Editor Corbett's Dailies

Unsolved mysteries involve 'humming' in my head

2008-03-27T14:03:00.000-07:00

IT'S TIME for the mystery tour. In past the Ol' Columnist has "explored" mind-boggling questions concerning UFOs, the Bimini Road, the Bermuda Triangle, the Loch Ness Monster, Big Foot, crop circles and even the Okanagan's very own mysterious creature, Ogopogo.
Of course, since we're neither a scientist nor a mind-reader some must be relegated to the unexplained category.
Just in the past few days, a new list of unsolved mysteries came to the forefont.
And one happened to be this striking headline: "Whatever happened to D.B. Cooper?"
That's right, back in November, 1971, D.B. (obviously, not his real name) jumped out of a Northwest Orient plane between Seattle and Reno with $200,000 (in $20. bills) along with four parachutes.
And then Cooper vanished. The cops labelled it an unsolved crime even though over the course of time, rumours have circulated that D.B. was spending that loot somewhere, most likely in Mexico.
Well, just a few days ago some kids found a rotting parachute stuck in the mud on their family's property in rural southwestern Washington and the speculation began once again.
Another mysterious disappearance is less than a year old. That's when famous American adventurer Steve Fossett disappeared while flying his own small plane over the Nevada desert last September.
Now, the 63-year-old Fossett had been noted for his daring-do. He made his fortune in the financial services industry and then took off, setting world records in a balloon. He appeared invincible.
After six months of intense searching, it was called off and Fossett was declared "legally dead."
Strange. Strange, indeed.
There are other mysteries which keeps me as well as countless others wide awake in the middle of the night.
One happens to be the Shroud of Turin, which is housed in the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Turin, Italy. Is it really the burial covering of Jesus Christ? There have been countless tests concerning it and still the controversy remains as to its authenticity.
Another one which has held my interest involves a ship called the 'Mary Celeste,' which was launched as the 'Amazon' in Nova Scotia in 1860.
It seems the ship was repaired and re-launched and on Nov. 7, 1872 it set off from New York to Genoa, Italy.
Then something strange happened.
The 'Mary Celeste' was found floating in the middle of the Strait of Gibraltar. Neither the captain, his family and crew were found and what happened to them is still a mystery.
And then there's another mystery, which has affected me and possibly you.
It's commonly known as The Hum. That's right, that low-pitched sound heard by millions.
Have you been kept awake by it? I know I have and it's been a constant annoyance throughout the years.
At first it sounded like static from the radio. However, it continued even after my radio was turned off. Then I covered my ears and it remained.
Perhaps, it was something I had to endure as the aging process set in.
However, in the past few days, I decided to explore this all-too-common mystery.
Apparently, it has a name of the Taos Hum throughout North America.
In 1997, the U.S. Congress had scientists check out the town of Taos, New Mexico where it was most noticeable.
However, a so-called scientific study of this low-frequency sound proved inconclusive.
The Hum, of course, has continued throughout the U.S., Canada as well as in Europe, Asia, Africa and even as far away as New Zealand.
Just what is this mystery?
Some have considered it emanating from microwaves while even others have claimed it to be the "work" of little, green men in UFOs.
It's a real humdinger and I'm tired of it. After all, I'd like to get some rest without this constant low-frequency "humming."

The Most Unforgettable 'Teacher' In My Life

2008-03-26T04:42:00.000-07:00

THERE I WAS the other night and for whatever reason a thought popped into my head: "I wonder how Ol' George Gross is doing?"
Without any fanfare, I started to check the Internet. Did he have another Vaclav Nedomansky waiting in the wings? Of course, how could I ever forget those bygone days when he whispered on the phone about the most famous defection in hockey history. And as well, his admonition to me to keep it a secret.
While scrolling the Net these dramatic words hit me like a two-by-four: George Gross, the founding sports editor of the Toronto Sun, has died.
What? I blinked a half dozen times and rushed to wake up The Missus.
"George died," I said in a shaky voice.
"What?"
"George is dead," I repeated.
The impact was immediate on both of us.
How could this be? A legend should give at least some advance notice of their demise, but to learn of Gross' death with only a few terse words on the Net was almost indecent.
How could this pupil of a sportswriting legend even sleep while burdened with news that brought tears to my eyes?
In the morning I was still shaken and wrote the following:
George Gross was one of a kind. He was wise sometimes. He was humourous sometimes. He was even hard driving at other times.
And I can say all these things, for I was his right-hand man at the very beginning of the Toronto Sun in November 1971.
Actually, I learned from this debonair man of the world during my days with the late and great Toronto Telegram. And what a learning experience that was.
When the Tely went the way of the dodo bird, Gross was an integral member of the team which began working on wooden crates in that early Canadian foundry -- the Eclipse Whitewear Building. And I was the fortunate one, being named the first assistant sports editor under his leadership.
Those days were filled with apprehension and wonderment at the Little Paper That Grew as it blossomed into a newspaper, which actually hit the streets every day.
It was a miracle.
There were nights at his home, planning the look and essence of those sports pages. It was like looking over the shoulder of a master at work.
Then there were the "chats," if his right-man man stepped out of line and words such as "okay, kiddo," which always seemed to conclude every so-called "lecture."
In those days, we were family, so when I decided to leave to become sports editor of the Edmonton Sun and later its executive editor, this man I considered to be my father in the business realm was mildly annoyed. And the communication between us became somewhat strained.
A few years late, in the mid-80s, Gross came back into my life after my relationship with the Edmonton Sun disintegrated.
That's when the "real" George Gross came to the forefront and he welcomed me back into the Toronto Sun fold, for which I will be eternally grateful.
While I retired in 1994, this wise and generous man continued to be such an influence with his writings and his generous ways.
When I heard of his passing last Friday, I went into shock, for he definitely was one of a kind.
Since then countless words have flowed concerning this man, who escaped Czechoslovakia from the Communists via a row boat or was it that he had walked on the Danube as someone once wrote?
In this day of cookie-cutter celebrities, Gross was larger-than-life, known from Prague to Moscow to Toronto to Vancouver to even Los Angeles as the stylish gentleman with the European charm and sometimes explosive temper.
The Baron, a name that most called him, was the last of a dying breed. He was definitely old school and he had been trained in the finer points of tennis, soccer, hockey and figure skating and wrote about each with style. In addition, his charity work, particularly, with Variety Village, goes unmatched.
While the deaths of sportswriting legends such as Dick Beddoes, Jim Coleman, Scott Young, Milt Dunnell, Jim Hunt, Ted Reeve and Jim Proudfoot have been dramatic, the demise of George Gross has made me feel very vulnerable, for he was not only my teacher, but my friend.
Incidentally, his scoop concerning Nedomansky's defection to the World Hockey Association in the 1970s earned him a National Newspaper Award.
Now this legend is gone at age 85, survived by his wife, Elizabeth, son George and daughter Teddy and his "pupils" of which I certainly was one.

Kenny Reardon: A true and brave Canadien

2008-03-19T01:32:00.000-07:00

FOR THE YOUNGER generation, the name Kenny Reardon might not mean much. Perhaps, some might associate the name with hockey. And they'd be right.
According to Montreal Gazette columnist Red Fisher, Reardon was certainly a "fearless, rushing and crushing defenceman" in the 1940s with the NHL Canadiens.
In addition, the tough man for the defence, even went overseas and distinguished himself by being awarded the Field Marshall Montgomery's Certificate of Merit for bravery.
Later, he would become a respected club executive -- a man who carried himself with distinction on and off the ice.
So it was a shock when learning about his death at age 86 and the reason for it. For, you see, Reardon had the incurable disease, Alzheimer's, known in most circles as dementia.
Reardon like others before him had been devastated by the disease as I have detailed in past columns.
Even last May, I related that it has affected not only aging former athletes, but the younger generation.
If you'll indulge me, I'll repeat a number of paragraphs from a 2007 column:
"Ted Johnson has all the symptoms: Depression, dizziness, excessive drowsiness, fatigue, irritability, memory loss, poor concentration, ringing in the ears, acute sensitivity to noise. And he's only 34 years old and slowly the memory and the mind of the former New England Patriots' linebacker may be vanishing.
"He's almost a poster boy for an oft-dismissed disease and its advance stage known as Alzheimer's, which can claim not only the young, as Johnson happens to be, but stretches into those in advanced years, often blatantly tagged as "the Golden Years."
Actually, the above paragraphs were the essence of a lengthy article by Jackie MacMullan of the Boston Globe, who painted a sad portrait of a once-great athlete, who was felled by severe periods of stark depression.
Johnson, himself, has attributed his crippling disease to "concussions" which he numbers close to 30. That figure startled someone, who has only suffered a half dozen concussions.
However, non-athletes have also been ravished by dementia and Alzheimer's.
When trying to track down the disease, there was a report that about 23,000 Americans die from it annually. And athletes, who had suffered a series of concussions and head traumas, weren't the only ones to be relegated to the "sidelines," and these included some of the best and the brightest.
Of course, the final years of former U.S. President Ronald Reagan were sad, indeed. An also actress Rita Hayworth, the fiery performer from the 1940s, deteriorated and her affliction wasn't properly diagnosed until 1980. She died in 1987 at the age of 87.
Remember Burgess Meredith, the actor who growled his way to fame as 'The Penguin' and even later in the 1995 'Grumpier Old Men'? He died from Alzheimer's in 1997.
The sports realm, of course, has been most susceptible with every one from famed college and NFL head coach Tom Fears, major-league baseball star Mickey Owen, and, of course, Sugar Ray Robinson, one of all-time greats in the boxing ring, being victims.
While the Alzheimer's-related death of Kenny Reardon came as a shock to older hockey fans, the life of Vernon-area resident, Keith Vinden, has been an inspiration to the survivors of this dreaded illness.
Although the former teacher and principal could sink into deep depression, he maintains a great sense of humour and it showed with such gems as: "I met a guy in the gym this morning. He says, "Hi Keith, how ya doing?" "Great! Say, I don't think we've met before. My name's Keith." I make more new friends this way."
MYTH CONCEPTIONS (From Uncle John's Bathroom Reader): Fortune cookies were invented in China. Truth: They were invented in the U.S. in 1918 by Charles Jung, a Chinese restaurant owner, to amuse customers while they waited for their food. Only later were they served after the meal.

For Beliveau, it's still a matter of class

2008-03-06T19:33:00.000-08:00

IN AN AGE when bundles of currency and arrogance often define superstar athletes, Jean Beliveau at age 76 stands for class.
The former Montreal Canadiens captain, who retired from hockey in 1971, still ranks as a role model even for those, who never saw his superior skills.
On the Legends of Hockey website, the late NHL president Clarence Campbell was quoted as saying that Le Gros Bill "provided hockey with a magnificent image."
That was high praise indeed, but deserved. And it hasn't diminished even today.
The reason for such status through the years was that Beliveau always displayed an affection for his chosen game and still contributes to it in positive ways.
His name came to the forefront just the other day when I started flipping through a catalogue I received from classicauction.net, announcing the Jean Beliveau Foundation Auction on Tuesday, March 11.
While growing up, this would-be goaltender, who certainly deserved to be known as The Sieve, tried to emulate the moves of the late Toronto netminder Turk Broda. It was a futile effort, but loyalty to the Maple Leafs was imperative in Bass River, Nova Scotia, Pop. 301, in the late 1940s and early 1950s.
However, when my family moved to the Toronto area in the mid-'50s, I became a secret admirer of the Canadiens, well not the entire team, but of Beliveau.
Of course, it was an unspoken admiration. After all, Le Gros Bill was the enemy. And I definitely wanted to keep my pearly whites intact. So I suffered in silence. However, Beliveau's class eventually softened the hearts of Toronto fanatics and for 18 years he worked his magic for the Montrealers.
After his retirement he became an executive and the "goodwill ambassador" for the Habs, and out of that connection, the Jean Beliveau Fund for underprivileged and needy kids was established.
So that's the reason, the "classy" catalogue was a welcome sight in my mailbox.
On Page 7, there's photo of a game sweater Beliveau wore in 1969. An accompanying story read: "Our consignor was just a youngster when he won the sweater in a contest organized by the Journal de Montreal newspaper not long after Jean Beliveau retired from hockey ... The Canadiens' former captain personally presented the sweater to the excited boy."
Besides the sweater, there were other Beliveau "treasures" being auctioned off to benefit those less fortunate such as his 1972-73 Stanley Cup championship ring and even the 325th career goal puck in which he moved ahead of Nels Stewart and into fifth place on the all-time goals scored list behind Richard, Howe, Lindsay and Geoffrion.
It might not mean much to the diminishing number of non-hockey fans, but that Beliveau goal, assisted by Bobby Rousseau, was scored against Roger Crozier in Detroit's Olympia on Dec. 22, 1963. The Canadiens went on to a 6-1 victory.
Other items include miniature silver-plated Stanley Cups, rings, sticks and pucks and even a pair of autographed "reds" from the old Montreal Forum. These are two of the four seats which "belonged" to Beliveau.
Now wouldn't those "reds" look terrific in my office? The only trouble is there's already a reserve bid of $500 on them.
Besides, those "reds," other "treasures" connected to the likes of Henri Richard, Guy Lafleur, Rocket Richard, Howie Morenz, Jacques Plante, Ken Dryden, Patrick Roy, Bobby Orr, Bobby Hull, Bobby Baun and the Great Gretzky will also be up for auction.
Now, please excuse me, I'm trying to raise some dollars for, maybe, an autographed photo of Beliveau on auction day. It will be a birthday gift. That's right my birthday also happens to be on Tuesday, March 11.

Of wintry dreams and the crowd goes wild

2007-12-28T02:21:00.000-08:00

THE OL' COLUMNIST was having a midwinter's night dream. And echoing in those wide-open spaces between my ears I could hear a voice: "Hello, hockey fans, this is Foster Hewitt from the gondola in Maple Leaf Gardens ..."
It could have been senility setting in; then again it could have been Father Time giving me a checkup to see if I was still breathing.
What brought up all this hubris (see, I told you I could spell, even if I barely know what the word means), about when times were simplier and kids from B.C. to Floral, Sask. to Bass River, Nova Scotia had one dream; that of joining the likes of Syl Apps, and Teeder, and, for some of us, usually the fat kid down the street of putting on the pads and becoming the second coming of Turk Broda.
Do I sound older than dirt? You bet, but the dreams such as these don't cost one inflated nickel,
So there I was, sports fans, facing a slapshot from the dreaded Ronnie Fulton, the older brother of my little girlfriend, Joycie, and, of course, he was firing a heavily-taped and frozen rubber ball at my shins, which were (lightly) padded with department store catalogues.
It's Christmas 1949 and, in my mind, I could barely hear Foster Hewitt's radio voice delivering his famous line: "He shoots, he scores ..." Then I turned up the volume and it became "And ... Corbett makes another magnificent save."
Of course, the massive crowd went absolutely wild at this superb display of goaltending.
Then there were hundreds of reporters milling around Willard and Annona Corbett's kid, who was about to be ranked among the greats.
Ah, what a dream.
It was a different era; for in summer, I was the greatest baseball catcher of all time until one hot day in July when Ronnie Fulton's "fastball" hit my big toe. It curled under me and after spending a night in pain, I decided my only sports career would be as a celebrated NHL goalie or as a world-famous explorer, who travelled down the Amazon River in South America.
And then the Corbetts moved away to St. Catharines, Ont. and those goaltender dreams quickly vanished as I watched the likes of Bobby Hull and Stan Mikita send howitzers towards the invited goalies at training camp.
However, I did get to take my so-called "career" to another level as I stood in front of Bobby Corupe's garage in the St. Catharines suburb of Port Dalhousie and he DID fire real pucks at me. Corupe went on to star with the junior team and I was left with welts on my shins, which I still have to this day.
Now it's Christmas 2007 and I'm left with these welts and a boxful of hockey pocketbooks, which for some reason I have never opened before. Two are by the late Scott Young, whom I worked with at the now-defunct Toronto Telegram, and then there's another one called Champions -- The Making of the Edmonton Oilers. It's by Kevin Lowe with Stan and Shirley Fischler.
On the book jacket of Young's A Boy At Leafs' Camp, it read: "For 18-and-a-half-year-old Bill Spunska, the jump from high school hockey to the NHL was no bigger than the move from his native Poland. In two years he had learned to skate, shoot and pass. But now, as the youngest boy at the Toronto Maple Leafs' training camp, he has only two weeks to learn what it takes to be a pro."
Then the second one by Young was more serious, for The Boys of Saturday Night, obviously, delves into the stormy history of Hockey Night in Canada, from the invention of the instant replay to the ascent of powerful corporate interests.
Since I worked in Edmonton and became a friend of Lowe's during the Oilers' glory years, Champions, really fascinates me since it, indeed, was a magical time.
So now if you'll excuse me I'll settle in for a short winter's nap and once again listen to the voice of Foster Hewitt, in my mind: "And ... Corbett makes another magnificent save."
Even the Ol' Columnist can have dreams of what might have been.
***
ONE MORE TIME: Often when this scribbler comes up a bit short, he turns to The Best of Uncle John's Bathroom Room. Without further adieu, here are some more origins of common phrases:
Son of a gun. Meaning: An epithet. Origin: In the 1800s, British sailors took women along on extended voyages. When babies were born at sea, the mothers delivered them in a partitioned section of the gundeck. Because no one could be sure who the true fathers were, each of these "gunnery" babies were jokingly called a "son of a gun."
FINALLY, A PRIMETIME PROVERB: Herman Munster of The Munsters concerning pets: "He who lies down with dogs gets up with fleas."

