What bothers me is that he’s not the first person to accuse me of using AI. Not that he was wrong, I do use it. I also use a computer, the internet, and search engines, and Word checks my spelling and grammar.

What am I supposed to do, write on parchment I’ve made myself using only information I’ve gotten by directly interviewing experts?

The number of people who have AI derangement syndrome is astounding. If they aren’t complaining that AI will destroy the world or take all our jobs, they’re complaining that it’s making us lazy or worse.

Note: If the concern is jobs, read this. Spoiler alert: the worry is exaggerated.

Here are two recent examples:

• ‘Think outside the bots’: How to stop AI from turning your brain to mush

• “AI chatbots could be making you stupider”

According to the first story, “GPS ruined our sense of direction. Search engines weaken our memory. AI, scientists warn, could do the same to everything from creativity to critical thinking.”

I have no doubt it’s true.

If you let AI do everything for you. However, if you use it intelligently – for research, editing, feedback, etc. - then it’s simply a tool.

I remember when technical advances were to be praised. Now it seems we’ve become a society of Luddites. Or have we?

This isn’t the first time people have argued that a new technology was going to make people dumber. Let’s look at some of the big ones:

• Writing - Socrates worried that it would weaken memory and create the illusion of knowledge instead of true understanding.

• Printing Press - Critics feared that it would result in a flood of cheap books which would spread misinformation, and that, without proper guidance, would lead to shallow reading and heretical ideas.

• Newspapers - Jean-Jacques Rousseau (among others) were concerned that they would encourage superficial thinking, gossip, and distract from serious intellectual life.

• Novels - Moralists and educators in the 18th–19th centuries believed that “trivial” reading would weaken discipline, especially among youth and women, and blur reality vs fantasy.

• Calculators - Educators in the 20th century thought students would lose basic arithmetic skills and become mentally lazy.

• Radio - Early 20th-century commentators worried that passive listening would replace reading and critical thought and that families would become less engaged with each other.

• Television - See “Radio” above, but add that it would shorten attention spans and turn public discourse into a shallow spectacle.

• Video Games - Parents, psychologists, and policymakers since the 1980s argue that it leads to addiction, reduced attention span, and less real-world socialization.

• Internet / Search Engines - Critics were concerned that constant access to information reduces deep thinking and memory (“outsourcing the brain”). Sound familiar?

• Smartphones / Social Media - Researchers, educators, and public figures today argue that they shortened attention spans, fuel dopamine-driven distraction, reduced face-to-face interaction, and lead to dependency.

I’m old enough to remember the last four, and I’d argue that the concerns around TV, video games, and search engines were overblown.

The jury is still out on smartphones and social media, as you’ve no doubt noticed based on the number of governments looking to ban them. I wouldn’t give a 16-year-old a bottle of whiskey, and I’m not sure giving them access to social media is any better.

That doesn’t mean that every new advance will ruin people, though. Or that sometimes there aren’t legitimate concerns. However, history also shows that people tend to adapt, and new tools often shift intelligence rather than simply degrading it.

What usually comes down to is this: if you’re using AI to do your writing, or if you believe everything it says, you’re heading for trouble. Use it wisely, though – and with a healthy dose of skepticism – and you’ll be just fine.

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At the end of the day, it comes down to who is doing your thinking, you or AI, and we each make that decision for ourselves.

If you’re letting AI do your thinking, maybe you weren’t all that smart to begin with.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

A relative was watching my toddler, so it was just my newborn and me, so this was the perfect time to shop for the perfect basket to surprise her as well.

I decided dipping eggs would frustrate my three-year-old since we’re still working on eye-hand coordination, and she hates getting her sleeves wet currently, but painting little cardboard eggs would be better, so I picked up a kit.

Unfortunately, I have not been cleared postpartum to run and jump at this time, so museums and large indoor spaces on rainy days (like indoor playgrounds, museums, science centers) were not in the cards right now, especially on my own with both kids.

So baking brownies, painting eggs, playing in the yard, and perhaps a story time at the local library would have to do! We probably won’t have time for all of those before nap time, but that’s alright. I love having multiple plans!

As a stay-at-home mom, I wear many hats, and the one above is my favorite: “program director”. Curating activities we can do together is something I am talented at, and it’s something I’m passionate about doing. What looks like fun outings is actually filling up my child’s brain with learning, socializing, and motor skill activities while her brain is developing.

I want her to be prepared for school and be a confident, secure child.

One time I asked my husband what I was the absolute best at, as a stay-at-home mom, talent-wise. He told me he loved the way I cared for our only child.

At first, for some reason, that bothered me. “Not my cooking? Or cleaning?” I thought. Why, I’m not really sure, maybe it’s some of my old prejudice towards being a stay-at-home mom in the first place that caused me to respond this way.

I never imagined myself to be a stay-at-home mom, to be honest, I wasn’t the nurturing type, but once I held my baby in my arms, that was it…I didn’t want to work anymore, especially while my kids are little.

That doesn’t mean my life is this idyllic, running through flower fields in dresses, trad-wife vision, because none of that is real. Like anything you do, some days are better than others.

Today, as I write this was an extremely stressful morning. My toddler wanted a ton of attention from me, which would have been fine except the newborn was having stomach issues (and also needing attention), and I needed to eat food, and so I was a little more short-tempered than usual.

My poor firstborn kept saying, “Sorry I made you mad outside,” and I repeatedly said to her I wasn’t mad, I was overwhelmed trying to take care of both of them (and myself), and that she did nothing wrong.

Other days, like Wednesday, were total bliss. My newborn ate and slept for 2.5-3 hours, and in between, my toddler and I played, and the day ran smoothly.

But boring? Repetitive? Definitely not how I would describe it. I would best describe it as a nurse, but with fewer people and stakes. Constantly triaging, trying to put things in order of their importance.

But as I write this, we made it through our first week with my husband back at work, and my newborn will be one month old next week! And that’s an accomplishment!

One of my mutuals on social media posted this, and I think it’s a good thing to remember:

Sometimes, as I’m trying to put away a load of laundry, load and unload the dishwasher, sweep, or do any kind of housework, it’s hard to remember this principle.

I was holding my newborn close to me recently, and I began to cry. Not out of exhaustion but out of this realization: that my kids are growing up.

That, my dear baby girl, isn’t going to be a baby forever. That my three-year-old won’t always mispronounce “Water” as “Wa wa”. That one day my little ones will be off to school, and that I love them so much, I don’t want this time we have together to end.

Obviously, being a stay-at-home mom isn’t for everyone. The hours are brutal, the stress levels, depending on your personality and how much support you have, can be extremely high.

I reached a sort of breaking point when my newborn turned two months old, and I realized I needed to prioritize my sleep a lot more in order to keep my mind in a healthy place.

You can’t fill from an empty cup. And these kids only have one mom, so I’d better take care of myself.

But lots of other jobs have extreme hours and stress. And, just like any other career choice, I don’t feel as though I “lost” who I am.

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I will always be a mom, and that will never change. But the choice to stay at home with my kids doesn’t define me. I’m still just as ambitious, curious, and hard-working as I was when I first entered the workforce for pay.

I didn’t lose myself. I simply found a new place to channel my talents.

I find the work meaningful. Every day, I see my toddler’s behavior get a little better, and she conquers new things I taught her. Little by little, she’s getting prepared for the next step, school.

I’m proud of what my husband and I have accomplished working as a team together. And I look forward to watching our newest addition grow.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

Me: Whoa! Let’s not rush into this. What is it about your ethnic background, sexuality, or cognitive or physical disabilities that makes you think you’re qualified to cut my hair?

Barber: Uh, I’m sorry, what?

Me: You think just because I wander into your “Barber Shop” I’m just going to let you start cutting my hair?

Barber (looking around, confused): Is this a joke?

Me: This is the exact opposite of a joke. This is life and death! Why don’t you start by telling me why you think you’re the best person to cut my hair?

Barber: Because I’ve been cutting hair for 20 years?

Me: There you go, focusing on qualifications, using the violence of merit to perpetuate conditions that benefit whiteness.

Barber: But you’re a white man.

Me: You’re right to call me on that. I need to check my privilege.

Barber: And I’m Persian.

Me: Good! That’s a good start. That gets you the “Middle Eastern / North African” category. Go on.

Barber: The what category? Sorry, I’m confused. Go on where?

Me: Tell me what else makes you the best person to cut my hair.

Barber: My being Persian makes me the best person to cut your hair?

Me: It’s a start. I like to live my values, and my values mirror those of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS).

Barber (looking around bewildered)

Me: As you know, AMPAS is at the forefront of representation and inclusion, and if their rules are good enough for picking the Best Picture, they’re good enough to guide me in picking the best, no matter what it is I need. Including picking the Best Barber.

Sure, it can be challenging at times, but no matter how hard it is, I’m committed to promoting representation and inclusion in everything I do. Do you have any idea how hard it was to find a black lesbian mechanic in a wheelchair willing to fix my car?

Barber: You did that?

Me: Not yet. I’m still looking. It doesn’t help that all the local garages seem to be oppressive patriarchal structures that normalize the subordination of women. No matter, I’m committed to using public transport until I find a person in an underrepresented group who claims they can fix my car. How else can I be sure they’re the best mechanic?

Barber: Well –

Me: It was a rhetorical question. So, being Persian gets you the “racial or ethnic group” qualification, but as you’re clearly a man, I’m afraid that you miss out on the women qualification... wait, I didn’t just misgender you by mistake, did I? (hitting self in head repeatedly) Stupid, stupid! When are you going to stop assuming someone is a man just because you see a beard? I apologize for assuming your gender.

Barber: Uhm... it’s ok?

Me: Phew. Thanks. Anyway, before I let you cut my hair, I’m going to need you to prove you belong to a second underrepresented group. You don’t happen to be LGBTQ+, do you?

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Barber: I have a wife of 20 years.

Me: Disappointing. That means we’re down to “cognitive or physical disabilities” or “deaf or hard of hearing” qualifications. You seem to be hearing me well enough. You don’t happen to have a wooden leg or ADHD, or something, do you?

Barber (shakes head)

Me: Irritable bowel syndrome? Tennis elbow? Chronically late for appointments? Honestly, I’m pretty desperate for a haircut, so I’ll take anything.

Barber: Sorry, I’m just a normal guy.

