COBOURG OF ALL THINGS

Raise the Stanza of Living

2012-01-28T07:31:00.000-08:00

On Labour Day weekend in 1969, some young people took to downtown Cobourg with brushes in hand to paint the downtown, literally. It was called a Paint-In. Retail stores offered up their windows for a week to be painted by local artists. Only water-colours could be used. The Sept 3 issue of Cobourg Sentinel Star did a big front-page-above-the-fold spread on the Paint-In.

There are too many empty retail outlets downtown with store windows looking more like sore windows. Here’s the pitch.

Cobourg is chock-a-block with poets. They could fill the emptiness of windows with literary substance. One poem per window. The Cobourg Poetry Workshop is a gathering pot of poets, emerging poets, and poetry lovers who could easily fill the windows with their inspiration.

Surely the town could provide the paper and print one poem from each of Cobourg’s three Poet Laureates. The current Poet Laureate could vet the submitted poems from others.

There must be some aspiring poets in our three high schools who would like to display their highly refined literacy.

Don’t take my word for it, take theirs and celebrate it. Fill empty windows with eloquent intelligence. Spread the word. Bring poetry out of the better poems and gardens salons and take it to the streets.

Poetry all too often lies like a cadaver collecting dust on library shelves. Take it to the streets. Poetry for pedestrians.

Raise Cobourg’s stanza of living, post poetry on the ephemeral emptiness of store windows. Make Cobourg our poem and native land.

MESSAGE FROM PAINT-IN 1969

2012-01-28T06:22:00.000-08:00

Click on image to enlarge

THERE’S A MESSAGE FROM PAINT-IN

Cobourg Sentinel-Star, September 3, 1969

The many phases of man’s world seemed evident in downtown Cobourg in the youthful effervescence of the paint-in.
From the very young to the fully grown, they were there in long hair, beards, jeans, minis, with legs twined around step-ladders, long arms with free-moving brushes and imagination flowing into design.
What artist does not relish a window?
While vandals see nothing more creative than smashing a window, the majority of young minds are fired up inside with the incontrollable desire to use any window as a ready-made canvas.
They have that Alec Guinness mood, the Guinness who attacked a whole wall with garish colours in the headlong frenzy of a creator.
Behold the windows of downtown Cobourg!
The poet, the animal lover, the romanticist, the slogan writer, the commercial artist, the dreamy abstract one, the realist, the schizo, the funster; the characters of life were there leaping from inside youth to the window caricature of self and society everywhere.
Never was there such an exposition in downtown Cobourg.
There was that Royalist colour and design on the Thomas Electric window, the magnificent horses at Bradley’s. the comics page at Evan’s, Rosemary’s Baby at Stedman’s, a love-in at Cortesis’, the strong man at Woody’s; poetry at Woolworth’s … the prize-winning intricacy at Tom’s. the past, the present, the future, up and down the street.
There was no generation gap. The adult world enjoyed the paint-in and some saw what was not seen before … the tremendous potential of youthful talent in this town, out town, any town in Canada.
It was early morning, Friday, when the Sentinel-Star [Foster Meharry Russell] returning from a Boards of Education meeting, was hailed by Wally Keeler, Kathryn McGlynn and John Allan to see their artistry.
Here was a vignette of the past, for since the early days of printing the Gutenberg Bible, the flow of words in essay and musical line, design has been a part of books, poetry and life.

I CALL YOU WOMAN
REALIZING IT IS NOT ENOUGH
AND TURN AWAY
I THINK OF SISTER OF THE SUN
DAUGHTER OF THE DAY

Comes the indelible realization from the paint-in that there is not generation gap, except for the odd character on the street who doesn’t even understand a modicum of his own era.
The Sentinel Star was looking down Division Street late Friday afternoon.
Some young people were still busy on creative work on and off ladders.
A man and woman passed.
“This is a hippie town. They are all hippies.”
The man turned around and looked backward where a lad, paint brush in hand, was busy creating his thing. Said the man to the woman;
“Je ___ ___, they are painting the windows!”

There are a few in every crowd who do not understand, be they young or old.
Youth will never grow old, so long as they enjoy Archie and the comic page, age will ever remain young in the reflection of the creative light on the young face … for it is for youth to be up and doing and the adult to understand what the activity is all about.
And that for us at The Cobourg Sentinel-Star is the message of the paint-in.

Jack Vollering & Pre-Trial Hearing Jan 16

2012-01-17T05:09:00.000-08:00

Retired Catholic elementary school teacher, Jack Vollering, charged with sexual interference with a minor and sexual assault, was not in court for the scheduled pre-trial hearing on January 16. His lawyer, Taylor Smith, appeared in his stead, saying to the judge, "I would like to submit a designation why Jack Vollering is not in court today." Paper documents were handed to the Judge who moved the pre-trial forward to February 10, 2012.

Jack Vollering was a Catholic elementary school teacher in Grafton, Port Hope and Cobourg. Jack Vollering was well-respected in the local Catholic Community, especially the Knights of Columbus, where he rose to 'Faithful Navigator' in the Port Hope Council #6490 from 2008-2010, and last year was designated as Grand Knight. A 'Faithful Navigator' is the highest standing in the Fourth Degree Assemblies.

The local Knights of Columbus website asserts. "The Knights of Columbus is a Catholic fraternal order dedicated to the ideals of Columbianism: Charity, Unity, Fraternity, and Patriotism. We serve our fellow Knights, families, Parish, Church, Schools, and the community"

Previously acquired information about Jack Vollering can be found here:
Dec 14, Jack Vollering Charged With Sex Crimes
Dec 21, Are Children Safe at Local Catholic Elementary Schools?
Jan 16, Jack Vollering's son gets married in Mexico

Will Jack Vollering be going to Mexico Jan 16?

2012-01-12T14:15:00.000-08:00

Many residents of Cobourg are curious if Jack Vollering will make an appearance at his pre-trial hearing scheduled for Monday, January 16.

January 16 is also significant because it is the date that his son, Paul Vollering, will marry Dawn King in sunny and warm Mexico. The wedding had been in the planning stages for months.

Jack Vollering, 65, a retired elementary school teacher has been charged with sexual assault and sexual interference of a minor. Vollering had taught at the Catholic elementary schools in Grafton, Port Hope and Cobourg.

Israeli Apartheid ?

2012-01-11T12:36:00.000-08:00

Ted Amsden reads Musings Upon a Harbour

2012-01-03T19:07:00.000-08:00

Cobourg Poet Laureate, Ted Amsden, opens the new year with eloquence: "there were hills of coal at Cobourg's waterfront where children bike mounted, black faced, and day crazy challenged each other to greater heights," "stacking up moments of joy like cord wood," "our pact with the waterfront is as ancient as village life," "is visiting the beach and being toasted by the sun a suitable burnt offering?" "celebrate loudly this beachy keen delight we call Cobourg's harbour"

Are Children Safe at Local Catholic Elementary Schools?

2011-12-21T07:43:00.000-08:00

Several months ago, a member of standing in the community, was charged with sex crimes involving a minor. The accused was a long-serving elementary school teacher in Port Hope, Cobourg and Grafton. The St Michael’s Catholic Church bulletin announced that the accused was the Grand Knight of the local Knights of Columbus. The accused was also part of a group that expressed their distaste of a homosexual serving in the church, an incident that brought in the Ontario Human Rights Commission.

Several months have passed since the charges were laid, and not a word has been published in the local newspapers. Northumberland Today had no difficulty publishing a story involving a Catholic school teacher last June 5, 2008.

“Dan Burnie, an Occasional Teacher, was charged today by Peterborough Lakefield Community Police Services with two counts of sexual assault and two counts of sexual interference. The charges against Mr. Burnie relate to recent allegations by students at a Catholic school in Peterborough.”

In the blogosphere and social networks, some local residents have expressed outrage that there has been zero information provided to the community about the case. There is an information ban on any details whatsoever concerning the victim, and that is as it should be. Acting on behalf of the community, the state has laid charges against an individual. That is all the community needs to know at this point in time.

It is all that is needed to serve the needs of justice, because the message to the community will serve to enlighten the community and that enlightenment could well bring forth other victims, who were too traumatized to be the first to step forward with their story. The perps of such crimes are more often than not to have done their deeds over a long time and left a trail of victims.

The social media has brought forth allegations that there have been other instances, and that these had been brought to the attention of school authorities. This, of course, begs the question of local school authorities, (1) what did they know, (2) when did they know and (3) what did they do about it?

Jack Vollering Charged With Sex Crimes Against Minor

2011-12-14T03:50:00.000-08:00

JACK VOLLERING, appeared before court Monday morning last for a pretrial hearing on two charges; sexual interference of a minor under the age of 14 and sexual assault. The judge at the pretrial hearing took Mr Vollering's lawyer into chambers for discussion; later, Mr Vollering was advised to consult with his lawyer and then return for a court appearance January 16. Mr Vollering is free on his own recognizance with a promise to appear.

Jack Vollering, 65, has been a Catholic elementary school teacher for many years, teaching in Grafton, Port Hope and Cobourg. His last teaching assignment was grade six at St Michael’s School, located next to St. Michael’s Church in Cobourg. News of the charges spread today (Dec 19) to radio stations in Cobourg and Peterborough and also into the social media where the discussion revolved around how the school responded to concerned parents when they brought his behavior to their attention.

This is the same church with 12 parishioners who had received an Ontario Human Rights Commission complaint in 2009 from St Anne’s Spa owner, Jim Corcoran.

The complaint charged that Jack Vollering and the 11 other parishioners threatened “to go public with their complaints if the Bishop did not remove the 2 gay servers from the altar. . . . In their letters the group has tried to establish that I am married to my same sex partner, that I am an active homosexual leading an openly homosexual lifestyle and they implied that I may be in a relationship with Father Hood. . . . this group of 12 parishioners have used their distaste towards homosexuality to limit my right to serve my church and deepen my faith by serving on the altar, and to pursue a vocation within the Catholic Church. They have also caused me embarrassment in my church community by circulating petitions to fellow parishioners containing accusations pertaining to my lifestyle.”

A year later the complaint was resolved in mediation.

A year later, one of the 12 parishioners is facing accusations pertaining to his lifestyle; sexual interference of a minor and sexual assault. Pumping irony?

Jack Vollering is a member in good standing with the local Knights of Columbus. The July 3, 2011 bulletin of St Michael’s Church announced that he was the Grand Knight. Other church bulletins indicate that Jack Vollering was a winner of the Respect Life Lottery Calendar and that he was the contact for tickets to the Clergy Appreciation Dinner at St Therese Parish in Courtice.

OPP officer, Angela Ward, is the contact point for any further victims in the community or anyone who has information to share. She can be reached at 905-372-5421, ext. 10805.

JACK VOLLERING is ...

