Slippery Slopes and Health Care

Holy Moly. Don’t do that. Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be? Think of the repercussions. Once the wheels are in motion they will be impossible to stop. Just one itty-bitty step in that direction and god knows where we’ll end up. You’ll set us on a slippery slope to oblivion. Or maybe even someplace worse. Like America. Aaaaaargh. My hair is literally standing on end at the thought. Talk about creeped out.

Anyway, these days it doesn’t matter what trendy causes you support or which ones you oppose, there’ll always be a slippery slope for you to slide down.

Tell me, if you had to name the most tired, overused, worn-out debating strategy in the world, what would it be? Sleep-inducing Rhetoric? (If you can’t impress ‘em with intelligence, baffle ‘em with bullshit) Fabricated Statistics? (There are three kinds of lies – lies, damnable Lies, and statistics) Demonizing Your Opponent? (“Racist, sexist anti-gay; right wing bigots go away…” ).

All are very effective debating strategies. But not as effective as mine. Mine is a tried and true show stopper. A veritable juggernaut of belligerent bafflegab.

It’s the Slippery Slope Strategy.

And never has this strategy been put to more effective use than in Canada’s health care debate.

My God people, do you have any idea what would happen if we allowed Canadians to purchase their own health insurance or health care? Within no time at all, the public system would crumble, hospitals would close and millions of poor Canadians would be suffering and dying. In fact, all that prevents the poor from dying a brutal, painful death are the laws against private health care. Just let one American (Capitalist bastards) MRI provider set up shop in Canada and before you know it, bodies of poor people will be piled like cord-wood along the sides of the road and plaintive voices will rise in the morning air: “Bring our yer dead- Bring out yer dead”.

Pause for full dramatic effect.

Admit it, you were actually buying into that nonsense. It’s positively hypnotic, isn’t it.

One solitary private health care clinic = slippery slope = total and complete decimation of our public healthcare system.

Of course this is complete and utter nonsense. There are already many private health care delivery services here in Canada.

Many employed people have Extended Health Care coverage. If they get sick, they get special treatment from our health system. They get to stay in semi-private rooms instead of wards. They get dental, chiropractic and drug coverage. And then there’s the people who have Government workplace insurance coverage (WSIB here in Onario) and are injured in the workplace. Thanks to the influence of their powerful government sponsored health insurer, they get pushed to the front of the line with respect to specialist appointments, physiotherapy, medical scanning, medical testing and surgeries. After all, we must get these people back to work to alleviate the financial burden on our public insurance program. The rest of us can wait.

And then, of course, there’s the rich, connected and famous. Sports stars and Politicians get Cadillac service. Have you ever heard of any Canadian hockey star or Politician waiting for any medical treatment? And then there's the movie stars. Can you imagine Sarah Polly, or maybe Kiefer Sutherland, finding a peculiar lump on his or her anatomy and then patiently waiting months in line with the rest of us for a Doctor's appointment, a specialist’s appointment, testing and, ultimately, chemo or surgery. No way. Ain’t gonna happen. They probably wouldn’t even try to slip into line ahead of the rest of us Canadians in the public system. After all, it’s a public system and they are above that. They’d probably access one of Canada’s many private clinics or go stateside. And yet these privileged, elite ‘stars’ are the first to lecture us about the evils of private health care.

Well, it’s hard to argue with them. After all, private health care IS a very slippery slope. Yadda yadda.

And yes, you did not read me wrong. There ARE many private health facilities in Canada where only the influential and rich get treatment.

Paul Martin, Canada’s late, great (did I really say great? ) Prime Minister gets his treatment from a doctor in Quebec who operates a private, fee-for-service clinic. Yep. That’s right folks, while this millionaire shipping tycoon denies us regular Canadians the right to buy our own health care, he actually does it himself.

Socialist Quebec, by the way, has the most private clinics in Canada. It’s their dirty little secret. And there are many more of these clinics in many provinces across Canada.

It may appear to some people that these clinics are proof that the slippery slope theory is valid. After all, it had to start somewhere. At some point in history there was one or maybe just a few of these clinics. And, from there, they grew to the point where, today, they are all across Canada.