Me (gasping): “Normal?!” How dare you use a socially constructed concept to judge, exclude, and marginalize individuals or groups who do not conform to a dominant standard! (stands up and throws barber cape onto chair). You sir – or madam (raising eyebrow hopefully. Barber shakes head “no”) – you sir are a disgrace to the barber profession.

(storms out).

Barber (to self): Why a bald guy needs a barber is beyond me.

Note: “The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences representation and inclusion standards for Oscars® eligibility in the Best Picture category are designed to encourage equitable representation on and off screen to better reflect the diverse global population.” Please support them by living their values in your day-to-day lives.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia, where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

Full disclosure: he still has most of his hair.

As you may have picked up from this article he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

9/11 was an attack, but also an assassination. The assassination of a dream—awakened, now, a generation’s assumptions blasted away on live television. That was 25 years ago. Hardly would make sense to a thinking person—it was that long ago.

The years are blending in and bleeding onto one another. And then there is the claim that nothing has happened in the past 20 years. American culture has frozen. Every contribution reaches into the bucket of the past, vying for a reminder of what once was. About this claim, I am not entirely sure, but one instantly gets the sentiment—there is truth in it, let us say.

America is in the thick of its own discomfort, its own growing pains. American culture has not disappeared, but has rather calcified, crystallized itself into something utterly recognizable—we see the same films, hear the same songs ad nauseam. We crave the past; we wish to crawl back into it. The future is plagued with more pain, the light at the end of the tunnel is obscured, and the pathways forward are not clear.

The structures that we once felt safe relying upon have been shattered. And I mean this beyond the reliable, nameable structures of daily life, daily survival. This is not only a matter of forms to fill out, government programs, healthcare, etc. This sentiment has lodged itself into the hearts of many Americans. It is spiritual, existential, I will put it. It cannot be named totally, only described, only observed.

When I hear of America’s destruction—somebody will call it—has America as we know it been destroyed? Is the path towards its own destruction inevitable? Has it already been set in motion? Is this so-called destruction at the hands of a particular political party? A particular persuasion, or president? America, if it is said to be destroyed or its destruction imminent, can only be destroyed from within. Whoever the culprit is, we look to the citizens of a nation, that is to say, ourselves.

America cannot be destroyed in the way we think about destruction, and if it were, it has the potential to be resurrected, rejuvenated, revitalized. None of this will come from war, not from political solutions. I have the idea that America is seeing itself through another stage, another evolution, another writhing through the growing pains of its infancy.

Throughout the entirety of its short history, all roads have led the country to this day, this current state of affairs. The people of the United States can be rightly accused of sleepwalking—where comfort rules the day to day, and that state of half-consciousness has caused much to slip away from notice, from accountability, from investment. But I am no patriot; I never much jived with that word. I hear it, and I become claustrophobic...

Just the other day, I was asked how living back in America has been after those years being away.

“Especially now,” he said, referring to the general lowly state of affairs. But I hadn’t asked myself, not totally. Not enough to give myself a real answer. But if anything, living far away for so long allowed me to recognize the things about America I love. And there are many things about Americans that I love.

Still, amid numerous scandals and problems, and after being away from America for years, my return to my country is filled with a sense of optimism. With all the talk of money and price, America is still the economic envy of the world. Still, there are opportunities beyond what the average American can fathom, especially when compared to most of the world, and the relative difficulty one may find climbing up any social or economic ladder. In America, furniture is everywhere. We hardly notice it. People are giving furniture away...

The decline in American morale, where there is a collective feeling of anxiety, pessimism, and even rage about the country’s future, is something of an inevitability. I see it. America’s life cycle would be too incomplete not to have gone through those clumsy teenage years of angst and turmoil about its future. America and Americans will not be an evolved society until it faces a kind of imminent collapse, where its complete destruction seems every bit as real as it does likely.

Generations have been broken before in America—Slavery. The Great Depression. The World Wars. Assassinations. These events are relatively recent, but are at once near us and ancient history. With all the shiny new artifacts of our future—the internet, Artificial Intelligence, cars that drive themselves, online shopping, none can be said to save us from an existential malaise.

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America feels, in many ways, ready to burst, or break, or sink or swim. It feels like on the brink—I just cannot say what on the brink of. But perhaps this is its nature—to feel as though it has always been testing its own elasticity to chaos. America, it seems, must come up against the inevitable—to be tested and tried through terms like fascism, oligarchy, nepotism, nationalism, authoritarianism, terrorism, capitalism (use prefix of your choice), and depression. Not so much the economic depression here, but a spiritual depression. I use the term spiritual not to refer to god, or any gods, but to describe the nature of the problem best I can.

America, as a nation, has a shadow self. A self built largely on memorabilia, trinkets of the past, sacred stories, and assumptions about the future. But it takes only a single individual to hold up an honest mirror, to reveal an honest reflection. We may put our anger and rage into the mirror holder, but it is the reflection that has to be confronted first.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

I could have sworn I’d written about Canada’s “desire” for high-speed rail some time ago, but I can’t find it. Well, the project is back in the news so that’s what I’m going to write about. Possibly again.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you should already know two things about me: 1) I hate Justin Trudeau, and 2) I am not loyal to any party. Knowing these two things should make the following statement less shocking:

I’m on the fence with respect to Prime Minister Carney. On one hand, he’s intelligent, accomplished, and says a lot of things that sound good.

On the other hand, while Trudeau is gone, most of the occupants of the clown car that is the Liberal party are still there. Oh, and Carney is a politician, so everything he’s promising could be just another lie or an effort to fill the pockets of politicians, bureaucrats, and their friends and families.

Still, I’m on the fence because if my standard was an honest politician, I’d never vote; I’d just sit in my office all day and mumble to myself. And I already do too much of that.

That said, there are limits to how much lying and corruption I’m willing to ignore. Waste and incompetence bug me a little too.

So, when the government proposed to build a high-speed rail (HSR) system from Quebec City to Toronto, passing through major cities including Laval, Montreal, Ottawa, and Peterborough, it got my spidey senses tingling.

As with any project, there are many pros and cons.

Let’s start with the pros:

1. There are a lot of Canadians in that area.

That’s it.

There are also many roads and highways that could be expanded instead of building an HSR system. However, I don’t think building one in this area is a terrible idea. It would be much faster than driving, accessible to people without cars, and create jobs (allegedly).

There’s one big problem with the idea, though, its government funded, and they want $90 billion dollars.

“A billion here, a billion there, and pretty soon you’re talking about real money.”
- Everett Dirksen

Choo choo enthusiasts make “concrete” arguments like “Canada is the only G7 country without high-speed rail” as if train-envy is justification for spending billions of dollars.

The government, on the other hand, will provide more detailed and rational arguments for proceeding, but they will be based on analysis designed to make the project look good. The process goes something like this:

1. Government asks a train company to do a cost-benefit analysis.

2. Company lies to government about costs and timeline.

3. Government winks at company then lies to the voters.

4. Several months of propaganda follow.

5. Government signs deal with train company.

6. Politicians, bureaucrats, and their friends and family get rich.

7. Delays

8. Cost overruns.

9. Politicians, bureaucrats, and their friends and family get richer.

10. Delays

11. Cost overruns.

12. Politicians, bureaucrats, and their friends and family get richer.

13. Most of us die before we see anything built.

Sarcasm aside, I come to this healthy level of skepticism by paying attention. Something the government relies on voters not to do.

Pass.

Correction, hard pass.

Here’s what paying attention reveals about Canadian government transportation projects:

• Eglinton Crosstown LRT – NDP MPP Joel Harden called it a “three-year late, billion-dollar, over-budget boondoggle.” When the NDP thinks something is a waste of taxpayer money, you know it’s a problem.

• Ottawa’s light-rail transit system – The project’s capital budget has risen from $4.66 billion to $4.91B as construction is behind schedule. The full extent of the fiasco is outlined here (well, at least through January 2022), but let’s just say there’s a history of delays, cost overruns, sinkholes, lawsuits, and malfunctions. It appears that those running the project also failed to take into account that it snows in winter. Sigh.

In case you think it’s strictly an issue with the incompetence of Canadian governments or transportation projects:

• The government Phoenix project, aimed at modernizing the federal government’s payroll system, was estimated to cost $310 million. It is now estimated to have cost $5 billion. Oopsie!

• In the UK, the HS2 High-Speed Rail Project, initially estimated to cost £32 billion, is now expected to cost £100 billion due to major delays, management inefficiencies, and budget mismanagement.

• And lest we leave out the US, the California High-Speed Rail project, also known as the “bullet train,” was initially approved by voters in 2008. The goal was to connect Los Angeles to San Francisco. The original budget for the entire system was estimated at around $40 billion, and the initial completion date was targeted for 2020. The project has faced numerous delays and cost overruns, and the most recent cost estimate for Phase 1 (just phase 1!!!) has ballooned to $126 billion. This is more than triple the original budget. The initial operating segment, a 171-mile section from Merced to Bakersfield, is now expected to be completed mid- to late-2030s, possibly ~2040.

The California project is perhaps the most relevant to this discussion, as California and Canada have similar populations (around 40 million people) although California’s GDP is higher ($4.048 trillion USD vs. $2.2 trillion – thank you, Justin Trudeau!). Why anyone would believe that it will cost Californian taxpayers $126 billion USD to link two cities 171 miles apart, but the Canadian government can link 6 cities over 500 miles for” just” $90 billion CND ($65.1 billion USD), is beyond me.

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My advice to taxpayers? Expect the initial cost, once approved, to be significantly higher. Then double or triple the estimate. Consider yourself lucky if that’s the final cost.

My guess is $1 Trillion before it’s done.

In the immortal words of Happy Gilmore, “the price is wrong, bitch!”

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article, he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

So much so, I began to feel sorry for those who had not found it. Not because they had not found love in their life, but because of how rancid and toxic the current landscape of dating truly is. The muck that these poor single people must wade through...

I believe from a generational standpoint, many, many would be hard-pressed to disagree. The ways we seek love, the ways in which we find true connection, true loyalty, seem to be fraught with many obstacles; cultural divides cut across random hearts with the slice of a hot blade; politics divide, certainly.

Men and women are more skeptical of each other. Marriage and children have certainly lost their appeal as well. Monogamy, now, is not a given—but must be a conversation. Where the one partner model may have been taken for granted, as obvious, is now another divide—no, I don’t want a partner to share with another, one must say outrightly, at the risk of sounding selfish or prude.

