You have to like a government that lives by the motto “Do As I Say, Not As I Do.” Iggy and the Liberals have had their yaps shut over the last two days because of a diplomats revelations. She has stated that this whole Afghan detainee thing could have been stopped if Paul Martin’s Liberal government had negotiated a better prisoner agreement with the Afghan Government. Being one of the top people on the ground in Afghanistan, she blew the whistle in 2005 about the possibility of detainees being tortured. The Liberal government of the day refused to deal with it. Now the Conservative government, who inherited this mess, had been blamed by the Liberals and staging some sort of coverup. Well so much for that. Iggy has fallen silent.

Here the NDP’s have been crying for decades about governments supporting big business with taxpayer’s dollars, when they should have been taxing the heck out of Big Bad Business and making them “pay their fair share”.

Over the last four months, Ringo and his band have cancelled a $6 million subsidy to the Yarmouth ferry and ended up paying a $3 million penalty for the decision. They have given the Irvings an $8 million forgivable loan to take over the Shelburne shipyard, and provided tens of millions of dollars to Daewoo to build windmill parts in the old Trenton works. They have also repurchase land near the Abercrombie papermill at twice the price of what they sold it for. Wonderful decisions all. Naw I kidding, some of them stink.

But what happened to not giving taxpayer’s money to big business? Huh? Really. Wasn’t that your raison d’etre all these years? Well, your ability to stick to your values is awe inspiring. Get a grip.

Until then, I remain,
A Sour Kraut

If anyone has been watching, the European Union is teetering on the edge of financial oblivion. The reason is the governments and a system that has saddled members of the EU with massive debts and structural excesses. Greece is the first country to show the cracks. It is faltering under a massive debt, trouble collecting taxes and an economy that heavily unionized and is supported by the public sector. About one in three jobs in Greece is a part of the public system.

A decade ago the country received a visit from some “money people” from JP Morgan. These nice guys showed the government how they could convert debt into money market transactions. The result was Greece was able to wipe a lot of debt off their books and present a much rosier financial picture to the world and the EU. It didn’t mean they wiped out the debt, just how it was accounted for. Now the poop is hitting the fan and the EU has come to Greece’s rescue. You see, Portugal and Spain are not that much healthier. The fear is if Greece defaults, it may have a domino effect within the EU.

Hmmm. Countries that are struggling with debt, rely on the public service and are controlled by unions. Sounds familiar. I can’t put my finger on it, but… Oh Yeah, now I remember. Sounds like half the provinces in Canada. Oh well, lets see if Alberta and Newfoundland will come to our aid when we start to falter. I hope our leaders are watching. They need to cut the Greece out of our system and do it fast.

Until then, I remain,

A Sour Kraut.

I am getting so tired of this MLA expense thing. Certain MLA’s screwed up. It is that simple. They don’t need new “rules”. They don’t need to keep receipts. They don’t need to use the excuse that “governments” have been doing it for years and they just followed the pack. They need to fess up that they spent money for their own benefit because they could. Simple. There was the right thing to do and the wrong thing to do. Unfortunately, few chose the right way and many chose the wrong way.

Take Bill Estabrooks. He is just an example for the MLA’s that chose the right path. The MLA for Timberlea buys used office furniture if he needs it. And has a little office in an old school in Lakeside. He says he has a fancy office downtown and his constituency office can be plain and simple. Sounds like he is on the right track. Then lets look at our fearless leader Ringo. The man who like to buy $2100 cameras because he wants quality. The one who gave his office staff more than $50,000 in bonuses. The one who was maintaining his NS Bar registration to the tune of $3000 per year with taxpayers money. The one who didn’t think there was anything wrong with this. The one who now pays for his NS Bar registration out of his own pocket, but has decided that since it is coming out of his bank account that maybe it would be better to change his status to “non-practicing” and only pay $250 per year. The one who is making me sick.

The problem is not with the government, or fuzzy rules. The problem is with a number of MLA’s who view public money as their birthright. I have mentioned before having a “Do Over”. Now I just want to get these guys and gals out of office.

Until then, I remain,

A Sour Kraut.

