As we bathe in red and white, and feel supremely lucky to call Canada home, let me just say:
Won’t get fooled again?
Meet the old boss, same as the new boss?
“We will remove marijuana consumption and incidental possession from the Criminal Code….” That is from Justin Trudeau’s election campaign, and the sentence then goes on to hint at the draconian penalties lurking for anyone who sells pot “outside of the new regulatory framework.” So a win/lose proposition in the first place. But possibly a step in the right direction. But what is he saying now? “I intend to cause the next generation to become as cynical and disillusioned as their parents …” Er, sorry, that was meant to read:
“The laws haven’t changed yet,” Justin Trudeau said during an interview with News 1130 [a Vancouver radio station] this morning [March 1]. “Pot is still illegal in this country and will be until we bring in a strong regulatory framework.”
And when challenged about what he would say to a teenager who under the current regime gets a life record and jail time for some minimal amount of weed, this was the mealy-mouthed response:
“I think decriminalization is a bad idea because it doesn’t do anything to make it more difficult for young people to access it and it doesn’t do anything in terms of keeping the black market and the criminal organizations from profiting from it,” Trudeau replied. “That’s why I believe in control and regulation that actually will do the protection of public safety and of minors that we need. And in the meantime, it’s still illegal.”
Ass-hat. So to translate, once the government and their cronies figure out how to profit from this trade that is already controlled by the government and that they know enriches criminals, often criminals they know, they will develop a monopoly trade. Maybe. But right now, Trudeau proudly continues the traditions of our own Stephen Harper, and of course those presidents of whom I am sure he is so proud to be linked through policy, Hoover, Nixon and Reagan, and really every other president except maybe Jimmy Carter, using drug laws to control masses of people and keep the pharmaceutical industry and the arms manufacturers and swat team equipment sales folks happy and rich, not to mention the militarized police we have to live with, like those who just destroyed so much property in Toronto.
I am the face of legal weed. It has allowed me to live without harsh pharmaceuticals that I was prescribed, like Oxycontin and Lyrica, that had tremendously bad side-effects. But the threat I appear to pose, at least as far as I can figure out, is leaving the money economy … a plant that is simple to grow and replaces all sorts of harsh pharmaceuticals just cannot be allowed in this modern industrial complex that needs all its citizens to fill its tax coffers so they can use that money to continue to prosecute an immoral and extremely harmful assault on literally hundreds of millions of gentle souls who find much good in marijuana and little harm.
Study after study finds it much less harmful than all sorts of currently prescribed drugs but perhaps most frustrating is the difference in the way weed and alcohol are treated. The carnage on the roads, the domestic violence, the corrosion of the liver … families destroyed … you know which of the two I am talking about without me having to say it. It is and has been obvious to the powers that be for over a century that marijuana is relatively harmless and indeed salutary. But the so called War on Drugs has proved too tempting for the powers that be and they will not relinquish their hold on this venerable plant without apparently another century of bizarre disconnect between the laws and the people.
Stop the madness and legalize pot now. And if not, then get onboard with decriminalization and save the next generation from distrusting their leaders with the same well-earned cynicism of their forebears.
Oh, and have a lovely Canada Day.
![marijuana-canada-757x500[1]](https://i0.wp.com/www.xtybacq.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/marijuana-canada-757x5001.jpg)
Good Monday Fourth of July morning. We, just like when on the boat, didn’t drive home yesterday. Cottage festooned with our great niece and nephew, and they really are great in both ways. Elderly Mercruiser Grew boat almost fixed by clever hubby, and seems serviceable.
Finished listening to Smoke Signals. And am going to listen again. Now while it does get somewhat polemical, it is a topic that is hard to stay calm about when you realise the extent of the scientific ignorance and social control behind the inhumane War on Drugs. It truly boggles the mind and perhaps, on this day of all days, Americans might want to reconsider whether they really are the land of the free anymore. Tolerating freedom does not seem to be a strong suit. And Obama is as bad a hypocrite as the rest. Imagine having a Supreme Court decision disallowing medical necessity as a defence in Federal Court. It simply allows them to trample State law and makes a mockery of State legislatures and the will of the people. If Washington doesn’t approve, Oregon must suffer. It is so wrong-headed I am completely baffled. Why is it important? Stop caring if someone smokes pot. It just isn’t a big deal and everybody except the criminal justice system and the politicians that guide it knows that. And most of them know it too. But it is a big deal money wise and population control wise, and is a great way to disenfranchise people you don’t like. At least here you can still vote if you have a marijuana conviction.
