After nearly a decade of conservative rule, Canada finally got the "hope and change" memo. The dramatic takeover by the Labour Party following the October 19th election was a long time coming; the conservative stronghold in flyover provinces like Manitoba and Alberta was perceived as too out of touch with the rest of the country. No one was more alienated by the status quo than the Maritimes, who already felt marginalized and because of federal budget cuts, even more so. As a result, the minority party rode the wave of dissatisfaction and garnered 184 seats --er, "ridings"-- for a new majority government.
Amidst the hoopla was the birth of the Great White North's first political dynasty. Justin Trudeau, son of progressive demigod Pierre Trudeau and actress/bon vivant Margaret Trudeau, is the face of modern liberal Canadian politics and the youngest prime minister in recent memory. (Only right-wing placeholder Joe Clark was younger.) In his victory speech, Trudeau the Younger said: "We beat fear with hope, we beat cynicism with hard work. We beat negative, divisive politics with a positive vision that brings Canadians together." If that's not from the Obama 2008 playbook, I don't know what is.
So what happens to our northerly neighbor now? Even though Canada is perceived as generally being more liberal than the US, politically they're just as polarized as we are. Outgoing Prime Minister Stephen Harper kept a steady hand for nine years, his greatest achievement being his navigation of the Canadian economy after the worldwide crisis of late 2008/early 2009. Unfortunately, Harper overstayed his welcome --scandals dogged his political party, and he was utterly feckless with commodity markets-- and a new voice was needed. Harper was painted as paranoid and xenophobic (not inaccurate) in the wake of a terrorist attack in Ottawa, but to call him a tyrant was a bit much. Here's hoping the young, optimistic Mr. Trudeau will offer more levelheaded leadership.
(496)
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Watching Them Squabble
Another melange of political opinions:
Even with considerably fewer candidates, the first Democratic primary debate was not without its high points. The winner --by decision, not TKO-- was Sec. Clinton, who looked poised and comfortable throughout. Sen. Bernie Sanders was a good sparring partner, but his limited stance on the issues was his one big fallback; he seemed naive about foreign policy (especially on the Putin question) but positively nailed questions about the economy. Martin O'Malley pulled punches, Lincoln Chafee completely tanked (see the Patriot Act question), and I almost forgot Jim Webb was there. In situations like this less is more, and the 2016 Democratic nomination is now without dispute a two-horse race.
On the other side, the GOP primary race is both benefiting and being hindered by a lack of a Mitt Romney-like presence. I'm not talking about the man himself per se, but the one perceived "safe" candidate that consistently finishes second in the polls when another candidate surges. You may recall all the front-runners that soared and ultimately crashed and burned in 2011-12, leaving Romney as the party's choice; his opponents were favored by those who thought Mitt was too safe or too moderate. You would think that honor would go to Jeb Bush, but after an early lead he has gradually slipped away in the polls; it's getting harder to imagine him surpassing Donald Trump or Dr. Ben Carson, as deeply flawed as both candidates are.
(495)
Even with considerably fewer candidates, the first Democratic primary debate was not without its high points. The winner --by decision, not TKO-- was Sec. Clinton, who looked poised and comfortable throughout. Sen. Bernie Sanders was a good sparring partner, but his limited stance on the issues was his one big fallback; he seemed naive about foreign policy (especially on the Putin question) but positively nailed questions about the economy. Martin O'Malley pulled punches, Lincoln Chafee completely tanked (see the Patriot Act question), and I almost forgot Jim Webb was there. In situations like this less is more, and the 2016 Democratic nomination is now without dispute a two-horse race.
On the other side, the GOP primary race is both benefiting and being hindered by a lack of a Mitt Romney-like presence. I'm not talking about the man himself per se, but the one perceived "safe" candidate that consistently finishes second in the polls when another candidate surges. You may recall all the front-runners that soared and ultimately crashed and burned in 2011-12, leaving Romney as the party's choice; his opponents were favored by those who thought Mitt was too safe or too moderate. You would think that honor would go to Jeb Bush, but after an early lead he has gradually slipped away in the polls; it's getting harder to imagine him surpassing Donald Trump or Dr. Ben Carson, as deeply flawed as both candidates are.
