Yesterday I completed my first volunteer assignment for the Dog Rescue Farm I had mentioned in one of my earlier posts. My "assignment if I chose to accept it" ( listen to the Mission Impossible music in the background) was to drive a cargo van to Fort Erie, cross into the USA and meet some folks in a park in Buffalo to pick up several dogs. Once situated into their crates and loaded onto the van I was to re-enter Canada and proceed to take the dogs to their new home at the Rescue Farm. These animals come from somewhere in Ohio and are basically strays who have been abandoned by their owners for a variety of reasons , none of which justifies their actions, in my opinion. As someone once said," we humans have domesticated dogs to the point where they are dependant on us for their survival and therefore we should take this responsibility very seriously." However I digress. Once I hit the US border I was ready for a series of questions about why I had all the empty crates in my van, where was I going and who was providing these dogs. Then I would be dinged with a charge for each empty crate which, apparently, was a fee to raise money for government coffers, "C'mon Barrack loosen up a bit and give the dogs a break". Anyhow, the customs and immigration officer did not seem to be aware of this rule and proceeded to let me through and even helped me with directions to my rendeavous spot. Ring one up for me! Once there I met up with the folks waiting to pick up dogs and finally the transporters from Ohio who were bringing the animals to the park. The first gentleman I met was my advocate and really helped me get through this, my first dog exchange of which I appreciated very much, believe me. I was impressed by his thoughtful care for animals as his SUV with empty cages was sitting idling with the air conditioning on to keep the vehicle cool for his upcoming guests. It was 34 celcius outside. Each cage had a cushion or padding in it as well as some dog treats . He also brought lots of water and bowls to let all of the dogs (ended up being 22) get a drink during the transfer stage. Once the two SUV's carrying the dogs from Ohio arrived the job was to get them sorted out, match up the paperwork (breed & health info, verification of rabies vaccinations, vet authorizations and general information about the animal) and then reload in our cars. In between the move from one vehicle to another each dog was allowed to have a drink of water and to have a brief walk in the park to stretch it's legs and do any business required. Once this was finished I had to get each one of "my" dogs into their new crate in my van and make sure they were secure. This was hard work and I was soaked with sweat when I was done. I also had two large scrapes on my arms from some of the cages that I had to maneuver around in the back of the van. I now had war wounds to flaunt! As I think about it now the people I met here were very unique for a lot of different reasons some of which would solicit a few laughs I'm sure, but the real neat thing was that none of us were being paid (other than costs) for putting in all of this time and effort for a few dogs and you just don't make fun of that. Next came the re-entry into Canada and I ended up being pulled over for inspection. After about 20 minutes I was on my way albeit with a distinct unpleasant odor in the vehicle. Because of the heat outside I had to keep the air conditioning on and of course the windows closed so eventually I became "one with the smell". So much for the old saying that dogs don't crap in their own surroundings. Eventually I returned to the Farm safely with a new adventure successfully completed and bragging rights to being an active volunteer not just a talker. What I did realize however was that my job was the easiest part, as now the folks at the dog camp had to absorb these dogs into their family, feed and care for them and hopefully find a home for each one. I gain more respect for these people everytime I see them. Next time though I'm going to make sure each dog gets enough time walking during the transfer phase so I don't have to bring a mask and live with 2 hrs of delightful and aromatic odors permeating the vehicle.