D. Murray Dryden: He was a grandfather and a visionary

2007-12-21T03:21:00.000-08:00

D. MURRAY DRYDEN was a man of vision. A grandfather to the world. And even though he died in 2004 at age 92, his dream of providing one million bedkits for needy children could soon become a reality.
In fact, 905,350 bedkits have been distributed throughout the world after his daughter, Judy's recent visit to Bangladesh.
So as I've written before, the dream never dies, just the dreamer.
And Dryden, indeed, was a visionary.
The father of two famous hockey goalies, Ken and Dave, was the head of the all-volunteer Sleeping Children Around the World (SCAW) organization. However, SCAW didn't die with his demise, but thrives today.
In Feb. 3, 1999, I related the story of Mr. Dryden in World Net Daily. The following is an excerpt:
In the Dirty 30s, to survive, Dryden barnstormed the barren wastes of Saskatchewan, selling silk stockings door to door on commission. That's when he learned, first hand, what it was like to go without a bed.
Even in those days, he was an optimist.
From his 1930 diary, Dryden wrote: "June 23-28. Put in a terrible week. Made less than $10. Slept on the office floor the last couple of nights and only when in dire need. Looks like a tough Dominion Day for me, but there is always a better day coming."
There were other lonely days in the '30s when he dreamed of striking it rich, but all he could record was: "Christmas Day. All alone. How I miss the family. Tired of sitting in, so I went to the Grand and saw Jackie Oakie in Sea Legs. Peculiar I didn't get my parcel from home. Spent evening washing clothes, etc."
By 1932, Dryden had started in business -- Dryden Specialty Company of Hamilton, Ontario -- concentrating on Ever Bloom, a tonic for plants.
His faith and his drive would take a beating, but he didn't bend when Dryden had to write in his June 8, 1932 diary: "Two apples for noon dinner and tried to sell old magazines for my supper."
In 1937, he met his beloved Margaret in Hamilton. On their first date on Feb. 18, he and his future wife attended a hockey game at Toronto's Maple Leaf Gardens. Murray's cousin, Syl Apps, starred that night. Later, Dryden would become deeply involved with a number of minor-league baseball and hockey teams in the '50s.
Of course, after the Drydens married in 1938, he spent four years in the YMCA's auxiliary services, including 1 1/2 years overseas. After spending 24 years with five companies as a manufacturer's agent, he retired in 1972.
However, it was only the beginning of his mission in life.
The image of a child lying asleep that he had stumbled over in 1970 on the filthy streets of Pakistan seemed to be ingrained in his heart.
His hobby of photographing sleeping children spurred the retirement project. That's when he and Margaret decided to provide bedkits to 50 homeless kids in India.
The retirement years were particularly special for Murray and Margaret, for in 1970 they began SCAW and started raising monies for bedkits in such underdevloped countries as Ecuador, Honduras, Colombia, Panama, Thailand, India, Bangladesh, and the Philippines.
After his 15th trip around the world in 1987, a rigorous December trip into the Himalayas, followed by distribution trips to Colombia, Honduras and Ecuador, he wrote: "I know the difference between being poor in Canada and being poor in Bangladesh. Remember that they have no welfare system, no Medicare, and very few charitable organizations in these countries. It is when there is so little hope for people, such as these people in the developing countries, that we must work to improve conditions. The better reason, of course, is that they, too, are God's children."
Working out of Dryden's modest home in the Toronto area, volunteers paid their own fare and took the donations around the world.
Besides being the anchor for SCAW, Dryden, a great humanitarian, wrote such notable books as "With God Nothing Is Impossible," and "For The Love of His Children" and even co-authored a bestseller with the late Jim Hunt of the Toronto Sun, called: "Playing the Shots at Both Ends."
Today, Dave Dryden has become an inspirational leader within the charity while Judy Dryden has just returned from Bangladesh. Meanwhile, Debbie, has become passionate about her grandfather's dream.
When The Missus and I first met the late Mr. Dryden with monies for bedkits, he handed me photos of Central American kids smiling broadly and clutching their beds. Those photos are still my greatest treasures.
(FYI: Sleeping Children, 28 Pinehurst Crescent, Toronto, Ont. Canada M9A3A5 ... www.scaw.org ... Phone: 416-231-1841 ... Fax: 416-231-0120 ... Toll-free: 1-866-321-1841).

Strawberry jam stains and the Tree of Knowledge

2007-12-14T03:48:00.000-08:00

WHEN I WENT LOOKING, desperately I might add, for the Tree of Knowledge, I found it among some mouldy bread, smeared with strawberry jam, in a local dumpster.
Before you call in the guys in the white coats, let me assure you, I don't think I'm in need of an instant brain scan. Right, Nurse Goody Two Shoes?
There really is a connection between that 'Tree, ' being buried in a dumpster bin and jam-covered manna.
Before you fall asleep with the details, the 'Tree' came in seven volumes of knowledge as in the Encyclopedia Britannica -- Vol. I: A-Bib to VIII: Piranha-Scurfy. So I'm missing a few, but what do you expect when you're heavily into my latest passion -- dumpster diving.
However, before you go blathering about it, particularly, to The Missus, just remember she's already warned me about bringing strays home, even the 'Tree.'
Actually, the reason I'm bringing up this so-called "sickness," is others have it and some have even made a mint such as Esquire magazine writer, A.J. Jacobs, who had his own 'Tree.' In fact, he read all 32 volumes of the Encyclopedia and put down his hilarious findings in something he calls: The Know-It-All: One Man's Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World (Simon & Schuster).
Now on a book site, the blurb claimed Jacobs' wife, Julie, stated, emphatically, that it was a "waste of time," and his so-called pals claimed he was "losing his mind." It had been tried before, for his father, a noted lawyer, failed in completing such a task.
However, the younger Jacobs had a distinct purpose and that was "to join Mensa, win a spot on Jeopardy! and absorb 33,000 pages of learning."
Jacobs, in sidestepping the publisher's p.r. dept., went straight for the laugh track or groan machine, in most cases.
"All the great figures of the 18th and 19th century had at least two simultaneous jobs, maybe more," he wrote, adding "My favorite was a woman named Virginia Woodhull, who was both a psychic and a stockbroker (a brilliant mix. Who wouldn't want to invest with her?)"
Mr. Know-It-All also coupled other occupations from his Encyclopedia-learning escapades such as lyrist/mollusk scientist. I'll have to look that one up.
Then he put forth a tall tale about the inventor(s) of the telephone. That would be Alexander Graham Bell, right?
Well, Jacobs had another take. Apparently, on the same day -- Feb. 14, 1876 -- Bell filed for the patent, a brilliant man, Elisha Gray, had the same idea, but for whatever reason Bell got the patent. That's a real bell-ringer.
Without further ado (don't you just hate that phrase), let's turn the pages of the A-Bib volume and find out about the aardvark cucumber (Cucumis humifructus) ... "The fruit is eaten by the aardvark, which, while burying its dung, unwittingly plants the seeds of the gourd." Aren't you glad, you asked?
And so what's a bib, or pout (Trisopterus, or Gadus, luscus)? A rather deep-bodied fish with a chin barbel, three close-set dorsal fins, and two close-set anal fins ... Though abundant, it is not sought as food.
Now, the Ol' Columnist has been known to devour fish by the boatload, but the bib won't be on my plate any time soon.
However, it's time to hide these seven volumes, for The Missus just walked through the door. Maybe, I should ask her how to get strawberry jam stains off these book covers. Then, maybe, I'll just forget about it, for now.
WELL, AT LEAST I HAVE A BEARD: Another one of Jacobs' so-called epistles happens to be The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Human Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible (also from Simon & Schuster). In pursuing the subject matter, he grows an (unruly) beard, vows to follow the Ten Commandments while avoiding the wearing of clothes made of mixed fibers. He also spent time tending sheep in the Israeli desert; playing a 10-string harp and sort of attempting to "stone adulterers."

Canada's Black Friday and the Arrow Aftermath!

2007-12-11T06:58:00.000-08:00

IT REALLY wasn't a subject to be brought up at the breakfast table. But I did and later didn't regret it.
"Do you remember Black Friday?" I asked The Missus.
Suddenly, her beautiful face became a mask of contempt. It was if the lights had been shut off. It was a topic she had never expounded on; at least in my presence, and we will have been married 40 years next month.
And what would have caused the look of consternation and taken the pleasure out of her morning?
"Yes, I remember Black Friday," she said and then proceeded to explain the utter despair which surrounded Feb. 20, 1959, the day former Canadian prime minister John Diefenbaker changed the lives of thousands -- forever.
Dief The Chief, Mr. Bluster to some, had driven a stake into the very heart of cutting-edge aviation technology and grounded the highly-advanced Avro Arrow. And it had definitely affected The Missus and her then young family.
The reason for the subject ever coming up was a CBC report about some unidentified Canadian paying $32,000 for a collection of Avro Arrow memorabilia. It included company papers, employee notices, models and photos. There was also a copy of Dief's infamous speech about the plane's demise.
"Ron (her late husband Ron Webster) came home around noon," she recalled with sadness. He had been an expediter within the massive company while his father, Alex Webster, had been a tool-and-die man, who hated to fly. Other kin also worked at various "dream jobs" within the company and Dief ripped them all away.
It was a case of high hopes vanishing in a cloud of dreams gone gray.
Where would people live? Where would one get another job?
Damn that Dief was the hue and cry throughout various communities within Ontario.
For The Missus, her main concern was how would she and her husband pay the mortgage, which happened to be $89-a-month. A very low figure today, but in 1959 a steep amount, considering she and her husband were trying to raise a family in a company conclave in Georgetown, Ontario.
"I remember the engineers just packing up and moving to California and Cape Canaveral (in Florida) and telling the bank manager to just take their houses," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
For her husband, he would take on other jobs before becoming a Toronto-area policeman. He was tragically killed in a traffic accident in 1966.
For The Missus, who I'd marry on Jan. 18, 1968, she found life extremely difficult, not financially, but emotionally, and during the interim between 1966 and 1968, she worked as a file clerk for McDonnell Douglas, the successor to A.V. Roe, the maker of the great Avro Arrow.
So after all these years -- 48 and counting -- the bitter memory of Dief's terrible decision remains constant in the minds of those who were there when he slammed the doors on their "dreams."
While I've related a personal story, it didn't tell the political one.
It encompassed not only millions upon millions of dollars, but high-profile people such as Dief along with his minister of national defence, George Pearkes. And then there were suspected Russian spies and Sputnik and the "spectre of attack from space."
When Dief and his Conservatives took over in June 1957, the major pre-election promise had been to slice into "rampant Liberal spending." Of course, the Arrow project had been one of the most costly with figures such as $216 million being bandied around.
By August 1957, Dief had signed the NORAD agreement with the U.S., which meant Canada would be subordinate to their SAGE (Semi Automatic Ground Environment) project.
Then the question arose, time and time again, whether the Arrow MK 1, with its Mach 2 (1,307 mph) speeds, were needed since the Americans had the less costly and, supposedly, more dangerous Bomarc missiles.
It was a time of apprehension throughout the world and, suddenly, the Russians revealed Sputnik and its potential of attacks from space. So ballistic missiles seemed to be the wave of the future, and not the slick Arrow, in combatting the Russian threat.
Would Canada be able to afford the Arrow and also the Bomarc/SAGE?
Pearkes believed the Arrow had to go and he proposed its cancellation. Finally, Dief made the devastating announcement concerning the Arrow and Iroquois programs.
It affected some 14,000 workers at Avro and the Orenda plants and spread to some 60,000 through layoffs among the project's subcontractors.
So with the demise of the Arrow, what happened to the so-called "brain drain"?
While some just drifted, CF-105 Chief Aerodynamicist Jim Chamberlin and a team of 25 engineers joined the U.S. space projects such as Mercury, Gemini and Apollo. Others would be part of the designing team of the Concorde.
However, for others such as The Missus that Black Friday -- Feb. 20, 1959 -- would a bitter memory, which hasn't faded with time.

Canada's Black Friday and the Arrow Aftermath

2007-12-11T04:07:00.000-08:00

IT REALLY wasn't a subject to be brought up at the breakfast table. But I did and later didn't regret it.
"Do you remember Black Friday?" I asked The Missus.
Suddenly, her beautiful face became a mask of contempt. It was if the lights had been shut off. It was a topic she had never expounded on; at least in my presence, and we will have been married 40 years next month.
And what would have caused the look of consternation and taken the pleasure out of her morning?
"Yes, I remember Black Friday," she said and then proceeded to explain the utter despair which surrounded Feb. 20, 1959, the day former Canadian prime minister John Diefenbaker changed the lives of thousands -- forever.
Dief The Chief, Mr. Bluster to some, had driven a stake into the very heart of cutting-edge aviation technology and grounded the highly-advanced Avro Arrow. And it had definitely affected The Missus and her then young family.
The reason for the subject ever coming up was a CBC report about some unidentified Canadian paying $32,000 for a collection of Avro Arrow memorabilia. It included company papers, employee notices, models and photos. There was also a copy of Dief's infamous speech about the plane's demise.
"Ron (her late husband Ron Webster) came home around noon," she recalled with sadness. He had been an expediter within the massive company while his father, Alex Webster, had been a tool-and-die man, who hated to fly. Other kin also worked at various "dream jobs" within the company and Dief ripped them all away.
It was a case of high hopes vanishing in a cloud of dreams gone gray.
Where would people live? Where would one get another job?
Damn that Dief was the hue and cry throughout various communities within Ontario.
For The Missus, her main concern was how would she and her husband pay the mortgage, which happened to be $89-a-month. A very low figure today, but in 1959 a steep amount, considering she and her husband were trying to raise a family in a company conclave in Georgetown, Ontario.
"I remember the engineers just packing up and moving to California and Cape Canaveral (in Florida) and telling the bank manager to just take their houses," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
For her husband, he would take on other jobs such as one across the street with Orenda Engines Ltd. before becoming a Toronto-area policeman. He was tragically killed in a traffic accident in 1966.
For The Missus, who I'd marry on Jan. 18, 1968, she found life extremely difficult, not financially, but emotionally, and during the interim between 1966 and 1968, she worked as a file clerk for McDonnell Douglas, the successor to A.V. Roe, the maker of the great Avro Arrow.
So after all these years -- 48 and counting -- the bitter memory of Dief's terrible decision remains constant in the minds of those who were there when he slammed the doors on their "dreams."
While I've related a personal story, it didn't tell the political one.
It encompassed not only millions upon millions of dollars, but high-profile people such as Dief along with his minister of national defence, George Pearkes. And then there were suspected Russian spies and Sputnik and the "spectre of attack from space."
When Dief and his Conservatives took over in June 1957, the major pre-election promise had been to slice into "rampant Liberal spending." Of course, the Arrow project had been one of the most costly with figures such as $216 million being bandied around.
By August 1957, Dief had signed the NORAD agreement with the U.S., which meant Canada would be subordinate to their SAGE (Semi Automatic Ground Environment) project.
Then the question arose, time and time again, whether the Arrow MK 1, with its Mach 2 (1,307 mph) speeds, were needed since the Americans had the less costly and, supposedly, more dangerous Bomarc missiles.
It was a time of apprehension throughout the world and, suddenly, the Russians revealed Sputnik and its potential of attacks from space. So ballistic missiles seemed to be wave of the future, and not the slick Arrow, in combatting the Russian threat.
Would Canada be able to afford the Arrow and also the Bomarc/SAGE?
Pearkes believed the Arrow had to go and he proposed its cancellation. Finally, Dief made the devastating announcement concerning the Arrow and Iroquois programs.
It affected some 14,000 workers at Avro and the Orenda plants and spread to some 60,000 through layoffs among the project's subcontractors.
So with the demise of the Arrow, what happened to the so-called "brain drain"?
While some just drifted, CF-105 Chief Aerodynamicist Jim Chamberlin and a team of 25 engineers joined the U.S. space projects such as Mercury, Gemini and Apollo. Others would be part of the designing team of the Concorde.
However, for others such as The Missus that Black Friday -- Feb. 20, 1959 -- would a bitter memory, which hasn't faded away with time.

Another Side To A 'Very Dangerous' Summit

2007-11-27T12:45:00.000-08:00

THE WORDS had barely been uttered by Mahmoud Abbas, when a chill went up and down my spine. "We need East Jerusalem to be our capital," said the Palestinian leader, who has sometimes been referred to as "Yasser Arafat in a better-fitting suit."
As a former Middle East bureau chief for a major news-gathering organization, based in Jerusalem, when Abbas mouthed those words, it brought the message home, loud and clear to me of his fractured government's intentions. Then he followed it up with a caveat of "and to establish open relations with West Jerusalem."
While the rhetoric, which involved not only the Palestinians, but Israeli prime minister Ehud Olmert, and the "orchestra conductor" U.S. President George Bush, seemed innocent enough during the opening of the Annapolis "peace" summit, the Palestinians have already marked out the Jewish homeland for their use.
In the past, as historians will tell you, Arafat and his henchmen, which included Abbas, had the objective of driving Israel into the sea, but apparently now have taken a different tact and are trying the diplomatic route to achieve their objective.
However, the dangers of such rhetoric could take on Biblical proportions.
On Nov. 4, 1995, former Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated at the end of a rally in support of the Oslo agreements at the Kings of Israel Square in Tel Aviv. And then there's another PM, Ariel Sharon, who has been comatose since Jan. 4, 2006, following a massive stroke. Sharon had endorsed the Road Map for Peace, and had opened a dialogue with Abbas.
Whether there is a connection between Rabin's death and Sharon's present condition is still a matter of conjecture, but countless Biblical scholars and even politicians agree that Bush, Olmert and Abbas are confronting the All-Mighty.
Since a multitude believe Jerusalem (both East and West) to be God's Holy City and belongs to the Jewish people, and not the Muslims, there will always be war over it.
Bill Wilson, a senior analyst based in Washington, D.C., was quoted prior to the summit, as saying, "Spiritually, President Bush and his administration are at cross-purposes to prophetic passages in the Bible that pertain to Israel. Bush is insistent on Israel giving up its traditional Biblical lands for a peace agreement with so-called Palestinians."
The use of the words, "so-called Palestinians," seems to be quite contentious for some say there's no such place as Palestine, which has become a catch word within the Bush contingent. Some claim those in Gaza, including the terrorists such as Hamas, and from the West Bank are just displaced peoples from Jordan and elsewhere in the Middle East.
Wilson also pointed out Gaza had deteriorated into a "lawless base of terror" and would never be able to co-exist in harmony with Israel. In addition, the analyst believed Bush had only moved a "spiritual stronghold" from the Middle East to Annapolis.
The Bush-Olmert-Abbas summit, which also involved more than 40 nations, has all the elements for disaster.
Bill Koenig, a respected Washington newsman and a possible U.S. presidential candidate in 2008, in his newsletter outlined major "Acts of God" that coincided with the timing of U.S. pressure on Israel to give up The Land.
Briefly here are three of them:
* Oct. 30, 1991: U.S. President Bush (the father) opens the Madrid Conference concerning a "peace plan involving Israel's land." On the same day, "the Perfect Storm," including 100-foot waves hit the New England coast, causing heavy damage to Bush's Kennebunkport home;
* August 23, 1992: The Madrid Conference moves to Washington, D.C. and talks resume. On that day, one of the worst natural disasters, Hurricane Andrew, lashed Florida, leaving 180,000 homeless and causing $30 billion in damage;
* May 3, 1999: This is the same day in Israel that Arafat is scheduled to declare a Palestinian state with Jerusalem as the capital. That same day, winds clocked at 316 mph sweeps across Oklahoma and Kansas.
Coincidence? Perhaps.
As the Annapolis summit opened, two Israeli quake experts, Shmuel Marko and Oded Katz, said: "We know that the area between the Kinneret and the Dead Sea was subject to several large quakes, in 31 BC, 362 BC, 549 BC and 1033 AD. Another major one is coming soon."
Another 'Act of God'?

