Friday Funnies – ‘Cause Poutato Is A Thing!

My friend Randall and I shamelessly descended into punny madness and while desperately seeking humor in a gravy boat, I realized it was time for Friday ha ha’s again anyway.

So, prepare for a little ‘Meme-y Vice’ right after I demonstrate how we fell into the hell of PUN-ishment over potatoes and cheese, a mutual love of poutine.  It all began with this dreamy photo:

Randall: HEY CHEFS! Please make this happen! A twice-baked potato with cheese curds & gravy…I call it, The Poutato! (name needs work).
Robyn:  I’m in! Do we need to start a Go Fund Me page to make this happen?
Randall: There was a guy who had a Kickstarter for potato salad, so why not? Chongo, did we want to start a funding campaign for its development?
Robyn: Damn that Quebec! Going to go wander into the desert of Poutato now, until I reach the poutatoasis…
Randall: When you get there, give me a valholla!
Robyn: Hahaha… will do! Eden though, I won’t share!
Randall: Is it because I am such a pervana?
Robyn: It’s because you’re mostly encraptured…

Remember, I promised punny, not funny, but admit it, you won’t get the thought of the Poutato out of your head for at least a week. On with the show:

Bring it

And if you think this is awesome, you ain’t see nothing till you see our moose gettin’ jiggy wit’ it!

 

Bogey Man Danger

You all know this is truth – for life! For life, man!

ATM convenience

Hot romance material doesn’t get any higher than that!

wtf

Wonder if they asked if she’d like to super-size that?

50 shades of lego

It’s not so much that you can do this with Lego as much as the mind that actually did.

dog digging

Always a tattle tail in every family, am I right?

Who wore it

Who wore it best?

Have an awesome rest of July. Good luck to those who have months of hot political potatoes to endure. See you next week, in whatever form I manage to mash up.

RL

Posted in Humor, Laughs, Lighter Side, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 18 Comments

When Bunk Is Passed As Progress For All, We All Fail

I attended a rally yesterday to protest the continuing efforts to raze the land within the Peace River district of British Columbia and Alberta also known as Treaty 8 territory.  The protests are not about ‘hindering progresses’, they are about speaking against an incredible sense of depravity within the desire to forever ruin the lives of people and all the history of their ancestors for the simple purpose of serving big money. It is unconscionable and especially so because it is unnecessary.

The publicized intention is to flood that area’s prime agricultural and hunting/gathering grounds for the purpose of generating much-needed electricity.  In a word, that’s bunk. Typical BC Liberal & big business bunk.

site c protest july 9

Grab A Paddle- Stop Site C Vancouver protest gathering, July 9 Photo by, Devin Gillan

The basis is greed… spending billions of dollars to build a dam that will serve international need in industries that many people are coming to realize are relics of progress past and are in the midst of being turned away from for the betterment of the entire planet – the purpose is mostly for moving bitumen and tar products overseas.

Story after story has been published about the facts and figures of these points and still the BC Liberal government (a misnomer if there ever was one because this political party is as conservative as the former ruling party of Canada, the Progressive Conservatives) bulldozes on.  Links to a few of these stories are noted below.

I speak to the human side of this issue, about the real people who live there and who are somehow meant to be mere side effects of big business allegedly on behalf of the majority of the population which lives in BC’s lower mainland.

BC Hydro says 73-77% of BC residents support this project. I find it extremely hard to believe that many BC residents support this when most Vancouver residents already understand it is not the clean energy being touted:  “The Site C dam is being built with taxpayer dollars to generate energy for expansion of fracking and the tar sands, contributing to life threatening climate change and destroying precious farmland and artifacts,”  said Audrey Siegl, Musqueam Band member and community organizer, in a release.

Treaty 8 is my ancestral homelands.  In fact, my great-grandfather was a signor on that 1899 Treaty.  Do I think that he and all Indigenous signors believed they’d be signing away their homelands, the very source of life sustenance for their children and children’s children in any manner and for any reason close to what has been happening ever since?  I will ask you instead.  What do you think?

