Volunteering with Yellow Submarine: what it's meant to me

I'd talked about volunteering for years. I even gave up a few days here 'n' there. But that was part of the problem: my framing, however subtle or unconscious, was about losing.

And then everything changed.

I wanted to stay abroad, to stay in the UK, and volunteering -- being sponsored to volunteer -- was my best option. Filtering the list of licensed sponsors based on a reasonable commute left me with a few dozen options, from which Yellow Submarine quickly stood out. It just sounded fun. I wanted to know more.

I didn't know what to expect -- I had no experience with social care, or people with learning disabilities. From the first moment I contacted them, the staff and other volunteers have been so warm and welcoming.

It's hard to exaggerate the effect this experience has had on me. I really do look at the world differently now. These people I've met... the relationships they have with each other are so kind; so tender. Not all, of course, but most (by far), are courteous at the very least. And that's true of all the dealings I've had with the holidayers, without exception.

It's hard to credit -- or it was for me; and it isn't like I'm a cynical person by any stretch -- but I guess the simplest way to put it is that all the folks I've met -- and that's three groups now, not to mention the others I've met on days out -- approach others with a respect you don't often see these days. And I don't mean awe, or with a sense of inferiority; just with an appreciation of others' time. There's a gratitude in their exchanges that, frankly, I find so uplifting. You're just happy to know them. When the bus dropped me off after the Blackpool holiday, M. said, "Oh, John, I really going to miss you." It's a moment that still leaves me with a lump in my throat, in the best possible sense.

And then there's the pride that comes with volunteering for an organization like Yellow Submarine. The staff and volunteers I've met bring so much to the job. In my career, I've been lucky enough to work with some incredibly talented people, but there's something special about seeing those sorts of people apply their talents and energies in a pursuit that so obviously helps individuals and their families, day in, day out. It's truly inspiring, in a way that I can't say I ever really understood before now.

Incidentally, Yellow Submarine has just published a report based on a recent survey of affected parents, in the light of Oxfordshire County Council's warning that significant cuts to children's disability services are planned for late 2014/2015. To read some of the feedback in the appendices is to understand how much the holidays I help out on (as an example) mean to these people and their families.

I think I'll end this post with a few holiday highlights (thus far, and in no particular order):

• Seeing M. and M.'s faces as we walked out beside the pitch at Anfield, during our tour. This was quickly followed by excited, simultaneous jumping up and down and hugging, repeating "I can't believe we're here!" over and over. To play even the smallest role in bringing that sort of unbridled joy into someone's life is such a pleasure and privilege. A grin splits my face every time I think about it -- or write about it, apparently. :-)
• Hearing J. say that he didn't want to go home (at the end of the Dorset holiday), after having had a bit of a rough start, with many calls home. That excitement and those smiles were so rewarding.
• At Sea Life in Weymouth, having a lady stop me and, smiling widely, ask, "Is he always like that?" as G. shouted boisterous and heartfelt wishes from the sidelines to fellow Yellow Submarine holidayers and staff boarding a ride. He's amazing; so happy and selfless -- and I was grinning ear-to-ear as I relayed as much to her.

I can hardly wait for the next holiday!

I don't get it, and other dangerous ideas

I spent most of Christmas offline, and so missed the controversy surrounding Justine Sacco in late December. For anyone who isn't aware -- there must be a few dozen or so ;-) -- she was a public relations executive at the media company, IAC, prior to being sacked over a tweet that many -- including, importantly, IAC -- deemed "offensive" and "hateful". She has since apologized (through the South African newspaper, The Star, having deleted many of her accounts, including the infamous Twitter one):

... For being insensitive to this [HIV/AIDS] crisis — which does not discriminate by race, gender or sexual orientation, but which terrifies us all uniformly — and to the millions of people living with the virus, I am ashamed...

I find many aspects of this story, and the fallout, of interest:

• The Data effect or humour is tricky, and how the Internet exacerbates this, sending it well beyond our tribes and context;
• The intersection of the high of the Internet troll/vandal, mobbing and being seen to act; and, finally,
• Maintaining a pervious worldview: has the Internet changed anything?

I really liked the Guardian's column on the incident: Srinivas does a great job of tackling the difficulty with sarcasm, and with a worldview largely composed of stereotypes and sound-bites. Another great piece that stood out was on the Ethics Alarms blog (author's emphasis):

... [W]e each are responsible for [the cultural enforcement of ethical values;] thinking hard about right and wrong and joining in the shared societal duty of enforcing those standards that will ensure the best, happiest and most productive lives for as many people as possible. That process, however... requires the responsible application of the ethical virtue of proportion. We do not make society better by turning it into a fearful place where a single misstep brings abuse and shame down upon our heads from the entire community...