November 22, 1963: A Time Of Sorrow and Tears

2007-11-23T01:11:00.000-08:00

THERE ARE TIMES of total recall. November 22, 1963 was definitely one for me. That day, or perhaps, week stands as vividly in my mind as if it were yesterday. Maybe, even more so as one ages.
It was a day, some 44 years ago, when the dreams of what seemed to be the entire world, were shattered in a million little pieces and tears flowed like rain. They still do today and were flowing as I began to write this column.
Some 44 years ago, John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.
Where were you? Did you, too, have tears in your eyes?
For me, I was half asleep in my hotel room at the Sheraton-Connaught, across the street from the Hamilton Spectator, where I had worked the overnight sports desk. In my foggy brain, I still hear a funeral dirge from the black-and-white TV set at the end of my bed.
Why would there be funeral music?
There had been a bulletin from CBS News that "three shots were fired at President Kennedy's motorcade in downtown Dallas ... The first reports say that President Kennedy has been seriously wounded by this shooting. More details just arrived ... these details about the same as previously, President Kennedy shot today just as his motorcade left downtown Dallas. Mrs. Kennedy jumped up and grabbed Mr. Kennedy, she called 'Oh no!", the motorcade sped on. United Press (International) says that the wounds for President Kennedy perhaps could be fatal. Repeating a bulletin from CBS News, President Kennedy has been shot by a would-be assassin in Dallas, Texas. Stay tuned to CBS News for further details."
Suddenly, my head cleared and CBS' "voice of reason," Walter Cronkite took off his glasses and his words pierced my very soul as it did millions upon millions of others:
"From Dallas, Texas, the flash, apparently official: President Kennedy died at 1 p.m. (CST) some 38 minutes ago."
The loss of our innocence and the Camelot expectations of my generation seemed to be dashed in a matter of seconds. Although in future years others would be glued to TV sets concerning Nixon's fall from grace and later the dramatic O.J. episodes, none could be compared to the heartbreak, which surrounded Cronkite's emotional words and the quiver in his voice.
In recounting a Wikipedia report, Cronkite actually told a TV interviewer in 2006: "I choked up, I really had a little trouble ... my eyes got a little wet ... Fortunately, I grabbed hold before I was actually (crying)."
Dressing quickly I wandered across the street to the newspaper and stayed there during that crushing Friday and into Saturday, assisting in putting the front sections of The Spec together. It was like a morgue as veteran newsmen held back the tears until the editions rolled off the presses.
That Saturday night, the bars were packed; even hardened editors were crying in their beer (or their drink of choice) and some staggered along the streets to their respective homes while even sympathetic policemen, for at least a few nights, ignored any indiscretions.
On Sunday afternoon, the football stadium was packed with Tiger-Cat fans, but it was noticeable that the transistor radios were tuned, not only to the local broadcaster, but to bulletins concerning the Kennedy assassination. After all, the world was in love with the Kennedys, and, in particular, with JFK's wife, Jacqueline.
And then came a double shocker and my mind drifted away from watching someone fling a football when a bulletin announced that JFK's assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, had been shot in the basement of the Dallas jail.
Later, I learned of what veteran and respected reporter, Peter Worthington, remembered about that terrible day and the aftermath. In his 1984 book, Looking For Trouble, Worthington recalled that "most people who were around at the time can remember with almost total recall what they were doing the precise moment they heard the news that (President John Kennedy had been shot in Dallas) that Friday noon of November 22, 1963."
Worthington's recollections included him being sent to Dallas and being an eye-witness as Jack Ruby shot Oswald. In an excerpt, Worthington wrote: " ... a squat man in a fedora plunged from the crowd toward the group and suddenly there was the muffled crack of a shot. I felt the shock waves of the discharge hit my abdomen, and afterward Detective Lowry and I compared notes and remarked that we were lucky the guy was a good shot ..."
So not only Worthington, the outstanding journalist whom I had the privilege of working with at the Toronto Telegram and the Toronto Sun, and myself, as well as millions of others, have total recall concerning that weekend of a time when the entire planet mourned. Conspiracy theories still abound some 44 years later, but one thing is for certain: The dreams of Camelot died with dramatic suddenness on that November day in Dallas.

Wandering Griff Comes Home, Alive and Sore!

2007-11-23T00:55:00.000-08:00

BULLETIN (Friday, Nov. 23, 2007): After six days of wandering in a fire-scarred and mountainous area of British Columbia, Griff came home late Thursday afternoon, exhausted and sore, but very much alive.
His soreness will heal and he'll be back to his normal rambunctious self in a few days, and, perhaps, his wandering days are finally over after such a trying ordeal.
On Thursday afternoon, he collapsed when he finally arrived at a nearby motel's front yard, hungry and dehyrated.
His family appreciates the great concern for his safe return of the local neighbourhood and beyond.
Below is the newspaper column which appeared on Wednesday, Nov. 21, 2007:
***
He drools while chomping at any semblance of food. In other words, Griff's a hulking, lovable lug of a St. Bernard -- and he's missing.
While the world ponders the latest from the resident Ahmadman, The Missus has been crying and Susan has been holding her head in her hands. Bill B. and the Ol' Columnist, meanwhile, have been sulking while spinning our wheels in the backroads of B.C.
Yes, Griff (or Griffey to some) has been among the missing since Saturday morning and his family is already in mourning. Of course, there have been reports from insensitive residents that if he had been chasing deer up in the mountains, they would have turned on him and killed him. When I heard that word, it shook me to my boottops.
Then another claimed that if a nearby "bitch" was in heat, Griff would have been solicited for his "services." Of course, I didn't bother to tell them he'd been "fixed."
This tale of woe began Saturday morning around the Ol' Homestead. There was the usual visitations to the back stoop; the little Lab named Sadie, stalwart Benny, known as The Philosopher, and the "wanderer" Griff all expected a (dog) biscuit or two or a dozen. Griff slobbered as he woofed down his share and then he and Sadie left.
At noon, I asked the question: "Where's Griff and Sadie?"
Everyone had a blank look on their faces.
Then the suggestions came. "Maybe, they wandered down by the river," said one. It had been something that his family had often feared since Little Sadie always tagged along with her friend, Griff.
The hours passed by, and as darkness settled in around Whispering Pines, there was no sign of either one of them.
Then the search party continued patrolling the area, shining flashlights into fields and as the winds picked up, a chill went through my bones as I drove along Highway 97 towards Falkland. No sign of either one of them.
On my return to the Ol' Homestead, Bill B. told me: "Sadie's home." Then he quickly added, "But there's no sign of Griff."
Sadie was exhausted as she showed up, whining at the door. She hadn't been down by the river since her shiny black coat wasn't wet, but her feet were tender and she was hungry from her day-long ordeal.
"Let's get some sleep," someone suggested, knowing full well that was the last thing on our minds.
As a feeble light welcomed Sunday morning, the search began anew.
The cries of "Griff, Griff," could be heard throughout the entire Pines' area. Our green "chariot" again searched the ditches, under area bridges and even among the cattle in numerous fields ... no sign of Griff.
"At least Sadie came home," one said. There was no relief in that statement.
Throughout Sunday, the Ol' Columnist pasted up posters with a picture of a short-haired St. Bernard in the neighbourhood, which read: "Where's Griff ??? Beautiful St. Bernard Missing Since Saturday In Whispering Pines Area. Call 379-2757 or 379-2980."
Monday the search slowed to a crawl; no one had seen the lovable lug with a tattoo inside one of his sensitive ears. He had vanished.
Then I began to find out more about one of the world's most favorite breeds. On a number of websites, the St. Bernard is identified as being very ancient and especially famous for rescuing lost travelers near the hospice of Great St. Bernard in the Swiss Alps. Those lovable dogs are also known for their acute hearing, which far exceeds human beings.
If that is true, can you hear me calling: "C'mon home, Griff, your family misses you."

When Both Mess and I Had Hair

2007-11-16T06:04:00.000-08:00

IT BEGAN IN CHURCH. Yes, there I was sitting in the pew and I felt someone looking down on the crown of my head. It was then I envisioned millions of eyes staring from on high at the bald circle where there once had been masses of hair.
The last of one's manhood seemed to be weighed in the balance and I was found wanting.
That's when I could hear jeers concerning my noggin,' spitting out derision: "Hey, Baldy, where'd your hair go?" and also "Can we use your head for a bowling ball, Buster?"
The shame of it all.
I once had locks upon locks. There was a treasured photo, which incidentally, was taken only some 25 years ago, give or take a couple of years, showing this then-fashionable executive editor (Edmonton Sun) with curly hair and a black beard, soliciting television viewers to call in offers to a Superband Seat Sale. However, if you could look over my shoulder, there was a young, blond-haired man on the telephone.
Now who is that? Ah, now I know. It's none other than the great (and now bald) superstar Mark Messier and sitting next to him, the now general manager of the NHL Edmonton Oilers, Kevin Lowe, who still has a full head of hair to this day.
So what happened to Messier's hair, and mine. It seemed to have gone with the wind.
In pursuing my plan to mow the remaining hair on my head, I started to thumb through a recent copy of a Vancouver (or was it the Kelowna newspaper?) and there was a bald Messier, one of hockey's senior statesmen at age 46. He's a recent inductee into the Hockey Hall of Fame -- looking distinguished with a bald pate.
Would The Missus really understand if I took the electric razor to my noggin'?
After all, I remember, she almost went ballistic some years back when I was preparing for a movie role as a dastardly villain. After shaving my locks the bumps became evident and she claimed that I looked like Godzilla's brother. "You better grow your hair back or you can find another place to live. I did and swore on a stack of dictionaries never to do such a deed again, even for money.
When I went researching about hair loss words such as "androgenetic alopecia" came to the fore and then I happened to start reading through The Times of India website and came upon a list of things I could do to stimulate hair growth such as:
* Soak fenugreek (what in the Sam Hill is that?) in deep pot of water throughout the night. Massage the liquid into the scalp and wrap with a cloth for three hours. Repeat every day for one month.
* Massage the scalp with uncooked egg yolk, leave for one hour and wash.
* Smear castor oil on the scalp and the hair roots but not on the hair, wrap the hair with a newspaper, tie with a cloth and leave overnight, wash in the morning. Repeat every 7-10 days (results will come after 6-7 treatments).
All those treatments I couldn't handle, so I think I'll just shave my head. After all Dr. Phil and that game-show host from Toronto did and they're successful. And then there's Superstar Mark Messier.
Whether The Missus accepts my new look, only time will tell. If she doesn't my next 100 columns will arrive from some remote outpost.
Hey, does anyone have a spare room for rent?

The dream never dies, just the dreamers

2007-11-09T02:40:00.000-08:00

BOTH LYLE HARRON and Hayseed Stephens were dreamers. One was my best friend; the other was the man I most admired. And both had a passion for Israel and that in the Last Days, oil would be discovered in that Biblical land.
Harron and Stephens believed such a "miracle" find would occur when the world was facing its final days with enemies confronting it on every side.
The reason I thought of these two men was the fears, which has sent shivers across the world, that Israel's bitterest enemy, Iran, was closing in on nuclear weaponry and the posture of its vile dictator, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, could be an imminent warning to not only Israel, but the rest of the planet. And another bulletin had Israel planning a pre-emptive strike on Iran's nuke facilities.
In quoting from Thursday's London Times, both the U.S. and Western allies believe Iran is not using its nuke program for electrical production purposes, but as a "cover for weapon development."
And what could be a saving point for Israel, which has always been the No. 1 target, and followed by the U.S., would be the world's "lifeline" -- oil.
When I met Harron for the first time near Edmonton in 1984, I thought he was kind of peculiar, only because of what he wore -- everything in red, even his socks. I would later learn such a dress code signified the "Blood of Christ." However, he had a belief that oil in Israel would be significant in the troubled days ahead..
This one-time bank manager and his kind and compassionate wife, Doreen, were heavily involved in oil exploration near Netanya, Israel, and in traveling throughout the world; spreading the Gospel and showing kindness and love for their fellow human beings.
In November, 1990, Harron was my guide throughout Ethiopia and then in opening my eyes to The Land, traveling to the "Good Fence," which separates the war zone of Lebanon and Israel and also to the south and the Dead Sea and the great fortress, known as Masada.
We would later travel throughout Israel in 1999 when I was the Middle East bureau chief for a major news-gathering organization, and based in Jerusalem.
And then there was respected Texas oil man, Harold (Hayseed) Stephens. In 1998, he told me that he expected a $30-million, six-to-eight-month project to uncover the world's largest oil field atop a salt dome at the southwest end of the Dead Sea.
"Until now, Israel's Islamic enemies have possessed nearly 75 per cent of the world's oil reserves with Israel's supply only a fraction of that," I wrote at the time, adding, "It's reported that Islamic nations such as Saudi Arabia, all sworn enemies of the tiny Jewish state, have trillions of barrels while Israel has only enough oil to supply itself for about one and a half days and depends on other countries for the remainder."
After a tragic car accident involving his family cut short his playing days with the now-defunct New York Titans, Stephens returned to Texas to make his fortune in the oil business and to the fast life of gambling and booze. However, in January 1978, Stephens, who had been "partying" for days, had an experience like the Apostle Paul on the Damascus Road.
A meeting in 1982 played a key role in establishing Stephens' relationship with Israel and the Jewish people. Stephens said he felt to give then-Israeli PM Menachen Begin a large, Texas cowboy hat and it was then that Begin, unknowingly, spoke prophetic words: "Maybe, you will be the one to come and find oil in Israel."
Two hours later, Stephens recalled the Lord spoke to him, telling him the "greatest oil field in the world," lay beneath the southwest end of the Dead Sea.
While Hayseed Stephens passed away in May, 2003 and Lyle Harron in August, 2006, the "dream" of finding oil in Israel has never died. And with such searing present-day threats from the likes of Ahmadinejad, this would be the ideal time for such prophecy to be realized.

Of Benny and Little Sadie With The Dirty Nose

2007-11-07T06:23:00.000-08:00

THE RITUAL begins at 7 in the morning. Benny, the floppy-eared Philosopher, and his companion, Sadie, the sprightly 'little girl' with the dirty nose, arrive at the Ol' Homestead's back door. Several hours later, Griff the Wanderer, might choose to pay a visit. In the doorway, Molly, the Sophisticated (Cat) Lady, peers out with a certain disdain. Of course, I'm writing about dogs and a cat that truly are a part of my family.
Just when this scribbler was about to "pontificate" on the latest happenings in Pakistan and also about a Saudi cleric, who explains "wife beating" with a toothpick (I'm not kidding you), Mark R. Levin, a well-known radio talk show host and lawyer, appeared on TV. And what was he talking about? His latest book: Rescuing Sprite, which has been described as a "stunningly intimate look at the love between a family and a dog."
So Levin, who had earlier written a bestseller called Men In Black: How the Supreme Court Is Destroying America, and is a "talker" on WABC in New York, has a way with words, but his heart was showing when he wrote about Sprite and an inseparable companion named Pepsi. Yes, both were named after the beverages.
For me, this love affair with animals began during the WWII years in Pictou, Nova Scotia. With my father working under the boats and my mother trying to keep this once-little tyke, Kerwood, from getting into too much mischief, a constant companion was a dog named Sport.
Wandering through fields and along country backroads, Sport was my closest friend, and then he stopped by a nearby army base, and my parents told me later he had been fed some tainted meat. It was the first heartbreak of my young life.
And then there was a separation from the animal kingdom. At the end of my road in Bass River was a "monster" of a dog, which eyed me like a bone, particularly when I was trying to pedal past him on my one-speed bicycle.
Also in my neighbourhood was a collie named Pal, but for whatever reason he "attacked" my baby brother, Garry (now a Winnipeg psychologist). His life was, undoubtedly, saved by heavy winter clothing.
So two bad experiences sidelined my "love affair" until moving to the Ol' Homestead in the mid-1990s. In the intervening years, there have been the likes of Abby, Kay-a, Brutus, Amos, and a black Lab named Jake, whom The Missus and I had helped nurse back to health.
"Skakey, shakey, Jake-y" was a common phrase as this "family member" tried to dislodge wax (or other substances) from his ears. However, now Jake has passed on, and I still miss his pleasant personality.
That brings me to the threesome of Benny, who often listens to my troubles without ever judging me, and Sadie, the one with the dirty nose, and hulking Griff. As I said they are this man's best friends.
Which leads me back to Levin and his heart-warming dog story, in which he was traumatized by Sprite's death and of friends such as Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity, which were able to support him through his time of grief.
As a dog lover, I can hardly wait until Rescuing Sprite hits the bookstands.
"Now, Benny and Sadie, let's go for a walk ... Hey, does anyone know where Griff has gone?" Molly the Sophisticated (Cat) Lady just turned up her nose and walked away and I thought I heard her meow: "Peasants."

