the blog quebecois

CBC:

Prime Minister Stephen Harper apologized Sunday for the 1914 Komagata Maru incident in which hundreds of Indians seeking a better life in Canada were turned away.

Harper was speaking to a crowd of about 8,000 people in Surrey, B.C., which has a large Indian community.

But as soon as he left the stage members of the Sikh community rushed to the podium denouncing the apology and said they wanted it made on the floor of the House of Commons.

"The apology was unacceptable," said Jaswinder Singh Toor, president of The Descendants of Komagatamaru Society.

If it makes you feel better, I have it on good authority that Harper doesn't really care for it either.

Penthouse's fabled fact-checkers take a long-overdue look at the readers' fantasy section, the Forum:

In the letter "Rent Payments," the letter writer described his landlady as having "the flawlessly tanned and toned body of a much younger woman" and "full, pouty lips that promised-and later delivered-satisfaction." The landlady, in fact, does not exist. Nor does the letter writer possess "an impressive love-tool that all the ladies crave." He did, however, totally make out with this one girl once and they were so going to do it, until his mom came home. Really.

Ezra Levant:

Some 900 days after I became the only person in the Western world charged with the “offence” of republishing the Danish cartoons of Muhammad, the government has finally acquitted me of illegal “discrimination.” Taxpayers are out more than $500,000 for an investigation that involved fifteen bureaucrats at the Alberta Human Rights Commission. The legal cost to me and the now-defunct Western Standard magazine is $100,000.

The case would have been thrown out long ago if I had been charged in a criminal court, instead of a human rights commission. That’s because accused criminals have the right to a speedy trial. Accused publishers at human rights commissions do not.

And if I had been a defendant in a civil court, the judge would now order the losing parties to pay my legal bills. Instead, the Edmonton Council of Muslim Communities won’t have to pay me a dime. Neither will Syed Soharwardy, the Calgary imam who abandoned his identical complaint against me this spring.

Both managed to hijack a secular government agency to prosecute their radical Islamic fatwa against me - the first blasphemy case in Canada in over 80 years. Their complaints were dismissed, but it is inaccurate to say that they lost: They got the government to rough me up for nearly three years, at no cost to them. The process I was put through was a punishment in itself - and a warning to any other journalists who would defy radical Islam.

Ezra needs to drag these thugs into a real court and have them explain why they don't owe him every penny he's had to put out, along with some hefty punitive damages. Until the complainants (and the spineless politicians who enable them) realize there are real and negative consequences for this type of abusive behavior, we'll just see more and more of it.

CTV:

Popular Maritime singer Rita MacNeil said she had no idea she was under RCMP surveillance during an investigation into the 1970s Canadian feminist movement.

In an interview with CTV Newsnet from her home in Big Pond, N.S., MacNeil called the investigation "a little bit silly."

Two historians recently uncovered files showing RCMP spies infiltrated the women's liberation movement in Canada. Investigators conducted undercover surveillance on marches and rallies, and compiled biographical sketches on some participants, including MacNeil.

I'm glad the RCMP was keeping an eye on these troublemakers.

Feminist music festivals were invariably grim and dour spectacles, as witness the photo above. And that was before the "music" started.

Worse, being largely bereft of talent, feminist musicians left to their own devices are at high risk of metastasizing into Raging Grannies (below), itinerant annoyances who show up at any given left-wing demo, performing unfunny, offkey parodies of folksongs wjth their quavery, little-old-lady voices. They do make a powerful (albeit unintended) argument for involuntary euthanasia, though.

Even before I clicked the link I knew where these pictures came from: The Style on The Downs competition at the Epsom Derby. First prize was a new Jeep; I'm guessing that these weren't among the finalists.

This cake is so disturbing, I'm almost glad the picture doesn't include the whole thing. The plastic clone babies wearing naught but mohawks is bad enough, but then they're also riding carrots. What do you do with that? It looks like some kind of perverted vegetable rodeo, or maybe a bizarre clone military exercise, what with their little plastic fists raised high in identical salutes.

And by "somewhat short" I mean that you'll laugh until you cry, though that's more of a tribute to the blog's writer and commenters, who have a wonderfully-droll style.

For more conventional notions of cake pulchritude, see here.

Via Random Thoughts

It was a bad crisis for the world. It required tough words but also a smart approach to call on the international community to step in. And I’m very, very happy that the Senator’s request for a ceasefire has been complied with by President Medvedev.

And lo, there was a conflict in Georgia, and the sound of it reached the Obamessiah’s ears, and he was not pleased.

And lo, the Obamessiah stretched forth his hand, and said unto Atlanta, "Let there be a cease-fire!"