In April of 2009 I learned of a hospital system in Pennsylvania that was testing a new concept in cardiac care. They were warranteeing their work!

Yes, its true. The hospital was offering a satisfaction and performance warranty for anyone who was having cardiac bypass surgery performed. The reason was simple. Giving better care. You see, their numbers showed that 35 percent of readmissions after surgery were a result of physician errors and the billing system rewarded multiple revisits by paying the doctor each time.

The Geisinger Health System, which runs a number of hospitals in the state, decided that the best way to tackle this situation was to offer a warranty that bound the physician and patient to specific care criteria. There are forty steps the physician must take, pre and post procedure, to validate the surgery. If the physician fails to complete any of the steps the surgery is free to the patient as well as any follow up care needed to rectify any problems. In addition the cardiac bypass procedure is billed as a flat fee. There are no extras for all of the follow up visits or tests.

The results have been extraordinary. Complications are way down. Average hospital stay has fallen from 6.2 to 5.7 days and readmissions due to complications are down a whopping 44%.

The key to all of this is that the physicians in the Geisinger system are all employees who get paid a base salary plus incentives. They are the ones who decide which care criteria are the most important and were involved in coming up with the 40 point care plan. As a result when things go well they receive their compensation in the form of a bonus.

Interesting. And maybe the wave of the future as health systems all over the world try to come to grips with rising costs. The rationale is simple. Pay people based on performance rather than volume. Lets see Ringo and his crew address that one. Not likely.

Until then, I remain,

A Sour Kraut.

I always thought I was born twenty-five years too late. I really think that I would have been very happy in the fifties and sixties. Before political correctness, before committees and passing the buck, when everyone new what they were supposed to do and did it. Sometimes I will flip through the latest fashion magazine or check out fashion weeks in New York or Paris. An old habit I picked up more than twenty years ago. Typically I recoil in horror at what the “designers” parade down the run way as “fashion”. I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing – I say to myself.

Well, there is actually some good news from Paris. A couple of the designers, namely Marco Zanini (Rochas) and Dries Van Noten have taken a page out of 50′s and 60′s fashion to come up with a collection that I could actually buy into. Classic A-line skirts, and femine shapes and fabrics. Yup, sign me up.

Why not? This was a time where men and women dressed so that you would not mistake one for the other. Suits and ties were the norm. “Business Casual” were sports coats and trousers. Jeans were for working in the yard and cost about $3 a pair. Women wore dresses and were considered risque if they wore slacks. People dressed for respect. You went out in the best you had. You shaved, your shirt was pressed, your hair and nails were done. You new the game. If you were a man, you knew that you had a job and you were the bread winner, provider and usually the ultimate when it came to discipline around the house. And when it came to the house, it was your job to have the outside looking great. If not the other neighbours may sneer. For the women, their domain was the house and family. Lord only knows the embarrassment of sending one of your children to school in an unclean outfit. If something broke during the day, you made sure it got fixed. If something needed to be done at school, it got done. When your children received compliments for their exemplary behaviour, it was you that could smile and know that you were raising children that were going to make a difference some day.

That was then. Now we have men showing up to work in ripped jeans and sneakers. Whose language in public would shock a beatnik from the 50′s. James Dean was better behaved! Women haven’t done much better. The pressures of career and home have not been made any easier by a male population that just wants to lay around and play on the computer. Nobody takes on any responsibility and as a result homes and children are being raised by tacit agreements and what is the “easiest” path for “frazzled” parents.

Maybe it is just me looking back through rose coloured glasses. But I can’t help but think that we have not really progressed. From a time where you had a job, were proud to have it and you did it, whether you made mistakes or not, to a time where we really could care less for our employer and less about whether we take responsibility for our actions or pass the buck to general concesus. Instead we have decided it is the almighty buck that is important. You see, back then, there were no dual incomes. There were very few second cars. Vacations were two weeks during the summer and maybe you got to go somewhere for one of those. It was simpler, and while the possessions side took a hit, the all elusive quality time we so crave now was in abundance. It is our children who are growing up watching this malaise and I can’t help think that this is not going to motivate them to do any better.

