just sayin'

For entirely shallow and silly reasons, I have moved the blog.

rhetorical question

Is it sad that I am actually pretty excited about moving to a smaller apartment because it means I will have less space to clean?

Also, suddenly DigsMagazine has become interesting. I'm a goddamn yuppie is what I am.

mini-derail

I crack myself up with bad visual puns.

So, my rare friends and click-throughs, there is a brouhaha over the impending move of the Acadian Lines inter-city coach terminal. It is currently in downtown Fredericton. It is moving to the back of beyond, a costly taxi ride from downtown Fredericton. I have not studied the reasons for this, because I don't really care, because I am leaving. It sucks, but it is a done deal. However, some of the language used to justify the decision looks awfully familiar:

If it costs more, it costs more. People will need to learn to budget for the additional expense. Sure some people aren’t in a position to do that, but I’m sure most spend money on crap they don’t need. How much are people wasting at Tims everyday, smokes, etc…?

A cab ride to/from Woodside Ln is pennies compared to a single coffee every day.

I have been schooled. I don't smoke and I rarely buy coffee out, but I do spend money for pleasure. Sometimes I have a couple of beers with a friend. Sometimes I go to the movies! Sometimes I even buy a bottle of wine or a tube of lipstick. And those coffee beans I grind up every morning, those aren't free. Silly, profligate me, thinking I could have nice things even though I don't have a car.

Do people who complain about high taxes or high gas prices get these kinds of unsolicited lectures, or is this just a special present for people who are (or are assumed to be) poor?

Lamespotting, I think, is a smidge off on this point:

One thing that really disappointed me was how the opposition conducted themselves. They were continually interrupting speeches and yelling during the actual reading of the by-law....In fact, they may have doomed their cause as many people who are against the move will not want to be associated with that crowd.

This is known as a "tone argument" and I don't think it's valid. People who are directly affected by the move aren't going to suddenly decide inconvenience and expense are awesome because someone else protested obnoxiously. People who aren't affected probably either don't care about the move or have principled stances on the issue. People who thought the bus station should stay downtown until someone was OMG Rude! and are now hellbent on sending it to Woodside Lane to Put The Lower Orders In Their Place, if they exist, are hereby invited to suck it.

lollipops and rainbows

Beggars and Choosers: How The Politics of Choice Shapes Adoption, Abortion, and Welfare in the United States. Rickie Solinger, if I understand her, argues that in American discourse the word "right" implies something inalienable, while the word "choice" is always connected to the concept of consumer choice, and as a consumer, you get the choices you can pay for. The result is that reproductive control has been defined as something women have to "earn" in the marketplace: affluent women, by virtue of their affluence, are entitled to choices, but poor women are not.

What Solinger describes will be familiar to anyone who follows the politics of reproduction in North America -- the Hyde Amendment, the "Welfare Queen" myth, the forced-Norplant and forced-sterilization scandals, the "workfare" policies designed to force poor mothers into the workforce while various tax schemes were invented to entice middle-class and affluent mothers out of the workforce.

Solinger's clearly aware of the racial aspects of this, but I'm not sure she quite pulls it together in a way that makes sense. She starts out describing the mostly white "homes for unwed mothers" that "produced" babies for adoption in the 1950s and 1960s, often by browbeating, threatening, or physically forcing the "patients" to give up their children; then she moves into the post-Roe demonization of hyper-fertile "welfare queens" (who were and are generally imagined as black), and argues that the framing of reproductive rights as "choice" enables a punitive attitude towards women who make the "wrong" choice. I was left wondering what happened to single white women giving birth in the 1980s and 1990s (they mostly kept their babies, that's all I really learned) and what had happened to black single women who got pregnant pre-Roe (some did go to maternity homes, but Solinger implies that many did not and does not go into detail about what happened to them.)

I am not sure this all hangs together. I am pretty sure that the stereotype of the racialized woman as sluttish breeding machine pre-dates terms like "pro-choice", as does eugenics, as does the official contempt shown for "bastards" and racialized children. The language of choice (as opposed to "rights") didn't challenge much of this framing, but I doubt it created it. I'm also not sure the language of rights protects rights-bearers all that well given that popular discourse is filled with references to people who "don't deserve any rights" for one reason or another.

So: not sold on the central thesis of the book. As a collection of essays, though, it's great stuff.

Soul By Soul. Okay, trying again. I've never been south of the Chesapeake Bay, and my knowledge of the South growing up was pretty much limited to some Shirley Temple movies (whose horrible politics I was too young to understand, thank goodness), some child-level biography of Martin Luther King read to me in Grade 5, and various aren't-Canadians-great titles like Underground to Canada. I have not read To Kill A Mockingbird or seen Gone with the Wind, although I really should see the latter. (I can't seem to get enthused about To Kill A Mockingbird.)