And verily, the peoples of Atlanta replied unto the Obamessiah, "Wrong Georgia, pal."

And lo, after much um-ing, and er-ing, and uh-ing, the Obamessiah turned his face upon the correct Georgia, and called out unto it, "Let there be a cease-fire!"

And verily, it did come to pass, that a cease-fire was announced (though no one truly believed it to be so), and the Obamessiah saw it to be so on MSNBC, and he pronounced it good.

Let the Obamessiah bless the reading of these words until election day.

Commenter "Frozen Tex" at Hot Air

An interesting little simulation.I didn't have a lot of time to play with it, but I suspect your strategies can get quite involved. Click the picture or here to start.

Via A Welsh View

The Bulwer-Lytton bad writing award has been announced.

The winning entry:

"Theirs was a New York love, a checkered taxi ride burning rubber, and like the city their passion was open 24/7, steam rising from their bodies like slick streets exhaling warm, moist, white breath through manhole covers stamped 'Forged by DeLaney Bros., Piscataway, N.J."'

I prefer the postmodern flavor of this entry by Alex Hall of Colorado, in which the suspension of disbelief is stripped away, revealing not only an author manipulating his story, but an "author" who is himself imaginary. A fiction within a fiction, if you will.

"'Toads of glory, slugs of joy,' sang Groin the dwarf as he trotted jovially down the path before a great dragon ate him because the author knew that this story was a train wreck after he typed the first few words."

Shocking news from the music world: Citing "creative differences" and "general dishevelment and belligerence," the rock band The Police has parted ways with founder and vocalist/bassist Gordon (Sting) Sumner (bottom right).

I'm happy to report that he's on the rebound, though, landing a position with Huutajat (The Shouters), a Finnish men's choir.

I didn't know he was that short.

to fill my manly mug, Ma'am. (Large print on cup says, "Happy Wildness Men." Indeed.)

Via Engrish.com

A revolutionary new therapy has this wounded warrior practically crawling off the stretcher to get back into the fray.

Playing God is tougher than it looks, which is why no one's offering me the job, I guess. Before you conjure into being your first universe (which really sounds like a lot of work), you might want to try your hand at organizing a simple solar system. Try to not crash the planets, Zeus.
Click the picture or here to start.

Warning: Music and sound effects. You can turn them off with a button at the top right.

Toronto Star:

Chrétien warned Monday that Canada could end up paying a hefty toll for Harper's decision not to go to China, the world's second-largest and fastest-growing economy. Chrétien, who was known during his time in office for keeping strong ties with China, has said he wouldn't have thought twice about attending the opening ceremonies.

As a connoisseur of thuggery, Chrétien's beady little heart must have twitched at this news:

Two elderly Chinese women were ordered to spend one year in a labor camp after they applied to protest during the Beijing Olympics against being forced from their homes, a relative said Wednesday.

Pixifood (PIKZ-ee-food), noun: Any food substance that is highly pleasant to the taste as a child and tastes shockingly unpleasant once you become an adult.

Joe Posnanski:

OK, beyond the obvious vegetables question, I have another one: What do they mean AT LEAST six essential vitamins and minerals. Might there be more? Have those just not been discovered yet? Are scientist working in the SpaghettiO labs non-stop and occasionally shouting out, “WAIT, I found one! Oh, no, sorry, that was some lint from my pocket. Damn. False alarm.” Or does it depend on what you consider to be essential? Like do these have Calcite in them, but many Moms don’t feel that’s essential?

Roseanne, I don’t think you’re very bright at all.

Dan O'Brien puts on the hip boots and wades manfully into the wreck otherwise known as "Roseanne [sic] World" to review the blog therein. Somebody had to do it, I guess.

His report here. Or you can cut directly to the chase.

Warning: Language at both links; however, the first at least has comedic value. The second is, I think, an attempt at sounding "edgy."

Iowahawk knocks one out of the Colosseum one of those Greek amphitheater thingies his misspent years of Classics Studies:

Speak to me, O Muse, of this resourceful man who strides so boldly upon the golden shrine at Invescos,
Between Ionic plywood columns, to the kleig light altar. Fair Obamacles, favored of the gods, ascends to Olympus
Amidst lusty tributes and the strumming lyres of Media; Their mounted skyboxes echo with the singing of his name
While Olbermos and Mattheus in their greasy togas wrassle
For first honor of basking in their hero's reflected glory.
Who is this man, so bronzed in countenance, So skilled of TelePrompter, clean and articulate whose ears like a stately urn's protrude?

So now, daughter of Zeus, tell us his story. And just the Cliff Notes if you don't mind, We don't have all day.