Bullet Points For A Thursday Afternoon

I’ve not written anything in months. My excuse is I’m not a professional writer. But here we are, midday, and I’m between projects and facing one I frankly don’t want to work on. So I’ll procrastinate in the best possible way: a LIST OF OPINIONS.

– Cannabis has been legalised in Canada. I’m pretty sure this calls for a sermon series through the book of Judges or something. If you know what I’m talking about there, congrats, you’re one of like seven people. Anyways, it’s probably for the best, question mark? I dunno. We’ll have to see how it all shakes out. At least we’re not going to be putting folks in prison anymore for this stuff, so this is one less stick to beat the disenfranchised with.
– I put quantum computing and nuclear fusion in the same tech bucket. Doesn’t work right now, it might in the future, and if it does, it won’t be what they promised. And it will be horrifically complicated.
– We’ve long past the point where anyone can be expected to know about or hold reasonable opinions about anything. Doesn’t stop folks from trying, though. Gotta talk to the experts, and even then…
– The last game I really enjoyed was Prison Architect. Before that it was Minecraft. That said, PA is too shallow and Minecraft is now a bit too much.

Be Grateful

I have a long blob of text in me. Not for right now, but at some point. You know how these things are… They boil away on the back burner somewhere until the pot overflows and a blog post falls out and the metaphor stops working.

Anyways. I’m a huge whatever-the-opposite-of-a-fan is of Jordan Peterson but one thing he said got me thinking. Usually when this happens it’s an unproductive rabbit hole of “oh my goodness Jordan Peterson is either a moron or an evil genius”, but this one’s actually ok. I think. You tell me.

He was talking about gratefulness. Now, the context he used it in was this sort of trip-back-to-the-50s bullpuckey where people who try to make society better are ungrateful for what they already have (which… I mean… just think about that for a picosecond). It’s a fair point, though, we definitely should be grateful for what we’ve inherited in this society. The boat floats. It’s good.

But I don’t think we should set our aim on scary secret postmodern cabals in dusty back rooms of French universities who somehow improbably control the levers of an entire generation’s thought. I think we should aim at ourselves.

We’ve entered a really sort of toxic time in North America. Yeah, Trump, all that, but he’s a symptom. He’s just the discoloured surface of the abcess.

Has everyone forgotten that we all exist together? In a society? Part of a collective whole?

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve sat on a freshly built deck larger than my house that has an outdoor kitchen larger than my actual kitchen backing on to a private lake and had the people that own this wonderful place tell me they’re taxed to death.

Like… what?

(I can actually tell you how many times: It was once.)

I’ve heard this exact phrase so many times in the last few months: “Taxed to death”. You’re sitting on top of this massive pile of achievement and trying to say you want to give less back?

I say “give back” because that’s important.

Look, you worked hard. I get that. You’ve told me. I get that you’re in Cancun five times a year because you worked hard and you want to enjoy the fruit of your labour. But lots of people work hard, all around the world, and most of them get nowhere much. You’re a sample size of one.

You can’t trust your own gut on these things. Your gut wants to tell you that your success is because you worked hard, and your failures are because of bad situations or a thousand other things. You so desperately want to buy into that hero narrative that our culture (and by “our culture” I mean “the United States”) wants to sell you, and you haven’t thought about it long enough to realise that no, wait, it’s not just me.

You can’t be grateful for something you think you never got.

But you did.

The roads. The workers. The regulations. The healthcare. The police. The stability. The peace. All this stuff, and so, so much more. It doesn’t happen by accident. (And to Mr Peterson, respectfully, a lot of it build by the social reformers that you would have railed against were you born 75 years earlier.)

You worked hard. But you didn’t work hard in a vacuum. And you were lucky. Let’s just face facts. You were born in a time, in a place, had the right idea at the right time, and were able to execute the idea. Maybe you failed a bunch and eventually it paid off.

It’s find to want money to be spent wisely. It’s fine to want responsible governance. But what you don’t get to do is pretend your deserve to keep all your marbles and go home.

Be grateful.

Pay your damn taxes.

In The Beginning

I wish the Bible came with an introduction called “How To Read The Bible”. I really do. But it doesn’t. So we end up reading it a whole bunch of different ways, ways that we sometimes don’t even realise.

It’s important to remember that every act of reading the Bible is an act of interpretation. If you read a passage and say “God said it, I read it, it’s a science textbook”, you’re interpreting. You might feel like you’re taking the simplest possible approach, but it’s still interpretation.