Pow pow.... another banger bites the dust in the big city. Two things then happen almost immediately. First we hear about the traffic in illegal guns and how it must be stopped in order to end this violence and second we hear about "what a good boy the victim was". This is usually accompanied by a picture of the victim, his mother or both on the front page. The next several things usually happen but not always. We see a local organizer speaking to a group of people about regaining control of their community and saving their children from a similar fate. Next is a police officer pleading with the public for help in finding the "perp". Then the outrage and sympathy quickly fades away after it is overshadowed by the next gunshot that finds the chest of a inner city youth. So much huffing and puffing and nothing ever changes except the faces of those gunned down in the streets of our city. If anybody was serious about correcting this situation it would have been done by now because common sense and history have always had the answers. Accountability and responsibility are the simple corrective actions. Make people accountable for the severity of their actions which interprets to a jail sentence that is clearly a deterrent not just a slap on the wrist. Any crime commited with a firearm should carry a minimum 20 year sentence and shooting someone should start at 25 years with no chance of parole. Knowing these are the consequences of using a gun the then would be shooter is sending a clear message (I don't care) to society and then becomes solely responsible for his/her actions. Responsiblity means "YOU" are to blame not your mother, not the welfare system, not your abusive Dad, not the wrong crowd etc etc. Therefore suck it up put on the orange suit and slippers and head for your cell without any tears or pleas for leniency. Unfortunately our politicians and judges are of a Liberal slant and therefore see this type of answer too abrupt and simple and doesn't take into account all of the psychological, heredity and environmental factors that are the real cause for these misguided victims of society. They prefer to put these people's rights ahead of the law abiding folks who are always the real victims of these crimes. Sure the prison population would rise at the outset but it will even out after the shooters decide to lay down their arms for another weapon of choice. Nothing is 100% affective but this type of action has proven time and time again that when implemented it can almost eliminate its intended target. Take Thailand for instance, they have some of the toughest drug laws on the books anywhere in the world and you rarely hear of any problems with smuggling etc except once in a blue moon when a foreigner is caught and the Liberal media rushes to their assistance. How about chewing gum in Singapore? I know this isn't as serious as gunplay but it illustrates the type of action required if a society truly wants to put an end to a particular practice in it's community. Hey I have an idea, put me on the bench and then watch the prison vans line up for new tires on a very regular basis.........................

On returning to the hotel after my first day at the Ukrainian factory I slowly made my way up the stairs thinking about how nice it would be to hit the sack. As I opened the door I thought I heard a noise but after walking in and looking around there was nothing to be seen. The bed had been made and the window was left open to allow a cool night breeze to permeate the room. As I plopped down on the edge of the bed a large furry black mass leaped out from under the headboard and with a loud screech flew up to the window sill, turned to stare at me for a moment and then jumped to the tree branch almost touching the window. Needless to say I was stunned and found myself frozen to the bed with my mouth wide open but speechless to say the least. As I stared at the animal in the window for a split second I realized it was a large black cat that had apparently climbed up the tree into my room and spent part of the day relaxing in my quarters. Once my heart started beating again and after I changed my pants I quickly closed the window thinking about what else might have found its way into my private abode while I was away at work. After a thorough search of the room and an hour of watching for any slight movements I was finally able to fall asleep. The next morning I made sure, using sign language and broken English to let the floor lady know to keep my window shut all day. The next few days at the plant were extremely interesting in that we were able to observe their manufacturing process from start to finish without the encumbrance of vodka. The only thing I couldn’t understand was why their cost sheets contained so much labour to produce their annual quantities of cotton. Our Company’s plant in Massachusetts produced 32 million pounds a year with a staff of 38 people running 24 hours a day 7 days a week. This plant produced 40 million pounds a year 24/7 but their employment role indicated 900 people to do it. What I found out was that they actually had only 300 people working at the factory but were receiving payment from the government for 900 people. You see they received funding from the government based on the combination of the number of people on the payroll and the amount of cotton produced. Pretending to have more people working provided them with more money to keep the plant running and also gave them each a few extra rubles. This actually wasn’t such a big deal because there wasn’t anything to spend it on anyway as the only valuable things to be purchased could only be obtained on the black market with US dollars. The way they kept the numbers on the payroll was to never eliminate anybody’s name when they left, which more than likely was because they had died. Even in the Communist bloc there was always a way to cheat the government although if you got caught doing it in the USSR the penalty was a bit more than a fine. All in all it was a tough life and outside of chocolate and vodka there didn’t seem to be a lot of enjoyment to be had outside of family and friends. The consumption of vodka was so prevalent that one afternoon while walking back to the office area from the factory I found a set of false teeth lying on the ground and was informed that one of the men had lost them in a stupor as he was leaving work. It seemed like everybody needed a buzz on to survive the daily hum drum of life behind the curtain. One night I had a long talk with our young interpreter over a few drinks and was surprised to hear the sad saga of his young life. But that’s for another chapter.

