ATTENTION: RED-BLOODED MALES

This woman wants you to vote for her:

http://storage.canoe.ca/v1/blogs-prod-photos/4/d/f/8/1/4df817b6e97426875c44ee2033b72db5.jpg?stmp=1332182249

And they wonder why I call them lunatics!
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

INSIDIOUS

They had flashbacks of him
At all hours of the day
They couldn't say a word
Who'd believe them anyway?

He fooled them into believing
He could be a gentleman
But he was an evil ogre
Something less than human

He skulked around the arena
A predator in search of prey
They brandished their wooden sticks
To keep the big monster at bay

While in a position of trust
He told them not to tell anyone
He misused his authority
As he molested them one by one

The abuse was very insidious
And it went unpunished for years
He humiliated them repeatedly
It was the sum of all their fears

The monster fled the continent
And he tried to start a new life
With those who didn't know his dark side
The cause of his internal strife

He was apprehended with delay
The dreadful trial lasted too long
They hesitated to punish him
Though his behavior was clearly wrong

The magistrate was at fault
And was one to condescend
The sentence was far too light
Justice failed them in the end

They carried emotional scars
Some were driven to drink
They were never really free of
The monster at the rink
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

Last edited by Starchild on Wed Jul 11, 2012 3:01 pm; edited 1 time in total

TATIANA AND RAOUL

Tatiana and Raoul were one
They were forever intertwined
They coexisted as two soulmates
Of the same character and mind

From the smokeless flame of fire
They evolved many years ago
To control the young and old
As they journeyed to and fro

They were demonic entities
Who travelled far and wide
And traipsed across the universe
They held their wrath inside

They were bound together
For time and all eternity
They captured the naive
And they mocked the divinity

There was malice in their souls
Poison dwelt in their entrails
They felt no pain nor pleasure
Their hearts were stronger than nails

They found hosts to possess
And wreaked havoc on the earth
No one was safe from them
They stalked babies after birth

They were sentient beings
Who exercised their free will
They tried to learn from humans
Before they sought to kill

At times they could be driven out
Exorcised by those of the cloth
And their disembodied spirits
Attracted darkness like a Goth

They sucked the life from men
As they fed off their energy
In an effort to thrive
To conquer all humanity

Tatiana and Raoul were joined
One morphed into the other
Then assimilated back again
Cursed sister to damned brother
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

THE LAST VAMPIRE

Sutherland was a town of artists. There were painters, sculptors, and musicians galore. The creative community was the lifeline of the burg. There were still plumbers, mechanics, and hairdressers in Sutherland, as with any other town. But their contribution to the local economy wasn't as significant as that of the artists.

There were also vampires in Sutherland. Not surprisingly, most of the vampires were artists. They could be highly competitive. The vampires competed with each other for mates, business, and blood. There was always a shortage of at least one of those commodities. This caused anger and bloodshed among the vampires. It was literally a survival of the fittest.

Brendan and Clare were two blonde vampires who lived in an apartment near the waterfront. Their loft was a spacious abode which overlooked the greenish blue waters of the Sutherland River. Like most normal vampires, they slept during the day and thrived at night. Most evenings they spent painting in the studio they constructed from their spare room.

Outside their home, Brendan co-owned a gallery with his childhood friend Colin, who was a seven-foot vampire with a long mane of jet-black hair. They exhibited and sold their paintings together at the gallery. It was a partnership that lasted for many years until Brendan discovered Colin was embezzling money from the company's general account. He used his withdrawals to finance a series of adulterous affairs and illegal betting operations. After Brendan learned of the treachery, he dissolved the partnership and sued Colin for hundreds of thousand of dollars. Brendan was awarded a large settlement which he spent on establishing his own gallery.

Brendan's gallery was slow to get off the ground. He worked long hours together with Clare to build up an inventory. They were the epitome of starving artists. Two years passed before they were able to turn a profit. Eventually they bought a Victorian bungalow and leased an old brick building across the street from it. They turned the old building into a studio and gallery.

On a mild day in autumn, Brendan decided to fly to Monteith to buy some art supplies. He needed specialty sable brushes, gels, and jesso for his unique portraits. These items were sadly lacking in the town of Sutherland, in spite of its large population of artists. He bought his ticket and waited for his boarding call at the Sutherland Regional terminal. After two hours, he was informed that the pilots and baggage handlers had gone on strike. Brendan asked the clerk at the ticket counter for a refund, but he was out of luck. He read the fine print on the back of his ticket and learned that the airline was not responsible for cancelled flights in the event of a labor dispute. Brendan was also advised to watch the SNN or to read the paper. He really should've known this was going to happen because it was all over the news for weeks.

This being the case, Brendan rented a black Mercedes and drove to Monteith instead. The trip was five hours in duration. He was lucky it was still nighttime when arrived at his destination. Vampires needed to avoid daylight at all costs. Otherwise they could incinerate.

