Don’t blame Canada

Hey Obama, we didn't get you in this mess, don't tax us to fix it


Last Updated: February 18, 2011 9:56am

I am not inside Barack Obama’s big brain. So I have no idea whether the American president spends more than five minutes every 10 years thinking about Canada.

Having spent five years living in the U.S., I had the impression the average American spent less than five minutes per lifetime thinking about the “true north strong and free.” If he thinks about Canada at all, Obama should withdraw his insulting proposal to charge Canadians $5.50 a head for visiting America.

Memo to President Obama: “Hey Mr. President, the global financial crisis was created by dumb U.S. government policy, irresponsible U.S. interest rate policy and U.S. financial witchcraft.

“To be blunt, Canada wasn’t on the mattress when this baby was conceived. Why are you forcing us to share the incubator? Haven’t we done enough already? Hasn’t our economy alone suffered enough collateral damage from the Washington-Wall St. stink bomb? Haven’t we been helpful by giving you access to millions of litres of ethical oil?

“And what about all the hundreds of millions we are on the hook for to help your government bail out General Motors? Did we really have a choice? Had we chosen not to play ball, you would have turned the North American Free Trade Agreement into toilet paper.

“Sir, if you are honestly thinking of penalizing Canada for American mistakes, please remember the words of that great American songwriter Billy Joel: ‘We didn’t the start the fire.’ ”

Now if you’re a Canadian left-winger, you may be seething because I’m not lap dogging the Great Obama. But you need to grateful the Canadian head tax idea wasn’t conceived by the president you will always think of as the runt of the American litter, George W. Bush. Yes, he’s the one who, in your opinion, stole the election from the planet’s best friend, Al Gore.

Bush is the one who you believe would never have become president had the lock on the White House door not been picked by conservative Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. Bush is the dude who, in your opinion, gave democracy a bad name especially when he said he wanted Arabs to have a democracy in the cradle of civilization, Iraq.

Remember how willing you were to listen to the theory that Bush was so insecure with the thought of having to win re-election legitimately that he cooked up a conspiracy to murder thousands of Americans on Sept. 11, 2001. In order to do it, he had to use his daddy’s connections with the bin Laden family.

What you call history may be a fractured fairy tale to the rest of us. But is there any disgusting or barbaric theory you would not fall for if it was peddled as just another George W. Bush-induced nightmare? If you’re a left-winger, you have to be thrilled Bush isn’t the one with flypaper palms trying to pick up as many Canadian $5 bills as he can. If this head tax was a Bush idea, you would want to decapitate him.

Come on. Admit it to Uncle Chuck. Aren’t there times like this when you really miss your favourite enemy?

This is not a Pretzel. This is Canada.

Listen here: 

Adler – feb 9th

Folks, here's the deal. As Canadians we have some choices here. We can continue to simply roll over and play dead.

If someone or some group wants to impose their ideas on our schools or our courts, we can roll over and play dead, pretend that they aren't bothering us, they aren't disrespecting us, they aren't changing us. It doesn't matter whether it's wearing head coverings in courts or for driver’s licenses, not wanting to participate in gym or music classes, it doesn't really matter what it is. We don't need the explanations anymore as to why someone is imposing their value system on us because if we just keep accommodating, if we just keep on allowing the shoving to continue, there is no more Canadian value system. How can you call it a value, if you don't defend it?

