The Man In The Arena

Given this is two days after Remembrance Day and is municipal election day, and given that many honest and true people will have run for election unsuccessfully after being whipped by powerful (leftwing) campaigns I offer Teddy Roosevelt's famous speech made in Paris on April 23, 1910:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Shame on the man of cultivated taste who permits refinement to develop into fastidiousness that unfits him for doing the rough work of a workaday world. Among the free peoples who govern themselves there is but a small field of usefulness open for the men of cloistered life who shrink from contact with their fellows.
Still less room is there for those who deride of slight what is done by those who actually bear the brunt of the day; nor yet for those others who always profess that they would like to take action, if only the conditions of life were not exactly what they actually are. The man who does nothing cuts the same sordid figure in the pages of history, whether he be a cynic, or fop, or voluptuary.
There is little use for the being whose tepid soul knows nothing of great and generous emotion, of the high pride, the stern belief, the lofty enthusiasm, of the men who quell the storm and ride the thunder. Well for these men if they succeed; well also, though not so well, if they fail, given only that they have nobly ventured, and have put forth all their heart and strength.
It is war-worn Hotspur, spent with hard fighting, he of the many errors and valiant end, over whose memory we love to linger, not over the memory of the young lord who "but for the vile guns would have been a valiant soldier."

Why Cats are Better Than Ants...

Little off theme, but then again, having laboured for six months to overthrow a government, I am whimsical this evening...
Henry Gibson said, "because they don't squish when you pet them."
Also, because they maintain their dignity, with poop on their paws, or just having fallen off a chair, or having knocked over a vase. We don't notice ant poop, can't see them drop off a chair, and they can upend only very small vases.
Aha, the tory-poli-link - Liberal leadership candidates find it impossible to maintain their dignity. This post is hereby justified...
Two cats shed more hair than a whole herd of wildebeests, eat more that a murder of crows and crap more in a day than the world's population of ants.
Cats demand attention far more than ants. And show their high regard for this better. And demand it much more.
Ants can lift hundreds of times their own weight, but cats are smart enough not to not to even try this when they have these sasquatchs around that feed and groom them and lift anything heavy that needs to be lifted.
Cats are smart little buggers.
Any other cat fanciers out there that care to build on this?

The End of the World as I Know It

Dems get elected, Al Qaeda claims victory.
Wandering through the streets of Toronto, and hearing that David Miller was a virtual lock to win as Mayor, and after thinking through what will likely happen in the Middle East with a real Nancy in charge of the House and the Dems running the Senate, I decided to give up and enjoy things while I can.
Toronto's traffic will be standing still, I will continue to get about $200 / month in tickets for parking in front of my own house, I will be getting even more nasty yellow notes from my garbage collector for desposing of more than 20km of wet waste and not following all the recycling rules, the bums will not hesitate to knock on my door to beg for money - it's their right (doncha know). Toronto will become more like Belgrade.
I'll steer clear of the subway, tall buildings and large collections of people because the islamofreaks will be bringing the war to us.
So, I'm gonna drink up and be merry.

Meanwhile, John Moore on CFRB is having a special celebrating veterans from WW2. Which is good. But then he slaps around all those who celebrate the attempts to do for Iraq and Afstan what we did for the French, Germans and Dutch, et al fifty odd years ago.
Ain't this finely hypcritical.