It is not one thing or the other, but a modernized world that pokes at our insecurities, reveals a mirror to our flaws, broadcasts the highlights of other’s lives, from the financial to the romantic, for us to compare, to cringe, to congratulate, or to turn green with envy. No doubt, the online world is largely responsible. But we have also been irresponsible. We have allowed the techno-gadgets to rule us, in many facets of our lives.

Back to the muck I mentioned earlier—the muck of effort, the wading through the many waters of disappointment, false starts, the newly minted term of ghosting—not exactly new in human history, but common enough now, to be a named phenomenon, and indelibly connected to the landscape of romantic entanglement.

The date that was confirmed did not show. The date that seemed interested, made plans, a date and a time, a place to be, only leaving you to be all dressed up with nowhere to go. Now, to start swiping left or right, to try again—and to go through all the same rigamarole with another stranger, having to, needing to, explain yourself again from the very start, with the hopes that this time, they will at least show up when they said they would.

Yes, I was lucky to avoid this for as long as I could. But after the collapse of five years of marriage, I find myself doing all that I said I would never have to do again. I am “on the apps”—swiping away, looking for connection, and looking for love to share.

And this recent introduction into that world has left me drained, daunted, and somewhat horrified. The ease with which others make plans is equal to the ease with which they are therefore dismissed. Human connection is everywhere and nowhere. We dismiss each other as nothing—you can always window shop another partner online.

With each new profile picture, with each new summary, comes a daydream. Everybody is looking for love, everyone appears open, everyone is smiling, everyone appears to be a part of the same daydream. Swipe left, the daydream bursts, swipe right, and the daydream of this person lingers—just long enough to visit the next smile, the next mirage, the next daydream to keep you swiping.

And inside this daydream of online love and dating apps, is a labyrinth of tools to keep you swiping, keep you entertained, keep you coming back. And if you really want to find love online, don’t expect it for free.

Among this labyrinth, I mention is a bevvy of coins, tickets, upgrades, virtual roses to send, and super likes to pay for. The apps are not shy. You want top billing? Pay us. You want your messages actually sent, pay us. The algorithms are geared so much towards profit, it makes you wonder if they wouldn’t purposefully sabotage any attempt at finding a viable partner for the sake of keeping you around.

For context, I begrudgingly downloaded a dating app. And then another. These are well-known apps, and I am sure you have likely heard of them. I dutifully filled out the minutiae and put my best pictures up for consideration. I am open to many a rendezvous—a casual stroll through the park, a beer at a bar, even a more formal date. You cannot ask for much, just the opportunity to talk to someone new.

I have been on these apps for four months—not a single match. Not one. I swipe, I send casual messages, I smile in my photos, I have passion, etc, etc. But I have not paid. And the algorithmic consequences for that are loud and clear.

On the second app, I have actually seen some traction. Apparently, some women are somewhat interested, enough to swipe right on me, and enough to match. But after filling out the profile, dutifully reading what potential partners have to say about themselves, and putting yourself out there, you are hit wth a bill—yes, the app is marketed as free, but the connection requires a credit card.

The faces of my matches are blurred; to see them, in this app I mention, costs $24.99 for the week, $ 48.99 for the month, $315 for the year, or, if you are feeling truly down and out, $479 for a lifetime of use. I find that to be a hard sell—why would I pay for a lifetime supply of an app, I hope to delete for love?

This fee is not levied up front, but expressed purposefully in the thick of pursuit—in the thick of finding out who your matches are, precisely when a lonely heart is at its most vulnerable, and that promise of finding your soulmate (their words, not mine), is just a credit card number away.

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I now find myself in that same position that I once considered unthinkable, unenviable, impossible. It feels pathetic. It feels desperate. It feels cheap because it is.

This model is unsustainable, and we would likely be better off without the promises, the coins, the upgrades, the subscriptions when seeking something that is so much more than those things.

This is nothing but predatory behavior on the part of those who so openly and casually promise love, and we should reject it.

I am all in for love, but I want to swipe left on the whole goddamn enterprise. Where connection requires a credit card, I will be on the other side of that.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

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Oh ya, he was arguably the world’s wrongest man.

You see Ehrlich also wrote the bestseller The Population Bomb (1968) which predicted worldwide famines due to overpopulation, as well as other major societal upheavals. Here is one example of his foresight:

“The battle to feed all of humanity is over. In the 1970s and 1980s hundreds of millions of people will starve to death in spite of any crash programs embarked upon now.”

His ability to be wrong was not limited to his bestseller as he proved in a speech in 1971: “If I were a gambler, I would take even money that England will not exist in the year 2000.” He also predicted that the U.S. would be rationing water by 1974, and food by 1980, that smog in L.A. and New York would cause some 200,000 deaths per year and that Americans born after World War II wouldn’t live past 50.

Oopsie. There’s no harm in being wrong though, right?

Except Ehrlich’s predictions helped usher in the “Zero Population Growth” movement in the U.S which contributed to a significant decline in the U.S. fertility rate from 3.4 in the early 1960s to 1.8 by 1975. It has also been accused of leading to millions of sterilizations in China, India, Mexico, Bolivia, Peru, Indonesia, Bangladesh, and elsewhere.

So, in a way, you can thank Ehrlich for all the “we need illegal immigrants” argument. Fortunately for us, no less than the “Old Gray Lady” stepped up to set the record straight.

Wait, what? “Premature?” I don’t think that’s a synonym for “wrong,” is it? Where have I heard this sort of apologetic, fawning type of excuse for being wrong before? Oh ya, here is Marxist historian Isaac Deutscher commenting on Trotsky being wrong about... well, everything: “Proof of Trotsky’s farsightedness is that none of his predictions have come true yet.”

Wow! He saw so far into the future that not enough time has passed for any of his predictions to come true yet. Bravo! Chef’s kiss.

“Premature” is the word environmentalists use for “wrong” because the latter word is so... final.

“Premature” allows environmentalists to remain hopeful that eventually “hundreds of millions of people will starve to death.” Keep the dream alive, comrades! Sadly, Ehrlich will not be around to say, “I told you so.” Neither will any of us, for that matter, because he’s wrong. However, his death does leave us with a big hole to fill. Specifically...

Who is the new World’s Wrongest Person?

I have a few nominations:

• Al Gore, who claimed:

  • By 2016 “there will be no more snows of Kilimanjaro.”

  • In 2007 he stated that the North Polar ice cap “could be completely gone during summer in less than 22 years. Another new study… warns it could happen in as little as 7 years.

  • December 2009 Copenhagen speech: “Some of the models suggest… there is a 75% chance that the entire north polar ice cap, during some of the summer months, could be completely ice-free within the next five to seven years.”

• Greta Thunberg has claimed:

  • On June 21, 2018, Thunberg tweeted: “A top climate scientist is warning that climate change will wipe out all of humanity unless we stop using fossil fuels over the next five years.”

Let’s not limit this to environmentalists:

• Paul Krugman (Nobel Prize winning economist):

  • Wrote that by around 2005, the internet’s impact on the economy would be no greater than the fax machine.

  • On election night in 2016, he suggested markets might never recover from a Trump victory.

• Donald Trump:

  • “I will build a great, great wall on our southern border and I will have Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words.”

  • “Over the next couple of years, I think we’ll … be cutting income tax — could be almost completely cutting it, because the money we’re taking in is going to be so large… It’s so enormous that you’re not going to have income tax to pay.”

  • “Jobs and factories will come roaring back into our country, and you see it happening already.

  • Note: Ya, ya, I just pissed off all the Trumpites. Deal with it.

I think that there is a very good chance that the AI doomers and AI utopians are making predictions so wrong that they may will make Ehrlich’s mistakes look minor. Sadly, we will have to wait a few years to see if they or I am correct. I’m pulling for the utopians.

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Some will argue that I should include Anthony Fauci on this list because he was wrong about COVID in so many ways. However, he wasn’t terrible at predictions so much as lying to cover up his involvement in what was obviously a lab leak.

Note: I’m not opposed to awarding this to an organization, so The Club of Rome, for example might be in the running for the title.

Who do you think deserves Ehrlich’s title? Make your nominations in the comments below.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

As the train glides down its narrow tracks, just inches from the coast, the sunset, the ocean, the expanse of land and sea brim with a natural, diamond-like sheen. The ocean reflects glimmering light, as though the rays were sourced from just below its surface, percolating and dancing in vivid synchronization. The entirety of Big Sur and the California coast cannot be seen, but felt—the window of the train car is massive, and even the roof of the car is tiled in glass—look up, and you see the clear blue sky, while the faintest of clouds drift lazily in and out of your view.

I know how I sound—a bit romantic, a bit tender in the description of what could be almost any train ride, going to and from almost anywhere near water. But to romanticize the occasion, to find solace and poetry in the journey before me, is precisely the point.

The interior of the car, that is, the Amtrak Coastal Starlight, which runs North/South from Seattle all the way down to Los Angeles, is not romantic. It has the appeal of a very nice jail cell. The silver doors that connect each of the cars at both ends creak and crack when they move, and slam shut with the permanence of prison bars. Like prison bars, at some point, I am told, you do get used to the clang.

Also, everywhere in the car, there is metal—metal floors, metal seats, the predictable high-pitched squeal of metal slicing and scraping as the undercarriage trudges along its pathway. The bathrooms, too, are all metal, and the toilet is stainless steel—even in the bathroom, the anonymous, efficient style of the prison cell could double as the motif. Everything is old. Everything is cruddy, rickety, loud, and vibrating. But within this unavoidable ruckus, these hard edges, there is a noticeable calm.

It is just past sunset on the Coastal Starlight’s journey. The lights have been slightly dimmed in the car, and has per habit, I have no intention on returning to my assigned seat—some veterans of the Amtrak system like me prefer to spend the entire trip at the restaurant style booths of the viewing car. The viewing car is a communal area, with large open windows and where people come to sit and to gather, have a snack, and take in the beauty of the American landscape.

But if you were me, you plant yourself in the booth, with scattered papers and notepads all strewn about. Too, there are remnants of cocktails and snacks that I have hardly finished, empty cups, wrappers, etc. To indulge the prison motif once again, I would appear as an inmate who seemed to be here long before anyone else, and whose journey will continue long after you have arrived at your destination. And it’s probably true, as my journey began in Los Angeles, and will not end until Portland, Oregon—a 29-hour train ride. Fine by me, as I just so happen to have a lot on my mind. But on every journey I have ever taken by train, I find this to be the case.

