Québec And Canada Nonsense Du Jour, Professions, And Other Assorted Whingery

Shortly before I began writing this entry, Croatia defeated mighty Russia in penalty shots in the World Cup. Vladimir must not be happy with his team, who would be well advised to purchase Siberia-appropriate clothing with a reputation for lasting a quarter of a century. In a way, I am kind of sad Russia lost, since it would have been nice to see a rematch of the Crimean War on Tuesday, given that the the winner of this afternoon's Croatia-Russia match would have taken on the victorious Three Lions, who had just defeated the mighty Swedes, right after defeating the even more almighty Brazil.

I say "shortly before I began writing this entry" because this entry looks to be a long one. Among others, I want to rip into a fresh Québec Darwin Award Winner, Québec nonsense du jour regarding a play, and Canadian nonsense du jour--well, of some weeks ago, so not really du jour--involving Macleans, Jordan Peterson and Scott Gilmore, the middle element of which will involve an aside on how professions reallywork today. The finally tuned engine of whingery that I am is wound up, and I can almost guaranteethat anyoneand everyone who reads this will be offended in one way or another, so this would be a good time to make sure you have that fainting couch behind you to catch your falling ass.

The Québec Darwin Award winner is this dumbass of a father whose day job was being a Firefighter, who got himself killed trying to climb a mountain. This irresponsible son of a bitch was in his fifties, with two daughters. Was it irresponsible of him to be a Firefighter and have children? No. Firefighters, like soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines and police, provide an essential service at a great risk to themselves. LODD (Line Of Duty Deaths) is known to happen in these metiers. It is always tragic when it does and I have nothing but respect for those who lose their lives in the line of duty. I have ZEROrespect for dumbass parentswho engage in unnecessaryhigh-risk behaviour, opening up their kids to chance of orphanhood. This dumbass, to my mind, is worse than whoever came up with the current policy on the Southern US border. Those much- talked-about kids, at least, have the possibilityof one day again seeing their parents. Not so the daughters of this dumbass who voluntarily made himself into a deadbeat dad. I assume Québec Firefighters have something like the NYPD's 3/4's pension system, and I am pretty sure that their version thereof does notpay out for off-the-job shenanigans.

One thing that gets to me about this particular dumbass is that he is symptomatic of the generation of younger parents who want to have their cake and eat it too. Unlike philately, mountain climbing is not exactly a low-cost pastime, meaning that it takes money away from things like the kids' college fund. What is more, what the fuck is it with all these fucking parents who think parenting is just another job entitling them to gawdamned vacations? The song below describes what parenting was all about back in the day.

Now, contrast the parent described in the song above with the dumbass who got himself a Darwin Award on a mountain. Is it any wonder why so many kids today have fucked up priorities? Look at the fucked up examples they have for parents.

Second turd on my shit parade also has to do with Québec. Montréal, the only city of any repute and of any worth in the Province, has this annual jazz festival. Long story short, a Québec playwright wrote a play/"spoken word" piece about slavery, the usual suspects got all riled up, and the festival cancelled the performances.

Anyone who regularly reads this space knows that I am the last person to say anything nice about Québec in general, and Québec culture in particular. I did not see the play/"spoken word" thing-a-dingey. The only live performances I can be arsed to go out and pay for to see run along the lines of Shakespeare, Bizet, The Glenn Miller Orchestra, Rockkbitch, and the type of "performance art" that involves poles, several meaty bouncers between the performers and the audience, as well as several meaty bouncers in the back rooms to prevent the occurrence of any "privates," lest the local vice squad take an uncomfortably peculiar interest in the joint. The controversial play in question was about non-consensual slavery. The only slavery I have any interest in viewing is consensualslavery, the kind that involves things like consent forms, release forms, and that is generally found over at Kink.com, Twisted Factory, Severe Society and Amy Hesketh's filims.

So, about this controversial play in question in particular, I do not care a damn. Given that it was shat out by a Gaspesian playwright, I am inclined to give even less of a damn. About the only pieces of Québec culture I have taken any liking too are the filims about Alys Robi (to be honest, this is because I was already a fan of the actress playing the eponymous role, Pascale Bussières, for her superb action sequences with Rachael Crawford in the thoroughly awesome action filim When Night Is Falling, which, although rather mom-and-pop compared to Natalie Krill and Erika Linder's scorching action sequences in Below Her Mouth, are still enough to get the blood pumping), and about André Mathieu. To be fair, I am also a big fan of Angèle Dubeau and Yannick Nézét-Séguin, but that is because they do real, normal people music, with real, normal people instruments, unlike Eric Lapointe, who, like a typical Gaspesian, thinks "Loadé comme un gun" constitutes "French."

