The Revenge: The Ship’s Death

April 7, 2008 – 4:35 am

Chloe Bradshaw is 13. The previous installment of her pirate saga can be found here.

The man who stood before me was supposed to be dead, and yet he wasn’t.

“How?” I said in a gasp.

“I cannot answer that, for I don’t know either.”

“How old are you?”

“I have been around for about a century.”

“Have you ever died?” Mr Williams interrupted.

“Yes, once, …” Luke’s mind seemed to wander. “It was awful.”

My face must have betrayed a rush of sympathy toward him.

“Do not feel sorry for me, I have seen many things in my time.” He insisted.

“Yes, I’m sure you have but haven’t you ever wished that you could die?” I asked.

“Most of the time. However, I have learned to live with immortality. One has to, after a while.”

I wanted him to meet my crew, deciding to keep mum about his amazing abilities for a while.

Up the stairs we went, the steps creaking underfoot as they had before, seemingly a million years ago. I noticed that Luke’s feet made no sound, as though he was walking on air. Read More »

By Feature Writer | Posted in Arts & Literature, YA, fiction | Comments (5)

Who Speaks For Islam: A Review

April 5, 2008 – 11:46 pm

This is a review of Who Speaks For Islam: What A Billion Muslims Really Think, by John Esposito and Dalia Mogahed. Gallup Poll Press. First Printing: 2007.

This book attempts a systematic survey of how Muslims generally view democracy, civil rights, the status of women, and the relationship between Islam and the West.

The most important message behind the book is the notion of how similar the citizens of Muslim nations and people living in the West are. For example, in the first chapter, “ Democracy and Theocracy”, 42% percent of Americans interviewed in a Gallup poll survey suggested that “ religious leaders should have a direct role in writing the constitution.” 55% percent believe that religious leaders should “ play no role at all.” According to the book, the Iranian population has presented similar opinions.

This book contains surprises. For example, it claims that 60% percent of pro-democracy Muslims went to a religious service in the past seven days before being interviewed. Clearly, such statistics force a re-think of the very definition of democracy. Is there only one form of democracy? Must a good democracy separate religion and politics? Is the Western form of democracy widely accepted as the only standard?

Most importantly, can a model of democracy which embraces religious principles and democratic values actually exist? Read More »

By Jonathan Mok | Posted in Arts & Literature, book reviews, islam | Comments (2)

The Black Beast Rides No More

April 5, 2008 – 4:43 am

Having an attachment to an inanimate object gives me pause, but I have such an attachment nonetheless.

See, we’ve finally given the family transport vehicle, a 1994 black Suburban, otherwise known as the Beast, its walking papers. With one child in college and another soon to follow, we no longer have the need to cart six people around. This, oddly enough, has made me sad.

The Beast was quite the rig in its day. I distinctly remember being impressed with the two-zone heating system, noting that it wasn’t until my third move that I had such a feature in my house. Alas, the new features out there seem to have eclipsed the Beast.

There’s no DVD player for long drives, meaning that the annual, 400 mile trek to Mt. Ste. Anne in Quebec would quickly try the patience of the driver as children stuffed in against food boxes would tire of staring out at the flat, barren fields shortly after getting over the border.

We attempted to solve the problem with a portable TV/VCR combination that sat on the console between the driver and front passenger seat. It was great for the children, but the speaker on the television was on the rear left of the set, meaning it was loudest for the individual who wanted to listen to it the least.

This configuration likely shaved a few points off my license. One year, I distinctly remember coming up over a rise on 93 shortly after getting on it from 91 in St. Johnsbury and casually passing a trooper going 90 MPH or so, then simply pulling over to deny said trooper the thrill of the chase. My wife was certain I was a dead man, as was I.

The trooper sidled up to the car and looked in to three pre-teen boys at attention and a three-year-old girl with tears running down her cheeks. The Trooper asked how fast I was going, and I managed to give him an estimate that was five miles in excess of what he had clocked me at on his radar, causing him to compliment me on my reaction time.

He then asked me if there was a reason for being in such a hurry. I am not sure what look I had on my face, but what I was thinking is not printable. I managed to maintain my civility and said, “Well, we are coming from Quebec and are about halfway home. We had to pry my daughter out of the McDonald’s fun house kicking and screaming about 10 miles back and, frankly officer,” I said, tapping the TV/VCR that was my perpetual arm rest, “You can only listen to Thomas the Tank Engine on continuous loop for so long, you know?” Read More »

By Feature Writer | Posted in Society, family, humor, north america | Comments (0)

I Done Wrote Some Letters

April 3, 2008 – 6:18 am

“…letters mingle souls” - John Donne.