When you read it, when you interpret it, you bring something to the table. You bring yourself, your worldview, your biases, your baggage, your affiliations, all that stuff. It’s a fish-in-water sort of thing. You don’t really feel it until you’re swimming upstream.

I’ve thought a lot about this. I mean, really thought. If you look at the posts on this blog (few as they are of late), a bunch of them are about scripture, about how to deal with the text.

Because we have to deal with the text. We have to deal with what it says and what our culture says. We have to deal with what is says and what science says. We have to deal with what it says and what our experience says. We have to deal with it because a simple (though I would argue not simple at all) reading of the text brings us up against some really hard stuff. We end up conflicted about reality.

Take the creation narrative.

Let’s touch that third rail for a minute.

The Bible starts with this (to our eyes) recounting of how the world was created. But do keep in mind that word “how”. I’ll come back to that later. Read it literally. God created the world in 6 days and rested on the 7th. It’s not ambiguous. The timeline is a little confusing and some of it seems a bit out of order, but put that to the side for now. 6 days, 6 literal days. This is the simplest possible reading.

This brings us up against some facts about the world. The world is incredibly old. The fossil record, sediment records, rock, ice, all this stuff tells us the world is incredibly old. We see a history full of starts and stops in the story of life, blossomings and extinctions, all over the course of billions of years.

The story that science tells and and the story that Genesis tells us are in direct contradiction.

Here’s where you choose your side. Either you keep your Bible story or you keep your science story. You don’t get to do both. I mean, there have been lots of attempts to synthesise the two sides, but most of them fail the laugh test (a thousand years are like a day, anyone?).

This is an incredibly dangerous place to be. It’s a place of turning away. For many people, if you must–as the fundamentalist would say–accept the word of the Lord over the word of Men, the Bible ends up being the thing that goes. You go to university or simply get curious about the world and you find yourself swamped in evidence that the fundamentalist’s word of the Lord is in fact a bunch of fairy tales.

I’m sure some people can live in this tension. But most people don’t like to. I don’t like to.

For a long time I looked for a way out. I listened to a lot of stuff by hucksters like Ken Ham, people so desperate to reinterpret the world in light of their reading of the Bible, they will literally misrepresent the laws of thermodynamics.

I realise a lot of people will part ways with me here, but I felt that there was an intellectual dishonesty in denying the truth so I could accept the Truth of the Bible. I felt like all truth must be God’s truth.

And I thought about this for a long time.

I’m not in fundamentalist circles anymore. I’m not buffered by a group of like-minded people who can come alongside me and help me, tell me I’m part of the misunderstood minority who know the Truth, that the world is simply out to destroy God with their theories.

One day I started reading up on different approaches to Creation. Specifically the Roman Catholic approach. Now, being open to considering the Roman Catholic approach to anything was enough pretty crazy, considering I’m out of the Reformed church, which has a sort of Luke-Skywalker-in-the-dark-side-cave relationship with the RCC. That aside, it was incredibly refreshing to see an organization affirming (after some waffling, sure) that the truth we see in the world is God’s truth. That the story told in Genesis is not at odds with the story in the soil.

But how?

See, I was bringing so much of myself and my capital-M Modern worldview to the text. I wanted it to be true like a textbook should be true, not like a “true because it shows dragons can be beaten” true. I projected that desire onto the Bible.

And just to be very, very clear, this is not something Bible demands. The dichotomy between what I see and what I read is no dichotomy at all. This is a thing of my own making, a thing created by our collective desire to out-world the world, to out-fact the fact-finders. It is a constraint I put on the text, a dangerous and unnecessary constraint, I test of faith that no one should have to pass.

I’ve still got that inside of me, though. You grow up a certain way, you get conditioned a certain way, you can’t just think yourself out of. (I don’t like swearing on tv, but not because I feel some strong objection to it, but because part of me thinks “my mom would hate this”.) Reading the Bible a different way feels like a cheat, sometimes. I know it’s not. Trying to honour the text in what it was meant to be, in the context it was written, for the people it was written to, to take that and read it into my own life is a wonderful gift, a valuable thing.

But somewhere in the back of my head is that little fundamentalist golem who tut tuts while spinning fine guilt out of scriptural hay.

Anyways.

So how do I read the Bible? Well, I try to approach it by asking the text itself what it’s supposed to mean. Not to me. But to the people who it was written to. We’re talking a tribe or nation that didn’t have a scientific method, a group of people with a completely different cosmology–if you can call it that–and worldview, suffused as they were in the creation myths of other people. God chooses to speak into that context.

