E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

A  poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.

This blog confesses to finding this a very challenging time in world history - a time of threatened democracies, threatened peoples and enclaves and nations, threatened ways of being human, threatened ecosystems and indeed the planet... it is perhaps the Age of Threats, best exemplified by the excesses of billionaire capitalism, big tech, and drone warfare. It is a tough time. So, when Liam Neeson releases a new movie, we watch it. Simply for escapism. For the idea that someone can solve some of these problems, with their skill set. Now, critical standards are important, when one is a critic, but less so when one is a consumer of an escapeway to another world. Liam Neeson's "violent dad" movies are not for everyone. His Taken films are admittedly the gold standard of the Neeson genre. But we love his always the same but different characters, wherever they appear, in warm or blizzard conditions, especially when they start somewhat isolated or sad, and suddenly have a job...

20 years ago, when blogging was a new past-time, and this blog had just recently begun, a major terrorist attack took place in London. This is what I posted that day, here, exactly 20 years ago: "The thing we feared most has happened: Madrid-style, multiple terrorist attacks on the London Underground and bus routes in the heart of London, timed with surgical cruelty after London's Olympic win and the start of the G8 summit. It is an unsettling time, and there have been many casualties. So far, over 33 fatalities have been reported. It is - weatherwise and ironically (as in New York in 2001) - a warm, sunny day now, with lovely blue skies. Tens of thousands of would-be commuters are slowly walking home early. With no underground system, some mainline services closed, and few buses in Zone 1, some will be walking for hours. The streets are eerily calm, punctuated by sirens. The people of London, accustomed to such things, are brave and will endure, but this is a sad day for all ...

As the saying goes, a week in politics is a long time, and, as they also say, there are some weeks where it seems like years happen, and so it is, six weeks on from the last post, we now have an American (sort of) Pope, a new major war in the Middle East, and a US president behaving increasingly like Nixon in the late 1960s. Indeed, the current moment seems peculiarly like 1968: a criminal president, conflict in the Middle East, a major superpower war inflicted on a smaller country (then Vietnam, now Ukraine), and political assassinations, the national guard out in the streets of America, and nationwide protests. Probably the main difference is, there are fewer Maoists now, and we've lost John Lennon and Brian Wilson ; but, broadly speaking, this is a hinge year and a hinge moment, and when it isn't feeling like '68, it is feeling like '39. Let us hold our breath and hope that peace comes to Iran and Israel, and Gaza, sooner, rather than later. A lot is going to depen...

  The past few days have revealed that Donald Trump is possibly even more insane and out of control than previously imagined - or - worse - insane and perfectly in control. His potentially-blasphemous, and certainly poor-taste mockery of the recently deceased Pope Francis , in which he let his likeness be AI-modified (as above) and released by the official White House X account, with him dressed as the Pope, was simply weird, especially since Catholics make up a large voting block within MAGA-world (or did). Trump is also not a theological expert, or even a Catholic, and hardly the ideal candidate to wear the shoes of the fisherman. Now for 4th May, he appeared as a Sith Lord (see the red light), incorrectly we assume. More seriously, if that word applies, in a recent interview for a major TV channel, he claimed he would consider military force against Greenland (a NATO ally) to annex the land; ruled out invading Canada (thank you O mighty one!) - and yesterday also - decided to r...

This blog, whose main editor and writer voted in the Canadian federal election, thinks the Liberals, led by Mr Carney , would form the best government to stand up to Mr Trump ; but does not think any strong government that opposes Trumpism would be especially unfortunate. The main thing is to stand strong against Trump. Trump, whose unbalanced (and recent, again) trolling online about Canada as the 51st State is, at the least, incredibly, absurdly rude, DESTABILISING, WEIRD, and undiplomatic; coming from a US president with nuclear weapons, and the army to conquer Canada, it is also provocative, and frightening, whether said in jest, half-jest or all earnestness. Probably Mr Trump doesn't know for sure himself. The USA could dominate Canada more than it already does, militarily, economically, and politically. Canadians, by a landslide majority, do not want to become Americans. And the entire history of the founding of Canada, as a settler colony made up of French and British compet...

We stopped writing about Easter When our tree ran out of gas; The eggs warmed; the crosses burned. Buns sued Maine. The bunny made ominous Threats towards Greenland. The parade   Turned itself into a hatchet, and dug itself out Of the grave. The land gave up its dead, And not in a good way. Friday went backwards, And the living died like they were in dubious prison For the criminally bald. The mild weather Spoke ill of old Europe, and the wind sang About the merry days of ruination in the markets. The cherry blossoms stopped at every border, To pay for themselves with their own vanishing; Fear went freelance like a befurred farrier, The dangling promises hung themselves out to dry, And no one woke to find anything sweet hidden In plain sight, it was all very unclear where any Of us were; and then Romans handed us nails, Some non-Canadian wood, ordered us To vote with our blows, which brought in a landslide Of blood and flesh, pouring out ...