However, if the concern is really that one or a few private health providers will actually put Canada on a slippery slope towards a totally private system, why have these providers been allowed to propagate? Could it be because the very Politicians and connected people who continually lecture us about the evils of private health actually use these private providers themselves?

In reality, maybe the health care slippery slope issue isn’t as black and white as the rich and connected would have us believe. After all, they don’t actually oppose the slope, although they want us to believe they do. They just want to make sure that only a few privileged people get to descend down it – as long as they are among the few.

So, at this point we need to make a decision. There are three choices.

The first is the least equal: We can continue to allow only the elite to access a quicker way back to good health through private care, as we do today.

The second is the most equal: We can eliminate private care totally and make the elite wait as long as everyone else. Until they die, if necessary.

The third is a compromise - more equal than the first and less equal then the second: We can make private care available to everyone and give anyone, who can somehow raise the money, the freedom to seek their own health care as they choose.

Equality is an important thing. So is freedom. Between the two – equality or freedom - which, do you think, is more important when it comes to saving your life?

The Death of Artistic Mastery

Quick, name your favorite modern day musician or composer. Tell me, how do they compare, in terms of pure genius or creativity, with Beethoven, Mozart, Strauss, Bach or Tchaikovsky? Be honest now. In your humble opinion, who is the greatest artist living today? Does he (or she) even come close to Michelangelo, DaVinci, Rembrandt, Picasso, Renoir or van Gogh? Chances are, no. Who’s your favourite modern-day poet? How do they stack up against Burns, Keats, Dickinson, Wordsworth, Browning or Tennyson? Do the words “hold a candle” come to mind? And then there’s the realm of prose. Tell me, which of today’s writers are as good as Shakespeare, Poe, Homer, Milton, Dickens, or Conan-Doyle? Will their works stand the test of time as well as these masters have? Did you know that only the Bible has sold more copies than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books?

Here we are in the 21st century. So smug and self absorbed. So full of ourselves. So comfy. So pampered and secure in our lives of convenience and instant gratification. We’ve got it all baby. And oh how we’ve grown over the past few centuries. Grown in scientific, medical and technological knowledge. Grown in our awareness of the planet and our environment. Grown in our tolerance of those who are different and in our empathy towards those who are worse off than us. Most of all, we’ve grown in physical girth.

Why is it then that we have failed to grow in terms of artistic ability?

It would appear that as we grow physically obese in our world of plenty, we also grow artistically and culturally flabby too. The more we feed our faces with KFC and our brains with reality TV, the more artistically and culturally deprived (or maybe depraved?) we become.

Our bodies have reached the height of lifestyle comfort. Yet our souls have plunged to the depths of artistic mediocrity. Why? Why do all of today’s artists seem to pale in comparison with those who lived so long ago? What facilities did the great writers, composers and artists possess those many years ago that today’s bevy of so-called artists don’t? Was it something in the water?

Ask yourself - where are the Mozarts of today? How many 12 year olds are writing brilliant symphonies? (‘Lil Bow Wow doesn’t count.) Where are the great poets and story tellers? Sure, there are hundreds of big box stores loaded with books and CDs. But how many of these works are truly great? How many are even mediocre? And how many will be remembered and loved a hundred years from now like the works of the above geniuses are? Not too bloody many. None I bet.

And yet, we think we’re really something. We strut around in our well appointed living rooms watching our widescreens and munching on take-out. The vast majority of us live lives that would have been the envy of the aristocracy a few centuries ago. The world is our oyster. We’ve got twice as much stuff as generations past, but only half as much artistic talent. Weird huh?

Artistically and culturally speaking, we have replaced quality with quantity - taste and discretion with gluttony and excess – an appreciation for fine literature with a hunger for disposable, voyeuristic pap - a respect for literacy and genius with a discomfort for making anyone feel less worthy or less intelligent than anyone else - an admiration for the exceptional with a insatiable appetite for the commonplace.

And most notably (I think) we’ve replaced the class system of old, where the elite were clearly distinguished from the rabble; with a modern societal system where there are hardly any elites or poor and virtually everyone is comfortable and middle class.

And therein, says I, lays the rub.