For the length of any journey, there is that calm I mentioned. The train glides cooly through the air—speeds up a bit at times, it seems, slows down in more dense, crowded areas. The rattling of the cars is not as intrusive as it may seem at first; in fact, the constant hum and rattle can provide a cushion to dampen even the most jittery of nerves, the thoughts with the sharpest edges. This does not prevent rumination, but allows for it.

Most of the debacles of my life involve a sudden, intense exit. When the carpet is ripped out from beneath me, I usually find myself on a train. Outbound from San Francisco, Portland, Los Angeles, and Folsom, I have racked up dozens of these journeys. And every trip, there is an exit and a return—a return to the self, to the quiet, to the ever-changing landscape that drifts by each window pane. Within every window pane, an exit, every window pane, an entry.

To take to the land and sea by train is not only a cause for celebration, but a reacquaintance with the self—a new self, an evolving self—a self that is shedding its skin right there in the viewing cart. In the chaos of our lives, and the general madness of these ever-passing years, we owe it to ourselves to seek out moments of solace, of rumination, for our own therapeutic need, our own respite from the day to day. Day to day—those days we refer to that are often so lost, they cease to distinguish themselves from one another.

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Indistinguishable too, is each hour of the ride. The hours melt into one another; the morning into the afternoon, the evening into the night, etc. With this evolution, the destination closer, epiphanies, dialogues, regrets, tenderness, and even anger are churned and mashed and inspected over.

When the thoughts are heavy and too much, you become grateful for the view. When you reach an epiphany about your current plight or curiosity, it is followed by either laughter or sobbing—the kind of sobbing that one attempts to fight, with no use, when in public. These revelations are done within the beauty and magnificence of the American landscape. The land cradles you in this way, provides a space to absorb any steam, any bubbling frustration.

The modern train ride through America is not the industry it once was—but it is an important one, at least to me.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

I live in a high-rise, and I work from home. I’ll be honest with you; there are days when I don’t get out of my pajamas until my noon workout. And why not? I’m not going anywhere. What’s the harm?

On occasion, I’ve even considered taking the trash down to the basement in my PJs. But I don’t. Why? Two reasons: I’m not that lazy, and I have some self-respect.

If you’ve ever been... well outside, you’ll know that this view is not universal. At some point, I don’t know when, people, mostly women as far as I can tell, decided that wearing pajamas outside was acceptable. Not a quick run outside to get the mail either, we’re talking about going to the store and, God help us, getting on an airplane.

This trend once again came to my attention with this tweet.

The discussion that followed was absurd.

Caption: Pajamas are meant for warehouse activities? Is OSHA aware of this?

Caption: Now wearing pajamas in public is a political statement?

I do not wish to turn this into a political debate, so I will resist the temptation to ask, “is there any type of bad behavior that the Left won’t defend?”

Caption: Why are you asking me?

I’ll stop yelling at clouds when they start acting their age... uh... or something like that.

Instead of talking about how dressing well is a sign of fascism – but what isn’t? – I’ll turn to the comment that I think encapsulates the issue:

If it isn’t shameful to wear pajamas outside, how can taking a picture of people doing this be worthy of criticism?

The answer is, because deep down, even people defending the practice know that it’s worthy of scorn. The only acceptable reason for wearing pajamas outside is that you’re a child going to a drive-in movie – yes, I’m that old - or your house is on fire.

Which brings us to my point – yes, it took a while to get here. I hope you enjoyed the journey – social norms matter and shame is a useful tool for enforcing them.

If you post a picture of me sitting on a bench reading a book, I’m going to wonder why you don’t have something better to do.

If you post a picture of me at a store while I’m wearing pajamas, I’m going to be embarrassed. Or at least I should. Which is why...

Shame is good.

Or at least it serves a useful purpose.

Somewhere in all the “don’t fat-shame me” rhetoric and efforts to “destigmatize” drug use, “sex work,” polyamory, and pornography, we’ve lost sight of that.

Tolerance is good. To a point. We must remember that what you tolerate, you perpetuate.

The concept of “the slippery slope,” while much derided, is obvious to anyone who’s been alive longer than 10 minutes.

The world won’t end because some people don’t know how to dress like adults. However, there’s a reason that we find ourselves here, and there’s no reason to think it won’t get worse if we permit it.

There is some indication that people are getting fed up with people who don’t understand the concept of public spaces and the type of behavior that isn’t permitted.

Recently, United Airlines stated that it plans to boot passengers who refuse to use headphones on planes. It’s a good first step, but we need to do more.

“See something, say something.”

“See something, say something” was meant to prevent terrorism but has expanded well beyond that to include workplace safety, sexual violence, and a myriad of other activities.

Could we extend it to “bad behavior?”

Officially? Probably not. There are no fashion police to report to, and if there were, they’d probably look something like this:

No, we’re better off handling this ourselves. What I’m proposing is more old school. Dirty looks and scorn. Let’s bring back shame. And ridicule.

Keep posting those pictures online. If we embarrass the guilty parties enough, maybe they’ll decide that the 30 seconds they save by avoiding adult clothes isn’t worth it.

Be careful, though. The last thing you want is to be filmed getting in a fight with someone wearing pajamas at Costco.

After all, how would that look?

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Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia, where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article, he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here

If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article. Your attention, participation, and support really make a difference to us.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

Trump stated, This afternoon, I want to discuss how we have achieved this economic miracle, how we intend to raise living standards for our citizens to levels never seen before, and perhaps how you, too, in the places where you come from, can do much better following what we’re doing. Because certain areas in Europe are not even recognizable, frankly, anymore — not in a positive way. I love Europe, and I want to see it succeed, but it’s not heading in the right direction.

In recent decades, the conventional wisdom was that growing Western economies required increasing government spending, unchecked mass migration, and endless imports. The consensus was that so-called dirty jobs should be sent elsewhere, the Green New Scam should replace affordable energy, and countries could be propped up by importing new populations from faraway lands.

Trump’s speech followed that of the Prime Minister of Canada, Mark Carney, who urged the “Middle Powers” to unite and take on the major powers. He asserted that the middle powers had been naive, thinking that as long as they were compliant with the US, all would be well. But now, the major powers have discarded fairness and are exploiting power for their own benefit.

He stated, “It seems that every day we’re reminded that we live in an era of great-power rivalry — that the rules-based international order is fading, that ‘the strong do what they can, and the weak must suffer what they must.”

Carney refuses to recognize Trump’s main point, that the “rules-based order” is fading because it has corrupted itself. Trump, in using the term “certain areas of Europe are not recognizable,” describes the neoliberal/globalist failure of the continent. Carney and his cronies from the EU have created a right/wrong scenario based on their definition of right. Anyone who opposes neoliberalism is dangerous and must be stopped.

The traditional West has been transforming Europe since the fall of the Soviet Union and the formation of the EU. But the EU has not lived up to its billing and has become a bloated bureaucracy that stands in the way of its member states’ decision-making. Rules for all have subverted the operations of each member. Britain and France, as two prime examples, can’t go back. Each has a single global metroplex that acts as its international source of money and power.

The neoliberals who operate there are embedded in the international elite club, which pursues the ideal of global government. The “new elites” have replaced the old bourgeoisie. They define themselves by education, mobility, and cultural openness rather than property or industry. They dominate media, politics, universities, and NGOs, shaping norms and policy. Meanwhile, citizens who do not live in London or Paris are not given the same opportunities. The upper classes call for equality, but their own citizens are being ignored.

Immigration policy and multicultural discourse are managed at the city level, but the social and economic strains are often felt more intensely in peripheral areas with fewer resources. Urban professionals have replaced the traditional working-class base of left-wing parties. The left now represents the cultural values of cities rather than workers’ material interests. Peripheral citizens still vote, but they no longer feel represented. This produces distrust of institutions and rising support for outsider movements.

Populism is a rational response to government failure, as seen in movements like the Gilets Jaunes (Yellow Vests) and Brexit, and in predictable reactions from people who feel abandoned by a system run for metropolitan interests. Unfortunately for Europe, there is no populist political power like that exercised by Trump.

Its populist parties operate from the right because the left controls the neoliberal juggernaut. The establishment attacks those parties as being authoritarian and dangerous. In other words, “Don’t let them acquire power, or it’s Hitler time again.” In Germany, the populist wave is being driven by the AfD (Alternative für Deutschland, or Alternative for Germany). The globalists in Germany attribute its rise in popularity to the ignorance in the former East Germany (where it was founded) and Russian disinformation. The AfD has been labeled as an extremist party by the government, which means its activities are being closely monitored.

Other European countries have populist movements.

In France, the National Rally (Rassemblement National) is a nationalist, anti‑immigration, and Eurosceptic (opposed to the EU) party. La France Insoumise is a left‑wing populist party focused on economic reform and anti‑neoliberalism.

In Italy, the Brothers of Italy & Lega is nationalist, security‑focused, and skeptical of EU policy: Italexit advocates for leaving the EU and eurozone.

In the Netherlands, the Party for Freedom (PVV) is a Nationalist, anti-immigration, and Eurosceptic party.

In Spain, Vox is nationalist, anti‑immigration, and culturally conservative.

In the United Kingdom, Reform UK is nationalist, anti‑elite, and immigration‑focused.

In Canada, there is growing dissatisfaction over issues specific to that country. These include regional grievances (West vs. Ottawa), policy and bureaucratic matters, and economic/material complaints. Alberta is about to hold a referendum on separating from Canada. As of now, they are collecting signatures to put the referendum on this year’s ballot.

Given the tide they’re fighting against, the right-wing parties in Europe do not have, and may never have, the power to effect change. Part of their problem is their form of government. Some political theorists tout the parliamentary system because it is used in Europe, and they consider it superior.

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They argue that there is no separation between the executive and the legislature, which means less gridlock. In a parliamentary system, the executive (the Prime Minister and cabinet) is drawn from the legislature. The government only exists as long as it has majority support in parliament. If it loses support, it falls and is replaced.

Those systems are incompatible with populist movements. Since the executive in a parliamentary system is drawn from the legislature, the prime minister is part of the establishment rather than an outsider. There will never be a populist prime minister because the parties would never allow it.