I do hope that we get to a point where we can forgive people their foibles, be they based in the immaturity of youth, a dark sense of humour or a momentary slip in the filter over an inner Allie Brosh.

Tasting notes - Cotswold Lion Brewery's Winter Woolly

I'd wanted to try this at the Strand the other night, but it was just going off. (As I understand it, it's their policy to order small, changing their six handpumps often.) Luckily, Favourite Beers -- "good friends" of the Cotswold Lion Brewery's, according to the latter's site -- had it in stock.

The nose was great: very bright, with hints of cinnamon, and possibly something of cloves. The head was fantastic throughout, no doubt due to the inclusion of wheat in the recipe. I felt there was some nutmeg in those first few mouthfuls, with a slight bitterness in the aftertaste. The mouthfeel was fantastic. As the bottle warns, there was quite a bit of sediment in the bottom -- just a bit of extra flavour in my books! All in all, a lovely pint for shaking off the last of a very blustery day!

Tasting notes - Prescott Ales' Winter and New Bristol Brewery's Super Deluxe Stout

I had my first opportunity to try Prescott Ales' seasonal Winter at the Sandford Park Alehouse today. It's a ruby stout, and a beautiful pint: deep red, with excellent head retention. The initial nose was overwhelmingly cocoa powder. That first taste was trickier: definitely a candied fruit of sorts; initially, I settled on strawberry, and, if I'm honest, found it a bit too sweet.

However, about halfway through the pint, the sweetness mellowed, taking on more cherry overtones. There was also some mocha in that long, lingering aftertaste, I think. Tasty stuff!

---

I also spied New Bristol Brewery's Super Deluxe Stout, and couldn't resist a taste. (At 7.0% ABV, I stuck with a half, though.) As the barman pulled it, he muttered, "That's the darkest beer I've ever poured." It truly did look like obsidian in the glass. As I breathed it in, my mind immediately went back to my mum's kitchen and the baker's (baking) chocolate she always had on hand.

That first taste was an explosion; honestly. I couldn't keep track of everything I was tasting: there was certainly a milder chocolate, and a fruitiness again, but, as with the Winter, I couldn't be more specific. What was clear in my mind was a word: delicious!

After a few minutes, I again settled on cherry notes, but tending to the very edge of medicinal in this case. There was marzipan in the aftertaste as well. About halfway through I picked up hints of nutmeg, which made sense, because I'd already been thinking it was perfect for the season. All in all, beautifully balanced, with great mouthfeel.

Tasting notes - Summer Wine Brewery's Rouge Hop

There's a cheeky note on the bottle about taste being subjective, and not wanting to presuppose what the drinker's "sophisticated palate" will pick out. Erm, not sure about that one, but I'll do my best.

The first thing that struck me about the nose was the hops; specifically, what I associate with Motueka hops. (Upon reading SWB's page on the beer, which states that it's dry-hopped with Simcoe and Cascade, I think I see where I went wrong: BrewDog's Punk was really a watershed moment for me -- and many others, of course -- and so those hop flavours have really stuck with me, and as New Zealand sourced, specifically. However, that said, Cascade are a big part of many other distinctive pale ales, including Sierra Nevada Brewing Co.'s, which I can also taste in the Rouge Hop, with hindsight. But I'm getting ahead of myself.) The other element I picked up in the nose was a bit of a nice red apple; say, a Royal Gala or Jazz.

There was some excellent bitterness in the flavour initially, but it falls off a bit too quickly, for me. There's also something very faintly metallic in the aftertaste; I don't know how to describe it, except to say that it reminds me of tap water I've had... well, somewhere away from home. (I'm not saying that's a bad thing, by the way; probably just further evidence to support that study I read fairly recently about how the water we grow up on, and its particular balance of chemicals, minerals, etc., will always seem right to us, regardless of any empirical evidence to the contrary. [Edit: I think I've found it; see below]) I'm sure I'd be treading on dangerous ground to speculate on the Yorkshire water...

That bitterness was nicely pronounced by about the halfway mark, incidentally, completely masking any of the aforementioned aberrations in the aftertaste.

---

On the taste of water:

The subjective nature of water tastes has been revealed regularly during taste testing, says Arthur von Wiesenberger... He reckons that we form subconscious memories of water. At a blind water tasting held by The San Francisco Chronicle in 1980, a highly mineralised, non-carbonated French bottled water was hidden among the tap water. It scored poor marks with all of the judges except one, who was French. For him it was the best-tasting and he commented that the water reminded him of home.

According to Wiesenberger, this demonstrates that our taste buds and brain have a strong recall, even with the subtle taste of water.

The article also discusses, at length, whether there's a north/south divide on the subject.

