Voting: So (A)-pathetic

Why is it so hard to vote?

Even with minority governments, the time in which we can exercise such a fundamental right is so easily wasted and ignored by an uninterested public.

I turned eighteen years old the day before municipal elections were held back in 2006. All I had to do, even without my name on the official voters' roll at the time, was to bring appropriate identification. It was easy, quick, painless and I got to say it was a calming feeling.

Earlier that day, a female friend and I were trolling (which is probably a lousy way to describe it) on Yonge Street in Toronto, entering an adult-themed shop just because I could as a person over the age of majority. It wasn't as painless or calming as voting, but for some voters they would rather enter an adult shop than vote at all.

For the record, I glanced and gave a disgusted look considering my naivete and baby face to boot, dragging my suddenly amused female friend out of the store.

People are definitely not liking the government as we see it in general. I'm certainly not thrilled with partisanship, or corporate donations, or moustaches for that matter. But voting was a right that we as a country fought for in war and with the British.

I'm sure that this history lesson has already bored most apathetic voters I'm trying to convince.

Election laws stipulate that you have the time to vote. You can be excused from work or probably school just to slip that ballot into the ballot box.

But why such low turnouts these days? Sure, we're not satisfied with politics.

But without voting, even with a spoilt or blank ballot, you as a non-voter has given all permission to let the current system continue its apathetic voter-making ways.

So take your damn Voter Information Card, and say what you need to say on that small piece of paper. Why is it so hard to vote?

Let Girls Be Girls

For you parents who have growing teenagers in your family; watch out. A life of bad habits may be developing from here.

It's probably most important to shield your kids to most harms in life; this can be learned from school in the right instruction at least. Some may not have received important talks, but judging by judgment, those not told would know better.

Like refraining from excessive alcohol.

I don't know if a couple of close friends of mine are crazy, but I was sitting in an overpriced hotel room wondering where in heavens they were. They were at least, in my watch, drinking alcohol willfully and left soon after.

What am I to say to myself? I had a drink myself but this is simply not right. I should've stopped them. But I couldn't as they're legally adults. But they say they're responsible.

It's impossible for me to figure this out: should I put my moral foot down like the father figure they prescribed me, or should I just sit and chill as advertised?

Time to figure that out. And you'll have to too.

Security Check

"You need to complete this form," the flight attendant told me and fellow passengers on a plane from Tokyo, Japan. She was distributing and holding arrival cards for the inevitable descent and entrance into the United States.

I had no intention to enter the country. I was just coming back from a week-long vacation that was long needed and I wanted to go home. But I had to complete an arrival card anyways.

That's the cost of flying these days. Many passengers who plan on going to faraway countries are sometimes restricted by requiring a connection through the US. Thanks to airline alliances and the hub and spoke system, the economy of flying in recent times meant the most interesting trips through American security.

I have no beef or any kind of protein towards the theory; if it means I can fly with whomever I want under a reasonable fare, sign me up. But sometimes the checkpoints of airports in the United States can be stunningly tactless.

I recall my first trip to Tokyo, coming home with a delicate present made of glass for a close friend of mine. As I approached the security checpoint at Chicago O'Hare, my bag was gregariously emptied, its contents making a big thump. The oversensitive red-haired officer squealed that I couldn't touch my backpack whilst I was trying to help.

But sometimes, one will find a bit of heart inbetween the metal detectors and security equipment.

This time around, I was guarding against any future damaged souvenirs. I am probably worried enough about what I carry after the security check, to the extreme point of making sure I didn't splurge in the airport shops on anything delicate or breakable.

As the backpack went through the machine, a security officer yelled "bag check". I cringed at the fear of another uncomfortable experience.

The second officer passed on the bag to me, unemptied. "Am I alright?" I asked.

"You're good. You have a nice day, sir."

Maybe this "third country" idea isn't as bad.

Get it Yourself!

So, I was working hard one day at my desk when I had a sudden urge to consume something that was quick, fast, and damaging to my overall health. Remembering the days as a child where fast food was such a delight, I quickly scrambled to find a telephone number of some fixed protein conglomerate that could deliver.

I reached the cordless phone and in about three or four rings later, to my delight, an operator picked up and asked for my street address.

It's not hard to find me: I'm down the road from a pizza establishment.