Brendan remained in his hotel room for most of the day. He tried his best to stay away from sunshine, garlic, and silver. In the evening, he drove to the Art Factory where he bought his supplies at wholesale prices. Everything seemed to be going well until he ran into Colin in the warehouse. They had an unpleasant exchange that involved pushing, shoving, and numerous expletives. Colin had a bit of a physical advantage because he was a foot taller than Brendan. They had words about Clare, who also happened to be Colin's ex-fiancée. Then Brendan stormed out of the Factory and sped away in his rented Mercedes. He listened to the entire Nine Inch Nails catalogue on his way back to Sutherland.

Brendan checked the house and the studio. He found Clare burning the midnight oil. She was working furiously on a painting of the waterfront. Oil was her specialty. She found the medium easier to manipulate than acrylics or watercolors. She was the queen of the canvas. Over the years, she had won countless awards for her realistic vignettes of life in Sutherland. At one time, she was even nominated for the Andy Warhol Warrior and the Jackson Pollock Pollywog. Although she was the runner-up on both occasions, it was always nice to be nominated.

"Honey, I'm back," Brendan said.

"Is that all? You've been gone for two days."

"What do you want me to do-- talk in Latin like those cheesy vampires on TV? That shit always drives me crazy."

"What took you so long?"

"The airline went on strike. I had to drive to Monteith in a rental car."

"You should've called," said Clare. "I was worried about you."

"I did call, but the phone was disconnected or something."

"No, it wasn't. I was on the Internet. We only have one line. Remember?"

"We should probably get another one."

"That's what I've been saying for the past two months. The important thing is you're back."

"I ran into Colin at the Art Factory."

"How's he doing these days?"

"Still a jerk. Some things don't change."

"Did you guys talk about me?"

"Of course. He called you a bitch, I called him an asshole, and then he punched me in the face."

"No wonder you've got a shiner under your left eye."

"No worries. I'm immortal. It'll go away in a few hours."

"You want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Isn't that what you do best?"

"Considering the fact that I lost the Andy Warhol Warrior and the Jackson Pollock Pollywog, I guess so."

Brendan and Clare left the studio and went home. They retired to the waterbed in their master bedroom. She bared her fangs and sank her teeth into his neck. After the bite, she drank his blood, but didn't drain him completely. He undid her blouse and removed her bra. Then he kissed her breasts and sucked her nipples, which had become swollen with excitement. The bruise under his left eye soon disappeared. They made love half a dozen times that night and felt rejuvenated. Absence always made the heart grow fonder.

They slept throughout the day in separate gilt-edged oak caskets in their living room. Contrary to popular belief, vampires do sleep even though they are undead.

The vampires woke up in the evening and had "breakfast." It consisted of calf's blood procured from a local Hutterite farm. Although their accents were difficult to comprehend, the Hutterites were honest people who charged fair prices for their products. After the meal was over, Brendan and Clare painted for three hours in their studio.

"Colin says a lot of things he doesn't mean. He's just jealous of us," said Clare.

"He's always bragging about how tough he is," said Brendan. "He told the Vampire Artists League that if there was ever an earthquake or an apocalypse, then he would be the last vampire left on the earth."

"I doubt it. I think we'd all be dead."

"I don't think so. Earthquakes themselves can't kill us. Ditto for the Apocalypse. Only stakes, silver bullets, garlic, and direct sunlight can destroy our kind."

"So why should we worry about natural disasters or catastrophes?"

"I'm not worried about them. I'm just saying."

"I'm gonna go for drinks with Jackie," said Clare.

"Going for drinks? Not beer or wine, I hope."

"Of course not. We're just gonna drain some rats. Nothing spectacular."

"Okay, as long as you don't go out and pick a fight with Amy."

"Why would I pick a fight with your ex?"

"Because you hate her," said Brendan.

"I don't hate Amy," said Clare. "I'm not the least bit threatened by her. She'll never be prettier than me."

"Modesty was never your strong suit."

"Hey! Positive thoughts are good for your self-esteem. You won't get anywhere in this life if you're a doormat. People would will just walk all over you."

"This life? That's hilarious. Technically we're both dead."

"You know what I mean. I gotta go now. See ya later."

"I'm going out, too. I've got some errands to run. Have a good time."

"Right back atcha."

* * * * *

Jackie drove Clare in her red Ford hatchback to an alley in a neighborhood that everyone called the Gargoyle Village. They trapped a dozen rats and bled them with syringes. Then they decanted the syringes into a large Thermos bottle. They drove to a nearby park and found a playground. After they found a parking spot, they shared the blood between them while they sat on the swings. Each took a drink and passed it back to the other. When the blood was finished, they played on the swing set like a couple of kids, pumping their legs until they were as high as the crossbar.