Tasting notes - Art Brew's Bristol Bock

Sorry: rinsed the bottle before shooting

Brewed for Bristol Beer Week, this was my first, much-anticipated taste of the small Dorset brewery's product.

There wasn't a lot to the nose, but what I did faintly pick up struck me -- oddly, I'll be the first to admit -- of bubblegum (à la Hubba Bubba). About a third of the way in, this had faded completely, replaced by a slight maltiness.

At 7.0% ABV, the lovely, silky mouthfeel was hardly surprising; the same goes for the pleasing warmth that began a few mouthfuls in. The aftertaste was superb, continuing far longer than I'd expected, progressing from predominantly malty to the mellow tang of raisins.

Tasting notes - Weird Beard Brew Co. and Sad Robot Brewing's Saison 42

I love saisons; period. With that distinct aroma and flavour that's clearly Belgian, but also (dangerously) refreshing, they typically embody everything about beer that excites and interests me. Add to that yet another reason to drop a palms-out "Don't Panic!" in conversation, and my heart's pit-a-pat before I've even found the bottle opener.

My initial impression of the nose was a bit rushed, as the bottle went volcanic upon opening. I quickly recovered, however, and once the head was manageable, dove in. I'm still green on the subtleties the various malts and yeasts contribute to the finished product -- on the latter, note that I'll be tasting BrewDog's Unleash the Yeast shortly -- but all the fruitiness I expected was there; particularly lime.

I've always been a fan of the Belgian mantra "For vitamins!" as they swirl and drink the dregs of any unfiltered or bottle-conditioned beer, and so ignored the bottle's instructions for separating the beer from its sediment. (Justin Hawke, of the Moor Beer Company, wrote an excellent treatise on the beauty of all drinks cloudy recently.) The result was, to my eye, indeed "orange-coloured," (the bottle, again) and chock-full of goodness. Bobec hops were used, and I noted a nice bitterness coming through as I got a third of the way in. Finally, that carbonation that initially gave me some gyp settled to a pleasing sharpness on the tongue throughout.

For more information on this great saison, check out Weird Beard Brew Co.'s blog.

Tasting notes - BrewDog's IPA Is Dead

This is cross-posted from another blog I used to write, in anticipation of a similar post about their Unleash the Yeast. Can't wait!

Having recently read about the Cicerone Certification Program State-side, and with the BrewDog four-pack IPA is Dead sitting in the fridge, I figured a lazy Sunday might be a good time to see what the ol' palate's capable of. Keep in mind that, until today, I'd have been hard-pressed to name more than a few varieties of hops -- the famous Saaz, and maybe one or two from Arbor Ales' awesome Single Hop Series. And, believe me, I'd enjoyed many a hop-tastic beer in relative ignorance. Still, for what it's worth, my fledgling notes on BrewDog's excellent pack -- in the order I drank them -- follow. I'll reflect on what I've read since afterwards.

• Motueka: full-on; what I love about Punk.
• HBC: of grass/greens initially; more bitter/acidic later. Less power than Motueka.
• Galaxy: more like Motueka, but again, less power; and brighter, with a citrus tang in the finish.
• Challenger: English, like a bitter, in the nose especially; tons stronger, though, with heavy citrus in the finish.

To be honest, I had some serious, cheeks-puffed-out, arms-raised moments of relief as I read the following on Wikipedia, BrewDog's site, etc.:

• Motueka: Punk is indeed made with New Zealand hops. I couldn't pick out the lemon or lime that BrewDog reference, though.
  
• HBC: I can see what BrewDog are on about with the sweet potato, but only in retrospect.
• Galaxy: really happy with this one as well, 'cause "citrus tang" should've read "grapefruit" -- hindsight again, yes, but you have to understand: my palate is notoriously muddled; getting that much is an accomplishment in my books.
• Challenger: another big win for me: not only pegging the locale, but also the lemon.

On the strength of this result, I think I'll move on to the aforementioned Single Hop Series from Arbor Ales; I know I like their Nelson Sauvin, but Favourite Beers has many shelves of others I've never tried.

Movie Review - The Counselor

As the credits rolled, and I was wondering why the cheetah handlers were listed so far down -- just above the caterers, in fact -- the attendant, pausing in his clean-up, asked me whether I'd enjoyed the movie. We were the only ones in the theatre by then, and as the few folks who'd taken in the matinee hadn't left him any significant work that I could see, I felt I had a few moments to reply.

"I think so," I said, after serious reflection, eventually nodding my head, as if some inner conflict was just then resolved.

