A Tolerable Blog

Mohamed Elmasry is the head of Canadian Islamic Council is currently under fire for allegedly saying that any Israeli over 18 is a fair target for terrorists. He says his comments are misunderstood and apologized for the misunderstanding, but not for saying them.

Another Canadian Sheik Younus Kathrada compared Jews to swines and monkies and preached for the death to Jews. He later said that his comments were taken out of context- and declared in a written statement “We do not perceive the entire Jewish population as having these traits or qualities”. How magnanimous of him.

Isn’t Canada supposed to be the land of tolerance? Aren’t we supposed to be pillars of racial and cultural acceptance? I don’t mean to sound one sided here- but I can’t recall the last time that I read about a Rabbi, Cohen or representative of a Jewish Group declare that Muslims are swine, monkeys, dogs or any other beast – but I for one would certainly encourage them to take perhaps a long hard look at whether their anger and hatred is anything but a burden to themselves and us all.

Tolerance is one of those great words that is often misunderstood. A Common trait is people conflating tolerance and acceptance. If you tolerate something- you keep yourself from acting out spite for it. If you accept something- there’s a note that you encourage it.

A Muslim Interest Group will probably have a vested interest in the Palestinian position- I can see how they could conceivably feel indignant about how Israel treats them. The leaders then rally their followers to a point of umbrageous vitriol.

There are errors in that logic- Israeli does not equal Jewish. So calling for the murder of all Jews is unfounded and inexcusable racism. Using it as a rallying cry to whip your impressionable teens and young adults into a frenzied Jihad is not morally right.

Why do they do it? Well- It’s a theory put forth by Emile Durkheim. While Durkheim initially conceived it to relate specifically to deviants and marginalized- it many find to be pretty accurate for all interest groups. In order to create cohesion effectively in an interest group you have to have a unifying cause, specifically- persecution. If you’re persecuted- people will be passionate about that interest group. They will encourage others to attend. They will follow the preaching of the leader, study the text (Bible, Torah, Koran, Vedas or what have you) and give generously to the cause- not just monetarily (and I don’t want to insinuate that the motivation is greed), but also your attention, and your energy.

No one asking anyone else to accept a foreign culture- what we do require is tolerance for all our sakes. Tolerance is the first step towards acceptance- and you can make that leap on your own if you have made that choice.

Instead of preaching hatred- perhaps spiritual leaders would do well to preach acceptance. Our laws enforce tolerance; our spiritual guidance should encourage us to move towards acceptance, not the other way around.

That of course- would make people think for themselves, and when they do- they tend to make their own decisions. When a large group of people think for themselves, the group has minimal cohesion and tends to have a short life span.

Starbucks Pride

On my way to work I often stop at Starbucks- as I like to call them The Coffee Nazis! No coffee for you! NEXT!

The reason being- go in to your local Starbucks and ask for something simple; A medium coffee. They will fight you to the death insisting hat there is no Medium coffee- there’s the Venti size and then there’s the choice of Mild or Bold Coffee.

I remember the first time I went into a Starbucks and ordered a Medium Coffee.
“You mean Venti?”
No, Coffee, please.
What size
Medium.
Venti?
Not today- just the coffee.
What size?
Medium.
Venti?
Erm… Do you have coffee?
Yes. Would you like one?
Please.
What size?
Venti?
No thanks- just the coffee.
What size?
Medium.
Venti.
huh?
Venti?
What is Venti?
It’s the size.
So you have no Medium- you just call it Venti?
Yes.
Okay- can I please have a Me-- VENTI coffee?
Mild or Bold?
No thanks- just the coffee…

So today- feeling under the weather I stopped at a Starbucks on my way to work and ordered a Venti tea.
Black?
No- I’m jewish.
What would you like to order, Jew?
A tea.
What kind?
Erm- the kind you drink?


I think I got Earl Grey Tea.
A yes- another drink forever associated with a Star Trek Captain.
Just like coffee black with two sugars and of course- Blue kool-aid.

For some reason- whenever I drink tea when I’m sick- I immediately feel better.

So if this blog seems to be discombobulating- it’s simply my cold- and I don’t even have my beady-eyed sleepy friend in town to help nurse me back to health!

Pit and Bull Story

Michael Bryant, the Attorney General of Ontario is considering toying with legislation that will ban vicious and deadly breeds of animal that poses lethal danger to all who cross their paths. They are known to be psychotically violent and unpredictable; turning on those who brought these beasts into their home and into their hearts trusting best intentions.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about these beasts is that they are so completely relentless! They are famed for being unwaveringly tireless when they are set on destroying someone.

I’m talking specifically about lawyers and Jewish mothers!

These beasts have ruined countless lives and I applaud Michael Bryant for finally taking some initiative to rid society of this plagues. I must admit- first thing he has to define what falls into the category of the vicious breeds.

Some one who has their LLB, passed the Ontario bar and practices law; that would undoubtedly qualify.
Someone whose parents are both jewish, and is raising her children in a jewish household as well would qualify.

Here’s where it gets hazy
What about someone who doesn’t practice Law? How about someone with an LLB but didn’t pass the bar? What about someone who Converted? What about someone who isn’t raising their kids in a jewish household? What would Michael Bryant’s Approach be to those???

Here I have some suggestions on how to define who fall into the category of the vicious breed and thus applicable under the vicious breed ban legislation.

You have ever made Kugel
You have more than 2 law books
You have ever used the phrase “God Forbid…”
Or the phrase “Let’s settle this like adults- I’ll see you in court.”
You think that someone telling you “it’s none of your business” is a challenge.
You made up songs to help remember charter codes.
You have ever used the phrase “Don’t mind me- I’ll just xxxxxx like a dog.”