(495)
Sunday, October 11, 2015
I, Blockhead
In the past few days, I've noticed a new meme on Facebook. In conjunction with the new "Peanuts" movie coming out in two months, you can create a likeness of yourself in the universe of Snoopy and Charlie Brown. Its a fun but inconsequential way to remind people that even if the comic strip ended over 15 years ago, the Peanuts brand never went away. Though the shelves of Hallmark are still crowded with Snoopy tchtotckes, the movie is a capital way to bring badly-needed fresh blood into the franchise. The brand has lied fallow for so long, there are now high school kids that weren't alive yet when Charles Schulz died; it's never been a cultural touchstone, just a bunch of cute toys.
That's not to say, however that I didn't have the cute toys. As a kid, I had at least one Snoopy doll, a few videotapes of the early '80s Saturday morning cartoon, and a handful of books. My kindergarten teacher was also really into Peanuts, and we bonded over that. (For a time, I even made my own comic strip collections, cut and pasted from the Chicago Tribune, and gave them to her as gifts. Hey, I was eight.) Even though I don't think we owned a copy, "Race for Your Life, Charlie Brown" was one of my all-time favorite movies. By grade school, I had transitioned from picture books to the comic strip collections.
For a strip that was drawn by the same guy with minimal assistance for nearly 50 years, "Peanuts" was the first time I noticed how an artist's work can change and progress with time. A shy farmboy from Minnesota, Charles Schulz was dead set on being a cartoonist at an early age. In 1947, he landed his first opportunity to draw professionally with "Li'l Folks," a single-panel strip that ran weekly in his hometown Minneapolis Tribune and later the St. Paul Pioneer Press. After 2 1/2 years, Schulz felt stifled by the local papers and approached United Feature Syndicate with "Li'l Folks." He agreed to change the strip's name to "Peanuts" (a reference to Howdy Doody's Peanut Gallery) and the rest is history.
Besides expanding from one panel to four, "Li'l Folks" was very much a rough draft of what "Peanuts" would become. The humor was cute but utterly pedestrian. The name Charlie Brown first appeared in the Minnesota strip, but it was applied to several different boys. The anonymous children in the strip were occasionally accompanied by a silent but knowing dog that was the prototype for Snoopy. Schulz submitted a handful of strips to The Saturday Evening Post, which sometimes featured (gasp!) adults. In adopting a four-panel format and leaping head first at a potential national audience, Schulz set certain rules, including limiting the perspective to children and dogs. Woodstock, the loquacious canary that Schulz introduced in the mid-60s, would forever have Snoopy as his confidant and translator. Miss Othmar, heard but never seen, would always have a voice not unlike a muffled trombone.
So why am I so transfixed on the idiosyncrasies of the universe that Charles Schulz created? Not only is "Peanuts" one of the few things I enjoyed in my childhood that holds up, it might actually be more enjoyable in adulthood. When I was younger, I gravitated toward the '70s and '80s strips, which were more gag- and plot-oriented. As an adult, you grow to appreciate the "classic era" (1956 to about 1971 or so) even more. It was sarcastic in an era of sincerity and earnestness, honest in a time of mincing words. Unrequited love and unattainable goals play heavily. In the 1990s, with the strip's dimensions altered to adjust for the dwindling size of the comics page, Schulz had built enough leverage to finally experiment within his strip. Sometimes he reminisced about World War II, discussed faith and philosophy on a more regular basis, and he even dwelled upon his own looming mortality. And yet, it was still extremely personal to the very end, a daily look into Schulz' tormented psyche.
When I do see "The Peanuts Movie" in a few weeks, it will be an intensely personal experience. I can't get through most of the old TV specials without crying, and I haven't seen "Race For Your Life" (despite being a light, slapstick-heavy kids movie) for fear of doing the same thing. I'll probably go the multiplex by myself, buy a ticket, sit in the back row and hope I don't use up all my paper tissue. I want to see this movie in a theater, partially to see if children can still relate to Schulz' little crew of underdogs and eccentrics, but also for closure.