The American system allows a populist to be elected directly by the people. That has enabled us to reject the neoliberal/globalist ideology that is destroying Europe.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

Humans will continue to imbibe, whatever the state of their affairs, whatever their plight or joy, victory or defeat. Keeping that in mind, here are a few reminders to keep in mind when drinking. The list is a practical guide and is by no means exhaustive. If you care to add one in the comments, for the sake of the readers, please do. These notes come from almost two decades behind the bar as a bartender and a drinker myself.

Quality Over Quantity

Within the world of booze, there is many a hierarchy. And while bad products can be dressed up as good, and expensive products may not be what they claim, a notion I would ask a drinker to consider is to evaluate the quality of alcohol they are drinking.

Cheap liquor can often contain ingredients that are used to mimic flavor, added suagrs, etc., which can lead to worse hangovers. But they can also contribute to a cavalier attitude to consumption. When we drink cheaply, we disregard the dangers of alcohol, and often drink too much of it, with no financial reminder. A drinker may go through many glasses of the cheap stuff without thinking about it. Whereas if they were paying for the good stuff, they may think twice about that second or third round. If you drink something you respect and can therefore savor, you may end up drinking less and being more responsible about your consumption.

Your Plan To Stop In For A Quick One

The old adage a cold one, or stopping in for a quick one is flung with noticeable ease, but is often betrayed by those very same legs stumbling in the moonlight, hiccuping like a stoned hyena. The first alcoholic beverage often destroys enough inhibition and discipline to shatter any resistance to a second. And then the second gives to the third, and so on. We often tell ourselves we will only have one, but this is a lie. Better to be honest about your intentions with yourself, or commit yourself to a night of abstinence.

Alcohol May Crystallize Your Emotions, Not Liberate You From Them

We often drink to avoid our individual plight, and on many occasions, this self-defense is rewarded by ease of laughter, comorodary and flirtation. However, this solution is temporary, and is not foolproof, even in the immediate. It is the drinker’s job to know when the blues he suffers from are light and can be drowned out by social distraction, and when the stress is too heavy, and is engaging in suffer-drinking. That is, drinking designed to intensify those feelings of anguish. This instinct may be counterintuitive, as it is betraying; however, it can be articulated, recognized, and therefore defended against.

Alcohol Free Days And Breaks

To drink at all, the drinker must also do a good bit of not drinking. It is crucial for the liver to recover, the brain and body to rest, and to clear the fog. No matter how little you consume, dedicating certain days and evenings to not drinking provides a good buffer for preventing overconsumption.

Limit Your Decisions

In a perfect world, no one would show up at any gathering with things to do the next day, possess a clear mind, and have no worries about themselves. Unfortunately, this is not the case, and its corollary is often the reason for drinking to begin with. Still, even with that knowledge, it is up to the drinker to be at ease with the world and the immediate environment around them, and not be under the pressure of any immediate decision-making. It is best, before any drinking session, to limit your responsibilities to one: to be driven home and enter bed safely.

Drink Water

For every cocktail, simply drink a glass of water. It is the simplest thing you can do to fill your belly, take a break from the alcohol, and take inventory of where you are in your current drinking session. Oftentimes, drinkers will need something in their hand so as to not feel naked at the gathering. Ordering a glass of water solves both of the issues; One, a grave mistake when overdone, the second, a mild nuisance. Soda water and lime can be a refreshing sip, so much so that you may forget it is alcohol free.

Look For Low Alcohol Alternatives

Low alcohol and even alcohol-free beverages are more common than ever. As the trend towards sobriety continues upward, more and more bars feature these offerings. They range from alcohol-free beers and liquors to mocktails made with fresh juices and tinctures. A variety of base liquors can also be substituted. An Old Fashion, for example, Amaro or a sipping vermouth can be used in place of the heavier bourbon. This may prevent overdrinking and allow one to ease into the evening at a mellower pace.

Commit Your Mistakes To Memory

If one chooses to imbibe at all, one will likely fall into the pitfalls of alcohol overconsumption. For many, this can happen in the more clumsy teenage years of underage drinking, or can appear as the hangovers of adulthood become all too spicy and normalized. It is best to take note of these pitfalls, however personal or universal, and internalize them.

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Drink Slowly

While many of the tips here are designed to slow down the alcohol intake to the body’s manageable pace, drinking slowly in and of itself is a reliable strategy and demands its own mention. Physically taking in the alcohol slowly, in small quantities, with slightly piecred lips is the what I mean here. The drink, if respected, can be an experience. But in order to take it in fully, one must have patience, or be hit over the head all at once. Savor each sip, and you’ll enjoy your experience more thoughtfully, intentionally, and with more grace.

Keep Your Belly Full

Similar to drinking water, the drinker must line their stomach with something to soak up the booze and prevent an oversaturation of alcohol, sitting on the lining of an empty stomach. Eating a good meal will also defend against drinking hungry, aid in drinking more slowly, and prevent situations where one may be more irritable and more vulnerable to mood swings, outbursts, and negative emotions while imbibing.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

“The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that’s the way to bet.”
- Damon Ruynon

Unless it’s ice dancing, in which case, I don’t know, bet on whoever has the most glitter or successfully bribed the French judge.
- Me

Mainly, I wanted Canada to win hockey gold, and they didn’t, and that’s the way it goes sometimes.

I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.
- Ecclesiastes 9:11

TLDR: you can’t win them all.

Losing is tough. Losing to people who don’t know how to win graciously is far worse.

In retrospect, I probably should have taken a week off social media as I know most Americans know how to win graciously. Online is another world. That said, I was surprised by reactions from some people I thought had more character.

Of course, I fully expected Trump to weigh in. He has some good qualities, but class is not one of them.

There’s nothing I can do about the game. It’s in the past, and I don’t have a time machine, so I can’t change the outcome.

I do have AI, though, so I beat up George Washington.

And kicked a bald eagle.

I feel a little better now. The Times They Are A-Changin’.

Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.
- Edgar Allen Poe

That was rather a long intro to get to my point, but here it is: if you follow Poe’s advice today, you’re hopelessly gullible.

The truth is, you probably can’t believe anything you see online anymore. At least not without giving it some thought.

Shortly after Canada came back to beat the Czechs in the semi-final, this image appeared online showing the Czechs had too many men on the ice when they scored their third goal.

My first thought was, “is it AI? Could the coaches, players, announcers, and refs all have missed this?”

It turned out to be real, but my doubt brought to light an important question: how can we believe anything we see online?

The answer is, we can’t.

Up until about 5 minutes ago, the default response to a pic in the news was to assume it was real. In fact, it would never have crossed anyone’s mind to consider the alternative.

Those days are over.

We are approaching a time when nothing seen online can or should be trusted. The burden of proof will be on the poster.

Ok, some things are obviously fake. Trump did not play on Team USA.

Nor did he participate in ice dancing.

But these are ridiculous images. (Almost) No one would believe either.

The real danger is when deepfake videos show politicians saying things they’ve never said.

Don’t believe me? Just listen to what President Obama had to say on the topic.

Or an AI video of Jordan Peel pretending to be Obama as was the case.

“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.”
- Joseph Heller

Getting people to believe what they want to believe is easy. Getting them to pay attention less so. It’s the perfect recipe for government abuse.

Step 1: Identify a problem.

Step 2: “Solve” the problem by taking more power.

Does anyone really believe the government wouldn’t make the following little change?

Step 1: Create the problem.

In this case, the problem is misinformation, and the solution is speech restrictions.

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And before you start pointing fingers, this is a bipartisan issue.

• The Biden administration worked with social media platforms to curb the spread of COVID-19 “misinformation.”

• The Trump administration engaged with social media companies to address what they described as “immigration misinformation.”

As it becomes easier to create believable deep fakes, solutions to address the problem will arise. Organizations will step up to help citizens identify what is real and what isn’t. However, we’re not there yet. Where we are is a place where it is far too easy for people with a little time and less money to pull the wool over the eyes of the unwary.

Am I being paranoid?

Maybe.

However, my philosophy is to distrust the government.

Always.

With that in mind, I think a little paranoia would serve us well.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article. Your attention, participation, and support really make a difference to us.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

“A critical, independent and investigative press is the lifeblood of any democracy. It is only such a free press that can temper the appetite of any government to amass power at the expense of the citizen.”

-- Nelson Mandela

In August of 2013, Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon, bought the Washington Post for $250 million dollars. Since that time, the Post has seen its subscriber base decline from approximately 470,000 weekday to less than 100,000, resulting in losses of $177 million over 2023-2024.

As a private company, the next steps were entirely predictable; the paper announced layoffs of approximately 300 employees, or about one-third of the newsroom. The response to the layoffs was equally predictable. Journalists responded with the sense of entitlement and self-importance that we’ve all grown used to:

Emmanuel Felton (Race and Ethnicity Reporter): “This wasn’t a financial decision, it was an ideological one.”

Note: Felton’s X bio states that he is the post’s “first and last race and ethnicity reporter.” No doubt the world will suffer from this loss.

Sam Fortier (Sports Feature Writer): “I am part of the mass layoffs at the Washington Post. I am sad and angry. We all want to keep doing the work. But for now, I want to document a reality of being in journalism today.”

Note: Not to be mean, journalism? You’re in the sports department. I can get real-time sports online for free. Or – stay with me – from Substack.

Note 2: There should be a comma after “now.” It wasn’t just “reporters” who complained:

Washington Post Guild Statement: “Management has framed these decisions as unavoidable, but they are the result of choices. Choosing to cut staff instead of recommitting to the people who produce The Post’s journalism is a failure of leadership and vision.”

Marty Baron (Former Executive Editor): “This ranks among the darkest days in the history of one of the world’s greatest news organizations.”

Critics pointed out that, given Bezos’s net worth of approximately $250 billion, he could have easily covered the losses if he chose to.

Critics also reported that “at least 14 climate journalists” were among the cuts, leaving only “five writers/reporters left on its climate desk.” This raises important questions:

1. There were 19 climate journalists!?!

2. There are still 5 climate journalists!?!

3. How many climate journalists does it take to look out a window?

Karma is a bitch!

Getting laid off sucks. I know. It happened to me. Of course, that was before social media, so I couldn’t go online and complain that the company laid me off because “we can’t afford to pay you to sit around and do nothing.”

Note: that is a direct quote. In my defense, I had little to do because I’d spent the last 6 months fixing all their IT problems caused by not having had an IT person. Still, it was their money and their call. I got another job. They went out of business. Karma is a bitch.