In only one of many examples of what this project for China et al is all about: when a government is paying out $55 million per year to turn off even one working electricity generator that means we have no power supply shortages now or for the immediate forseeable future. In fact, electrical consumption has been going down.  This is a make-work project for some people at the expense of generations of others.  It’s a get-rich project for even fewer.

I do not believe, I simply cannot believe, that the majority of BC and even Alberta residents think they are more important than the grandmothers, grandfathers, their children and their children’s children in northern communities. I think if it were about the devastation of their families and stunning landscape, they’d be vocal and taking action to stop this insanity too.

So, that’s what I’m asking for… that’s what I hope for – that people will help people in their own back yards not have to suffer and succumb to the utter havoc being wreaked against an area and the people who live there for no damned good reason.

Sign the petitions of the noted organizations working on behalf of this critical issue. Send your own letters to the provincial and federal governments. Sign the online works and forward the pages on. It’s that simple.  Surely to God, people can do that much to help their fellow neighbours…because eventually this greedy madness will affect everyone when the bills for it come due.  Remember when so many doubted the effects of climate change? Well this is part of the reason for it.

Please, for the love of God’s green earth – do something.

RL

Organizations you can look up to read about the issues or sign a petition:

RAVEN – Urgent Cause: Stand with First Nations against Site-C – Raven Trust
LeadNow – http://www.leadnow.ca/stop-site-c/
PVEA/Sierra Club/Y2Y – http://www.stopsitec.org/
Amnesty International – http://bit.ly/28Jvlpa
Official Government of Canada petition – https://petitions.parl.gc.ca/en/Petition/Details?Petition=e-324
Wilderness Committee
COPE
The Council of Canadians
KAIROS Metro Vancouver
Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society

Fight Site C – dedicated group

Vancouver protest of Site C dam at Vanier Park

Vaughn Palmer: NDP government would demand independent review of Site C

BC HYDRO SEEKS AN INJUNCTION FOR SITE C

Posted in Aboriginals, Business, Controversy, First Nations, Indigenous Peoples, Life, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

What Did You #%&*@* Say?

So, I was reminded not too long ago that my predilection for profanity was especially evident lately. Lately? Where hath these innocents been?

Yes, OK, I have a mouth and it’s pretty potty at times, but I believe I’ve earned it honestly. I’m sorry, but I cannot apologize for it.  According to even more recent studies than the ones that said swearing helps with pain, they now say my kind of swearing indicates genius level intelligence too.  I wouldn’t lie about that…. I’d swear to it….

So, in that vein, I (re)present an updated story I published a few years ago about passing the gift down…

For about a millennium now it’s been said that kids say the damnedest darnedest things. I know this truth first-hand and I’ve kept a journal to capture a good number of eyebrow raising, head scratching and -are you for real- statements that my son has spouted since he started spouting.

I always encouraged free and open speech with him and I’ve always adored hearing what comes out of that new and unfettered brain.  The only thing I’ve forbidden is swearing.  It’s not that I’ve pretended that swearing doesn’t happen; we’re all aware of its worldwide domination, thus he’s heard such a word or two in the homeland.

He had attempted to copy those words, but only once, (that I know of), OK, technically twice, but the second time was just a noun change.  It happened when he was two and a half.  We were on holiday and his dad was desperately searching our vehicle for the camera before the beautiful tall ships we were watching passed by.  While he was frantically throwing items left and right, he yelped, “Where’s my f*#kin’ camera”?

A couple of hours later, on our way home, I noticed my son frantically looking left and right.  I asked him what was wrong and he asked, “Where’s my f*#kin’ camera”? To be fair, his toy camera did, in fact, appear to be a missing casualty of his father’s earlier desperation.

About two weeks later we were playing tea party and he came out of his room with most of his supplies except one.  With hand on hip and grave consternation, he spoke. “Where’s my f*#kin’ teapot”?  We had a little chat and I have to say he’s been pretty good at finding alternative adverbs and adjectives ever since.

Actually, he would eventually become a little too efficiently aware; he grew into the Soup Nazi of potty-mouth alternatives. Our self-proclaimed lord of language decency worked his moral indignance to a level that drove me to drinkHe deployed a ‘swear jar’, a wretched vessel of confiscated loonies for every swear word he caught, thereby generously cutting into my own happy hour funding. Which also had me questioning my study-confirmed intelligence for having agreed to this insanity.