The first morning I awoke at the hotel in Cherkassy, stretched then decided to take my shower in the compact bathroom, shave and get ready for work. Everything went well until I was standing at the mirror and caught sight of something on the wall behind me. I looked twice and said ‘Damn”! It was the biggest cockroach I had ever seen and believe me when I say huge as I almost mistook it for a mouse. It slowly climbed down the wall impervious to my presence and made its way to the floor where I had finally come to my senses and proceeded to squash it. Thank goodness I couldn’t find any others so I went about disconnecting all of the electrical plugs as advised and went downstairs to meet my compatriots where we boarded a small bus. The drive to the factory took about ½ hour and the town was just waking up as people were opening store doors, sweeping sidewalks and getting ready for the day to come. When we arrived at the plant we met the Plant Manager and his staff and with the help of the interpreter got set up to tour the facility. It was a massive place with a lot of heavy equipment of which I won’t go into because it wouldn’t make sense to anyone unless they were in the cotton bleaching business. As I had mentioned before it was very different to see women working at all the manual labour jobs throughout the entire factory. I had to look twice at some of them though to be sure of the sex as they were not very petite as one would say. Tearing open and slinging cotton from 1000 lb bales seemed to be no problem for these ladies and I thought, I’d hate to get in a street fight with any of these babes. As we toured around I asked questions about spare parts, repairs and the technical knowhow to keep the plant running if there were any problems with machinery or the building and such. I was told that it was almost impossible to get parts in the Soviet Union and therefore they had to make do for themselves. The engineers were very innovative people and could fix anything given the time and some scrap metal or wire. You could see their handiwork everywhere and it was very impressive to see what they had improvised in the most difficult of situations. Everyone was friendly and helpful although communication was always difficult with only one interpreter. At lunchtime we all gathered in the cafeteria where the Plant Manager had his own table seating at least 20 people made up of our team of 4 and his staff. As the meal was served I noticed that there were no menus and thus no choices to make so I focused on my “water with gas” sipping slowly as the main course was put in front of me. To this day I am not sure what we had but the texture of the meat made me envision some sort of tongue but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. About ten minutes into the meal the Plant Manager, who was at the head of the table, stood up with his glass of vodka and made a toast that was very loud and boisterous. Then everyone lifted their glasses, which had been filled with vodka by the server, and completed the toast by gulping the drink right down. As soon as I finished and put my glass down the server was right there refilling it along with all of the other guest’s glasses as well. After two more toasts by his staff it became clear that everyone at the table would have to make a toast and there were 20 people there. Needless to say the afternoon was shot as I staggered away from the lunch table to find a place to lay down. I found out later that guests were supposed to drink only a sip of the vodka and quickly fill up the glass with water so the server couldn’t add more vodka and I surely remembered this trick for the rest of my stay at the plant. After waking up from my afternoon siesta we completed our tasks in the plant and met the Plant Manager and his staff in his office about 7:30 pm that evening. He proceeded to take out several bottles of cognac and a dozen boxes of chocolate. Apparently this was a nightly ritual after the day’s work was done. These folks didn’t have much entertainment in the town but booze and chocolates were in large supply so that became the favorite pastime. It was sad but understandable given the conditions in the country. Trust me I learned quickly to sip and chew slowly. On the way back to the hotel I could hardly wait to see what was awaiting me when I returned.