If you’re an ex-Post reporter who’s just been laid off, complain away; unlike you, I believe you have a right to free speech. However, understand why it happened.

The landscape is changing. This isn’t 1950. Or ’60. Or even 2000. It’s 2026, and the number of people waiting by their door for the Post to report on news that happened 3 days ago is dwindling.

Adapt or die!

Of course, the Post’s problems are broader than this. The Post’s biggest problem is that it was force-feeding its readers, preaching rather than reporting: A sample of recent headlines from “one of the world’s greatest news organizations” is revealing:

• “Do transgender athletes have an edge? I sure don’t.” (April 1, 2015)

• “I’m a black climate expert. Racism derails our efforts to save the planet.” (2020)

• “COP26 panel discusses how girls are disproportionately affected by climate change” (November 2021)

• Pregnant people at much higher risk of breakthrough COVID, study shows” (March 2022)

• “Can the women’s movement be as effective without the word ‘women’?” (May 5, 2022)

• From Umoja, Kenya, to India, climate change has led to domestic violence” (January 3, 2023)

In case you think a lot has changed since 2023, here are some cutting-edge articles from this month:

• “Climate change is making the Winter Olympics harder to host” (February 2026)

You suck! Pay me!

Highlighting the absurdity of many of the stories that the Post has published over the years does not mean that it doesn’t do important work. It does, however, show that cutting some jobs won’t kill the paper.

Nor will it necessarily result in “democracy dying in the dark.” I’m pretty sure democracy can survive the loss of this:

I’m also confident that the paper will find a way to make do with “only” five climate reporters. Honestly, given the headlines, I could probably run the department from my office working part-time. Here’s my first headline:

“Are polar bears thriving despite climate change because of their problematic ‘whiteness?’”

The criticism directed at Bezos is equally absurd. While it is true that Bezos could easily absorb the losses of the Post, why would he, given that many of these “journalists” hate him. Asking him to save their jobs recalls this comic:

“Democracy dies in darkness” is meant to remind us of the importance of government transparency and the press’s role in ensuring it.

However, when the press fails to do its job, it doesn’t shine a light on events so much as parrot the government’s desired narrative and distract with irrelevancies. This is what we’ve experienced over the last decade: the media serving the government rather than the people.

If the press won’t shine a light on the government, then we need others to shine a light on the press. Organizations like AllSides, Ad Fontes Media, and Media Bias/Fact Check (MBFC) have made progress in this space.

However, sometimes shining a light is not enough. Cockroaches scatter in the light, but they always find a place to hide. Sometimes the only solution is to fumigate. That’s what Bezos just did, and he shouldn’t be criticized for it; he should be praised.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia, where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article. Your attention, participation, and support really make a difference to us.

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Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

MARGE: He’s a good boy now, and he’s getting better, and sometimes even the best sheep stray from the flock and need to be hugged extra hard.

HOMER: That’s exactly the kind of crapola that’s lousing him up.

This exchange came to mind again earlier this week when I came across this National Post article:

The main point is that “Indigenous women and girls are killed at rates six times higher than non-Indigenous women — yet the perpetrators are frequently convicted of lesser offences than those guilty in the deaths of non-Indigenous victims.”

Some related facts:

• 46% of cases where the victim was indigenous end in a finding of manslaughter versus 24% of cases involving non-indigenous victims.

• Only 25% of those accused in the deaths of Indigenous women faced charges of first-degree murder, while in cases with non-Indigenous female victims, first-degree murder charges were laid 37% of the time.

• 16% of killings or suspicious deaths of Indigenous women in the last seven years are unsolved, a rate four percentage points higher than for non-Indigenous cases.

• Indigenous people are over-represented in the Canadian justice system compared to their share of the population, as both victims and accused.

  

Conclusion…

Do you really need me to tell you?

Fine.

It’s racism.

“When you look systemically … [Indigenous women’s] lives and their health and their safety are not valued as highly.” - Michael Spratt, an Ottawa criminal defense lawyer for 20 years.

Case closed!

Move along.

Nothing to see here!

Oh, hell, let’s dig a little deeper anyway. I’m sure more data will just support the racism argument.

Thanks, “Marge”

“Ann Maje Raider, executive director of the Liard Aboriginal Women’s Society in the Yukon, says a perception of greater leniency in the justice system around the deaths of Indigenous women is making the problem worse. (Perpetrators) know they’re not going to get anything, and the reason is that the justice institution has failed us.”

Outrageous!

How could this possibly be the case?

Is there any data in the article that could shine some light on this?

• 97% of female Indigenous victims whose outcomes were known were killed by someone they knew, a rate seven percentage points higher than for non-Indigenous cases.

So what? Knowing the accused should have zero impact on sentencing, right?

Well, there is one “minor” point left out of the article entirely:

• Between 2009 and 2021, most solved homicides of Indigenous women and girls involved an accused person who was also Indigenous. About 86% of cases where there was an identified accused involved an Indigenous person as the alleged perpetrator.

Once again, you might think, “so what? It’s not like we’re letting indigenous offenders or easy, right?”

Right?

Uh… except we are.

Gladue principles are a set of sentencing guidelines in Canadian criminal law that require judges to consider the unique systemic and background circumstances of Indigenous offenders when determining an appropriate sentence. They stem directly from section 718.2(e) of the Criminal Code, which states:

all available sanctions, other than imprisonment, that are reasonable in the circumstances and consistent with the harm done to victims or to the community should be considered for all offenders, with particular attention to the circumstances of Aboriginal offenders.

This provision was added in 1996 to help address the severe over-representation of Indigenous people in Canada’s prisons—a problem the Supreme Court has repeatedly described as a crisis resulting from colonialism, systemic discrimination, and intergenerational trauma.

This also explains why:

• Of the accused in Indigenous cases whose previous history was available to reporters, 94% had red flags in their past, such as arrests and convictions, contact with child services, or significant mental health issues.

Perpetrators of the murders of indigenous women are getting lighter sentences because most of them are indigenous. Before you say “wait, this certainly can’t apply to violent crimes,” it does:

In R. v. Ipeelee (2012), the Supreme Court reaffirmed and strengthened the Gladue principles, addressing inconsistent or limited application in lower courts. Important points include:

• Gladue analysis must be applied in every case involving an Indigenous offender—no exceptions for serious or violent crimes.

• There is no requirement to prove a direct causal link (nexus) between the offender’s background factors and the specific offence; the connection is often complex and systemic.

• Judges play a front-line role in addressing Indigenous over-incarceration.

In short, Canada is giving lighter sentences to indigenous criminals because of “systematic racism.” Since at least 86% of homicides of Indigenous women and girls are committed by indigenous men, racism might not be (read: isn’t) the reason “perpetrators are frequently convicted of lesser offences than those guilty in the deaths of non-Indigenous victims.”

Criminals aren’t getting light sentences because the victims are indigenous; they’re getting light sentences because they themselves are indigenous.

This is the entirely predictable outcome of progressive approaches to crime:

• Falsely blame racism for a problem.

• Attempt to solve racism.

• Create a new problem.

• “Rinse and repeat.”

If you want indigenous victims of murder to receive “justice” send the perpetrators of the crimes to jail. If you want there to be less indigenous people in jail, tell them to stop committing crimes.

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The problem with the “Marge approach” to justice is that it invariably finds a way to excuse the actions of criminals. There’s always some “systematic” reason why a criminal is not responsible for their actions and the choices they make. The “Marge approach” to law and order might best be summed up like this:

Marge: You broke the law?

Accused: Ya

Marge: Well, I’m sure there’s a reason why it’s not your fault so we should go easy on you.

The problem is that you’ve created a system in which victims do not receive justice.

If we want to fix the problem, we need to go back to the “Homer” approach:

Homer: You broke the law?

Accused: Ya

Homer: You’re going to jail. For a long time.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article, he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article. Your attention, participation, and support really make a difference to us.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

Sitting at my writing desk in Portland, Oregon, here, in the now, and looking out my window, there is a row of houses that sit directly across the street. Their architecture is distinctly American, and they are enveloped by an inexplicable ray of sunshine—around this time in Portland, one usually expects grayish, silvery days with winds that cut, and a balm that makes you shiver. I can vaguely recall weather this cold. It was here, right here in Portland, right before I left for Brazil. That was five years ago, almost to the day.

The day here is inching towards golden hour, it’s around 4 in the afternoon. Back in Brazil, it is around 10pm and I assume my wife may be in our apartment getting ready for bed, or reading, or doing god knows what. I have no idea, truthfully. I don’t keep up with her much these days—she’s finally decided on a divorce, and so we will do the paperwork and dissolve the marriage by proxy. Well, no problem there. I have not heard her voice since the very last night at the airport, all the way back in early November. That’s life!

The question has often come since my arrival back in America—what have I brought back with me? What have I imported?

Brazil, in its sun-drenched charm, is a bit of a fever dream. I pluck memories from within it that are so old, I even remembered them long ago while still there. As if the whole of it were a book, my mind is strangely drawn to the early days, the story’s earliest chapters. I remember how door knobs turned and felt in my hand, how the air smelled when the day was surely headed for a downpour, the gliding and striping of fresh paint for a new home, for a new life, in a new country, with a wife I had newly married. Well, some things just don’t last as long as you think they will.

What have I brought back with me? What have I imported?

I could not count the former selves I must have woven through in that open country. From the countryside, where nothing at all seems to have been built, and plenty of smiling faces, to the harsh São Paulo reality—where there is hardly room for anything more, and a smile from anyone is largely received with suspicion. Still, in these many selves, is the love of my wife, and too, her former selves and all their weaving as well. São Paulo and its streets, which are menacing and shadowy, had the means to cut through a marriage—any crack would be stressed to its fatal breaking point, its final conclusion.

The layers of that big green country are tattooed upon my spirit, let’s say. The state of Minas Gerais has a big hand in that. In Minas, it is as though everyone should spend their life outside in the heat, right out in the sun. That quite suited me then. Even having lived a decade in California, I don’t believe I have ever seen so much sun or felt so much heat pounding down from such a gigantic sky.

Everywhere there is a lesson. Everywhere one looks there is a former self that has withered and died. And so there is a crepiscule, something like a museum you make for yourself, in order to preserve what is perhaps only a carcass, whose lessons and trials have been exported and blasted unto the surface of another life, a whole new set of circumstances, whose new appeals wain and waver at every step forward—and still there is celebration.

