Hail Mary and the Junk Man

By Charles Adler, with help from Charles Krauthammer

First, a little political football — Warren Kinsella, the former Liberal strategist is saying publicly what every Liberal activist is saying privately. They understand that while the country is not having a love affair with Stephen Harper (never did, never will), they are not interested in disposing of him like a Tim Horton's coffee cup. To use Kinsella's words, “They are not hell bent on getting rid of him.” The entire thrust of Liberal strategy (if you can call it that) in the last two years has been sooner or later Canadians will wake up to how scary Stephen Harper is. It hasn't happened. He's about as scary as your local loans officer at the bank. You may not love him. He may make you go through a whole lot of hoops to get your dough. But ultimately you trust him and you keep going back to the bank. You can take this to the bank, folks.

It's been nearly five years since Stephen Harper beat Paul Martin and there is no movement to bring Paul Martin back on the premise. The public is not having buyer's remorse. Oh Gosh Darn, we made the wrong decision. Sorry Paul, please come back. It's not happening. There is no move to resurrect Stephane Dion who lost to Stephen Harper. Please, please si vous plait Monsieur Dion. Please come back. Sorry. Not happening. By this time next year, the same will be said about the next former leader of the Liberal party Michael Ignatieff. Kinsella's former team mate Ian Davey, the son of the former Liberal rainmaker Keith Davey, the architect of many Liberal victories during their halcyon days, said in the National Post on Monday, “Liberals have to learn from Rob Ford how to win elections, have to focus on economic competence, which is to say cut the bloated spending programs.” The advice is to stop muddying the message of economic competence by talking about things like the home care program that Liberals were unwrapping earlier in the year. That's when they were talking about the government sending you cheques to take care of ailing Grandma and Grandpa, a warm and fuzzy spending program that appeals to the Liberal base. In any other time, maybe a winning idea. Not this time. To quote Ignatieff's former chief of staff, "In a time when Canadians know money is tight, Liberals would be far wiser to be focusing on a message of change. Just ask Rob Ford."

When Michael Ignatieff's former top adviser is now on the sidelines with nothing to lose by telling the truth and says the only way for Liberals to win is to impersonate Conservatives like Rob Ford – that is a message louder than a Vuvuzela at a South African soccer game. That is a loud message – and it’s saying the Liberals have nothing in the kit except a disguise. If Ignatieff wants to wear a disguise next spring, if he wants to don a mask and pretend he is a Conservative, then it is now said by the best brains in Liberalism that he has a chance. You'll pardon me for having my mind on the Grey Cup, but the disguise play is a desperate Hail Mary throw. And most of the time, the team that is on its own twenty yard line with only ten seconds left on the clock, most of the time the Hail Mary that is thrown doesn't end up in the promised land. That Hail Mary doesn't go to Jerusalem. It goes right into the Hudson's Bay. Michael Ignatieff, if he is willing to put on the disguise and pretend to be more Catholic than the Pope, more Conservative than the Conservatives – well there’s a good chance he’ll become Polar Bear Food. 


Nobody I've seen writing about the Don't Touch My Junk airport security issue has been able to put it into the perfect political context like Charles Krauthammer, who in the Washington Post has delivered this gem:

Ah, the airport, where modern folk heroes are made. The airport, where that inspired flight attendant did what everyone who's ever been in the spam-in-a-can crush of a flying aluminum tube – where we collectively pretend that a clutch of peanuts is a meal and a seat cushion is a "flotation device" – has always dreamed of doing: pull the lever, blow the door, explode the chute, grab a beer, slide to the tarmac and walk through the gates to the sanity that lies beyond. Not since Rick and Louis disappeared into the Casablanca fog headed for the Free French garrison in Brazzaville has a stroll on the tarmac thrilled so many.

Who cares that the crazed steward got arrested, pleaded guilty to sundry charges, and probably was a rude, unpleasant SOB to begin with? Bonnie and Clyde were psychopaths, yet what child of the '60s did not fall in love with Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty?

And now three months later, the newest airport hero arrives. His genius was not innovation in getting out, but deconstructing the entire process of getting in. John Tyner, cleverly armed with an iPhone to give YouTube immortality to the encounter, took exception to the TSA guard about to give him the benefit of Homeland Security's newest brainstorm – the upgraded, full-palm, up the groin, all-body pat-down. In a stroke, the young man ascended to myth, or at least the next edition of Bartlett's, warning the agent not to "touch my junk."

Not quite the 18th-century elegance of "Don't Tread on Me," but the age of Twitter has a different cadence from the age of the musket. What the modern battle cry lacks in archaic charm, it makes up for in full-body syllabic punch.

