That's the line to cross?

Well, the proverbial "Cat's outta the bag" so to say, and I'm about to post an opinion of someone I read on social media about the state of things below the 45th parallel. I guess now that I've gone down the path of negativity toward the present POTUS, I can't travel to the USA for fear of how the ICE and Border Officials will react ... Well, TBH, I had zero plans for doing so anyway.

Steve McEachern, according to his own web site profile, "I am CEO of WebMarket Consultants Incorporated, Marketing.Legal™, and tech-stack architect of the Success.Legal™ ecosystem. I oversee business logic, application development, digital asset/equity valuation, and other aspects within the Canadian legal profession ecosystem. Information provided here is solely for technology demonstration and testing purposes. I am not a lawyer, nor licensed in any way by any Law Society or Bar Association. I am unable to provide legal advice to the public." 

I provide that as a potential lens for what I will provide down below.

Having read some of McEachern's musings on social media, I have to say that I am impressed by how he writes, what he writes about, and how he lays out his argument. A friend of mine was born, raised, and educated in Canada, but his career path led he and his wife to the deep south where they have lived for 30+ years (it actually might be closer to 40+). We don't have many discussions about US politics, but we've shared boat loads of minutes discussing things we struggle to understand, and the following I offer as a HMMM moment.

If you know Steve McEachern, and are already aware of his views, I don't think you'll gain a whole lot of new insight, but if you've never heard of him, give this a read.

🇨🇦🇺🇸 I’m Canadian. That means I don’t get a vote in American elections. But don’t get it twisted — I’ve still got skin in this bloody game. When the United States lights the world on fire, the smoke drifts north, the oil markets spike, our soldiers end up in your wars, and the global economy rattles like an out of control eighteen-wheeler at the intersection of the 401 and DVP.

So yeah. Some of us outside your borders have been watching this circus for years.

And here’s the part that blows the mind:

It wasn’t the 34 felony convictions.

It wasn’t being found liable for sexual assault.

It wasn’t the six bankruptcies.

It wasn’t the porn star scandal while his wife had a newborn.

It wasn’t the classified documents piled up in a Mar-a-Lago bathroom.

It wasn’t January 6th.

It wasn’t the Epstein file questions.

It wasn’t gutting healthcare for millions.

It wasn’t getting his tariffs swatted down by his own Supreme Court.

No.

None of that did it.

You know what finally cracked the skulls of the flag-waving, pickup truck-driving, “don’t tread on me” freedumbers?

The fucking gas price.

That’s the line.

That’s where the moral compass suddenly spun back to life. Not democracy. Not decency. Not the rule of law. Not dead soldiers. Not destabilizing half the Middle East.

Nope.

The number on the sign at the gas station.

That’s what finally did it.

Nick Fuentes — an actual white nationalist — is now telling his followers to vote Democrat.

Let that sink through your skull for a second.

The guy who had dinner with Trump at Mar-a-Lago is now saying vote blue because the GOP “broke every single promise.” Epstein cover-ups. No mass deportations. And now a regime-change war in the Middle East that supposedly was never going to happen.

Alex Jones nearly cried on air.

“I needed Trump as my lifeboat,” he said. “And I’m watching it sink.”

The same guy who told parents of murdered six-year-olds their kids were crisis actors is now having a televised emotional collapse because his strongman hero turned out to be full of shit.

Tragic.

My heart absolutely fucking bleeds.

Joe Rogan — the guy who practically delivered the bro vote in 2024 — just told eleven million listeners the Iran war is “insane” and people feel “betrayed.”

Betrayed.

Man, Rogan had Trump on his podcast, endorsed him the night before the election, went to the inauguration like a kid at Disneyland… and now he’s sitting there scratching his head going, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

No shit, Joe.

Millions of us — including those of us outside your borders whose economies get dragged along with yours — have been screaming that into the void for ten goddamn years.

Tucker Carlson now says the strikes are “disgusting and evil.”