I went on to say that I suspected I'd enjoy the book more; that the dialogue -- more soliloquies at times, really -- certainly grabbed me, and while I felt that some of the actors were able to carry it, many failed to capture the gravitas. I'd put Rubén Blades, Bruno Ganz and Javier Bardem (in that order) in the former category, and, in the latter, certainly Pitt and Diaz. Diaz in particular had a very tough role to play, and while I don't think she did a terrible job, many of her scenes were too light, too airy. Scott surely has a role to play in that as well; her world was undoubtedly purposely clean and sharp for contrast, but I just felt that maybe in the camera angles, or possibly the soundtrack, some of her awful emptiness needed to be conveyed.

Now, if I hadn't glanced at Rotten Tomatoes before heading out, I doubt I would've pulled that out; I would've been overwhelmed with, as some of their top reviewers state, the script's lack of cohesion, and, thanks to an enormous cast, its inability to get any real investment from us. Ultimately, it struck me as a collection of McCarthy's favourite passages -- and don't get me wrong; I think many of them are doozies! -- which is hardly a recipe for a great film.

I notice that the Coen brothers adapted No Country For Old Men, and that McCarthy's only other screenplay is almost as old as me. I think that's significant. Still, I was serious when I said I think I'd enjoy the book; some of that dialogue was fantastic. Maybe I'll start with his Pulitzer-Prize-winning The Road.

Canada and the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TTP) Agreement

Some shouting on Tumblr caught my eye this morning. It was the first I'd read about the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TTP) -- I know, I'm living under a rock (on the other side of the pond, in a land that hasn't signed up to it, to be fair). Free trade agreements are great polarizers -- I sought out rocks to live under as a kid, yet well remember the Chicken Littles of NAFTA -- and this one is no exception: unsurprisingly, there are Intellectual Property issues; we've been dealing with U.S. pressure in this arena for most of my adult life, it seems. Apparently, there are also farming concerns. (In Japan, farmers have been protesting for years against their country's inclusion in the TTP, which was just ratified this summer.)

(The cartoon is by Greg Perry, and courtesy of The Tyee.)

One of the many things I missed regarding the TTP was the public consultations. Geist says IP/copyright was the hot topic. As others have stated, the biggest concern for me is all the secrecy that surrounds the agreement. Yes, as CBC reporter, Curt Petrovich, raises, the negotiations themselves require it, but surely any fruitful consultation would've required information on our conditions for entry, the associated cost-benefit analyses, etc. Otherwise, statements like this sound more like platitudes:

Gerald Keddy, the parliamentary secretary to the trade minister, insisted that Canada's marketing boards will be protected.

"Let's be clear, we've signed free trade agreements with nine countries around the world and we've been able to look after supply side management in every single one of those," he said.

Particularly in the light of this sort of reporting:

For two years, Canada has been lobbying heavily to get into the talks. The Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade balked at the onerous demands coming from Washington, but in the final days the file was taken over by the PM's chief of staff who was dispatched to Washington to secure Canada's entry, apparently at any cost.

Sight unseen, the government of Canada has agreed to accept any negotiating text on which the nine current members have already reached consensus. According to the USTR, this includes all agreed ("unbracketed") text within chapters that are still open, not just completed chapters. To date, only one chapter has been completed.

Still, I'm coming to the party late, and I'd be lying if I said that securing trade with the Asian market at any cost sounds completely wrong-headed.

The Best Canadian Comics or Humans just keep on creating

In typical fashion, I've spent the morning crawling in and out of the rabbit holes of my mind. (I'm not well today, by the way, so this may get weird.) It started with The Best American Comics 2010, which arrived in the mail last week; the inside cover art, specifically, which is called the endpaper, apparently. I never knew that. Don't know whether I like the name, to be honest, since it's also inside the front cover. Anyway, I found Theo's blog, then was looking up a few of the other artists, like James Kochalka -- yes, I'm sure I've read his stuff before, but the ones that Gaiman picked out for BAC 2010 had me falling in love all over again -- when I thought, why isn't there a Best Canadian Comics? (I'd just read Rebecca Kraatz's Snaps and thought it deserved to be in such a 2011 anthology, at the very least.)

Well, it didn't take me long to find the Doug Wright Awards -- again, holy embarrassing that that took so long, but at least I know all about winners like Seth and Michel; oh, and Rebecca won their Best Emerging Talent award in 2007! Nothing else that big really jumped out at me, so I decided to write them then and there. We'll see what they say, but it wasn't long after that that I realized that BAC actually accepts North American submissions, and that publications like The Devil's Artisan and publishers like Drawn & Quarterly and Conundrum Press already do a pretty good job of promoting Canadian talent. (Check out the former's whopper of a Year In Review post, for example; not limited to Canadian pubs, granted, but still awesome.) Still, an anthology couldn't hurt, right?