Don't touch my junk is the anthem of the modern man, the Tea Party patriot, the late-life libertarian, the midterm election voter. Don't touch my junk, Obamacare – get out of my doctor's examining room, I'm wearing a paper-thin gown slit down the back. Don't touch my junk, Google – Street View is cool, but get off my street. Don't touch my junk, you airport security goon – my package belongs to no one but me, and do you really think I'm a Nigerian nut job preparing for my 72-virgin orgy by blowing my johnson to kingdom come?

In "Up in the Air," that ironic take on the cramped freneticism of airport life, George Clooney explains why he always follows Asians in the security line:

"They pack light, travel efficiently, and they got a thing for slip-on shoes, God love 'em."

"That's racist!"

"I'm like my mother. I stereotype. It's faster."

That riff is a crowd-pleaser because everyone knows that the entire apparatus of the security line is a national homage to political correctness. Nowhere do more people meekly acquiesce to more useless inconvenience and needless indignity for less purpose. Wizened seniors strain to untie their shoes; beltless salesmen struggle comically to hold up their pants; 3-year-olds scream while being searched insanely for explosives – when everyone, everyone, knows that none of these people is a threat to anyone.

The ultimate idiocy is the full-body screening of the pilot. The pilot doesn't need a bomb or box cutter to bring down a plane. All he has to do is drive it into the water, like the EgyptAir pilot who crashed his plane off Nantucket while intoning "I rely on God," killing all on board.

But we must not bring that up. We pretend that we go through this nonsense as a small price paid to ensure the safety of air travel. Rubbish. This has nothing to do with safety – 95 percent of these inspections, searches, shoe removals and pat-downs are ridiculously unnecessary. The only reason we continue to do this is that people are too cowed to even question the absurd taboo against profiling – when the profile of the airline attacker is narrow, concrete, uniquely definable and universally known. So instead of seeking out terrorists, we seek out tubes of gel in stroller pouches.

The junk man's revolt marks the point at which a docile public declares that it will tolerate only so much idiocy. Metal detector? Back-of-the-hand pat? Okay. We will swallow hard and pretend airline attackers are randomly distributed in the population.

But now you insist on a full-body scan, a fairly accurate representation of my naked image to be viewed by a total stranger? Or alternatively, the full-body pat-down, which, as the junk man correctly noted, would be sexual assault if performed by anyone else?

This time you have gone too far, Big Bro'. The sleeping giant awakes. Take my shoes, remove my belt, waste my time and try my patience. But don't touch my junk.

That's Charles Krauthammer and I'm Charles Adler. We don't break news. We break heads, educating without pain and tedium. We break hearts, giving grown men the license to cry. And, we break down the doors of political correctness.

When tedium breaks out, we break in like a burglar.

Email from Sgt. Rob Cullen

Hey Charles….

I'm glad you were able to use my letter in your piece to the PM. You are saying for so many what is on their minds. Let me give you my take on this, from a bit of historical perspective. At this point, the following is a personal opinion, not reflective of my professional life. It is the opinion of Rob, citizen of the Adler Nation.

My grand dad's family came to Canada from Germany, and settled in Walkerton, Ontario. They farmed, he learned how to butcher. In 1916, with war raging and Canadians being lost by the hundreds on an almost daily basis he joined the fight. But not for the Kaiser, not for his homeland of birth. He went to fight for CANADA. This German by heritage Canadian boy went to fight for the country that had given his family hope, peace, and livelihood. Notice there is no hyphenated German-Canadian description. He came HERE. He was CANADIAN of German birth. In August of 1918 he served with the 2nd Canadian Mounted Rifles, and while on a mounted charge against dug in German positions, he was shot through the left shoulder. Only one of about a dozen from his squad to make it back to the lines. The difference between just another white cross in a small French cemetery, and my ability to write this to you is truly a matter of a few millimetres. After the war, he married and had several children, including my mother. She is now 87. She tells of how she didn't learn to speak English until she was about 5. They still only spoke German at home, and they had moved to Kitchener, where a vibrant Canadian community of German descendants thrived. (Previously, Kitchener was known as Berlin, but the name was changed by those living in the community to honour Lord Kitchener, whose leadership in the Great war was legendary).

What a crazy time!!! What crazy ideas!!  Come to Canada to make a better life. Bring your own culture and language. WORK THE LAND ! EARN A LIVING ! RAISE YOUR FAMILY TO BE THANKFUL FOR THEIR GOOD FORTUNE !  And when your country calls, answer.

