Category: Uncategorized
Canadian Satellite Radio
As you all know all too well, I am a radio nerd. I was a member of the Radio Prague Listeners Club, have received reception report confirmation cards from many nations, held a trans-Atlantic reception record for a while when I heard local East German radio in my old Nova Scotian home, listen through buzzing and clicking interference on poor reception nights to catch a moment of Steve Somers of WFAN and shared with you my joy at hearing California from eastern Lake Ontario a year and a half ago.
I have radio nerd cred and, though I am not hardcore, I would think that I would be the guy that satellite radio is aimed at. But when I have a look at what Sirius Canada is offering – now that the CRTC mandated puritanical technology delay is almost ready to be lifted – I just don’t know. I have a computer at home and one at work. Both play a bazillion stations and even some amateur nutcases making really bad radio to bring down the man, being in this case the corporate structure of global media, with their iPod (charmingly unaware of the irony all others see given that iPod is todays jewel in the crown of a corporate communication empire.) And yes, I have a bitchin’ Sony 2010 which has healed itself nicely which is my real window on the world. Plus I have a car with that wonder of wonders an AM/FM radio with which I can enjoy the exciting exploration of the unknown as I travel.
So what does paying $14.95 plus tax to get a subscription to Sirius Canada get me? Is it just that it will be the same wherever you are? How dull and dulling. More stardardized delocalized Omnitopian fare. Are you planning to sign on? Is anyone?
Cricketing Powerhouse

Odd that the Pakistani bowler Shoaib Akhtar should celebrate victory over England by running through a crowd of his teammates, flinging them into the air. But it is a different game and, as the BBC reports:
Inspired by Kaneria’s exploits, Shoaib then summoned up all his energy to deliver a destructive spell of his own.
No wonder I don’t really get this sport.
Vote Flea
Now that I have admitted my place is not in the spotlight, I must encourage you to vote Flea. Who else can cover the Kylie story like he does and still looks good in spats?
Holy Moley!
I have not yet gotten into the NHL again but I still know enough to know this is a massive trade:
The San Jose Sharks swung a shocking, blockbuster trade on Wednesday, acquiring Joe Thornton for a trio of former first-round draft picks. San Jose swapped Wayne Primeau, Marco Sturm and Brad Stuart for the talented Boston Bruins captain. “To get a player of this calibre, you have to give up something to get something,” Sharks general manager Doug Wilson stated. “You would make this trade last month, this month or next year.”
First thing I thought of was Esposito going to New York.
Day Three: What Phoney Campaign?
You didn’t think I was going to do this every day, did you? I couldn’t imagine pretending there was something of interest in every day of the campaign. But yesterday there was.
The Conservative’s call for a public prosecutor is very interesting. It places the accountability argument into the procedural realm which ought to be a yawner but it makes the issue of scandal not about what occurred but how it was treated. Nova Scotia has had a public prosecutor since the need to keep the Progressive Conservative Buchanan government in line became so obvious after so many of them were charged for this crime or that while in office. One wonders if the Saskatchwan Tories of Grant Devine might have better kept their hands out of the cookie jar had a public prosecutor been in place.
The idea also need not be limited to alleged crimes by those in office. In Scotland an office exists called the Procurator Fiscal which I understand is independent of both the police and the prosecutors and which determines if a criminal charge is warranted or not. They also handle complaints against the police. Similarly in the US there are grand juries, consisting of members of the public, who have to be told by the prosecutors of the charges and convinced that a proceeding should go on.
So Harper’s idea of an intermediary between the police investigation and a bringing of an accused to trial is both useful, tried and true and essentially neutral. Politically it is inordinately astute. How can you argue against it?
Freedom 77
There must be someone I can blame for this and its inevitable application here in Canada:
A gradual rise in the state pension age to 68 has been put forward as part of a major proposed shake-up of UK pensions. In return, the basic state pension would be increased and rise in line with earnings rather than inflation.
When I am still at the desk at 71 trying to explain something to a boss 50 years younger than me I really will need to know who I can blame…other than me, of course.
In The Days Of The Bubble
Jay has been noting events at the disasterously bad idea of Pajama Media – great evidence in itself that the A-list idea of 2003 never was – and I repeat the noting of this quotation below from the discussion board at “pajamasmedia.isfullofcrap.com” just for its sheer 1998-ish-ness:
When the only evident sign of investment is in the party you throw to announce an organization with an illegal name offering a service that no one understands and that you yourself aren’t entirely able to define, you’ve got a real problem.
Interesting to note that the URL for the thing is “osm.org”, still referencing that allegedly “illegal” name “Open Source Media” – illegal in that it was owned by some other media called “Open Source”, a fairly well known US public radio show. Nutty.
…but maybe now is the time to try to sell dog food over the internet.
Last Day To Vote
Have I been a nag? I have, haven’t I. Well, today is the last day. Round One of the Canadian Blogging Awards is over at midnight tonight and then we will see if the place and the beer blog get a top five ranking in any of the categories. You know, fourth is not bad. I am not demanding a first and – secret secret – it was I who nominated the Flea for best blog as I think he simply is the best one going.
So do vote. Incessantly. All that soft stuff above is nothing but a veiled attempt to make me come off as reasonable when all I want is the shower of praise and the spotlight and the prizes. There are prizes, right?
Omnitopia
Ian has been on a bit of a roll lately. Today he raises the question of standardization and homogenization of commercial culture on the road:
But on a long road trip, the understanding that you are never more than fifty miles from a Wendy’s chili (low fat, kids!) or the 100% positivity that the Starbucks in Barstow has hazelnut syrup can be… oddly comforting. I’ve railed against predictability and ninnyism my whole life, and yet I am given succor that there are 12,804 places to get a large fries with McDonalds’ bizarrely tasty hot mustard sauce. Omnitopia offers sanitation, can always provide a bathroom in moments of desperation. But it also means you will never try that fascinating-looking Mexican place three miles off the freeway. You will stop frequenting that indie bookstore, but why bother when Barnes & Noble lets you read on the couch in the aisle? Holding a Starbucks latté, for that matter?
While that attraction to the familiar is there my reaction to travel is the opposite. I want to find that Mexican place and add it to my own set of stepping stones as I travel across the river. The more I travel often through the same places the more I find the places I don’t expect to find there. So now I know there is a guy making “Syrians” in the centre of New Hampshire, that Di Pietros in South Portland, Maine is a little friendlier than the pizza is good, that there is such a thing as a chocolate Boston there, too, and salt potatoes in Syracuse and Cambodian diners here in Kingston. That is one reason why I have come to dislike the train or the plane as well. The car comes with brakes you get to use yourself. I plan to use them, too. I have to head into the Big Smoke overnight Thursday and I may stop, oh, about fifty kilometres off the 401 at an old church in the country for six small bottles of the finest pale ale in Ontario.
Sometimes it does not work out. Like the bad bathrooms. Like the roads you shouldn’t have taken. Like this summer’s side trip to the Connecticut shore where we had a hard time finding the spot until we found Mystic and the Sea Swirl. It is all about the hunt and it just takes time.