2011-11-24T14:38:00.000-08:00

a Grand Knight of the Knights of Columbus, as announced in the July 3, 2011 bulletin of St Michaels Catholic Church in Cobourg, excerpt below:

Jack Vollering was also one of 12 parishioners named by Jim Corcoran, in his Ontario Human Rights complaint about 'employment' discrimination because of his alleged homosexual activity. Read Mr Corcoran's spin on the Group of 12 activity in this blog entry:

There is an unsettling irony in Jim Corcoran's remarks here, "One thing you can say about Catholics -- they like to talk."

And a lot of talking is about to splash all over the Church of Perpetual Virginity.

P O E T R Y Z' O W N in Port Hope

2011-10-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

Jenny Sampirisi croaked at Dreamer’s Café in Port Hope last September 26. Jenny was launching her first book of poetry, CROAK, published by Coach House Books. Formerly held at Farzinis, this poetry outreach program of poet James Pickersgill, made its debut appearance at Dreamer’s Café, just as Jenny’s first collection of poetry made its debut appearance at this wonderful venue.

Jenny took a few moments out of her hectic book-mongering schedule to take the oath of allegiance to Poetry.

On the same bill, Bob MacKenzie, of the Kingston area poetry cartel, brought his special grounded poetry. Explore his website, and you will see that Bob’s earthy eloquence is prolific. He also took a few moments to take the oath of allegiance to Poetry.

Ted Amsden Acceptance Speech

2011-10-06T07:15:00.000-07:00

It was stanza room only in the Cobourg Council Chambers, October 3, when units of verse of the universe, the better poems and gardens set, the poetariet, and other elements of poetry circles and triangles, gathered to bear witness to the decree that Ted Amsden will be Cobourg's third Poet Laureate.

The Cobourg Poetry Workshop has posted a splendid interview of Ted here. Also the same page has a link to Ted's acceptance speech in ascii -- it is worth the read.

It is also worth a listen. After all, it did receive a stanza ovation.

BARD TO THE BONE

2011-10-06T06:52:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

In Pierre Elliott Trudeau, Canada has at last produced a political leader worthy of assassination.

– Irving Layton, 1912-2006
– The Whole Bloody Bird, 1969

From Northumberland Today

In Ted Amsden, Cobourg has, at last, produced a poetical leader with a poem-grown Canadian voice worthy of inspiration. Canada long ago evolved and shucked its colonial constraints; likewise, Ted Amsden has now shucked the classic stuffiness of the better poems and garden set.

I can hear units of verse throughout the Universe applauding the appointment.

Bard to the bone, Ted Amsden is a word warrior wunderbard who will beat back the sub-verse activities of the Blandinistas (aka mediocrity mafia) of Blandland. The 101st Textual Assault Group of the Creative Intelligence Agency, armed with the latest surface-to-sentence similes awaits his poetically correct inspirations.

On behalf of the poetariet of the Imagine Nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry, I congratulate Ted Amsden for his official appointment and we look forward to his ++expansionist activities on behalf of our poem and native land, the United Imagine Nations.

May he continue to practice unsafe text without a net.

Wally Keeler

Peoples Republic of Poetry

Cobourg Ecology Garden Par-TEA Sept 24, 2011

2011-10-04T13:42:00.000-07:00

Committee members of the Cobourg Ecology Garden and members of the public participate in the tree planting tribute to Minnie Pennell, the founder of the Cobourg Ecology Garden, as it celebrates its 15th anniversary.

Russell Lake Letter of Appreciation

2011-10-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

Russell Lake has been a committee member of the Cobourg Ecology Garden since its inception 15 years ago. The event was part of the 15th anniversary of the founding of the Garden by Minnie Pennell. The event was September 24, 2011.

Johanne Loken Speaks @ Cobourg Ecology Garden

2011-10-04T13:31:00.000-07:00

On September 24, 2011, former Cobourg Councillor, Parks and Recreation, Johanne Loken, spoke at the Cobourg Ecology Garden's 15th anniversary Par-TEA event. A tree-planting tribute to Minnie Pennell, the founder of the Cobourg Ecology Garden, was the feature event of the day.

Joan Chalovich speaks @ Cobourg Ecology Garden

2011-10-04T13:24:00.000-07:00

On September 24, 2011, former Cobourg Mayor, Joan Chalovich spoke at the Cobourg Ecology Garden's 15th anniversary Par-TEA event. A tree-planting tribute to Minnie Pennell, the founder of the Cobourg Ecology Garden, was the feature event of the day.

Eric Winter reads Poem For a Gardener (M.P.) @ Cobourg Ecology Garden

2011-10-04T13:00:00.000-07:00

Poem for a gardener (M.P.)

I doubt if you noticed the crow that was there on that day
the one with a faraway look in his eye
thin, with a hump back, pecking away
poking at mud,
making a couple of flaps with a cry
pretending indifference as any crow should.

You did not know then you’d soon be taken with Rue,
Fever Few, Lungswort and Leprachaun’s Gold,
Too taken up with the plain buttercup
with Fleebane and Woodruff, Bloodroot and flax,
and all of your flora.
In brief, you were a bit lax
when it came to observing that black bit of fauna
still keeping an eye out, nosing around
and pecking away in the corner.

Now apples are ripe and ready for plucking
sunflower all blackened.
Rudbekia gone and gone Coreopsis,
Stacis Byzantia, gone is the Primula
and only Chrysanthemum stays. How summer flies!
Now here’s a surprise
It was me, me wearing my Halloween disguise,
I was that crow with the hump and the shifty,
faraway, look in his eyes.
And I saw it all.

He came like a storm telling stories of stables.
The big one, immortal, who labored twelve fold
and by ruse he had stolen the apples of gold
fresh from the garden of Hesperides
and (Good Heavens!) it has to be told
You got taken in,
He seduced you down by the harbour’s west wall.
I wasn’t meaning to watch, I tell you,
I wasn’t meaning to watch,
I wasn’t meaning to watch for the fall,
but I saw it all.

It’s too much on my conscience for me to stay mute
I know what went on with that bearer of fruit,
stinking of cow muck.

Say what you will - the mythology pardon
I’ll tell them to look by the lake.
The consequence there!
They can see for themselves -
the little one there called Ecology Garden
I know what you did.
I know what it was went on there
I’ll let the town know.
Watch out now.
You’d better beware.
For I’m going to tell.
I’m going to tell on you
Minnie Pennell.

The Treedom of Minnie Pennell

2011-09-19T11:16:00.000-07:00

Minnie Pennell has been referred to as Cobourg’s First Environmentalist, the Queen of Green. The legacy of her presence in Cobourg can pretty well be seen everywhere.

Take a trip down the main streets of several Ontario towns.None are as rich and lush with the naturalness of green things as is Cobourg’s King Street.

Cobourg poet and columnist, Grahame Woods was recently moved to eloquently extol the beautiful breathing boulevard of trees along King Street that has been providing canopy services for generations of Cobourgers. The gentle curve of King Street cleverly positions the Town Hall clock tower in the middle of everyone’s focus, pedestrians and drivers alike.

The same canopy that inspires poets, also inspires shoppers, financial industry workers, manual labourers, caterpillars of children heading to Victoria Park, drive-through tourists, delivery truck drivers, countless bicyclists,, and the rare drunk fallen face up, lost in a swirl of stars and green, oh so much green, all over the place.

How can this be attributed to one individual, the late Minnie Pennell, the founder of the Cobourg Ecology Garden?

Minnie didn’t plant those trees. She simply lived her green life amongst them and came to love of the natural disorder of things expansively. As a result, Minnie blessed many organizations with her wilful energy.

She was a member in good standing with the Willow Beach Field Naturalist Society, which mandates itself as nature advocacy. Former Chair, Russell Lake, recalls Minnie as a “strong-willed woman” who easily convinced the Willow Beach crowd to provide funding for the Cobourg Ecology Garden that existed only in her mind at that time.

She was the chair of the Cobourg Environmental Advisory Committee in 1995 when the seed of the Cobourg Ecology Garden began to germinate. This was the magic of Minnie – spreading a good idea around, turning sceptics and agnostics into believers of the green embrace of the earth. She was an organizer, a go-getter, the mother of nurture and nature.

Where the Cobourg Ecology Garden now sits, was scrubland at best. The nearest neighbours were fuel storage tanks, coal piles, and a harbour devoted to serving industry. As this faded into history with the development of Legion Village, Minnie saw the opportunity to develop an ecology garden at the foot of Hibernia Street.

Cobourg Councillor, Miriam Mutton, worked with Minnie at the idea stage of the Ecology Garden. She was a landscape designer. “The garden is a reminder of our connection to the earth and the location makes it easily accessible. We need an opportunity to reconnect during the day,” said Miriam.

Former Town Councillor Bob Spooner was responsible for Parks and Recreation when Minnie first approached him about the development of the Cobourg Ecology Garden. “I remember her as a very determined woman. She had a well-informed answer to every question I had,” added Mr Spooner.

In February 1996, the Ecology garden got its go.

Minnie’s ability to draw in the community to realize the vision of the Ecology Garden was notable. Northumberland Community Coalition Garden Chair, Ben Burd, was involved in discussion of common aims with Minnie that spring.

Preparing for the Ecology Garden’s first Earth Day ceremony, April 22, 1996. Minnie Pennell told the community that the Garden will provide a “unique opportunity to participate in, as well as enjoy a community garden unlike any other in town.” The turn out for this sunrise ceremony was inspiring.

Minnie Pennell was an organizer, speaking one on one, to colleagues, to municipal power, to anyone that would be helpful to the project. In a missive she wrote, “An ecology garden has a great potential to become an invaluable inspiration and teaching tool for all gardeners, novice or experienced, and will bring together in a safe, pleasant outdoor work environment many different age groups.”

That Earth Day was the beginning of 15 more that has brought a dedicated community of volunteers to continue the legacy. At the first dedication of the Ecology Garden, as the first sliver of sun rose above the horizon, the warm words reached out to the gathering; “May the gentleness of spring rains soften the tensions within us, and the power of ocean waves steady and strengthen us. May the wisdom of earth open us to mystery … the music of its forest streams delight us and the simplicity of its wildflowers captivate our hearts. In silence let us experience the sun.”

Minnie Pennell did more than raise a Garden. She also raised a green consciousness throughout the town, a consciousness that spread slowly but steady. Listen to Cobourg politicians and you will hear traces of that consciousness, for example when Mayor Gil Brocanier makes a passing reference to Cobourg’s beautiful ‘urban forest.’ That is Minnie’s influence.

Councillor Miriam Mutton commented that Minnie, “was a focused and energetic community-minded citizen who was passionate about the environment, and, knew how to get things done. She was fearless when it was necessary to bring a matter to the attention of the local politicians.”

In the Cobourg Ecology Garden Minnie lead by example and encouraged people of all ages and abilities to get involved. She made it easy for others to volunteer because she expressed her appreciation.

