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Thursday, February 7, 2013

Electronic Voting Quashed

Our consistent apathy and the aloofness with which we apply ourselves to current political arenas must sicken those who can only watch from afar in their repressive homes dabbing the falling tears from their cheeks as they cry for our freedoms. We have become so lazy, in fact, in exercising our duty to actively participate in elections that we have entertained online and electronic voting.

It is an expensive undertaking to conduct a political election, and low voter turnout continues to frustrate officials and candidates alike. Entire ridings can be won with small percentages of eligible voters who brave the inconveniences and overcome the excuses generated in their minds as barriers to making their way to the polling stations.

It is therefore no surprise that proposals flood jurisdictions to include electronic and online voting as a convenient effort to increase voting, particularly among younger generations that feel excluded and ignored by all levels of government. And while communicating and engaging these absent voters on their terms is admirable on the surface, we cannot discount the potential for significant fraud and tampering of results that has already proven to have adverse and disastrous consequences for countries and the world. One only has to point to the ‘voting irregularities’ that placed Florida election results under the microscope that propelled Bush Jr. into a four year term of war mongering, culminating in a collapsed world economy, questionable violations of personal liberties and freedoms, and equally suspect black operations.

No election should ever be conducted electronically. Period. The absence of a paper trail and auditing opportunity is enough reason to protect elections as one of those things in life that cannot be saved by technological advancement. The potential for election tampering is just mammoth.

Bravo to the City of Edmonton municipal council for soundly defeating administration’s attempt to introduce internet voting for its upcoming 2013 election. Councillors are correct in being extremely wary of welcoming any form of electronic voting for the reasons they publicly disclosed, and for reasons they undoubtedly quietly considered. Having a major Canadian city dispense with the notion of incorporating internet voting should set a benchmark for other jurisdictions worldwide to mirror their opposition to any such madness.

The cost of conducting an election is something we must absorb as a price we pay for those rapidly eroding liberties we pride ourselves on having. If voter turnout is not at the levels some would like, then it can be inferred that the general population is just tickety-boo with how things are running and that it is probably as good as it would be regardless of who is steering the ship.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

The Final Gift of Conservation

For those committed to lessening their footprint on earth, there exists one final tribute that you can bestow on the planet that sustained you for all your years, and that is to prearrange a natural burial.

Burials around the world are conducted in a wide variety of ways, but here in North America they generally include the body prepared using toxic chemicals, placed in a wooden or metal casket, which is then buried in a concrete housing, covered with dirt, and a gravestone marker placed atop.

In a natural burial, things are a little bit different. The dearly departed is prepared without the use of chemical cocktails, buried in a more simplistic style of a shroud or a biodegradable casket, and the grave marker is a shrub or tree. Loved ones can locate the eternally slumbering by use of the GIS (geographic information system) employed by the cemetery.

The decomposing body in a natural burial fertilizes the ground with nutrients, contributes to the food supply of bugs and insects, and fosters new generations of life. It truly represents the full circle of life and regeneration.


Originally published June 19, 2010

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

I Love A Rainy Night

When the rest of the air is still and droplets of rain dance on the roof in rhythm, I could stay awake all night to listen to the symphony they play. That is, if my body would allow me this one simple pleasure. For it seems the well-choreographed performance serves the dual purpose of singing a velvet lullaby, and in no time I am lost in dream land.

Awakened during the night by the log sawing snores of Asylum, the world’s worst guard dog and my ever present companion, is a sharp contrast to the peaceful rock-a-bye that lulled me into the trance of serenity only a few hours before. Nudging Asylum to interrupt his industrious fog horn, it is I who must turn over to expose my almost deaf ear, leaving the good ear planted firmly into the cool depths of a feathered pillow. Bliss.

The pampered pooch, oblivious to his war time assault on my sanctuary, wets his dry mouth audibly, and resumes his comfortable position, apparently forgiving me for agitating his regal slumber. I swear he was a cat in a previous life.

It is pouring outside. Almost violently so. Even the deaf ear can transmit the poundings of Mother Nature’s wash. But inside, in the warmth and comfort of home, hidden under a thick duvet, all I hear is a concert building to a crescendo. The best part.

Full of piss and vinegar, the percussion drives the thundering pulse, flooding the senses with an overpowering wave that the mind surfs to the crest. The blood curdling claps from above drench with a new thrust of down pouring. The sky illuminates with relentless natural fireworks. It’s like the boogey man in the closet, the shadow following your walk, by God, it’s like the first time anyone had sex! Electrifying and terrifying in unison.

And then without warning, its peak achieved, the very public presentation of its climax performed, the downpour returns to the precipitous sprinkling that first enveloped me in her bosom. My heart races against the quiet composure of the rain dance, hypnotizing me once again.