So, yes,  I can swear like a truck driver.  Actually, I feel that analogy is an insult; I’m certain my stupendous ability could teach a truck driver a thing or two.  Lest you accuse me of hypocrisy, I look at it like being an artist of abstract art who had to first prove that she can paint a real-life landscape before delving into free-flow style. My swearing is not a replacement for regular speaking skill, just occasional, as required, colorful enhancement.  Certainly some days need more color than others.

Also, as a public service announcement, there have been recent studies that state hollering four letter words helps to alleviate pain. Think about that the next time you hammer your finger.  No really, look it up.

swearing hammer guy

OK, back to my son.  What I’ve always told him is profanity is adult language; he’s free to swear when he is 18 or paying the bills, whichever comes first, (not gonna lie – secretly hoping it’s paying the bills).

No, I don’t really believe he will never swear again before he turns 18, but I’m pretty sure he’ll have learned to speak ‘real-life’ English first. After that, if he wants to add a little color now and then, fine, but more importantly, maybe then I can earn some #*@kin’ coins back.

RL

Originally posted on by
Posted in #MondayBlogs, family, Life, Lighter Side, Parenting, Storytelling, Uncategorized | Tagged , | 13 Comments

Margaret’s Baby

During a year of upheaval, reflection and even amazing rewards, a walk back to beginnings can help to return a sense of balance, to find an equilibrium that helps make life make sense again. I’ve been going back to some significant and poignant moments for me for that purpose. One of those periods was returning home after time spent in child foster care. This story was also published a few years ago, but for anyone who hasn’t seen it, maybe something in this will resonate for you too…

Sometimes old memories float up in need of
a little light…
A soul’s whisper to let it go.

curtains-city-skyline4

I was 14 years old.  My mother and I were living in an apartment on the 14th floor of a basic downtown high-rise.  We were there because that’s where she was when I ran away from the last foster home I’d intended to live in.

I threatened to run away and never be found again if they made me go back to that home.  The Department of Social Services, and my unprepared mother, gave in.

My mother had been struggling with escape from an abusive marriage, alcoholism, and no way to fully support her daughters.  That’s how we ended up in foster care just after Christmas that year.

We were six girls, ages two to twelve years.  I was twelve.  They were my sisters, and because I was the oldest, they were also my beloved babies. There was no doubt that having already traversed a very rocky start together, we were a fiercely bonded ‘band of sisters’.

I was quite used to taking care of them, and the house as required, which it seemed was almost always.  So, the demand to relinquish responsibility to the social workers who came to take us away or to the people who were to foster us was incomprehensible.  It was shocking and infuriating and frustrating.

Many nights I’d lie awake planning our escape from that foster home and formulating the many ways I’d find our mom. I usually ended up crying myself to sleep immersed in the despondency of realizing how powerless I really was.

We were all together in that initial home, except the youngest who was instead taken to live with our father – another story for another time.  I was eventually to move to two other homes within a year and a half. Only one sister was allowed to go with me; they gave me one day to choose between the four faces that pleaded to be taken.  Despite everything that we’d already lived through to that point, it was then that I learned that a soul could feel fractured.

In short time, and with little choice, we adapted and carried on as kids are so able. Then two years later, suddenly we were all being taken to visit with our mom at her own new home. The visit went by as quickly as I’d dreaded. When it was time to say goodbye to her, it felt like the beginning of all the bad goodbyes again. I could not return to that pain; the next weekend I bolted for home, for her, for good.

So there I was, on the 14th floor in a small, sparse apartment, a temporary only child, but finally with my own mom.  Life definitely took another turn in my day-to-day. I spent less time with my friends and more with my mother’s.

She had a friend on the 7th floor.  Phyllis was one of those larger than life characters; a hard-drinking party girl, a queen bee who had great pride in being a full-time ‘player’.  She seemed to take my mother under her wing.  She was a louder than life distraction for a young woman bogged down with desperate problems.