Now a nice skirt or tie is not going to change the world. To me it is just a symbol that maybe if we care enough about ourselves than maybe we can take the next step and care about someone or something else.

Oh well, it’s never going to happen. I’ll just have to go to my closet and keep trying on clothes that will become way too small, long before they wear out. You see I am getting taller. Yeah that’s it.

Until then, I remain,

A Sour Kraut.

We Canadians are pretty smart. Yup, the world oil market is fighting the forces of speculators to take it over again. (EIA reports continue to show rising inventories for oil and gas in the US coupled with weak demand, yet prices are being pushed up due to the idea that demand from developing countries will pick up the slack. No time soon, if you look at the numbers.) MP’s and senators are flying first class because of they feeling of entitlement. (They actually have to fly first class since noone in economy wants to sit by them.) Children are landing planes in New York. The throne speach actually mentioned the plight of missing arboriginal women and the idea that the government was going to do something about it. Yet we Canadians have figured out the biggest concern for the country. The CBC website that has the most hits is the one dealing with the government’s wishes to change our national anthem and take out the word “sons”. Way to go. The rest of the world is in awe at our laser like ability to cut to the root of the country’s problems.

A Sour Kraut

You know that one of my most annoying legacies of the Chretien era is the submarine program of our proud Canadian Navy. Instead of okaying a perfectly sensible and rational nuclear sub program proposed by the then Conservative government in late 80′s, Chretien and the Liberals fought it at every level. Once it was killed and they were in power, they had to come up with a solution to Canada’s aging subs. The correct option was the nuclear one. Since they had already killed it they couldn’t do an about face. Instead they did a deal with the British for four used subs. When the deal was first agreed too, the subs were only a few years old. But, politically, Chretien couldn’t move that fast. He had to wait to let some time pass between his killing the nuclear option, since “we didn’t need new subs”, and taking delivery of these “new” subs. Four to five years passed, with these subs rusting in the water. They have been trouble since day one.

The Chicoutimi caught fire crossing the Atlantic with the resulting loss of life of one sailor. It has been barged out west. The Windsor does sail occasionally. The Victoria is on the west coast. The workers at the dockyard call these things ATM’s. We are constantly pumping money into them. And according to them these things are “junk” and will always see more time on the slip than in the water. In their view these are all going to make their way to west coast over the next few years and that is where they will slowly die.

Great. So much for a proud submarine service legacy. Thanks Jean.

Until then, I remain,

A Sour Kraut.