My mom tells me how she can vividly remember the small scar of the front of his left shoulder, and the large scar on his back. He was shot going forward, face on INTO the enemy. He wasn't fighting for the enemy. I'm sure the idea of suing the government for his wounds would have been seen as traitorous. It would also have been the furthest thing from his mind.

In light of this example alone, I'm trying to find out how describing Omar Khadr and his family as Canadian is in any manner appropriate. Where did our standards change?

My dad volunteered for service in 1940, and served with the 12th Field Regiment, Royal Canadian Artillery. He was an aspiring hockey player, and was playing for the Waterloo Siskins when he volunteered.

Living the Canadian dream on ice. A dream unfulfilled.

He fought through the hell that was D Day, and like many of our valiant men, came head on with Hitler's notorious 12th  SS Panzer Division. What made this enemy so dangerous? They had been trained, they had seen battle before, and many of them had been Hitler Youth. As teenagers they had bought into a skewed, prejudicial, evil ideology, presented to them as teens or even earlier, and had vowed to die for a radical extremist leader. They viewed anyone not of their kind as a lesser race. After the war, many said that they had been forced to join the Hitler Youth. It is, in this case, well established that many did join under threat of death or injury to their family members. But many joined in support of immoral ideas spawned by a charismatic maniac, and were following in their father's footsteps.

Omar Khadr is no different. We know he was following in his father's footsteps. There is no indication of his father forcing him to go. He glorifies that he has been in the presence of Bin-Laden. No doubt he was sold an ideology by his father, which was furthered in training and in battle against the western allies. Not Taliban??…then you are a lesser race. And you need to be killed. And he would have pledged to die for the cause. Are we seeing a similarity here?

The scenes of these motivated and dedicated teenage Nazi troops would repeat all through the Allied advance. How brutal for one of our soldiers to come upon the body of the soldier that tried to kill him, maybe killed his friends, and find him to be a kid. I am sure many still live with the pain, the memories. My dad was there, he saw.

But at the end of the war, my dad ended up at a place called Bergen-Belsen, and was able to view firsthand the nature of the lowest of human depravity. Those teenagers that had been the enemy were also the ones who were dedicated to carry on this horror. My dad could talk about the pain and terror of battle. He could talk about being mistakenly bombed by a low flying package of Lancaster bombers as his regiment and several others were trapped in an open quarry. He could talk about how they didn't find remains of many men, so total was the devastation. He could not, however, speak even a word of what he had seen at Bergen-Belsen. Maybe it took a bit out of the sting of having to kill those teenage Nazis, but caused him even greater pain about the dark potential of man. And nowhere have I ever heard these enemy youth referred to as "child soldiers".

History has identified them as they were.

Omar Khadr is coming back with his ideology intact, and he will no doubt continue to espouse his vitriole against the western world, and the country which gave he and his family OPPORTUNITY…and I would submit they have let this great opportunity slip by. Oh but he has another opportunity !!!   The opportunity to sue the government, the Canadian people!!  A chance to fire one more shot, throw one more litigious grenade at the same country who gave his family a chance for true freedom. And of all the opportunities presented to he and his family, this is the one he takes.

If his "pain" is worth ten million dollars, then our country will go bankrupt trying to pay our veterans what they are owed on even a diminished comparative scale.

But they won't sue. They are Canadians. They love their country.

They hate war, because they have seen it. They know the value of peace, because they have paid for it.

I say we let these learned and educated men make the determination on Omar Khadr.

On a side note Charles, if you ever need to get picked up at Pearson, let me know. Menzies Sport trac "Adrenaline Edition" just doesn't cut it. I'll pick you up in my truck…a MAN'S truck…a 1996 H1 Hummer. The Humvee with nice seats and a stereo. Not a girly H2.  By comparison, The Menzoid's truck is actually an "Estrogen Edition".  And no Mcd's…go for man food. Beer and wings at the police club!!

Lastly, if you happen to be watching Coaches Corner on Hockey Night tonite, there may be footage from my dad's regiment playing hockey at their training camp in Sussex N.B. in 1941. My dad is on there. He died in 1980, but just maybe tonight I get to brag, "Hey..I watched my dad playing hockey on Hockey Night in Canada." How cool is that ??

Keep in touch.

With thanks from a fan and proud citizen of the Adler Nation,



Video of Sgt. Rob Cullen's dad on Coach's Corner. This is the first time this hockey footage from 1941 has ever been publicly viewed.


Twin brothers in arms

The heartbreaking reality of shipping out to Afghanistan


Thousands of pieces of e-mail march before my eyeballs every month. And I would love to be able to report all of these precious offerings tug at the heartstrings like the one that came to me on this Remembrance week from Steven Wittman in Cambridge, Ont.