Chronologically they were both a hundred years old, but they had been turned by their sire Gwynn when they were still in their early twenties. They were both five-foot-six, which was average for most women, vampires or not. Jackie was an independent, red-haired Irish girl. She had been Clare's best friend forever.

"So what's new?" asked Jackie.

"Brendan ran into Colin at the Art Factory," said Clare.

"What happened? Were there fireworks?"

"They got into a fight, mostly about me. Colin punched Brendan in the face."

"Wow! I wish I had two manly vamps fighting over me. I can't even get a date."

"That's because you're always moping around your loft on Friday nights. You need to get out more. Live a little. The world ain't gonna come to you."

"That's easier said than done. You're always busy with Brendan whenever I call you. And all my human friends have children. I would never go to a bar by myself. I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were. I just think you need to put yourself out there. Join a soccer team or take another drawing class."

"I'm tired," said Jackie. "I've been working a lot of long hours. I should probably take you home."

"Okay," said Clare. "I've just gotta fix my corset. The stupid straps keep sliding off my shoulders."

Clare pulled up her straps and followed Jackie back to the car. They listened to Brit pop while they careened down Main Street. On their way home, they passed the Sutherland Cemetery. They made a mental note to visit Gwynn's grave the next time they were in the neighborhood. Their sire had been killed ten years earlier by an angry vamp lover. She was a suspicious woman who staked him in the heart when she thought he was having an affair.

They arrived at Clare's house five minutes later. Sutherland was a small town. They could drive from one end to the other in two shakes of a lamb's tail. If they had to, then they could've walked through the town in half an hour. They said goodbye, and Jackie drove back to her apartment.

It was just before dawn. Clare found Brendan asleep in his casket. Then she retired to her own. They slept for eight hours and woke up in the middle of the afternoon. They kept their blinds drawn while they made breakfast and watched the news on SNN, which was the Sutherland News Network. The airline pilots and baggage handlers had finally reached a tentative deal. Too little, too late.

"I have to go to a VAL Meeting tonight at seven," said Brendan.

"What was that?" Clare asked.

She turned down the volume on the TV and sat next to him on their black polyester couch.

"The Vampire Artists League. We're meeting tonight at seven. I'm still the Treasurer, in case you've forgotten."

"No, I haven't forgotten. I just never think about VAL because it doesn't really do anything except solicit donations from corporations that are too blind to realize their money is being wasted."

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad."

"Yes, it is. The President just spends most of the money on lavish trips and his yacht."

"That's just one member. The others are honest people who are trying to make a difference."

"Oh yeah? Then name one. Is anyone actually helping the starving artists in this town?"

"Mike Garneau and Owen Kelly. They've been promoting our sculptors at the trade shows in Monteith."

"That's only two members. You're gonna have to do a lot better than that to convince me."

Brendan and Clare once again went into the studio to paint. Clare worked on her oil portraits as usual. Brendan decided to experiment with acrylics and mattes. They worked on their projects until dinner time. Then they drank pig's blood from the Hutterite farm before Brendan left for his VAL meeting at the Sutherland Community Hall.

* * * * *

The community hall was a log cabin that was situated across the street from the city council chambers. It was over a hundred years old, and the wood on the exterior was beginning to rot. Sutherland was a humid town that experienced generous amounts of rainfall. The League met in the multi-purpose room in the basement. It was cheaper than the over-priced meeting room upstairs. They sat on hard wooden benches while the President called the meeting to order.

"Here ye, here ye. I now call the Vampire Artists League to order," the President said.

"Immortal vampires, united in the name of the arts!" the members chanted.

"Honorable Secretary, what business have you to bring forth?" the President asked.

"We have only one item, sir," said the Secretary. "The Halloween Gala."

"Excuse me, Mr. President," said Brendan. "May I interrupt for a moment?"

"What is it, councillor? What say ye this fine autumn evening?"

"I have received a complaint about the League from a fellow member. She believes we aren't helping the starving artists in our community. She even suggested that we are spending the League's money on ourselves instead of the parties we are claiming to serve."

"Who is this woman? Do I know her?"

"I'm not at liberty to reveal her identity," said Brendan.

To Brendan's dismay, Colin was also seated in the multi-purpose room. He stood up to offer his own opinion on the matter. The two men always disagreed about everything. They never saw eye to eye even when they were partners.

"He's talking about his girlfriend Clare," said Colin. "She used to be my fiancée."

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the President. "What a tangled web we weave!"

"You're just jealous because you don't wanna see her happier with someone else," said Brendan.

"For your information, I don't need that dumb slut," said Colin. "I can have any woman I want."

"Whatever, dude," said Brendan. "I'm surprised they let you stay in this league after you stole money from our partnership. I'm also surprised you didn't go to jail."

"Shut up, you moron," said Colin. "You're the most unoriginal vampire artist on the planet. You stole all your best ideas from my portfolio. You're the real thief, not me."