“I knew Minnie mostly through involvement with the Ecology Garden and in this regard Minnie's legacy to Cobourg is her leadership by example in enabling opportunities for others to participate, and, to enjoy the simple pleasures of a garden and the important lessons to be learned there about our environment.”

Since that beginning the Cobourg Ecology Garden has grown and developed and become an intrinsic part of Cobourg life. It is not just a place where green things grow, but where a green consciousness grows.

Over the years the Ecology Garden has instructed local students who have gone on to university education in related fields of ecological research. The garden has provided an opportunity for growing vegetables in a totally organic manner, without chemical interventions. The food that has been grown has been provided to various United Way agencies, shelters, transition homes.

All this from a single seed: Minnie’s life enhancing spirit. Although she was in the centre of things, her inherent generosity was limitless. In a letter to the editor, 1998, she extolled every individual and organization that had benefited the Garden.

The Cobourg Ecology Garden was not the last stop on her green ambition. Cobourg Poet Laureate Emeritus, Eric Winter, did little more than point to a plot of land on Elgin Street and suggest an arboretum, when Minnie took the baton and made it a reality.

Mr Winter recalls that time, “Minnie was the major fund-getter for the arboretum - she went to the bingo regularly and hated the smell of cigarettes which she had to endure as a result. She was great to work with. We got people to donate trees ($200 in the ground) and we aimed to get as large a variety of examples as we could.”

The arboretum is diversity on display year around. It is a community of trees sharing sun and soil as the seasons rotate in accordance with the natural harmony of living things. This is the manifestation of Cobourg’s greatest treedom fighter.

The lush King Street canopy is an inheritance, as is everything that emerges from the soil with the sole intent of facing up to the sun. Minnie saw to it that generations of Cobourgers would not squander their inheritance, but rather, enrich it with continuing care.

The Cobourg Ecology Garden will be celebrating the legacy of Minnie Pennell on September 24, from 10am-2pm. A Black Cherry tree will be planted in tribute at 11am. Poetry will be read. Music will be provided. Most of all, living things will be encouraged to continue their unrelenting evolution.

==================

The poem below was written by Eric Winter and first published in p o e t r y'z o w n, issue 8, officially released on Thursday, February 26, 2009

Poem for a gardener (M.P.)

I doubt if you noticed the crow that was there on that day

the one with a faraway look in his eye

thin, with a hump back, pecking away

poking at mud,

making a couple of flaps with a cry

pretending indifference as any crow should.

You did not know then you’d soon be taken with Rue,

Fever Few, Lungswort and Leprachaun’s Gold,

Too taken up with the plain buttercup

with Fleebane and Woodruff, Bloodroot and flax,

and all of your flora.

In brief, you were a bit lax

when it came to observing that black bit of fauna

still keeping an eye out, nosing around

and pecking away in the corner.

Now apples are ripe and ready for plucking

sunflower all blackened.

Rudbekia gone and gone Coreopsis,

Stacis Byzantia, gone is the Primula

and only Chrysanthemum stays. How summer flies!

Now here’s a surprise

It was me, me wearing my Halloween disguise,

I was that crow with the hump and the shifty,

faraway, look in his eyes.

And I saw it all.

He came like a storm telling stories of stables.

The big one, immortal, who labored twelve fold

and by ruse he had stolen the apples of gold

fresh from the garden of Hesperides

and (Good Heavens!) it has to be told

You got taken in,

He seduced you down by the harbour’s west wall.

I wasn’t meaning to watch, I tell you,

I wasn’t meaning to watch,

I wasn’t meaning to watch for the fall,

but I saw it all.

It’s too much on my conscience for me to stay mute

I know what went on with that bearer of fruit,

stinking of cow muck.

Say what you will - the mythology pardon

I’ll tell them to look by the lake.

The consequence there!

They can see for themselves -

the little one there called Ecology Garden

I know what you did.

I know what it was went on there

I’ll let the town know.

Watch out now.

You’d better beware.

For I’m going to tell.

I’m going to tell on you

Minnie Pennell.

Cobourg Ecology Garden Cards

2011-09-18T08:22:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

Monarch Butterflies Swarm Cobourg Ecology Garden

2011-09-13T17:33:00.000-07:00

Abandonment of King Street, Cobourg.

2011-09-12T11:55:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

This has not been in business for years. A prime location, with a patio area overlooking Victoria Park would seem like a winner for an ambitious entrepreneur.

Cobourg's busiest business intersection has been overlooked by three stories of abandonment.
Saucy Essentials is winding down and leaving sooner than you think.
The only use for this space has been for ephemeral elections.

Has not been opened for business for months and continuing ...

Another temp for purely political purposes
No longer serving.
Moving out next month

Lenah Fisher at Rock Festival Aug 12. 1970

2011-09-05T13:52:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

Cobourg Police Services search info for VIA bomb threat

2011-09-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

Cobourg Police Services spent a leisurely Labour Day searching the net via BING for "Cobourg police bomb". Later they went on to GOOGLE search the terms, "Cobourg police bomb comments and photos". They ended up focussing most of their attention on the posting entitled, "for the BURD BLAND BLATHERGABS.

Click on image to enlarge

One Week After Ribfest Departed Victoria Park

2011-08-30T06:29:00.000-07:00

August 29, 2011

Parks Management was on the case to repair and maintain the grounds the moment everything Ribfest was removed. Kudos for that. The grounds had taken quite a pounding for the previous 8 weeks or so and proved its overall resilience. The entire grounds were aerated and seeded. It was supplemented by a good soaking of rain. The yellow patches have almost got all their green back. Other rough areas are showing green life returning. Other barren areas still show the grunge, grass by a tree is still shiny and slick with oil.

Compared to last year, there were virtually no scars from the tires of heavy vehicles. It rained last year and this year, but the heavies were handled quite gingerly.

Click on image to enlarge

The TREEDOM of VICTORIA PARK takes another hit

2011-08-25T11:44:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

The tree was already compromised by rot, and the fury of the storm that swept Cobourg August 24 took advantage of the weakness. Several high canopy trees have been taken down this year.

OPEN LETTER TO COBOURG TOWN COUNCIL

2011-08-24T23:40:00.000-07:00

Last year Cobourg Town Council received several recommendations that addressed the annual contamination of Victoria Park with industrial amounts of cooking oil and bacon grease from the monster cooking rigs that serve Northumberland Ribfest.

One of the simplest of those recommendations was the request for a platform, or tarpaulin or any other prophylactic device to prevent this annual contamination. Prevention! – what a concept!

There was a recently floated suggestion to allow for permit-only bbqs confined to the Lion’s Pavilion. There is a reason for that. It has a non-absorbent floor. Prevention. But Ribfest gets a free ride to crap anywhere it wants on the lawns. Why was no effort made to prevent this gross spillage of cooking oil and bacon grease? It’s not that Council and the Ribfest organizers didn’t know about it; they did. That was last year.

Look at the attached photos of the fifth annual contamination. The Ribfest organizers did what to prevent this happening again? Nothing that I can see. Every resident of Cobourg should go down to bear witness to the injury to Victoria Park. Observe how long it takes to recover. Visit it every other day or once a week, but check it out. Members of the Parks Advisory Committee should certainly make a walk past twice a week for their own observances.

Question; are those cooking oils and bacon grease biodegradable in a matter of minutes, like rain, like tears, like the natural disorder of natural things? It’s not fertilizer nor coffee, tea, soft drinks, juice drinks, slushies, ice cream carelessly dropped by a nonchalant child. No, no, no, this is big time real contamination done by adults.

These adults chose not to address the annual grease dump in this Great Green Heritage District this year for reasons known only to them. They don’t answer to me, but they should have a civic responsibility to answer to the larger community for this continuing contamination of the lawns. Cooking oil and bacon grease cause harm.

Look at the pictures. Note the oil-slicked grass around the base of a tree that sat behind the cooking rigs. Sloppy sloppy work. Completely preventable. All it would take is the requirement of a tarpaulin or some sort of competent containment.

Repeat after me, “Cooking oil and bacon grease cause harm.”

Look at the pictures. See in some the green grass lovingly trampled by partiers. This is some tough resilient grass. Paramount quality. Fit for daily frolics by countless children. Yellowed grass gets its green mojo back in a couple days. Easy to live with that. But not with dead grass but live root that gets its green back much much slower. Not days, but weeks. There are more and more places were the grass is sparse, where the soil is soaked barren with ugly guck.

Repeat after me, “Cooking oil and bacon grease cause harm.”

Look at the pictures. Dozens of plastic bun bag clips litter the ground, along with two splinters of a broken plastic glass, four depressions caused by a support device left unfilled (golfers with class restore divots.) The park loves bare feet, especially children. There should be no area where children should fear to frolic. “No, no, Johnny, don’t play over there, the ground’s greasy and grimy -- you’ll ruin your clothes.” Every day exuberant caterpillars of children weave their way from daycare to the park.

Repeat after me, “Cooking oil and bacon grease cause harm.”

Look at the picture of the crude boil around the manhole cover. No one in Cobourg is permitted to pour their cooking oil and bacon grease on public lawns let alone near entrances to the storm sewer system. How could such hazardous waste be permitted near that?

Victoria Park is no second level or neighbourhood park. It is top of the top, a crown jewel, a star, The One and it deserves the respect of an environmentally protected area. An easily preventable injury has been done to the lawns for the fifth year in a row. While some patches grow back in days, too many others take weeks. A woman’s black eye will get its colour back before some of those contaminated patches green up. It can no longer be cavalierly dismissed with a grass-grows-back attitude.

Repeat after me, “Cooking oil and bacon grease cause harm.”

Before entering Victoria Park next year. will it be too much to ask that those mobile monster grease pits be diapered?

Click on image to enlarge

COTTENWOOD COOKED IN VICTORIA PARK

2011-08-23T08:46:00.001-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

There is no more need to negotiate with the organizers of Ribfest. This photograph was taken Tuesday Aug 23, 2011. They have caused more damage to Victoria Park than a summer full of outsiders. Town Council was told about this possibility happening. Nothing was done. Cobourg Town Council has demonstrated that it is nothing more than a sock puppet for the Rotary Club. And the Parks Advisory Committee needs to explain why they do nothing. No monitoring. Year after year, the grease and oil is spilled, and a proud cottonwood tree that took how many generations to reach its majesty was brought to its knees by a mere cook-off. How pathetic is that. Where is Councillor Larry Sherwin?
------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote the following above: "...was brought to nits knees by a mere cook-off"

That was inaccurate. Two trees have died -- both of them from Dutch Elm disease. Two trees have died -- both of them are elms, not cottonwoods as I asserted. Every other large tree in the park is a Cottonwood, but not the two that died. Rather than take down the posting above, I let it stand so that my errors are exposed for transparency.

However, I will be posting pictures soon of the usual industrial strength grease and cooking oils on the lawns.