As if on cue, counting my forty winks, I slip back into a sweet repose listening to the soundtrack of a rainy night.


Originally published September 2010

Habitat For Bats

Bats can be found in almost every country in the world and provide vital services for their ecosystem from pollinating plants, acting as nature’s pest controllers, and fertilizing soil by providing rich nutrients in their poop, called guano. The guano is so rich that up until about a century ago, it was harvested as a natural resource in the United States, and the practice continues now in some other countries.

There are 1100 species of bats, ranging in size from weighing less than a penny right on up to those with a six foot wingspan, and can be credited with protecting our agricultural crops by eating the many pests that can threaten our food supply. Often misunderstood due to their villainous portrayal in movies, there are only a few species of bats that are considered carnivorous, and because bats are nocturnal, it is relatively rare that you will actually see one. With the exception of four species located in specific areas of the United States, all bats in North America are insectivorous, that is, they feed on insects.

Despite being such a key component to the ecosystem, bat habitat is declining rapidly. With a vanishing habitat, so too will the population of these machines of nature. Bats in the wild normally live fifteen to twenty years but reproduce slowly and they need cool dark sheltered places to live, breed, and hibernate.

You can help by installing a bat habitat on your farm, ranch or open land. Learn more about bats and bat habitats by clicking on the resource link below.



LINKS
Bat Conservation International www.batcon.org


Originally published June 2010

Euthenasia

End of life decisions are an emotional rollercoaster for those wrestling to make the right decision at a tumultuous time, conflicted by waves of hope and the compassion for dignity and empathy of one’s life. The guilt and stress that accompanies such an impossible decision is something more of us will be faced with as the population ages.

Generally speaking, there is some reluctance on the part of prosecutors in North America to pursue criminal charges against those involved in assisted suicide especially when a medical doctor is involved and it remains a private matter. When it is flaunted in public, however, there is little option but for the authorities to vigorously prefer charges. Think Dr. Jack Kevorkian, and even he was victorious and enjoyed fantastic public support. It is possibly the worst kept medical secret that doctors involved in end of life care have taken steps to ease suffering of their patients by withhold treatments, and thus hastening the evermore.

Germany’s Supreme Court has just paved the way for legal euthanasia provided certain criteria are met. Switzerland outright permits euthanasia and has unwittingly crafted its very own suicide tourism industry, whereby patients travel to Swiss clinics and hospitals to privately end their life with dignity under medical supervision. However, some countries in Europe (Italy and Spain among them) consider assisted suicide illegal, likely because of the influence the Vatican plays in their everyday life.

As the discussion surrounding assisted suicide lessens its taboo status, it opens a window of opportunity for us to create a dialogue where we can let those closest to us know of our final wishes. There are three vital actions you can take that will ease the burden on those you leave behind, and the earlier you accomplish these tasks, the more likely it will be that they will be honored.

First and foremost, get your affairs in order. Write a Last Will & Testament and a Living Will. The Living Will sets out your wishes should you find yourself in a position unable to make legal decisions. Not all jurisdictions recognize the validity of a Living Will, however, having one, at the very least, will be documentation of your actual wishes, thus avoiding the arguments that ensue in the event of your incapacity. Consult an attorney, especially if you have a complex estate and when minor children are involved.

Next, sign your donor cards. Human organs are desperately needed for research and for transplant. Your passing could provide life to someone who is suffering and facing death themselves. It really is the ultimate gift you can bestow.

And thirdly, discuss your wishes with your family and friends. Nothing is more tragic than those you love wrapped up in a bitter dispute over their interpretation of what you said twenty years ago, or if you would have wanted your suffering to end or of you would rather fight an uphill battle.

Watching a loved one erode and suffer before your very eyes is a gut wrenching experience. Putting your family and friends in the position of having to make life ending decisions is clearly not what you intended to happen, so do the right thing now so they can do the right thing later.

Originally published June 2010.

Water Torture Karma

I remember as a kid learning techniques of torture once we captured a prisoner in our playground version of war. It was an innocent distraction and we were so far removed from the many wars simmering worldwide that our ignorance could only be described as arrogantly cute.

Pinned to the ground face up, drops of water were deliberately aimed at a spot on the forehead of the captured combatant. It certainly seemed harmless enough.

At first, the one hundred or so droplets were amusing that they could never be considered as torture. The captured combatant would even jostle his head and spear out his tongue in an attempt to capture the falling drop, partly as an act of defiance, and partly as a demonstration of the frivolity in the choice of torture.

At some point, those water drops became irritating and uncomfortable. No longer jostling for position would the prisoner be, but now eyes squinting and face contorting in dread of the next coming droplet. For the lucky few, perhaps even a head turn to deflect the impending splat.