Colin marched up to Brendan and punched him in the face again. Then Brendan kicked Colin in the groin. Colin doubled over in pain. He mumbled unintelligible insults at Brendan while he regained his bearings.

"Good Heavens!" shouted the President. "What's going on here?"

"It's a fight, your Excellency," said the Secretary.

Colin pulled Brendan into a half Nelson. Then Brendan stomped on Colin's ankles to free himself from Colin's death grip. Colin whacked Brendan in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. After that unexpected blow, Brendan grabbed Colin's long black ponytail and yanked his head backward. Colin looked like he was going to have whiplash for a few days.

The President decided he had seen enough. He was dangerously close to expelling both Brendan and Colin from the League indefinitely. As the two men beat the hell out of each other, the President reached for his pocket stake and held it high above his head.

"What the fuck!" exclaimed Colin.

"Don't do it!" shouted Brendan.

The President rushed toward the two men and launched the stake downward. He really didn't know what he was expecting to accomplish. There was too much chaos in the room, and no time to think. In one brief moment, he plunged the stake into Colin's heart. The giant vampire then tumbled to the floor.

"Why'd you stake me?" asked Colin. "Why not him?"

"I don't know," said the President. "I'm not sure who I was trying to get. I just wanted to break up the fight somehow. I'm sorry, Colin."

"Holy shit!" said Brendan. "I never wanted you to die, Colin. We used to be best friends in kindergarten. We had the same sire, too."

"Maybe it's karma," said Colin. "Clare is better off without me. Take care of her."

"I will. Don't worry about me. I'm gonna miss you, man."

Colin's head and torso dropped to the floor. Then his eyes closed, and he stopped breathing. He died quickly with his hands still clutching the stake that was lodged in his chest. The League buried him a week later in the Sutherland Cemetery next to his sire Chuck. Both Brendan and Clare attended the funeral and the wake that followed it.

At midnight on the following day, Brendan and Clare returned to the cemetery to place a dozen white lilies at Colin's grave. They were too emotionally agitated to do any painting or housework. It was very likely that they wouldn't get anything accomplished for weeks. Vampires weren't the cold-blooded, stoic creatures most people thought they were. They had feelings, too.

"I still can't believe he's dead," said Clare.

"Me neither," said Brendan. "He was my best friend for over a hundred years."

"Where do you think he ended up? Do vampires go to Heaven or Hell?"

"Who knows? I think he's probably in a better place now."

"He wasn't the last vampire, after all. He used to say that. Remember?"

"Yeah, he was a real piece of work. He could be funny, too."

It was then that the earth began to shake and the tombstones wobbled in their positions. The ground opened up and revealed dozens of caskets. The stone angels and marble mausoleums around them began to crumble and topple over. One thing was certain. Sutherland was having an earthquake.

"It's happening! We're having an earthquake!" exclaimed Brendan.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" shouted Clare.

"We need to get out of here before we fall into that hole."

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!"

Clare became hysterical. She screamed at the top of her lungs while Brendan tried to pull her out of the crumbling graveyard. Bits of marble and sandstone were flying through the air. A chunk of marble hit Brendan and left a pin-sized gash on his forehead. Then a huge boulder landed on top of Clare. Brendan tried to move the boulder, but it weighed over a hundred pounds.

"Hang on, I'm gonna roll it off you," said Brendan.

"I can't breathe," said Clare.

"Just think about the Warhol you're gonna win next year."

"I'm never gonna win that stupid thing."

"Keep thinking positive thoughts like you always do."

"Modesty was never my strong suit."

"I've almost got it. The tremors stopped, too."

"There's something stuck in my chest. I think it's a piece of marble."

Brendan took a deep breath and gave the boulder a massive push. It finally rolled off Clare's tiny frame. The rock landed in a giant crevice that had been created by the earthquake. Brendan's eyes were drawn to a foot-long branch from a poplar tree that was lodged in Clare's torso. The boulder had plunged it deep into her chest. It wouldn't have been a problem... if it hadn't broken her heart. Sadly, his valiant rescue effort had been in vain. He removed the branch, even though it was a futile gesture.

"Clare! Clare!" he exclaimed.

"It's too late. I'm going to be with Colin now."

"This is all my fault. It was my idea to come back here."

"You can't blame yourself, Brendan. It was my time to go."

"You didn't have to die. I should've protected you."

"I will always be with you in spirit, Brendan."

Brendan picked up Clare's fragile body and walked disconsolately out of the cemetery. He could still hear her breathing when he left the ruined grounds. As he made his way over to his parking stall, bloody tears streamed down his cheeks. After he reached his car, he stopped beside the trunk and leaned against his vehicle. He stared into her glazed blue eyes and told her that he loved her for the last time. Then she died in his arms.