The ride to Cherkassy from Kiev was about 4 hours in duration and the countryside was beautiful and not much different than any drive in the farmlands of the USA or Canada. I did notice something unusual however, as we passed railroad junctions and track couplings. At each one was a little hut about the size of a double outhouse with a door, a small porch and a large 45 gallon drum of grease and oil. As we passed one of them an Old Ukrainian woman came out of the hut, put down her knitting needles and wool and went to the drum. Here she took what looked like a large mop and dipped it in the grease. We had passed by then but I was told the old woman would take the mop covered in grease and lubricate the railway couplings, gears and other moving mechanisms for the track. When I expressed dismay about the old woman and the problems she must face with bad weather and loneliness I was told no it was just the opposite. This was looked upon as a plum job in that it wasn’t physically demanding and allowed for other activities such as knitting etc. As we arrived in town I began to see how the socialists could brag about zero unemployment. I saw one person on each side of the street one walking in one direction and the other in the opposite direction. They each held a broom and were sweeping the sidewalks and curbs which as it turns out was their job and the work that allowed the government to pay them 20 rubles a month. In fact throughout the town there were many of these types of jobs which one might say resembles the maintenance staff in some of our own towns. The difference however was that it seemed there was one of these people assigned to every street block. They did not rush and did not appear to be concerned that they would be sweeping the same spot several times during the day. Once again most of these people were women and in fact when I eventually did get to the factory most of the manual labour was done by women as well. The reason was because most of the healthy men were in the armed forces and probably fighting the war in Afghanistan. Once in the middle of town we were taken directly to our hotel which could hardly be compared to a Holiday Inn. It had 4 floors and it had been around for a long, long time as was evidenced by the state of disrepair and the overall need for paint and wallpaper. Our communist party guide took us through registration which meant turning over our passports and visas to the hotel management. I wasn’t too happy about this but had no choice if I wanted to stay. My room was on the 3rd floor with a window that overlooked the backyard and just outside was a large tree with some of its branches almost touching the sill. This was to be a bit of a problem later on during my stay. The room was not very big but it had a TV, a bathroom, a bed, a desk and a phone. I was told to unplug all of the electrical cords when I left the room because the wiring was very shoddy and there was always a risk of fire due to loose connections. Once unpacked I laid down and drifted off to sleep about 10 pm and was awakened by the phone ringing just after midnight. A woman was on the line asking me something in Russian or Ukrainian I’m not sure, all I know is that we couldn’t understand one another so I hung up only to receive 3 more calls like this over the next ½ hour. I found out the next morning that these were the hotel prostitutes trying to raise some business, so to speak. I found out that each floor had a floor overseer that would stop them from calling if you provided them with a few niceties like toilet paper or cigarettes. Yes toilet paper was a luxury item in this part of the world and I had been forewarned so I had several rolls with me of which I gave one to my overseer and voila'I wasn’t bothered for the rest of the trip. Even so I had trouble sleeping because of the partying that seemed to go on all night. It appears that this hotel was a stop for the troops heading home from Afghanistan after their tour of duty and they had plenty of steam to blow off. First night in Cherkassy and already I began to wonder “what the hell am I doing here?”

Arising the next morning after my early morning ride from the airport I proceeded to hook up with my partner from Boston who flew in the night before as well but managed to get picked up and chauffeured to the hotel in the proper manner. He was an engineer from head office who was born in New Jersey and sounded the part to a tee. He was six ft four inches tall and had a litany of one-liners just like Rodney Dangerfield. We had breakfast and then proceeded to a van that was to drive us to the factory in Cherkassy. As I said before, a foreigner wasn’t allowed to travel by themselves inside the Iron Curtain so we had a driver and a Communist Party Member assigned to us for the duration of our trip. We also had an interpreter that I got to know quite well during the time I was in the USSR and I learned many things about life inside the Republic from him during various discussions. Foreigners weren’t allowed to drive in the Soviet Union and I believe it was because of three things. First there were no insurance regulations so, if you got in an accident may the best man win, so to speak. Second there were very few service stations or repair shops (if any) so if your Lada broke down you had to fix it yourself otherwise you were out of luck. Last and probably the most important was fact that road safety was almost non-existent. I actually saw trees growing out of manholes in the middle of the street. I asked my friend (interpreter) why this was so and he explained that manholes were stolen regularly and no one was assigned to check and replace them. This was true of signs as well as road kill etc so anyone driving had to have an idea of what lay ahead of him in order to survive behind the wheel. The next thing that struck me as odd was the number of apartment buildings in the city and their overall condition which was not very good to say the least. These building looked similar to those built in the 50’s & 60’s in Toronto with about 12 to 15 floors and balconies on each. The problem was that every balcony was piled up with furniture, clothes and any other thing you may find in a garage sale. There obviously weren’t any by-laws against this type of eyesore in the city because it was evident on every building. My friend explained that because of the housing shortage the government one day decreed that each apartment was to be split in half and turned into two apartments so they could house people. Therefore balconies became prime storage facilities so that the inside of the apartments could be used as living space. What was even sadder was the fact that most young people had very little hope of having their own place even after marriage. My friend was 29 and his wife and two children still lived with his parents. As we pulled out of the city and onto the highway I was very impressed with the tall trees lined up on each side of the road. They were straight as an arrow and rose majestically 40 to 50 ft in the air. I also noticed that the trunks were white about 8 feet above the ground on each tree. I commented that it was good to see that the government took care of the trees by putting insect protection on them. My friend then explained to me that this wasn’t an environmental thing it was a safety issue as there were few parts for cars available in the Soviet Union so most cars could not replace burnt out headlights and therefore the white paint was put on the trees so it would reflect moonlight and help drivers to see where they were going at night. The last thing that I learned on the ride to Cherkassy was to never stop at a roadside BBQ. There was no such thing as service centers or McDonalds in the Ukraine just roadside grills cooking “who knows what” at the side of the road. Even my interpreter said that eating their food was a risk he would not take. By now I was starting to understand why there was no free press in the USSR because a revolution would have started long ago if these people could see the outside world. They totally relied on the government to look after them for the last 60 years and this is what they got.