But as my friend Lorrie Goldstein loves to say, “Let’s not kid the troops.” Some stories have more cardiac tug than others.

“Hello Charles,

“I listen to your show every day and have never written. I am writing today because I am having a tough day. You see … today my twin brother is part of a group of 2,600 leaving Quebec for the final tour in Afghanistan.

“As much as we joked around about what this day would be like … today the jokes stopped as we thought we would be able to call each other and talk one last time. As he is in lockdown today we never had that chance. The reality really hit me when he e-mailed me to say a copy of his will is in the mail in case something happened to him.

“The jokes stopped.

“The reality is … he could die.

“I know it’s not proper, and I know you may not be able to, but can you please read this or say something to the soldiers so they know we are thinking of them as I am sure they are as scared as we are.

“I wrote this poem for my twin brother and feel he needed to hear this…”

As much as we fight,

Tomorrow you fight for your life.

As much as we don’t see eye to eye,

Tomorrow you will want to forget what you see.

As much as we span our conversations,

Tomorrow you will yearn for just one word from home.

As much as we are seldom together,

Tomorrow we both wish we were.

As much as you think you are alone,

TODAY your twin is here as well

“PEACE BE WITH YOU and your brothers and sisters.

“Thank you Charles,

“Steven Wittman.”

Steven’s twin brother is Sgt. Shaughn Wittman. He is based out of Wainwright, Alta., and was this week preparing with his mates to depart from Quebec. Other details remain confidential.

We are not in the business of divulging details of routes. But we can tell you that this tour is not expected to be without some serious battlefield stress. The enemy is not unmotivated and our guys have some serious work to do before they are scheduled to pull out next year.

While Steve and Shaughn are twin brothers, the truth is all of us, regardless of where we stand on the politics of war, are brothers in arms.

We wish Sgt. Wittman and his mates good luck and God speed, and come home safely.

Your twin brother Steven is counting on it.

Dear Mr Singh


Dear mr. singh


Email to charles@charlesadler.com:

Experience and common sense tells me that what people can "get away" with saying usually has something of greater punch and teeth lying in their hearts. 

I am in no way inferring that you have beers with David Duke, but listening to your show and reading your "letters" would give me credence to lay a fairly large sized bet with Vegas that you would prefer your Canada all white, god-fearing, Queen-ass kissing, etc.  At least afford me the respect that I am not too far off in that remark.

I honestly don't care what kind of country you wish Canada to be–filled with Stephen Harpers, Mike Harrisites, etc.
Seriously. I don't care.  If you want to "your" country to live in some halcyon days of Ward Cleaver meets John Wayne meets John Birch Society…go for it!  Use all your resources of radio and print to let that message of insularity, fear, myopia, xeroxed whiteness packaged in outrage and disgust fly as free as you think this country is not.
Adler, I am waaaay more Canadian than you.  I played compettive hockey from the age of 7 until 42.  I saw Max Webster and April Wine in the 70's.  I own every single Tragically Hip album.  I drink Canadian beer.  I saw Team Canada play hockey in the 2006 Winter Olympics in Torino.  Shall I go on in checking off the Canadiana checklist for you?

Do I worship the Queen.  Hell no.  Do I worship Jesus Christ?  Jesus who?  Am I over 75?  heh…? 
You choose your questions for defining Canadian and I will choose mine. 
Keep those wondefully clever invectives veiled in free speech and us vs. "them" coming…I don't have XM Radio..and such, can't access comedy as freely as I would like to:)
Sunil Singh<—what kind of Kanadian name is that?????
P.S  Never play checkers when the real game being played is chess…


Mr Singh, I want to thank you for sending me this note. Your PS BS is what motivates me. You fancy yourself to be a chess player, I gather. I have a soft spot in my heart for chess.  As you may know from listening to the show, while watching the Ward Cleavers was part of my childhood experience, I was not unclear about the fact that my dad hadn't lived Ward's life. There was no episode of Leave it to Beaver where Ward is held in a Siberian forced labour camp for 3 years, watching men around him being executed or so depressed that they wish to be executed, and surviving by keeping his mind alive with his faith in God, his deep seemingly irrational desire to be reunited with his family, and his opportunity to play Chess. The rudimentary chess board and the rudimentary chess pieces helped to prevent his mind and soul from hitting the wall of atrophy.  Atrophy isn't a checkers term, Mr Singh. It's much more of a chess player's term. The tailor's son is fully bilingual, Mr Singh. Ask any talent headhunter in our industry whether yours truly's brand has as much appeal to the chess players as the checker players. I have a soft spot in my heart for Chess, Mr Singh. But if you don't mind me using a chess term – you remind me of a pawn. The pawns on the board as you know are to be used by those higher on the food chain. They're cannon fodder for the Royalty on the board. Are you royalty Mr Singh or just a pawn whose time on the board is limited? Your attempts to portray me, but more to the point, your attempts to portray citizens of Adler Nation as Old White Bigots makes you one more pseudo intellectual pawn in the contemporary liberal approach to the all political argument in Canada today. Sophomoric unresearched fluff. 