So, to quote Canadian athlete, actor, singer and producer Dwayne Johnson from back when he was The Rock, I ordinarily "couldn't give two pieces of monkey crap" about any Gaspesian play being in the shit. The thing is, the usual suspects who rioted and protested against this play are no damned different from puritanical Estes Kefauver in the video below

If you do not like a particular performance, or other art form, just don't go see it! We are not in the damned USSR or North Korea where you have to clap until you collapse. Go find something you like and stop bothering everyone else. The legendary, one and only, Eli Cross said it best over a decade ago when he and Kylie Ireland were doing The Kylie Ireland Show Podcast over on the old MySpace and they were responding to an angry email displeased with Ms. Ireland's radio show of the time.

TURN THE FUCKING DIAL! GET OFF THE FUCKING STATION! I mean, what the fuck is this, the fucking Ludovico technique where they have your EYEBALLS taped open forcing you to look at hot Playboy models while monkeys jerk your cock off to a pathetic dribbly little orgasm? STOP LISTENING! If it's going to drive you this fucking nuts, just STOP LISTENING TO THE SHOW! Is that so hard to understand?

As I have said, the controversial Gaspesian play in question is about non-consensual slavery. This invariably brings out the Robert Mugabe types to howl and protest. Please note well here that, I most emphatically do NOT mean all Blacks/Africans when I say "Robert Mugabe" types. Decent Blacks/Africans like Walter Tull, the King's African Rifles and AMISOMhad and have far bigger things to worry about than some damned play/spoken word piece. No, when I say "Robert Mugabe" types, I mean the #SomeBlackLivesMatter (except of course for Chris Brown and Nate Parker, who that "movement" ignored completely) social justice jihadist types who, like social justice jihadist types everywhere, are master manipulators in creating a market for themselves and their tripe.

The playwright who shat out the Gaspesian slavery piece in question, you see, is not doing anything different than what the producers of 12 Years A Slave, The Book of Negroes. Hidden Figures and Black Panther did. He saw a market for his idea. In these days where streaming is putting a huge dent in the traditional TV and movie business, the entertainment sector is as risky as the restaurant sector. That is why you see more actors and actresses a-protestin' and a-protestin' instead of doing what they are actually qualified to do. Yes, he is a Gaspesian, but no one can blame the playwright who shat out the play/spoken word piece in question for trying to earn a living just like everyone else.

The play/spoken word piece was put on well before the jazz festival and is booked for other venues afterwards. Yet, one has to marvel at the complete ball-lessness of the Jazz Festival honchos who caved in to social justice jihadist pressure, pissed all over artistic freedom and pulled the plug on this piece in their venue. If you look up "pussy" in the dictionary, you will find, under the second (or third) definition, a picture of the head honcho of the Montréal Jazz Festival. Six years ago, you see, Québec social justice jihadist warlord Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois's band of thugs was rioting all over the damned Province. This will give you an idea of what life was like here in 2012.

Nadeau-Dubois' thugs also targeted the Montréal Formula 1 Grand Prix. Did then F1 honcho Bernie Ecclestone act like a little bitch and cave like the head honcho of the Montréal Jazz Festival?  No. Bernie, despite the fact that, unlike Sargon, Dick Coughlan and the rest of English YouTubes mopery, can speak nice, normal person English, grew up in hard circumstances not unlike those of Govan's Sir Alex Ferguson. He has balls. He did not listen to social justice jihadists. The 2012 Montréal Grand Prix went ahead despite the rioters, and it was a sweet bit of schadenfreude that Lewis Hamilton won and Romain Grosjean came in second, rubbing "God Save The Queen" and the REALFrench "La Marseillaise" into the noses of the overwhelmingly Gaspesian social justice jihadist rioters.

THATis leadership. THATis also why the Montréal Jazz Festival is a shit-show for pussies, while the Montréal Formula 1 Grand Prix is an event for people with character. On a related note, the differential between Bernie Ecclestone and Sir Alex Ferguson on the one hand and Marc Bergevin of the Habs on the other is reflected in the fact that Formula 1 and Man United are world-class outfits while the Habs, more focused on extraneous nonsense like ethnic origins than on material qualifications like competence, cannot even make the Stanley Cup finals.

