I should know better. Just read the news, dumbass. Don’t read the comments. But a couple of days ago, while reading an article on a visit by a Turkish Minister to Saskatchewan, my eyes fell on this comment: “I would prefer the Sask Party government work with the other provinces to address any worker shortage first before going overseas. Even then it would be better to see if some of our US or British cousins would be willing to move first.”

And I saw red. Just why, exactly, would immigrants from the U.S. or Great Britain be preferable to Turkish immigrants? Well, we all know the answer to that one, don’t we? Continue reading →

The other night, NBC’s The Voice opened with a stirring tribute to the fallen innocents of the Newtown, Connecticut massacre. As each contestant and judge held the name of one of those tragic souls, the judges took turns singing the moving stanzas, and the entire group joined in for the chorus. As usual, when I hear that song, I choked up. It is a powerful piece of music, and juxtaposing it with the memories of slain children amplified that power immensely. I have little doubt the producers of the show knew that. That’s what they were aiming for. This is television after all.

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I truly believe that engaging in dialogue is a better solution than standing on opposite sides of the fence throwing stones at one another. But dialogue is hard. I think it’s the “di” part of dialogue that makes it so tough. You know, as in, “It takes two to tango.”

Anyway, here’s a Twitter exchange I was stupid enough to engage in today. Man, I really have to pick my dance partners more carefully in the future.

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In the aftermath of the Connecticut school shooting, I’ve spent much of the past 48 hours angry, angry at the senselessness of the event itself, angry at the media’s handling of the coverage, and angry at idiotic reactions like this one, “Blaming things like this on guns is like blaming spoons for making you fat.”

Yes, in case you’ve missed it, this is International Dipshit Analogy Week. Just chemically lobotomize yourself if you want to participate. It was one such analogy in a comment on a friend’s Facebook post that sparked the conversation below.

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This startling research recently received way more press attention than it deserved.

OK, here’s a news flash for researchers: when kids actively play, sometimes they get hurt. Unless we really want them to grow up in a cocoon of bubble wrap or spend their entire day sitting in front of a game console, let’s just learn to accept the odd booboo as a natural consequence of an active lifestyle.

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One might think it reasonable that in a country where freedom is a precious and limited commodity people would be a bit harsh and severe. In our experience, though, nothing could be further from the truth.

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