The word wasn’t written to me. For me, yes. But not to me. That’s a critical difference.

The text doesn’t describe how God created the world, not really. It doesn’t talk about processes. It says God speaks the world into existence, creating a world that he can dwell in, a sort of temple that he can inhabit. It’s not meant to describe process. It’s meant to describe purpose. What is the purpose of the world? As a resting place for the glory of God.

This isn’t an emptying of the text, some kind of liberal scholastic way of pouring out all the good stuff and filling it up with evolutionary nonsense. It’s a way to allow the spirit of God to use the text to move us thousands of years after the text was written, in our own unique context, as fish in our own kind of water. Because we need that; we are immersed in a world that only cares about process, drowning in its own materialism, unable to answer “why”. It’s all there in this magnificent prologue, the creation of a world to be a place inhabited by God.

We see that fulfilment of that in person and work of Jesus Christ, in the promise of reconciling to himself all things, of his victory over death and the grave, of his kingdom victorious.

This isn’t kicking out the bricks from under the rest of the Bible. The opposite: It brings forward a new dimension. It allows us to participate in the original intention of the text. The creation narrative stood in opposition to the creation myths of the surrounding nations at the time–you needed 10 gods to do this stuff, check out Yahweh–and it stands in opposition the spirit of our age as well. Your philosophy is nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere, everybody’s going to die, come watch TV? Have I got news for you!

You’re not doing God any favours by denying that he can use a process like evolution to achieve his purposes. I mean, think about the Bible. It was written and assembled by a bunch of scribes, anonymous authors, redactors, etc. And yet we have no issue saying that scripture is a product of inspiration, because of course God can guide those many people, God can inhabit that process of assembly. Or, more recently, think about how we arrived at the Bible as we know it now: A series of people sat in judgement of the various texts and tried to discern which ones were inspired. We don’t think about that too often, but there’s God again, inhabiting a process (which a sizeable portion of the church disagrees on, I might add).

I’m going to close this out by quoting William J. Webb: I might be wrong. I don’t think I am, but I’m human and I might just be wrong. I think I stand on the side of an emerging consensus seeking to free the Bible from the stranglehold of fundamentalism (and I don’t mean to be antagonistic if you see “fundamentalist” as a badge of honour) in the west. But, you know, I could be wrong.

Blindingly obvious

Assume there are infinite universes. You don’t actually have to believe this. Just… imagine. Infinite universes with infinite possibilities. We’ll call it the multiverse.

Let’s imagine we map all the moments in the history of our world to separate universes. So what happened five minutes ago? Different universe. And it might as well be, right? We can’t access the past in any real way other than looking at history and memories.

Take a universe from, say, 500 years ago. It’s not super important when, but a few hundred years seems good for illustrative purposes. It’s quite a bit different. Imagine being able to go from this universe to that universe and have a conversation with a someone. Anyone. Doesn’t matter who.

Think about all the things that are blindingly obvious to you. The earth goes around the sun. Stuff is made of smaller stuff. Time is relative. Democracy is the best form of government. Free speech is sacred. Whatever. Stuff you think is kind of axiomatic. Imagine explaining these things to that someone.

How might that go?

Well, probably not very well. Things aren’t blindingly obvious instantly. In fact they’re not even blindingly obvious from culture to culture in the here and now, especially when you move away from rigorously provable things like “the earth goes around the sun”.

Now imagine someone comes from a future universe to talk to you. They start telling you stuff that seems blindingly obvious to them.

How might that go?

Again, probably not well.

Why is that?

Dying is worse

It’s important to remember that solution to a lot of problems looks like enabling the problem. It’s OK to acknowledge this. It’s OK to be frustrated by this. But it’s important to not get locked into a “pure” morality—or, to put it another way, it’s critical to be flexible about solutions.

That’s not to say we can’t disagree about these things. Of course we can! But don’t disagree reflexively (don’t use the moral muscles you’re used to). Disagree reflectively. Think about whether or not there might be something else at play when talking about problems and their solutions. Is there a deeper problem? Can it be fixed or treated or dealt with in a way that seems unintuitive?

Take racism. Just for right now let’s put systemic racism aside and use the common “discriminating on the basis of race” definition.

We can all agree that discriminating on the basis of race is wrong. But then aren’t affirmative action programs racist?