Come on America, be the land of the free and the home of the brave that I grew up loving! Be compassionate to your sickest citizens and trust them to know what is best for them. And stop peeing in bottles! Stand up for your own integrity. Sorry to lecture on your birthday, but throwing cancer patients in jail because they smoke a little weed is not a proud legacy. We suck too, as you will notice from my post, but in this case you guys seem to suck a little harder. But Happy July Fourth nonetheless, I would try to be proud too. But remember that Coors helped elect your president and lobbies for the War on Drugs, so maybe just have a little moonshine, and smoke some ditch weed, while remembering that it used to be essentially mandatory to grow hemp throughout the States, when it seemed necessary for the military strength of the country.
And a good morning from Ottawa, where the lilies have indeed bloomed. Lovely to be home.
Good Thursday Morning. A quick garden update, as things really did start blooming, not all of them yellow! But these are certainly yellow and I honestly don’t know where they came from and am somewhat suspicious that I planted some Easter lilies in the vague hopes they might grow and they naturalized. These have been getting taller and with more blooms for a few years now, but I really don’t know when or how they appeared:
And lastly,
looking vaguely pink.
Good soggy morning. Good thing I took those pictures before the rain! Actually mostly the basil got hammered and the thyme, but they will probably rebound. The driveway looks like it was pressure washed, with rivulets of pine needles built into dams.
Quite something. Hope all are well in this strange world, and wishing the best for those who need it most.
Brave new lilies, and possibly my favourites colour-wise, out despite the rain, and adorning the inukchuk (spelling optional as far as I am concerned), who looks like a crying goddess, if you will excuse my flowery prose:
A drowning bath of thyme, but on closer inspection I think just fhyne:
The glorious turtle, who looks much more colourful in the rain, guarding the lilies:
And the hydrangea, looking distinctly pinkly:
Good morning.
Good Thursday morning. What a day yesterday with intense rain (and our dryer is caput so the laundry got an excellent wetting) and now sort of gloomy and humid. Nifty.
And just to be my old self, gold up, US dollar still up … hmnn. Just wash out from Brexit? But gold popped earlier. The tea leaves are as always not giving clean signals.
And now for the garden update I know you have all been waiting for.
Nasturshalums, blooming everywhere:
You can almost make out the beginnings of my attempt to espalier the forsythia along the fence, and I just like the inukshuk:
Mimi’s Massive Marigolds:
Faster than a speeding bullet and
And from the we aren’t all yellow (quite) category:
I wish you could smell these (but not Mouse):
And finally, yes, I think we can call it pink:
And good sunny morning, at least weather-wise. And maybe mood wise too, if coffee can help. My usual resources are not available thanks to a Canada Post strike that never happened but the threat of which threw Purolator into a tizzy, which has turned one business day into an entire week. A long week at that.
Oh wait, I missed an exciting garden picture, of the beginnings of an hibiscus flower, and yes, it too will be pink, I do remember:
Good evening. It was a busy weekend, and we did something nice for once and participated in an Easter Seals event where you could volunteer to take a family with a disabled child sailing. There was a naval water battle, a pirate ship and much fun and then we just stayed and sailed all weekend, behaved irresponsibly and stayed out Sunday night despite the plan which has succeeded to drive to Penetang for four days. Not to drive for four days … it just seems that way because we brought the hippie van which is definitely the slow boat to China.
Exhausted but happy, and hope the same is true for all.
Back home, exhausted but happy … seems to be a theme …
Wonderful week with four generations, and the boat did work, and so did the hippie van.
Good Weekend!
Of interest, to me, was this accidental re-discovery of a gardening technique that is popular when growing a medicinal herb that is becoming more legal. When I first planted the marigolds outside, this one got knocked over by wind and rain and possibly neighbourhood children, and developed a substantial lean:
That marigold has almost 20 flower buds. This one, that has been allowed to grow straight up, has far fewer:
I remember [hearing about, ed.] a technique where you would bend your seedlings over, tying the tops down and making basically a hoop of the plant, which would encourage multiple branches to attempt to be the top, and greatly increased the flower yield. I think next year I will try that with some of the marigolds. The height is great for further back in the flower bed, but I am enamoured of the idea of creating shorter bushes covered in flowers.
I am pretty sure the title is correct, and I stuffed some Easter lilies in the garden after they had bloomed … and after about five years these leggy beautiful lilies have really established themselves:
Good Thursday, I hope.
Oh and the bent marigold actually has more than thirty blooms! Astonishing.
Good Friday. Off on another adventure, up to Go Home via Penetang for the long weekend. Luckily eldest brother is able to inherit the family cottage and we are going to have a mini reunion on what happens to be the regatta weekend. A little too busy for me to be honest … being on a low ebb. But somehow it will all be wonderful, I just can’t see it yet. Soon the clouds will pass.