Eventually, real and imagined pain would ensue as the light dew drops would seem heavy as steel as they continued dripping over the small targeted area of the forehead. The pleas from the prisoner would become desperate, urgent, and angry, leading to full submission and tears.

And that's how we declared victory in our little pretend war zone.

Later in life, I would come to learn the power of sustained water flow, at how it could carve its own path through solid rock. I also learned about actual wartime horrors and to this day, still try to reconcile in my mind our very naive approach to war as children blessed with not having to be involved in such grim circumstances as many on the planet were.

Each night, I am reminded of our water torture games as I listen to the incessant dripping of the shower head in my bathroom.

At first, it was just a drip. But eventually, it graduated to such an irritable nuisance that I would place a towel in the basin at the point at which the water drops would splat in order to muffle the sound.

That would work until the towel became saturated. Then the sound would change to an audible splosh, an equally irritable rhythm of dreaded pain, designed by some supreme being designed to be more amplified for what I am convinced is payback for my complicity in the playground antics of my youth.

It's 3:00 am. Namaste. I submit.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

The Yin and Yang of Whyte Avenue Shopping

I wonder, as I sit in an ultra modern corporate coffee house sipping the latest flavored java offering, had I been alive at a different time, would I have appreciated the grandeur and classic architectural stylings of what are now century old buildings?

There is a simplicity and functional pragmatism to early 20th century commercial buildings. What I now see as nostalgia was once as cutting edge as one could get, and yet the overall look and feel to these buildings is homogenous no matter where you look. Examples abound. However, my favorite haunts proudly displaying examples include Great Falls, Montana, Fort McLeod, Alberta, and Whyte Avenue in Edmonton, Alberta.

Long before cookie-cutter shopping malls invaded the landscape, main streets in communities were hubs of commerce, living, and entertainment. The general merchantile store, pharmacist, dress maker, and candy store would occupy the storefronts of several buildings, their proprietors living in the apartment above.

Ah yes, times back then were simpler in many ways.

Gazing up the street assaults my eyes here on Whyte Avenue as buildings that stood the test of time are now branded by back lit pylon beacons shamefully marketing multinational corporations rather than paying homage to the pioneer entrepreneurial spirit on the backbone of which this city was founded and subsequently flourished.

They call this the inevitable steps forward of progress.

The mix of tenant shops has also narrowed considerably on Whyte Avenue. Even twenty years ago, the ma and pa style stores prevailed, giving the architecture a prominent friend, preserving a historical feel as well as a true representation of an earlier lifestyle. Now, just about all those shops have vanished, replaced by franchises and household corporate names, including the coffeehouse I chose to patronize. If I can just stare at the top half of the buildings, I can convince myself I am transported to another era. But alas, my line of sight must include many of the storefronts and logos found in any mall.

Still, there is a nifty assortment of interesting shops that probably would find it difficult to survive elsewhere. The hustle and bustle of this trendy swath of Edmonton is both puzzling and enriching at the same time.

Hip university students pace the sidewalks at the all knowing pace of familiarity in step with fashionistas window shopping for that one of a kind accessory or trend setting dress sure to be discovered, while sidestepping those new couples ambling hand in hand on a first date.

With Edmonton being home to what was once lauded as the world's largest mall, the city is a Mecca for tourists and rural Albertans alike looking for a day or two of die-hard shopping. There are plenty of malls and outlet-styled shopping centres to strain any credit card, particularly in the south and west sections, none of which can hold a candle to the unique atmosphere of Old Strathcona and Whyte Avenue.

As the city hitches its horse to downtown development, there may be some opportunity to duplicate the energy emitted from Whyte Avenue, not as an either / or destination, but more as a complimentary experience that could be used as its own marketing ploy for Edmonton.

Already, 124th Street from Jasper Avenue northward is home to funky stores, fantastic eateries, and fabulous galleries. Less well-known than its neighbors south of the river, 124th Street struggles to connect to buyers. Rarely does one ever hear of an event occurring on 124th and this lack of excitement about their own area is bound to have consequences as rival economic development nodes get their act together to compete. Even Alberta Avenue, having so much less to work with, does a much better job of keeping itself top of mind for consumers.

As the eastern part of downtown is redeveloped with the new museum and a swanky hotel, a new wave of entrepreneurs will identify the perfect fit for their wares. The difference here of course, is that the architecture will be modern, owing to the lack of character buildings remaining in this niche area that has been seen in recent memory as a tick on a dog.

As I finish sipping my java, again peering as far as I can along Whyte Avenue, the endless procession of people passing this window and others, convinces me that this fairly unique chisled area of what is now in Edmonton will continue to lure those to see and be seen, to inhale history and breathe out the future, and to discover the ever changing present.