Megyn Kelly says she has “serious doubts.”

Matt Walsh is suddenly calling out conservative influencers for being anti-war until about five minutes ago.

Andrew Tate — the self-help prophet of the permanently online — is asking why bombing Iran benefits anyone in America.

And here’s the bit that really makes you want to throw a chair through a window.

Every single one of these people was warned.

They were told about the grift.

They were told about the lies.

They were told about the incompetence.

They were told that a guy who managed to bankrupt casinos might not be the wizard of economic management.

They were told “America First” was a bumper sticker, not a policy.

They were told tariffs would backfire.

They were told grocery prices would climb.

They were told.

And what did they say?

They said we were hysterical.

They said we were snowflakes.

They said we had Trump Derangement Syndrome.

They said we just couldn’t handle winning.

Well congratulations, champions.

Gas is up sixty cents in a month making rightwingers cry.

Oil just blasted past $120USD a barrel.

The Strait of Hormuz is closed.

Seven American soldiers are dead in a war that didn’t have to happen.

Manufacturing jobs are evaporating.

Groceries are climbing again making rightwingers cry.

The Trumpian approval rating is in the toilet.

Apparently that is what winning looks like.

The “f&$k around” phase of Trumpian MAGAts lasted about eight years.

The “find out” phase just arrived possibly like a bloody extinction-level asteroid.

And the saddest part?

It’s not that people are finally noticing.

It’s why.

It wasn’t morality.

It wasn’t empathy.

It wasn’t democracy.

It wasn’t the constitution.

It wasn’t dead civilians halfway across the planet.

It was the extra twenty bucks it costs to fill the F-150 of a redneck named Cletus who eats cornbread and baked squirrel then burps the alphabet, while calling out his own sister’s name when masturbating to the demolition of his hometown’s water tower.

That’s the entire MAGA movement distilled to its purest essence.

They didn’t give a shit about democracy.

They didn’t give a shit about norms.

They didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t them.

But the moment the petrol pump hits their wallet, suddenly everyone’s a political philosopher. From up here in Canada — and frankly from a lot of places around the world that get dragged into the consequences of American decisions — we’ve been watching this slow-motion disaster for years.

Welcome to the find out stage, boys.

Some of us have been waiting for you.

Bewildering achievement

Like so many that have the capability, when the olympic calendar indicates either a summer or winter Olympics is happening, I make time in my day to watch because I'm not in the least bit shy about admitting my appreciation for the talent, training, and dedication these athletes demonstrate. As a former high level athlete myself, and a coach of so many I was blessed to interact with as they honed their own skills and talents, I shake my head in awe at what is considered "normal" in today's international competitions.

I was having a conversation with a friend a month ago, right around when the winter able-bodied Olympics were beginning, and the comment was offered, "What get's me is that in the summer Olympics, we celebrate how strong, how fast, or how skilled the athletes are, but the the winter Olympics it seems we celebrate how crazy they are, as we marvel at whether or not they'll survive." 

Think about what you know right now about the differences between the two seasonal competitions. The summer games focus on running, swimming, jumping, or throwing the fastest, furthest, or highest, but in contrast, the winter games are about flying through the air doing the most tricks ... or flying down a mountain the fastest ... or staying on the ice or snow surface in some razor-sharp blades at 120 kph. Even cross country skiing is spiced up by throwing in rifles?

Here's an even more alarming thought ...

Survive flying down a mountain at 100 kph following your guide because you're visually impaired! We test people's eyesight to allow them to drive on our nation's roads safely, then award some young lady or gentleman a big hunk o' gold for taking the greatest risk when they strap some slippery boards to their feet and point as straight as possible down a mountain. Better still, we create a category for those with an impaired or missing leg, where they can sit down, on ONE ski, and do the same thing! 

Want to have an OMG moment? Watch the Paralympics before they finish.