But I think the Confederacy is fascinating, because it won't freaking die, and one of the reasons it won't freaking die is that the people perpetuating the neo-Confederate/Lost Cause myth are full of denial and contradictions. The war wasn't about slavery but slavery wasn't so bad anyway. Actually it was pretty great and most slaves were happy being slaves and were way better off enslaved in North America than they would have been in Africa (um....) but the South would have got rid of slavery soon anyway so it was stupid to fight about it and no one is defending slavery here it's just that it wasn't that bad and anyway the war wasn't about slavery so why are you making a big deal of it et cetera et cetera et cetera.

Walter Johnson tracks the contradictions and denials back into the pre-war years, through a rather overtly pomo look at the slave market as seen and described by former slaves, slave traders, and slave buyers. The chapters about being a slave are interesting, but I'd say not as interesting as the chapters about having slaves, because the latter involved so much bizarre self-justification, for example, believing that slaveholders and slave buyers were lovely people but slave traders were the scum of the earth, or believing that it was kind and humane to threaten to destroy a person's family at the first hint of defiance (as an alternative to whipping). Reading the book, I kept having flashes of recognition followed by moments of revulsion: I buy commodities, labour-saving devices, status symbols, and enslaved people were sold for those purposes; being able to identify even a little with someone on his way out to buy another person is scary. And then there are the more current questions; we still live in a world marked by the effects of slavery and colonialism, and I would go into that in more detail, but I would be both unoriginal and (even more) boring, so go here instead.

I have moved on to Slavery By Another Name, which describes the system of convict, prisoner, and debt slavery that substantially replaced chattel slavery after the Civil War. As you can no doubt see, I am a cheerful person.

there's a reason I don't love this town II: from the archive

As annoying as I find NOW and The Coast at times -- particularly the former, whose editorial stance sometimes appears to be "Everything the Conservatives does is bad because it's the Conservatives and I don't even need another reason" -- they are at least independent and critical of the Powers That Be.

Not so Fredericton's Here, which is owned by the Irvings (as is virtually all media in the province). Here publishes the occasional good piece -- I don't mean to tar everyone who works there with an identical brush -- but overall, it's an embarrassment, and nowhere is that more comprehensively demonstrated than this article from last summer, by one Ashley Bursey.

When I fisked this last year, I didn't really know anything about Brad Woodside. Now I know a little bit about Brad Woodside, most of it having to do with his reluctance to announce Pride events (perhaps, like my former MP, he prefers to serve only the constituents who voted for him), his apparent fondness for pulling "pilot projects" out of his ass, and his smug demeanour and fondness for clichés.

Whatever; back to the article. Let us begin with the standfirst:

Woodside continues to lead Fredericton while being an every day man.

Goodness! He's a man every day. And, yeah, it must be tough for a mere mortal to "lead" a swarming metropolis of 50,000.

There's an open can of Budweiser sitting on the patio table; deck chairs are scattered left and right, with a hanging umbrella waiting to be mounted on the deck. It's in the mid-20s and Brad Woodside, red baseball cap slightly askew, has just finished mowing the lawn.

This is what's known as setting the scene. I think we're also supposed to be impressed that Woodside does his own household chores. On a public servant's salary, he can hardly afford not to.

I'm not sure why she mentioned that he drinks Budweiser, though. For one thing, if he wants to seem like a real local booster, he should drink New Brunswick beer; for another thing, Budweiser sucks.

He answers the door with the grin Frederictonians have come to know and respect.

I don't respect grins. But then I am from the big bad city.

"Want a beer?" He asks, talking a mile a minute as a white Bichon Frise named Kirby jumps excitedly around his feet. Later, his wife Anne will admit how much that dog loves Brad...

Wow, this is some hard-hitting investigative journalism here! Watch out, Seymour Hersh!

It's a beautiful house in a nice neighbourhood on Fredericton's North Side, and the cloudless sky and bright sun match Woodside's hearty demeanour.

More hard-hitting journalism. It's a beautiful house. What kind of house? How old is it? How big? Where on the North Side? It's a nice neighbourhood? What does that even mean?

And apparently Brad Woodside is the living embodiment of sunshine. I'm trying to think of a term for this kind of journalism that isn't extremely rude. Puff piece? Advertorial?

He's just come from one of this weekend's two charity events, and the odour of fiddleheads and frying onions wafts through the house as Anne cooks Sunday dinner.

In heels and pearls and a little frilly apron, no doubt.

I know my politics put me in the minority in Fredericton, but I'm feeling vaguely nauseated, reading this tale of hearty Brad Woodside and his well-trained hausfrau. It's making me wonder if Anne has a job, or opinions, or an OxyContin habit, or is actually a robot. Honestly, better not to mention her at all than to portray her this way.

Everything in the house is as candid and refreshingly unpretentious as Woodside himself, and it's instantly obvious why he's become Fredericton's longest-standing mayor: the role fits him like a glove.