STANZA ROOM ONLY @ MEET AT 66 KING

2011-08-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

It was stanza room only last Thursday evening as the Cobourg Poetry Workshop assembled another monthly poetry reading gala at the faux grand salon at Meet at 66 King Street. It is a wonderful place where the local better poems and garden set gather to indulge in refined eloquence blended with the finest pirouettes of soliloquy.

The feature poet was Mick Burrs, the poet formerly known as Steven Michael Berzensky. In 25 words or less, Mick was born in the USA, became a conscientious objector to the Vietnam war and arrived in Canada to enrich us with poetry ever since.

Mick delivers his poetry in a subdued voice; the strength of his words do not require volume. Much to my personal delight he turned tovarishch and introduced the richness of Russian poets Osip Mandelstam and Anna Akhmatova, then launched into his own poetry, especially a short poem of Stalin, in which he briefly delineates the cruel horrors of his deeds then ends the poem with Stalin’s hand lovingly stroking a grandchild’s hair.

(Can we imagine today how lovingly Muammar Gaddhafi might be embracing his children each night, strongly, as if it were the last time that he could hold them?)

The evening began with some Chinese language lessons of the first order. John Stubbs provided a handout to the audience which presented excerpts of the Tao Te Ching written by Lao Tzu. The handout was a brilliant device because it contained not only the Chinese characters, but also their transliteration as well as a translation in such an eloquently colloquial manner that the audience could get it. This was supplemented by Wayne Shlepp who read the Chinese in his own voice with impeccable clarity.

The evening concluded with a powerful and emotional performance by Deborah Panko, a Cobourg poet who has been acquitting herself since letting her inner poet chirp and sing and pirouette on very branches of poetic expression. Deborah’s voice is unique and distinctive from the illuminati literaturistas of the Local Lot. She has a full bodied laugh indistinguishable from a mortar.

The poetry reading at Meet at 66 King was sublime compared to the rowdy poetry reading two evenings earlier at Art Bar in Toronto. It was the last time that Art Bar will be holding its venue at Clintons on Bloor. Next month it will be at Paupers Pub, just down the street. But I’ll tell that story later this week with video to match.

For the BURD BLAND BLATHERGABS

2011-08-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

The retro-progressives of Deb Oh Oh and Bland Christie are in fine form publishing their presumptions about the VIA faux-bomb incident, focussing their tut-tuts and tsk-tsks on police conduct.

Pete Fisher wrote the following, “Cobourg Police Sgt. Nancy Saunders said the man allegedly made a comment to train staff that there was a bomb in his luggage. His luggage was removed from the train and his wife was directed to open it and go through the items while officers stood a safe distance back.”

That is all there is in the public domain about the incident. Now let’s have a look at the take by locally renown DebOO and her never-ending self-serving crusade against poverty and evil white dudes who are very unswarthy.

1. “the officers decided to use the man's wife”
2. “the police decision that it was appropriate to use the man's wife to uncover a possible bomb. How can that be right? If his companion was his child or auntie, would they be asked to volunteer for the job too? Why was his wife? What's going on?”
3. “…urges the missus to file a complaint. It's atrocious that a family member of a suspect is treated in this manner by our officers, and so casually too.”
4. “this type of callous behaviour”
5. “Shame on them for showing such poor judgment.”
6. “the wife being used in lieu of a bomb squad.”

Throughout her presumptuous self-righteousmess, the reader is led to believe that the woman was somehow coerced to perform this act reluctantly, aka against her will. DebOO asserts that the police had so callously used the wife that the wife should file a complaint about her atrocious treatment. Concluding that the police were very very bad (atrocious) DebOO wags her scolding finger -- Shame on them.

BLAND CHRISTIE ups the presumptuousmess a notch. He asserts, “The Cobourg police acted in a manner that requires an investigation. No common sense was used. The woman was publicly humiliated not once but twice. First in being made -in full public view- to do the job of the police and open the luggage and afterwards to take a taxi to the Cobourg police station. The police acted as bullies.”

All the facts have been obtained and a judgment rendered: “The police acted as bullies.” Bland Christie, who applies common sense in every instance, concludes that “No common sense was used.”

Hmmm let’s try something out. A scenario that does not assume the worst of the cops.

Suppose the man and wife were expressing differences to each other. Perhaps he was half-cut or stoned or both. He allegedly had some pot. So the guy is a jerk and makes a stupid remark to train staff using the words “bomb” and “luggage.”

The train staff begin to implement some protocols, stopping the train in Cobourg and calling the cops. Meantime, the stressed out wife, who had to put up with her jerkass husband for the last 73 minutes on the train, and now this, pleads with the train staff to ignore the goof. She packed the suitcases herself, she declares, and there is no bomb, no bomb, she says.

But the train staff go all automaton protocol (as delineated by Dan The Bland work-to-drool union censor) and on come the cops to arrest the man. While on the train, the wife pleads with the cops that there is no bomb, that she packed the bags and she volunteers to open the suitcases to prove her point and after a bit of discussion the banal plausibility of the wife’s story convinces the police to “direct” her to open the suitcases. The stressed out wife proves her point – NO BOMB. Whew all around.

Insofar as the police not driving the wife to the police station along with her husband, she was not charged with anything. The Cobourg police have no mandate to provide taxi service to any adults. The woman is fully capable of taking care of her affairs by herself. It is her decision whether she continued on VIA or stayed in Cobourg.

If Bland Christie & his sock puppet, DebOO had their way, the train would have stopped in a field away from population, disembarked all the passengers in a deadly heat and vehicled them to a nearby air conditioned shelter to wait out the hour after hour after hour while the “experts” arrive and sniff the train, baggage car included. Once every protocol is signed off, the passengers can be vehicled back aboard to continue on their journey, perhaps in a few cases, to learn that they missed their flight.

The retro-progressives of BURDBLAND would have imposed a fascist experience on everyone. Yep that blandinista with as much intelligence as stale beer, stomps his righteous fascist boot: “The arresting officers should by now be suspended until an investigation is completed. The train employees should be suspended and should be giving full statements.”

The stupid fart gratuitously threw in some mud on Pete Fisher – “Pete Fisher should searh (sic) his soul and find out what makes hero worshipers like him tick. In short, this whole debacle stinks to high heaven.” Sock puppet, DebOO coos and disses the Fish in tandem. She also indulges in racial profiling (“the man does look a little swarthy in the pix”), presuming that all “bombers” are swarthy, a stereotype that is inaccurate. But then again, she does have an obsession with the unworthiness of white skinned people, feeling a need to constantly bring up skin pigmentation to support and identify stereotypes to score political points.

The only souls that need to be searched are those of the ménage a trios of the circle jerkistas nesting in BURDBLAND. Gobble gobble gullible!

COBOURG VARIATIONS by STUART ROSS

2011-08-13T12:18:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

I arrive in the field back of the town hall of Poet Hope, (the secularistas call it Port Hope). I was looking for Stuart Ross. I was downwind and immediately noticed that something didn't smell write. It smelled like one part you're-not-from-these-parts-are-you and nine parts exuberant innocence. It was in that aromatic ambiance that Stuart Ross presented his chapbook, which had that new chapbook smell, COBOURG VARIATIONS.

(Cobourg is my home town. I tell you that so that you know where I'm coming from. Cobourg has a very long and rich poetic history. There are many dead poets all over town that have been forgotten by the prose bags that do all the hard work to make Cobourg feel good. Cobourg is renown for holding its poetry readings in a fabulous faux salon thereby earning a national rep as the better poems and garden set.)

So there is Stuart Ross launching his first writings inspired by his very presence in Cobourg and he does it where? In Poet Hope, which is a comparable town only eight tokes away from Cobourg. This is a very troubling situation, because Stuart wants to continue to live in Cobourg for his foreseeable future.

This information is going to circulate throughout the local literary circles and triangles.

COBOURG VARIATIONS is a frolic. Stuart asserts that there are four dogs for every human in Cobourg. He is correct. Before you get the idea that Cobourg is an open dog pound, you should be aware that Cobourg has the most literate dogs this side of history.

Stuart did a splendid piece called 28 LINES ABOUT COBOURG. It is a treat to see how he arrived in Cobourg and took down its details and recylced them into a place much more wonderful.

The best part of COBOURG VARIATIONS is the price. Stuart delivers a density of imagination that deserves a higher price.

JAMES COCKBURN: a Father of Confederation, first Speaker of the House

2011-08-12T08:28:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlarge

Cobourg resident Rob Franklin portrayed James Cockburn in a play written by local historian and journalist, Rob Washburn with Rob Franklin. A brief video of James Cockburn was produced by the Cobourg Museum Foundation. The local community maintains a hardscrabble site about James Cockburn.

Cobourg Canine Cognescenti

2011-07-23T18:26:00.000-07:00

Click on image to enlargeThe dogs of Cobourg do not mark turf with doggerel, but with poetry.

Better Poems & Gardens

2011-06-22T08:57:00.000-07:00

EARTHLY; Cobourg Ecology Garden

2011-06-22T07:43:00.001-07:00

Cobourg Ecology Garden posters

2011-06-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

Pst -- Ben Burd Doesn't Like What I Wrote Below

2011-05-04T18:59:00.000-07:00

Last March 24, the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) adopted a resolution concerning Syria entitled, 'Human rights in the occupied Syrian Golan'. It was sponsored by (snare drum roll) Cuba, North Korea, Venezuela, the Group of Arab States, the Group of African States, the Organization of the Islamic Conference, an erstwhile bloc of outstanding human rights role models, yessiree.

The text of the resolution reads, "The Human Rights Council [is] Deeply concerned at the suffering of the Syrian citizens ... due to the systematic and continuous violation of their fundamental and human rights by Israel..." That's it. Not a word about the perpetual torture of countless civilians in Syrian custody; re. Mahar Arar.

The UN Human Rights Council in collusion with the UN General Assembly overwhelmingly concerns itself with the transgressions of the only real and functioning democracy in the Arab ummah -- Israel. Can anyone point to a UNHRC resolution that is critical of any Arab dictatorshit in recent years?

Year after year, the UNHRC displays itself as a fascist Jew-bashing organization. In the last session the UNHRC adopted the same number of resolutions and decisions condemning Israel, as the rest of the 191 UN countries combined. Get it? 190 countries versus 1 country. What does that tell you?

This is not an anomaly -- it is chronic, year after year. Oh, and guess which democracy is systematically denied a seat on the UN Human Rights Council. Go ahead, guess. Israel. How’s that for inclusiveness, eh? How’s that for apartheid! The defendant is denied the human right to defend themself by a Human Rights Council no less. The Israeli Knesset has Arab/Palestinian representation; a Palestinian is a Supreme Court judge; the Palestinian or Arab people living inside Israel enjoy more rights and freedom than Palestinian or Arab people living in Arab countries. There is far more apartheidism in the Arab ummah, and it is far more brutal and deadly.

