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
(A warning this is more of a sunstroke-induced incoherent rant, but nobody really reads this anyhow, so I can write what I want.)
So yesterday we loaded up the SUV and went to Hornby Island for the day, I should have waited until September.
It was only a day trip.
The island itself was absolutely gorgeous, as always, but the people on the island this time of year made it difficult to enjoy. One way to know why it was so difficult to be within the presence of these individuals was to overhear their conversations at the co-op and at the beach. Continue reading
“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
The National Post ran a report on Monday that a young woman who they call a reporter had some piss thrown on her (http://news.nationalpost.com/news/canada/activist-pours-bottle-of-urine-on-rebel-reporter-during-anti-fascist-in-vancouver). I disagree with throwing piss on anybody, and I probably disagree with everything the “second year student studying political sciences at the University of the Fraser Valley” (http://www.therebel.media/laurensouthern) believies in. I am, however, more interested in how the NP defines “reporter” in this case. Continue reading
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