We shouldn’t be afraid to say… yes. They are. They are absolutely discriminatory. Because we’re not trying to fix “discrimination on the basis of race” with affirmative action. That’s not the problem. The problem is something else, a deeper, more pervasive problem that has the effect of discriminating on the basis or race without seeming to actually do that.

We’re not trying to fix people; we’re trying to fix systems. The system is the deeply embedded discrimination built into our hiring practices, university selection processes, and so forth. Where qualified candidates are being denied opportunities because they’re a certain race. We do that by intentionally making space for these people. This has the local effect of discriminating against someone, but the system-wide effect of making a more just society for everyone. (And obviously this is just one thing that we do; there’s opportunity for lots more.)

Or take drugs. We can probably all agree that being addicted to drugs is bad.

So then aren’t safe injection sites just enabling addiction? Isn’t decriminalization just tacit approval?

I hope you can see where I’m going here. It’s important to say… yes. Safe injection sites do, on the face of it, enable addiction. But they do that in order to try to prevent worse things like disease and death. And decriminalization aims to treat addiction instead of punishing it. Both these initiative aim to create a path out of addiction. Dying is worse. Going to jail is worse.

These solutions aren’t super-intuitive.

But maybe that’s an indictment of our moral imagination. The idea that you can punish someone into not taking drugs, or that tut-tutting at racial slurs is going to fix racism… these shouldn’t be the first tools in our moral toolbelt. Sometimes it takes a deeper imagination (a more prophetic imagination) to seek answers to problems.

Words don’t have meanings

Seriously. Words don’t have meanings.

I mean, this sounds pretty silly. Of course words have meanings. You’re reading this blog post, it makes sense, you understand it, words have meanings.

So this is going to seem pretty pedantic, but let’s think about you think about when you think about “have”. I have an arm. The arm is part of me. What I call “I” contains this thing called “arm”. Think of any of a billion other examples (and probably some counterexamples) and it’s clear that to have something like a meaning, an arm, a temper, a wallet, is sort of to have that thing as an attribute, or to contain it, or to own it.

That’s what I think of when I think of “have”. You can probably find lots of other ways people use “have” but I’d argue my way is the first one that pops into your head.

Which is kind of the point. How can “have” have a meaning if there are multiple conflicting definitions. How can we disagree about the most common usage of “have” if it has this property of meaning?

You can probably see where I’m going with this. We give words meanings.

Or to put another way that will absolutely get some hackles up: The meaning of a word is a social construct. Just like… well… lots of things. Maybe everything.

We’re so used to words that we take them for granted. I forget that words aren’t blobs of meaning. I forget this every day. I forget that word are made up of letters (except right now, when I’m typing this; I’m acutely aware). I forget that letters are made up of curves and lines. I forget the words are arbitrary, the symbols are arbitrary, the construction is arbitrary. All that. Because frankly if I remembered it, I’d go a bit mad.

The important thing to remember is that words don’t have meaning. We give words meaning. We do. Not the dictionary, not grumpy old librarian, not your English teacher. There’s never been a time where proper English existed. There never will be.

Shakespeare used “generous” to mean well-bred. You don’t. It changes all the time and this is fine.

So anyways that’s why I call mean on a grill barbecue, and I call meat + peppers + tomatoes + beans chili.

Bullet Points for a (I honestly had to look this up) Thursday Evening

  • There’s so much wrong with Conservatism in the US it’s hard to know where to start. Buuuuut I’ve got an analogy. Republicans are like medieval doctors. They’re not wrong: The west has been sold a bill of goods. There’s a disease. So they reach for the only tool in their toolbox, only problem being that tool just makes it worse. Trickle-down economics might as well be bloodletting. You don’t get there via evidence-based economic policy. You have to get there sideways via ideological orthodoxy. Medieval doctors had their humours, Republicans have their trickle down economics.
  • The was probably more evidence for humours tbqh.
  • Lots of chatter re virtue signalling lately, not all of it absolute trash. Most of it’s aimed at progressives (projection, motl). Was talking to an anti-deficit person earlier, saying Ontario is within sight of balancing the budget. The response was to move “so what” and then a move to different topic. But if you’re really a deficit hawk this is fantastic news! We’re trying to get out of this hole, to un-mortgage our children’s blah blah blah. But of course the anti-deficit stuff is just theatre. I haven’t found no sincere anti-deficit folks but few. Very few. I kind of think a lot of this is outrage theatre: You just want a stick to beat the Liberals with.
  • Same for anti-feminists outraged at how feminists are supposedly not outraged about Saudi treatment of women. Outrage theatre. Virtue signalling. Performative morality. They don’t care, they just want a stick.
  • Which is, by the way, a big part of why online debates don’t work, and why centrism is doomed. The stuff people say they care about is never actually what they actually care about.
  • By the way I do think the West has been sold a bill of goods. I don’t like protectionism, I don’t like globalism, I wish there was a third way. Whatever we’re doing now really isn’t working
  • Trump is a symptom.