Typical of Western stupidity, U.S. UN Ambassador, Eileen Donahoe last year declared, “We are coming to the end of a session that has marked a significant shift at the Human Rights Council. We believe this session has been important in part because it coincided with an important moment in history, and because the Council has shown itself able to deal with changing circumstances on the ground…”

Sure. You believe that don't ya?

Recently the UN published Syria's 'pledge': “Promotion and protection of human rights are of highest importance to Syria…Syria’s candidature to the Human Rights Council signifies its commitment to respect and to support the inalienable and indivisible nature of all human rights.” Syria went on to say "Syria believes that its membership on the Human Rights Council would contribute towards enriching the quality of dialogue...aimed at the promotion and protection of human rights for all peoples”.

The U.N. General Assembly, which elects members to the Human Rights Council, are required to "take into account the contribution of candidates to the promotion and protection of human rights and voluntary pledges and commitments made thereto." It is easy to see that a UNHRC member can make a “voluntary pledge and commitment” then continue to betray human rights in their own country and undermine it in the world community via the UNHRC fig-leaf.

Will Syria become a member of the UNHRC this May 20, when candidates are presented to the UN Assembly for election? Well, note that just last June 8, a Syrian diplomat spoke to the Human Rights Council about Israel; “This is a state that is built on hatred. Let me quote a song that children on a school bus in Israel sing merrily as they go to school and I quote ‘with my teeth I will rip your flesh with my mouth I will suck your blood.'"

This is how renown ngo, United Nations Watch replied to that blood libel:

Last year Qaddafi pledged that “the Libyan Arab Jamahiriya is fully committed to the promotion and protection of human rights principles.” A whopping 82 percent of the U.N. General Assembly thought that was sufficient to welcome Libya into the UN’s idea of a human rights agency. The likelihood that Syria will get a seat on the Human Rights Council looks good so far. After all, the Security Council can’t even get together to rap Syria’s knuckles with a mere tsk-tsk statement.

Forget that Syria is a family dictatorshit of Alawites, a ruling minority of Shia Muslims, thus the affinity with Iran, Hezbollah, Hamas. Forget that the family dictatorshit owns everything. Forget that the family dictatorshit shoots to kill unarmed demonstrators and funeral mourners. Forget that the family dictatorshit abducts and tortures civilians on a scale beyond our wildest dreams. Ask Mahar Arar. Forget that the Syrian family dictatorshit receives assistance in repression technology from the theological tyranny of Iran. Forget that the Syrian family dictatorshit tortures Canadians, and Iran rapes, tortures and murders Canadians.

Forget it all, and stand tall with those progressive dupes supporting the idiocy of a so-called apartheid of Israel, while all around Israel, hundreds and hundreds of millions suffered unspeakable apartheid repression by their own dictators, and the so-called Arab Spring testifies to the truth coming from the mouths of millions: We Want Freedom. Not freedom from Israel, but freedom from Arab dictatorshit. That’s the people speaking. Are the useful idiots of the Israeli Apartheiders listening?

BUYING CIGARETTES FOR THE DOG

2011-05-03T18:47:00.000-07:00

BUYING CIGARETTES FOR THE DOG

Charge Him With Incitement to Murder, incited Ben Burd

2011-04-21T09:36:00.000-07:00

On April 4, (http://burdreport.ca/?p=1680) Ben Burd wrote: “When UN workers are slaughtered by Muslems offended by a video that shows a redneck preacher in the USA burning a Koran who do we blame? The preacher – Terry Jones – has said the deaths are not his fault, blithely skimming over the fact that if he hadn't burnt the book nobody would have died, has not even faced the suggestion that he committed a crime – inciting murder. Why is that? Are the authorities in the USA afraid to talk about it. Where is the International Criminal Court, which has a cross-border jurisdiction on this?”

Terry Jones “committed a crime – inciting murder,” declared Mr Burd. It reminded me of those old westerns in which the lynch leader shouts to the mob, ‘When we get him, we’ll give him a fair trial, then we’ll hang him.’ It’s a forgone conclusion. It appears that Mr Burd has no respect for the fundamental tenet of justice that presumes innocence until found guilty.

Terry Jones incited “murder” declared Mr Burd. There was no incitement in the pastor’s mock trial of the “hate-filled holy book”, as renown comedian Bill Maher described it (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGUB5TZD29M), nor during its subsequent burning. There was no incitement except in Mr Burd’s mind, which permits him to publish an accusation of criminality against an individual without a shred of evidence of such criminality.

Incitement to violence? Recall that another great comedian, George Carlin, in an interview said, “You see I’m talkin’ about entertainment and I really mean that. I think it’s funny and fun and I love watching it. When they said the Gulf war was going to be on tv I didn’t know it was going to be all graphs. I thought we were going to see some stuff. Graphs and maps and shit, noooo, get in there, show me some stuff. I can’t wait until the Middle East really explodes – ancient hatreds and modern weapons, my kinda show man, my kinda show.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABxIJ8ONGeQ

The act of burning a book, held to be sacred or otherwise, is insufficient to establish incitement to violence. If I declare that Mr Christ is not the son of god and a Christian beats me up, Mr Burd’s sense of justice would have me charged with incitement to violence.

For Mr Christ’s sake, incitement to violence cannot apply to a statement or image that prompts irrational reactions by others who hear or see it. If an author is to be blamed for the irrational actions of others who view his work, then free speech is dead because the subjective whims of anyone can trump free speech on every occasion. Mr Burd’s ‘reasoning’ would have Salman Rushdie charged with incitement to violence for having written The Satanic Verses.

Mr Burd’s ludicrous suggestion that the International Criminal Court has jurisdiction on this incident has absolutely no merit whatsoever. If it did have jurisdiction, it would go after the real inciters.

On March 20, Terry Jones made a video of a mock trial of a ‘sacred’ book, pronounced it guilty, then burned it. The MSM didn’t bother to make an appearance, so Terry Jones uploaded it to the net. There it lay, day after day after day after day, alongside countless other videos of other individuals burning Korans.

A well-coordinated propaganda conference four days later was described by National Post’s Terry Glavin: “On March 24, the Iranian foreign ministry, Iran’s Lebanese proxy Hezbollah, and Karzai’s office issued simultaneous alarms about Jones’ Koran-burning. Iranian foreign ministry spokesman Ramin Mehman-Parast said the incident was part of American “hegemonic plots.” Karzai called for Jones’ arrest and prosecution.”

Karzai’s statement was widely reported in Iran’s government-controlled press but got limited play even in the Afghan news media. Then the Netherlands-based BNO News got involved. After making its mark in 2007 when it sold Reuters a videotaped speech by Osama Bin Laden, BNO went on to become a popular Twitter feed and is now a low budget social-media hybrid, part press-release clearinghouse and part amateur-journalism vector. When BNO began circulating a report headlined “Afghanistan, Iran condemn Koran burning in U.S.,” the story went viral.”

Terry Glavin's full piece can be read here in his article for DISSENT. http://dissentmagazine.org/online.php?id=467

Ehsanullah Ehsan, teacher and principal at the Afghan-Canadian Community Centre in Kandahar, Afghanistan wrote of her near death experience in the Toronto Star; http://www.thestar.com/opinion/editorialopinion/article/968978--i-can-tell-you-that-we-are-bleeding-in-our-hearts.

She wrote, “The opportunists who committed the murders in Mazar-i-Sharif do not represent the wider public of Afghanistan. The American pastor Terry Jones burned one copy of the Qur’an, but the perpetrators of violence who claim to be the defenders of the Qur’an have burned tens of copies and hundreds of Qur’anic verses here in Kandahar during their three days of violent demonstrations, looting and burning.”

Concerning the inciter Karzai, she had this to say, “As long as the Karzai administration and the Afghanistan upper and lower houses are a network of notorious warlords, tribal lords and drug lords, the people of Afghanistan will continue to express their grievances by any means available to them. They will attack, hijack and loot, and all the extremists, including the far-right Iranian regime and the far-right Afghan Sunnis and the Pakistan ISI, will continue to take advantage of us.”

Finally, another voice of common sense in this matter is Christopher Hitchens, writing in Slate http://www.slate.com/id/2290306/ “). “Unlike some provincial mullahs, Karzai also knows perfectly well that the U.S. government is constitutionally prohibited from policing religious speech among its citizens. Yet, when faced with the doings of the aforementioned moronic cleric from Gainesville, he went out of his way to intensify mob feeling.”

Westerners once again are being played as useful idiots, dupes. The entire “outrage” about the Danish cartoons was fabricated from beginning to end. The only true fact was that the newspaper published them. Everything after that was a set-up and the Western world swallowed it all and fell prostate to the platitudes of multiculturalism, sensitivity and tolerance. Gullibility prevailed. These are acts of extortion on Western ignorance and the price paid, is the gagging of free speech by human rights commissions no less.

Once again the islamists played the correct cards and useful idiots throughout the West, especially progressives aka regressives performed like little conformists to the message. Ben Burd was so fooled by his own extravagant ignorance that he stepped forward to make a public accusation of criminality against an innocent individual, but more than that, he betrayed Free Speech, just what the islamaniacs wanted. What a dupe! What a fool!

Cobourg Ecology Garden Earth Day Celebration

2011-04-21T08:06:00.000-07:00

FOR EARTH DAY, APRIL 22, 2011, DAWN

========================================

HOW DOES YOUR ECOLOGY GARDEN GROW?

Spring is nature’s Poetic Justice after the meltdown of the cold and brutal reign of the One-Colour Regime, popularly know as winter.

It’s on its melt that the natural diversity of the Cobourg Ecology Garden driven ‘through the green fuse’ will meet the warm seasons with the celebratory policy of multicolourfulism.

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,

-- Shakespeare

Sixteen years ago Cobourg Ecology Garden was nothing more than a great idea with a little ground in which to root. It was nourished with love, beginning with Minnie Pennell, Chair of the Environmental Advisory Committee, in cooperation with enthusiastic partners, Mayor Joan Chalovich and Cobourg Town Council, Engineering Dept, Community Services Dept. Department of Finance, and Dept of Parks and Recreation. Funding was received from the Federal Govt. Friends of the Environment (Canada Trust), Cobourg area Environmental Association, the Cobourg and District Horticultural Society.

Whew, what a bunch of bureaucratese! But that’s modern life. In human terms, Minnie Pennell met with a lot of thoughtful people in the community who were convinced by her great green gospel to facilitate her vision; let there be green, and so it was done.

There were scouts and students, mothers and others of course. Yes, yes, tree huggers, green thumbs, econiks, some bearing children with pink precious lungs aching to breathe free.

Give me Breath, then give me Liberty!

The Cobourg Ecology Garden introduces itself at the entrance with a wooden sign bearing this organic message, “If ecology is the study of relationships between organisms and their environment, then an ecology garden is a garden that is sensitive to and inspired by these relationships.” That’s the scientific description, concise and elegant, highly unpoetic.