Then, as always happens when I dive in the pool that is my stack of to-read comics, I get completely overwhelmed with all the cool stuff I've been missing while reading sci-fi, travelogues, etc.; particularly when I find their blogs and follow a dozen recommendations down the interwebs. And that's when I realize that that old monkey I'm still afraid of, but need, to spur me on, Mr. Well Read, is growing. And he isn't sticking with the soapbox favourites like:

• You say you love Golding, but you still haven't read The Spire;
• There's more to Shakespeare than you studied in school, you know; and,
• Really? You still haven't picked up that lovely edition of Moby Dick?

No, every year now, there are a few more must-reads; soon to be 'Classics', whatever that means these days, in their own right.

This isn't a lament, by the way. Like I said, I need the monkey to egg me on, the slow, easily distracted reader that I am. No, if anything, it's a blessed time to be alive. Doubly so if you love comics.

Quebecorsaurus and the CBC

A provocative tweet pointed me to the latest media battle back home, between the CBC and those who all seem to fall under the umbrella that is Quebecor Media Inc. (QMI): the former's record re ATIP requests, bleeding out to the familiar ground of their funding and how they use it.

I've always had mixed feelings about the CBC: on one hand, I really enjoy some of their programming -- I'm thinking of their radio programs in particular now, including Quirks and Quarks and lots of Radio 3 stuff -- but, as a corporation beholden us (read Canadians writ large) -- they're operating loss before government funding, etc. in 2010 exceeded $1.2 billion (before taxes), according to their latest financial statements -- they've never struck me as humble enough, silly as that sounds (to me, anyway).

So, to be frank, that Ezra rant about the newspaper ad struck a chord with me. As did this, from Peter Worthington (also published in the Toronto Sun):

Peladeau complains that CBC's budget for celebrating its 75th anniversary should be public knowledge. Of course it should... Why is the CBC allowed to keep secret the number of vehicles in its fleet? Or how much it spends on entertainment? Or what it pays Peter Mansbridge?

As Worthington points out, there is an argument for keeping some information close -- what the CBC cited as "documents for... journalistic, creative and programming activity" in response to a motion from the Commons Access To Information Committee last month -- but surely that doesn't extend to simple facts and figures. Now, Worthington writes for "QMI Agency," according to his byline, but I think on this -- amongst his many sports analogies and QMI love -- he has a point.

Because I can't resist it, I'll include one example of the fencing that's going on between these two: on one side we have QMI's claims about the CBC's inefficiencies re ATIP requests; on the other:

[Information Commissioner] Legault said that between 2008-9, 90 per cent of all access requests launched with the CBC were made by six individuals representing business interests. Although their identities have not been revealed, the courts have heard that one law clerk working on behalf of Quebecor's Sun Media newspaper chain submitted nearly 400 requests in late 2007.

I'll be the first to admit that I need to do more research on this, but there's something to be said for clear and concise disclosure; what the kids today would call transparency, I guess. For example, after listening to Ezra rant, I wondered whether it would really be that hard to find out what the CBC spends on marketing. Turns out that it's pretty hard, as far as I can tell: they lump it under Television, radio and new media services costs (emphasis mine):

Television, radio and new media services costs include all costs related to the production of programs, including direct out-of-pocket expenditures, departmental and administration expenses and the cost of activities related to technical labour and facilities. A portion of the costs of operational support provided by services such as human resources, finance and administration, building management and other shared services are also included in the related costs. Television, radio and new media services costs also include programming-related activities such as marketing and sales, merchandising and communications.

From the BBC's annual report for the subject year

It's almost like they're trying to hide it in one of their biggest pots. Now, compare that with how the BBC approach this same sort of accountability (right). It's a concise table in the annual report, with marketing costs clearly broken out; note how the content costs dwarf them, as you'd expect. They've even broken out the digital switchover stuff separately, something I wouldn't have thought to go looking for, but certainly find interesting. (They market that little robot like nobody's business.)

Again, in all this, it's that hint of humility that I'm looking for. I can't put my finger on why exactly, but the BBC definitely has it, where the CBC doesn't.

The Commander resigns

I don't particularly like the phrase "living in the moment," but I do think that sentiment approximates how I live much of my life. I'm not as nostalgic as I used to be, but do love marveling at how folks lived in the past. I'm also a poor planner, but do count myself lucky to be alive now: the pace of innovation is breathtaking, and yet I well remember a time before the Internet.

When I think of the early days of the Internet, two sites come to mind: The Tool Page and Slashdot. My peers would hardly call these days early -- adolescence at least, surely -- but, to use the term favoured by Rob "CmdrTaco" Malda, my nerd hat was always a bit ill-fitting. Which was one of the reasons I loved Slashdot from the start: yes, I could bone up on hardware and marvel at the rise of Linux, but, more importantly, there was no better place for news about your science fiction favourites, or those toys that glisten like gems in your childhood. (See, told you I used to be nostalgic.)