Being a 100% red 'n white Canuck, I have to include sledge hockey, the Paralympic version of our nation's passion. Push aside the fact that these athletes are balancing on a single blade while sitting in a metal gurney, how about the fact that they propel down the ice surface, twisting and turning, powered by only their arms as they use specially designed mini sticks with picks on the nub to provide traction as they push? Ever played mini sticks? Think about how strong your arms and wrists have to be to shoot the puck the way they do! 

Ever heard of the biathlon? That's where you cross country ski so fast and hard that you collapse in a heap as you cross the finish line. Some of these wonders of humanhood throw in the task of target shooting in the middle of a race, forcing themselves to lie on their belly, hold their breath as they will their heart from hammering in their chest, and attempt to hit a 45 mm target from 50 m five times in a row, trying to avoid adding penalty distance to the length they race. That's apparently not challenging enough for some, so in the Paralympics they have a race for visually impaired athletes ... they give guns to people who struggle to see? These incredible athletes use sound to target the coin-sized target! Some don't have arms so they can't use poles or hold the gun in their lack of hands, yet shoot the rifle they do, rarely missing!

"Hey, wait a minute Steve!" you might yell.

How are all of those races fair since some athletes are way more impaired than others!

Enter another Paralympic modification. The racers are given a percentage of impairment that is used to calculate a timing factor that is used to arrive at their final clocking. A more abled racer is factor 99 or 100%, while someone missing a limb, or has a paralyzed limb, might have a factor 82% meaning that their time is 82% of their finish time of X minutes and seconds. Some of these super heroes require outrigger poles to stay upright because they only have one leg. Imaging yourself competing in the downhill, going 90 or 100 kph on three skis ... one on a foot and two in your hands? How about doing so through 100 poles in a winding weaving slalom course?

So many of us marvel at the Usain Bolts of the world, the fact he can cover 100 m in the mind boggling world record of 9.59 seconds because we've all run flat out at some point in our lives so we can at the very least have a partial understanding of his incredible ability. I can't speak for you, but I cannot identify with someone who can sit in some space-age contraption mounted to a single ski, complete with shock absorbers, then twist and turn down a mountain as fast as possible without wiping out. There were a few wipeouts in the "sit ski" races I watched and they were what we used to call "Yard Sales" when I ski raced ... there were bits and pieces of equipment scattered all over the hill. 

Who looks at a race like that and says, "Sign me up"?

What about curling? If you've ever actually tried it, on ice, you have to appreciate what they can make those polished chunks of granite do, but think about how difficult it is to do so from a wheelchair, and instead of using your hands, you use a modified Shuffleboard pole. I saw the Canadian Skip perform a perfect double takeout, squeezing through two guards barely larger that the diameter of the rock, and take out 2 opponent rocks with out touching his own 4. 

Think I'm exaggerating? Look up the highlight ... incredible!

I think that we all should give our Olympians a tip of the hat, both able bodied and disabled, because they deserve our respect, applause, admiration, and support. 

At least, that's my opinion.

Thanks for reading!

Life is Hard!

This piece was prompted by yet another little nugget of wisdom floating out there on the Interweb waiting to for my eyeballs to settle on. I'm pretty sure I've let the proverbial "cat outta the bag" surrounding my Love-Hate relationship with social media, but I do sincerely love it when a trip down the wormhole lands me at the foot of some intellectual gemstone.

Ryan Leak ... according to Goggle Books
Ryan Leak is a best-selling author, esteemed executive coach, and a highly sought-after transformational speaker. With an incredible reach of over 1 million people every year through his keynotes, Ryan's words have the power to transform lives. Each year, he dedicates his expertise and research to the growth of over 100,000 leaders, spanning the spectrum from Fortune 100 corporations to elite professional sports teams. While Ryan wears many hats, the ones he is most proud to wear are husband to Amanda and father to Jaxson and Roman.