Years ago, when many of the masters lived and produced their exceptional work, there was a small elite class in most nations, a huge mass of rabble and virtually no middle class at all. The elite were sophisticated and literate. They set the cultural tone. They reveled in enjoying the finest in culture and art their society could provide. They had money and good taste, which they used to sponsor, preserve, propagate, purchase and appreciate great art and literature. To them, it was what separated them from the rabble. In return, the greatest artists and writers produced works that met with the approval of their elite consumers.

The rabble, on the other hand, being largely semi-literate and unsophisticated, were detached from any real artistic or cultural experience. They had no money to spend on art, concerts or books. And when they were exposed to such things, they looked to the elite for an example of what was good and bad and tried to emulate their superior taste. They had the sense to know their own limitations. They knew their place.

Today in the Western world there is no rabble. No.....wait a minute....that’s not exactly right. What I mean to say is that, today, all the people whose forefathers were once rabble, as mine were, are now comfortably middle class in appearance. But never forget, even with all our money, spending power, education and social enlightenment, most of us are still the descendants of rabble. In fact, maybe deep inside, we are still rabble - complete with the sensibilities and artistic soul of rabble. Our bodies may be residing in a nice house in a comfortable neighbourhood, but our souls still live in houses with dirt floors.

And here we are in our wonderful, modern-day, western societies. We dominate all aspects of day to day life through our mass, insatiable consumption. This includes controlling what is produced, appreciated and purchased as art. The elites are no longer in control. In fact there are virtually no more elites. Most of today’s rich were once rabble themselves. Capitalism does appear to have its warts as well as its benefits.

So here we are. The small number of those descended from the elite have been silenced by the overpowering number of those descended from rabble. There is virtually no one left of higher breeding to demand higher standards from the artistic world. Artists now answer to the rabble disguised as the middle class and rich. And they produce art for the rabble in accordance with the expectations and standards of the rabble.

Us rabble no longer look to the elite to set the standards for artistic accomplishment. We have imposed our own taste and sensibilities on the art world - taste and sensibilities honed through centuries of living as, well, rabble.

And there is no going back. Humanity will only ever experience one golden age of literature, music and art. And that age has passed. But don’t weep for it. After all, look at what we’re producing today, complements of our sophisticated, middle-class rabblry. There’s Harlequin Romances, Stephen King, Fitty Cent, Michael Moore, Brittney Spears, Reality TV, Abstract Expressionism, Dogs Playing Poker on Black Velvet, and innumerable, crass, valueless, anonymous, disposable, stainless steel sculptures nestled in every shadow of every massive concrete office tower in every bloody city in the freakin’ world. Don't look for a statue of David, the Mona Lisa or a Sistine Chapel. You won't find any. Nor will you hear anything like Beethoven's fifth or read anything like 'A Tale of Two Cities'.

We have the highest standard of living in the history of mankind; endless strip plazas, dollar stores and drive throughs; and a fabulous welfare system that allows all poor people to live in a comfortable, warm apartment. No one lives like rabble anymore. But no one produces exceptional, historically significant art either.

I wonder.....did we trade one for the other? Or was it really just something in the water?

I'm A Feminist Now

In past columns I explained why I decided to become a Quebec separatist, despite being a unilingual Anglophone living in Ontario; and a Muslim, despite being a proud descendent of Christians.

This week, I’ve decided to become a feminist. The truth be told, I find today’s rag-tag bunch of whining, Marxist/feminist girlies kind of pathetic, really. But I’m gonna join their merry band nonetheless. Yessir. (Oops, sorry, that was inappropriate. I mean yes person.)

Yep, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna march through the streets on “National Female Oil-rig Roughneck Day” celebrating all the woman who revel in a good filthy day’s work – all three of them. I’m gonna support our female cops and firemen (Oops, I mean firefighters), even if they do leave most of the heavy lifting to the boys. I’m gonna support our women in the army, even if they really have no place at all in hand to hand combat and are used mostly for strategic photo-ops so Canadians can watch the news, see the 130lb girls in fatigues, clutch their chests, sigh and think of how utterly enlightened we are. Sure, boys, maybe there are no girls in the elite military squadrons where physical capabilities are paramount. But, hey, that’s because the army is a sexist anachronism. If we are to trust the defense of our society in hand to hand combat against big swarthy men, we should trust it to females. Any reasonable, new-age person would.