Bullet points for a Sunday evening

  • Here’s a list of places I’ve lived. Since people don’t seem to know:
    • Etobicoke (before it was Toronto) – Suburban
    • Rexdale (also before it was Toronto) – Suburban
    • Woodbridge (aka Vaughan) – Suburban
    • Brampton – Rural
    • Orangeville – Suburban (this is a weird one though, as it was a subdivision kind of in the middle of nowhere)
    • Bolton – Suburban
    • Mississauga – Urban (basement apartment, near Sq 1)
    • Mississauga – Urban (apartment, south end)
    • Mississauga – Suburban (house, north end)
    • Hamilton – Urban (feels suburban sometimes though, east end)
  • I love living in the country (like, 30 minutes from stuff, not deep country), but I also love urban. What I don’t love is suburban. Living in Mississauga was not for me. I know a lot of folks that just love it, but Mississauga is hella boring.
  • Played a show at the The Casbah this weekend. First gig in FOREVER. Part of what I like about living in Hamilton is there’s a scene here, you know? Like, people play music and other people go to hear them play music.
  • I should have bought a house here 5 years ago. Seriously. The price almost makes a commute worth it.
  • Felt like I was the only one who got the Westworld sermon illustration. Thought there were more people into that show? Or is it just me?
  • Making friends as an adult is hard.
  • I’m sick to death of plodding singer songwriters. Like, we have hooks for a reason, use them every once in a while. Otherwise everything ends up sounding exactly the same.
  • Sad to find out that people you know haven’t vaccinated their kids. I understand the left has their crazy anti-intellectual things like anti-vaxxers, and I know the arguments don’t really work because people have integrated these things into their sociopolitical identities… but that doesn’t mean I don’t lose some respect. We have 70+ years of concrete evidence that vaccinations work, that they save millions of children’s lives. The fact that you don’t see polio around anymore is a testament to that fact. Enough people stop vaccinating though… you’ll get to witness the horrors of polio firsthand at which point it’s a bit too late.
  • Laura texts me when she wants me to put laundry in the dryer. Technology is weird.
  • In the Reformed Church we never celebrated the Christian Year in any form. I wonder why that is. Perhaps it’s too Roman Catholic? In any case it feels like something I missed out on.
  • Speaking of things I missed out on, I took a picture of Audrey’s locker at school the other day and felt oddly emotional about it. Being homeschooled I never got the experience of going to school, having a locker, any of that stuff. It’s like I miss something I never had.
  • Baby # 2 (currently baking) has an intact spine and internal bits. This is good! There were some tests done that indicated a risk of spina bifida. I’m very thankful for socialized medicine right now, too — this situation in a less civilized country would be an absolutely crushing financial blow.

Bullet points for a Saturday evening

Haven’t done one of these things where I peer into a pool of water and admire my reflection for a while so here goes.

