Thursday, April 12, 2007

Dragon Incinerates White Knight



Well, so much for crusading.

Seems I tried to be the white knight in getting a smelly garbage incinerator out of town, the town itself sued for "public nuisance", and the fiery and smelly dragon still won.

My lance is broken.

The dragon has incinerated me. And his belches and farts are still smelling up the town.

Now, he's going to go after my virgins.

The story, which should have run prominently opposite the editorial page, was instead bumped by a McDonald's ad, and what came out ws this drastically reduced bit:



Newmarket won't appeal a judge's ruling granting Halton Recycling Ltd. an indefinite stay.

Instead, the town will continue to work with the province's Environment Ministry to ensure Halton implements its action plan to eliminate odours emanating from the plant.

Councillors ratified the decision yesterday.

"We still strongly disagree with the judge's decision to extend the stay indefinitely," Mayor Tony Van Bynen said in a news release.

"However, council has weighted the options and realizes that an appeal will not accomplish anything for our residents if Halton completes the action plan in time.

Meanwhile, Halton has been ordered to pay the town's court fees incurred during the legal action against the firm.

Superior Court justice A. Bryant issued the ruling today, ordereing Halton to pay $227, 178 resulting from the towns application to have Halton declared a public nuisance in September, 2006.

The town, meanshile, must reimburse $34,604 of Halton's legal fees for Halton's successful March 2 decision to hve the stay period extended...



And so it goes.

You do your part to save the planet

You recycle everything you can, paper and cardboard in one blue box, plastic and glass in the other, food scraps in the green bin.

And the mammoth incinerator at the east end of town spews burnt plastic, arsenic and aerosol.

I once studied politics under David Crombie, a man known in Canada for not only his political acumen, but rising at one time to Mayor of Toronto.

Said Prof. Crombie:

"Well, it's really Plato's Myth of the Cave.

"We are in the cave, able to see only what's projected on the screen (Al Gore? David Suzuki?) while the reality out there is something else."

23 comments:

EAMonroe said...

That's sad, Ivan. I guess "reality" = $$$$$$$$$$$$$. It's always we the little people who have to pay.

islandgrovepress said...

I couldn't agree more, Liz.

Ivan

Josie said...

Ivan, you tried, and that's the main thing. We'll have to call you St. George.

I'm still laughing at the comment you left on my blog. I think I will be ***laughing*** all evening.

Josie

islandgrovepress said...

Josie,
Yes, that girl on the beach in the Beatles song would certainly be noticeable, wouldn't she.
Heh.

Ivan

Josie said...

Don't get me started again.

***chuckle***

islandgrovepress said...

Yep,

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Everybody notices when "the Girl With Colitis Goes By".

Ivan

islandgrovepress said...

ea,

You working on your novel(s)?

Send me a chapter.

Betch it'll be a snapper.

We are still working mightily on some sort of award through Island Grove Press.

EAMonroe said...

Ivan, St. George! I've tried several times to leave comments in various ways, but blogger wouldn't let me.

I'm still working on the novel, but here is an excerpt from one of the chapters that I posted last September.

http://eamonroe.blogspot.com/2006/09/butterflies-are-free.html

EAMonroe said...

PS -- it's cold and rainy here. I have your email with Josie's "button!"

islandgrovepress said...

Damn blogger!

Other people have complained they can't get through.

Also blogger won't allow me to comment on my own blog without being inventive.
Maybe beta should be into vacuum cleaners. Starting to suck!

Ivan

islandgrovepress said...

Liz,

Google gave me nothing with
http://eamonroe.blogspot.com/2006/09/butterflies-are-free.html

I went into your archives and found they only picked up in early October of 2006.

You can send by plain email if you like.

Blogger a bit off, maybe my browser as well.
Maybe we should go back to chiselling in stone!

BTW,
While poring through archives, I had another look at some of your pictures around high school era.
Wow.

Ivan

islandgrovepress said...

Further to Liz,

Out mighty production team is working on final versions of buttons and logos.

Ivan

EAMonroe said...

Hi Ivan. I was busy posting and editing, so maybe blogger wouldn't let you into the archives. That was around the date Sept. 20. You might try again.

I learned something interesting. Even though I posted my little piece today, Friday 13, blogger put the date of when I first wrote it and saved it as a draft. I wonder if there's any way to make it do the "real" posting date? I'm not html literate enough to mess with that stuff!

islandgrovepress said...

I found your piece, Liz, the "Butterflies Are Free" one.

It is quite pretty, viz.,


Stepping across the stones that littered the streambed, Zaire crossed the Farewell and walked among the beeches toward two white, leaning stone markers that sprouted from the earth. Reverence settled upon her and drew her closer. Peace guarded the clearing where Eolande and Cymbeline slept; water sang and the peeps and twitters of the wild canaries joined the chorus.

The wind hummed and sighed, a suspiring of leaves and pine needles; sylph spirits rode the voice of the wind: Welcome child.

A host of butterflies rose in a flurry of gold and white iridescent swirls, their bodies almost too heavy for the flutter of their fragile wings. Some skittered among the nearby witch hazels or clung to tree limbs and leaves, droplets of living color. Other butterflies hovered or settled upon the white stone markers, their wings opening and closing — a slow beat of resurrection. Still others of the tiny creatures rested and fed upon nectar succored from the Dreamweaver flowers before beginning their migratory journey South.