Since I’m something of a handsome expert on everything, I’m familiar with therapeutic techniques. These are the tools that psychiatrists use to keep you coming back for repeat business, and getting “in touch with yourself,” instead of compressing all of your feelings into a tiny sponge ball regularly saturated with grain alcohol and non-prescription medications.

While I’m skeptical of therapy that doesn’t involve punching through a concrete wall or slashing somebody’s tires, I’m an open-minded individual. And so we reach my first reason for writing today: I’m want to explore my inner psyche through letter writing.

I’m going to write letters to people and things, explaining exactly how I feel, and never send those letters. It’s widely accepted in “the field,” as we call it (however, there will be no emo music playing in the background, and my on-screen love interest won’t find the letter at the worst possible time causing a montage of brooding scenes at the end of which we hook up anyway).

I am also hoping that these letters will be saved, long after I’m dead, and reproduced in a best-selling novel about my life. Sort of like that did for that guy that broke it down with a sick flow at Gettysburg. Just in case that does happen, future historians, here’s a tentative title for my biography “Hormes: Abdominals like Tank Armor.”

And here it is: The Collected Correspondences of Joseph T. Hormes.

Dear DMX,

I recently read your interview, in which you were surprised to learn that a black man is running for president, and asked “What the **** is a Barack?”

This is an excellent question, and there are no answers forthcoming. You’re an insightful, unique man, and I am sure that if you and “Barack” were to throw down in a freestyle battle, you would almost certainly **** his ****, and then **** the **** over and around his ****.

Also, arresting you just for ramming into the airport with your car was – in my eyes – incredibly unfair. Read More »

By Joe Hormes | Posted in Columnist, Science & Technology, Society, humor | Comments (0)

To Pick & Choose

April 2, 2008 – 5:00 am

after the quiz,
looking in a mirror,
fussing with her hair

waiting at the door
for his walk, the dog
awaits his leash

our old dog
runs through fields
in his dreams

first deep snow–
one can hear the quiet

being quiet
involves more than just
being quiet

behind the red light
birds fly back and forth
over the highway

mid december walk–
dog sniffs carefully the new
yard decorations

By Feature Writer | Posted in Arts & Literature, poetry | Comments (0)

In Belgrade And In Love

April 1, 2008 – 5:35 am

No. 42 was once an elegant house. Its crumbling façade exuded an air or mystery and romance. As I stood on its cracked marble doorstep I felt I had arrived home.

For sixty years, No. 42 was the home of my Serbian great grandmother, Granny Spasa. Like today’s Belgrade, Granny Spasa was original, colourful, beautiful and never, ever dull.

A visit to modern Belgrade is full of surprises, beginning with the drive from the airport. My guide was Milo, a handsome young charmer with hedgehog hair who wore a bright blue leather jacket.

Milo drove his 1960’s Mercedes as if he were practicing for an F1 race, speeding to the heart of a city along tree-lined boulevards. Here, many buildings are scarred by bomb damage, and some have been reduced entirely to rubble. These sights are sad reminders of Serbia’s recent war troubles. To make matters worse, many ancient Ladas and Skodas still dominate Belgrade’s streets, making the air harder to breathe.

And yet, such problems are quickly forgotten when one encounters the joyful vitality of the new generation of Belgradians. Serbs, I would discover, party hard. One guy told me: “Darling, if you have any trouble with men, you tell me and I deal with them” - “Deal with them?” - “Never you mind, this is Serbia, it’s the jungle.” I had the chance to reflect on that statement later.

I wasn’t thinking about men as I went up to my great grandmother’s wonderful apartment. The next-door neighbor told me that Granny Spasa loved fish so much that she used one bath as a fish tank, dipping in when she was ready to cook and eat a particular specimen. She kept the other as a bathroom as her washroom, thank God. The hot water came from a small boiler tank, sometimes leaving one with a lukewarm bath; fine for fish, but not so good for humans. Luckily, five star hotels like the Hyatt and Hotel Yugoslavia don’t have this problem.

In the town restaurants, gypsies play romantic music on accordions and you are treated to delicious Serbian specialties such as Cevapcici with Ajvar (Serbian meatballs with red pepper sauce) or Pasulj (Serbian bean soup), Gibanitiza (Cheese pie) and so on. After getting through such a menu, I had to dance it off.

This is how I found Black Panther, a nightclub located on a barge in a district called Splav. I was told that guns are sometimes fired in the air there, but assuaged by assurances that this sort of thing is done only for show.

Nightclub barges in Splav have different atmospheres, but male exhibitionism is the dominant theme. Read More »

By Feature Writer | Posted in Society, europe, travel | Comments (0)