  • There’s a lot of hand-wringing about poor, uneducated white people right now. This is, of course, because of Trump. But I think the left is unfair to poor, uneducated white folk living in their little rural nowheresvilles. We want to talk about how black folk are trapped in a cycle of reinforced poverty and isolation but we don’t want to talk about white people in the same terms. This looks bad. We shouldn’t only seek to assist those who vote our way. “White trash” are people too, in the same way that urban poor are people too. Privilege isn’t enough to get you out of the dying company town when there are so many things keeping you from leaving.
  • Libertarians don’t have a chance in the US and they never will, at least as a separate political party. They’re too ideologically pure to be effective, and too laser-focused to appeal to more than middle class white men. And if a Libertarian party candidate ever gains mass appeal it will never be because of their policies, but in spite of them. Unless of course they abandon a bunch of (frankly crazy) policies. But there’s always going to be that (frankly crazy) hardline base trying to reel them back in again. Because if you’re not a general-purpose party you can’t have general-purpose policies. It’s like… the Liberal party in Canada can have a lot of different opinions and policies and platforms that can change to suit whatever. The Libertarian party can’t. Because the Liberals are the student government and the Libertarians are the AV Club. At some point, if the AV Club is organizing fundraisers some nerd is going to get upset that they’re not AV enough.
  • Speaking of Libertarians and Anarchists and all other manner of really crazy bullshit, Libertarianism and Anarchy (which, I mean, we’re talking 1 degree of separation here really) can only function with tyranny or extreme collaboration. And the people that seem most attracted to these philosophies… well, let’s just say they’re not attracted to collaboration. And for systems that end up being built around incentives, that’s a pretty perverse incentive.
  • My furnace fan has died again. Second one in two year, between two different houses. The last one I replaced myself because it was cheaper to do so. I learned a lot about furnaces. For instance I learned that it’s probably a better idea just to pay someone else to do it.
  • We got a new mattress and I just can’t get to sleep on it. I’ve always had trouble sleeping but lately it seems a lot worse. And if I can’t get to sleep before 12 basically I won’t sleep until 3 or 4am. Combine that with a 4 year old who will get up at the crack of dawn come hell or high water, I haven’t been feeling myself lately.
  • Down the street there’s this guy. You don’t know him very well. You notice a lot of smoke coming out of his backyard so you assume he’s burning garbage or something. You go on Facebook and find out a lot of other people in your neighbourhood group are talking about this guy too. Someone says he’s burning tires. Someone else says he’s burning neighbourhood cats alive. Another guy is always calling the fire department on him but the fire department says there’s no evidence of a fire. But the smoke keeps coming. Someone on the group insinuates that he’s been paying off the fire department. One day you’re walking down the alley behind your row of houses and you see someone throw something into his backyard. You look over the fence and see… a smoke bomb. You get to know your neighbour and he’s actually a really great guy, a little nerdy, but nice. He tells you this other guy from across the road really hates him and has been trying to turn the neighbourhood against him by throwing smoke bombs into his backyard and blaming it on him. The guy from across the street created the Facebook page to feed the rumour mill. A lot of people in the neighbourhood who don’t know the guy really hate his guts but the people who do know him think he’s great. So who do you listen to?
  • The people who owned this house (we moved to Hamilton, FYI) before use basically did all their own home improvements. And they did everything wrong. When we moved in there was an exhaust fan in the basement bathroom that you could hear but not see. You could hear it but not see it. It was sucking air up through the pot lights. We have a nice big garage with a sliding garage door. Thing is, they installed the sliding door on the inside instead of the outside. So when it rains, despite a bit of weatherstripping, the rain just runs right in. And now where the water pools (I’ve started mopping it up), the concrete pad is starting to droop. They also installed new downstairs steps but instead of using proper risers they kind of jury-rigged these shelf-like things with nails… which of course are NOT screws. And while they were doing that they cut through an obviously-not-very-important beam that just happened to be holding the upstairs staircase in place, so now there’s a steel pillar there but there’s like a 5 degree angle on the floor in that area. There’s just so much to do without having to redo a bunch of crap that they didn’t do properly… it boggles the mind. This is one reason I’d rather buy a house that is in its original condition rather than a house that’s been quickly buffed up to sell. No one does their home improvements well if they’re not going to live in that space.
  • People wonder why millenials don’t have cars, sex, retirement funds, etc, etc. How about because millenials are poor? That explains it all. All the advantages our parents had are kind of just… gone. If that makes millenials selfish or whiney to you maybe you don’t appreciate what you were given.
  • Canada is a massive failure in urban infrastructure design. It’s 2016 and only just now Hamilton is doing the will-they-won’t-they dance around light rapid transit? There’s still some debate that bike lanes are a good thing? Look, the mark of good urban design isn’t when poor people have cars, but when wealthy people use transit. Let’s get the ball rolling on that.
  • One last thing. I live pretty close to downtown Hamilton (within walking distance) and everything, and I mean EVERYTHING closes up before sundown here. If you’re looking to get a meal after 6pm you’re going to be 90% shit out of luck. It’s SO weird. I mean, I kind of get it, most of the shop owners are people with lives who don’t want to commit to opening their shop when no one is around. But still, I’d love to be able to buy a taco at 1am.

Baby I’m Fine

Baby, I’m fine. You know me, I’m doing alright.
I’ve never been better, on fire all night.

No you haven’t killed me,
I was always a skeleton.

Baby, last time you know how I said we were through?
I’ve never had control over something like you.

No you haven’t filled me,
I am ever insatiable.

You always find me,
You’re always somewhere behind me.
You always find me,
Bright as the sun, you are blinding.

Baby, I’m fine. There’s pills made to keep you in line.
I’d better take twenty, hope you don’t mind.