Spring is when shallow-soiled seeds the size of punctuation marks unfold themselves from question marks all curled into foetal poetential and burst above ground as full blown exclamation points shouting in colour.

Or.

Spring is when little nouns in the ground grow up to become a herd of verdant verbs, all soiled with the rich itch of life hibermating in seed pods, cocoons, female mammals and humans of mass creation. American poet e.e.cummings wrote, “spring omnipotent goddess Thou / dost stuff parks / Spring slattern of seasons.”

Cobourg Town Councillor and landscape architect, Miriam Mutton, who had been instrumental in the gardens initial design, wrote, “The main design aspect is to accommodate people and enable them to get closer and feel a part of the garden. [It] also uses exotics or non-native plants as a demonstration of how to combine plants in a healthy way for interest throughout the seasons.”

Ms Mutton is actually talking about the immigration of plant life (exotics) into the local mainstream community, an effort that often pays off in a brilliant display of multicolourfulism.

Minnie Pennell, chair of the organizing Committee, added that the garden is not only a place “to promote a natural environment, but also to demonstrate methods of organic farming.”

Organic, yes, organism to organasm in a single breakout season! Poet Edna St. Vincent Millay described it best, “It is not enough that yearly, down this hill / April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.” So who were the unacknowledged legislators who appropoetically aligned spring, poetry and Earth Day, and sang the Battle Hymn of the Poetic?

The first Earth Day celebration at the Garden had a turnout of 40 people and that was at dawn. In a handful of years interest in the garden deepened, and Earth Day now attracts over 150 people. Did I mention that this ceremony of secular spirit happens at dawn?

Cobourg Ecology Garden is located at the foot of Hibernia Street on the lakefront immediately south of Legion Village, a local transit stop. A sizable parking lot is available across the street. Every day, in every season, people use the boardwalk that skirts the full length of the garden.

Councillor Mutton, explaining the initial site choice, wrote that “what distinguishes this Ecology Garden is access and location...it is in a high traffic place, easy to visit, it is relatively small and compact and has good sight lines for safety.”

It wasn`t long before the garden was given national exposure in the Globe & Mail by garden columnist, Marjorie Harris, who asserted that “Public spaces reflect our values and define what kind of society we are”` She visited the garden on a summer afternoon, describing it as “bathed in golden light and filled with glorious scents.” She added that “It seemed the most enchanting place on earth.”

The Cobourg Ecology Garden is well positioned to midwife the grounds surrounding the west pier of the harbour. The area has become an exciting location for daily landings and takeoffs by squadrons of Canada Geese one moment, Mallards another. There is a wildness to the place that compels us to commune with our inner wild nature.

Cobourg Ecology Garden is an outpost for a lakefront feature that will be as treasured by the local community, as Toronto is of the evolution of the Leslie Street Spit. It is a commitment to a relationship between nature and culture in very close proximity to each other.

Over the years the garden has become a living classroom for students from all area schools. A number of workshops are held next to the garden each year, running the gamut from composting techniques to growing herbs to growing ornamental grasses. The fertility of the place is well grounded, and a gazebo is provided as a departure lounge for those wishing to enjoy a flight of fancy to the Imagine Nation.

Earth Day, Spring and Poetry are a natural ménage a trios of celebration of the continuity of life through seasonal cycles. The unrelenting oppression of The Cold has driven life deep underground where it hibermates, where the grass routes are planned, where ‘through the green fuse’ multicolourfulism bursts forth. Thus begins the Politics of Spring.

In spring there is an insurrection of grass and love. In spring the snow disperses like a mob of resentful rioters. In spring the sun leads a successful guerrilla movement or coup d'etat. All winter our flesh was ignorant of the sedition of sunlight. In fields there are wounds in the snow where grass bleeds green, where grass is an awakening eye.

No one ever votes spring into power. Is spring a totalitarian imperialist? Is spring a liberation move meant to infiltrate foreign agents, such as robins, blue-jays, children, to sabotage snowmobile trails and ski hills and encourage Green Power? Spring is a tolerant state because it permits equal opportunity to all colours. (Winter is a 1‑colour regime.) Perhaps we all love spring because it allows civil rights to the tulips, to the lilacs, to the exuberant blossoms all petalwide gluttoning sunshine and busy bees lathered in flower-frolic zzzzzZZzziinng in backyards across the imagine nation.

The sun is prosecutor and executioner of snow. The sun casts an unanimous verdict and ignores all appeals. April showers are the mourner's tears after winter has been hung from the gallows of warmth. Summer is the sun's gift of appeasement for the questionable use of coercive force to eliminate snow.

If a poet wore the premier of something, what might that something be? Would it be a nation of obedient poetry lovers? Would the national militia consist of a mighty militia of tulips armed with colour and sunshine? Would the national anthem be a long joyful sigh after love?

Would the Union of Pollen Producers go on strike demanding higher rates of sunlight and more elaborate fringe benefits, such as lighter showers and heavier dew? Would this cause a crisis across the imagine nation? Would the Creative Intelligence Anarchy report that the Insect Pollen Transportation Organization had been infiltrated by dissident outside agitators such as breezes?

Would the Federal Bureau of Inspiration be called in to conduct a thorough inspiration?

Would the constitution enshrine the Prime Policy of Poetry Proselytization and Proliferation? What would be the foreign policy? Would we accept only immigrants carrying passport dreams? Then, what about the refugees from Grief and defectors from Despair? Would we establish dipoematic relations with Pain, negotiate for a ceasefire and settle for shorter durations?

Will we pick and chose our enemies at the drop of a poem and come charging, singing the Battle Hymn of the Poetic?

SUPPORT DIVERSITY

2011-04-19T23:18:00.000-07:00

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Being a Poet is Wonderful

2011-04-07T17:51:00.000-07:00

Being a poet is wonderful
When I look at the sky
I never see cliches
When I look in your eyes
I never see stereotypes
Everywhere I look
I see originality
Being a poet is wonderful
Wish you were
here
I'll write you

WE WANT WIT

2011-04-05T11:20:00.000-07:00

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The Voice of the Imagine Nation

2011-04-05T07:59:00.001-07:00

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The Poemised Land

2011-04-04T17:58:00.001-07:00

COBOURG FEELS VERY VERY GOOD

2011-04-03T12:57:00.000-07:00

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Marking Turf for the Imagine Nation of the Peoples Republic of POETRY

2011-03-26T09:14:00.000-07:00

COMING SOON To a Garden Near You

2011-03-01T05:34:00.001-08:00

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Go For The Green

2011-03-01T05:30:00.000-08:00

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POETRY On Edge

2011-03-01T05:25:00.001-08:00

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Dead End Doggerel

2011-03-01T04:57:00.001-08:00

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Bank Your Snow

2011-02-28T12:25:00.000-08:00

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From the series, Marking Turf for the Imagine Nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry. 100% biodegradable food colouring.

Libya & UN Human Rights Council

2011-02-23T16:32:00.000-08:00

Flights of Fancy Free to the Imagine Nation

2011-02-18T19:48:00.000-08:00

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Which Kill More Birds, Oil Sands or Wind Turbines?

2011-02-12T15:42:00.000-08:00

Fallen Angels

2011-02-12T13:47:00.000-08:00

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Fingered Poetency

2011-02-12T13:40:00.000-08:00

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The Whiting On The Wall 2

2011-02-11T00:40:00.000-08:00

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The Whiting On The Wall 1

2011-02-11T00:38:00.000-08:00

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Unpoetected Text

2011-02-11T00:36:00.000-08:00

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Spoemtaneous Composition

2011-02-11T00:35:00.000-08:00

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POETRY Remembers Green

2011-02-11T00:33:00.000-08:00

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Poetry Is Poetency

2011-02-11T00:31:00.000-08:00

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Cobourg Canines Spell

2011-02-11T00:30:00.000-08:00

Enlightened Poetry

2011-02-11T00:26:00.000-08:00

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Engraved

2011-02-11T00:24:00.000-08:00

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P O E T N E R S H I P 2

2011-02-11T00:22:00.000-08:00

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P O E T N E R S H I P

2011-02-11T00:20:00.000-08:00

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P O E M O G R A F F I T I

2011-02-11T00:18:00.000-08:00

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Poem, poem on the range

2011-02-11T00:15:00.000-08:00

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Knee Deep in Poetry

2011-02-11T00:13:00.000-08:00

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DOGSPELL

2011-02-11T00:11:00.000-08:00

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Cobourg Canine Cognoscenti

2011-02-11T00:08:00.000-08:00

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Dead End Doggerel in Port Hope

2011-02-09T15:24:00.000-08:00

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Poetency Breaks the Flaw

2011-02-08T11:32:00.000-08:00

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The alchemists of the One-Colour Regime on Feb 7, provided the Creative Intelligence Anarchy with a limited-time offer of 90-proof 'packing' snow. A poet was observed applying the policy of Poetry Proliferation and Proselytization by a group of firefighters who had been attending a fire across the street earlier that day. When POETENCY was completed, the poet began documenting the ephemeral snow graffiti. Cobourg's finest arrived, and stoodby to enjoy the application of poetry in the wild.

Poetry, all too often, is found snuggled up against other lonely poetry on library shelves. Poetry is found also in backroom bars or dainty tea salons. Poetry is invariably displayed on paper. Hardly ever is poetry found behaving like a verb in the public domain.

Please note that no formal environmental impact study had been conducted by any element of the Imagine Nation of the Peoples republic of Poetry. The materials were 100 percent organic and were delivered on site by the natural disorder of precipitation. The material consists of compressed crystals made of the finest blend of hydrogen and oxygen. Always there is an expiry date -- Best Before Spring.

Marking Turf for the Imagine Nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry

2011-02-06T13:24:00.000-08:00

Snow Graffiti: Poet Tree

2011-01-21T09:15:00.000-08:00

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Marking turf in Victoria Park for the State of Mind of the Imagine Nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry

Traces of Imagination Found In Victoria Park

2011-01-17T11:43:00.000-08:00

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Snow Graffiti: Marking Turf for the Imagine Nation

2011-01-15T15:53:00.000-08:00

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The Ephemerality of Oppoetunity

2011-01-15T15:18:00.000-08:00

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HARRY FARFAN HAS PASSED THIS WAY

2011-01-11T13:56:00.000-08:00

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http://www.quinteartscouncil.org/Qac/QAC/arts/farfan.htm

The Structural Elegance of the Common Haiku

2011-01-07T19:59:00.000-08:00

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Perfectly Poetic Pizza Place

2011-01-06T12:42:00.000-08:00

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KIDS DECIVILIZE ON JAMES STREET

2010-12-20T08:55:00.000-08:00

SideRoads Magazine is a supplement to Northumberland News. Below is the story they recently published for their winter edition. Enjoy!

===========================
A great January whitemess stealthed over Cobourg at the speed of fog.

