Last week the Doomsday Clock moved one minute closer to midnight. Time now, 11:55 PM. Five minutes to doomsday. This symbolic timepiece was conceived to reflect nuclear danger in 1947. Originally set at 11:53 PM, since then it has limped along through 20 changes. In the last few years, the original concept has fizzled into uselessness.
The most blatant limping began on the evening of October 22, 1962 when President Kennedy came on TV and announced that the Soviet Union had installed missile sites capable of delivering nuclear warheads on the United States. Construction of sites was also underway for delivery as far north as Hudson Bay and as far south as Peru. The U.S. proposed that 1) ‘All ships of any kind bound for Cuba from whatever nation or port will, if found to contain cargoes of offensive weapons, be turned back’ and 2) ‘It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the western hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.’ Continue reading Doomsday Clock Fizzles Along
Some years ago, I lost my closest friend to lung cancer. I think of Dave often because of a legacy, almost a special gift, he left me. It’s not a material one, rather it’s an attitude and approach that he honed and fine tuned until it became integral to how he thought and conducted himself in business and personal relationships.
Dave spent the first half of his working life as a sales trainer and executive in a tough business, the life insurance industry. In those last years in head office, Dave took up a hobby. Every weekend he loaded up his van and headed out to one of the biggest flea markets in southern Ontario. Over the years, his spot became permanent and indoors. He called it simply Dave’s Place. Evenings during the week he was out scouring Toronto for stock. I once asked him why he did it when he had such a good regular job. He answered, “Because I love the action.” Eventually, Dave’s income from this hobby was paying more than his job at head office so Dave took the big step. He resigned as a training exec and opened up his own business and an antique shop. Continue reading Dave’s Question
Hillary Clinton’s position on the Falklands this week provides Canada with an opportunity to right an old wrong imposed by the United States just over a century ago. The American Secretary of State encouraged Argentina and Britain to sit down and talk about their claims and the future of these tiny islands, much to the chagrin of the Brits whose position has been no-way unless the islands’ inhabitants agree to such negotiations. Since Clinton is so gung-ho on talking, Prime Minister Stephen Harper should insist that the Americans look to their own backyard and re-open the issue over the Alaskan panhandle. Canadians who know their history appreciate that blatant travesty of justice this old border dispute represents. Continue reading Thank You, Mrs. Clinton
David Murdoch will be out for blood as the Scots meet Canada’s champion Kevin Martin this Saturday. If you think Murdoch represents Great Britain, you’re sadly mistaken. Every Canadian curler knows Murdoch and his team of Byers, Smith and MacDonald as simply The Scottish Team. Those same Canadian curlers also know that the game of curling is an ancient plot against the New World, hatched by the devious Scots centuries ago.
The terrible feud that has grown between our countries dates back to the very beginning of curling near Paisley Abbey in Scotland. Curling would not have been born then except that times were difficult. Local stonemasons were particularly suffering. In fact, building new stone cottages was at such an all-time low that the stonemasons decided to heave their building rocks into the White Cart Water, a tributary of the River Clyde, as a gesture of protest. Not an easy task. Just carrying these granite stones to the water’s edge was a challenge because the banks of shore were so steep. Several enterprising masons solved the problem by attaching temporary wooden handles to each rock the night before the protest. Continue reading Blood from Stone
This post is not by a Canadian who dislikes Americans. Nothing could be further from the truth. I like Americans. Most of the ones I’ve met are smart and friendly. I just dislike most American politicians. That’s only a misdemeanor compared to how I feel about Canadian politicians. Visiting Ottawa is a pleasure for me. I love the galleries, the museums and the strolls along the locks. But I have never ever entered my country’s parliament buildings. Suffice to say that I suffer from high blood pressure and I just know if I pass through those portals, my heart will explode in my chest. I know this attitude towards my government is immature, but when you’ve been diddled by them for most of your life, it’s tough to be magnanimous. Continue reading Harper Kicks Some Obama…, But