"Is it (your address) in Bolton," the female voice sensually asked. Bolton? That's several miles away from where I was.

I then gave my postal code to her when she gave me some advice that made my liver ever happier: They can't deliver.

"You can't deliver?!?" I exclaimed. She then explained that I was quite a ways away from any delivery area they serve.

I then hung up, frustratingly in silence. The smell of a "deep fried something" permeated my mind and I was desperate for saturated fat.

Another phone number was pulled from my Yellow Pages directory, this time for a pizzeria. They're known for fat topped and tossed in fat, stuffed with fat in the sensually fatty crust.

The operator from this restaurant sent me to a local franchisee, who then proclaimed that "he didn't deliver" and proceeded to send me to a franchisee who did deliver. From that crosstown location, the third operator sent me back to the main line, where another operator told me that no one delivers to my area!

I then realized that these calls led me absolutely nowhere. Who orders delivery nowadays? In fact, the two chains I called are owned by the same company.

I gave up. I walked to the grocery store next door and fed my gastronomical mandarins with home cooked food. My liver has never been so thankful.

Truscott Vindicated

At the age of fourteen years, a young man was enjoying his life growing up in a town not too far from Windsor, Ontario.

This young man was riding his bicycle, and even gave a helpful lift for a classmate he knew. You could tell that this man was very gentlemanly.

Suddenly, in a blink of an eye he was arrested, charged and brought to death row, reportedly staying there for over a decade. The young man found out that his classmate, the one he gave that helpful lift to, was murdered, and he was the culprit least according to the authorities at the time.

The outrage caused by his potentially lethal sentence was reduced to time in prison, and after he was released the man had lived discreetly, never to be heard until recently.

Stephen Truscott sought to clear his name, and the same court system that sentenced him to the gallows, acquitted him.

As a miscarriage of justice, it was about time he was cleared of something he didn't do. This case shut him out from enjoying the most lively years of his life, and I for one am angry that it has happened in the first place.

At least Mr. Truscott can live the rest of his life confident that he was vindicated. That is good to hear.

Political Seal Fluff

A Californian has got me riled up again.

Ignoring the ridiculously airy fluff you can otherwise find in budget ice cream at your local Loblaws, comes the frothy but lucrative views of American politics.

The constituents that elected the House of Representatives of our southern neighbour passed a resolution that doesn't affect them at all. In fact, a good-sized group of Maritimers would be affected first (if it affects anyone at all).

Tom Lanos, a US representative from the Golden State presented, and successfully passed, a bill condemning the so-called "stunning barbarianism of Canadian hunters".

Might I remind you, I have fumigated most of this premises before with the seal hunt. But this has happened in the wake of Belgian lawmakers giving us a shot in the foot.

Let's face it. Some politics are dirty. And some, corrupt. But this is ridiculous...

Given that seal pelts are sold mainly in China and the less confrontational (compared to Belgium) countries of Scandinavia.

 

The Poor Old Loonie (and its rise to even more confusion).

It's obvious that patriotism will be in quite a high recently, given that our humble Canadian Dollar has soared into the sights of rates we haven't seen since "King of Kensington" was still on television. It's not very shocking at all for some, but others are worried of a possible death knell to an important part of the Canadian economy. But that's life in a capitalist society like ours.

Canada has been known to be cheap. So cheap, a lot of economic life depends on us being cheap. And other than those "No Name" brand generic products you see in the supermarket, it's quite a good thing to have. That means more employment for people all around, from moviemakers who have moved their craft to Spadina Crescent for a good vigorous filming to carmakers who like their parts being a bit cheaper to produce.

But the heydays of a booming Canadian economy leading from the 90s are ending, quite soon perhaps. We have been in quite the limbo when you think about it. Economic resources and unusual politics have given us some more wealth, but the manufacturers and city governments who used to cherish those dollars coming in are worried they would cease to exist in advantage to other places because our loon has flew up near space.

Should we be worried? In my opinion, no. Back when the Canadian Dollar was worth less than the Canadian Tire dollar in morale and spiritual principle, residents were complaining of how much their money isn't worth so much in places like ahem... south of the border.

Maybe that spending from companies outside the country will be headed back to where they originated? We all don't know.

But we remain envious of Alberta's flower gardens; remember, they have no debt anymore!