The following is a transcripts of videos that the good Mr Leak circulated, a viewing that left me head scratching and ruminating, so much so that it prompted a further looksy into who he is and what he's about. I'll admit that I'm a bit of a sucker for powerful motivational speakers, and judging by Mr Leak's videos, he'd be quite the experience to be enjoyed live.

Life is going to be hard either way, so choose your difficult. Starting a business? That’s hard. But so is staying in a job that drains you. Forgiving someone who hurt you? That’s hard. But so is carrying the weight of bitterness. Saying no to things so you can prioritize what matters most? That’s hard. But so is being spread too thin and losing yourself. Being vulnerable with someone you love? That’s hard. But so is feeling alone even when you’re in a room full of people. 

Growth is uncomfortable. But staying stuck is worse. You don’t get to skip the hard stuff in life, but you do get to pick which version you’re willing to live with. 

Don’t choose easy. 

Choose worth it.

OR

One of my favourite quotes is from Glennon Doyle, "If you can’t beat the fear, just do it scared." I get that you’ve got a lot on your plate… but who says you can’t just do it overwhelmed? I get that you’re exhausted… but who says you can’t just do it tired? I know you might be battling anxiety or depression… but who says you can’t just do it anyway? Who says you can’t lead nervous? Launch misunderstood? Build after betrayal? Create while criticized? Who made the rule that you had to feel 100% ready before you moved? My friend, when you just do it, regardless of whether your emotions are in sync with your ambitions, you get the thing money can’t buy ... Discipline ... Courage ... Momentum. And the kind of confidence that only comes from doing hard things anyway. Just do it scared. Just do it tired. Just do it unsure. Just. Do. It.

While he seems to me to be focussing on business applications, the messages really apply to almost any situation that one might encounter in Life, and what value his words bring! Should these snippets also resonate with you and what you're about, you can find Ryan Leak on a number of platforms, but the one I've chosen is Instagram (CLICK) because as much as audio Podcasts are awesome, I personally glean greater understanding from the non-verbal cues that a video allows.

I'm not trumpeting Mr Leak as a guru, sage, or counsellor, although perhaps those are titles that he would love others to use, but like a few others our there, I find that his words spark healthy introspection that prompts me to examine decisions and intentions, challenging their value and validity at this stage in Life. If that's not your thing, "No harm, No foul", but aren't you happy I shared something if it is your thing?

Thanks for reading!

Just simply Bo

This week's piece is another heavy-hearted one.

Robert "Bo" Howes passed recently, leaving literally 1000's of former players and colleagues in a profound state of melancholy, the impact of a life well lived by a great human being.

Bo lived quite the Life, on his own terms, following a path that was less trodden. Born in Kirkland Lake in 1943, he eventually joined the Tricolour of Queen's, playing both football and basketball in the sixties, before being drafted by the CFL's BC Lions in 1968, but he is most widely known for being captain and All Star center for the the Edmonton Eskimos when they made a previously unmatched run of Grey Cup Championships, first in 1975, then 4 straight from 1978 to 1981. Bo retired from the CFL in 1981, quickly transitioning to the sidelines for the Gaels, first as an assistant, then as Head Coach, winning OQIFC Coach of the Year in 1995 and 1997. Even when he stepped back from full time coaching, he was both assistant and director of Football at U of T and later assisted at St Francis Xavier. 

Bo's impact of Canadian university football was widespread and deep.

Bo was the defensive line coach during my years at Queen's, and since I was on the offensive line, we spent a significant amount of our practice hours in head-to-head bashing breakdown drills. Possessor of a brilliant sense of humour wrapped up in a unique view on Life, I was the target of many a "Bo-isms" throughout my years. By far the biggest impact on my football career came thanks to a particular skill he shared and developed in me, one of the many skills that made him of value to the Lions and Eskimos, the long snap. I arrived at Queen's in 1982, a period where there was a need for a long snapper, and when Bo arrived in 1983, he was quick to take me under his wing, helping me be the number one choice for my entire career at Queens. Like so many other niche skills in sports, the casual fan doesn't appreciate the value of the long snap to the success of a team, and thanks to Bo's tutelage, it was something Queens didn't have to worry about for the years I played. During our shared time, I grew to appreciate all that Bo was and stood for, a coaching style that significantly impacted the development of my own coaching style for the next 40 years.

