theblogofthehandoftamm

This is how it feels to sleep 3 hours and go back downtown for your vehicle.

This is what you find.

It’s the worst excuse in the world. I’m not going to bother.

Today is a special day. Both the children have woken in the middle of the night/morning and want to be in the big bed. As a result, dad has kicked himself out at 4:30a.m. in order to come to the couch to type for you, dear neglected reader.

Having been away from posting for a score of days already, the chronology here isn’t going to make a lot of sense anymore but let me begin from the beginning and see where that leads us.

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Do you know what the difference between an American election and a Canadian election is? Optimism.

Whether you are happy with the results of yesterday’s election in the United States or no, one can’t help but feel an overriding sense of optimism, of a hope for a better future. That country (or a decent-sized portion of it) has given the signal that they’re looking forward to meeting the challenges of today and tomorrow with enthusiasm and a sense of purpose. How long that lasts and if it will come to pass is another matter, of course.

Whether you are happy with the results of last month’s Canadian federal election or no, one can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of frustration, malaise, cynicism, and fear. The few Canadians who made it out to the polls were not inspired by the promise of a new day but rather the pessimism of a dark tomorrow and who they wanted to avoid having as leader. The votes cast were surely more often than not the meek attempt at staving off a lesser-liked candidate or party. We had nobody to vote for and voted for ‘anybody but him/her’. (This is how jumped-up little tyrants like Harper get into office. Next thing you know, he’ll be talking about lebensraum.)

Where will our Canadian visionary leaders come from? Who will rise from among us, causing this nation’s citizenry to leap up off the couch, appeal to their neighbours to hear the call, and march to the polls as though something were at stake? I don’t think many Canadians have a faith in our system or in our politicians and, as there’s precious little to choose between them, really, there isn’t a compelling reason to go to the polling station, is there? Nope.

Ah, what the hell. There’s Champions League matches on today so look for me at the Proddy Arms, watching United grind Celtic into a fine powder. That’s a race that provides a modicum of passion for a jaded Canuck.

The results are in and apologies for taking so long to tabulate the votes. There was an unprecedented turnout at the polls and 100% of eligible voters cast their ballots for scotch.

On Sunday last, a tippling triumvirate sat down to weigh the comparative merits of Scottish waters. Here is how it all went down. My Brolaw invited me to drink scotch in honour of my recent birthday and it was to take place at my father’s house, where we would conduct serious investigations under controlled circumstances. I arrived to find a number of scotches on the table and stacks of forms awaiting my hand. As accompaniment, there was an ample selection of savoury snacks, including herring both smoked and kippered, olives and spicy cheese, fried bread and various crackers, smoked salmon, Polish sausage, and cashews. The paté remained in the ‘fridge because, frankly, who could remember everything once the bottles started being opened?

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