When Cliff arrived at The Garage, Joe and Cecil were standing by the front counter. “What are you doing here?” Cecil wondered.
“He’s right,” Joe agreed, surprised, “What are you doing here!?”
“Just couldn’t stay away from your lovely countenance,” Cliff said as he walked by.
“Whaa?”
“Your face, Joe, I just missed your lovely face.”
“Are you going to be able to work?” Cecil wanted to know.
“Sure, but if I don’t feel good I will let you know.” Cliff continued to his tool cabinet. He turned around and yelled, “We got anything on today?”
Cecil yelled back, “Nothing we need you for, why don’t you go home?”
“Thanks for the inspiration chief. Go home? I just got here.” Cliff wandered around, organizing and cleaning his tools. Finally he walked to the office and stuck his head in the door. “I am going to go out back and finish tearing down that 190.”
Cecil was running through some invoices. He looked up at Cliff and stared for a moment. “Why are you here?”
Cliff was startled. Why wouldn’t he be here? He worked here. He didn’t understand why Cecil would be curious, maybe even upset that one of his employee’s was on the job. “’Cuz, I work here,” he stated rather quizzically.
“Hmmph, but you could be at home.”
“Yeesss, but like I said I work here and I thought I should be here.” Cliff waited for Cecil to say something. “What you don’t want me here?”
Cecil thought for a moment and then quickly replied, “No, no. Sure you go out back and strip that car. If any of the other guys need your help they know where you are.”
“No problem. By the way, when is the next shipment coming in?”
Cecil froze. He looked hard at Cliff. “Why do you want to know?”
Cliff was getting very uncomfortable. “Did you forget that I work here? Christ, if I didn’t know better I would think that you went out and got married. Your are acting like a man who has a wife who is constantly harping on him. Just don’t take it out on me.” With that Cliff turned and walked across the shop. He wondered if Cecil had noticed the sweat starting to bead on his forehead. Joe caught Cliff’s eye. He smiled as he watched Joe shrug is shoulders in disbelief.
The next couple hours were just what Cliff needed. Alone, quiet and the methodical work of taking parts off an old car, checking for condition and cataloging each one as he placed it into the shops inventory. For a while he was able to forget everything else.. All that changed when he heard Joe’s voice. “Clllliiiiffffff,” came the long drawn out yell, “There is someone here to see yooouuu.”
Cliff walked back out into the shop and saw Joe smiling. Beyond the door he could see the grille of a Daimler. His heart sank. “What now!” he thought as he braced himself for another episode with Mrs. Flanagan. As he walked further he could hear her voice. She was talking to someone and not in a polite tone. He was shocked to see Cecil standing by the driver’s door, unflinching as Flanagan’s full tirade hit him.
“…this is totally unacceptable. As I have said, this car has been in here multiple times and you and your employee’s have been unable to solve the problem. I have about had it. You know that you don’t want me to be angry with you or your employees. I have lawyers that would love to take you to court for incompetence. I just want my car fixed. And I want it done now.”
“Yes Mrs. Flanagan,” Cecil stammered, “I’ll get my best man on it right away. JOE!!!”
“Joe,” Mrs. Flanagan screamed, “Are you trying to insult my intelligence!!? You know that Joe is not your best man for this car. Are you trying to make me angrier?”
“Uhhh, no, no, no, not at all Mrs. Flanagan,” Cecil sputtered, “its’ just that Cliff is not feeling very well today and…”
“Do you think I give a damn as to how Cliff feels?” Mrs. Flanagan demanded. “Get him out here right now and get him in this car!”
“Right away Mrs…”
“What seems to be the problem now?” Cliff interjected as he walked up to the car.
“Get in!” Mrs. Flanagan yelled.
“Yes Cliff, get in and find out what the problem is on Mrs. Flanagan’s car,” Cecil said as he breathed a sigh of relief.
Cliff gave Cecil an annoyed look and headed for the other side of the car. He sat down in the seat and before he could close the door, Mrs. Flanagan had stomped the accelerator. “Slow down!” Cliff screamed as he searched for something to hold on to. He slammed the door as she slid out into the street and pressed himself back into the seat.
“Brilliant,” Mrs. Flanagan laughed.
“Brilliant!” Cliff said incredulously, “you know when I told Mary I thought your were nuts?”
‘Yes.”
“I was wrong, you are insane!”
Mrs. Flanagan started to laugh. “It was brilliant. How did you ever come up with it?”
“With what?”
“The fainting thing.”
“Look,” Cliff started, “I did not faint. I passed out.”
Mrs. Flanagan looked over at him. “Whatever. It was still brilliant.”
“What was?”
“Coming up with the whole passing out thing. It really threw them off.”
“Coming up with it?” Cliff was confused, yet again.
“Yes, it was…”, Mrs Flanagan studied Cliff’s face. “It was an act wasn’t it?”
“No.” Cliff replied gently touching his forehead.
“You mean you really fainted!?”
Cliff got defensive, “Look, I have a lot on my mind. It was the heat and the motion driving around with you. AND I PASSED OUT!”
“Good Lord. You fainted. And we all thought you were the best actor in the world.”
Cliff just sat there.
“Anyway, it worked.” Mrs. Flanagan’s tone became milder. “How’s your head?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“What do you want?”
Mrs. Flanagan’s face stiffened. “Cecil is going to have a visitor today. I need you to try and find out what they are talking about.”
“Please slow down,” Cliff said wearily.
“Oh, yes. Sorry.”
“Who’s the guy?”
“His name is Conrad. He is an importer/exporter and does some shipping brokerage. He will be there to convince Cecil to switch his brokerage business to Conrad’s company.”