This is not just a Québec thing. It extends to Canada as a whole. You see, there is this Canadian magazine called Macleans. Sometimes they have decent reporting, but, on the whole, Macleansaspires to be the Time or Newsweekof Canada, while usually ending up being the TMZ of Canada. As a print media outlet, Macleans is in no danger of ever being in the same class as The Financial Times, The Economist, The National Interest, Soldier of Fortune, or the late Al Goldstein's now-defunct Screw.

I came across a weeks old copy of Macleansthe other day. This copy had a column by Scott Gilmore whinging about how Canada has no identity, as well as an article on Jordan Peterson, both of which I am going to address.

Gilmore is this failed diplomat who scribbles for Macleans. Just as failed K-Streetpimps like Phil Mudd and Ana Novarro in America are guaranteed post-failure jobs by the entirely undiscriminating (taste-wise, not skin colour-wise) CNN, failed politicians and political pimps in Canada are guaranteed talking head slots on the media, be it Bernard Drainville on LCN, or be it Scott Gilmore in Macleans. In this column, Gilmore's main beef was that Canada is not a real country, that as someone who grew up in the sticks out West, he has "more in common" with people from Montana than he does with people from Atlantic Canada/The Maritimes. At this juncture, it is relevant to point out that Gilmore is one of those Canadians who only ever visited America, as opposed to those who livedin America as I did during my formative years. His view of America is superficial at best. Enter the term "New York" into the search function of the legendary, one and only, Fred Reed's blog, and two things become immediately apparent. First, Mr. Reed, and many other Americans, regards New York as being an alien planet, having nothing at all in common with West Virginia or Montana. Second, Fred Reed, just like Pat Buchanan, thinks that New York City (with, admittedly, the largest population, but comprising a mere fraction of the landmass, of the State as a whole) is the entirety of New York State, when Upstate New York is a rural, agrarian area patrolled by Forest Rangers,  where whites do most of the killing, and where there is a legally owned gun in almost every house. Upstate New York, in other words, has far more in common with Alabama than it does with the Five Boroughs...except of course that inbreeding is illegal in Upstate New York which, concomitantly, does not have a large Klan presence.

Gilmore thinks Canada is unique for not having a strong national identity. If he got his news from sources other than the Mansbridge network, he would know that 2018 America also does not have a strong, uniting national identity. But that would force him to think and be original, and we just can't have that, now can we?

Another thing Gilmore said is worth pointing out for the pure entertainment value. He says that the Royal Canadian Navy has been "allowed" to shrink to disastrously undermanned and under-shipped levels. Now, the RCN is engaging in Canada's most justified current military mission abroad, the anti-narcotics Operation CARRIBE. But, pace Gilmore, the RCN was NEVERa big league naval player. There is one of Gilmore's fellow hagiographer of all farts Canadian named Desmond Morton who likes to go on and on about how Canada had something like the third or fourth largest navy in 1945. What Morton and Gilmore never get around to saying is that, in the totality of the years 1939-1945, the RCN lost about 25 ships to enemy action, which is about the same number of ships lost by both the Imperial Japanese Navy and the US Navy in the 1942(i.e. looong before the war was over) Naval Battle of Guadalcanal alone.

So much for Gilmore. Onto Jordan Peterson. This issue of Macleanshad an article on Peterson and on some of his fanboys, one of which is a man with a law degree who coaches men how to approach women for a living. This is a superb segue into my topic of professions. Long story short, these are NOTlike what you see on TV, or what you read about in pieces that are either hagiographic or hate-giographic of PhD psychologist Peterson, both genre of pieces elevating Peterson to a standard far above what he actually is.

Let me take the legal profession--or, to be more accurate, the legal industry--first. What you see on Law&Order has as much to do with the real-life legal industry as does what you see in Star Wars. The prosecutors on Law&Order are all Batman in a business suit crusaders for justice. Real-life prosecutors are low-grade law school graduates who were not hired by Cromwell&Sullivan/Stikeman-Elliot/McCarthy-Tetrault to do lucrative mergers and acquisitions while living the martinis and fornication on a yacht lifestyle. They are biding their time in the purgatory that is the prosecutor's office until they catch a "red ball" that will get them the notice of Cromwell&Sullivan, their prosecution of said red ball being their second demo reel for Cromwell&Sullivan. Just look at Bernie de la Rionda's hysteric theatrics in closing arguments at the George Zimmerman trial, and you will see that this is de la Rionda's best Gilbert&Sullivan to try to get into the firm of the Sullivan attached to Cromwell.