If you did your homework on my audience you would find out that in percentage terms, they're not uneducated or uncultured. And when it comes to minorities, in many parts of the country our brand has done better with minorities than it has with  Liberal Wasps who are the Kings and Queens of the Canadian Liberal Chessboard. Isn't that true Mr Singh? And to continue with our little Chess game you know that the Queen and King of Liberalism have a couple of knights. One of them is the Toronto Star and the other is that far more deadly knight, their knight in shining armor -THE CBC with its unique window on the world of Canadian education. It's unique entry into the minds of school teachers and the children we entrust with them. They like you Mr Singh, indoctrinated with the CBC vision of Canada - And by the way they don't play Chess with the history of Canada. No, it's not subtle and nuanced and Chess-like. It's all Checkers, Mr Sing.

The CBC sees Canada as a cold, cold country with a cold, cold heart , the bastion of a bigoted uncultured crew of white Christians mainly from the British Isles who sought to benefit themselves by exploiting as many minorities as they could, first the native Indians who they infected with venereal diseases, who they exploited by giving them trinkets for their animal skins and then these White Christians from the British Isles conquered the French, leaving their church in place and its ideology to keep the French down in place,  and then there were those immigrant waves from Europe and North Asia, and then much later South Asia and Africa, the Caribbean and then Central and  South America. These ugly small-hearted  White Christians from Great Britain looked down their noses at the East Europeans, gave them lots of land, but kept their opportunity to make money off the land as small as possible, opened the gates to the Chinese so they could turn them into virtual slave labourers, to work in agriculture and the railroads, closed the door in the late forties to a ship of Jews who looking for a place to find refuge from Adolf Hitler's ovens, discriminated against Blacks who managed  to run from slavery by taking the underground railroad all the way to Nova Scotia and in much more contemporary times brought in people from Caribbean countries like Jamaica and encouraged many of them to live in a part of Toronto where some were able to engage in predatory practices against the many, and the usual triangle of underclass behavior,  guns drugs and whores. 

Do I need to go further Singh? That's Contemporary Canadian Liberalism's view – The CBC view of Canada.  The Checkered view. They see Canada as the Story of Oppression. I see Canada as the Story of Opportunity. I totally understand where your letter is coming from. If you have been a victim of the oppressive Canadian Liberal establishment, been subjected to regular brain washing by their house organ, I totally get why you would feel alienated by my Dear Prime Minister letter and virtually everything else we do on this program.

I mean the CBC's perspective that all little Omar was doing was being David, firing his slingshot at the American Goliath and Amerikkka then tortured the boy into saying things that weren't true in order to spare his life, his life which was initially put in jeopardy by a man who was struggling with his identity, wanting to find a way to defeat the American Goliath and using some extreme methods to do so, a man by the way who was bailed out of a Pakistani jail by Jean Chretien, one of the Rooks on the Canadian Liberal chessboard. He rooked the Canadian taxpayers out of hundreds of thousands of dollars to give to the family of this misguided man who was just a victim of White Oppression.

Look, I have no trouble Mr Singh understanding why you would want to portray my listeners and yours truly as an old white bigot. That's your philosophical orientation. Now I don't want you to think that I haven't read your entire letter, because I have and I will be only too happy to read it again, now that I have commented on it and the audience can determine whether there is a lick of horse sense in here.

You start by writing, “Experience and common sense tells me that what people can ‘get away’ with saying usually has something of greater punch and teeth lying in their hearts.”

Getting away from who Mr Singh…is that code for at the moment I can speak my mind, but in your ideal version of a country, you would criminalize me…do you wish to criminalize my Dear Prime Minister letter? Do you wish to send me to jail Mr Singh? Since you’re so focused on the idea of my skin being white and the idea that the audience is too white, Do you think if you only allowed members of visible minorities to vote on your ideal Canada, do you think you could even get 10 percent of them to vote to put me in jail so that I could not speak my mind?  You say I have something of great punch and teeth lying in my heart? And, what would that be Mr Singh? Greater punch and teeth? Floss your own Teeth, Mr Singh. If you have a specific charge to make it, make it. We're grown-ups here.