Grumps' Grumblings: When O stands for Owe

2007-11-02T03:29:00.000-07:00

IF GRANDPA REACHES was running the 2010 Winter Olympics, he would be growling: "Knock it off!"
But the old shaman from the aging flick, Thunderheart, isn't involved, but someone has definitely conned British Columbians (probably both you and me) to fork out C$883 million ($914 million) for just a place for some button-downed and over-priced media types to plunk their (fat) rearends.
A definite shell game of Olympic proportions. And, if Canadian taxpayers had any gumption, they would be yelling in groves that they're being robbed blind by some slicksters in pinstripes.
Probably, you've read the story, but I had been oblivious to this travesty until running across a Reuters report out of Vancouver; and there in black and white it read right in the lead paragraph: "The rush to build Vancouver's new convention centre, which will be home to the media during the 2010 Winter Olympics, has caused the project's costs to skyrocket ..." Yadda, yadda, ya!
Now, I know the media, the report referred to, has to include those prime-time and pampered TV types, but closing in on a billion bucks for squatter's rights seems downright ludicrous. What are the lounges outfitted in refined gold with matching personal liquor cabinets and side dishes of filet mignon? For that cost overrun they should be.
Perhaps, there's a payoff after the short-lived Games are finally over, but let one of those Olympic tub-thumpers tell you the countless benefits of such a convention centre and then check your pockets (or purse).
Now, this Ol' Columnist enjoys the finer things of life (at least I can dream about them), but there was a time when I covered major events such as a string of Super Bowls, Indianapolis 500s, NHL playoff games and major-league soccer extravaganzas, and they all did cost mega-dollars, but close to a billion for international broadcasters and other media is enough to give the provincial auditor an Olympic-sized ulcer. And throw in a thumping heart murmur as well.
The luxury penthouse to house thousands of yahoos from parts unknown might be swell in telling their grandchildren what luxurious working conditions they were given in downtown Vancouver, but at who's expense?
Of course, my false teeth started to grind even more when I realized the plans for this centre began in 2002 and the Ottawa and Victoria politicians apparently offered a projected budget of C$495 million.
Now five years later, it's up to C$883 million and you can bet, with inflation and design changes, it'll be even higher when the Games begin.
And for what? Prestige? No, for the right to say to our children and grandchildren that we couldn't afford to pay for it in our lifetime, so kiddies, you'll have the privilege of dealing with it down the road.
Once upon a time -- back on Nov. 13, 2006 -- the price tag was a measly $615 million, according to a Vancouver Sun reporter, and Tourism, Sports and the Arts Minister Stan Hagen was seeking a further provincial handout.
Don't you just love it when they start throwing around a million or a hundred million of your money?
So why did the price tag suddenly go through the stratosphere? Well, one bigwig claimed it was all so complicated and then there was something called "the perfect storm" whistling through the construction industry.
Since I have a headache from bantering about figures from C$495 million to $883 million and counting, I think I'll move on to what's waiting when the actual 2010 Winter Olympics begin.
Hidden away in all this backslapping and glad-handing was B.C. acting auditor general Arn van Iersel's terse report from Thursday, Sept. 14, 2006 in which he said the cost of Vancouver's version of the Big Owe would be a minimum of $2.5 billion and $1.5 billion would come from the province -- that's You and Me again. The Big Deal was, originally, supposed to cost, I think, in the neighbourhood of C$1.6 billion with the B.C. brass tossing in something like $600 million.
Van Iersel, at the time, claimed the pencil-pushers apparently sidestepped such things as Sea-to-Sky Highway upgrades ($775 mil); the B.C. Olympic Secretariat ($41 mil) and $8 mil for rapid transit to the athletes' village.
Just think, only three years away from watching the luge or the biathlon or my favorite, the bobsleigh showdowns.
C'mon, Uzbekistan.
***
MYTH CONCEPTIONS (From Uncle John's Bathroom Reader) -- Myth: The Great Wall of China is visible from the moon. Truth: No manmade objects are visible from that far out in space. According to astronomers, it's about as visible from the moon as a popsicle stick would be from 240 miles away ... Myth: S.O.S. stands for "Save Our Ship." Truth: It doesn't stand for anything -- it was selected as a distress signal because it's easy to transmit in Morse code: 3 dots, 3 dashes, 3 dots.

Billy Mills, Legendary Dream Chaser

2007-10-17T01:24:00.000-07:00

IT WAS A NAME from my past -- Billy Mills.
Now the legendary Olympic champion might have faded from most people's memory banks, but not to mine. In fact, his name was in the news just a week or so ago when he spoke about chasing a dream to some 175 people, mostly cross-country runners and their parents, in a Chicago area school cafeteria.
"Identify and follow your dream. Every dream has a passion; every passion has a destiny. Find the eagles' wings in you," he told the group. As usual, Mills was inspiring in this age when most so-called heroes have been soiled, from the likes of Michael Vick to an assembly of Hollywood types.
But not Billy Mills.
If you don't recognize the name; he's been an inspiration to an entire nation, but this Oglala Lakota was once just a poor Indian boy, growing up in poverty on the Pine Ridge reservation in South Dakota.
However, as he is oft to explain, a legendary figure, Crazy Horse, changed his life. So much so that Mills soared like an eagle during the 1964 Tokyo Olympics and then embarked on instilling pride in his "nation." Later he would become an author of 'Wokini: A Lakota Journey to Happiness and Self-Understanding,' which he collaborated with prolific writer Nicholas Sparks of 'Message in a Bottle' fame.
Besides those credentials, he was the subject of a 1983 movie, 'Running Brave,' in which this columnist had a role, and I'll explain about that later on.
But back to Mills and his connection with his hero, the oft-maligned Crazy Horse.
"When I was a nine-year-old youngster on the reservation on Pine Ridge my dad told me of a rumor that Crazy Horse would be carved in our sacred lands. That's the first time I had heard of this great war chief, the spiritual leader among the Lakota, " Mills wrote, adding, "Crazy Horse challenged me to follow my dreams. We've all heard Martin Luther King say, "I have a dream." Crazy Horse is challenging many, many Lakota people to simply follow their dream. He set a pattern for us to follow the dream."
While Crazy Horse has been described as a great warrior, Mills explained, in detail, what his concept of a "warrior" is in four areas from assuming responsibility; never forgetting humility; the power of giving and also centres it around "his or her core of spirituality."
Mills was also clear in describing a warrior's four desires including his or her wanting to be unique; wanting to belong; making a creatuive difference to society; and also wanting to understand and to promote understanding.
As New West Network's Bill Schneider, in a recent article, wrote that Mills' most inspiring moment came in the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, when facing unbelievable odds, he passed favorites Ron Clarke and Mohamed Gammoudi like a bolt of lightning to collect the gold medal in the 10,000 meters. (YouTube.com still carries that incredible footage and its reenactment certainly can be seen in the movie, 'Running Brave').
This was a man, who overcame incredible adversity, as Schneider's article recalled, (Mills) was "living in the back seat of a car during high school ... and dragging home a bed-bug-ridden mattress from a dump to sleep on ... and of being beaten up by his best friends because he refused to get drunk with them ... and more challenges than any of us have ever faced."
Mills, in this age of self-centred glorification, has been an inspiration to generations of youth and in Schneider's article it was never more obvious, for at age of eight after his mother died, his father told him, "son, now you have broken wings, but if you follow your dream, you can have the wings of an eagle."
He is a man of inspiration even in his 60s and is a noble warrior in every sense with a solid background in business plus raising money for charity and also having in the neighbourhood of 75 speaking engagements a year.
In the early 1980s, Mills was the hero of a film called 'Running Brave,' which was shot in Edmonton and near Drumheller, Alta., and starred Robbie Benson in the title role with August Schellenberg as Billy's father and this columnist as a carnival fighter, The Viking.
Although, I didn't get to meet Mills at the time, the film unfolds with a fight scene, in which the father wins, but dies the following day of a heart attack.
One of the most striking parts of Schneider's all-encompassing article, was the fact that since those "glory days" of the 1964 Olympics, Mills certainly hasn't been standing still; inspiring youth throughout the world to "empower yourself," and "don't be a quitter."
SPEAKING OF FLICKS (From Uncle John's Bathroom Reader): Movie -- Ben Hur (1959). Scene -- The chariot scene. Blooper -- A red sports car is driving by the Colosseum in the distance ... Movie -- Gandi (1982). Scene -- Crowd scene. Blooper -- One of the peasants is wearing Adidas tennis shoes.

'The Gipper' back in the headlines

2007-10-12T01:49:00.000-07:00

GEORGE GIPP was a legend in his day -- and he's even one today, some 86 years after his death.
He is part of the sporting lexicon and the line: "Win one for the Gipper," always brings a smile to my face. However, last Thursday, there was a desecration of sorts in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. That's when historian Michael Bynum, with the acquiescence of Gipp's great-nephew, Rick Frueh of Chicago, had the body exhumed.
The reason was apparently done for DNA testing so the results could be included in Bynum's upcoming book on Gipp.
However, there was fury that such a thing was done and as one relative told the Houghton, Mich. Mining Gazette, "it's a sacrilege against our community up here, the Gipp name, and the people."
In addition, the ESPN crew claimed they only were documenting it and didn't play a role in the exhumation.
While the Gipp's Notre Dame accomplishments have faded with time, his supposedly death-bed lines still resonate through most people's minds:
"I've got to go, Rock. It's all right. It's all right. I'm not afraid. Some time, Rock, when the team is up against it, when things are wrong and the breaks are beating the boys -- tell them to go in there with all they've got and win just one for the Gipper. I don't know where I'll be then, Rock. But I'll know about it, and I'll be happy."
Although Gipp died from pneumonia on Dec. 14, 1920, it wasn't until a November 1928 game against Army that those inspiring words of "Win one for the Gipper" were apparently used. And they did win.
That famous line has been used throughout North America when teams faced tough odds. It became a political slogan for Ronald Reagan (he played Gipp in the 1940 movie classic, Knute Rockne, All American) as he ascended to the U.S. presidency and it was later even used by the Bushes.
Besides Gipp's prowess as a sensational runner, passer, defensive back, punter, kicker and kick returner on the football field, he had gone to Notre Dame on a baseball scholarship and had wanted to join the Chicago Cubs following graduation. However, death overtook him much too soon, at age 25.
While Gipp's name has been thrust into the news in the past few days, his legacy lives on, on the Internet because of CMC Worldwide chairman and CEO Mark Roesler. His 26-year-old marketing and management company has become the dominant force in "the evolving intellectual property arena" and one of his clients happens to be the estate of the late George Gipp.
Roesler launched his organization with this mission: "I believed it was possible to protect the rights of famous deceased people and to provide their families with control and money they deserved." And he's been a tiger in protecting those rights and has spread his "gospel" throughout the world with its headquarters in Indianapolis with additional offices in Los Angeles and Rio de Janeiro.
If you look up in the dictionary, you probably could find Roesler's name listed under Entrepreneur, for he first put himself through college -- DePauw and Indiana U -- by owning a roofing company and delving into real estate.
With this background, he joined Curtis Publishing, which supplied Saturday Evening Post and became licensing manager of the great Norman Rockwell's artwork.
Later he became an advocate for heirs of deceased celebrities, who had been denied any rights concerning names or likeness being used, according to his bio.
Today, Roesler and his team look after more than 200 clients and, indeed, the list is impressive to say the least:
In the entertainment field, there's Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Ingrid Bergman, Errol Flynn, Rock Hudson, Ginger Rogers, Alan Ladd, Telly Savalas, Dudley Moore, Natalie Wood, Marlon Brando. Some of his clientele are among the living and he makes he/she available for personal appearances such as Sophia Loren and Mickey Rooney.
The music list includes Duke Ellington, Glenn Miller, Billie Holiday, Cass Elliott, Buddy Rich, Benny Goodman, Tammy Wynette, and the late Tiny Tim.
The sports list includes Jesse Owens, Joe Louis, Babe Ruth, Rocky Marciano, Thurman Munson, Vince Lombardi, Arthur Ashe, and, of course, George (The Gipper) Gipp.
There's a historical section and ecompasses such names as General George S. Patton, Jr., Mark Twain, Will Rogers, Frank Lloyd Wright and Amelia Earhart.
In summation, Roesler and the CMP team of lawyers "police" the Net against cyber squatters and assuring his lengthy roster of legends are fully protected. For further information, check out MarkRoesler.com/ and cmgww.com/ and also his claim that "we've built our business on being very litigious." That means he's a fighter for the rights of mainly deceased stars and their surviving families in the celebrity-marketing business.

Grumps' Grumblings: 'Tis the season for us, jocks

2007-10-05T01:28:00.000-07:00

ACTUALLY, I'd sworn on a stack of Baseball Digests I wouldn't bring up the subject. However, it's just too vital to every male, and even a segment of females, on this planet to bypass.
No, I'm not talking about the political ramifications surrounding The Hill (Ottawa) or The Capitol (Washington, D.C.) or even Britney Spears' questionable mothering skills, but the latest happenings in the Valley of the Jocks.
While The Missus was determined to fill her daily menu with Dr. Phil, Judge Judy, O'Reilly and even the late, late reruns of Audacious Bill. I was equally passionate in ruling the roost with the baseball playoff openers, the opening faceoffs to the NHL season along with the latest clips from the NFL and CFL. After all, it is October and the annual convergence of all things sporting.
So there I was on Wednesday sinking low in an easy chair with a pop by my side and tuning in to the Colorado Rockies and Phillies' contest from Philadelphia. And guess who was on the mound for the Rockies? None other than Boomer Francis, the 6-5, 205-pound sensation from North Delta, B.C.
Now, as everyone should know, Jeff Francis has other credentials than owning a winning 17-9 record during the National League season, for he's a one-time physics and astronomy major at UBC.
When looking up his scientific data in something called Symmetry, I found that Francis could actually discuss the Magnus Force, but in that same article Francis downplayed his being an intellectual and was quoted as saying, "I can't get any more crossword clues that anyone else."
Just as I was watching Francis' masterful performance, The Missus tapped me on the shoulder and said: "Listen, this game had better be over before Dr. Phil comes on."
That's when I whispered under my breath, "C'mon, Jeff, hold those Phillies in check and do it pronto." He did for a 4-2 opening playoff win.
Without thinking (is that your problem, too?) I thought I could alleviate any tension by mentioning the Red Sox and LA Angels would be playing next. It was met with a frown.
During the "intermission" between games, I retired to my office and uncovered a boxful of aging Baseball Digests that Mr. Bill had hoarded away in his stash of great literature.
So here's one from August 1971 with a picture of Vida Blue, followed by the words: Baseball's Most Exciting Young Pitcher and also turn lines to Mickey Mantle: "The Game I'll Never Forget" and on Page 86, writer Bob Du Vall asked the dramatic question of Whatever Became Of ... Del Crandall, Joe DeMaestri, Forrest (Smoky) Burgess, Vic Lombardi and Erv Dusak?
The minutes ticked away as I found an article on the 1969 World Series when the Amazin' New York Mets toppled the Baltimore Orioles and it brought back memories which I still savour to this day.
There I was, a young sportswriter for the late, great Toronto Telegram, rubbing shoulders with the Ol' Professor, Casey Stengel, and watching the likes of Tom Seaver, Tug McGraw, Ron Swoboda, Ron Taylor, Jerry Grote, Bud Harrelson, Ed Kranepool, Al Weis, Tommie Agee, Cleon Jones and managed, so magnificently, by Gil Hodges.
Those thoughts were jarred when I heard Bill O'Reilly's voice in the distance.
"Hey, turn on the Red Sox game, please!"
At least, I did catch the last few pitches of Josh Beckett's magnificent performance in shutting out the Angels 4-0 and anxiously awaited the Arizona Diamondbacks vs. Chicago Cubs opener from Phoenix. After all, Carlos Zambrano was on the mound for my Cubbies.
Well, in the sixth, Chicago manager Lou Piniella, for whatever strange reason, yanked the Z Man and replaced him with reliever Carlos Marmol. It was then that Arizona soared ahead 3-1.
No wonder I still have a case of indigestion from that opening loss, but there will be better days.
***
BASEBALL NAMES (From Uncle John's Bathroom Reader): Chicago Cubs -- There was no official nickname in the early 1900s (although they were informally called both the Colts and the Orphans). However, as I've mentioned before, in 1902, a "thrifty" sportswriter dubbed them "the Cubs" because it fit into a headline. The name stuck and the team officially adopted it a few years later.
***
REMEMBERING GIL HODGES (From Roger Kahn's Book, The Boys of Summer, devoted to the old Brooklyn Dodgers): "Hodges had the largest hands in baseball. He wore a glove at first base only because it was fashionable."
"Hodges has to be the strongest human in baseball."
"What about Ted Kluszewski?"
"If he's stronger than Hodges, then he ain't human."
Hodges, the one-time Dodger and Mets' manager, died at age 47 in April, 1972.

Bible scholars claim future tense

2007-08-23T18:10:00.000-07:00

WITH DEVASTATING storms and quakes lurking to savage this planet and such a madman as Iran's Ahmadinejad threatening the very existence of Israel, the world's future looks grim.
In fact, when I started to thumb through dust-covered files from early 1999, this investigative reporter uncovered some startling evidence of calamities about to become reality, which I detailed in a series of articles for World Net Daily. That was some eight years ago.
It reminded me of what the late TV preacher-personality Jerry Falwell's claim that the Second Coming could occur by the Year 2009. And on his website some eight years ago, he wrote: "In addition to asserting that I personally believe that Christ could return soon, I stated that the Antichrist may possibly be alive on the earth today."
Even the skeptics and so-called psychics have agreed these are, perhaps, the Last Days of what has been dubbed as the Last Generation.
While I have been skeptical of such doomsday scenarios, the French seer Nostradamus, once gazed into a candle and stated: "In the year 1999 and seven months (July 1999), The Great King of Terror will come from the sky, He will bring back to life the great king of Angolmois. Before and after Mars reigns happily."
An English translation claims "Angolmois" is as an anagram of "Mongols" (The Great King of Mongols was Genghis Khan); Mars is the God of war (and of transformation). Colin Wilson says in his "Occult" (1970) that "un grand Roy d'effrayer" sounds uncannily like a hydrogen bomb.
However, while Nostradamus may have been off a number of years, the Congregation Yeshuat Yisrael of Nashville, Tenn. used Biblical verses to make their claim that the Last Days began in 1914 with the outbreak of the First World War and then followed it up with these assertions:
* The Beginning of Sorrows:
1. Nation against Nation, Kingdom against Kingdom -- Major worldwide conflict that begins the End Times or Last Days: World War I & II (1914, 1939) Matthew 24:7.
2. Both World Wars had major Jewish implications -- the Holocaust and Zionist Movement.
3. State of Israel is established in 1948. Israel is established as a secular nation in unbelief for a future judgment known as a Time of Jacob's Trouble. The Bible speaks of a great gathering of Gentile Armies against Jerusalem. If this is true then the return of Israel in 1948 is a significant fulfillment of Bible prophecy. Ezekiel 20:33-35, Ezekiel 22:17, Zephaniah 2:1.
4. Jerusalem the capital of Israel is under Jewish control (1967) Daniel 9:27, Matthew 24:15 2 Thessalonians 2:3, Revelation 11:2.
Israel negotiates peace with Arab neighbours -- this sets the stage for the Non-Arab invasion of Ezekiel 38, where Arab nations will not be involved in this conflict because of the peace treaty. Non-Arab nations will come against Israel.
1. A Peace treaty with the Arab states will lead into non-Arab conflict involving an invasion of Israel. Ezekiel 38: Rosh (Russia), Cush (Ethiopia), Meshech (Moscow), Put (Libya), Tubal (Tubalsk, Siberia), Gomer (Germany), Persia (Iran), and Togarmah (Armenia).
2. The One World Government will be established -- (One Horn) Daniel 7:23.
3. One world government divides into 10 kingdoms (Ten Horns) Daniel 7:24a.
4. The Rise of Anti-Christ, (Anti-Messiah who opposes the real Messiah) is different from the other nations that ruled the earth. Some believe the Anti-Messiah will serve as a false Messiah for the Jewish People. This is not the case. He is the one world leader who takes over the Jewish Temple and claims himself as God. The Anti-Christ is of Roman origin, the prince of the people who destroyed the city. Daniel 7:24b.
5. Period of peace and false security (3 1/2 year period of false peace for Israel). Turmoil for the rest of the world. 1 Thessalonians 5:1-36.
6 *Blackout. Joel 2:31.
7. *Return of Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet) the forerunner of the Messiah. Malachi 5:4-6 , Malachi 3:1 , Isaiah 40:3 8.
8. *The Third Temple will be restored and sacrifices will be re-instituted at the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Daniel 9:27, Isaiah 66:1.
*The order of these events is not confirmed until the events work their way out in the future.
When I wrote this WND column in 1999 it caused readers to begin thinking about the future and the possibilities of such a scenario and also resulted in an avalanche of mail, both pro and con.