Phyllis held court to an allotment of very proud and loud butch lesbians.  They called themselves the girbols (girl boys, hard g).  One of them was Margaret. She was pretty, a large woman, and very quiet. Though she liked to hang out with the crowd and indulged in the same drink and smoke, she alone remained quiet.

I came home from school one day, at the start of spring break, and went down to the gang. There was a brand new baby girl cuddled up in Margaret’s arms.  I hadn’t even realized that she had been pregnant. The baby was so tiny and delicate, and wrapped in a pink blanket.

Spring Break began on a weekend and as on all weekends, it was time to get the girbol party started. I was immediately designated the girl baby’s guardian. I took baby, and all of her required possessions, up to my apartment.

The ‘weekend’ turned into nearly two weeks, during which I had full custody of baby night and day. It’s awesome, as in really awe-inspiring, how easily you fall in love with a child, even as a young girl, and you immediately wish to be everything it takes to nurture them to perfection.

She needed me for everything and I reveled in that.  At night, I would wrap her next to me and listen to her breath and smell the top of her head until I drifted off in true peace. Every minute with her was another moment of reclaimed love. I was once again protector, friend, sister, mother.  For awhile I was me again.

Spring break was over and I’d already missed two days of school, I had to go back.  That morning, I reluctantly took her down to the 7th floor, gave her back to Margaret and left for school.  When I came home, I dropped off my school things and grabbed one of her blankets to collect her. I sniffed her baby smell all the way to Phyllis’s apartment.

When I walked in, I saw Margaret sitting by the window, staring out with the curtains blowing around her. The girbol group was strangely quiet. I asked for the baby and no one said anything.  I went to Margaret and asked. “Where’s the baby”?  She wouldn’t answer, and then I saw her tears.  I was instantly alarmed, even afraid that the baby had gone out the window.

“Where’s the baby Margaret”?  I was ready to cry, but not sure why.

“They took her”, she said softly.

“Who took her”?

“Social Services.  I phoned them today and they came to take her away”.

I know I asked her why, maybe a few times, but I don’t recall an answer.  I doubt she gave one.

I turned from Margaret and I looked at everyone else.  No one would look back at me; they kept their eyes on the floor or each other.  I turned to Margaret again and watched her silently cry for a while.  I walked to the door and quietly closed it behind me.

It was the last day I saw Margaret, or our baby.  I went to sleep that night holding that baby blanket. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t.  Somehow, I knew in my heart then, that no matter how much I dreamed, I was never going to get my family, my  ‘band of sisters’, back in the same way again.

And, we didn’t, not ever in the same way again.

RL

Originally posted on, with original comments 

 

Posted in All-Time Top Ten, family, Grief, healing, Life, Storytelling, Survival, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 24 Comments

Friday Funnies – ‘Cause, Friday!

Started this funny stuff last month in sheer desperation to catch a breath from duty, dearth (of humanity) and a desire to break out of established molds. You know… what they used to call a mid-life crisis.

I had a good time with it last time, so I decided I’d add it as a monthly gig to my box of ‘shut-up and eat it’, (which incidentally also happens to be a monthly meal for my family too).

I think Forrest Gump’s mom referred to mixed expectations as a box of chocolates, but as my tagline implies, ya never know what you’re gonna get… plus, I want to apply this new word I’ve learned  – whatevs… It’s how you feel when life gives you a big fat break – finally! Could be time for another trip to the tropics soon, but in the meantime… ha. ha. ha…it’s my party, I can fun if I want to.

Croc love

Everyone loves to find a pair of killer shoes!

deer meat cheap

‘Cause the other type is a lot of doe…  …*slipping away quietly now*

 

boneless chicken

…And they’re thinkin’…. thinkin’….

drunk hunter

Or someone who didn’t realize the deal he could get on just the balls….

free would

But only for the Willing…

bar

…and asks, ‘Which way to 2th street“? …

common sense

…. and all these years I thought mom was referring to my wallet whenever I heard her say, “There goes cents-less again”…

CPR

Bahahahahahahaaaaahahaha… … Definitely, my kind of ape-shiz crazy….