Brendan was the last vampire.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGwdpSpQGH0
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

ENVIRONMENTAL ACCOUNTABILITY IN THE PETROLEUM INDUSTRY

There is no denying the economic importance of the petroleum industry in Canada. According to the Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers (CAPP), the oil business generated $115 billion in revenue in 2011. The industry employed 550,000 workers across the country and created $18 billion in taxes and royalties. Like the manufacturing sector, the oil industry is an integral part of the economy. It is difficult to imagine where Canada would be without it.

Be that as it may, the oil industry presents a significant ecological challenge. The crux of the problem is how to balance economic prosperity with maintaining the environment. As the County of Red Deer struggles to cope with a massive hydrocarbon leak that occurred on June 7, industry officials are rushing to contain the spill and all the negative publicity surrounding it. After the release into Jackson Creek of 470,000 litres of sour crude oil from a pipeline owned by Plains Midstream Canada, the Gleniffer Lake resort was closed and residents living immediately downstream from the incident were advised not to use water from the Red Deer River system.

Although the water supply in the city of Red Deer itself has not been affected, the spill has caused much anxiety in the communities of Sundre and Mountain View. Oilfield specialists continue to work around the clock to clean up the disaster. Plains Midstream has managed to contain the spill in the Gleniffer Reservoir. Their response has been rapid and well-coordinated, but many Albertans are still concerned about the pipeline. It was not the first such incident in this county.

For some Albertans, there was a strong feeling of déjà vu. In 2008, a similar pipeline break spilled 32,000 litres of oil within three kilometres of the affected area. The previous leak occurred after heavy rainfall and strong river currents bent the pipeline until it reached its breaking point. The resulting fatigue caused the release of 177 barrels of oil into the Red Deer River and Gleniffer Lake.

On April 29, 2011, a significant spill occurred to the northeast of the Peace River. The latter incident caused a leakage of 28,000 barrels of crude oil from yet another Plains Midstream pipeline. The company just recently finished cleaning up this earlier spill. There was no official statement about the cause of the leak, which occurred on the Lubicon Cree territory. The Alberta Energy and Utilities Board has identified stress corrosion as the major culprit behind spills similar to the Peace River incident.

Many social and political groups have become increasingly skeptical of the petroleum industry. Greenpeace is lobbying governments to halt the development of new pipelines until improvements are made to the existing infrastructure. At the same time, the Green Party of Canada is advocating for changes to be made to existing laws that regulate pipeline construction and safety.

The catastrophe at Jackson Creek was a wake-up call and a reminder that the oil industry needs stricter requirements for pipeline inspections and maintenance. More attention must be paid to the aging infrastructure of the pipeline network. In addition, the government needs to impose harsher penalties on oil companies for negligence and environmental contamination. Wildlife and water supplies have to be protected from oil and oil by-products. All of the major stakeholders involved in the petroleum industry have a duty to their citizens and to future generations to safeguard the environment. Until scientists can make it feasible for us to inhabit other worlds, this is the only planet we have.
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

This used to be my playground,
one of the few places in the world where I always felt safe:


My alma mater, the University of Alberta

MEMORY LANE

I took a walk down memory lane
But everything had changed
All the buildings seemed so different
The signs were rearranged

People were not as friendly
As the inhabitants from before
It was a much darker place
I didn't recognize it anymore

The air was grim and gloomy
The birds flew far away
I couldn't shake the feelings
That plagued me on that day

This place was a part of me
And I was a part of it
The memories returned to me
On every chair where I'd sit

Although it seemed so different
It was still the same old scene
That shaped me into who I am
And showed me what might have been

The sights and sounds were haunting
They caused a chill I couldn't ignore
This place would never leave me
It would remain for evermore

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGRNnnwOkxk
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

THE CREEPY CRAWLIES

Stephen looked out his window
On a long hot summer night
At the time of the Solstice
The great sun was burning bright

The crickets were chirping loudly
Like they had a story to tell
The toads were croaking playfully
Under the windchime carousel

Stephen's mum tucked him in
After she read him Dr. Seuss
It was a facetious tale
About a fox on the loose

She pulled the covers over him
And she shut his closet door
Then she drew the Venetian blinds
And picked his toys from the floor

After his mum had gone out
Stephen sucked on his little thumb
It was his nightly habit
He always hid it from his mum

Stephen later closed his eyes
And then he began to dream
But the monsters came to him
They advanced and made him scream

They were the creepy crawlies
Who journeyed into his bed
They latched onto his brown bear
They wanted his teddy dead

The creepy crawlies were ugly
They left oily black souvenirs
Stephen squirmed under their power
Because he was reduced to tears

Their slimy black bodies grew
And they grabbed his legs and arms
They slithered around his mouth
His screams were muffled alarms

The creepy crawlies invaded
But his mum couldn't hear him
His plight seemed hopeless and final
And no defence was near him

Then the door opened gently
Stephen's father had returned
He had flown back from London
Where the Olympic flame burned