My best Slashdot moment, you ask? Early in 1997; May, I believe -- yes, I'm too lazy to search for the post -- when they broke that later that year, or the next year, two of my most favourite things in the whole wide world, would wed. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Star Wars Lego!" "Oh, aren't they lovely?" *sniff, sniff*

I - was - over - the - moon.

Then, three or four years after that, I could've made a good start on a bridge to the moon with all the Lego I'd added to my previously substantial collection.

I have no idea how big that story was at the time. None. Because I couldn't imagine any other site caring about that sort of news more than Slashdot, and once I had it, well, then there was only the waiting for that next story, likely mostly gossip, with that one glorious nugget of fact.

Like every good site and Usenet group at the time, we were a community. (Cue the codger voice deriding social networking.) And, like every good community, we had our own lingo. The introduction of registration was a big moment. I was working with two good friends, fellow Slashdot fans, at the time. We'd all been pulled away on various tasks that morning, and I think it was Zedd who discovered it, around noon or early in the afternoon. Moments of frantic, feverish typing ensued. Then, most importantly, ID numbers were compared. Mine was the highest, I believe -- much to my chagrin -- but we were all in the tens of thousands.

And so a class system was born. This was well before moderation, and yet, there was moderation: if a three-digit ID commented on a story, fingers went to chins in pondering. They must be wise: look at that ID!

Now, of course, a five-digit ID is pretty darn cool, but that took time. And with time, my visits to Slashdot waned (likely to my detriment, I hasten to add). There are many reasons for that, none of which have anything to do what remains an excellent site. So it was with considerable surprise that I read Jeff Atwood's tweet this morning about CmdrTaco's resignation. I, too, echo his words: certainly the end of an era.

So here's to you, Rob! Thanks for all the great times -- lots of great memories, despite my having largely abandoned nostalgia -- and best of luck in your future endeavours!

Elections Canada on Internet voting

Chief Electoral Officer Marc Mayrand recently published his report on the 41st General Election, held earlier this year. It includes one reference to Internet voting:

Elections Canada has been examining Internet voting as a complementary and convenient way to cast a ballot. The Chief Electoral Officer is committed to seeking approval for a test of Internet voting in a by-election held after 2013.

The CBC headlined their article on the report with it: Elections Canada lobbies for test of online voting. Clearly the topic has gone mainstream. Overall, I see reasons for optimism: first, note that the press is making the distinction between electronic voting and online voting; an old lament of mine. Second, they've highlighted the proper implementation of the secret ballot as one of the concerns about voting online. And, finally, Elections Canada isn't racing ahead on this -- note that the statement I quoted doesn't include a deadline. They are also eliciting informed opinions, and remaining far more technology agnostic than most folks would expect them to be, I would imagine:

Strategic initiatives
Our key strategies to support [the Accessibility] objective in the next five years are to:
... with the prior approval of Parliament, test a secure voting process during a by-election that allows electors to vote by telephone or Internet

Strategic Plan 2008-2013 (the emphasis is mine)

It isn't perfect, of course: that workshop made but one reference to the risk of coerced voting, as far as I could tell. Also, the public discourse -- well, such as it is in comments on press articles, and the questions raised at that workshop -- hasn't adequately quashed that old argument celebrating online banking (and tax filing, I've seen recently) as proof that the nut of Internet security has been cracked. As I've stated previously, that argument is based on a false premise. Still, I'm hopeful that these trials to come will be well run, their results thoroughly examined, before any Internet facilitated process débuts in an election on our national stage.

So close...

Struggling for some positives after last night. Think I've got a few:

• Recchi is one of the last, if not the last, players from my "big fan" hockey days. I remember watching him cut it up with Jagr and Stevens. They were deadly. (All you Newfs out there heard that one right.) It's great to see him win one last Cup.
• Nothing beats hearing our anthem belted from 18000 throats, except maybe seeing almost ten times that number in the streets of Vancouver, in celebration. They said it in the coverage, and it's true: when's the last time you saw streets like that? Bet they weren't happy, and things were about to turn nasty.
  

These past two years have seen Canada host a couple of amazing sporting events. Nothing brings our vast country together like them, and the more I see of the world, the more I realize that we're in good company: national unity is elusive; particularly in the twenty-first century.

But I'll tell ya what: in 60+ minute chunks over this playoffs, I've felt like my home is just out that front door, Atlantic Ocean be damned. And I loved it.