Corbett Recalls Mining Nightmare

2007-08-16T21:40:00.000-07:00

WITH THE HOPES of any survivors in the Huntington, Utah coal mine collapse ebbing into darkness and Thursday night's heartbreaking situation, it brought back a series of nightmares for me. For you see, my uncle, Carl Linkletter, a seasoned coal miner was killed in one of those dark dungeons, and another uncle, Lamont, was seriously injured in another one, this time in the infamous Springhill disaster of 1958.
Some time ago, I wrote, in part, about those devastating events:
***
Carl Linkletter at age 43 had everything to live for. He and his wife, Aggie, were expecting their third child.
As a coal miner, it was his job that day in January, 1943, to lay dynamite to bring down a "wall" in the Strathcona Coal Mine at River Hebert, a small community near Springhill, Nova Scotia.
However, it was to be a fatal morning, for Linkletter's "helper" apparently erred in wiring the dynamite sticks and the blast struck Linkletter with such a force that it caused enormous facial damage and "blew out his ears, his eyes, and the only thing left was his throat."
One of his last words were "take care of my two babies." And then he died.
Fifteen years later on Oct. 23, 1958, Carl's younger brother, Lamont, had just finished his shift at the Springhill coal mines when an "enormous bump" shook the small town at 8:06 p.m.
In the aftermath, 75 were killed and some 99 rescued from that deep pit.
Among the severely injured was Lamont Linkletter, one of the rescuers called "Draegermen."
Lamont and his crew went back down the shaft and one of the coal wall planks fell and hit him on the head. The force was so intense that it knocked Linkletter's right eye out.
In the following years, my uncle, Lamont, suffered intense "phantom pain" from losing his eye and would constantly see flashes of penetrating "bright lights."
Besides the world-wide publicity surrounding the Springhill disaster of 1958, there were others in the small community such as the one in 1956 and an even earlier one in 1891. Following the third disaster in 1958, DOSCO shut down their mining operations in Springhill and they were never reopened.
Today the mines, among the deepest works in the world and filled with water, provide Springhill's industrial park with a source of geothermal heat, according to al disaster website. It also provided information that Irish rock star U2 brought attention to the 1958 disaster when they performed Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger's The Ballad of Springhill as part of their world-famous The Joshua Tree tour in 1987.
In the Nov. 1, 1956 disaster, which killed 39 with 88 being rescued, several cars of a mine train, hauling a load of fine coal dust to the surface, broke loose and ran back down the slope of the No. 4 colliery, derailing and hitting a power line. It caused a massive explosion.
Two years later came another major disaster.
It occurred in the No. 2 colliery with the enormous "bump" severely impacting "the middle of the three walls that were being mined and the ends of the four levels nearest the walls."
In explaining a "bump" it is caused "when coal is totally removed from a strata and the resulting geological stresses upon surrounding bedrock (shale, sandstone, etc. -- in most coal-bearing strata) can cause the surrounding pillars of the galleries to suddenly catastrophically disintegrate and the shaft collapses."
The small earthquake sent shock waves throughout the world as the disaster was the first major international event to be televised live on the CBC and even Prince Philip, who was visiting Ottawa at the time, as well as then-Nova Scotia premier Robert Stanfield came to the "wake" over a seven-day period.
In her book, Last Man Out: The Story of the Springhill Mine Disaster, Melissa Fay Greene, wrote: "From an oceanic depth, a ball of fiery gas threw off its stone layers, like a feverish child in the night angrily kicking off his covers. The deepest stone floor rose faster than an elevator. It smashed into the floor above it, and the two, stacked together, hurtling up into a third, like granite dominos falling forward. The stone-and-lumber pillars ... built by the miners to support the roofs over their head, were clapped to smithereens in an instant by the force from below."
Then she added: "At 8:06, a deep, powerful BOOM! sounded, shaking every building and street in town. Everyone in Springhill lurched at the same instant. The wetly combed children sitting cross-legged on the floor in their pajamas jumped like the hiccups and looked to their parents ... One hundred seventy-four miners were working underground when "the bump" happened. Seventy-five never came out. Of the 99 who escaped, 18 of them did only after surviving for an incomprehensible nine days in absolute, pitch-black night."
One of those "survivors" was my uncle, Lamont Linkletter. He died of natural causes in December 1988.

Another visit to the 'pigsty' of life

2007-07-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

JUST WHEN the seamy details of the BALCO (steroids) case had, seemingly, started to corner the biggest names in baseball, scandals involving two other major sports -- football and basketball -- hit the proverbial fan in succession.
So what's next? Hockey? Tiddly-winks? Stay tune for the next edition of your scandal sheet.
Of course, there was a time of innocence or at least a lull when according to a now departed scribbler called sports "the playpen of life." However, nowdays, it's just "the pigsty."
In January, I listed the top seven scandals, in my opinion, starting with the one involving "better living through chemistry" known as BALCO, which has surrounded such illustrious names as Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi.
Ranked at No. 2 was Canada's Ben Johnson with Tonya Harding's whacking on Nancy Kerrigan's knees in 1994 at No. 3. In quick succession came the disgrace shadowing baseball basher-gambler Pete Rose; former NHLer Mike Stanton; bruising Mike Tyson and, of course, O.J.
For good measure, we added the notoriety surrounding Rick Tocchet and Gretzky's gambling spouse, Janet, and then there was Los Angeles Lakers' Kobe Bryant.
It seemed the scandals and its "dry rot" might have run its course.
But no, Bunky, such was not the case.
In fact, the leading seven listed in a late January column was just the tip of the iceberg.
Since Friday's banner headlines in the New York Post, the NBA has been reeling that senior hothead referee Tim Donaghy gambled on games. That's considered a definite no-no.
Was this senior official, who is being investigated by the FBI, involved in such a criminal act as point shaving?
And if you think the gambling aspect of the NBA isn't BIG BUSINESS, just scroll through the Pregame.com website and get these facts from its president, RJ Bell.
According to National Gambling Impact Study Commission, the amount gambled on sports illegally is almost 170 times bigger than the amount bet legally ($380 billion vs. $2.25 billion per year). In addition, Nevada Gaming Control Board apparently stated $61 million was bet on the NBA in May 2007.
Bell emphasized that $10 billion a month is bet, legally and illegally, on the NBA.
In other words, BIG BUSINESS is almost an inadequate term for the present situation, which even alarmed the evasive NBA commissioner David Stern, who worked as a lawyer for the league before assuming the commissioner's role.
The Donaghy gambling situation was apparently an isolated one, although Stern was certainly aware of the ongoing investigation.
"We think we have a rogue isolated criminal here," said Stern during a Tuesday morning press conference although the FBI probe is expected to root out more gambling associates Donaghy might have had.
In the meantime, the senior NBA ref, who is estimated to have earned $260,000 annually and resigned from the league on July 9, was reported to have concerns for he and his family's safety from "enemies," which could include the mob.
While the NBA reeled from the Donaghy accusations, who slipped under the so-called all-pervasive radar set by the league, it had to share the glaring spotlight, which has been aimed at the NFL and Atlanta quarterback Michael Vick, who, undoubtedly, thumbed his nose at commissioner Roger Goodell.
While the NFL boss has told Vick not to show up for the Falcons' training camp, dogfighting allegations certainly hang over this multi-millionaire player, who some have placed in the "thug" category.
The indictment against Vick and others have raised his questionable behaviour to a high level and a section in it probably outlined the savagery in the bloodsport more than any legalese. "In March 2003, Vick and others sponsored a 35-pound female pit bull in a fight that had a $26,000 purse. After the fight, Purnell Peace, one of the others indicted, consulted with Vick about the losing dog and Peace then "executed the losing dog by wetting the dog down with water and electrocuting the animal."
Whether Vick is found guilty of conducting such savagery on his property in Virginia or not, he doesn't deserve any respect and his troubling actions, not only in this instance but in others, should never be condoned by the NFL or society, in general.
QUOTE OF THE DAY: Kimberly Bell, who once had a relationship with 43-year-old Bonds, told the AP: "If I had more self-esteem when I was younger, I wouldn't have been caught up with such a rotten man."

Being crucified for their beliefs

2007-07-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

SO DID someone take your spot in the church parking lot? The audacity of such an act boggles the mind. It's enough to take it to the church board and complain about such an utterly, unholy act.
Or, perhaps, you didn't get to sit beside the pastor and his wife at the annual church picnic or the fact that Sister So-and-So didn't greet you in the manner you were accustomed to ... such blasphemy will definitely be reported to the district superintendent.
Those slights are common whether you are regular attendee or only manage to darken the church door at Christmas time or at Easter and they stretch from the most devout Catholic to even the most fired-up evangelical.
Am I hitting a raw nerve, oh pious one?
Of course, I'm preaching to myself after reading the BosNewsLife exclusive concerning Christians being crucified in Iraq.
The news service's Eric Leijenaar, who reports from Iraq and Syria, has detailed the findings of senior Dutch parliamentarian Joel Voordewind of the Christian Union (CU), who learned about these atrocities from a reliable source within the United Nations.
Voordewind was quoted as saying, "several Iraqi Christians were nailed to a cross and their arms tied with ropes. The ropes were put on fire."
The BosNewsLife article went on quote Voordewind as saying the victims of the cruxificions are "in most cases Christian converts who abandoned Islam or people who, religiously speaking, are involved in mixed marriages."
These reports come on the heels of thousands of Christians fleeing Iraq because of hideous persecution.
Earlier, Ken Timmerman, the executive director of the Foundation for Democracy of Iran, and author of Countdown to Crisis: the Coming Nuclear Showdown with Iran, wrote a thought-provoking expose, entitled Blood of Iraqi Martyrs for Front Page Magazine.
Timmerman, who was nominated for the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize along with John Bolton for his work on Iran, has been one of the few voices to point out the continuing terror against ancient Christian communities from Iraqi Muslim extremists.
In May, Timmerman wrote about the fire bombing of St. George's Assyrian Church in the Dora neighbourhood of Baghdad and pointed out it was the 27th church to have been destroyed by Muslim gangs since the so-called "liberation" of Iraq from Saddam's tyranny.
Perhaps, the most startling quote came from Rev. Dr. Keith Roderick of Christian Solidarity International, who told Timmerman, "the bombing of St. George's Church should leave no doubt in any one's mind that a process of ethnic cleansing has begun."
While fire bombing churches has become a familiar pattern in Iraq and elsewhere throughout the Middle East, Al-Qaeda terrorists are known to force their way into the neighborhoods and demand they pay something called "jizya." Apparently, this "jizya" or "protection" tax was instituted by the Prophet Mohammad and it's known that anyone who refuses pay it are told to convert to Islam "or leave the house within 24 hours or else be killed," according to Timmerman's article.
Peter BetBasoo of the Assyrian International News Agency (AINA) was quoted in Timmerman's story as saying Al Qaeda is demanding that "Christians pay 250,000 dinars (around $200) for the right to stay in their own homes."
While the anti-Christianity wave has swept through Iraq, it is not the only nation which has been under the cloud of persecution.
Others which have been listed are: Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Sudan, China, Yemen, Morocco, Iran, Libya, Tunisia, Egypt, Uzbekistan, Vietnam, Chechnya, Pakistan, Laos, Maldives, Qatar, Turkmenistan, North Korea, and Somalia.
And in one of the most startling statistic available, some 465 Christians are reportedly being murdered daily for their faith, while North American churches, with few exceptions, wallow in a sea of apathy.
In 2006, an Afghan named Abdul Rahman brought the plight of persecuted Christians to world attention.
He was an unknown until his wife filed a complaint against him in a child custody dispute, and accused him of rejecting Islam -- an offence which carries the death penalty under his country's Islamic Sharia law.
Although he was condemned by the Taliban with the obvious threat of death hanging over his head, Rahman stood his ground and after a number of diplomatic manoeuvres, he was able to escape to Italy, which gave him political asylum.
After arriving in Rome from Kabul, he said: "I have been suffering for 11 years, but I was never scared of dying because I have the faith."
Rahman, according to an article in the Afghan Times, said he had converted to Christianity after spending nine years in Germany, and working for a Christian relief agency in Pakistan.

An investigative reporter's notebook

2007-07-17T15:10:00.000-07:00

IT'S ONE OF the most thankless jobs in any profession. Long sleepless hours, sometimes hunched over a computer with a cold cup of coffee, a phone stuck in the ear and scribbled notes in some kind of "foreign" language, which only a seasoned investigative reporter might decipher.
Two scribblers -- Michael Paulson and Jason Berry -- have earned even the briefest mention for their dogged pursuit of a story, which involved the scandal surrounding the Boston diocese and tainted priests, John Geohagen and James Porter.
And just when that scandal seemed to fade, this week, a judge in Los Angeles agreed to a $660 million payoff concerning clergy sex abuse in that diocese.
Geoghan, who during a 30-year career allegedly sexually abused some 130 people, and, finally, in 2002, was sentenced to nine to 10 years in prison for fondling a young boy at a swimming pool, according to Thomas Pierce's report in NPR. While Geohagen was awaiting a further trial, he was strangled and stomped to death while in so-called protective custody.
Porter allegedly molested some 125 children. He would die of cancer while serving a 20-year prison sentence.
Cardinal Bernard Law, the former archbishop of Boston, apparently shuffled accused priests and he quit in 2002 and now lives in Rome, overseeing one of the basilicas.
Although monetary punishment has been meted out in Los Angeles, with Cardinal Roger Mahony, offering some kind of an apology, the pain and suffering of these "survivors" will remain forever.
It's rare than investigative journalists such as those forementioned in Boston or Los Angeles are recognized for their "digging, " but they should be. The same holds true for Brian Ross and his group as well as Kevin Sites along with Max Haines, whom I consider the greatest of them all.
Haines has now, basically, retired to "smell the roses," but during his tenure with the Toronto Sun, I was privileged to be his editor, which meant I changed a few commas in his Crime Flashback columns, for his copy was always superb.
This fellow Nova Scotian showed he could mix wit and wisdom in his columns and also assisted me in my pursuit as an ID* Investigative Day columnist.
I also had my run-in with a wayward minister with a Pentecostal background, and his "sins" of the flesh led to his dismissal and a paperback in the 1990s called "Betrayal."
Then Haines was generous with his words in the introduction to another investigative paperback called "The Rassler Papers," now an e-book called "Counterfeit Hero."
This was Haines' introduction:
"The Villainous Viking has crafted a winner. Who but respected journalist Kaye Corbett, once known as the Villainous One himself, could bring the reader into the inner circle of wrestling, After reading 'Counterfeit Hero' you will never view the grunt-and-groan boys in the same light again.
Corbett reveals the inner workings of the World Wrestling Federation with special emphasis on its kingpin, Vince McMahon. He reviews the checkered history of McMahon and his wrestling heroes, who have been portrayed with publicity expertise as either clean-living lily whites or lovable monsters. Corbett exposes the chinks in the armour of the game itself, exposing the influence that anabolic steroids have had on athletes. In addition, he documents child sex abuse within the sport, which precipitated the resignation of several executives.
Not even the game's superhero, Hulk Hogan, is left unscathed. Despite his public persona as a clean living wholesome giant, Hulk Hogan (real name: Terry Bollea) has been linked to steroids and drugs. Corbett reveals that the Hulkster's image is well protected, and with good reason. He is the star of a merchandising empire than grosses $1.7 billion annually. He also stars in movies and commercials. To maintain his image, particularly with the Little Hulksters, he visits as many as 30 children's hospitals in a week. It pays well for Hogan to perpetuate his clean living, child-oriented image.
After walking through the dry rot that is the modern version of the World Wrestling Federation, Corbett relates the details of Vince McMahon's trial in which he was charged with conspiracy to distribute anabolic steroids. The testimony and evidence is presented in a most readable manner."
While the investigative paperback-e-book on pro wrestling follies was written in 1994, anabolic steroids and death are once again in the news some 13 years later. On Tuesday, a toxicology report showed Chris Benoit's body contained 10 times the normal level of testosterone, as well as the anti-anxiety drug Xanax and the painkiller hydrocodone. And, once again, solid investigative reporters will be hunched over their computers, trying to make sense of all that information.