Good evening. I am a delinquent, exhausted, happy camper. Bacq in Penetang after a beautiful weekend. So beautiful that, to capture it in a nutshell, even this happened: hubby and Mouse entered the cannonball together at the regatta on Saturday and came in second place, and they gave Mouse her own ribbon at the awards before the party.Life being stranger than fiction, as is often the case.
Ahh, home sweet home.
Good morning. Off to investigate the old torn adductor and hope to generate interest in the mysterious lump they couldn’t identify on the guided ultrasound. I will be clutching the x-ray from my broken leg that conveniently seemed to capture my right side, and the latest MRI of my hip in the hopes that somebody can figure something out. I feel silly almost complaining because my pain is so much less than it used to be, but apparently pain is pain and when it is caused by moving, it gets to be a bit of a depressing nightmare. And when it wakes you up it is a little hard to ignore. Nothing like a weekend of clambering to really set it off too. So there is my morning moaning, but thank the great Pumpkin for our excellent medical care and modern technology. I certainly wouldn’t still be here to complain without it!
Last year attentive readers [ha! ed.] will recall a single flower on a hibiscus that for some reason I was sure was blue which was of course pink. Perchance three pink flowers this time?
And a coleus flowers? These two were sitting in a too shady for them spot and I recently (like a week ago?) moved them to the half barrel, and low and behold this occurred:
Imagine a flower that clashes with its own foliage! Follyage.
Good morning. Doctor report: not much to be done, given poor response to cortisone. Ultrasound ordered (at my request!) just to see if they can identify the thing they couldn’t identify. Thought they would be more interested in that. Physio suggested but not covered by province unless under 19 or over 65. At least with ultrasound ordered there will be follow up but feeling a hint of end of the road. But I do have two things to run with (as if I could run), as well as the unsurprising news that I do have a significant tear in my right hip:
Minimal edema of the adductor muscles, specifically adductor magnus, more pronounced on the right.
Insertional tendinopathy of the gluteus minimus..
So yeah, there you have it, or I guess there I have it. Could be a whole lot worse.
Good evening.
And good morning. Philosophy has flown the coop lately, and there is no doubt that I am somewhat depressed about the sorry state of where my right leg attaches to me body. The milk of human kindness is not flowing through my veins properly, and I am not tolerating fools well. Or non-fools for that matter.
But my flowers are still cool, and the hibiscus has opened! I put the nasturtium in the picture to give scale but it must be at least five inches across:
And yes, I have a weird scar on my left hand, where of all things a full frozen beer fell out of our parents’ fridge freezer when my brothers (who are older so it is all their fault) and I, sixteen at the time, were having a party in their absence and someone had put beer in the freezer to chill and when I opened the door the beer fell out and on its way to the floor paused long enough to slice my hand with the edge of the cap. Cut an artery and soon blood was literally pulsing out. Straight to hospital where they stitched me up with an adult impatience for the young. Fast forward two months and I can no longer aim a frisbee (yes that is how I noticed) and it turns out the tendon that makes your snuff pocket had been cut right through and I had to have surgery to pull an atrophied muscle back down my arm to be reattached and so they had to open up a flap on my hand.
I remember the plastic surgeon drawing with a red sharpie on my hand to show me what the scar would look like and asking if I was sure I wanted to go ahead. I am a leftie and cannot believe to this day that he thought I would rather not be able to use my left thumb or have a scar. Either way my days as a hand model would be over! But I did have quite the experience in the burn ward at Sick Kids in Toronto where a fellow had set himself alight by climbing a hydro tower and was burned head to toe, and another fellow who had had half his face burned off in a car accident and would come and talk to me for ages while I was stuck in traction, my arm hanging down from the ceiling. Poor fellow not knowing yet that he looked like a monster. And there was a girl having a tattoo removed … never do that …..
So a morality tale and also made it much easier for me to tell left from right as I still consult the scar quickly to make sure which left I should use, the right left or the other left as hubby calls them.
I measured! Eight inch diameter! Wahoo.
And then there were two:
Good Monday. A gorgeous day and our thoughts are turning to outfitting the boat for a Georgian Bay trip. Hoping for three weeks and to make it up to the North Channel and back from Penetang, leaving this coming weekend! So the toilet is out – to be replaced by a composting toilet employing a “separator” that people swear by, not at, we trust. And the list of druthers is long but possible. Now to figure out three weeks of food with limited refrigeration. Am I actually going to can bacon? Could be but it sure takes a long time in the canner. I found a recipe for canning crispy bacon rather than raw and am sorely tempted:
https://ruralspin.com/2012/02/27/the-best-canned-bacon-plain-maple-tabasco/