In Canada, we have wanted to treat people as equals, not separates. So many of these stupid politically correct  ideas date back to the days of Trudeau and are still strong today, the messengers being mostly academics and  political left-of-centre media types and left-of-centre so-called progressive politicians, who sell us their politically-correct cargo on the basis of National unity. It's time to call B.S. on that. It's been one long tedious counterproductive cerebral gym class. Bending over backwards and every other way, turning ourselves into human pretzels. This is a country. Not a pretzel factory. This is a country with millions of strong individuals and families and businesses and it's time to make it our business to stand up for strength and unity. It's time to call out those who want to keep us perpetually weak and disunited. Canada is one country, not pretzel nation, not ghetto nation, not an abomination, which is what unfortunately we could become if we just keep on allowing anybody in the name of their religion or their culture of their so-called progressive idea for crashing our common sense, our common values and common feeling about what is true and just and practical. I want to live in a country where I don't have to apologize for having my own mind and when someone wants to impose some piece of mindlessness on me, I get to say, “Sorry Sir – this is Canada. Sorry Ma’am – this is Canada. And you're not doing this to my family. My family is Canada and you're not disrespecting my family.” If we can send our best young men to die in Afghanistan for the human dignity of a foreign people, we surely should have the backbone in this country to stand up for our own people.

This is not a Pretzel. This is a Country. This is a Canada, a land that we love and respect and defend. We sing the words. We stand on guard for thee. Our hearts skip a beat when we hear and sing the words. You know why? Because we believe in them. Don't ever stop believing in Canada. Please don't ever stop believing in the greatest country on Earth.

Words from Sergeant Ryan Russell’s Widow

Listen here:

Adler – feb 7th


When Toronto Police Sgt. Ryan Russell was killed in the line of duty last month, the entire city mourned. It was a sad story made even more tragic by the fact the 11-year veteran left behind a beautiful young wife and an adorable two-year-old son.

However, when Russell’s widow, Christine, spoke for the first time at his funeral, her strength was so evident that she managed to make us all feel better — like everything was somehow going to be OK.

Now this woman’s strength shines through again in an incredibly touching letter published in the February issue of the Toronto Police Association’s magazine, Tour of Duty. It’s meant to be a thank you to her late husband’s fellow officers but Christine’s words also offer a heart-breaking glimpse at the moment she learned the love of her life had been run down by a stolen snowplow:


You never think this day would happen. Sometimes I thought about it just before falling asleep, because I was at home safe while he was out working the shifts that leave us all so vulnerable to these worrisome thoughts. But those are just silly thoughts, a last moment to ponder before drifting off.

I honestly never worried about Ryan’s job. I knew he was well trained, I knew he worked in teams, I knew he knew what he was doing out there. I admired him for being a Police Officer. I respected the job. I knew when we got married that I was marrying a cop. Marriage to a cop comes with many days, nights, weekends, holidays, and special occasions spent alone. I knew that, I got that. I also worked shifts, so we both understood the importance of making the most of our time together.

When you think about the "day" it happens, you get this visualization of sorrowful Police Officers knocking on your door to break your heart and deliver the tragic news. Unfortunately it was not that Hollywood moment, it was much worse than anything Hollywood could produce.

Ryan was on day shift January 12th. I heard him showering around 4 a.m., and as usual I fell right back asleep. I was up and out of the house by 7 a.m. I dropped off Nolan at daycare, and then began my usual drive into work. The roads were in terrible condition, so much snow and poor visibility.

My SUV struggled to make it out of our neighbourhood onto Kingston Road. I listened to the radio for updates on road conditions and accidents. I heard the news that a Police Officer had been injured by a snowplow, but thought nothing other than it must have been a vehicular collision.

Finally I made it onto the Gardiner and I called Ryan and left him a message that Nolan was dropped off and the roads were terrible and I was going to be late for work. Not 5 seconds later my phone rang, blocked caller ID, I naturally assumed it was Ryan calling me back.

The voice on the other end was not Ryan though. It was his friend and colleague, Tom Steeves. I just started blabbing, telling Tom, Ryan was on day shift and he had court today, and try him on his cell. I got the awkward pauses and sighs and then Tom asked me where I was? I said I was driving to work, why? Tom said where are you exactly? I knew from that moment … I don’t know how or why, but I just knew.

I exited at Spadina in a panic and tried to figure out how to flag down a cop for help. Tom begged me to pull over and wait, saying they would come to me. I just kept driving focused on finding St. Mike’s hospital.