Angry animal mine

I tried one of those Facebook test things. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. None of my exes are though… heh, heh, rawr!

cute angry

Now that you’ve had this unrequested insight into my demented state of mind, I hope I haven’t scared you off from the other regular goings-on around here …

See you at the funny farm or maybe a hot, luscious island. If not, have a fab June or if that’s too tall an order, at least the best weekend you can manage. Cheers!

RL

Posted in fun, Humor, Laughs, Life, Lighter Side, Uncategorized | Tagged | 17 Comments

La Beauté du Jour…. Tanka Lot

Belle

Tres’ récompense for
working the same come-hithers
Bien des champagne
Beaucoup décolletage-filled screens
Non belle special, after all

“Not a Sam-sue, Chris, Dan, nor even a Joe… say Bon Soir, Narcisse”, said the lady.

……………………………..

Message In A Bottle

Called her a lady
’cause east coast friends, north and south
proved that truth for him
Lady knew their secrets though
Wine reveals more than bod parts

 ……………………………..

Gone Fishin’

Tank’d a lot, that lot
and soon enough the angels
moved his lifetime best
to The Only Man worthy
Luck to all fish ‘O plenty…

RL

Photo: Feminine Sacrifices, by RL: partially posterized & colorized.
Posted in Micro Poetry, Photos, Poetry, Tanka, Uncategorized | Tagged | 8 Comments

Yes, I am That Confident – Up Yours!

It was 3 years ago that I posted the Facebook rant that launched my blogging career. Sometimes when you feel a little lost and like you need to meet you again, the re-set button can be as easy as looking into your own life archives. I’m fortunate mine was as easy a start as back to this beginning…

“Well you can’t fix stupid either and you proved that”!!  

Actually, although my blogging life has been an incredibly uplifting experience overall,  it blows me away a little that I’ve been insulted through it too from time to time. …But I digress…

That particular insult was lobbed at me in a Facebook note.  It was from someone who’d had only few superficial conversations with me and no involvement in the situation at hand at the time. Not that really knowing me, nor having full knowledge of the details then changes the bottom line.

I admit I was somewhat shocked at that charged-up energy that came at me. There are all kinds of ways to respond, but at the time I was more engrossed in the event that precipitated the results of her research.

I re-read the post later and those words actually ended up making me smile. They reminded me of a personal motto I used to say: “I hope I’m the dumbest one in the room”.  In return I usually got a look like I’d just confirmed that for them.

Peace

What I really meant was that regardless of whatever endeavor I was involved in, I wanted whomever else I was working with to be wiser, more knowledgeable, and more creative than me.  I was sure that would get me an opportunity to learn something, probably something great and hopefully a lot of it.  Yup, not quite that insult’s target, but I know myself well enough to be confident in what I may or may not be.

That event had interesting timing. Some friends and I had been having conversations about self-esteem and the often misinterpreted difference between assertiveness & confidence or self-centeredness & aggression. There are many examples of how these characteristics are practised, but in our chats we narrowed the illustration down to standing up for oneself.

We partially surmised that self-centredness starts with feeling some sense of entitlement or an innate belief that one can do no wrong. The world better be good to me first or the world is gonna hear about it:

“Don’t confuse my personality and my attitude because my personality is ME and my attitude depends on YOU”.

Awww snap! Or – Aw snap!, snap!, snap!- if they are particularly perturbed. This is more of a passive/aggressive or aggressive/aggressive defensiveness beyond my Psych 101 capabilities, or more to the point, my patience levels. Whatever happened to personal responsibility/self control?

On the other hand, real confidence says I will be good to you and if you are unkind in return, I can walk away with my self-respect fully intact without having to bring you down a peg to accomplish that. I would add that that also exhibits dignity, not an unworthy effort and something I wish I could have attached myself to much earlier in life.

Confidence asks how does whatever this is really matter to my life or me? Most of the time, whatever it is doesn’t make a bit of difference to anything.

Confidence also includes the element of humbleness. It says sometimes I may be wrong, but that does not diminish that I am a good and decent person and I will fix what I can fix about it.  By the way, the fixing action begins with offering genuine apologies, followed by genuine efforts to not repeat the offenses. Amazes me to this day, how hard this concept is for some to grasp.