Things began getting flakey when children, bearing bellies of hot cereal, galloshed and gallumped, gimbled and gabbled, and jabberwalked to Central School on George Street.

It was as windless as the interior of a coffin. Each snowflake loitered in the air, rocking on molecular nanowaves. Moist warm helipads emerged from the mouths of children as flakes floated like ghostly punctuation marks, commas, colons, periods. The game was to lick out of airy nothing, the few fat flakes that would impact on the tongue like an exclamation point! Drunken trails in the snow along the streets followed their vocational pursuit of devouring weather in a single gulp.

There was the fascination of a bare naked hand, palm-up being held out for the white stuff; watching three flakes clinging to each other as they hand-landed and dissolved into a flat teardrop. One after another, singly and in small groups, the flakes hand-landed and instantly morphed into tears, draining down the length of a life line and dripping onto its fallen brethren at ground level. Faces full of smile and roseblush dripped with the debris of martyred flakes.

It was magic and guilt-free. Once upon a moment it was a flake all intricate with organic symmetry, then poof, it’s a teardrop in hand. No flake has ever been known to wail out in agony or thrash about as it immigrated from one state of being to another state of being. They assimilated from white to clear without protest. It was the kind of thing that inspires children to trace their routes back to the poem age, which invariably leads to the Imagine Nation. (The Imagine Nation is compelling and exhilarating because it is lawless)

Life is so Normal Rockwell at times. The school bell (((RANG))). Scampering leads to elbowing through the clogging on the school doorsteps, the thresholds where wild spirits of imaginationism are “civilized”; then the anxious soft-shoe shuffle begins as children distribute themselves to their homeroom holding cells governed by cranky teachers venting in the blackboard bungle.

The flakey fog continued outside the windows. At the very moment when fidgeting was about to become a disturbance issue, the bell rang for regress. Children tumbled down the wide stairs, white water rapids, hootin’, hollerin’ gallumphin’ and bumphin’ through the doors and into a schoolyard filled with white-sized imagination.

Off in the far corner of the schoolyard there was a spot of turbulence. The cry echoed across the yard. “Fight!” “FIGHT!” “FIGHT!” Children hurried and scurried to bear witness, uploading the dramatic seen into their biocomputers.

The bell (((RANG))).

Regress is over.

“I’ll see you on James Street after lunch, you dipschtick!”

“That’ll be your last date dorkhead.”

The exhaustless children returned to their holding cells to endure the remnants of the morning agenda, becoming more and more civilized. Yawn. They bloated on the excessive government-approved lore of history and geography. As the lessons wore on, breakfast became, like, so hrs&hrs ago. Noon stretched over ten hungry ten excruciating ten unbearable moments away. The bell (((RANG))). Children fled the building carelessly cocooned in muffler, mitts and misaligned buttoning of winter jackets.

It was a lickety-split lunch. Many moms were blind-sided by the wolfing at the kitchen table. “What’s the rush?” “Chew your food.” “Why so fast?” Dash to door. Mad scramble. Golly Galosh. Tangle of coat, muffler, toque, mitts, mitts, where’s the mitts? Hibernating in jacket pockets. “Bye mom, gotta go!” SwOOsh, galumph glosh.

Grievzi, Fig, Whopper, Rupe, were ploughing down the middle of Chapel Street leaving drunken furrows in the snow. The usual route to Central School for the Chapel Streeters is Buck Street, but not today, not when there is an unmellow drama expected to go down on James Street. Dorkhead vs Dipschtick.

Heading up Division Street, the exuberant spawn of post-war celebration, finally took notice of the abundant debris dropping from The Perfect Stealth Storm. Packing snow! The generosity of the snow gods was total. Snowballs that packed in moments. Never mind the 23,738 words for snow that the Inuit have – packing well in five seconds is all and exclusive. Packing snow. Impacting snow. High calibre custom fits for every mittened hand

Turning onto James Street, the boys were stunned to see, not a fight, but chaos, utter chaos. Twenty children or so were lobbing snowballs back and forth across the street. That stretch of street was an ammo dump. In fact, ammunition continued to float from the sky.

The Chapel Boys crouched down behind a 1958 Plymouth because its excessive fins provided a shield for incoming snowballs. It didn’t matter who was on the other side of the street. It wasn’t personal. They were targets because they were there. They were targets because they were children. Yes. Restricted to twelve and under. The street was an adult-free zone. It was also civilization-free.

It wasn’t long before the street was swarming with winter warriors. Children flowing down George Street to return to school suddenly took a left turn onto James to join the fracas and frolic.

Thod Wooosh! The snowball hits the windshield, shattering itself into shrapnel that hits two. Thod, thod, thud, thod, thish thod. The Plymouth took a pounding. Fig was a lousy shot so he was assigned to built the stockpile that fed us sharpshooters. Thwack! “Got him” Thwack thwack thwosh, “Gotcha back!”

“There’s girls over there.” “Girls?” “And they’re throwing snowballs.” “But they’re girls!” The boys arm themselves each with three snowballs. CHARGE!!!! This is immediately followed by squeals, screams, screeches, and flailing arms softened with fluffy pink mitts. Took seconds to unload, then return to positions behind the Plymouth.

Snowballs were largely thrown willynelsony, every which way. Now and then a victory whoop went up when a rosey-cheeked face became intimate friends with a snowball. It was a special treat to hit someone on the back of the neck. The collateral pain came from the cold trickle down the spine.

The battle moved down James Street and onto the unblemished front lawn of Central School. It was a tossed salad of full frontal fun and frolic, wild abandonment of civilization, Lord of the Flies, meanwhile, the forces of civilization were uploading the scene from the window between the power grey pillars. Adults. Przt!

The bell (((RANG))).

The action stopped. Just like that. Scampering took hold, elbowing through the clogging on the school doorsteps, the thresholds where wild spirits of imaginationism are “civilized”; then the anxious soft-shoe shuffle begins …

What were once referred to as elementary school students were now relegated to waddling duck status. The warden of the school, and other back-up authorities, were picking out ducks from the incoming lines. Easy pickin’s. The culprits were a mess. The innocent largely neat and dry.

Twenty miscreants soaking in meltdown stood shloppy in the school foyer. They received a loud lesson supplemented with a passing reference to The Strap. This civilizing influence was seriously absorbed by the shloppy shloaking children whose jelly-bean tootsies marinated inside water-sogged boots.

A wet whispered voice from behind says, “Twenty of us, eight strap slaps each, the old fogie ain’t got it in him to swing his arm 160 times.”

And so it was. We were all left to marinate in the collateral damage of our frolic, and eventually grew up to become the best educated, most prosperous and free generation the world has ever know. Peace babe!

Wind, Waves & a Woman (Ode to the West Wind)

2010-12-18T12:03:00.000-08:00

Jill Battson reads Courage by Anne Sexton

2010-12-16T21:05:00.000-08:00

Cobourg Poet Laureate, Jill Battson, reads Courage, written by Anne Sexton, at the Inauguration of Cobourg Town Council in the Concert Hall of Victoria Hall, Cobourg, Ontario.

It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake
- - Anne Sexton

rest of poem here

FARE - FETCHED DUMPS ON PORT HOPE

2010-11-25T10:04:00.000-08:00

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Here it is folks, the moist steaming debris dumped outside the Coliseum on the Exhibition grounds whilst the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair was in full show.

Flights of Fancy Free to the Imagine Nation

2010-11-20T17:05:00.000-08:00

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Departure Lounge to the Imagine Nation

2010-11-19T14:28:00.000-08:00

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YOUR IMAGINE NATION OR YOUR LIFE

2010-11-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

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MY NEMESIS from METROLAND PUBLISHING

2010-10-21T10:52:00.000-07:00

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MULTICOLOURFULISM FALLS TO THE ONE COLOUR REGIME

2010-10-19T08:39:00.000-07:00

"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower."
--- Albert Camus

The Imagine Nation of the Peoples Republic of Poetry has received numerous reports from poets throughout the northern hemisphere who have been making out with their muses. Everywhere the poem is the same.

Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all,
Flowers in the summer
Fires in the fall!
--- Robert Louis Stevenson

The Organization of Oxygen Producing Services, Deciduous Division, has been putting on a dazzling display of unbridled multicolourfulism. Throughout Northumberland, sugardaddy maples dominate the catwalk hills with inflammatory, amatory, scarlet skirts.

Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.
--- William Blake

The scientific community provides the botanical boilerplate explanation for this deciduous decadence, "It is the outcome of sap deprivation." It is the ‘golden load’ that spices the blonde fields and lawns once freckled with spring petal debris.

Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
--- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The fields have been shaved of grain, trees unburdened of fruit. Nature greened excessive overtime plumping and juicing up our 100-mile diets. All this autumn extravagance disguises an ugly reality -- the massive layoff of leaves by oxygen producers. "A portion of the earth’s lung has collapsed," announced the Concerned Utopians for Sustainable Verdancy, renown to have a lengthy record of sounding alarms without an exclamation point.

There is silence: the dead leaves
Fall and rustle and are still;
Beats no flail upon the sheaves,
Comes no murmur from the mill
--- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Children fling their exuberant bodies into the crispy clutter of backyard piles; strolling lovers permit a moment of childhoodlum, kicking leaves gathered along gutters. There is no empathy for the sensitivities of the newly unemployed leaves.

They gather on sidewalks outside newspaper offices, yet no editor or columnist abandons their daily dance with mediacrity to acknowledge the unemployed masses being swept down the street in the shape of breezes and whirlwinds.

Cobourg has no tolerance for the diversity of leaves that have lost their sustenance. Everywhere they are mulched and bagged and shipped off to concentration composts without so much as a da svidanya as we head into the cold governance of the One-Colour Regime.

Only poets have the words to describe this mass ingratitude of fall freckles from last week’s resplendent redheads.

The warm sun is falling, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the Year
On the earth is her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Is lying.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And make her grave green with tear on tear.
--- Percy Bysshe Shelley

A STARTLING STORY OF STARLINGS

2010-10-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

SIDEROADS Magazine for Northumberland is an insert to Northumberland News. They recently published the story below. The magazine deleted the quotes of poetry from other poets, and also the READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED warning.

==================================

And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks…

--- Dylan Thomas, Fern Hill

It was dusk, 1957. They came in from the north, the sky black and blue with them. In great drifts of dark turbulence they settled among the trees along Chapel, Henry, and Walton Streets depositing their day’s dinner on sidewalks, lawns and verandas. Starlings. Thousands of starlings. Tens of thousands of starlings. Night after night. All summer long. Year in and year out.

Incredibly, a poet played a part in their introduction to North America. Shakespeare referenced the mimicking abilities of starlings in Henry IV, Part 1 wherein Hotspur desired to drive King Henry delirious with a trained starling. “The king forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer. But I will find him when he is asleep, and in his ear I'll holler 'Mortimer!' Nay I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak nothing but Mortimer, and give it to him to keep his anger still in motion”

The American Acclimatization Society in New York thought it a wonderful tribute to introduce North America with every bird mentioned in Shakespeare’s scripts. The Bard’s birds included more than 600 avian species. The hundred starlings released in 1890 are 200 million today. Moral: Poetic Licence should never be invoked by non-poets due to the danger of karmalized poetic injustice.