You go on to say, “I am in no way inferring that you have beers with David Duke, but listening to your show and reading your "letters" would give me credence to lay a fairly large sized bet with Vegas that you would prefer your Canada all white, god-fearing, Queen-butt kissing, etc. At least afford me the respect that I am not too far off in that remark.” Mr Singh, I have afforded you lots of respect. I have not called you any names. I have told you that you are a victim of Liberal cultural malfeasance. You have fallen into the trap of believing that those of us who haven't been drinking the Kool-Aid are a bunch of David Dukes. Duke, the former Klansman who ran for Governor of Louisiana who appeared in my Toronto radio show on Martin Luther King Day. I scheduled him on that day for a reason. Contemporary liberals were aghast. They complained to the boss of the radio station at that time, telling him to silence his right wing shock jock which is how they referenced me. I invited them into the studio to listen to my interview with David Duke who became unglued on this Martin Luther King day, when I quoted liberally from Martin Luther King's speech and asked David Duke which parts were incorrect. His classic cool composure turned red hot as he became unraveled. He scampered off the radio stage like a cockroach that just had experienced the disinfectant of light. I said Goodbye Mr Duke and played Martin Luther King's I Have a Dream speech. I then asked members of the Liberal establishment of Toronto if they wished to participate in a discussion with me once the speech was concluded. They turned me down flat. They left the stage with tails tucked between their spindly little legs. After the speech I took call after call from Torontonians most of whom were of Jamaican heritage thanking me for the dismembering of Duke and the playing of I Have a Dream today.

Mr Singh, I have a dream today. I dream that you will listen to this show with the open-mind that I am sure you claim to have.

I'm not looking to check you or check mate you.

Our stated aim here is to Engage, Enlighten and Inspire.

I have a dream that someday you will not see my audience as a narrow-minded people who want to force Stephen Harper down your throat or Jesus Christ or any of the icons that you are taking cheap checker shots at. I know that you're a better man than how you come across in your attempt to bring a good man down. I forgive you for being a pawn of Liberalism. You're so surrounded by it. You're like a lobster in the pot, as Jacques Parizeau used to say. Just want to address one more thing, Mr Singh. Your name at the end of your email. Sunil Singh. And, you ask sarcastically what kind of Kanadian name is that???? You then put four question marks beside the word Canadian which you spell with a K. I am not foggy on why you are firing that little spit ball. I said in the tail of end of my Letter to the Prime Minister that the Khadrs had already taken too much from Canada, that this wasn't their country. It was our country and that Canada was spelled CANADA, not Khanada. There is no code in there, Mr Singh. I was crystal clear in saying that I felt the Khadrs had used us as an ATM for years and it had to stop – this country isn't their personal property. It belongs to everyone. The country is spelled CANADA, not KHANADA, means it's everyone's Canada not their personal fiefdom. Now Mr Singh, you can imply that I don't say what I mean and don't mean what I say. But it's a very thin blade of grass that you wish to stand on. As far as your name is concerned I see it as no less Canadian than MacDonald, or Cartier. Most Canadians don't judge other Canadians by names on birth certificates. You may have noticed my last name is not similar to any of the Fathers of Confederation. It's about your last name. It's about your character. It's about what you value.

One of the things I value about Democracy is dissent. I don't want to jail you for yours. I want to welcome you, as I have today and will again if you choose to come through the door. Thanks for your email, Mr Singh. Someday we may be able to meet somewhere, have a glass of beer and play a little chess. We're living in the greatest country in the world, Mr Singh. A toast. To the Queen. 

Dear Prime Minister

Listen here:



By Charles Adler

I don't have to introduce myself to you. You know me as well as any of the citizens of Adler Nation. And you've read and heard my thoughts about the things that matter to me and why they matter. You would be the last person on earth to be surprised that I am disappointed in the extreme decision that you've made on Omar Khadr, someone who unfortunately was born in this country to a mom who has done nothing over the years but insult everything you and I both stand for. When Oh Canada is played at those hockey games we love to watch, our hearts pound like a drum and our blood runs hot. But as you know, the Maple Leaf that fuels our furnace gives hers an arctic chill. She is a Canadian by convenience.