I’m gonna support our Family Court system, even if it has become nothing more than a mechanism to punish and degrade men. I’m gonna support our criminal justice system even though it always treats females better than males, gives them lighter sentences for the same crimes and houses them in much more comfortable surroundings. I’m gonna support gender quotas in our medical schools, even though female doctors don’t put in as many hours when they enter practice thus providing the public with less service than a male doctor would. Oh well, another few weeks wait won’t kill you.

I’m gonna support state funded day care even though it’s used mostly by comfortable middle class mommies who could, with a little sacrifice, stay at home with their kids but who would rather make you and me pay so they pursue more fulfilling work. I’m gonna support endless social programs for women, especially for single mothers, even if they became single mothers on purpose to get a free welfare apartment and monthly cheque. I’m gonna support abortion on demand so that all our teenage daughters can pretend their uteruses are equal to a prostate gland.

I’m gonna support our schools, even though they are emasculating our sons. I'll laugh as they impose female-friendly curriculum that stresses collaboration over competition, sensitivity over strength and empathy over ambition. I'll snicker as boys' grades fall and fall while girls' do better and better. And no more dodge ball. Horrors, someone might get hurt. If a boy kisses a girl in the playground, he should be expelled. After all, that’s sexual harassment. Maybe he's just five, but that’s no excuse. Brute. Point a banana at a buddy and say ‘bang’ ‘bang’ – home you go. You little savage.

I’m gonna support filling traditional male dominated jobs with women. Jobs like doctor, lawyer, police officer, firefighter, university professor and bus driver. The traditional female dominated jobs however must stay the same. Maybe women are 85% of all elementary school teachers and nurses. But that’s a natural thing, not a matter of discrimination. Best to leave it just as it is. If you think differently, expect me to be on your ass immediately. Sexist pig.

I’m gonna support all employment equity programs. Even if they compare totally incomparable professions for the sole purpose of paying women more. A secretary has every right to be compared to a surveyor. An office manager has every right to be compared to a civil engineer. After all, aren’t we all equal under the skin? Why should male dominated jobs be paid more than female dominated ones? We can’t expect females to actually qualify and apply for the male dominated jobs. That would be unfair. So lets just pay ‘em the same and it’ll all be alright.

I’m gonna support ALL modern-day feminist causes. I’m gonna march in the streets. Come join me to celebrate National Women’s Day; National Women of Color Week; Women’s Career Week; All Women are Men's Victims Day; All Men are Scum Month, Kick A Man in the Balls Week; And my personal favorite – National Transgendered Cross-dressing Genitally-pierced Obese Feminist Refugee Week.

Yep, what else would a good, new age, enlightened, left-wing feminist do? I’m buying into it all baby. Lock stock and barrel. And no, I don’t feel the need to shower hourly. Why would you ask such a question?

Q: How many feminists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Ten. One to screw in the bulb, Two to lend moral support. Three to apply for a government grant. And four to march around loudly bemoaning how women are under-represented in the light bulb screwing industry.

A little while ago I would have laughed at that joke. Or at least offered a sad, wry grin. But now I am appalled. Appalled I tell you. Appalled and outraged. Haven’t women suffered enough at the hands of men without rubbing salt in the wound?

Anyway, you may be wondering what has brought about this miraculous transformation. How could someone like me – a delightfully cynical and yet exceptionally balanced individual – descend into such complete and utter psychosis? How could I appear perfectly (reasonably?) sane one minute and the next throw off the chains of reason and embrace something as unbalanced, unenlightened and bigoted as Twenty-first century feminism.

Why, my daughters of course.

After all, I’ll be gone someday and I ain’t got no sons. So why the hell should I care?

Why shouldn’t I want a world where my daughters have the advantage? I’ve been thinking about it and have come to the conclusion that I had it all wrong. Women, particularly my daughters, should have the advantage in the workplace, in the courts, in the schools and Universities. Women should have the advantage today and men should feel guilty about ever having it in the first place.

My daughters are all that matter to me. So, I've decided to stop defending my gender and start thinking solely about them. After all, what have all the men in society done for me lately? Why should I defend their right to equity and fairness? Imagine how much easier it will be for my daughters if I and all other men just stop opposing the feminists. And, as a good father, shouldn’t I be supportive of a system that makes it as easy as possible for my daughters to succeed?