Did Woodside pay her for this profile? Is there an election coming up?

It wasn't always like that. Growing up, Woodside was shy; public speaking made him "nervous and sweaty," he admits. It wasn't until he joined a band -- the Impalas, who played rock 'n' roll covers -- in junior high that things took a complete 180.

Woodside is sixty years old. He has been Fredericton's mayor since 1986. The writer has chosen to explain Woodside's political successes by referring to events that happened nearly fifty years ago.

Maybe that's Woodside being a douche, but regardless, it's stupid journalism. For more Woodside being a douche, read on:

"I gave my first speech at Devon School in Grade 9, when I ran for president of student government," he adds. "And you know, I was playing in the band at that time and I remember getting on the stage and everybody that was running for president sort of stood there, prim and proper, and gave a speech and stuff. I just wasn't really used to that whole thing, so when I got up I grabbed the microphone and sort of tilted it and the place went wild. I just gave my first political speech and I was elected president."

So that would have been 1962 or 1963. Relevant.

From that point, it just got bigger and better...

Okay, I'm done with the whole trying not to be rude thing. I think this article would work better as a porno film (Brad Woodside: It Just Gets Bigger and Better). At least then the writer's ass-licking would serve a purpose.

This past four years, he says, were his best yet: a focus on environmental awareness, tourism, and information technology have bolstered the city's reputation in the global marketplace

"Someone in Maine heard of us!"

, and as a progressive-thinking 'green' community.

Fredericton is one of the most car-dependent places I've ever visited. One of (what you might call) the main drags is given over to strip and big-box malls, with a few useless little patches of sidewalk added for laughs. Even on those streets that have decent sidewalks, snow from the roads is ploughed on to the sidewalks and left there, which means anyone foolhardy enough to walk around town in the winter has to navigate mountains of snow, patches of black ice and puddles of slush. Transit is so poorly programmed and funded that the taxis have turned into jitneys despite laws against picking up multiple passengers, and there's like one recycling bin in the whole downtown because we're all supposed to drive our recyclables to the depot, because of course everybody has a car, because what kind of moron would try to live in Fredericton without a car?

"I had this idea: to let people know how good it is here, I have to let them know how bad it is in the rest of the world. So I talked about the big picture...and then I said, you know, it's pretty difficult when you live in a place that's so much like a garden, to be concerned about the environment, but we should be just as concerned as anybody else.

I think the area around the university is more like an office park with a few trees here and there, but I admit I'm jaded.

This problem is going to affect us and we have to be really focused and appreciate what we have, clean water and clean air. And so, anyway, I fired everybody up on that speech."

Well, bully for him. Unfortunately, an impassioned speech and $1.25 will get you a cup of coffee at Tim Horton's.

The Green Matters campaign, which hopes to make Fredericton one of the first cities in the country to reach Kyoto greenhouse gas emission targets, is hitting the ground running.

An impassioned speech, a hopeful campaign and $2.50 will get you two cups of coffee at Tim Horton's.

With an online Green Club, tips to help people reduce emissions, and a good chunk of change set aside for the project, it's innovative and, Woodside says, incredibly important.

Where does the "good chunk of change" go? Bandwidth is not that expensive; neither is hiring someone to write "tips." For that matter, how much "change" is it? Oh, wait, there I go, expecting actual journalism in Here. I never learn.

Anyway, if this sketchy description is at all accurate, I think it points to a major problem with Fredericton politics. As a university town, Fredericton has a lot of young, short-term residents, which means a lot of tenants. However, since tenants don't tend to vote in municipal elections or get involved in municipal government, the government seems inclined to ignore us when providing services like, say, recycling pick-up. Really, for a student town, Fredericton is pretty darn hostile to students, but that's another rant.

Edit: Okay, I found the website with the tips. Nothing special: it's your usual individual virtue stuff, geared to homeowners with cars. It's very well to tell people to walk or bike instead of driving, but how about clearing the sidewalks to make that halfway appealing?


Maybe we can skate to work.

(And in the long term, how about encouraging denser city growth, infill building, etc., so the walks aren't so needlessly long, uncomfortable and boring?) Where is an apartment dweller supposed to plant a tree? I can't tinker with my furnace because it doesn't belong to me. And so on.

I get that improving services would cost money, and I have no idea what Fredericton's budget looks like. Maybe setting up a website is actually the best the city can do. But if you're going to take credit for spending a "chunk of change" on an "innovative" project, you should actually, you know, do it.

But green living is just part of Fredericton's charm.

Charm.

I've only ever lived in Toronto, Halifax, and Fredericton, but guess which one makes "green living" the biggest pain in the ass? Just guess.

It's a small community with a big-city infrastructure, and Woodside -- who grew up here -- is moving forward to keep the city fresh with big-time flavour.