The creepy crawlies slithered away
They became little specks of dust
Then Stephen went back to sleep again
As a rambunctious young lad must
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

THE DEMON DAUPHIN

His azure blue eyes gazed brightly
Above his perfect Roman nose
His steely resolve was echoed
In his lavish designer clothes

He broke hearts both far and wide
The power came from within
He possessed them brazenly
There was no stopping him

Although he was not without flaw
He held the world in his hands
With strength and determination
He journeyed to distant lands

Girls fell in love with the Dauphin
And they lost their self-control
Held captive by his charisma
Their feelings swallowed them whole

She tried to forget his existence
After he took her precious gift
Yet he still possessed and glamored her
Like a gale upon a spindrift

His presence was near permanent
He was a fixture in her life
He seduced her time and again
And then he returned to his wife

He was a beautiful demon
She always gave into him
He ushered away the darkness
Whenever her world grew dim

They lived as fallen angels
Vampires melting in the sun
It would never be over
They had only just begun

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8v_4O44sfjM
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

WHEN A CHILD DIES

When a child dies
It's like the closing of a door
The sun will rise
But never as it did before

The grief is abysmal
A gap beyond repair
An ache so eternal
A parent's worst nightmare

When a child dies
His folks try to be brave
They hear his cries
From far beyond the grave

The child who is lost
Will return to them never
Their hearts skip a beat
And are broken forever

When a child dies
The angels in heaven weep
A dark cloud lies
In the valley where they sleep

The playground is emptier
The toys lie ominously still
The mood is bleak and sombre
A void that money cannot fill

When a child dies
Lives are drastically changed
They forge new ties
As platitudes are exchanged

The future lies in ruins
It falls apart at the seams
The death of a child brings
An end to whimsical dreams

When a child dies
He assumes an immortal form
His whole clan tries
To weather the turbulent storm

Loss yields sorrow and despair
Tears in their eyes
The earth shifts off its axis
When a child dies
_________________
Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF VIOLENCE

The Lede

People have been killing each other since the beginning of time when Cain slew Abel. Man's inhumanity to man is anything but a new concept. Violence is a disconcerting, unavoidable aspect of the human race. The tragic events at the 1972 Munich Olympics, the massacre in Aurora, and the ongoing street violence in Toronto have deeply touched the lives of so many people around the world. They have underscored the need for enhanced firearm legislation and stronger security at public events.

Munich

This year marks the fortieth anniversary of the killing of eleven Israeli athletes and coaches by the Palestinian group Black September at the 1972 Olympics in Munich. At the time of the incident, many athletes in the Olympic Village were either unaware of or oblivious to the hostage-taking, and the Games continued. The kidnappers initially demanded the release and safe passage to Egypt of 234 Palestinian prisoners who were jailed in Israel along with 2 German radicals from the Red Army faction who were confined to nearby penitentiaries.

The German Olympic organizers had been trying their best to maintain an open, relaxed environment at the Games in an effort to overcome the image of the military-style 1936 Olympics in Berlin. There were reports that the local authorities had prior knowledge of the planned hostage-taking, but they failed to act on a tip from a Palestinian informant in Beirut. In the end, the perpetrators murdered five Israeli athletes, six Israeli coaches, and a German police officer. The terrorists were later hunted down and killed by an Israeli task force under the direction of the Israeli Prime Minister, Golda Meir. To this day, there has been no public acknowledgement or recognition of the Israeli victims by the International Olympic Committee (IOC).

The Munich massacre was the darkest moment in Olympic history. It changed the Games forever by making strict security an absolute requirement. Although friendly and focused on the spirit of athletic excellence, the Olympics would never be able to distance themselves from the political conflicts of their member nations. An iconic event such as the Munich incident needs to be remembered appropriately and in a timely manner. After all, the victims died as Olympians. The IOC should construct a physical memorial or monument in addition to observing a public moment of silence. The Committee owes it to the families of the deceased. It's the right thing to do. The longer the IOC procrastinates, the greater will be the damage to their reputation.

Aurora

James Holmes was a deranged, though highly educated man under psychiatric care. Regardless of his medical history, no one could have foreseen the extent of the damage Holmes would inflict upon dozens of moviegoers in Aurora, Colorado. His apartment was a minefield of weapons, ammunition, and booby traps.

Holmes's case poses a potential ethical dilemma as to whether a mental health professional should be held accountable for the actions of a client to whom he or she has administered treatment. In the state of Colorado, a psychiatrist cannot be held liable for an inability to predict a client's behavior unless it involves a serious threat to a specific person or group. A therapist is not required to notify the targeted individuals or law enforcement agencies until such a threat is made.