In 1957, neighbourhood children huddled around their black and whites to watch the debut of the picket fence serenity of Leave It To Beaver. Outside, the starlings were in full chatter. Inside, the residents were in full batter and bruised mode. As Sputnik 1 drifted across the heavens, no one knew that one of the most bizarre episodes in Cobourg’s history was about to unfold.

And from the realms
Of the shadowy elms
A tide-like darkness overwhelms

But the night is fair,
And everywhere
A warm, soft vapor fills the air,

And above, in the light
Of the star-lit night,
Swift birds of passage wing their flight
--- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Cobourg finally had it up to the ankles with birdboo. How bad was it? Early mornings saw town trucks hosing down the streets and sidewalks. Fire trucks were brought in occasionally to rinse/repeat/rinse the trees.

Residents of the day commented:

“You can’t look up with your mouth open.”

“People can’t sleep because they have to keep their windows shut.”

An elderly woman resident of Chapel Street said, “I would like to get up into the tree after them myself. They have wakened me up at 4:30am for the past 16 years. They fly off during the day but the terrible things come back in the evening. You can see by the sidewalk the mess they make. We have had to scrub it and scrub it. The odour is something terrific.”

Housewives, if they had to walk the street in the early evening, did so with open umbrellas.

THE TREES ALL SAG, STREETS TURN WHITE, read the headline.

“The starlings are back in town and Chapel Street near Walton and Henry resembles a white-washed fence. If there is one thing to be said about starlings, it is that they are well-talented in pursuit of painting the trees white. They are also heavy and noisy. There are trees sagging under their numbers, and the air rings with their twittering. Fortunately it rains frequently and the streets have a temporary return to asphalt blackness then water runs fast and grey in the gutters.”

Neighbourhood children, well, boys actually, exploited the mess of manure. After tv dinner, oven doors closed, screen doors slammed and Davey Crockett kids ran rocket, then slip, slide and surf the sidewalks glistening with the freshmess of yuckmuck. Heedless glee, cheers and chatter, as Fig did a bumburn, while Whopper ‘faced’ the consequence of a major oops! Laundry bills in the neighbourhood rose higher than the flight of a frightened herd of birds.

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

--- Robert Frost

Hurricane Hazel downed Chapel Street’s only chestnut tree the previous year, so a handy supply of brown nuts for bird bashing was no longer available. Marbles, especially bonkers, were too precious to squander on any bird. Sticks never make it through the branches to the teasing targets. But slapping slats made a slambam birdbang sharp as a .22 causing maple trees to explode in a flurry of wings, leaves and feces of fear.

Parents demanded a poop-free zone. Cobourg Council responded.

Councillor J. J. Fullerton, chair of the Health, Sanitation and Sewage Disposal Committee declared that starlings were “responsible for the spread of certain diseases of the skin and respiratory system… they attract parasitic insects, their dropping nurture germs. The clean-up of bird droppings on sidewalks around schools and public buildings is a definite menace to workmen.”

Councillor Fullerton presented Roost No More, a substance to be spread on trees that gave a “hot foot” to the birds coming in to roost. Picture it, roughly shaved men dressed in red plaid flannel Kenora formal wear sprinkling fairy dust onto the tip top of trees to scorch the tender tootsies of the demon starlings.

If the avian swarmers had been yellow Finches, little nuggets of sunshine flitting about, or red Cardinals, or orange Baltimore Orioles, or Scarlet Tanagers, or Red Wing Blackbirds, resident rage roaming the streets in lynch mob mode would remain an Alabama phenom. Birds of colour wouldn’t behave this way – only black birds full of white excrementality got the hot foot massage message. Pirouette on this, you %#$@&^% birds!

The local newspaper reassured the town that there was no “question of cruelty in ridding a community of birds with such a compound. The birds are not killed by the preparation they are merely encouraged to move.” Chemical warfare was on. Or was it?

Later that summer Councillor Jones nagged: “Have they had their hot foot?”

Councillor Fullerton: “The stuff’s here but we can’t go ahead until we take the tops off some of the trees.”

Jones: “Well if you wait long enough the birds will be gone.”

Fullerton: “Well then, we’ll do it in the spring.”

Jones: “Sure.”

Sure as shootin’ it didn`t happen. The starlings proliferated, causing one Chapel Street resident to lose it. He climbed to the gables of his house and fired his shotgun into the trees. The local paper reported no dead birds, no complaints made, no charges laid, things became normal. If you, dear reader, thought this wild west mess couldn’t get worse, read on.

We had fed the heart on fantasies

The heart’s grown brutal from the fare;

More substance in our enmities

Than in our love; O honey-bees,

Come build in the empty house of the stare

--- William Butler Yeats

(THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND HATRED. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.)

The Cobourg Sentinel Star, September 11, 1958, reported, “It was National ‘Hate Starlings’ Night … when angered residents armed with 12-guage shotguns” prowled “about the streets in the most heavily populated areas. For several hours the town reverberated to the noise of guns. It sounded like the Gunfight at the OK Corral was being rerun for the benefit of Cobourg.”

The report went on to describe that “children ran about excitedly in the waning light carrying bushel baskets into which they threw fallen birds.” Yes, it’s true. The paper did not report that the neighbourhood boys had been armed with firecrackers, especially ‘cannon crackers’ for shoving down the throats of wounded birds. The stuffed birds were thrown into the trees the moment the sizzling fuse reached the beak. It was Lord of the Flies as grenades of gore-gob detonated in a furious flurry of feathers hither and yon gone. Without pumping irony, the paper reported, “Police cruised about the area keeping things under control.”

The next morning, while town trucks washed the blood, feathers and gore from the sidewalks and street, Police Chief, Hod Pearse, announced that an estimated 1200 starlings had been massacred that warm autumn night. Later that week, nearby churches chirped:

“Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?”

--- Matthew 6:26

The birds returned to Ground Zero with a vengeance the following year. The battle was engaged. Town council easily approved $50 for ammo. Deputy Reeve Erskine described the congestion of so many starlings that they now roosted on verandas; “The mess was unbearable,” he said. The newspaper reported that “Mr Erskine’s expression indicated the state in which this particular veranda could be found.”

Town Council formed an ad hoc ‘Extermination Committee’ to formulate a lasting solution. This year the starling shoot was to be supplemented with sound effects; the agony of defeat and despair. Residents came out from all over town to witness the spectacle of sharp-shooters with instructions to wound a bird or two. For what you ask? Well, it gets worse.

(THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS VIOLENCE, TORTURE AND HATRED. READER DISCRETION IS WELL-ADVISED.)

It’s not easy to wound a starling. A bullet to the beak or body is instant death for such a small creature. So it took a couple dozen deaths before a wounded starling fell and flopped inappropriately on the ground. Recording equipment was rushed to the bird; a microphone was shoved to its beak as it wailed out in agony. Break a leg, break a wing, prolong the moment, get it on tape. Hurry before it dies.

The following week, summer simmernoons brought the cling clang of the ice cream truck. The Beav Boys and Eddie Hassle fled their homes with a dime in hand worth two scoops in the cone. At dusk a new truck appeared on the street to disrupt the usual shinny games. It was outfitted with three speakers. For the next two hours every weekday evening, (union rules) it roamed the neighbourhood streets blasting out the death cries.

The trees exploded with starlings bombarding the streets with birdboo. As it passed they settled back to roost. Over and over again it went. Children watched boring re-runs of Father Knows Best, looking forward to the next gunfight outside.

So luminous with living wings,
So musical with feathered joy . . .
Not for all pleasure fortune brings,
Would I such ecstasy destroy.
Robert Service

The slaughter became more problematic by 1961. Mayor Jack Heenan declared that “No one wants to dispose of the dead starlings because everyone is such a good shot.” The police chief upped the budget to $80 for ammo. Councillor R J Cooper preferred a shootout over loudspeakers because “It’s a little more severe and the starlings fall down dead.” By the thousands.

Councillor Thomas revealed just how desperate the situation had become, declaring, “The citizens say we can remove every tree if it will get rid of them.” The discussion turned to water proof loudspeakers and amplifier mounted in the trees at Chapel and College. The Public Utilities Commission came under fire for inexplicably removing the wires to the speakers.

Cobourg Councillor, Lenah Fisher’s debut appearance at council was an offer of free dinner at Marie Dressler House to the man who killed the most starlings. Not to be outdone, the pro-squawkbox councillors suggested the snuff tape be played over the radio station so residents could place their sets in the windows with the volume topped to torment the birds. I’M MAD AS HELL AND I’M NOT GOING TAKE IT ANY MORE!

So there it was, the summer of 61; Wally, Beav and the boys distracted by urgent turbulent hormones ignored the nightly howl of horror amid the occasional carnage of gunfire; seeking refuge on The Three Hills in Victoria Park the discussion was about emerging zits.

1962. What happened? Where were they? The tens of thousands of starlings? Few noticed their absence as they casually walked the streets in open toed shoes and sandals. The kids began twisting at the Pav and spawning to dawn under the simple stars over the parent-free wild West Beach.

Cobourg once again turned it’s super-dooper uber-sensitive attention to the perpetual whinefest concerning the use and abuse of Victoria Park.

Come, on wings of joy we'll fly
To where my bower hangs on high;
Come, and make thy calm retreat
Among green leaves and blossoms sweet.

--- William Blake

Reports trickled back to Cobourg that the starlings had chosen to roost in a New England sea-side community where they starred in a 1963 Alfred Hitchcock documentary drearily titled, The Birds.

Cobourg Candidates Don't Leave Home Without It

2010-10-10T13:47:00.000-07:00

MORE TO COME:

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Brought to You by James & Bond

2010-09-29T17:57:00.000-07:00

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Art Proposal for D'arcy Street Roundabout

2010-09-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

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The Child is father of the man

2010-09-27T14:02:00.000-07:00

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AUTUMN FRECKLES

2010-09-25T09:18:00.000-07:00

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After Habitat For Humanity, grease spilled on the lawn

2010-09-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

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King of Cobourg?????

2010-09-19T14:29:00.000-07:00

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Raheel Raza extols FREEDOM to the UN

2010-09-17T15:27:00.000-07:00

Famous human rights activist, Board member of the Muslim Canadian Congress and International Humanist and Ethical Union (IHEU) Representative Raheel Raza confronts Tariq Ramadan and the Pakistani Ambassador representing the Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC).Video recorded by IHEU representative David Cornut, United Nations meeting, September 16, 2010.The IHEU delegation at this meeting included Roy W. Brown, David Cornut, Raheel Raza, Xavier Cornut and Magali Prince.