(494)
That's not to say, however that I didn't have the cute toys. As a kid, I had at least one Snoopy doll, a few videotapes of the early '80s Saturday morning cartoon, and a handful of books. My kindergarten teacher was also really into Peanuts, and we bonded over that. (For a time, I even made my own comic strip collections, cut and pasted from the Chicago Tribune, and gave them to her as gifts. Hey, I was eight.) Even though I don't think we owned a copy, "Race for Your Life, Charlie Brown" was one of my all-time favorite movies. By grade school, I had transitioned from picture books to the comic strip collections.
For a strip that was drawn by the same guy with minimal assistance for nearly 50 years, "Peanuts" was the first time I noticed how an artist's work can change and progress with time. A shy farmboy from Minnesota, Charles Schulz was dead set on being a cartoonist at an early age. In 1947, he landed his first opportunity to draw professionally with "Li'l Folks," a single-panel strip that ran weekly in his hometown Minneapolis Tribune and later the St. Paul Pioneer Press. After 2 1/2 years, Schulz felt stifled by the local papers and approached United Feature Syndicate with "Li'l Folks." He agreed to change the strip's name to "Peanuts" (a reference to Howdy Doody's Peanut Gallery) and the rest is history.
Besides expanding from one panel to four, "Li'l Folks" was very much a rough draft of what "Peanuts" would become. The humor was cute but utterly pedestrian. The name Charlie Brown first appeared in the Minnesota strip, but it was applied to several different boys. The anonymous children in the strip were occasionally accompanied by a silent but knowing dog that was the prototype for Snoopy. Schulz submitted a handful of strips to The Saturday Evening Post, which sometimes featured (gasp!) adults. In adopting a four-panel format and leaping head first at a potential national audience, Schulz set certain rules, including limiting the perspective to children and dogs. Woodstock, the loquacious canary that Schulz introduced in the mid-60s, would forever have Snoopy as his confidant and translator. Miss Othmar, heard but never seen, would always have a voice not unlike a muffled trombone.
So why am I so transfixed on the idiosyncrasies of the universe that Charles Schulz created? Not only is "Peanuts" one of the few things I enjoyed in my childhood that holds up, it might actually be more enjoyable in adulthood. When I was younger, I gravitated toward the '70s and '80s strips, which were more gag- and plot-oriented. As an adult, you grow to appreciate the "classic era" (1956 to about 1971 or so) even more. It was sarcastic in an era of sincerity and earnestness, honest in a time of mincing words. Unrequited love and unattainable goals play heavily. In the 1990s, with the strip's dimensions altered to adjust for the dwindling size of the comics page, Schulz had built enough leverage to finally experiment within his strip. Sometimes he reminisced about World War II, discussed faith and philosophy on a more regular basis, and he even dwelled upon his own looming mortality. And yet, it was still extremely personal to the very end, a daily look into Schulz' tormented psyche.
When I do see "The Peanuts Movie" in a few weeks, it will be an intensely personal experience. I can't get through most of the old TV specials without crying, and I haven't seen "Race For Your Life" (despite being a light, slapstick-heavy kids movie) for fear of doing the same thing. I'll probably go the multiplex by myself, buy a ticket, sit in the back row and hope I don't use up all my paper tissue. I want to see this movie in a theater, partially to see if children can still relate to Schulz' little crew of underdogs and eccentrics, but also for closure.
(494)
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Sweet Resignation
In a weird sort of way, I sympathize with Rep. John Boehner. Like a right-wing Icarus, Boehner saw opportunity in the Tea Party takeover of Congress following the 2010 midterm elections. Ultimately, he didn't realize that the position of Speaker of the House requires more pragmatism than his far-right allies anticipated. The group of congressman that he caucused with were accused (somewhat unfairly) of caving to President Obama and house Democrats, especially during the disastrous government shutdown two years ago. John Boehner was the adult in a room of children, the one level-headed voice in a clown car of crazies. He was loathed by Democrats for pushing a rigid agenda, and disdained by some Republicans for being too wishy-washy. In the end, you almost can't blame him for resigning.