She unwillingly abandoned her land for this land because her husband wanted to freeload from here in order to support their wretched cause, which is NUKE Western civilization as we know it, to plunge the world into the darkness of some tortured brutal version of an eastern religion so brutal that men are afraid to shave, women are afraid to show their faces, a place where there is no music, no dance, no trace of Judaeo Chistian values, no rule of law, not our kind of law that they are now using to blindfold us…The Khadrs fondest fantasy is a world which moves from Oh Canada to NO Canada. That was and still is remorselessly their Cause. The Khadrs took Baby Omar out of this country when he was just a baby, feeling nothing but contempt for our flag and our values. They joined up with the dark side in Afghanistan, befriended the Mass Murderer Bin Laden and his ilk. Their primary interest over there was not to help the people of Afghanistan who 152 Canadian Forces members have died for. Her family was there trying to kill as many of our allies as possible and don't kid yourself for one moment. The Khadrs would have been only too happy to kill as many Canadian soldiers as possible. None would have been spared, a bullet, a grenade or a knife. Poor, poor Omar who deprived one unarmed medic of his life and deprived another soldier of his eye, has complained to his government-paid lawyer that the Americans who revived his murderous body, deprived him of sleep. How much sleep has he deprived the widow of Sgt Speer and her kids? Many more hours of sleep. He deprived a husband and a father of his life. And now he counts on Canadians to get weepy for his story and sleepy while he raids our treasure in the name of the Rule of Law, a law their cause would happily blow up. Blowing things up is what pleasures them the most. And their fondest desire would be to blow us all up. Every time one of those road side explosives that Omar used to assemble blows up a Canadian soldier, a Canadian family grieves. But the Khadr family celebrates.

Prime Minister, I don't know because you've never shared with me whether you have tried to hold your nose and purchase this foul smelling dead rat of an argument that Omar was just a child victimized by his father, not really doing what he was doing because he wanted to, just a child soldier. The U-N says so and the Canadian Supreme Court has rubber stamped it so. I and millions of other Canadians say, “So what?” We don't need a bunch of hooligans on expense accounts at the United Nations or a small gathering of lawyered-up lawyers in Robes and Ermine to tell us the difference between a thug and a child, between a young man who is doing something not of his own volition and one like Khadr making and planting bombs enthusiastically.

We know what child soldiers are. We know about all those families in Africa where mothers are raped and fathers are torn from limb to limb, hacked to death and their little girls are murdered and their little boys are kidnapped, ripped out of the arms of their fathers and mothers and taken away to be turned into murderous monsters performing the same ugly deeds that their captors have performed. And we know that in many cases, governments represented by the United Nations not only condone but actively participate in helping this kind of activity. These same governments wish to judge us on how we treat Omar Khadr? Are we supposed to have our values informed by these barbarians? What does that make us? Groucho Marx once said I never want to belong to a club that would have me as a member. It's considered a classic laugh line. Prime Minister, there is nobody on this side of the microphone laughing at the idea that my prime minister is taking seriously the judgment of that club of bottom feeders which I would happily see dismembered. Writing cheques every year. They cash millions of dollars every year. Hard earned Canadian Tax Dollars. To some in this country that's the price of membership in the international community. On the Canadian streets I played road hockey on, when some of our dads had to pay protection money to protect their little businesses from being ripped off or burned down, we called it Extortion. We didn't respect the goons running the racket. But we understood the consequences. And now these goons who run the United Nations tell the greatest country on earth that we have a solemn moral duty to rehab Omar Khadr. We Canadians don't take our moral cues from an organization that buried its moral compass in the jungles of Rwanda, that shot up its moral compass in the mountains of Yugoslavia, that defecates daily on its moral compass in Darfur.

But it's not just the United Nations that tries to sell our citizens on the fairy tale of Poor Poor Omar Child Soldier. There's also that other high priestess of Morality. Heather Mallick, part of that same crowd that trashes you Prime Minister at every opportunity, the ones who like to say behind your back that you're just a front man for right wing rubes, people with little education, born again Christians, and Holocaust Deniers. Yes, her moral highness who highly approves of your decision to allow Omar Khadr back into this country wrote this in recent days about the trial:

The last time the name “Speer” and “war crimes” shared the same courtroom was in Nuremberg in 1946. Then it was Albert Speer on trial for being awfully good at running the Nazi war machine that killed tens of millions.

That's Heather Mallick, Prime Minister, exploiting the good name of a good man destroyed by Omar Khadr, exploited the good name of Sgt Christopher Speer, a victim of a war crime as a device to introduce the name of a War Criminal who was one of the Architects of the Nazi War Machine that killed tens of thousands of Canadian servicemen. You have visited some of their graves in France, Prime Minister. You have walked on those beaches in Northern France where good Canadian kids bled and died for Heather Mallick's right to introduce the name of a monstrous war criminal in order to diminish the death of a victim of a war crime, in order to compare our allies to the Nazis and to the Taliban and she is in favour of your decision Prime Minister. I am not trying to convict you of Guilt by Association. I am asking you as a Canadian citizen to please make decisions that have the ring of moral justice for the victims of Khadr and not his fan club. Prime Minister, I don't want to end this letter on a sour note, and not because I want to be kind. But because I don't want to be ungrateful for the many good things that you have done especially for our forces. So I want to attach to this letter another letter written to me a few weeks ago by a citizen of Adler Nation, Rob Cullen, a police officer in York Region.