Final words about those (ill) wills

2007-07-12T14:04:00.000-07:00

THE OL' CURMUDGEON was lying in the weeds, waiting for me the other day.
"Say, Corbett, whatcha goin' to leave me when you depart?"
"What?" I intoned. "You know, when you croak," he muttered.
Those words I understood.
"Well, you can have visiting rights to Molly the Cat and Benny the Hound and a couple of ol' fishin' poles that I used to catch the Big One off Campbell River," I answered without the slightest hesistation.
The conversation actually spurred me into chasing down a litany of final wills, mostly strange, some humourous, and even bizarre, which struck my fancy. Maybe, you'll get either a groan or, maybe, a laugh or two out of the following:
* Ms. Eleanor Ritchey, the unmarried granddaughter of the founder of Quaker State Oil, died in 1968 with an estate worth about $12 million. It seems she left more than 1,700 pairs of shoes and 1,200 boxes of stationery to the Salvation Army. The rest of the estate went to the dogs. Yes, real mutts, for it seems, Ms. Eleanor was a collector of some 150 strays.
* Francis R. Lord, a thrifty Aussie, left one shilling to his wife and these words: "It's for tram fare so she can go somewhere and drown herself." Mrs. Lord never claimed the inheritance.
* Sandra West, who happened to be a filthy rich socialite from Beverly Hills, left most of her $3 million estate to her brother if he buried her in a lace nightgown in her Ferrari. Well, her Ferrari was packed in concrete so no one would later dig it up and drive it away. Apparently, Sandra and the Ferrari are still "parked."
* Did you hear about the woman from North Carolina, who left her estate to God? When the court told the county sheriff to find her beneficiary, he eventually submitted his report, which read: "After due and diligent search, God cannot be found in this county."
* Edgar Bergen left 10 grand to the Actor's Fund of America with one stipulation that Bergen's "friend" -- Charlie McCarthy -- come out of retirement once a year. The Fund went along with it, but it makes one wonder who does Charlie's voiceovers?
Then there's the bequeathing of both immovable and movable properties as Roshni Johar reported in India's Tribune:
* One eccentric wrote his will not on paper, but on his door in red chalk, making two witnesses sign it. The court, however, called that an absurdity, but it was finally settled when the executers unhinged the door and produced the will in court.
* Did you know that Leo Tolstoy left his possessions to the stump of a tree? Would I make up such a tale?
* German Countess Carlotta Liebenstein, who died in 1991, left 139 million German marks to Gunther III. Incidentally, III was a pet dog and now Gunther IV has a personal maid, a limo and a custom-made swimming pool. Some lucky dog, eh?
* Jimmy, Trunte, Fifi, Trine, Grinni and Gigi are six lucky chimps in the Copenhagen zoo. It seems an 83-year-old Danish woman left her entire fortune of $67,000 to them. A lawyer went to the zoo and read them their inheritance. It makes one wonder if they understood one word of it.
And speaking of eccentrics, there's the one about the wealthy New Yorker, who left the following will: "To my wife I leave one dollar and the knowledge that I wasn't the fool she thought I was. To my son, I leave the pleasure of earning a living which he had not done in 35 years."
Finally, the friendly librarian in Falkland, near the Ol' Homestead, scoured the swarb.co.uk website and found these gems:
* From England in a more gentle and generous time: The retired Sir Joseph Jekyll, Master of the Rolls and, therefore, a very senior judge, left his considerable estate to pay off the national debt. A contemporary commentator suggested he might as well have "attempted to block the middle arch of Blackfriars Bridge with his full-bottomed wig." More surprisingly, perhaps, the will was later set aside on the 'ground of imbecility.'
* Even further back in time was Billy Shakespeare's bequest: "I gyve to my wief my second-best bed with the furniture."
That's a good one, William, even if you couldn't spell gyve (give) or wief (wife).
***
Then there's the bizarre 911 calls such as this one:
(Dispatcher) 911. What's your emergency?
(Caller) I'm scared.
(Dispatcher) What's the problem?
(Caller) I just got a Ouija board for my birthday and now there's writing on my wall and I can't get it off ... This thing is going back to Kmart first thing in the morning!
***
DID YOU KNOW? (From The Book of Lists): James Cagney never uttered the line, "You dirty rat" in any of his roles as a hard-boiled gangster. Cagney impersonators often used it ... Also, Cary Grant never uttered the line, "Judy, Judy, Judy."

It's just me, the Goodyear Blimp

2007-07-11T07:40:00.000-07:00

IT WAS a typical breakfast fare: Eggs and bacon and then washing it all down with seven tons of granulated, white sugar in my favorite brew. Yeech!
That's when I knew I was in trouble with The Missus.
"You know what, Corbett, I can't fit into anything any more?" she whispered. "I'm going to go on the Atkins' Diet."
The Ol' Columnist just nodded his head.
After all, being the second coming of the Goodyear Blimp, I knew enough to keep my mouth shut and that's when she hit me with one of those addendum: "When are you going on one? You certainly could lose that gut!"
Sometimes, a wife can crush you with a few words.
And that's when I thought, "Self, if she's on Atkins', you'll have to make a choice? Will it be the South Beach, the Zone Diet, the Hoodia, the Mayo Clinic Diet, the Amazing Chinese fat-loss secret diet or what about Sonoma?"
That's when I remembered watching Jordan Rubin on TV and something he called The Maker's Diet and wondered if it would be of assistance even for an unhealthy "fat" man.
When I looked up his website, he claimed The Maker's Diet had saved his life.
"In 1994 at 19 years of age and six foot one inch tall, my weight plummeted from 180 pounds to a shocking 104 pounds in a matter of months," he wrote. "As my immune system began to break down, I suffered from a list of debilitating conditions, including intestinal parasites, abdominal pain, chronic diarrhea, liver problems, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, arthritis, prostate and bladder infections, irregular heartbeat, eye inflammation, and chronic depression.
"I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease. Though I was not familiar with the disease, I soon learned that my future looked bleak. I was told that medications would keep me alive, but I quickly discovered that their side effects were nearly as bad as the disease itself. And then, it turned out, the medications weren't that effective. I continued to waste away. Science knew of no cause or cure from Crohn's at the time, and my prognosis was very poor."
Rubin then continued to write that he had seen 70 health professionals in seven countries and had 500 different treatments and still ended up in a wheelchair about to die.
His world changed when his father contacted an eccentric nutritionist who said Rubin was ill because he wasn't eating the diet of the Bible.
"I integrated the nutritionist's program with my own findings about nutrition and health from the Bible, and for the first time in my long battle, I saw some improvment in my health.
"I believe my survival is a true testament to the power of my faith in God and the revolutionary health program I call The Maker's Diet. In the seven years since my recovery, I have not shown any sysmptoms of the disease that nearly took my life."
When watching Rubin on TV, one item that turned me off was brown seaweed, but I could handle some of his diet ideas (www.makersdiet.com) for Breakfast: Easy Egg Scramble; Tomato-Basil Omelet; Blueberry Muffins; Leek Frittata; French Toast ... Lunch: Coconut Milk Soup; Salade Nicoise; Texas-Style Chili; Traditional Beef Stew; Roast Beef Sandwich With Cole Slaw ... Dinner: Family Roast Beef; Cilantro-Lime Chicken Cacciatore; Wild Alaskan Salmon With Pecan Pesto; Steak au Poivre With Fried Peppers and Onions; Spaghetti With Meat Sauce.
For Rubin, The Maker's Diet took him from a scrawny creature to a solid and healthy individual.
While it sounds appealing, The Missus has made up her mind to follow Atkins' Diet Plan with its list of all you can eat such as lamb, ham, bacon, pork, veal, beef and venison all the way to poached, deviled and scrambled eggs to cream cheese. However, there are a number of items to steer clear off such as rice, cereals (bread, flour, breakfast cereals), maize, wheat, things high in sugar (fruit, juice, candy), potatoes (chips & fries) along with alcohol (beer & whisky). That's okay since neither one of us imbibe.
Tomorrow, we'll go on The Maker's Diet and Atkins (www.101dietrecipes.com/), respectively.
Now, please excuse me while I munch the last of these three chocolate-covered cookies and wash it down with some Coke (that's Diet Coke, of course).
SOME ALL-STAR SAYINGS (From baseball great Yogi Berra): These are worth repeating -- "Think! How the heck are you going to think and hit at the same time?" ... "I knew I was going to take the wrong train, so I left early." ... "If you can't imitate him, don't copy him." ... "You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six." ... "Baseball is 90 per cent mental -- the other half is physical."

So 'Git Er Done' Larry The Cable Guy

2007-07-07T07:16:00.000-07:00

"LORD, I APOLOGIZE FOR ... Daniel Lawrence Whitney ... and be with the starvin' pygmies in Noo Guinea, Amen."
In this ultra-serious world when the No. 2 al-Qaeda goon has declared the annihilation of the West and vile medical doctors have made a mockery of the Hippocratic Oath, Whitney, aka Larry the Cable Guy, brings a smile even to the most sophisticated TV viewer.
If you don't believe me, then why is The Missus always mouthing, "Git-er-done" even when no one's listening.
And just the other night as gloom settled over the planet, Ol' Larry was smashing political correctness and spinning yarns about an overweight sister who looks like DeeWayne from the Ozarks and has multiple moles. So many Larry has nicknamed her "Old Moley," "Holy Moley" and "Guacamole."
Of course, he spreads his caustic wit to his entire "family," for according to his Wikipedia blurbs, his sister's baby has been pegged as "Rolie Polie Moley."
Although, the sophisticates would turn up their noses at Whitney and snub his sometimes racist and homophobic references, Ol' Larry answers with "the only people who are uptight at my shows are politically correct white people."
Just the other night, this now millionaire laughmaster was on Donny Deutsch's The Big Idea and viewers quickly learned that Whitney, the one-time baseball player and hotel bellhop, showed off his comedic wares when a friend convinced him to go on stage at an "open mike" comedy show and as they say the rest of history.
In his bio, Whitney was born in Pawnee City, Nebraska and then moved to West Palm Beach, Fla., when he was 16 where he attended Berean Christian School. His father was a preacher, who worked as the school's principal, and had played guitar with the Everly Brothers at one time.
He worked at Wendy's before being thrust into the showbiz realm with a radio call-in stint and "Larry" became born when a friend suggested he call in as a cable installer.
While he's appeared with his other comedic talents such as Bill Engvall on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, Whitney has been the voice of Mater on the animated film Cars. He's followed this up with Delta Force and Witless Protection to be released in 2008.
Besides The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch, Whitney also has made a (lasting) "Larry" impression on 60 Minutes in which correspondent Bob Simon said: "Larry is not angry, he's not depressed, he's not paranoid ..."
That's the Cable Guy, who claims his grandma has a severe case of the 'walkin' farts' ... Lord, I apologize for that!
***
Speaking of Deutsch, besides showcasing a litany of rising and money-generating individuals on his The Big Idea program, is more than just another talk show host, for he's chairman of Deutsch, Inc., a $2.7 billion marketing company.
One of the most fascinating characters to be on his Big Idea show was Matthew Kaye, aka Matt Striker, who was fired from his teaching job when he took a few days off wrestle in Japan.
Until that time, Mr. Kaye was the social studies teacher at Benjamin Cardozo High School in Queens, New York, and then his weekend ventures became known with his wrestling persona plastered in the newspapers ... and, quickly, his educational bosses dismissed him.
However, the firing has had its rewards, particularly, in the money department. Striker has found out that pro wrestling has a higher salary base than any teaching job.
Another one to realize millions of dollars from their Big Idea was Sara Blakely, who became Ernest & Young's 2002 Entrepreneur of the Year Award winner, with her pantyhose idea, known as Spanx.
Being shy, the Ol' Columnist will leave that one alone. Perhaps, The Missus should write a column about that slimming product.
Or as Larry might belch, "I don't care who you are, that's funny right there!"
DID YOU EVER HEAR THIS ONE? (From The Book Of Lists): The billionaire oil magnate J. Paul Getty (1892-1976) met Jack Dempsey in 1916, when Dempsey was an up-and-coming young fighter, and the two became good friends. Getty, who kept fit in the fully equipped basement gym in his parents' mansion, used to spar with Dempsey. Dempsey once claimed that, in an altercation over a girl, Getty knocked him out with a left upercut -- the only time Dempsey was ever KO'd by anyone.
FINALLY (From Uncle John's Bathroom Reader): High On The Hog meaning luxurious, prosperous ... Background: The tastiest part of a hog are its upper parts. If you're living high on the hog, you've got the best it has to offer.

Don't take me out to the Brawl Game

2007-06-21T14:08:00.000-07:00

MAJOR-LEAGUE BASEBALL still lives in the twilight zone. Or, perhaps, the 1900s. A period when the "sins" surrounding the heroes of the diamond were wine, women and song.
When this Ol' Columnist exposed professional wrestling as a mire of steroids and pill-poppers in a documentary entitled "Counterfeit Hero," it wasn't surprising. After all what normal behaviour could boost a mild-mannered grappler into a mountain of exaggerated muscle, seemingly overnight?
However, the veneer shielding America's national pasttime was still intact.
That was until 2003 when Jason Giambi admitted before a federal grand jury that he had, indeed, taken steroids and human growth hormone in the BALCO investigation.
However, four years later, Giambi, the New York Yankees' designated hitter, has been reluctant to come forward and "spill the beans," before steroids investigator George Mitchell. He's been given a Thursday deadline to do so or be whacked over the knuckles by baseball commish Bud Selig.
But such a possibility for any ultra-severe disciplinary action is about a remote as yours truly hitting a grand slam against the likes of Curt Schilling. Slim and none and Slim just got out of town.
When researching the latest episode in the steroids fiasco, I went back to files from April 14, 1977 to a much more innocent times in which the headline read: A very civilized game.

Baseball is the only civilized game in the universe.
During what other game could you read a newspaper and follow the action on the field at the same time?
Baseball doesn't even have the harsh terminology used in football. You can curl your tongue around baseball terms. In football you can spit them out.
In baseball, you play in a park, not a battlefield.
Baseball is played on a diamond, not on a gridiron.
Even the players' positions have a genteel ring. A pitcher. A catcher. A first, second and third baseman. A shortstop (is he really that short?). A left, a right, and a centre fielder?
In football, it's a guard, a tackle (oomph!), linebackers (ouch), defensive backs, safeties, halfbacks and a quarterback, also commonly known as a FIELD GENERAL.
In football, there's always a game plan, strategy, on the attack, on the defence. It's the bomb, the blitz, the red dog, the hit men. And they buried him.
In baseball, it's the nice play. Around the horn. A little bingo. The squeeze play. And, of course, a favourite -- the pop fly.
Baseball players wear caps and gloves. Football players wear helmets and face guards, shoulder and hip pads.
Baseball players never lose their teeth. Football players always do. It's their mark of honour.
In baseball, the ball, which is always seen, is white -- bridal white.
In football, it's a menacing brown and ALWAYS hidden.
In football, it's a fight for inches. In baseball, it's a game of yards.
In baseball, it's called a pasture. In football, it's the END zone.
And the teams' names.
In football, it's the Eagles, the Bears, the Lions, the Broncos, the Cowboys, the Rams, the Bombers, the Roughriders.
In baseball, it's the Orioles, the Red Sox, the Cardinals, the Blue Jays. Chirp. Chirp.

As I said that was written some 30 years with contributions from George Carlin and the late Jim Murray, and so much has changed concerning baseball.
It truly has become diamonds in the rough with the steroids controversy and now major-league brawls.
Just Monday, Cubs' first baseman Derrek Lee and San Diego pitcher Chris Young were suspended for flying fists.
And a week or more ago, two Chicago teammates, Carlos Zambrano and Michael Barrett, scuffled in the dugout.
Now, disillusionment has set in. So, please, don't take me out to the Brawl Game.
FAMILIAR NAMES: R.J. Lechmere Guppy. A clergyman living in Trinidad. He send several species of tropical fish to the British Museum, including a tiny specimen that now bears his name ... Tom Collins. A 19th-century English bartender at Limmer's Old House in London.

Remembering the very best of fathers

2007-06-16T05:41:00.000-07:00

WITH FATHER's DAY on Sunday, OK Corbett remembers his own Dad -- Angus Willard Corbett -- in the following column about "a wonderful, simple man and the best of fathers," who died in Calgary on Sunday, July 30, 1989. Although it's been almost 18 years since his death, this condensed "letter," which has appeared in numerous publications in North America and beyond, was "my way of remembering and honouring the most gentle of men."
***
Dear Dad:
It's only a short time since I heard the word.
Mom called at 2 a.m. on that Sunday afternoon and said you were slipping fast and then she called back at 4, crying.
It didn't quite register that I wouldn't see your smiling face or that twinkle in your eye. That my UNO partner wouldn't be around any more.
How did it feel dying, Dad? Was it painful as you crossed over to the Other Side? Remember when your Mom and my grandmother died of a broken heart after Grandpa passed on? Didn't she ask you, 'Willard, can you you see the Rock of Ages?' And you replied, 'Yes, Mom, I can see Him.' I know you couldn't, but you were always the devoted son.
Mom said you passed on with a smile on your face. She misses you, after all you were together 52 years. Oh, more than that. 'Remember, she used to keep house for Grandma and Grandpa. She couldn't stand you at first, you were conceited and a real fancy Dan, then, weren't you, Dad?'
But somehow love entered the picture and as a result you and Mom raised me and my brother, Garry, and we didn't turn out that bad.
Dad, you didn't give us boys much notice. Garry was up near the fire line near Lynn Lake, Manitoba for nine straight days, handing out cheques to those poor Indians. He had been sleeping on the floor of a government building. Me, I was just getting ready to go to The Sun. I still work those strange hours, but I love my job.
Well, after Mom's call, Garry up in Lynn Lake and me in Mississauga, grabbed the first flights out to Calgary. He actually got there three minutes before me.
Larry Dahl picked us up. You know, Larry? He's the preacher at the North Hill Church of the Nazarene, the young fellow with the holes in his socks. You were like a father to him. He always called you Dad!
Sunday night and Monday were like old times at home. Garry and I were forever teasing Mom, saying things that made her blush. Tickling her neck. My, you would have joined right in. It was almost like you were still down at the Fanning Centre and we hadn't visited you yet, except for writing your obit Monday night. The obit went in to the Calgary Herald and the Truro Daily News.
I meant it when I wrote that never has one come through life with such caring and compassion as you, Dad. Always quick with a smile and a twinkle in your eye, you enriched all those whose lives you touched. No one said an unkind word of you or you they.
During your last 20 years, your health failed, but your spirit never waned.
Please stop crying, Dad. You even wept at Lassie reruns.
Reality really set in Tuesday when we had to go to Foster's to make arrangements.
At night, Larry Dahl came over and he wanted to know the real Willard Corbett, the man behind the smiling face. He'd learn of your skill as a fine furniture finisher in Bass River, Nova Scotia, and being a janitorial supervisor at Gulf Oil. I'm sorry that in my immaturity I tried to impress some of my football and wrestling pals by telling them you were an oilman. Of course, I finally grew up and accepted you for being you -- a simple, gentle and unsophisticated man, who worked so hard to keep his family together.
Thursday. At the church, your family sat in the front pew. Your casket was closed, at your request. I remember, you saying, "I don't want anyone looking at me."
Of course, you know that we sang two of your favorites -- "The Old Rugged Cross" and "Amazing Grace" -- and there was a solo: "How Great Thou Art." Rev. Dahl preached about your love for people and your love for your family. And you were always there for your boys.
I know how happy you were that day, when your hulking sons, picked you up, bodily, and carried you along a Calgary street. How did you, being so short, ever have two sons as large as Garry and me?
You know that Garry and I were pallbearers and as we struggled with the casket down the church steps, I'm sure I heard you say: "Two hands, boys, two hands."
At the Queen's Park Cemetery, it was so difficult to say goodbye to one who had taught us so well. Even later that night, your boys wanted to visit you on the hill. Garry said, "I bet Dad's lonely." But the cemetery gates were locked for the night.
I know I'm lonely. So is Garry. And so is Mom. We'll survive, but the memories of the best father in this world and the world beyond, will remain.
I love you, Dad!