My primary concern, however is whether the remedy will be worse than the malady. The assumed short list of possible candidates to succeed Boehner is a mix of establishment and Tea Party Republicans, and overall not that inspiring. Whether or not this person serves beyond the next 15 months isn't dependent upon the Democrats making any gains in the 2016 election (a long shot at this point) but the various fissures within the GOP. This person will have the Sisyphean task of forming a united front for two large and disparate factions of the party, one louder than the other, an area where Rep. Boehner tried many times and ultimately failed. In short, the GOP parents are going out to dinner, and they need a new babysitter.
(493)
My primary concern, however is whether the remedy will be worse than the malady. The assumed short list of possible candidates to succeed Boehner is a mix of establishment and Tea Party Republicans, and overall not that inspiring. Whether or not this person serves beyond the next 15 months isn't dependent upon the Democrats making any gains in the 2016 election (a long shot at this point) but the various fissures within the GOP. This person will have the Sisyphean task of forming a united front for two large and disparate factions of the party, one louder than the other, an area where Rep. Boehner tried many times and ultimately failed. In short, the GOP parents are going out to dinner, and they need a new babysitter.
(493)
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Random Notes, September 2015
What's going on?
+ The second GOP presidential debate was not the eye-opening train wreck that the first one was. However, at over three hours in length it was an unprecedented marathon of bloviating, one that even I couldn't sit all the way through. Donald Trump did not apologize for remarks made about Carly Fiorina (remorse is not his thing) but the Hewlett-Packard CEO's steely, silent response was golden. The night was about all-or-nothing agendas; there will be no pragmatism for Planned Parenthood or illegal immigrants, but rather the same swift and close-minded platform that most social conservatives have held dear for decades. In the end, this was an 11-way dogfight and the democratic process lost.
+ Go Royals! I am really, truly hoping that our overworked bullpen has just enough left in the tank to make a second straight World Series appearance. The Bears' season is already over, Blackhawks training camp is being overshadowed by the Patrick Kane sexual assault case, and Bulls training camp is two weeks away, so at least I have something to root for.
+ Family Update: My mother is not undergoing surgery for her aortic aneurysm... yet. Apparently, only a handful of doctors are able to perform this type of surgery, but it is treatable and requires certain lifestyle changes (staying active, eating healthy, etc.). Worst-case scenario is, she would have heart surgery twice in one year, and it could be at the Cleveland Clinic two states over. However, at the moment she's taking the doctors' orders and doing just fine.
(492)
+ The second GOP presidential debate was not the eye-opening train wreck that the first one was. However, at over three hours in length it was an unprecedented marathon of bloviating, one that even I couldn't sit all the way through. Donald Trump did not apologize for remarks made about Carly Fiorina (remorse is not his thing) but the Hewlett-Packard CEO's steely, silent response was golden. The night was about all-or-nothing agendas; there will be no pragmatism for Planned Parenthood or illegal immigrants, but rather the same swift and close-minded platform that most social conservatives have held dear for decades. In the end, this was an 11-way dogfight and the democratic process lost.
+ Go Royals! I am really, truly hoping that our overworked bullpen has just enough left in the tank to make a second straight World Series appearance. The Bears' season is already over, Blackhawks training camp is being overshadowed by the Patrick Kane sexual assault case, and Bulls training camp is two weeks away, so at least I have something to root for.
+ Family Update: My mother is not undergoing surgery for her aortic aneurysm... yet. Apparently, only a handful of doctors are able to perform this type of surgery, but it is treatable and requires certain lifestyle changes (staying active, eating healthy, etc.). Worst-case scenario is, she would have heart surgery twice in one year, and it could be at the Cleveland Clinic two states over. However, at the moment she's taking the doctors' orders and doing just fine.
(492)
Sunday, September 13, 2015
First Responder
This has been, at least on a personal level, a lousy summer.
From March until early August, I held down a temp position at a company that does billing for ambulance services. In the five months I was there, I witnessed a 90% turnover by the staff, near-constant drama (both within the workspace and pre-existing) from certain co-workers, unprecedented managerial incompetence, and a general dearth of "book smarts" in a situation where "street smarts" didn't always suffice. From a personal perspective it was consistent work and challenging without being overwhelming, but the office environment uniquely chaotic.