The Mole and the Gopher

The mole is not a rodent. It is an insectivore, a small insect eating mammal, which feeds mainly on insects and earthworms. However, the Townsend’s mole may eat roots and tubers. The mole has short velvety fur, a slender snout, small needle like teeth, no cheek pouches, poorly developed eyes, and ears that are not visible. It’s limbs are short and spadelike. The mounds formed by moles are pushed up, volcano fashion, from a central hole. The soil may be in chunks. The single mounds often appear in a line over runways connecting them.
The pocket gopher is a rodent..It feeds on roots, bulbs, grasses, seeds, and sometimes even tree bark, plastic irrigation pipe, and underground cables. Gopher tunnels can divert and carry off irrigation water and lead to soil erosion. Gophers have large incisor teeth projecting outside the mouth, and pocket like, external, fur-lined pouches on either side of the mouth. They have relatively small eyes and ears and a good sense of smell for locating food. Gophers usually burrow four to 12 inches below the soil.
surface and do not leave a ridge. The mounds are often in clusters and the soil is usually fine because the gophers dig and carry it to the surface instead of forcing it straight up.

Johannesburg South Africa
After the Group Areas Act was scrapped in the early 1990s, Johannesburg was affected by urban blight. Thousands of poor, mostly black, people who had been forbidden to live in the city proper, moved into the city from surrounding black townships such as Soweto. Crime levels in formerly white areas rose. Many buildings were abandoned by landlords, especially in the high-density areas such as Hillbrow. Many corporations and institutions, including the JSE Securities Exchange, moved their headquarters away from the city centre, to suburbs such as Sandton. By the late 1990s, Johannesburg was rated as one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

Frisbee (Disc) Golf

The early history of disc golf is closely tied to the somewhat mysterious history of the recreational flying disc (especially as popularized by Wham-O Inc.'s trademarked Frisbees) and may have been invented in the early 1900s, but it is not known for sure. Modern disc golf started in the late 1960s, when it seems to have been invented in many places and by many people independently. Two of the best-known figures in the sport are George Sappenfield and "Steady Ed" Headrick who coined the term "Disc Golf" and who introduced the first formal disc golf target with chains and a basket, the Mach 1. In 1975, Headrick formed the first disc golf association, the PDGA, which now officiates the standard rules of play for the sport. The sport has grown at a rate of 12-15 percent annually for more than the past decade, with nearly 3,000 courses in the US and over 3,000 globally. The game is now played in over 40 countries worldwide, primarily in North America, Central and Western Europe, Japan, New Zealand and Australia.

