A Confederate Flag And A Mining Town

A guy I went to high school with changed his profile picture to him holding a Confederate flag while standing out in the woods. It has been puzzling me ever since I saw it.  Let me give the recent backstory of this guy (as I have been piecing together on Facebook):

  1. He has four children
  2. He spent several years posting bible quotations
  3. He also posted, during this same time, numerous declarations of his love for his wife
  4. He seemed to be unable to hold down a job (as evidenced by posts describing how his life was going to improve due to his new job)
  5. He recently lost his younger brother to heroin overdose
  6. Last week he posted he was in a relationship with a new woman
  7. One of his friends asked him if he was married under this post and he replied, “not for long”
  8. I looked at his status this morning and the previously described picture of him with the Confederate flag was posted

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How a Donald Trump Could Succeed in Canada

I spent much of the past week with an old friend from back home.  He and I have taken different paths since we left high school, but we share the bond of two people who grew up together in a small town.  We can still have fun like we did when we were 18 and I can connect with him on a barrier-free level that I am unwilling to even attempt with people I meet now.  This openness made for some insightful political discussions.

Let me be clear here, when I say my friend and I have taken different paths since high school, I am talking about stark differences.  My friend left school in the late 90s and has never sat in a classroom (save one-day courses required to be ticketed for his field) since then.  His line of work, oil, has allowed him to earn a substantial salary with no post-secondary education. Continue reading

Spring In Vancouver

 

“I know, let’s get some garlic sausage for dinner,” Shane O said “it’s on sale at Safeway for a buck fifty.”

“Sounds good,” was D’s reply.   They had been skating a bit in the early afternoon at the art gallery, and started drinking around three. The problem was, as always, money. Neither Shane O nor D could really afford to spend more than thirty dollars for the whole night. The beer they were drinking already cost each a little over ten dollars they still had a long ways to go if they were going to make it to the Palladium. Continue reading

A Thank You To Bukowski

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The Master

My dream to become a writer began in 1995 when Transworld Skateboarding ran a couple of interviews with professional skateboarders who praised Charles Bukowski (maybe Marc Johnson and/or Ethan Fowler interviewed by Atiba Jefferson?) .  I was 17 and would have done anything Transworld told me to, so the first chance I got I bought a Bukowski book – Septuagenarian Stew. Continue reading

A Response To Randy Pompetti

Yesterday two of my Facebook friends posted a link to a piece defending Alberta’s oil industry.  The piece was written by Rany Pompetti and attempts to defang any arguments made by those who oppose the oil industry, but does not succeed (https://www.facebook.com/randy.pompetti/posts/10153368453187946).  Instead it gets muddled down in its inability to decide on who its audience is; makes some borderline conspiracy theorist accusations against the United States; and, in general, does not address the challenges the industry faces and how it could do better.  My goal with this post will be to look at the arguments made by Mr. Pompetti and point out their fallacies and at the end of the article offer a stronger argument that could be used to help convince Canadians to continue to support the development of Alberta’s oil industry. Continue reading

Selling Vancouver Sun Subscriptions: The Upper-Middle Class Kitchen

The closest I’ve ever come to working in a sweatshop is when I worked for the Vancouver Sun.  Okay, I never technically worked for the Vancouver Sun, I worked for one of their subcontractors.  And, if we are being honest here I didn’t work for them very long, give or take two hours.  But, with those caveats in mind, let me tell you about how brutal that shit was (is?) Continue reading