I'm not sure if I could pinpoint an exact low point in this ocean of drama. Within two weeks of when I started, I had to take a personal day for my father's doctor's appointment. On the day I was gone, there was a catfight in the break room, the woman who trained me on a profanity-laced tirade, the ladies' restroom was trashed, and another woman went into false labor. I came back that next day to see 10% of the desks in the office vacated and a thick air of tension. The manager warned repeatedly before and after "The St. Patrick's Day Massacre" that the drama stays outside the office, but the revolving door of personnel never made that possible.
After about three months in the office, I was put on a special project. I had been working on billing, but they were shifting more people into processing insurance claims. There was a group of 12 or 13 of us assigned to work on three agencies in the Atlanta metro area; about a third of us had to be trained on how to do insurance. There were some growing pains, but in general the people who were transferred into this project were doing okay. The corporate office in Phoenix wasn't impressed, so we were summoned into a conference call meeting one Friday afternoon. They pointed out one mistake after another, some obvious and others that were close calls. One member of the team took an error personally and after the call ended she nearly started crying. Then another member of the team started talking about her troubled teenage son, and the whole thing turned into a therapy session. Suffice to say, it was uncomfortable and preposterous.
Then, on August 4th, it abruptly ended. I was sitting in the parking lot checking my messages when I received a phone call from my temp agency. The fact that they were calling when they did was not a good sign, and my suspicions were confirmed soon after. Initially the company claimed that I had nodded off at my desk --a false and damning allegation-- but they reiterated I wasn't a good fit. I was now a free agent again, forced to budget my money while I was stuck at home with two sick parents. I had hoped to take a road trip or some kind of mini-vacation, but circumstances quashed that quickly. I adore warm weather, but this was one summer where the heat did me no favors.
(491)
From March until early August, I held down a temp position at a company that does billing for ambulance services. In the five months I was there, I witnessed a 90% turnover by the staff, near-constant drama (both within the workspace and pre-existing) from certain co-workers, unprecedented managerial incompetence, and a general dearth of "book smarts" in a situation where "street smarts" didn't always suffice. From a personal perspective it was consistent work and challenging without being overwhelming, but the office environment uniquely chaotic.
I'm not sure if I could pinpoint an exact low point in this ocean of drama. Within two weeks of when I started, I had to take a personal day for my father's doctor's appointment. On the day I was gone, there was a catfight in the break room, the woman who trained me on a profanity-laced tirade, the ladies' restroom was trashed, and another woman went into false labor. I came back that next day to see 10% of the desks in the office vacated and a thick air of tension. The manager warned repeatedly before and after "The St. Patrick's Day Massacre" that the drama stays outside the office, but the revolving door of personnel never made that possible.
After about three months in the office, I was put on a special project. I had been working on billing, but they were shifting more people into processing insurance claims. There was a group of 12 or 13 of us assigned to work on three agencies in the Atlanta metro area; about a third of us had to be trained on how to do insurance. There were some growing pains, but in general the people who were transferred into this project were doing okay. The corporate office in Phoenix wasn't impressed, so we were summoned into a conference call meeting one Friday afternoon. They pointed out one mistake after another, some obvious and others that were close calls. One member of the team took an error personally and after the call ended she nearly started crying. Then another member of the team started talking about her troubled teenage son, and the whole thing turned into a therapy session. Suffice to say, it was uncomfortable and preposterous.
Then, on August 4th, it abruptly ended. I was sitting in the parking lot checking my messages when I received a phone call from my temp agency. The fact that they were calling when they did was not a good sign, and my suspicions were confirmed soon after. Initially the company claimed that I had nodded off at my desk --a false and damning allegation-- but they reiterated I wasn't a good fit. I was now a free agent again, forced to budget my money while I was stuck at home with two sick parents. I had hoped to take a road trip or some kind of mini-vacation, but circumstances quashed that quickly. I adore warm weather, but this was one summer where the heat did me no favors.
(491)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