Prior to the shooting, Holmes maintained an active online presence at several social networking sites and attempted to gain membership in a gun club, which ultimately rejected him on the basis of his creepy voice mail greeting. There were many sinister warning signs. In a state which had previously suffered enormous grief as a result of the Columbine tragedy, actions should have been taken to restrict Holmes's access to firearms. It is surprising that none of his associates in the upper echelons of the University of Colorado were aware of his instability.

Industry watchdogs often blame Hollywood for inciting people such as James Holmes to commit atrocities. The entertainment industry has always been a whipping boy in the aftermath of violence. Filmmakers and musicians have been linked to murders and preventable deaths for decades. Prior to The Dark Knight Rises, the prime scapegoats were A Clockwork Orange, Kill Bill, and hard rock bands. However, it is erroneous to believe that films or modern music are the root causes of violence. Holmes, like many other domestic terrorists, was an unbalanced individual who acted of his own volition.

Toronto

The recent spate of gun violence in Toronto is a source of concern for most of its population. A gunman in Eaton Centre killed one and injured seven people on June 2. Jessica Redfield, an aspiring sports writer, managed to escape the Eaton Centre shooting but was unfortunately killed in the Aurora massacre a month later. On June 18, a man was murdered in Little Italy after being shot in the head. Another man was seriously injured in the incident. Both men were watching a Euro 2012 soccer match at a busy gelato shop. Canada Day celebrations were also marred when a man was shot near Ashbridges Bay less than an hour after the fireworks began in the Beaches district. Two weeks later, a community barbecue on Danzig Street ended in a shootout that killed two and injured twenty-four others. Shootings are reported every week -- sometimes several times a week-- in the local newspapers.

Many people have pointed to the Caribbean community in an effort to assign blame for the increasing gun violence in Toronto. Jamaicans in particular have been unfairly singled out by local and federal politicians. This has led to the cancellation of an urban music festival and the implementation of security checks at the Caribana Parade.

Although local officials have been lobbying for changes to the immigration policy and the deportation of foreign criminals, many of the shootings in Toronto have been committed by individuals of Anglo-Saxon or European ancestry. Exact numbers are unavailable because the collection of race-based crime statistics remains banned by the Toronto Police Board. Needless to say, politicians and the general public have to refrain from stereotyping their fellow citizens on the basis of the culture or counterculture to which they belong. Jamaicans do not kill people. Goths do not kill people. People kill people.

The Kicker

Aggressive behavior has always been a part of the human race and will continue to do so until the planet ceases to exist. The potential for violent crime sometimes causes people to become hermits, but existing in a bubble is no life at all. Citizens must never stay at home and live in fear. When they avoid theatres and festivals, then they let the terrorists win. They have to defy those deranged individuals by carrying out their lives as they did before. Doing this is half the battle. The other half is vigilance. Communities have to be alert to the early warning signs of violent behavior and report them to their authorities. Better security at public events is also a requirement. The final step is the enactment of stricter legislation for handgun ownership. Ordinary people, governments, and law enforcement agencies have to work together to build a safer society.
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Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

ROGER FEDERER'S DAY OFF

Swiss tennis player Roger Federer is the current men's champion as of July 2012. He is the all-time leader in career earnings and has won a total of 75 titles. Federer has also won gold and silver medals at the summer Olympics. Forbes ranked him at number 31 on their top 100 list of celebrities in May 2012. He has been called "the guy who changed tennis" by the former German tennis champion Boris Becker. Federer is married to the Mirta Vavrinec, who is a Slovakian member of the Women's Tennis Association.

Often referred to as the Federer Express or Fedex, Federer is a dangerous and unpredictable tennis player. His principal rivals are Rafael Nadal, Andy Roddick, and Andy Murray. Federer has a knack for surprising his opponents with his vast array of serves and strikes. At the present time, his forehand smash is the most powerful shot in the sport. He sometimes uses the "slice" to lure his opponents to the net before he finishes them off. Federer is also known for his between-the-legs shots and his quick footwork on the court. He is a dynamic player with a complete arsenal of interesting techniques.

After winning his seventh Wimbledon title this year, Federer competed in the Olympics and won the silver medal. There has been some speculation that Federer let Andy Murray win the gold medal because Federer felt bad about beating the Brit already at Wimbledon. Being the good sport that he is, it is highly possible that Federer didn't want to see Murray lose twice on his home turf.

Federer was scheduled to compete the week after the Olympics at the Canadian Open, but he cancelled at the last minute when he decided he would need time to recover from London. On his days off, he retreated to his chalet in the Swiss Alps where he went to regroup with his family. After he opted out of the Rogers Cup, he apologized to his Canadian fans and promised to return next year. In the following week, he was scheduled to compete again at the next ATP tournament in Cincinnati. His lifestyle is a never-ending series of tournaments and practices.

