Breaking (pelvis) news...

It has come to our attention that while the Short Guy was obsessing about certain junior priests in New Brunswick -- and oh, how the mighty have fallen, although I think he's lost weight so maybe rehab helped somewhat -- our Chief Magistrate here in Ottawa was out getting wrecked during a driving lesson on a snowtercycle. In Osgoode, no less.

Sounds like he's out for the next four to six weeks, which as we all know, is an eternity in the dog-eat-dog world of municipal politics. Given the nature of the injury, he's probably in a certain amount of pain also, which is never a good thing.

Now, us coyotes generally disapprove of snowtercycles, especially in Osgoode. Guys out there, under the highly mistaken impression that we may have formed some sorta unsavoury intent toward their pet cats, chase us and try to mow us down with 'em. (Which when ya think about it, is pretty unsavoury in its own right. Unlike delicious, delicous cats. Ummmm. Perhaps I digress a digression too far...?)

Errr, anyway. Despite our distaste for the vehicle of his misfortune, we of the Irregulars who still keep a paw in this blog ancienne wish Mayor Watson a speedy recovery.

We even have suggestions about how he might quicken his return to public life. Although, given the deep cold which has for some weeks settled over the city and made life a trial for those uncharmed by record-length skating on the Rideau Canal, we hope his accident did not leave him any kind of post-traumatic aversion to vehicles equipped with snowmobile tracks... dogspeed on your journey to wellness, sir!

When in doubt, mumble. Again.

Canada's minister for international co-operation ain't nicknamed "Bev Yoda" for nuthin'.

Whenever she wades deep into (another) ministerial bafflement about exactly what "international co-operation" might mean, she's a verbal Jedi. As she spouts the political equivalent of "I'm not the droid you want", her characteristic circular confusion fogs everything around her, all the way up to the already-tortured ozone layer.

Now, there's a theory out there that she's really a genius, hamstrung by her prime minister. He doesn't know tweet (or Tweet©) about international development yet micromanages it on the fly, pulling partisan pseudo-policy out of his ass ummm, thin air. Then he kicks her onto the public gym mat, to flip-flop gracelessly in defense of the indefensible.

But the evidence suggests the incompetence is her own. Under her, the Canadian International Development Agency is so knotted up by contradictory ministerial directives that it doesn't do much anymore. This may be what she wants. Or what her boss wants. That way he can declare CIDA, and/or her, redundant.

Bev Oda's latest misadventure involves somebody who, after all the relevant high-level civil servants signed a funding approval for an aid group called Kairos, scrawled a big, crude "NOT" into the official typed document to reverse its intent at the last minute. And incidentally, the labours of CIDA's own approval process. After which the minister signed it. Ummm, maybe. She's called it a routine decision ever since, up to and including the point where the parliamentary speaker said yesterday that he probably should censure her for lying about it. Except that he was so damn confused he couldn't. See what I mean? Yoda.

Why would a semi-mythical coyote in a paw-sucking midwinter funk rouse himself to rail about the deeds a lousy second-tier minister, when bigger battles loom? Because of what it shows. Her party's, and her leader's partisan manipulation of every area of government policy, and its arrogant disdain for due process is something previous governments took decades to get to. It ain't doing much for Canada's shredding international rep. Or for that matter, us at home. These guys want an election? A majority?

Thank you for listening, InterTubes. I shall now subside back into my Slough of Despond, until only my wrinkled, seasonally affective nose is visible. Other, bigger, battles later...

An excellent idea from Bandobras

Audrey's posts have had me thinking about saving money, but I just can't do it. Fortunately Bandobras at Retired and Tired has a plan I can get behind:

Daylight savings time starts this weekend and if we all save as much as we can maybe there will be enough to go around next winter.

If it is dark and dreary again the government may make us save daylight all year round. It's up to you to do your part. If we all just save a little each day, through the miracle of compound interest I'm sure we can have enough to get through next winter.

He makes a good point that if we don't start saving daylight voluntarily the government may force us to do it anyway.

Tales from the sickroom floor

Ahem. Some of you among our avid followers may have noticed that the Elgin Street Irregulars have not been following the regular posting schedule of recent late. It seems that we, like just about every damn blogger in the near vicinity, may be undergoing a massive communal rhinovirus event.

Except me. I don't hold with hanging out with rhinoceroses (rhinoceri...?). Too big and stompy. Oh, I warned 'em all. But they wouldn't listen.

So, please direct your auras to transmit harmonious curative waves toward Elgin Street. And hope and pray that all of this close consorting with perfidious rhinocerosesesesesessss had nothing to do with questionable, unapproved, possibly illegal and immoral research for the Revolutionary New Dating Paradigm.... the mind reels. Rather as if we all had some kinda flu.

How many Arubans are feeling about this winter

How many of us are feeling about this winter in Ottawa

Sic (Ottawa) Transit (in)Gloria Mundi...

Huh. On Day 51, call the Ottawa transit strike "officially done". Stick a fork in it. And one apiece into Mayor Larry O'Brien, and union leader Andre Cornellier, for utter disgrace under pressure. Oh, hell! Bring out all the place settings and start forkin' everybody over! There's plenty of responsibility to go 'round.

The city and the union last evening agreed to binding arbitration - as much as any two parties with a big honkin' federal gun to their heads can be said to "agree". Seems it was pretty much the solution proposed within the first two days, before the Mayor and the leader of the union local turned the whole city into an arena for an epic personal pissin' match, the like of which even coyotes rarely witness. And we know from pissin' matches.

Now, we semimythical coyotes are never bitter, cynical and obsessive, or anything. Even as we lick chafed and frozen appendages. However, we suspect it will be highly instructive to observe (and carefully note) the order and speed with which this sorry affair's numerous flawed leads and over-confident second bananas trot out their individual attempts to publicly grab credit and apply their over-torqued spins, pre-fab self-justifications, and weaselly personal self aggrandizations. Oh, wait... it's already begun!

Less than 30 minutes after the announcement, unless the cheesy dollar-store digital clock I picked out of the trash one long-ago recycling night was even more bafflingly inaccurate than usual...

Now, excuse me. I'm going to go suck my frostbitten paws. But I'm not bitter. Or anything...

5 reasons why Coyote isn't blogging today...

1) Frozen ears.

2) Frozen paws.

3) Frozen nose.

4) Frozen tail.

5) I'm pretty sure there was a fifth thing - but it's either too numb to count anymore, or else it froze off completely...

Changing the channel

Don't look outside, just gaze at the photo