20 Replies to “Reader Tips”

  2. ‘And the government shall be upon his shoulders’ = a line that seems to apply to all of us.

  4. While I fully realize that the “Harper is a lump” story is completely fake, it boggles the mind to read some of the comments surrounding it. Many folks identifying themselves as Canadians appear to support the U.S. President saying such a thing about our PM.
    But even worse, some of them have even suggested that they’d like to trade Obama for Harper. Pop Question: Under what measure of competency or track record would ANY Canadian want Obama over Harper?!? I mean, seriously.
    But then again, Justin Trudeau may be about to win a landslide victory to claim the leadership of the Liberal Party.
    The IQ-challenged inmates really are running the place, aren’t they?! 🙁

  5. Under what measure of competency or track record would ANY Canadian want Obama over Harper?!?
    That assumes that most Canadians make political choices based on competency or track record.
    “The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.” by Winston Churchill.

  6. I’m amazed that the Empty Suit won and beyond amazed that the Shiny Pony is even in the running.

  7. Robert, I think there’s a fair amount of poseur anti-Harperism in Canada, at least outside Quebec. The left’s been vilifying him since he entered politics, but that hasn’t stopped him from moving ahead in every election (so far, at least) that he’s been national leader, including in 2011, when he achieved close to fifty percent of the vote outside Quebec. And, Harper’s political success has been on the increase since Mr. Obama has been in office, by my read.
    In fact, have a look at this by Chantal Hebert:
    http://www.thestar.com/news/canada/politics/article/1304595–hebert-federal-political-landscape-virtually-unchanged-in-2012
    And say what you want about Quebec, at least they’ve voted in past federal elections where their mouths are. But, then we find this recently (also by Ms. Hebert):
    http://www.thestar.com/news/canada/politics/article/1299308–hebert-separatist-pq-victory-has-produced-unexpected-boost-for-federalists
    I like to check in with Ms. Hebert from time to time, because I find she’s generally among the least distorted of her, um, profession, and if that’s as bad as the serious criticism gets, I don’t know…
    Besides which,
    1. Mulcair had, by way of trying to castigate Jason Kenny, that brutal attack on Conrad Black back in May, which did a lot more damage to Mulcair that it did to the Harper government, and
    2. I have many relatives who think Obama is just “wonnnderfullll!”, but who are solid for Harper.
    FWIW.

  8. Headline in today’s NY Times:
    “World to End Today, Women and Minorities Hardest Hit”
    (Okay, I know it’s an old joke, but someone had to make it.)

  9. Even older Wayne and Schuster CBC schtick:
    “World to end at 11:11. 11:41 in Newfoundland.”

  11. George Frederik Handel is my favorite Baroque composer. Handel’s Messiah was written in about 7 days. Truly inspired from Above.
    Many think that this is a Christmas piece. It is not. It was written to celebrate Christ’s sacrifice of His life for our redemption at Easter.

  13. “Low informaqtion voters” as Rush L. is calling them.
    I knew they were abundant in the US but am now worried that the Obama Phoneynomina has spread to Canada.
    I’m afraid BC will be installing the leftist of the left in Victioia
    in 2013.
    With a lot of people covered in Eye Wool th Left Coast will live up to its nick name. SIGH!!!!!!!!!!

  14. Left-liberalism’s egotism/hubris on display.
    “Now it’s “defective.” The sad news was delivered Wednesday,”.
    …-
    “Brian Hutchinson: Port Mann Bridge deemed ‘defective’ due to falling ice, but taxpayers won’t pay to fix $1.2B crossing, B.C. minister says”
    “It was a $1.2-billion wonder, the Port Mann Bridge that crosses the mighty Fraser River. Ten lanes wide and 850 metres long, the cable-stayed structure opened for traffic this fall and is the centrepiece of a $3.3-billion highway improvement project, the B.C. Liberal government’s most expensive legacy project.
    Now it’s “defective.” The sad news was delivered Wednesday, by no less an authority than the province’s transportation minister.
    “We had expectations that this bridge would work,” Mary Polak told reporters who gathered inside a suburban Vancouver office building, within sight of the crossing. Over the course of a wintry storm unleashed Tuesday morning, snow and ice accumulated on some 280 cable stays that support the massive bridge deck.
    Large, frozen chunks fell on the traffic below. By mid-afternoon, at least 60 cars had reportedly been hit by so-called ice-bombs, some of them a metre long.”
    http://fullcomment.nationalpost.com/2012/12/20/port-mann-bridge-defective-vancouver-bc/

  17. This was passed along to me in an email today and felt it should be shared. Sometimes we get caught up in hate and vitrol of polotics this season remember what life is really about and do something nice for those close to you.
    Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
    It was Christmas Eve. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn’t been enough money to buy me the rifle that I’d wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
    After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn’t in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn’t get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn’t figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn’t worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
    Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. “Come on, Matt,” he said. “Bundle up good, it’s cold out tonight.” I was really upset then. Not only wasn’t I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We’d already done all the chores, and I couldn’t think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one’s feet when he’d told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn’t know what.
    Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn’t going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn’t happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. “I think we’ll put on the high sideboards,” he said. “Here, help me.” The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
    After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood – the wood I’d spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. “Pa,” I asked, “what are you doing?”
    “You been by the Widow Jensen’s lately?” he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I’d been by, but so what?
    Yeah,” I said, “Why?”
    “I rode by just today,” Pa said. “Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They’re out of wood, Matt.”
    That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
    “What’s in the little sack?” I asked.
    “Shoes, they’re out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without a little candy.”
    We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen’s pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn’t have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn’t have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn’t have been our concern.
    We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, “Who is it?”
    “Lucas Miles, Ma’am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?”
    Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
    “We brought you a few things, Ma’am,” Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children – sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn’t come out.
    “We brought a load of wood too, Ma’am,” Pa said. He turned to me and said, “Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let’s get that fire up to size and heat this place up.”
    I wasn’t the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn’t speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I’d never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
    I soon had the fire blazing and everyone’s spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn’t crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. “God bless you,” she said. “I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us.”
    In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I’d never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
    Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
    Tears were running down Widow Jensen’s face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn’t want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
    At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, “The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We’ll be by to get you about eleven. It’ll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn’t been little for quite a spell.” I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
    Widow Jensen nodded and said, “Thank you, Brother Miles. I don’t have to say, May the Lord bless you; I know for certain that He will.”
    Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn’t even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, “Matt, I want you to know something.. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn’t have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand.”
    I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen’s face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
    For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensen’s, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.

  18. UNaBomber* Mao Stlong* Lepolt.
    …-
    “Behind closed doors at the UN’s attempted takeover of the Internet”
    “BBC: South Sudan army shoots down UN helicopter”
    http://www.newswatchcanada.ca/
    *Ex-Liberal leader Bob Rae’s uncle, c/o Red China.

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