In addition to playing tennis and being a father to his two children, Federer also supports a number of charities. After his breakthrough in 2003, he established the Roger Federer Foundation to help disadvantaged children enter sports. He auctioned off his racquet from the US Open in 2005 to raise funds for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. He also arranged an exhibition tournament to assist countries affected by the tsunami in the Indian Ocean. The following year, he was appointed a Goodwill ambassador by UNICEF. In 2010, he organized an event called Hit for Haiti to raise funds for earthquake relief. Federer is an athlete who gives back to his community. He is leaving a enduring legacy for his sport and the world around him.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLRnmQ-4Yp0

Starchild is a veteran of racquet sports including tennis, table tennis, badminton, and racquetball. She has also played on 2 varsity soccer teams. If that weren't enough, she has 7 belts in the martial arts. She dated a Vancouver Canuck, but she won't say which one.
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Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

The best song of all time, dedicated to no one in particular:

KING OF THE HILL ~ by Tom Petty and Roger McGuinn

L.A.'s asleep, you roll up your window
The night air is cold, the freeway is clear
In a green Gucci bag are your prized possessions
The jewels of your mind to hold back the fear

And when Monday comes 'round,
There's a high lonesome sound
And she follows you down for the kill
And a white blinding light makes it all seem so right
And you feel like the King of the Hill

The driveway is long, your princess is lovely
Your servants all wait for your knock on the door
How many years will you crawl through this castle?
So satisfied and still wanting more

And when Monday comes 'round,
There's a high lonesome sound
And she follows you down for the kill
And a white blinding light makes it all seem so right
And you feel like the King of the Hill

The guests have arrived with all the right faces
But you miss the ball in that room down the hall
It's sunrise again, the driveway is empty
The crystal is cracked, there's blood on the wall

And when Monday comes 'round,
There's a high lonesome sound
And she follows you down for the kill
And a white blinding light makes it all seem so right
And you feel like the King of the Hill

And when Monday comes 'round,
There's a high lonesome sound
And she follows you down for the kill
And a white blinding light makes it all seem so right
And you feel like the King of the Hill

Yes, you feel like the King of the Hill
Ah, you feel like the King of the Hill
Yes, you feel like the King of the Hill

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wr_LtVkCe18


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Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

HORROR HILL

They lived below the poverty line
As they tried to eke out their existence
Hundreds of men, women and children
Who would later form their own resistance

The unions clashed with the managers
In a volatile state of mind
For enough pay to support themselves
And the ones they had left behind

The miners fought with the police
As they waved machetes and spears
The police fired back at them
It was the worst violence in years

The strikers brandished their weapons
The police wouldn't let the miners pass
The angry crowd charged the officers
Amid the rubber bullets and tear gas

Their demands were left unheeded
The greedy corporations were evil
And thirty-four miners lay dead
After the carnage on Horror Hill

The bloody catastrophe in Marikana
Had repercussions around the globe
It was discussed at length by politicians
And became the subject of a probe

Workers had formed a unified group
Demanding better working conditions
Ruthlessly killed before the ceasefire
By tyrants who ignored their petitions

Marikana remained in sober mourning
As the platinum mines lay still
And the survivors were left astonished
By the massacre on Horror Hill
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Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

NOTHING

Nothing is stronger than love
No wind, no rain, no hail
When it's sent from up above
True love will never fail

Though hate would threaten to split
This bond that people seem to share
This love will forever sit
In those dark shadows that lie there

Love can mend a bridge in due time
It can move a mountain by a mile
Love can bring forth kindness from crime
It can turn a frown into a smile

Strength is often measured by force
And wars are fought because of it
But love can be mighty of course
As long as we refuse to quit

Though disappointments wound the soul
We must find courage and endure
We will eventually reach our goal
And find a love that is so pure

Patience, time and faith are needed
For love to find its way back
And when these few words are heeded
We will be on the right track

How on earth the world will go on
Is what we often think of
But it will last well past the dawn
Nothing is stronger than love


HOLY HANNA!!!!!
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Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.

THE MATADOR

He reigned over his people
The master of his universe
The king of his dominion
He won every coveted purse

His hat was lined with satin
And his boots were as black as coal
His eyes were dark and charming
His voice was music to the soul

His red kerchief was tied
In a knot around his waist
Like an elite athlete
He had an expensive taste

He was impossibly handsome
His presence was electrifying
His curly brown hair framed his face
The women found him mystifying

The matador never lost
He ruled over the bull
His cape billowed behind him
Fine black and silver wool

He prepared for his battle
With zeal and confidence
He was a passionate man
Of strong will and persistence

The matador met his match
In a foe that was full grown
The bull was so enormous
He had a mind of his own

The bull was overtaking
The tall dark matador
A defeat so heartbreaking
It pierced him to the core

The angry beast rushed forward
He was a brute like none before
With long horns as sharp as knives
The bull impaled the matador

And as he lay dying
The stalwart black and silver knight
He lunged at the creature
He wouldn't go down without a fight


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Many years from now, future generations will be wondering why we were so ignorant and narrow minded.