The Wristwatch

In 1880 Constant Girard (Girard-Perregaux) develops a concept of wristwatches, made for German naval officers and ordered by Kaiser Wilhelm I of Germany. Two-thousand watches were produced, which represents the first important commercialization of wristwatches. Anyhow, for civilian the wristwatches were not popular among men.
At the beginning of the century wristwatches were mostly worn by women. In 1904, Brazilian aviator Alberto Santos Dumont asked his friend Louis Cartier to come up with an alternative that would allow him to keep both hands on the controls while timing his performances during flight. Cartier and his master watchmaker, Edmond Jaeger soon came up with the first prototype for a man's wristwatch called the Santos wristwatch. The Santos first went on sale in 1911, the date of Cartier's first production of wristwatches.
During the First World War soldiers needed access to their watches while their hands were full. They were given wristwatches, called 'trench watches', which were made with pocketwatch movements, so they were large and bulky and had the crown at the 12 o'clock position like pocketwatches. After the war pocketwatches went out of fashion and by 1930 the ratio of wrist- to pocketwatches was 50 to 1. The first successful self-winding system was invented by John Harwood in 1923.

Over the past 4 days we have seen the idiots that everyone had predicted would show up to “Protest??” the G20 summit meeting in Toronto. But these are not the fools of which I speak. No I am talking about the talking heads on TV and the men (or women) on the street who are being interviewed for their perspective of the entire affair. Was this event worth it? Were the police to abrasive? Were the police to soft? Were the police too late in taking action against the violent protesters? Sample some of the answers; - “No it wasn’t worth it we could have given the money to the Indians or the poor and homeless.” Funny they never say “we could have cut taxes or reduced the deficit”. How about the comment about the police being too abrasive because they arrested so many people or because they used tear gas? – “Yeh da cops were big bullies pushing everybody around and arresting innocent bystanders” Of course they were and what would you have done if Molotov cocktails and bricks were being thrown at you? Probably run like a deer. –“ Da police were too soft on these criminals I would have hammered them with my nightstick after I shot them” Funny this is a sentiment held by many albeit silently. “Yeh the coppers waited too long before they clamped down on these hoodlums”. Of course they did, they should have waded right in and locked everybody up and put them in the Rogers Center until the summit was over. Boy would the “Civil rights” dudes have had a field day. I can never figure out why they go through this process of analyzing an event like this with a bunch of people that have no idea of what the purpose of the summit was or what it is like to be on riot duty during one of these violent escapades. Why is their opinion even relevant? One of the stupidest comments is the one that states “they are trained to be spit on and duck when broken bottles are thrown at them”. Well you should have been trained to keep your mouth shut so as not to offend anyone’s sensibilities! And what about the reporters on the street who run around inside the mob and then get offended when they are arrested along with the bad guys? “ I had my press badge on”! Oh I see and a terrorist couldn’t make a fake press badge and carry a mike to slip by the cops?? This isn’t news. I would rather see and hear from the individual cops and learn about the challenges they faced and about the wonderful job they did in such difficult circumstances. About handling rioters who were out to maim them while being under the watchful eye of the media and those who are looking for any opportunity to criticize them. These people are heroes and should be lauded for their efforts. Most of them are family people that have been locked up away from their loved ones for days on end while this event was taking place. No we can’t do that because it would show some sort of favouritism towards the police and that is taboo in the world of political correctness. Instead we get to hear from those “experts” on the street that have such a wealth of knowledge to pass on or the TV news people that have so much experience in the trenches. Sorry I’ll pass and get my update from Peter Worthington a man I can trust.