Dementia taking its toll on memory

2007-06-01T03:29:00.000-07:00

TED JOHNSON has all the symptoms: Depression, dizziness, excessive drowsiness, fatigue, irritability, memory loss, poor concentration, ringing in the ears, acute sensitivity to noise. And he's only 34 years old and slowly the memory and the mind of the former New England Patriots' linebacker may be vanishing.
He's almost a poster boy for an oft-dismissed disease and its advanced stage known as Alzheimer's, which can claim not only the young, as Johnson happens to be, but stretches into those in advanced years, often blatantly tagged as "the Golden Years."
One of the most searing articles about "dementia," was written by Washington Post staff writer Les Carpenter concerning the recent work of forensic pathologist Bennet Omahu, who has examined the brains of recently deceased football players such as former Philadelphia Eagles DB Andre Waters, Pittsburgh Steelers' offensive linemen Mike Webster and Terry Long and former Denver RB Damien Nash.
Referring to himself as a "brain chaser," Omahu surmises that repeated concussions in football "lead to early-onset dementia, very similar to the boxing ailment known as 'punch-drunk syndrome,'" according to the Washington Post article.
Of course, dementia can affect more than football players, but it seemingly has inroads among those who have been in heavy-contact sports, and Tim Dahlberg of the Associated Press has explored the connection between concussions and permanent brain damage.
Dahlberg also brought up the case of Pittsburgh Steelers' quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, who had been "dinged" twice (meaning two concussions) within a four-month period and then was given the a-ok signal to resume playing.
As Dahlberg wrote, "concussions, it seems, are the NFL's dirty little secret."
Two prime examples, according to the AP writer, were star quarterbacks Troy Aikman and Steve Young, who both went into early retirement due to concussions.
Then there's former New York Giants' linebacker Harry Carson, who had a dozen or more "bellringers" (another word for concussions) and now in retirement he has memory loss.
However, the NFL and other football affiliates aren't the only domain for concussions. Dahlberg pointed out that former Philadelphia Flyers' Keith Primeau retired because concussions prevented him from completing even simple skating drills.
According to a website blurb, "the NHL has mandated baseline neuropsychological testing since 1997." This means players, who are suspected to have a concussion, have to undergo tests and there's even an "informal rule" that those with serious concussions have to sit out a week.
But those "dings" take their toll as Johnson and others have found out, including John Mackey, the Hall of Fame tight end with the NFL Baltimore Colts, who has dementia at age 65.
Mackey is still a solid specimen and can converse with his "fans," however, his mental decline can become pronounced within minutes.
Mackey's deteriorating condition as well as at least 35 other retired players with dementia or related brain problems have come to the forefront and are now being helped by the "88" plan. Of course, "88" was Mackey's number when he was playing.
According to another AP article, it provides $50,000 a year for home care and up to $88,000 if they are institutionized.
However, Johnson, who has been silent about his dilemma until February of this year, came forward after Waters' suicide and told Boston Globe's Jackie MacMullan: "I want people to realize that you don't have to 'black out' to have a concussion. Most times, the symptoms of a concussion don't show up for hours, sometimes days. And this isn't just happening in the NFL. High school kids get concussions, and aren't properly monitored ... I don't want anyone to end up like me."
Johnson also told MacMullan that he had been "dinged" about 30 times or "so many times I've lost count."
There are an estimated 100,000 head injuries in amateur and professional football each year and according to USA TODAY, 61 per cent of game concussions result from helmet-to-helmet hits.
New York Jets team physician Elliott Pellman has been quoted as saying, "I always tell players and players' parents, especially, they need to respect this injury ... A concussion should be treated as a serious matter and not just written off as a 'ding.'"
Just the other day, a former athlete, who has had at least four head-rattling concussions, repeated his doctor's words: "You're in the early stages of dementia." He shook his head and muttered out loud: "Dementia, what the heck, I'm still only a young man."
WELL-KNOWN ALZHEIMER PATIENTS: Ronald Reagan, Rita Hayworth, Sugar Ray Robinson, Winston Churchill, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Ford, Arlene Francis.

George the First on warp speed

2007-05-26T05:08:00.000-07:00

WHAT'S AN OLD MAN like George Foreman taking these days? If the Ol' Columnist knew his secret he'd be out there peddling the product and making a billion or two on the weekends.
The last time, actually late August 2006, I wrote a column wondering whether the gigantic former world heavyweight champion turned preacher was going to climb back into the ring as he approached 57, 58, 59, or was it 60 years of age? After all another champ, Evander Holyfield, has been collecting more than a few bucks, marketing his aging body against those notorious bums of the month, which seem to number in the thousands.
As I wrote last year, George the First had collected a version of the heavy crown at the age of 45. And then he began turning up on TV as an advertising pitchman for everything from grills to advanced cleaning products, tending his ranch in the Piney Woods of Marshall, Texas and a sought-after motivational speaker. Of course, his speaking engagements included the board of regents session at Pepperdine University, the Las Vegas Labor Conference and the Real Estate Wealth Expo.
It would appear there was little time for anything else, including another comeback.
But in the past few days, Reverend George has sought to conquer new fields.
Instead of snoozing in the pulpit, he started pushing his latest book, God in My Corner: A Spiritual Memoir from Thomas Nelson.
"(The book) tells not only the life story of George, but more importantly, it tells how God has been behind the scenes of every part of his life," reads an explanation from the publisher, "from a boyhood marked with scrapes with the law, to Olympian gold medalist, to two-time heavyweight champion of the world, to father of a family of ten, to ordained minister, to founder of The George Foreman Youth Community Center, to successful businessman."
Kevin Jackson in The Christian Post wrote that besides the Today Show, Foreman appeared on Hannity & Colmes, the Sean Hannity Show, Janet Parshall's America and Fox Across America.
And while promoting his book, which expanded about his near-death experience after his loss to Jimmy Young and how God "called him to change his life and way," another startling revelation came to the forefront. In it George claims his water was drugged before he lost to Muhammad Ali in their 1974 Rumble In The Jungle at Zaire.
On ESPN, Foreman said his water had a medicine-like taste "as if someone had spiked it to weaken it" was the way he worded it. He lost to Ali by an eighth-round KO.
Although the "medicine claim" was included in God in My Corner, Big George has never blamed it for the Zaire defeat, even saying "It wasn't a fixed fight. I got beat fair and square."
And just after reading a ton of reviews about George's book, I decided to wind down this column and go onto another subject such as Sunday's Indianapolis 500.
So I begin to go down the list of drivers and even their owners and then came the ultimate shocker: George Foreman, yes that George Foreman, and his sons, all named George, are co-owners of the Indy Racing League's Panther team.
In a Sports Illustrated story, George Foreman Jr. and brother George III serve as vice-presidents of George Foreman Enterprises, the marketing company founded by their father, according to SI.
This is what George the First told SI: "I've been blessed throughout my life to partner with winning organizations. Now that I am part of Panther Racing, I am looking forward to being part of a winning team."
Incidentally, Panther and Reverend George and the team's co-owner John Barnes, have three cars in Sunday's chase -- Vitor Meira, Kosuke Matsuura and John Andretti.
If I were a betting man, I'd lay down a few shekels on all three. After all anything with Foreman's name attached to it is money in the bank.
***
GRETZKY ALSO IN THE INDY 'FIELD': Wayne Gretzky, the former NHL superstar with the Edmonton Oilers and now head coach of the Phoenix Coyotes, will not be driving in Sunday's event, but his name will be prominent, nevertheless; for he and his group could benefit when Ryan Briscoe starts seventh in the 33-car field. Briscoe drives for the Luczo Dragon Racing team, which has pledged to donate a bundle of their winnings to a number of charities, including Gretzky's Foundation.
***
FINALLY, SOME NIXON QUOTES (From The Best of Uncle John's Bathroom Reader): "I never made the (football) team ... I was not heavy enough to play the line, not fast enough to play halfback and not smart enough to be a quarterback." ... "Once you get into this great stream of history, you can't get out."

Terrorism on Canadian horizon?

2007-05-22T15:14:00.000-07:00

AS SOMEONE once said: "Canadians are too darn nice." That's us, nice!
It might be the welcoming card for terrorists and their hellish behaviour, which has now has sent shockwaves throughout the world and could rear its ugly head on the U.S.-Canada border.
However, Ottawa has failed to show the kind of strong leadership in alerting the average Canadian citizens to the multiple dangers.
While former U.S. Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich, with his warnings against an "open border" and "amnesty" with Mexico may have had some effect on American political leaders since an immigration bill has been delayed until after the Memorial Day weekend, Canada and its Citizenship and Immigration department and its minister, Diane Finley, appear content to be just "nice."
As a former Middle East bureau chief for a major news organization based in Jerusalem, I was at first shocked and then thankful for Israel's extremely cautious security system, which checks and double checks travelers from other lands, including Canada.
The first instance of such vigilance occurred in late 1990 while leaving Cairo, Egypt for Tel Aviv. It involved eight hours of checking and re-checking luggage and also questioning at length each of the passengers on the El Al flight. After eight hours, this reporter was taken along with some 150 passengers to the far end of the Cairo airport in complete darkness.
Once at the end of the tarmac, at least what seemed to be five miles away, each passenger had to claim his or her own luggage in the dark before departing.
Of course, the reason for such precautions was that the Gulf War was about to erupt in the Middle East.
Today, the extremists seem bent on disrupting any semblance of peace with their ungodly schemes of murder and mayhem and although Canada has security checks and balances, I wonder if its enough.
Are we ripe for an attack from within our own borders?
It seems so simple to obtain Canadian citizenship: * Be 18 years of age or older; be a permanent resident of Canada; have lived in Canada for at least three or four years before applying; be able to communicate in either English or French; know about Canada; and know about the rights and responsibilities of citizenship.
Then if you are between the ages of 18 and 54, you must pass a citizenship test with such questions as: Who are the Aboriginal peoples of Canada? Where did the first European settlers in Canada come from; What does Confederation mean; List four rights Canadian citizens have? What does the Canadian flag look like? What is the population of Canada? What are the three main types of industries in Canada? Who is Canada's Head of State; What is the capital city of the province or territory in which you live?
These might not be the exact questions you will be asked, but the test, according to the CIC, is made up of similar questions.
On April 10, 2004 in the Globe and Mail, Patrick Grady reviewed Stewart Bell's book, How Canada Nurtures and Exports Terrorism Around the World.
Grady opened with these words: "Canadians will be madder than hell after they read Stewart Bell's shocking account of how the Canadian government has allowed Sikh, Tamil and Islamic terrorists to come into our home and turn it into a safe house for international terror."
Grady finished up his thesis with these words: "Stewart Bell's clarion call for action needs to be heeded before the ticking Canadian terrorist time bomb blows up closer to home. If Canadian terrorists aren't stopped before they use weapons of mass destruction in the United States, we'll have far bigger problems than keeping the border open for trade."
And what about security on the B.C.-Washington state border?
"Am I going to tell you I've hermetically sealed this border? No that's not true. I can put a million agents out there and have them run willy-nilly across the border catching everything that moves and throwing it back," Border Patrol's Joe Giuliano in Blaine, Wash. was quoted by NewsMax.com in July 2005. "Two hours later, they're going to try again ... and sooner or later somebody's going to find that one little seam and exploit it."
***
STORMY WEATHER AHEAD: It's fire season from California to Florida to Georgia and now on the horizon are those dastardly hurricanes. The first one, Andrea, fizzled into a subtropical depression after churning up the waters off Florida to North Carolina, but the weatherman claims there are 20 still brewing ... And they all have names such as Barry, Chantal, Dean, Erin, Felix, Gabrielle, Humberto, Ingrid, Jerry, Karen, Lorenzo, Melissa, Noel, Olga, Pablo, Rebekah, Sebastien, Tanya, Van and Wendy.

Heartaches and heartbreaks

2007-04-30T13:24:00.000-07:00

THE BEARDED GIANT of a man glided through the warm November fog in his new Caddy convertible. His arm hung out the window as he and a butner headed for a cattle sale near Kitchener, Ontario.
His muscular physique had, seemingly, been destined for a football career and he even coveted a lengthy time in wrestling.
Following the cattle sale, the smiling Giant and his buddy retired to a pub and cooled off with a half dozen beers.
In the hours that followed, he noticed a sharp pain searing through his left shoulder. The Giant shook it off for he'd had much more severe pain on the playing field. However, overnight, his life changed forever.
The pain intensified. His friends convinced him liquor would soothe the ache that now spread throughout his body. The booze didn't help as he poured quarts down his throat.
With him lapsing into a semi-conscious state, a hospital ambulance was summoned; however, with so much liquor in his body, his doctor was livid and it took an entire weekend for the effects of the liquor to dissipate.
The series of tests followed with biopsies, spinal taps and prodding of his semi-conscious body and suddenly he started dropping weight from 270 to below 200 pounds. His frailness became noticeable to his friends and family in Hamilton General Hospital.
Soon his hands and arms were paralyzed and all muscle tone disappeared. Some thought it was Lou Gehrig's Disease -- amyotrophic lateral sclerosis -- named after the magnificent Yankee teammate of Babe Ruth. The great Iron Horse lost his skills in dramatic fashion in 1939 as old-time New York sportswriter Joe Williams noted: "We could almost hear his bones creak."
However, the Giant's doctor ruled it as "just a virus," even though he had no movement in his hands and depended even on others to assist him in opening a door or turning a TV knob. Over the period of a year, he was able to function again and he returned to his newspaper career, although his athletic career faded. It was years later that I was diagnosed to having Guilliane-Barre' syndrome. Dealing with it has been a struggle; however, it's another disease that seems incurable like Lou Gehrig's Disease that has taken so many lives of young and aspiring athletes.
Such related illnesses are often associated with playing on contaminated surfaces, such as chemical dumps. I know I have.
Take for instance, three players from the 1964 San Francisco Forty-Niners, who were diagnosed as having ALS. Running back Gary Lewis and Matt Hazeltine died in 1987 while quarterback Bob Waters also was felled by it.
Was it drugs? Was it the environment? Was it something sprayed on the practice field that triggered a breakdown in the body's immune system? Was it coincidence?
The questions after all these years still go unanswered.
A skilled linebacker friend of mine, who played on a chemical dump in the Toronto area throughout his career, diagnosed the problem just before he died of ALS. "It was the playing surface," the unidentified athlete, we'll call him Sam, told me. It was tragic as he faded into a frail, old man. Although only in his late 20s, Sam appeared as being in his late 80s.
ALS Canada has sent Dr. Donald McLachlan, a University of Toronto research neurologist, to Guam on several occasions to uncover a clue to the enigmatic killer, for on the U.S. Pacific island the incidences are 100 times greater than the norm. In the late 1980s, the disease struck 3,500 Americans -- two out of every 100,000 Americans -- annually.
Dr. McLachlan also had been probing into the relationship between Alzheimer's Disease and ALS, for he has noticed similarities, particularly in the concentration of aluminum, during autopsies on the brains of the victims of the two diseases.
There's another peculiar aspect to ALS, notably in Canada, in that the incidences are greater in three separate pockets: one in Nova Scotia, one in British Columbia and in the Windsor-Essex areas of Ontario.
However, not only athletes have been struck down, but distinguished actors such as the late David Niven. In the last few years of his life, Niven was a far cry from the dashing and energetic man who graced the movie screens and who was the author of a number of best-selling novels. ALS took an insidious toll of Niven's body, taking the use of his voice box, with Rich Little dubbing in Niven's unmistakable and distinguished speech.
It seems ALS has no cure and its victims are fated to die an early death.
As for Guillaine-Barre', it has no known cure, but its victims usually live productive lives. It has lingering effects, for each morning I wake up with numbness in my hands, arms and legs and my muscles have weakened a once strong man.