I am very proud to have called Bo a friend and am forever grateful for the time he invested in me.

Despite his successes, what truly makes this a sad day is that a genuine gentleman has left us, leaving behind a multitude that will experience an encompassing sense of loss, the effect Bo had on so many. Quick with a smile, a compliment, and a joke, his eyes revealed a deep commitment to his fellow man.

RIP Bo ... We will miss you ... and sincerely thank you for being in our lives.

"A long, long time ago ..."

When your youngest child turns 30, it triggers all manner of thoughts, not the least of which is reminiscing about the "good old days", and that led to this little jog down Memory Lane.

Are you on FB? 

That's a stupid question if you arrived here because you likely clicked the link from my FB feed, but maybe less stupid if you arrived here through Instagram. If you're reading this because you actively seek out my writing, well, you're just flat out awesome! Either way, the preview of this piece created enough curiousity to push your fingertip to click or tap.

The following makes it's rounds on various social media platforms from time to time. Some love them, some hate them, but for my opinion, they serve to cause a reminiscing grin because they shake off the dust from so many memories. As an almost official Old Fart, these questions force a walk down Memory Lane, a journey that has stops at vague recollections of memorable fun experiences, really awesome people, or wholly satisfying accomplishments. 

Senior Year in 1982

This is funny ... now ... but it was all business back then!

Think about your SENIOR year in High School, if you can remember that long ago.
The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be!

Class of: 1982

1. Did you know your current love? Nope, discovered my bestie at Uni, in downtown Kingston!

2. Type of car?  My dad's burnt orange OPEL GT, a sort of baby corvette with flip over lights.

3. What kind of job? A host of part time affairs but the longest one was security at Barrie Raceway.

4. Where did you live? Barrie's "Snob Hill" as the locals referred to it back then.

5. Were you popular? I had boatloads of friends who smiled when I was around, so Yes?

6. Were you in choir/band? Nope, ran with the Jock clique ... still do.

7. Ever get suspended? Nope, that would mean I couldn't play sports, and that would have killed me.

8. If you could would you go back? As enticing that might be, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't. I like now!

9. Still talk to the person that you went to prom with? Yep, she was even my boss recently!

10. Did you skip school? Nope ... see #7!

11. Go to all the football games? Yep, had a front row seat! 5 year starter that led to 5 years in Uni!

12. Favourite subjects? PHE and Science ... exactly what I took in Uni!

13. Do you still have your yearbook? You betcha! Loved them so much, I taught Yearbook in HS!

14. Did you follow your original career path? I fancied medicine briefly, but teaching was in my heart!

15. Do you still have your senior ring? YEP! It's in pretty rough shape but still fits!

16. Who was your favourite teacher? TOUGH! Liked a host of them and they became great friends!

17. What was your style? 100% Jock, through and through. Denim, Grebs, Sweats, Tees ... Jock stuff!

18. Favorite Shoes? Grebs everyday; Converse and Puma on the court/field; Penny loafers for dress.

19. Favourite thing to eat for lunch? What ever my mom had in the fridge, but Cafe fries were a treat!

20. Favorite Band/Singer? Rush, Van Halen, Jackson 5, Kool and the Gang ... still FAVs!

21. High school hair? Flowing shoulder length locks, parted in the middle.

22. What was your favourite perfume / cologne? Halston ... still have a bottle!

23. How old when you graduated? 18 and never been ... scratch that thought!

24. Who do you think will play along and fill this out? Fellow Old Farts from my graduating class!

25. How was this trip down Memory Lane? Frickin' outstanding and FULL of smiles!

Not sure who dreamed this up originally, but thank you for making this old geezer smile!