Prosecutors, in other words, are among the least brilliant lawyers. The same can be said for judges, including supreme court judges, whose successful law school classmates are enjoying life golfing in Florida while they are stuck in hot robes in DC. Those law school students who suck so bad that they could not even become prosecutors become public defenders. Those law school students who suck so bad that even the public defender would not hire them do like the schmuck Peterson fanboy who has a law degree, but coaches men how to talk to women instead of putting in billable hours and being chauffeured around living the mergers&acquisitions/martinis&fornication lifestyle.

This brings me to Peterson himself. Peterson is a PhD psychologist. When you have a PhD in psychology, you can sit through the licensing exams and become a clinical psychologist. This allows you to move to Manhattan or Beverly Hills and charge thousands of dollars per hour to listen to filthy rich schmucks tell you about their neuroses while you go "Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" for about an hour or so, then say "I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today, let's make an appointment for next week." Stacks thus generated allows you regular access to top-shelf booze, premium blow and a yacht of your own. As I understand it, Peterson does have a clinical practice of his own. He is not very good at it, as evinced by a) the fact that he is still in Canada when the Manhattan and Beverly Hills markets for psychologists to tend to the ever-voracious needs of filthy rich with pretend problems are insatiable, and b) the fact that he cannot make a living off of clinical psychology alone, having to supplement his income as a perfessor.

a) and b) in the preceding sentence alone are enough to tell me that Jordan Peterson is like the prosecutor/public defender of his profession. He is not the best, far from it. In other words, he is essentially a failed psychologist who successfully reinvented himself as something else, like his law degree-holding fanboy who was so bad that he was rejected by even the public defender, which is why he coaches men on how to talk to women instead of doing mountains of blow off of all the mergers&acquisitions moolah that passable law school classmates of his are doing right now. Why anyone in their right mind would even listen to Peterson, much less elevate him to God-like status, is beyond me. Then again, I know what I know about the legal industry and the psychology profession because I read, as opposed to getting all my news and other info off of the Intar-Webs. I realise that I am almost gawd-damned unique in this regard in 2018. Would you believe that, in 2018, there are people who say "No! It's Atlanta!" when you tell them that Tbilisi is the capital of Georgia?

So, about what Peterson hawks and about the Macleansarticle on him. Peterson hawks the manhood thing to long-haired, unshaven schmucks who have little to no idea about anything and who are unsuccessful with women, and who, unsurprisingly, regard Peterson to be Divine Revelation. These are the same types of man-boys who are ever-so fascinated by the craptastic Matrixfilims. A REALman, the legendary, one and only, Eli Cross, had this to say about the Matrixfilims.

The Matrix films lost me the minute Kanoe-nu opened his mouth.

As for me, I always more of a fan of Ace Drummond, Thirty Seconds Over Tokyoand The Spirit of Saint Louis. THATis REALman stuff, all of it produced before Jordan Peterson was even a nasty thought up his pappy's drawers. The same can be said of many of Jimmy Stewart's and Randolph Scott's Westerns, and Jordan Peterson was but a wean when Lee Marvin was in The Dirty Dozen, The Killers and Point Blank and when Charlton Heston was in Major Dundee, Airport 1975, Skyjacked, Two-Minute Warning and Midway, and when Warren Oates and Ben Johnson were in the aforementioned Major Dundee, The Wild Bunch and Dillinger. More to the point, I read Rider Haggard, John Buchan (a FAAARbetter Canadian than Peterson will EVERbe), Zane Grey,Alistair Maclean, Sven Hasseland Wilbur Smith, all of who inculcated my love of history, which very readily illustrates the doings of real-life REALmen.

Peterson and I only have a couple of years between us. When we were weans, there were no perfessors larnin' us how to be men, or, at least, larnin' mehow to be a man. I looked around and picked it up all on my own. One of the things I picked up on was how to spot a suitcase pimp like Peterson a mile away. Then again, I was born eons before Al Gore invented the Intar-Webs, back when we had to do things for ourselves, back when, if we actually wanted to know something and were determined to find it out, we had to get off our sixes and get a book, back when grooming standards were a thing in a way they manifestly are not for the gaggle of Peterson fanboys pictured in the Macleansarticle about him and them. Whether this is a blessing or a curse for me remains a topic of legitimate discussion, but I will tell you this much. I do not have the need to piss away money attending Peterson events the way his social justice jihadist frenemies piss away money to go to cons/workshops themed around making the world safe from comics and video games.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. If so, two videos are worth...a lot of words. Here is a short clip that explains the mentality of my generation, something alien to Peterson and his fanboys. (a fuller clip appears underneath to give the complete context.)