Self-centredness mistakes the element of humbleness in confidence as weakness. That mistake is the weakness that truly exposes lack of self-esteem.

A little follow up: some time after sending that note, my ‘insulter’s’ defense was that she thought something negative was said about her. I did my best to reassure, but no matter, once her reaction was on the world-wide-web for all to see, the never-intended reason became fact for her anyway.  One less Facebook friend.

Too bad she didn’t take the minute to ask me about my intentions before she posted that over-the-top response.

So yes, it was interesting that that whole scenario played out right in the middle of those chats about confidence.  I guess you could say that a couple of us learned more than we were expecting at the time.

There’s far more to the depth of these issues than I can, or care to, note here, but if you were to ask me what would I say in return to that hotly lobbed insult now?  In short: up your self- esteem!

Yours truly,
Hopefully the Dumbest One in the Room

RL

Posted in Bullying, Confidence, Coping, Life, Self-Esteem, Uncategorized | 13 Comments

So, The Right Honorable Paul Martin Called Me Up On Calling Him Out

Revised May 18, 2016

2016 AvatarLet me state upfront that the title or my tone in this commentary is not meant with any disrespect toward former Prime Minister, The Right Honorable Paul Martin nor in the point of our contact.  It is only me – unapologetically speaking in my own voice, such as it is…

I wrote Mr. Martin in response to a statement he made in a May 12th CBC story headlined: “Canadians not racist but Aboriginal issue ‘invisible’ to many, says Paul Martin”.

While Mr. Martin did strongly point out then and in subsequent stories, various awful inequities thrown at the Indigenous that cause significant and terrible consequences, I could not let that one sentence go.

“Racism isn’t the culprit, but that doesn’t change the fact that the challenges faced by Canada’s Aboriginal Peoples have long remained out of sight and mind to many”, says former Liberal prime minister Paul Martin.

I was stunned. Not only because the very fact that we still have an active piece of legislation called the Indian Act, which is all about the business of managing the Indigenous, but every day we read stories of the examples of racism in action.

Every day I see other examples such as a recently posted widely-watched video put out by a very stridently racist Vancouver woman that compared AFN National Chief, Perry Bellegarde to Hitler, demanding that the AFN members be arrested for treason, and complaining that all “natives are obsessed with white people”.

This is all enough to question just the idea that Canada is not racist, a country built upon the lies of trade and/or conquering as most Canadians believe, but to have had that statement come from a high profile public servant widely seen as a friend to the Indigenous???

It was incredible to me.

So, I wrote Mr. Martin.  I noted the points above, a couple of others and attached the link to the despicable video.  I wrote to say I was disheartened along with outraged because his background as friend to the Indigenous was precisely why it was especially important to not let stand yet another whitewash of history to make Canadians feel better, despite the fact they have all benefited from taking the lion’s share of Indigenous resources.

I admit I had no expectation of a response as I’d yet to get one from any of the fine members of Canada’s upper echelon in all my years of writing to them about Indigenous issues. However, 24 hours later I received an email asking if I would like to speak with Mr. Martin.

Stunned for a second time in 24 hours! Of course I said, yes, and within minutes my phone rang.

I was a little surprised by the opening of the conversation.  I found Mr. Martin to initially be quite defensive, not quite ready to recognize why I could be upset. He said it was hard to accept that people wouldn’t be able to see his message’s point, especially given his personal record of working to undo the wrongs against the Indigenous over all these years of service.

He asked if I watched the actual interview, and I admitted I did not, however there was no video linked to the story either. He specifically mentioned crafting the Kelowna Accord with Indigenous leaders that former (thank you, God) Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, crushed the minute he came into office.

Of course I am aware of Mr. Martin’s efforts, and I do not, in any way, demean them.  I recognize the depth of his work is far more than any other Prime Minister, sitting or not.  I absolutely acknowledge Mr. Martin’s role in that Accord and I would note I have used that Accord as an example in several conversations on the potential for moving forward (and it’s the third reason I came to despise Harper as PM). But, again, that’s precisely why I took especial exception to his words.