Someone give this woman her own sitcom. Green living? Big-city infrastructure? Big-time flavour? (Are we supposed to lick Fredericton now?)

And Woodside is a testament to the city's popularity; he's a recognizable figure on city streets, and in city businesses.

Interesting logic. People in Fredericton recognize the mayor of Fredericton, and somehow this is a "testament" to Fredericton's popularity outside of Fredericton.

Just last night, he admits, he dropped into Jack's Pizza in downtown Freddy for a quick slice.

Oh my gosh, how did she ever get him to admit that? I am shocked and appalled. Anyway, I bet you want more of Woodside sounding like a douche:

"It's all about Fredericton," he says. "I travel all over the world and visit some amazing incredible cities...I love New York, it's one of my favourite cities, but I wouldn't want to live in New York and I wouldn't want to live outside New York and commute two hours every day, four hours in my car. So I think we have the best of both worlds."

Yeah, it's amazing how much Fredericton (metro population: approximately 80,000) reminds me of New York (regional population: approximately 20 million). It has sidewalks! And...um...a McDonald's! Somewhere! And then it also reminds me very much of whatever else Woodside was referring to when he said Fredericton had the best of "both" worlds.

The Irvings must really like this guy.

there's a reason I don't love this town

The woman The Pedgehog calls The Mad Chatter, I have taken to calling Smuggie: not witty, but accurate. She likes to hold up a sign that says "I Regret My Abortion" on one side and "Silent No More" on the other and talk, talk, talk.

T, one of the escorts, likes to chat with the protesters, a sort of deliberate-obtuseness-off: he managed somehow to wipe the smirk off Smuggie's face yesterday, for which I was grateful. The clinic manager pointed out yesterday that Smuggie is a trophy for NB Right to Life, rather as Norma McCorvey is for American right-to-lifers.

I hadn't slept the night before clinic (bleeping insomnia), which meant I was punchy and bitter all through the shift. The matchy-matchy outfits on the female protesters are a source of much mirth. One in particular, whom I shall name Scarlet Woman, likes to wear head-to-toe red -- red bucket hat, red jacket, red pants, red Birkenstocks, red umbrella when it rains. She looks like an overgrown toddler.

Many of the protesters have nicknames. Here are a few:

Mr. Mumbles. Short round-faced guy whose lower lip sticks out to one side when he mumbles, which he does all the time. The one time I got close enough to hear what he was saying, it was something like this: ...and the Bible says there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth and then oh Lord you're going to get those non-Christians oh lord then you're going to get them...

Ghost Lady. Slender middle-aged lady who softly whines "There are other ooooooptions" as the patients walk in, and "We can help you next door" as they walk out.

Earpiece Charlie. Big bouncer-ish guy, carries a sign that says "Believe The Lie And Babies Die" over a picture of Jesus in this position. Loves being noticed (in any way, I guess) by young women, flattered to be nicknamed and willing to "take" whatever the "ladies" on The Pedgehog's blog "dish out", is sure abortion clinic is staffed with "radical feminists" who want to kill all men so they can then use "artificial wombs" (logic!). Can't spell. Has weird fixation on how abortion rights allow women to be "permisquis". Isn't around much these days; maybe he discovered a porn site that better served his needs.

Crazy Legs. Blonde woman, carries around foetus sign with foetus sucking thumb (IIRC, said photo is of a dead foetus arranged to look as if it was sucking its thumb, but whatever), likes to throw herself at cars. I hear she once threw herself into a snowdrift, filled her pockets with snow, then called the cops and claimed an escort pushed her.

Pink Hat. No longer wears her pink hat since a bunch of escorts showed up in matching pink berets to make fun of her. Likes to look into the front windows of the clinic and pray. When ordered by police to stop looking in the windows, turns around and prays facing the street.

I need nicknames for some of them, like the short guy who kind of looks like Al Jardine, or the very nondescript white-haired guy who walks around with a sign that says "Jesus Has Already Given Me My Name Mommy". Jesus has very inconsistent taste.

In other news, Fredericton's illustrious Mayor still acts like a pouty baby when asked to announce Pride events, and NB's anti-choice Health Minister has become its anti-choice Attorney General. Awesome. I can't wait to make my own personal contribution to New Brunswick's youth retention problem.

show and tell

This is my friend Matty, the unbrushed cat.

Summer seems to come early in Fredericton; the roses are already wilting. When my parents were here they said it reminded them of Muskoka, the southern, greener part. To me it's a lot like Chippawa, Ontario, where my Grandma used to live: the river, the lush greenness, the quaint downtown and sprawling suburbs, the heavy heat.

Although it hasn't been hot here lately, just endlessly muggy.

I'll be out of here in a few weeks, which is kind of overwhelming. Four months felt like a long time at the beginning of the summer, and it's really not.