Boys, I’m sorry but I’ve made my choice. It might be unfair, but, still, the feminist way of thinking dominates most of our public institutions and social fabric. Give up boys. You are toast. No one stands up for you. No one cares. Girls rule. My girls will rule. And with little ol’ feminist me supporting them, and all of society behind them, there is nothing they can’t do.

A Conundrum of Confusing Cliche Contradictions

I love the English Language. Of, course it’s the only language I know. But still, I am completely captivated by its infinite complexities, exquisite beauty and incomparable elegance. The thing I love most about it is the endless array of figures of speech, clichés and euphemisms. And, as with anything good in our society – such as art, music, prose and poetry - the best of these wonderful linguistic idiosyncrasies date back many years. So, this is my tribute to the wisdom, humour and profound simplicity of a people who lived in an era long since past but whose lessons still hold true today for those who will listen.

Wait a minute. What am I saying? Maybe there are some lessons here, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what they are. In fact, the more I think about it, the more confused I get. Here, let me give you a few examples.

Maybe you remember when they used to say that you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. And you can’t teach old dogs new tricks. However, you also remember that necessity is the mother of invention. And where there’s a will there’s a way.

Give a man a fish and you’ll be feeding him for life, give him a net and he can feed himself. God helps those who help themselves. However, you should always do unto others as you would have them do unto you and give ‘till it hurts. On second thought, you should always look out for number one.

A stitch in time saves nine. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Look before you leap. Patience is a virtue. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Yet, time and tide wait for no man. He who hesitates is lost. You should never put off ‘till tomorrow what you can do today. Opportunity never knocks twice. Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead.

Strength is a virtue. No quarter asked nor given. Never say die. Only rats desert a sinking ship. Better to live with honour than die with shame. Might makes right. Surrender is not an option. However, he who fights and runs away lives to fight another day. Hey, maybe take up journalism. After all, the pen is mightier than the sword.

Sometimes you have to put your foot down and stand up for what you think is right. After all, quitters never win and winners never quit. But never forget, you should love thine enemy and the meek shall inherit the earth so maybe you should just give up and turn the other cheek.

And, don’t forget, you should never borrow from Peter to pay Paul. After all, neither a borrower nor a lender be. Take care of the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves. Just don’t spend them all in one place. Make sure you save for a rainy day. A fool and his money are soon parted. Waste not, want not. On second thought, you can’t take it with you, so might as well spend like a drunken sailor. After all, money isn’t everything. In fact, it's the root of all evil. And aren’t the best things in life free?

Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise. However, if you really want to get ahead you should burn the midnight oil, put your nose to the grindstone and work around the clock, 24/7.

All is forgiven. Let bygones be bygones. Forgive and forget. Let the past remain in the past. To err is human; to forgive, divine. Two wrongs don’t make a right. What am I saying? Revenge is sweet. As ye sow so shall ye reap. An eye for an eye. I’ll exact my pound of flesh and take back what is mine. I’m nobody’s doormat. I’ll show you. You’ll be sorry.

Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know. But don’t get too chummy. After all, familiarity breeds contempt.

There is more than one way to skin a cat. Better to be a jack of all trades than a master of none. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. But, you shouldn’t spread yourself too thin. Stick with what you know.

Birds of a feather flock together. Ye shall be judged by the company you keep. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it must be a duck. Like father like son. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Yet, we shouldn’t rush to judgment and we should never judge by appearances. Every man is an individual and deserves to be judged on his own merit. Yadda yadda.

Curiosity killed the cat. Don’t ask the question if you don’t want to hear the answer. Speak when you are spoken to. Mind your own business. Don’t be a nosey Nellie. Keep your mouth closed and your eyes open. Yet, its good to be in the know. Knowledge is power. Seeing is believing. Fate favours the prepared. Its good to have an inquisitive mind. You should question everything.

You should look on the bright side. Keep a positive attitude. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Don’t let life get you down, Don’t worry, be happy. Keep your head up. Keep smiling. But, for god's sake, don't lose touch with reality. Get a hold of yourself. Get a grip. You're wearing rose colored glasses. Your head is in the clouds. Come back down to earth. No one trusts a person who smiles all the time.