Still, there is no cause to worry or break. There is nothing to break. Nothing that can shake you anymore than you already have been shaken. Fear comes on, but is shaken off with a grin. Fear is something silly—at least in this chapter—while you ruminate on your current condition. The novelty of your situation is a necessary buffer, which gives birth to a new ambition, a new will to live a new life, a new understanding of all that and no understanding of what it entails.

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And what do we import from experiences that cause us to think in these terms? I could not think like this, nor write like this everyday if I tried. I have no need to think this densely on anything, no real desire to do it. What do we import from a land, a land which has returned to a state of fiction, a fantasy, that is to say a memory?

So, that big green country cradled me for a bit. Nurtured me for a while. I must be grateful for that, for a marriage, for the love that came and went. I can bring back with me a feast of emotions. I have yet to put them to use. They crowd around me, they come and they go as new memories take their place. I am racking up new memories here in Portland as I speak. I have imported little of myself yet. But if nothing, there is growth and movement, chaos and endurance, love and gratitude. I will write to Brazil again, I am sure. But for now I say muito obrigado!

I have every intention of returning.

Até a próxima

JSV
2026

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

Again, I’m sure they’re perfectly nice places with wonderful people. However, this isn’t about where I want to vacation but rather what can be learned from the recent news stories about Greenland and Minneapolis.

Skimming the headlines tells us that Trump wants to buy/invade Greenland and that ICE is enforcing the law/conducting Gestapo raids in Minneapolis, and people are protesting/rioting in response.

I’ll let you decide the proper framing based on your political leanings and relationship to truth and skepticism.

I’m more interested in what some of the actions tell us. Specifically, what can we learn about people’s ability to weigh risk and reward?

Let’s Punch a Nazi!
Framing this in the least political way I know how, Renee Nicole Good was shot and killed by an ICE agent. It’s a tragedy. If for no other reason than she had kids. I’ll let others parse the video footage and frame it how they will. I’m more interested in what she was thinking.

I don’t need video footage for that, just good old-fashioned logic.

There are two possibilities:

1. She believed America is threatened by fascism

2. She didn’t believe that

If America really is threatened with fascist takeover and ICE represents the new Gestapo, then good for her for standing up to evil.

Except…

What did she think was going to happen when she started taunting Gestapo agents? If a couple of unarmed lesbians could end fascism, World War II could have been ended by Eleanor Roosevelt and one of her female pals.

If the point wasn’t to stop them but to highlight the “ongoing injustice,” couldn’t she have done that from the sidewalk?

If she didn’t think America is becoming a fascist state but simply believed that the laws are unjust, was there a more rational approach to protesting? (Hint: the answer is not “no.”)

Again, protesting from the sidewalk would seem to be a rational approach. Disagreeing with a law is not a license to interfere. If I think the speed limit is too low and I drive faster than permitted, does that give me the right to ignore the police when they try to pull me over? Would a high-speed chase be an effective way to protest traffic laws, or would there be a good chance that someone, likely me, would be injured or killed?

I am not blaming the victim. But being a victim does not excuse you from responsibility for your actions. I have the right to do what I want with my money, and if it’s stolen, I’m a victim. Even if my money is stolen because I left it on my front lawn overnight, I’m still a victim. I’m just a very stupid one.

What happened in Minneapolis is a tragedy. It’s also what can happen if you spend your time LARPing as a member of “the resistance.”

This far and no further! Unless…
The response from NATO countries to Trump’s desire to acquire Greenland, while not ruling out the use of force, has led the leaders of some NATO countries to engage in similarly foolish behavior.

Earlier this week, Germany joined other NATO allies like Sweden, Canada, and the Netherlands in sending troops to Greenland.

German politician Peter Beyer stated, “that the deployment is not meant to spark a confrontation against the U.S., but a measure to ensure the common security interests of all NATO partners.”

I’ve read the statement several times now, and it makes no sense to me.

But then I don’t really need it to, because once again, we are faced with two possibilities:

1. NATO leaders believe that Trump will use force

2. They don’t believe it

If it’s #1, what’s the thinking here? We believe the US is going to invade, and we haven’t maintained our militaries for decades, but we think we can still stop the world’s last remaining superpower with a couple of hundred men?

Perhaps they can ask America for a loan to buy weapons from American companies to defend the American-backed international order from America.

Nobody is that dumb. No, I think what we’re seeing is Kabuki theater, politicians thinking “nobody believes the US will invade, so let’s show our citizens we’re willing to stand up to imaginary threats.”

And if they’re wrong? Well, high-stakes poker is a lot of fun if you’re playing with other people’s money. Or lives.

Is Trump a neo-fascist bent on the military takeover of an ally’s territory? I don’t think so. I could be wrong. I don’t have a crystal ball like so many opposing Trump seem to think they have.

That’s beside the point, though. This isn’t about politics or right or wrong. Or Left or Right, for that matter. This is about FAFO. It’s about “play a stupid game, win a stupid prize.”

It’s about risk and reward.

It’s not impossible that 20 years down the road, we look back on Rene Nicole Good as we do Anne Frank, or on the politicians sending troops to Greenland as we do Churchill and FDR. Heroes who stopped the spread of fascism.

It’s not impossible, but I doubt it.

Most likely, we’ll look back on this time as we look back on the 1960s. Some good things happened, some bad things, but I have bills to pay, my kid needs braces, and I’m much rather talk about who’s going to win the Super Bowl.

Politicians will be politicians; there’s nothing I can do about that. But it’s sometimes possible to get through to individuals.

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So, listen up!

Here’s my advice. Stay home. If you really feel strongly about what’s happening, write your congressman. Not enough? Fine, go to a protest. But leave your SUV in a parking lot and stand on the sidewalk.

If you absolutely must, throw a Danish flag on your X profile beside the Hamas and trans ones. You can even write in your bio that you “fight fascism.”

You’ll accomplish about as much as yelling at ICE does, and the only downside will be that sane people think you’re a virtue signaling moron.

But we already think that anyway.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article. Your attention, participation, and support really make a difference to us.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

In downtown Portland, I begin work at 7 pm. At a neighborhood bar on the corner, I am in the basement, which smells distinctly of urine, and whose space is divided by small table tops and stools, a few tables, and a dusty area in the back for throwing darts. The floors are concrete and littered with tiny pieces of broken glass. Behind the bar, I am preparing for a busy Friday night. There must be an adequate number of limes and lemons sliced, the wells must be fully stocked with liquor, fridges with beer, coolers with ice, etc. Bar napkins, too, as well as mixing tins and pour spouts, must be accounted for and properly set aside in their respective containers.

This is all standard operation—for every bar, in every city. These motions are robotic, fundamental, and tedious. They require little skill or talent, but benefit from some experience, because timing, after all, is key, because you will want to be fully prepared—so that when the bar inevitably becomes crowded, everything is within reach, fully available at the ready. Each move you make as a bartender, therefore, becomes almost thoughtless, automatic, reduced to basic muscle memory. This level of execution may take years to master, but once mastered, you become slightly more singular with your thoughts—there is a zen to this type of craft, this tedium.

For most of my life, I have felt plagued by what felt tedious—homework and studying as a child, taxes, menial labor, and job applications as an adult, and a litany of required activities in between, the sneaking suspicion soon creeps up that I could be better off doing something else. Better, much better off I would be if I could be released from this monotony—perhaps, in some ways, the world would be better off, too. Release me, and you shall see! Dammit, you will all see!

At the bar, my feet are stuck in concrete. There are six more hours to go on my shift. The bar is getting crowded, a wall of drinkers are shouting out their orders, holding out their credit cards. However loud or even obnoxious they become, I remind myself how much I genuinely like people, how much I adore a jolly crowd.

Whatever is blue, whatever is disenchanted within me is pushed aside, and I can muster a true smile at the thirsty patrons before me. When down here in this Portland basement, with its pool tables and broken glass, I have stepped into a time machine. Where all my troubles, my plight, my perplexing marriage, my politic-ravaged country, my ever restless spirit, my worrisome mind can go to rest, without the harsh drumming of time so ever present.

At present, I am 39 years old. I thought I had said goodbye to this bartending business a long time ago. It is harder on my body now, the constant nature of it, the long nights til 4 am. My coworkers are a decade younger than I, the typical patron is almost two decades younger. Contradictorily, I am made to feel younger and also older at the same time. But there is no ill will towards the crowd, my coworkers, or the job itself. Just the strange and, yes, painful reminder that the things you think will last often do not, and the things you swear will never return very well may.

I have gone through this business once before, worried about whether the bar will be busy, whether I will earn a certain amount of money, or how long I will remain in this industry.

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But at the very present, none of this concerns me. I am lost in a daydream, in a blurry crowd, who I am eager to serve, eager to please. Because it is good to be of some use, to somebody, to anybody. And while each movement is more or less intuitive, uninteresting, memorized, there is a zen, a type of meditation to the dance. Instead of counting the dollars and the hours, at this very moment in my life, on the brink of a chapter where everything is new and therefore nothing can be taken for granted, I count nothing—when I am done with my work, I can then take time for inventory, for personal accounting.

For now, I am grateful for this menial labor, this time-wasting job. Its architecture is one that keeps out the rushing, impulsive thoughts. Its architect is somewhat of a fool, thinking those thoughts do not await him. Whatever my fate is, it is unknown to me. What I wish to express is gratitude for this tedium—at the moment, it is service that seems to keep me alive and kicking.

JSV
2026

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

I think it’s all the bad news I’m reading. What? You think it may be due to wearing a mask while driving alone in my car?

You say my double-masking might be making it worse, and that what I’m describing sounds a lot like the common symptoms and signs of strangulation.

Nah. It’s the news.

Double-masking while driving makes perfect sense if you think about it. You see, we are in the midst of a global superflu epidemic. The papers in Australia, Canada, the UK, and the US all say so, and if I’ve learned anything over the last decade, it’s that the media never lies or exaggerates.

I’m not here to alarm you (I’m pretty sure someone else has that job). I’m just here to provide a public service by keeping you informed and ensuring that you know how to stay safe. With that in mind, we better make sure we recognize the superflu symptoms so we can rush to the hospital as soon as we see any.