Zaire walked among the butterflies. Some alighted upon her hair and clung to her clothing and arms. Sinking to her knees upon the flower-strewn earth, she stretched her hand to one of the standing stones. She stroked her fingertips across sun-warmed stone and traced the name carved into its surface. Butterflies kissed her wrist and knuckles.

“Eolande, mother of my blood,” she murmured. “Why, Great Mother? Why did Silveron do this?”

Wind stirred through the trees. He is the one.

“I gifted him the Starstone!”

Do you love him?

“What is love?” Zaire lifted her face to a warm gust. Butterflies, caught upon the wind, swirled into the semblance of a woman, their wings flashing gold and silver in the sun. Tears struck her afresh.

“I do not have the courage to forsake my blood and heritage enough to forgive!”

Wind tangled her hair and caressed her face; its disembodied voice teased her ear, a comforting lullaby.

Hush, child.

The wind sighed and stilled; the swirl of butterflies settled upon stone, twig and leaf. She lay upon her back and gazed up through the treetops swaying against a patch of blue. She rested in the moment — butterflies alighting upon her, covering her. She closed her eyes, and as the wind sighed and the wild canaries twittered, and green and gold leaves rippled, she dreamed of a man who shone like a brilliant sun haloed by plumes of fire; a man who wrapped her in his arms and kissed her; a man who pressed her into the forest loam and spilled his seed into her womb.

A lifetime ago she had loved the golden man, as she now loved Silveron Oktalonli. Silveron resided in her heart, in her soul as surely as the flame that burned within the heart of the Starstone. Was the golden man and Silveron the same man? What power had brought him back to this lifetime? What force had lured him to walk the earth in flesh again?

The wind whispered. Love.

* * *

Posted by EAMonroe at 9/20/2006

...............

It is quite a lovely fantasy.

Ivan

islandgrovepress said...

eamonroe,

I just had a good look at your current post, "Twelve Years Ago: April l9, 1995".
It is a heartfelt and intelligent display.

Odd that I read the Butterfly piece first.

Dark butterfly effect of world events, eventually striking Oklahoma City so tragically.

In Quebec, we have a motto, "Je me soviens"--I will not forget.

Ivan

islandgrovepress said...

Another note to Liz,

Pasting and forwarding should work, but I've already retrieved your Butterfly story.


Ivan

p.s.:
I think you are psychic.
Friday 13 is the luckies of days for me. It was the day I was hired by Seneca College to instruct. It is also a day that I somehow find money (and talent?) in the streets.

I.

JR's Thumbprints said...

I would like to sympathize with you regarding the incinerator, unfortunately, I see truckload after truckload of Canadian garbage being hauled into Michigan day after day after day. I say burn your own garbage, or better yet, recycle it as you've suggested.

EAMonroe said...

Ivan, you have been busy!

When I wrote that about the "events having significance," I was thinking of that phrase (forget who said it) about a butterfly unfurling its wings on one side of the world and a hurricane happens on the other side of the world.

There's a bit of a "reincarnation" theme that runs through the characters in the VOW series, from which that excerpt was taken.

islandgrovepress said...

How right you are, JR.

We Canadians seem to project a benign face to the world--then moon our immediate neighbours.

Ivan

Josie said...

Ivan, et al, Pam (Sienna) said she has had trouble with Blogger too. It won't let her post a new post, or get through to anyone else's blogs. I miss her.

Josie

islandgrovepress said...

Josie,

I certainly miss Pam as well, as Pam and I had been working on something together.
We's been sending stuff back and forth to each other by snail mail, something that takes a long time to get back and forth between continents. Now the blogger jam.

I have been in contact with big media on something Pam and I are working on. So far, big media is a bit slow to respond, though the top media columnist at the Star emailed me to express her congratulations on having a thoroughbred in Australia named after me. Unfortunately, Antonia, my budddy at the Star, has either given up her media blog or it was curtailed--I don't know the politics at the Star these days; her commentators had expressed the most outrageous opinions about certain big people in the media and the middleast situation and that had led to sparks and fire. Antonia says she just got tired of anal people with anal opinions on her nationally-read blog.
She does retain her "treeware" column and she remains influential there.
Anyway the response from the Star people on my projects has been quite warm...I just hope I didn't complicate things with my crusading. Right now, Island Grove Press needs all the big media help it can get. Seems we are approaching the edges of some kind of success.
Oh dang. Maybe it's just the last quarter of a very bad moon.
I am waitng for my pants to fall off!

Ivan

Donnetta Lee said...

Ivan: Josie is right, you tried! I like EA naming you--Ivan St. George. Could be a pen name!
Donnetta

islandgrovepress said...

Hi Donnetta,
I sincerely hope you're feeling better.
Thanks for the canonizing.
I suppose Ivan St. Geore would be a good enough pen name, excetpt that I hang around with a guy already named Ivan St. George.

Actually I have managed, somehow, to make my own name something of a household word here in Newmarket; I think it's because I once ran for Mayor.
Now lovely Pam has named her Australian thoroughbred "Prokopchuk". Scion of champions. Heh.

Megalomania: Tomorrow the world!
All because an Australian lady likes my work.

Thanks for your comment, and I hope the doctors have found something to cure both that awful dental thing and the stomach flu...You must have felt like--how does my poetess Janet Harver put it?--EXIT.

Cheers,

Ivan