull your veil forward!” I hear, but I don’t want to hear it.

The street filth puts his hand in his back pocket to show he’s searching for something… His mime does not frighten me. He pulls out a transmitter from his putrid shirt pocket and this time pointing at his black patrol van, with fury, hollers: “What do you say now?”

As I was stranded between two worlds… at high noon… I was hungry and thirsty… in an endless street where right at the end the trees were doing a choreographed dance… My veil moved and came forward… A few steps away my veil moved back again.

– Atash

Second in a series of blog entries out of Iran, its liberal voices seeking a new way to live proud and free from political and religious tyranny.

We have struggled and yet we have survived… We have been humiliated, but we have not lost our dignity…

Do you remember when we were first married? We rented this room in south Teheran and had to share a toilet with the landlord… There was no bathroom and we had to use a public bath…

Do you remember that time when we took all the money we had and went to a posh restaurant uptown? We had a wonderful meal and gave the the rest of the money as a tip to the waiter… We had no money left for a taxi… so we walked all the way home across the whole town… We had a lot of energy then…

Do you remember the time our son was born? Through all the bombing and war… in that climate of death we built a new life… And the evening our daughter was born… With two kids and work, you still went to university and you were top of your class…

Do you remember getting war rations for dried milk? To prove that you had no milk, you had to show your breasts to the “sister” at the Komiteh every week… but we would not have that… “We’ll work overtime and buy dried milk on the open market… But we’re not showing your breasts to anyone!”

I said all this stuff so you know that I haven’t forgotten… our mutual troubles, growth and love can never be destroyed. We are just starting… with more energy then ever before…

We will go forward to change a world that was unjust for our children and make it a fairer place for our grandchildren.

First in a series of blog entries out of Iran, its liberal voices seeking a new way to live proud and free from political and religious tyranny.

Your Holiness,

Have you ever fallen in love? Have you ever gazed into the crimson of the wine, when you can still feel the spot where she kissed you on your eyelids? Have you ever danced? Have you ever had Maz Maz dipped in Mast Moseer? Have you ever worn jeans? Do you know what Mum roll-on deodorant is? Have you ever cried at night? How many years did you go to school? Have you ever made abghosht? Have you ever got a barbeque going? Tell me, what is Newton’s Third Law?

How many times has the scent of springtime in Shiraz driven you wild? Have you ever kissed a dog? Have you ever listened to Persian classical music? Or what about rap? Do you ever whistle?

Have you ever kissed her neck? What about behind her ears?

Have you ever downloaded an MP3 from the Internet? Do you ever ask the guy at the kiosk selling cigarettes how he’s doing? Ever walked through town at midnight? Have they ever raided your home and confiscated your books?

Have you ever been forced into exile? Has it ever happened that you just can’t get the pattern of those tiles in your mother’s kitchen out of your head (for three nights in a row), but you just can’t remember the color? Have you ever called your mother up from far away and asked her to describe the color of those tiles – at the mention of which you both uncontrollably sob?

Have you ever longed for the windows of your apartment in Tehran?