These symptoms include:

• Fever or feeling feverish/chills

• Cough

• Sore throat

• Runny or stuffy nose

• Muscle or body aches

• Headaches

• Fatigue (which can be extreme and prolonged)

• Sometimes vomiting and diarrhea (more common in children)

Terrifying, isn’t it? Sorry, what? You say it sounds exactly like the regular flu. Hmmm. Now that you mention it, it does. What makes this flu “super?” Good question. It must be more severe.

What? “Current epidemiological data from the WHO and CDC show no evidence that subclade K causes more severe illness on an individual level than other circulating flu viruses.”

Weird. If I didn’t know better, I might suspect that the press was being unnecessarily alarmist.

That can’t be the case, though, right? Surely, if the press were being alarmist, we’d notice it in other news stories. For example, they’d be replacing perfectly good terms to describe climate, health, politics, and weather events with made-up terms that unnecessarily over-exaggerate issues and “collapse uncertainty, scale, and causation into a single moral or existential frame.”

Sure, this would drive engagement and increase advertising revenue, but would the press really do something that reckless? Would the media “contribute to public anxiety,” “polarize debate, and reduce focus on practical solutions” just to make a few more dollars?

I cannot believe they would be that irresponsible. What? You want more details of what it would look like? Okay. Well, you’re putting me on the spot, but just off the top of my head, I’d replace the terms on the left with the terms on the right that are totally made-up and add zero value, but which scare the bejesus out of people.

Thank God the press is too responsible to use any of those terms.

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Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to run. I need to start stockpiling canned goods and ammo in my bunker. It’s a perfectly rational thing to do, given what I’m reading in the news. Don’t worry, I’ll be wearing a mask while I’m doing it.

Given what the press is saying, I’d be crazy not to!

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article, he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing your thoughts in the comments, subscribing, or even buying him a coffee if you’re feeling generous and felt that this was a particularly enjoyable article. Your attention, participation, and support really make a difference to us.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

These walled-off chapters exist as if torn out of some autobiography, one that is damned, and one you just know is better kept to yourself. Too, the art of starting over is not a craft one may ever get entirely used to, not a craft one could ever perfect. To perfect it, one must perfect themselves, and the art of starting over would be unnecessary, unthinkable.

Another aspect of starting over is that it is not an exercise or craft, as I have tried to label it, that affects everyone equally. There does seem to be a certain quality to a person, a person with a set of preconditions, set circumstances, and even temperament that seems to doom them. I mean to say they are more closely, more dramatically affected, or perhaps cursed, with not the desire to start themselves over, but with finding themselves in situations where starting over is absolutely necessary, if not, specifically required.

There are those, and you may be one of them, or may have one or two of them in mind as we speak, that seem relegated to a great personal reset, by great leap or bound, whether forward or backwards, where yet again, another chapter is so firmly and solidly closed that the rhythm, tempo, and cadence of one’s life is seen in great relief; sweeping changes within political, geographical (being a large one, as it implies the next), cultural or attitudinal conditions all have their push and pull, a great sway on the heart and soul of all humankind.

However, the starting over in many cases is likely to be little more than dumb luck on the part of the receiver—those folks who, for whatever reason, cannot seem to keep their life in order, their condition intact, their lot in life, from the significant to the ornamental, from drifting back into the red. From the viewpoint of the causal spectator, there are folks who cannot help but return to the starting line, to pick up the pieces of a chapter blighted, and either trudge forward begrudgingly, or hotly shot from of a rocket—or whatever in between.

The disposition that seems to follow is that of the artist, which is only really another way of saying those who are sensitive—to their surroundings, to the immediate effects of their environment, to the people they have collided with as well as possessing the need to hold on to those who have either become estranged or departed for far longer than they themselves would even prefer. I can hear this read with some cynicism, or better yet, elitism in mind, as though it is the artist who must only be living—and I don’t mean it in this way—the spirit of the artist and poet is what I mean here, and this far predates the artist and the poet.

Some will say we are all born this way, and that it is life that beats this playful, adventurous spirit out of us, day by day, fear on top of fear, consequence on top of consequence, mistake after mistake. This perspective is all well and good by me, but it is as democratic as I am willing to go, as one would have to be a fool to think all humans feel at an equal depth. But while those who appear to start over often are sensitive, they are also forced to protect their vulnerabilities in such a way, just such a way, that makes them strong. In this way, strength and weakness become intertwined, and the answer lies only inside one’s perspective.

I cannot say that starting over, in whatever way we would like to think of it, necessarily makes you stronger. That would suggest that no experience ever lived could ever make you weaker. I don’t believe that is so. Experiences do form an outer crust, but also create and carve away at vulnerabilities and insecurities.

One cannot say these will not add up to a cynical, worn-out old body—the physical leftovers of life’s punching bag. But with a dose of humor, and with embracing the call to adventure, one can see opportunity wherever one chooses, and with the veil of depending on other people torn away, each chapter can be seen as a way to carve out a life that is yours and yours alone—can you imagine anyone else in your laughable circumstance?

What I wish to relay is that life is full of exits. And whether from dumb luck or intentional reinvention, the ability to embrace change—to head to the exit door with a sense of dignity is the task here, which is often silent, thankless, and rooted in solitude. It is no easy task, one finds, when the old worlds that you have exited remind you of your previous chapters.

Just last night, I experienced just that occasion. Caught in a daydream, I was thinking about a house I lived in, only two years ago—bright yellow, sitting among a small hamlet in the countryside of Brazil. I see my wife hanging laundry in a ray of sunshine and our dog Eva in the front yard. The mountains rolling in the back, the exotic birds trilling in the distance—so goes such memories. And this is a memory so simple, so complete, it envelops me entirely. For a brief spell, I am there. Right back there, existing in a memory, in a previous chapter. Suddenly, I am vexed by reality; across the bar floor, a glass shatters and, too, has shattered a vision of what is no longer.

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The music at the bar is blaring, the crowd is thirsty and getting rowdy. It is midnight in Portland, Oregon, and the dishes are piling up all across the bar. If I don’t get these glasses cleaned and stocked quickly, the bartenders will surely run out of glasses soon. If I simply focus on the tasks at hand, I will end the night in one piece. To start over, in many cases, is to push stirring memories aside, and keep moving forward even from zero. Especially from zero.

To new beginnings. Have a great new year.
JSV

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

76,000 people doesn’t sound like a lot, and it isn’t, however it is largely being spun by supporters of high immigration as terrible news for the economy.

Is it though?

What seems to be understated or outright ignored is that Canada did not experience immigration during the Trudeau years, but rather a program of mass immigration, as shown by this graph.

Note: While I have not been able to find a more recent version of this graph, Stats Canada data – if I’m reading it correctly – appears to show that 880k immigrants and non-permanent residents entered the county in 2024, down from 1.26M in 2023.

One of the results of this program of mass immigration was an exacerbated housing crisis, a strain on the healthcare system, and stagnant wages.

We know immigration has been out of control because one of the reasons the Liberals were able to win the 2025 election – aside from dumping the very unpopular Trudeau – was that they cut the legs out from under the Conservatives by promising to end Trudeau’s wildly unpopular mass immigration program.

If the population decline is examined with the understanding that immigration has been too high for a decade, the decline should be seen not as a terrible turn of events, but rather as a planned reduction, a “blowing off of steam” that had to happen if Canadians did not want to see the system blow up entirely.

Don’t let the door hit you on the…

Even the more measured takes, such as this one, fail once we dig into the details.

The decline is not caused by citizens emigrating to other countries for better opportunities, but rather by a decline in non-permanent residents. In other words, visa holders.

Note: if the numbers don’t add up, and they seem not to, blame Stats Canada, not me. A better – or frankly, any – explanation of how the various charts relate would have made this exercise much easier.

Lest anyone frame this as Canada becoming an unwelcoming place for immigrants, let me point out that the country did allow 102,867 new immigrants in the third quarter, a number that is higher than the quarterly average since 2015 (87,518), and while the number of non-permanent residents has declined, it was not due to a the end of Canada’s generous asylum policies. The number of asylum claimants rose by 7,324 overall and by 8,817 in the “asylum claimants without work or study permits” category (i.e., people who receive benefits but do not contribute to the economy – my apologies for putting this bluntly).

The majority of outflows were work permit holders (-35,231) and study permit holders (-73,682).

What does this mean for the economy?

This is difficult to determine because there are too many questions to which we don’t have answers:

• Did everyone who left have a job?

• What did these jobs contribute to the economy?

• How much did these people spend in Canada, and how much did they send “home?”

• Will permanent Canadian residents want the jobs that have been vacated?

I’m not an economist, so I’m going to have to make some assumptions.

On second thought, that might mean I am an economist because that’s typically what they do as well.

The easiest approach is to assume that their contribution to the economy is “average.” However, even then, we are left with the question: average for the workforce or average for the population? Let’s do both. We’ll also assume that no one takes the jobs being vacated, and none of the people who left were sending any money home:

They were all employed - If this was the case, 76,068 represents 0.35% of the 21.5 million labor force. Canada’s GDP is US$2.39 trillion. In this scenario, GDP would be reduced by US$8.365 billion.

They were representative of the broader Canadian population – 76,068 represents 0.183% of Canada’s total population (41,575,585). In this scenario, GDP would be reduced by US$4.374 billion.

Both are large numbers. Until you consider them from a per capita standpoint, then they become US$201.20 per person and US$105.20 per person.

Not great, but hardly crippling.

And let’s be honest, my assumptions were overly generous and do not take into consideration the benefits of a slight decrease in population (ex. housing, wages, employment).

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During the Trudeau years, the population grew by over 6 million. That’s roughly 15–18%. The most recent comprehensive data (2021 census) shows 23% of the Canadian population are foreign-born, or almost 1 in 4. The 76,068 people that Canada lost during the third quarter represent approximately 0.2% of the country’s population.

I don’t think Canada is suddenly in danger of turning into Japan or South Korea. If you get the impression that I see this as a big “nothing burger,” well done, you’ve been paying attention.

And if you’re still not convinced, I saved the best for last. StatCan’s methodology is to treat the expiration of permits as departures regardless of actual exit.

In other words, there’s no proof that any of these people even left. If only the Canadian government took the same approach to collecting taxes.

Phil is a freelance writer, Canadian Navy veteran, and classical liberal. He has lived and worked in both Canada and the United States and currently resides in Vancouver, British Columbia where he writes on politics, individual rights, free speech, and anything else that catches his fancy.

As you may have picked up from this article he’s now trying his hand at humor. You can find some of what he finds funny here.

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Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.