“Is he a friendly importer/exporter or the enemy?” Cliff asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your husband was and ‘importer/export’”, Cliff said as he put his two hands in the air and bent his first and second fingers, “this guy is also a spy?”
Mrs. Flanagan was surprised, “Very good Cliff, you don’t miss a thing.”
“Thank you.”
“In answer to your question, we are not sure. That is why we need you to try and figure out what is being said.”
“How am I going to know?”
“Well, it is not going to be easy. Neither he nor Cecil will want you to overhear their conversation so you are going to have to be creative.”
“What does Cecil care?” Cliff said.
Mrs. Flanagan paused. “We need to find that out too?”
Cliff was shocked. “What, you mean to tell me that Cecil is part of this?”
“He may be.”
“You are telling me that toad is a spy?”
“We have had our eye on him for some time.”
“You have been watching Cecil.”
“Everyone has.”
“Who is everyone?” Cliff wanted to know.
“Everyone,” Mrs. Flanagan replied. “Us, them, everyone.”
“Why?”
“Because he is a prime target.”
Cliff started to laugh. “Yeah, prime like a side of beef.”
“Understand that in this business you want people with very few ties. No family, no good friends, no ties. That way, if you disappear there are fewer voices demanding answers.”
“Well,” Cliff chuckled, “Cecil is one person who wouldn’t be missed that much.”
“No, and we are not sure if anyone got to him.”
“Why don’t you know?”
“Well,” Mrs. Flanagan replied, “for all his faults he has the ability to keep his affairs private.”
“He can do that because he doesn’t have any affairs!”
“You know what I mean.”
Cliff needed to know more. “So you think that Cecil would make a good operative. Now you want me to find out for sure if he is someone you can use.”
“Exactly.”
“Wait just a minute. You just said that everyone had their eye on him. Cecil is not the type of person that would attract that much attention. He really doesn’t have any skills that I would think are important to the life of a spy.”
Mrs. Flanagan wanted Cliff to go further. “And what type of skills would those be?”
“I dunno, he should at least be able to fit in with any crowd.”
“Like he was invisible.”
“Yeah, like a ‘spook’”, Cliff said knowing that Mrs. Flanagan was having fun leading him around by the nose.
“And what else?”
“He needs to be fast on his feet, physical and mentally.”
“If he his quick mentally, the need to be quick physically is diminished.”
“Oh, well as you said, he couldn’t have any ties. Like an orphan!” Cliff said triumphantly.
“Yes.”
It finally dawned on Cliff. “You said you know everything about me. You’ve been watching me since I was adopted.”
“Not since you were adopted, but you were brought to our attention after your stepfather died.”
Cliff started to get angry. “So I have been your entertainment through all these years. Ooooh, lets see what Cliff is doing today and lets see how he scores on our spy application.”
“Its not like that. We have people who monitor candidates. If the time is right we approach them.”
That did nothing to appease Cliff. “Look Flanagan, I have had about enough of being your puppet on a string. Stop the car and let me out. I’m done.”
Mrs. Flanagan veered the car over to the curb and slammed on the brakes. “Look here you immature dunce. You don’t know how lucky you have it. Everything you have is because of us. Don’t you think the police could have arrested your sorry ass a million times over your car stealing escapades? Don’t you think they wanted to seize your assets and buildings? Who in the hell do you think stopped them? Or do you believe it was because of your incredible genius? Think again buddy boy before you take one more step. Right now you have a daughter who needs help and we are your only chance. Get a grip and figure out what you are going to do. We will accomplish our goals without you. But, if you want our help, you better start thinking like a team player.”
Cliff just sat there as Mrs. Flanagan stared at him. “You got the wrong guy.”
“Oh I do, do I?”
“Yes, I am not the one you want.”
“So, the guy who fought back against his stepmother and stepsisters is the wrong guy. The guy who developed an auto theft ring and stayed out of the mob is the wrong guy. The guy who has kept clean and under the radar for the last ten years is the wrong guy.”
“You got it.”
“Well,” Mrs. Flanagan sighed, “I’d better go tell Monica.”
“You bitch.”
“Don’t even get me started.”
Mrs. Flanagan was still staring at him. Cliff was feeling very uncomfortable. He knew she was right. He also knew that he did not want to go through with this. He wanted it all to go away. He was trapped and Mrs. Flanagan knew it. Cliff’s anger was quickly overwhelmed by a need to protect Monica. He sat up in the seat and took a deep breath. “So, this guy’s name is Conrad?”
Mrs. Flanagan smiled.
“What does he look like?”
“We are not sure.”
“What? How can you not be sure?”
“Well, we know he has had some work done. Nobody has been able to get a shot of him since.”
Cliff felt a wave of anxiety come over him. “So I am flying blind?”
“No, not really,” Mrs. Flanagan started to explain. “How many people have you seen come in for an appointment with Cecil?”
“You’re right. He should be pretty easy to pick out. What accent does he speak with?”
“Anyone he wants.”
“Great. So this guy is a real professional.”
“He is, but you have the advantage,” Mrs. Flanagan consoled.
“How’s that?”
“He’s not looking for you. You’re looking for him.”
“I’ll bet he’s worried.”
“Maybe. But don’t cross him. He’ll kill if he has no other option.”
“Your telling me this, why?”
Mrs. Flanagan was staring at Cliff again. “I am telling you this,” she said slowly, “so you don’t go into anything unprepared.”
“I suddenly feel all warm and fuzzy,” Cliff chided.
Mrs. Flanagan pulled out into traffic and quickly made a quick u-turn. “Okay, no we are in business. You are going to go back to work and make like nothing has changed. Before you know it we will be on a way to a kidney for Monica.”
“On the way. Yup, on the way.”