I hung up on Tom and somehow I was able to continue driving, while barely seeing through my tears, and made the dreaded Hollywood calls. First call was to my mom in Peterborough. I told her Ryan was hurt and she needed to come to Toronto right away. Second call was to Ryan’s parents in Florida. I told Ryan’s dad, Glenn, he needed to come home, get on a plane and come home now. I found out later, strangely enough, both my mom, and Ryan’s dad had been watching CP24 in two different countries, at the same time, and happened to see the same footage, and they both knew that Ryan was more than hurt.

I finally pulled over at Queen and Yonge and waited. I could see St. Mike’s hospital one block away. I wanted to run there as fast as I could but my legs would not move.

Finally I saw a cruiser coming for me. The Sergeant who drove me one block to St. Mike’s could not look into my eyes. I asked him if Ryan was ok. He kept his eyes forward while the tears poured down his face. I knew it was fatal.

I was swarmed by a sea of high-ranking Police members as they whisked me through the emergency unit and into a small room. The lights in the room were dim, and I was forced to sit down. Finally the Hollywood moment …

After Chief Blair informed me Ryan had been killed, all I could ask was what Ryan was doing out there? Ryan’s a Sergeant, why was he out there? How did this happen? Ryan spent many dangerous years at Guns and Gangs, if it was going to happen during his career it would have been then not now, not as a Sergeant.

I remember crying but then the tears just stopped. I think my emotions went from shock, to grief, to disbelief, to anger, to resentment, to frustration and finally to self-pity. It was at the self-pity point (not even 20 minutes after being informed of my loss) that I was asked to consent to donate Ryan’s eyes. Ryan’s eyes. The most beautiful baby-blue eyes. His perfect 20/20 vision eyes. They told me it was the only part of him that could be salvaged. The most beautiful part was the only part. I immediately consented and I immediately began to feel better.

Ryan’s body was taken to the Coroners, and I was taken home. I was never allowed to hold his hand or kiss his face. Evidence needed to be preserved.

Family, friends, colleagues, neighbours, all began to fill up my house, all there to comfort me. Somehow I was fine, somehow I was comforting them?

From that point on I found strength. I was surrounded constantly by people who cared. I was assisted constantly by the Police Association. I was supported constantly by the Police Service and the public.

All of Ryan’s courage and bravery jumped into my soul and helped me get through the next week.

The visitation was overwhelming but I insisted on greeting every single person who wished to offer their sympathy, or gratitude, or last respects. I did it all for Ryan.

On the morning of Ryan’s funeral service, I was able to hold his hand one last time and kiss him goodbye. I told him I would make him proud and raise our son to be just like him.

As we followed the hearse, I took every moment in. Citizens outside the funeral home lining the streets, opposing traffic stopping, on ramps blocked off, motorists saluting, the vacated highways, the peaceful journey into Toronto along the Highway of Heroes.

We staged in front of 52 Division. The bagpipes began, and slowly the crowds marched. I saw the faces, the tears, the hands over the hearts, the saluting I heard the K9’s crying, I heard the sounds of silence in the busiest city in Canada.

It was all for Ryan. It was all from you.

Thank you for allowing me to tell you about the day you think will never happen.

Thank you for being brave and for being supportive.

Thank you for serving and protecting.

Thank you.

You are all heroes in life, and remember, there will be an answer, let it be.

With the utmost respect,
Christine Russell

Canada’s courts are softer on women


Last Updated: January 28, 2011 2:00am

No, I wasn’t surprised at what a citizen of Adler Nation posted on my Facebook page.

And if you knew what Bill was posting about, neither would you. Here’s the post:

“This is great. Let’s all get drunk, take some prescription medication and take my beater and plow into everyone on the street. The courts will set me free and maybe I can claim damages too.

“Thank you Manitoba justice for protecting the criminals as usual. She must just be laughing at home right now and having a toast to the judge. This would never happen to a male.”

To Read More Click HERE.