To get to his point, he was saying the Indigenous problem with Canadians is based in ignorance, a lack of history knowledge moreso than racism.  I said I do understand that as in large part, I believe racism is ignorance too – however we have to be careful of how we state things too, because there is more to it than that.

It’s at this point, I wish I’d been able to think to say more about that, but he had to go and his last comment was that he still feels that to call Canadians racist will not help in the work to help the Indigenous. Sigh.

It was after we hung up, that I thought about all the people my friends, acquaintances, and anti-racism workers encounter on that daily basis.  I thought about all of those who, like that racist video creator, remain fully and willfully ‘ignorant’ of facts, I wondered about the rest of the Canadians who actually are aware of the inequities, the injustices, the utter horrors of their country’s history.

I wonder, Mr. Martin, what do you say about them, and how would you reply to questions such as:

What happens once the ignorance is dispelled, are these same Canadians then standing up for us?  Do they protest the inequities?  Do they even just move out of the way of progressing forward?  How many of these same good people are still exercising their right to indifference?

How is inaction or indifference not complicit racism then? Isn’t that what Edmund Burke was speaking to when he said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing”?

I spoke to my Elder, Maureen Kennedy about this conversation.  She said, “Yes, we have our own hard work to do to get over and through everything, but they have their own hard work to do too”.

I agree with Elder, except I’d say I do not agree that they should be expecting our comfort for them on top of it all.

Mr. Martin also sits as board member for the Canadians For a A New Partnership – a group of prominent leaders from both sides of the equation to “build a new partnership between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples in Canada”. How can that effort truly be accomplished if even a prominent member(s) doesn’t see the problem?

…And do Canadians really need to ‘feel better about themselves’ before they do the right thing?

RL

June 8, 2016 – 87% of Canadians believe aboriginal people experience discrimination: survey

An Indigenous perspective on the realities of racism:

Wab Kinew On Canadian Racism, Relocating Attawapiskat, And The ‘Criminal’ State Of Aboriginal Education

Martin email exchange

 Paul Martin reply May 16, 2016Email 1 to Paul Martin May 15, 2016 Email 2 to Paul Martin May 16, 2016

Posted in Indigenous Peoples, Life, Native Americans, Racism, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 8 Comments

Friday Funnies – ‘Cause, Why Not?

Sometimes life gifts you with a week… month… year(?)… you just wanna forget… Feelin’ like a ha ha or two?… Me too…

2th

I’m guessing named after an outthanding dentith  – DOH!

guess who

I was feeling a little peckish when I picked this..

constipation joke

Yeah, typical reaction to my jokes too…

Earth meetcow

Me and Cow are on the same wavelength…

centaur

Seriously… think about it.

CSI case

I hope they solve this before it’s too late.

Dads selfie

I am so freaked out that they have a gumball machine in the bathroom!

dinners ready

Son will confirm… just ask.

Disability

I think it could be for my kind of mentality.

best things in life are Cree

Ha!  Yeah well, at least my mommy thinks so…

Have a great weekend… see you on the funny pages – or in the padded rooms. Either way, I promise to laugh maniacally.

RL, out!

Posted in Humor, Lighter Side, Uncategorized | 13 Comments

That! Is My Answer

Someone once reached an uncharted part of me…
Only one time …
Ever…
Finally!

lovebirds

Someone dived deeply into my needs and said I will fight for them. I will be the salve that fills them.

I can do that.  I will do that – because you are so fucking worth it.

That!

It was that –  that ignited a visceral, cellular level response revealing a deeply buried gratitude effervescing in complete joy to the surface of my being.  For him.

It would take that to have me soaring after eagles again.
It’s what separates punks from the men,
The heroes from the ... weak.
It takes that for me to feel loved,
And safe,
And secure.

It’s that…
that I want
and need…
Still.
It was always,

That.

Why would I settle for anything else, ever again?
Settle for what?

Nothing less than – that.

RL

The end of tributes… I lay down tobacco today to finish the healing.
Posted in Dreams, Life, love, Poetry, Prose, Respect, Romance, Self-Esteem, Uncategorized | 17 Comments