Last night, while working in my usual role as a police platoon sergeant, we were called to a VSA . . . vital signs absent, in the basement apartment of a house just north of Keswick. 

The victim was 78 years old. A retired firefighter, he had served from 1959 to 1989 with the North York Fire Department. It no longer exists, having been enveloped by the Toronto Fire Department. The victim had succumbed to a heart attack. 

His small basement apartment was very tidy. Upon the walls were tons of framed photos. Pieces of history from 1940s and ’50s baseball, hockey, entertainers, and horse racing. Certificates of gratitude from the North York Fire Department, the City of Toronto, and the pigeon racing club he belonged to after he retired. He had a very organized collection of 78 rpm records from the ’30s, ’40s and ’50s. Tommy Dorsey, Duke Ellington, Ella, Fats Waller . . . and he had the turntables to play them. The last album he played was Frank Sinatra. 

He was very well read. Books of history lined his bookshelves, with an emphasis on Ontario and especially Toronto history. His specialty was the Avro Arrow . . . the huge limited framed edition print on his bedroom wall reflected his interest. Maybe sometime, somewhere, he saw the world’s greatest plane fly. He was a huge supporter of our troops. An article from the Toronto Sun about the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion sat on his desk. Pictures of cops and firefighters were found here and there.  

But as we found out, he had no next-of-kin. As the sergeant, it was my job to notify them. I had no one to visit, no one to see. No nieces or nephews, no sons or daughters. He was truly alone. 

Satisfied with what I had seen, I left the detectives and constable on scene to await the coroner, and have the body removed to its final rest. As I walked down the driveway, the constable followed me out and said, “Hey Sarge, wait up! Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure. Whatdya need?”  

“Sarge, they’re gonna carry this guy out in a plastic bag. All the neighbours are watching. He was a firefighter for 30 years. Sarge he’s got no one . . . we can’t let him go like that. Can you find us a Canadian flag, so that when they take him out of the house, we can lay it on the gurney when they roll him to the hearse?”

7:30 on a Tuesday night. Where to find a flag? . . . Yup, the Dollar Store. The only thing open and, sure enough, they had one. Contrary to popular opinion, not everything at the dollar store costs one dollar. At this point, the cost was not really an issue. I bought the flag, and took it back to the scene.

The coroner released the body, and firefighter Robert Wilson was brought up from his apartment. Before he left the door, the flag was draped in its full glory across him, to honour the life of a man who was willing to give it at any time. For the 50 feet it took to take him to the removal vehicle, the neighbours watched in silent respect. The people from the funeral home tucked the flag secure and removed it with him. I expect it will be buried with him, too.  

For a short time, the time it takes to walk a body 50 feet, he wasn’t alone. He was a firefighter, a hero. He was a Canadian. All it took was a flag to show it.

Maybe it’s time we find our heroes before their only honour comes from a dollar store.

Signed Rob Cullen


Prime Minister, I don't think you need Sgt Cullen to help you find your moral compass on the Khadr Decision. When it comes to Canadian values you don't need him or me to tell you that we are good country. But I just wanted to remind you on behalf of so many Canadians who contact me that We are a Firefighter Wilson country not an Omar Khadr country. Robert Wilson never sued the Canadian government for the service he provided lovingly and honourably. Omar Khadr is suing us for 10 million dollars and that's just the opening number.  We should be trying him for treason, but he is playing us for chumps. Prime Minister, I ask you to put a torch to take Firefighter Wilson's hose and douse that Child Soldier fantasy and instead focus on Child Canadians, real Canadians who want to grow up in a land where they too can look at the same flag that drapes the boxes of our heroes and have the same feelings. The so-called Rule of Law in this country should never have become for the Khadrs what a fire hydrant is for dogs. And this country should never be used as an ATM for murderers and thieves. I don't claim to love this country any more than you do Prime Minister. But I am asking you for the love of Mike, on behalf of the Rob Cullens and the Firefighter Wilsons and so many others who have made so many sacrifices for this country, to please reverse your decision to open up our borders and our wallets one more time to the Khadr Family. Our beloved Canada, Prime Minister, is spelled C-A-N-A-D-A, not K-H-A-N-A-D-A.  It's not their country Prime Minister. They've already taken too much.

Thank you for reading this Prime Minister. God Bless you, Laureen and your children, and God Bless Canada.