That voice

As is often the case, what I'm currently reading births the urge to return to this blog -- if you can call these semi-annual posts a log. This time it's Michael Chabon's Maps and Legends, and the short essays My Back Pages and Diving Into The Wreck. The book is simply gem after gem, in my opinion -- this is the first of his books I've read, incidentally -- but these essays in particular have reminded me of an inner turmoil now a decade old, or more.

I've toyed with the idea of writing for a living -- and that's the perfect phrase for it -- for many years, culminating in what was an exquisite inner agony, and yet by 'n' large invisible to even those close to me, some 10 years past. I bought the books, I subscribed to the magazines, I drank the juice. And I didn't quit my job. Thank goodness.

There are a few reasons to be thankful, but Chabon's raised one in particular with those essays: when he's almost hit bottom with the second-novel blues and finds that lifeline, I'm lost. I mean, I'm there when he reiterates the "Write what you know" mantra, but that bit about writing without purpose, luxuriating in the knowledge that he's found that voice to tell whatever story comes is as attainable as Zen master in my world.

That voice, that urge, isn't in me. In fits and spurts is how I write. Working abroad is a prodigious well that I plunge the bucket in regularly, ostensibly for the folks and family back home, but truly because I enjoy writing when the subject is self-evident. That, and I'll never remember all we've done otherwise. I'll bottle this time of our lives and sell it back to that senile sod.

But I'm under no illusions: the project, fun as it is, is finite. Once we're home again, the same problems will rear up. It simply means that my respect for these writers of epic fiction grows with every passing year. I was lucky enough to have been able to dabble in writing non-fiction in my day job; enough to know it isn't for me, be it travel writing, journalism, critiques, etc. And without that voice, well writing fiction for a living would be torture, and a destitute agony at that.

I still have a few projects I'm kicking around. But this is a hobby. Repeat after me.

Law & Order: UK -- first impression

I watched my first episode of Law & Order: UK this evening. The episode was entitled Paradise, from Series 1, and dealt with multiple murders, the victims being from London's Turkish community. I had high hopes for this show. I've enjoyed all the spin-offs from the original franchise; Special Victims Unit and Trial By Jury, in particular. However, I'm already disappointed by what I've seen so far, even considering it's just a single episode.

My biggest complaint centres on the pacing: it's much slower than any of its American counterparts, unnecessarily expounding on information that is clear, and breaking for a number of scored sequences with no dialogue. The latter, while clearly attempting to convey some poignancy, was overused and, frankly, smacked of state propaganda. ("See? We know immigrants are people too!")

Scenes with detective inspectors and crown prosecutors wandering along streets and by the Thames, while perfectly normal in a well-paced story, left my wandering mind with the impression of laissez-faire attitudes. And before someone comments on this, I know they''ll want to highlight the city it's set in, but that doesn't mean it needs to steal the show. The Republic of Doyle is a great example of a show with great pace that captures the best of St. John's and her people.

Next on my list of complaints is the tone and format of the show: a good example of the former would be the first scene with the Director of the Crown Prosecution Service, and I'll simply point to the meagre courtroom time in reference to the latter at this point.

Castle's performance in particular nettled me because that role -- the DAs of the American shows -- is normally occupied by the smartest person on the screen. They're normally two steps ahead of their prosecutors, and usually shed new light on the information presented to that point, while dictating how the trial will go. However, not only did Castle fail utterly in this regard, he openly attacked his prosecutors with an argument that you'd expect of any layperson off the street. He was downright common, and made his bumbling prosecutors seem brilliant in comparison.

Finally, I present some complaints that could be classified as procedural anomalies. I'm not familiar with British law -- that's actually why I was excited about the show: I know more about the American legal system after watching those shows for many years, and hoped to get some idea of where it differs from the British one -- but, in at least a few cases, these anomalies strike me as fundamental; still, as always, please comment if I've missed the mark:

• I don't remember hearing anyone read the Miranda warning, which is used in England, as I understand it.
• Having tracked their best lead to the hospital, the police imply that they'll arrest him, but never do so on screen. They then conduct an interview in his hospital room, during which his barrister hardly utters a word. (A theme that is to continue.) Now while this may be procedure for grievously ill suspects, it just struck me as odd that no evidence for the trial was gathered through interviews at the police station. Which brings me to one of the biggest anomalies I noticed...
• When the accused is brought in, it's the prosecutors that do so, and the interview takes place at their offices. The police have no on-screen involvement. How is it appropriate for a prosecutor to (aggressively) interview the accused prior to trial? And, again, his barrister hardly utters a peep.
• Finally, as hinted at earlier, the trial offered very little in the way of entertainment, while mercilessly attempting to yank away on the heart-strings. The accused's barrister was silent -- silent! -- throughout the sequence, even when, at one point, my mind screamed, "Objection! Calls for speculation!"