Okay, first things first. I thought that Canada’s “Own The Podium” program was a complete success. Sure the Canadian athletes did not meet the lofty expectations of the program directors, but that was a foregone conclusion given all the injuries sustained by some of our athletes before the Olympics. If you took notice of the standings other than medals, you would have noticed how many Canadians placed in the top five in the various events. A few Olympic games ago we were happy to be in the top ten. Well done.

Now, I don’t mean to sound un-patriotic, but the two hockey gold medals were nothing to get all excited about. The women had a better showing. They beat the US, their only competition. On the men’s side, not so much. Hockey is our game. Yes, we should win the gold. EVERY TIME. We did, but only by the slimmest of margins. An overtime winner against the US? Well, we made it closer than it needed to be.

Maybe my mother-in-law is on to something. Living in the armpit of NS, she assumes that any crime news from “the Mainland” means that we should be ducking and wrapping her grandchildren in flak jackets. That’s just Halifax I say, and only certain neighbourhoods. Well, some nut plugged a car in a driveway with two bullets the other night. In Mahone Bay! Sure he is an idiot who was drunk, but it was awfully close to two homes with young children. The news said that this moron was being charged for breaching a court order as well as the intoxication and firearms charges. Maybe court orders should come with some stiffer penalties. Oh I don’t know. Maybe something like having a car shot at twice with the person who breached the order sitting inside.

Ringo and his minions have gotten rid of the $1050 per month that MLA’s could spend without providing receipts. Ringo said he used the money to give to the less fortunate at Christmas. Othes just spent it on whatever they wanted. Now they can’t. Unless they have receipts. So they can’t, but they can, if they remember to get a receipt. Easy on bottles of wine, not so easy for Ringo and his Santa suit. Boy are these guys and gals really knuckling down to fix the problem. A paper trail. That’s the ticket. Good work all!

It looks as though my friend Chris may have been part of his own demise. He had just started a new drug. The day he died. I did some research and that drug should not be used by anyone with heart disease. His family doctor knew he shouldn’t be on it, but he didn’t tell the specialist that prescribed it that he was being tested for coronary heart disease. Tell your physcians everything. They can’t help you if you decide what information is important and what isn’t. Its not your call. I wish I had looked that drug up that day he showed it to me. I was going to, but then something more important came up and I didn’t. Something important. It was sooooo important that I can’t even remember it now. Damn it.

I remain,

A Sour Kraut