Using these as a guideline- you can probably track down easily who constitutes a lawyer and who constitutes a jewish mother.

I'll tell you a secret about Superman.

Doesn’t anybody ever know that the world's a subway- a subway!
(Superman’s Dead by Our Lady Peace)
You were a great Superman, Mr. Reeve. Thanks for the memories!




I’m currently reading one of those books that everyone seems to be reading and saying it’s the book of the year- I mean it’s everywhere!

Last year it was Life of Pi that the Hip Literati were perusing- Baha’i tigers on life rafts have made way for Harvard Professors, Secret Societies, and Albino Assassins; the Davinci Code.

So far- I’m gripped! I’ve heard that the ending is disappointing, but I’ll stick with it and love every moment of the book that seems written to make me absolutely crave the next chapter like I crave a little beady eyed friend who shall remain nameless…

It’s got me thinking about Secret Societies though. One of my sisters is a big believer that conspiracies are rampant! Another sister is a level headed skeptic who probably (and I say probably because I haven’t asked her, but I imagine about her) that she believes there just isn’t enough conclusive evidence to show that there IS a conspiracy and ergo, none can exist.

I would like to think that I believe somewhere in between. I know that people believe in conspiracies and secret societies because it’s what makes sense to them- it’s a matter of choice, of faith and of what you want to believe.

To some- the madness of the world just seems so overwhelming and they marvel at the power that some people have- it’s unimaginable just how they could get to that situation- so they fill in the blanks with conjecture about men in robes chanting in Latin and Esperanto.

To others- the belief that all the great decisions are made by a bunch of rich white men at Yale scares them to their very core- that the acceptance of such theories is too unattractive.

And to some- they speculate those secret societies are just beer drinking contests for over-grown eight year olds who would hand a scribbled sign outside their tree house door “NO GURLS!- Fraus Verbotten!”

I suppose the latter is one that I would believe the most in. We all have a place in the world that we want to protect and the way some protect their own place is by excluding others not like them. Is it right? I’m not one to judge that. People feel comfortable with those they somehow identify with- be it due to education, intellect, faith or heritage, or even something as general as hobby, political view or sex.

So- you can lock me out of your women’s only gyms; but know that yourself wide open to those conspiracy buffs who believe that you’re suppressing alternative fuels, staging moon landings, and killing off Kennedys and Princesses. Come to think of it- where was the Manager of the Dufferin Women’s only Goodlife when Christopher Reeve died yesterday?

Silly Friday Photos

IM Pei	I am Pi
I am Pi too	No you're PIE
IM STILL Pei	I am pay
I am Pie	Too much pie
Too much pay	Pie on Pay! (that's Bill Gates covered in pie)
Now THAT'S funny! Hahahaha!

HAPPY THANKS GIVING ALL!

Run On Sentence

Running.

I've been running for about 7 years now. There’s something definitely transcendent about it. Perhaps the rhythmic footfalls hypnotize me, perhaps the endorphins drug me, perhaps my swollen and tightening muscles cut off oxygen to my brain- but all I know is that when I’m running- I am on another plane of existence. I dream wildly and perspicuously. My logic is flawless- at least in my own mind- and my memory is absolute perfection as I can recall entire conversations to minute details.

And then of course there’s the adventures that happen on my runs.
I run at a time when most of the city seems to be asleep. The streets are empty- lights in residences are off and there is a peace and serenity- perhaps even a vulnerability to the city. More recently- My runs have been before sunrise- which contributes to the oneiric feeling of my runs.

A couple of interesting experiences recently-

A few weeks I was running through the rain and howling wind one morning- it was the tail of a hurricaine that decimated Florida a week before. In the darkness- I passed a lone old man who seemed to materialize from vapor- and as he passed me- He honked.
He said “Honk Honk!”
I didn’t want to be rude- so I answered back with out breaking stride: “Honk Honk!”

Yesterday I as I was running down Yonge Street- I decided to turn down Rosedale Valley Road- And then ran down the dimly lit path beside the empty street. The odd car whizzing by- but there was absolutely no one on foot anywhere. I was alone in the world and if I stopped running- I too would die and humanity would be but a distant memory.

As I whizzed down Rosedale Valley Road under the precipitous cliffs and bridges hanging high above me I practiced my German.

That’s the point: I don’t speak German. Well- I do speak my own brand of German- I just add “in” on the end of every 3rd word.

“Ve isht happyin for runnin unt runnin in die Mornin.”

Then I reached the end of the RVR. I happened across a path leading into the darkness. I start running down it. Running into the unknown- I’m blind, but I’m running so I’m safe. Nothing can touch me. I cannot feel pain. I have no fear and I quicken my pace as my eyes adjust from the hazy glow of the street lit boulevard to the absolute blackness of the abyss in this lonely park.

Up the winding path until I come to stairs.

I run up the wooden rickety stairs leaping up two at a time. The wooden structure moans with every hoof beat, but doesn’t sway. up uP UP! How far do the stairs lead? I don’t know- There are no lights. My eyes can barely see the steps in front of me. The staircase winds left, right, left again until I reach the top.

I am in the middle of a black park- I stop- I am panting. Fuck- I’m lost. There’s a wolf nearby. No- it’s just an extremely large dog- someone’s pet. I see the owner.

“Where am I?”
“Honk Honk!”

No - as it turns out- I was at the very Eastern Tip of Wellesley, so I took Wellesley down- through Cabbage town, through the Village to Yonge.
The sun started to break as I ran past my place and pressed the button on my watch to stop counting as I start walking and commence my cool down- I check how long my run was.

One hour- three seconds.
What a beautiful way to start a Thursday.