I will watch a few more episodes. It's possible that I happened upon the worst of the bunch. While most of the dialogue struck me as wooden, I did enjoy a few of DI Ronnie Brooks' lines, and look forward to seeing more of him.

The chore of creating

Should creating art ever feel like a chore?

I'm of two minds on this, but the fact is that, clearly, sometimes it does. Marc Ellerby has recently announced that the fabulous Ellerbisms will end shortly, for that reason amongst others, and, just a few moments ago, Brian Brown admitted that Bellen! has invoked a similar dread in him for some time now.

On the one hand, I'd like to think that being creative is a non-stop blast; or at least full of highs amongst few lows. If you're doing it right, would be an important caveat, I guess. But, really, that's naive. I've read enough books on writing to know that making a living at it requires a lot of discipline. (King talked about his daily 8 a.m. to noon ritual in On Writing.) Heck, even blogging, as defined (i.e., regular updates), requires it, as I'm well aware. (Aware that I'm failing, in other words.)

To continue that train of thought, once you've gained some modicum of popularity, logic dictates that you should build on it, working through any drudgery you may encounter along the way. On the other hand, if that drudgery persists, maybe it's an indication that it's time to move on. Because I truly feel that you can kill a project by taking it past its prime. The television show analogies spring to mind now, unfortunately, but I do like that expression "jumped the shark". That moment is elusive; most days I don't think Firefly had a chance to blossom, but then I think, it was so good that maybe that shark was just around the corner.

Either way, as my comic book project coalesces in my head, I'm well aware that, while it may not seem like fun every day, it should most days. Oddly enough, I think I may be happier if I resist the urge to share the work as it progresses -- with all the pressure to continue that that evokes -- and just share the finished product. On the other hand, that subtle pressure may be just what I need to complete it in a timely fashion.

In the end, I feel lucky that my lifestyle doesn't depend on any of this.

MPs' expenses: a sober second look

The row over MPs' expenses in the United Kingdom was big news. The story broke in the lead up to the general election, and no political party got off clean. However, before Canadians head down the same path, demanding an audit of Canadian MPs' expenses, I think a sober second look is in order.

First, these expenses are audited, by KPMG. Second, those audits, along with all the OAG audits, are paid for by the taxpayer. The OAG paid KPMG over $250000 last year for "accounting and audit services" in 2009-2010. In that same year, the OAG's fourth quarter expenses for accounting and auditing contracts approached $900000. Even if we say that that was an expensive quarter, you're still looking at more than $3 million a year for audits. That's a lot of money. And while the annual spending of the House of Commons and the Senate is more than $500 million, I think we should ask ourselves when demanding another audit is throwing good money after bad, so to speak.

It isn't like the government hasn't had its share of embarrassments related to its expenses. I think we would be kidding ourselves to imagine that excesses like Radwanski's haven't led to changes. Still, I would like to see the results of those KPMG audits made public. I think the OAG's website is an excellent example of the openness that could defuse this sort of storm in a tea cup.

Update 27/05/10: looks like the audit will happen anyway.

National Express and the volcano

I sent the following complaint to National Express a few weeks ago -- when that whole business with Eyjafjallajökull started.

Hello,

I called your switchboard around 1530 yesterday regarding the coach trip my wife and I were supposed to take later that day (at 1830) to Heathrow. I wanted to know whether there was anything I was supposed to do prior to the bus leaving if I wanted to get a refund, as we'd just found out that our Saturday a.m. flight was cancelled due to the ongoing volanic ash problem.

Your staff member -- I don't remember his name -- told me that I was not eligible for a refund, even though we'd paid extra for a refundable ticket, because it was less than 72 hours prior to the departure of the coach.

I find this to be completely unacceptable, as we had no way of knowing the status of our flight 72 hours prior to the coach leaving, and therefore whether we'd need a refund. And I think you'll agree that this situation in particular is so extraordinary that no customer should be expected to anticipate it.

My wife and I have been frequent National Express customers since moving to England last year, but this incident has seriously shaken our confidence in your company. With the added cost of a hotel, we've decided that it may in fact be cheaper for us to simply hire a car service on the day of our flight, as opposed to using National Express the night before, to avoid this sort of situation in the future.

I believe we are entitled to a full refund, and ask that you acknowledge this complaint in short order.

Sincerely,

John Jarvis

I received a letter from them in the mail yesterday stating that they "cannot accept liability for customers who were unable to travel. Therefore [they] cannot offer a refund." I wasn't asking them to accept liability; I just wanted them to ease up on the 72-hour notice bit this one time, in what can only be characterized as extraordinary circumstances. As my wife said, there really isn't much point in paying extra for a refundable ticket, assuming we decide to travel with them again.