Recently a friend passed away at the ripe old age of 90 and left his twin brother and wife behind to mourn his loss. He was a WWII vet who saw action in Sicily and Italy as the Canadians drove northwards to free the Italians from Mussolini’s dictatorship. He would tell the odd tale about his time in the service but not a lot as the years went by. I knew this man as the Office Manager for the Company I worked for and during his years on the job I really could not say I knew him very well at all. Once I retired though I began to have lunch with a few of the older retirees, of which he was one, and I got to know him better over the last 5 years. He was a gentleman and had a great sense of humour but most of all he was a regular guy that had given three years of his life to his Country in a time of war. He had fought, as most of the men then, to preserve our freedom and way of life without reservation as he saw it as his duty. He was never individually honoured for his service because he was just an ordinary infantryman who carried his rifle and gear into battle following the orders of his superiors. He fought in every battle as they moved through Italy and finally managed to take Rome from the Germans and Mussolini’s troops. There were many men like this, some who perished on the battlefields of Europe and others that survived carrying with them memories they could never erase from their minds. I often wonder in this day and age if any men would do the same thing if their Country called them to duty in the name of preserving our culture and way of life. We know that there are brave young men fighting today that have enlisted to serve and I consider these men to be the bravest of the brave for they have stepped into the role on their own volition choosing to put their lives on the line for their Country. But what about the rest of us who have enjoyed the fruits of the last generation’s sacrifices? Would we stand up and be counted like my friend did back in the 40’s? I have a hard time picturing the “me” generation willing to sacrifice anything without any tangible payback for themselves. Sadly this is probably closer to reality than the opposite scenario where people like my friend would put himself at risk for his Nation and his principles. History tells us that those who are not willing to fight for freedom seldom enjoy it for long. We are slowly losing these brave men who were the last of the “greatest generation” of our time and I fear we will not see their like again any time soon. I hope I am wrong but only time will tell. Rest in Peace my friend and God Bless.

Today I heard several people making jokes about the Premier of Ontario's latest tax grab (HST) since he has been in power and it reinforced the image of the ever subserviant Canadians who get in line and accept anything and everything the Liberal government does. No hue and cry from the special interest groups or the big unions, particularly the public service types who never fear tax increases because they know that they can still negotiate their wage and benefit increases with little or no resistance from the Liberal administrations of the day. Those that earn a decent wage in this Province have at least 50% taken from them in taxes and at least another 10% gobbled up in user fees (licences etc), obscene levies on (sin) products such as liquor and tobacco and the 40% paid at the pumps for fuel. Yet all we can do is moan and whine or make jokes about the tax and spend group now in charge. Where are the voices of common sense and reason who see the waste and mismanagement of our hard earned dollars? The so-called silent majority who still have values and believe we should be a free Country of individuals not a collection of special interest groups trying to get their slice of the pie without a thought to the rest of the citizenry. When these people kicked Bob Rae and his incompetent minions out of office in the 90's we all thought that Mike Harris would get the Province's finances in order again and he almost did before the Liberal media, the big Public Service Unions and other special interest groups finally bombarded the uninformed masses with lies and spin in order to get them back in line so they would elect the Liberal junket we now see at Queen's Park. Harris passed a law requiring the government tp balance the budget before politicians could vote themselves raises for example but McGuinty rescinded this law almost immediately. Harris tried to get the Health Care System reorganized in order to curb the ever rising cost and the ever diminishing services. The unions, associations (doctors etc) fought tooth and nail against any cuts his government tried to pass. Even though everyone agreed that something had to be done they just didn't want to be the ones who suffered the cuts. He transferred the education responsibility from the local municipalities onto the Provincial Government so he could try and curb the waste in this area and keep the taxes down but again he faced the large and powerful Teachers unions who vilified him daily in the media, and who by the way eagerly joined in the fun. Mike Harris was voted into office because of his "Common Sense" policies but once again common sense be damned if it ventures into my back yard. Maybe he tried to do too much who knows, but eventually the constant drumbeat of negativity made people crave peace so they sold their souls to get it. Since McGuinty has been in office this Province has seen the highest tax increases ever levied on its citizens and yet all we can do is quietly moan and joke about it. Our manufacturing base under the Liberals has eroded so much that Ontario is now a "have not" Province under the rules of Confederation. Once the engine that drove the Country, "can you believe it?" Mike Harris was a brave man who tried to do right by his Province but today he is painted as a troublemaker who made enemies of the bloodsuckers in our society. He tried to revamp welfare by eliminating fraud and introducing accountability to the taxpayers for the money they doled out to every Tom Dick and Harry that requested it. Well people, you got what you wanted "Peace". There are no big battles anymore because the Libs just cave into the big public sector unions and the special interests groups who will stimulate the news media to get their way. It now may cost you several thousands of dollars a year more but hey the teachers and other government employees are happy. The question is "How long before we can find another man of principle like Harris who is willing to withstand the visciousness and partisanship in order to save our Province?" If only I was younger.....................................