It's a Blog World after all

2007-04-26T12:58:00.000-07:00

THE LATE, GREAT Lewis Grizzard once wrote "these fingertips have never, and will never, touch one key on any sort of computer."
And somehow, the humourous columnist struggled through with the adage of: "Listen, you imbecile, there is only one way anybody should compose and that is upon a manual typewriter."
Some how, after a mountain high pile of scribblings, I sometimes wish I had listened to Lewis' advice. But I didn't. Instead during the past couple of decades, my knowledge has expanded from computers, which always seemed to malfunction, to advanced technology and now, within the past six months, I have "graduated" to the edge of another universe, called blogging.
As I've said before, the question is no longer "what's your sign?" but has sprouted into "what's your blog sign-on?"
And so in order to show my knowledge in this "art," I'm ready to give a few lessons from How Stuff Works.com.
So what is a blog, Professor?
Well, as the manual says, "a blog is a lot like an online journal or diary. The author can talk about anything and everything. Many blogs are full of interesting links that the author has found. Blogs often contain stories or little snippets of information that are interesting to the author."
However, that doesn't mean I'm about to tell you how I almost landed the "Big One" off Bass River on my blogs.
So, I'll just continue:
"Even though blogs can be completely free-form, many blogs have a focus. For example, if a blogger is interested in technology, the blogger might go to the Computer Electronics Show and post entries of the things he/she sees there. If a blogger is interested in a certain disease, he/she might post every news article and every piece of research he/she finds on the disease."
Say, Corbett, you're typing up all that information from the website, aren't you?
Alright, you caught me, but they are a great boon to a reporter, who's pressed for time and without much effort, he/she can get a new perspective, for as the howstuffworks site said, "there are now millions of them."
For a writer, who now has created at least five blogs, stuffed with columns and other trivia, it's been great, but what would Lewis think?
I think I know the answer, for Grizzard, if he were alive today, he would still be advocating the use of a manual typewriter and even citing the Bible as a reference point.
"Then they ask, "Where in the Bible?" Lewis wrote. "And I say, "The book of Royal," and they say there is no book of Royal in the Bible, and by that time I'm halfway down the street and the conversation is over." Incidentally, Royal was the name of the typewriter brand he always used.
To make another point, the man with the Southern drawl, cited the computer virus as the bane of society with these words: "It's been all over the news that something called Michelangelo, probably an evil spirit, could get into computers and wipe out everything stored in them. Great industries could be brought to their knees. Kingdoms could crumble. Authors could kill themselves in droves."
Then he also offered this bit of wisdom: "Do you think if Margaret Mitchell had done "Gone With the Wind" on a computer, and it had disappeared because of a dog's indiscretion, she would have gone to all the trouble of rewriting GWTW?"
Perhaps, it's fortunate that Lewis Grizzard has passed on to that Great Typewriter Heaven in the sky. After all, he would cringe at a veteran scribbler not only knowing how to blog, but also considering learning about iPods, etc.
***
CRY ME A RIVER: Although I promised not to haul out The Book of Lists again, a couple of "criers" made me do it. Yes, two hockey players made the List: Todd Bertuzzi and the Great One, no not Sid Crosby, but Wayne Gretzky ... Big Bertuzzi, once with the Vancouver Canucks and now with the Detroit Red Wings, bashed Colorado's Steve Moore with a sucker punch back in March 2004. Two days later, he broke down in tears before the media. As for the Phoenix Coyotes' head coach, who has now lost most of his front-office support staff including GM Mike Barnett, Gretzky has been long remembered for his tearful farewell from Edmonton to Los Angeles in 1988. Who ever said grown men don't cry?
***
FINALLY: Who said the Ol' Columnist doesn't get any e-mail? Just in the last 24 hours, I've heard from such suspects and their one-liners as Oscar Vegas: Getting thinner can be enjoyable ... Sidney Maxwell: Become fit and happy ... Gerald Baez: Look in the mirror and enjoy yourself ... Betsy Whitt: Obesity is dangerous, stop it. Incidentally, I didn't open any of this "hazardous" material even though I should lose the weight.

The Return of The Exorcist 2007

2007-04-24T10:55:00.000-07:00

WAS ANNA NICOLE SMITH demon-possessed?
After Bob Larson, the well-known exorcist, appeared on the Dr. Phil television program Tuesday afternoon, that highly-flammable topic will now be discussed throughout millions of households.
On Larson's website, he stated her death came as no shock. In fact, the energetic red-haired preacher was surprised she'd lived so long.
"The autopsy will only tell what physically killed her, not the spiritual reason behind her death. Anna Nicole was set up by Satan. Generational and family curses were hanging over her head from the day she was born. These curses grew stronger the longer she lived."
Then Rev. Larson reiterated his belief about the former Playboy Playmate with these words: "Although her life seemed to be rich and glamorous, it was not always like that. She hungered for attention.
"In one interview she said, 'I love the paparazzi ... I've always liked attention. I didn't get it very much growing up and I always wanted to be, you know, noticed.'
"Why didn't she get attention growing up? It probably had to do with the fact that her father abandoned her at a very young age. In a 2004 People magazine interview she said, 'I don't have any good memories from Christmas when I was a girl.'
"Her mother raised Anna (known as Vicki Lynn Hogan) as a single parent. This curse of abandonment literally turned her over to the devil. If her mother had known what do do, she could have broken the curse. Anna's life indicates that her mother did not break the curse."
Rev. Bob went on to state that "when she was a child, Ms. Smith declared she wanted to grow up to be like Marilyn Munroe. Well, she succeeded, down to the circumstances of her death. By wanting to be like Marilyn Monroe, Ms. Smith spoke a curse over her life and the devil used it to his evil advantage."
Then Larson went on to claim that besides Anna Nicole being born with a curse, so was her son, the now deceased Daniel, and "so was her new baby daughter that lawyers and ex-lovers are fighting over."
Demon possession would seem to be a fringe subject for late-night movies and even later late, late, late talk shows, but now Dr. Phil has brought it into the daylight.
In exploring the subject with Larson, who has been performing exorcisms for more than 30 years, he outlined on his website a litany of factors from demons and diseases; when is a person ready for an exorcism; to even where a demon goes when he's cast out.
So where do demons go?
This was Rev. Bob's answer: "I have cast out hundreds of demons, commanding every one of them to go to the pit. Every time I have cast demons to the pit, they have pleaded not to be sent there. I've confronted demons that screamed, writhed and begged to avoid the pit. As a practical matter, any place a demon doesn't want to go is where I want to send them."
Larson's expertise in the area of cults, the occult and supernatural phenomena has been sought throughout the world. He's appeared on Oprah, Donahue, Montel, Sally Jessie, Larry King Live, The O'Reilly Factor and, of course, Dr. Phil. Besides the TV talk shows and newspaper features, he's written some 30 books, including four best-selling novels, Dead Air, Abaddon, The Senator's Agenda and Shock Talk and others on such topics as In the Name of Satan and Extreme Evil: Kids Killing Kids.
Of course, Dr. Phil was correct in asking numerous questions, particularly the major one of whether the reverend was just on a witch hunt.
As for this investigative reporter (ID* Investigative Day), the subject of devil worship and exorcism has tweaked my interest in the past, however, it's been dormant for more than 20 years now, and for a valid reason.
In the 1980s, as an assistant to a well-known Canadian evangelist, I encountered something out of "The Exorcist" on at least one occasion.
While an exorcism was being performed, a small woman, about five feet tall and weighing in the neighbourhood of 110 pounds, growled and snarled, and threw three large men aside as if they were toothpicks. Her darting eyes still are ingrained in my memory bank.
Whether she was demon possessed is a matter of conjecture, but it was enough for me to leave the subject on the backburner until now.

There she is ... Miss America 1944

2007-04-23T07:13:00.000-07:00

OLD AGE has failed to slow down Venus Ramey.
And at 82 she has managed to thrust herself back in the headlines because of her tenacity.
For certain, there are other more descriptive words, but tenacity will do for now.
At an age when most seniors start to mellow, Venus Ramey, is just beginning to show that the red in her hair means something.
The other day, a guy named Curtis Parrish from Ohio and apparently others decided to "invade" her farm near Waynesburg, Ky. It was a bad idea.
When Miss Venus saw her dog run into a storage building, she knew something was up. And sure enough, apparently the scoundrels were trying to steal some old farm equipment.
They had been caught red-handed and one of them told her they were just leaving.
Well, Miss Venus wasn't having any of that and balancing on her walker she pulled out a snub-nosed .38-calibre handgun and plugged the intruder's tires.
In an AP news story, she was quoted as saying, "I'm trying to live a quiet, peaceful life and stay out of trouble, and all it is, is one thing after another."
And that should be the end of the story, but there's more, for Venus Ramey happens to be Miss America of 1944 and she's been a "fighter," all her life.
In peering into the Miss America scrapbook, it showed Venus had solid roots, for a relative fought in the Revolutionary War, a grandfather was a Kentucky state senator and her father was a Kentucky State Representative in 1934.
Venus showed her passion for politics by becoming a page in the Kentucky House and then she left for Washington, D.C.
She was never one to stay idle and with a flair for dancing, singing and comedy, Venus entered and won the Miss Washington D.C. title and then went on to claim the Miss America 1944 title, and without missing a beat she proceeded to sell war bonds.
According to the Miss America website, her picture was pasted on a B-17 fighter plane and that plane made 68 sorties over war-torn Germany without losing a man.
In 1945 she worked for Senator Kaper of Kansas and Congressman Somner of Missouri on the "suffrage" bill and, in 1947, Warner Brothers tried to sign her up for a Hollywood film, but by that time she was fed up with show biz.
Although Venus Ramey returned to Kentucky and her tobaco farm, where she married and raised two sons, her name never seemed to disappear from the newswires.
She ran for a seat in the Kentucky House on educational issues as well as trying to eradicate the word "illegitimate" from the birth certificates of "innocent children." And she even has had her own radio show and was publisher of a political newspaper.
One of her major achievements was getting the Over-The-Rhine area listed on the U.S. Registry of Historic Places in the 1970s.
And then her name faded; that was until just the other day when she fired her snub-nosed .38 at an intruder's get-away vehicle.
Now, the culprit and the world know of Miss Venus' tenacity.
***
Alright, since we're introduced you to Miss Venus, it might be interesting to find out who preceded her and who followed her as Miss America.
In 1943, soprano Jean Bartel from Los Angeles took the crown by singing Cole Porter's Night and Day.
While the pageant had been awash with bathing suits, Bartel refused to pose in one after taking the title and then she went on a Bond-selling tour.
Later, Bartel starred in a Broadway musical; worked in radio and TV on such shows as The Red Skelton Show, The Danny Thomas Show, Perry Mason and she even has had her own production called, It's a Woman's World.
Later she would run her own travel agency as well as being active in church work.
On September 17, 1945, a Time Magazine article read: "Atlantic City, once a mecca for giggling cuties in Mack Sennett bathing suits, abandoned itself for five days last week to a ponderous appraisal of the female mind. The occasion: the annual Miss America contest. The prize: a $5,000 college scholarship on a take-it-or-leave-it basis. The winner: Miss New York City, a Hunter College graduate named Bess Myerson, who excels at the flute and pianoforte."
Then the last paragraph of the article read: "On the last night of this unique academic process Miss America 1945 was crowned by Miss America of 1944, a typist named Venus Ramey, who seemed more the physical than the intellectual type. It was obvious that the winner deserved her victory. She had been cool and ladylike throughout and had played Grieg's Piano Concerto in A Minor without a bobble. She also looked good in a bathing suit."
Bess Myerson also made a name for herself, having appearing in various TV shows in the 1950s and 1960s and being involved in controversial New York City politics in the 1970s and 1980s.
In recent years, although ailing, she has been involved in social causes and philanthropy.

When evil walked the hallways

2007-04-17T17:32:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, April 17/07
WHEN 23-year-old South Korean-born student, Cho Seung-Hui, shot and killed fellow Virginia Tech students and teachers, most at point-blank range, it brought to the forefront the disturbing question of Why?
His identity has been determined, but the reasons for his murderous behaviour on the sprawling Blacksburg, Va. campus, which is home to at least 26,000 students, remains. However, a note uncovered by the Chicago Tribune, may give a clue to the killer's state of mind. That note rails about "rich kids" on campus, "debauchery" and "deceit" by "charlatans." He signed the note "Ismail Ax" in red ink.
Of course, the Virginia Tech massacre follows in an ever-growing list of "killing fields," which has even included Canada. The most notable being the 14 women slaughtered in the corridors of Montreal's Ecole Polytechnique by 25-year-old Marc Lepine on Dec. 6, 1989. Lepine, who would kill himself, actually separated the men from the women and then opened fire on the female engineering students while screaming, "I hate feminists."
However, such shootings on a massive scale stretches back to August 1, 1966 when Charles Whitman climbed to the top of the tower at the University of Texas and opened fire. He murdered 15, including his mother and his wife the night before.
And who can forget about the milkman who shot 10 Amish girls in a picture-book Pennsylvania schoolhouse in October 2006?
Or who can forget Columbine?
In April 1999, teenagers Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold wiped out the hopes and dreams of 12 fellow students and a teacher in the Colorado high school.
All these mass killings, including the Virginia Tech madness, had, seemingly, been pre-mediated.
While the previous massacres have been as a result of gunfire, the most savage attack came as a result of three bombings in Bath Township, Michigan on May 18, 1927. In this deadliest mass murder in U.S. school history, farmer Andrew Kehoe slaughtered 45 people and injured 58.
In trying to piece together Kehoe's rampage, it seems as a school board member he was furious over a property tax that had been levied to fund the school building and, in turn, he blamed the additional tax on causing foreclosure on his farm.
Kehoe "snapped" over a period of many months.
After killing his wife on the morning of May 18, he set his farm buildings on fire and as the firefighters arrived at his farm, a devastating explosion occurred at the school building. Kehoe had secretly planted dynamite and hundreds of pounds of pyrotol inside the school and he set it off with a detonator.
However, Kehoe wasn't finished with his deadly rampage. He drove over to the school area; denotated a bomb inside his shrapnel-filled vehicle, killing himself and the school superintendent.
As with most killers, Kehoe had a sordid history.
It seems when he was 14, the family's stove exploded as his stepmother was attempting to light it. According to Wikipedia, the oil fueling the stove soaked her, and the flames set her on fire. Andrew watched his hated stepmother burn for a few minutes before dumping a bucket of water on her. She would later die from the injuries. The stove malfunction was left unresolved, and Kehoe was never charged.
Among Kehoe's attack were children in the second to sixth grades attending the Bath Consolidated School.
Now nearly 80 years later, the Virginia Tech slaughter took 33 lives of the learning and teaching elite and one sullen gunman.
***
As expected, the "copycats" are starting to come out of their holes as I knew they would.
While writing this column, there were reports of threats and lockdowns and even evacuations at universities in Texas, Oklahoma, Tennessee and two public schools in Louisiana.
* Bogalusa, Louisiana High School and Middle School and Bowling Green School, Franklinton, La.: Man arrested for threatening mass killing.
* St. Edward's University, Austin, Texas: Threatening note found.
* University of Tennessee, Chattanooga, Tenn.: Telephone bomb threat.
* University of Oklahoma: Man spotted carrying a suspicious object. It was an umbrella, not a weapon.

Stem-cell therapy for diabetics

2007-04-11T04:04:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, April 11, 2007, 4:15 a.m.
SINCE I HAVE been a diabetic since the 1970s, the following report from The (London) Times caught my eye this morning:

Diabetics using stem-cell therapy have been able to stop taking insulin injections for the first time, after their bodies started to produce the hormone naturally again.
In a breakthrough trial, 15 young patients with newly diagnosed type 1 diabetes were given drugs to suppress their immune systems followed by transfusions of stem cells drawn from their own blood.
The results show that insulin-dependent diabetics can be freed from reliance on needles by an injection of their own stem cells. The therapy could signal a revolution in the treatment of the condition, which affects more than 300,000 Britons.
People with type 1 diabetes have to give themselves regular injections to control blood-sugar levels, as their ability to create the hormone naturally is destroyed by an immune disorder.
All but two of the volunteers in the trial, details of which are published today in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA), do not need daily insulin injections up to three years after stopping their treatment regimes.

Trying to keep up with the Jones Boys (April 8/07)

2007-04-08T04:43:00.000-07:00

CONNOR and KELLEN JONES are certainly a pair of "cool" customers, on and off the ice.
While others would expect two 16-year-olds to be a bundle of nerves, they have been far from it, acting with the professionalism of two veterans of the ice wars.
Tonight in Nanaimo's Frank Crane Arena, the spotlight will probably be on the "name" stars from the visiting Vernon Vipers, who will battle the hometown Clippers in the first game of the best-of-seven BCHL championship series, but the Jones Boys, up from the KIJHL's Beaver Valley Nitehawks, along with their "major midget" linemate, David Robinson, from the Kelowna-based Okanagan Rockets, could steal the show.
They have in the past.
In fact, Connor has scored three goals along with five assists for eight points in 10 Vernon playoff games while brother, Kellen, has collected seven points with three goals and four assists in an equal number of games. Linemate Robinson has two goals and four assists in six games.
And while the veterans such as Hunter Bishop, Andrew Coburn, Patrick Cey, Mike Ullrich, Kyle St. Denis and others have been the club's mainstays, during the playoff doldrums it has been the Jones Boys and Robinson, who have shown their savvy in thrusting the Vipers past Trail and Penticton in the Interior playoffs.
Of course, the Jones' twins were "superstars" with the Junior B Nitehawks, coached and managed by their father, Terry, who was on the 1983 Memorial Cup-winning Portland Winter Hawks.
Although they played most of the past season with the Nitehawks, Connor scored one goal and had two assists for three points after being called up for two regular-season games with the Vipers while Kellen picked up an assist in his two games. Robinson, the captain of the Rockets, played four games with Vernon although he didn't record any points.
To illustrate their nerves of steel, the Grade 11 students were being "marked" by their teacher, Bernie Pimm, in the Vernon office while a few halleujahs and amens seeped through the walls from the more than 1,200 attending the Good Friday services in the Vernon Multiplex.
Then the two retired from the tests to the team's dressing room where the veteran teacher turned associate coach Pimm gave some last-minute instructions before the Interior Conference champions headed for Nanaimo.
Then the pair took time out to be interviewed.
Although they've had terrific success during their tenure with the Mark Holick-coached Vipers, it's not known if they will return next season. They'll make that decision over the summer.
As for their linemate Robinson, they said in unison: "He fitted in because he plays like us."
Both have found the BCHL "a little quicker and you have to think a little faster."
As for their next opponent, they had the same answer: "We don't know anything about Nanaimo since we haven't played them this year ... We'll just go out and play."
Of course, the Clippers haven't seen the likes of the line of Connor and Kellen Jones along with David Robinson. With their speed and agility the Coastal Conference champions might not be ready for such a surprise.
THAT'S ICE: The Clippers boast such standouts as rookie Russell Goodman, Cody Danberg, Kyle Ostrow, Max Grassi, Mikael Bedard and Joe Bitz. They reached the BCHL final by eliminating the Cowichan Valley Capitals four games to two. The Vipers, meanwhile, stopped the Penticton Vees 4-1 in the Interior final.