Summer Re-run

When I started this blog eleven years ago, I told readers that from time to time I would rerun posts if I didn't have the time or the material to post a new one.

In light of how climate-changey 2023 has been, I thought I'd repost some of my dispatches from December 2015, when I was in Paris as the world negotiated the Climate Accord. 

Over the coming weeks, I will send out three posts about the COP: this one from the beginning, one with excerpts from several days in the middle, and one from the end. 

The COP was eight years ago, and oh, what a lost opportunity those eight years have been.

COP - Day Two 

For the second day of COP, I took it upon myself to be the LEAST bright-eyed and bushy tailed I could be, and to be late for my very first meeting with Environment and Climate Change Canada.

To achieve the first objective, I asked for "decaf" at a cafe last night and they very clearly decided to ignore that request. The drink they brought me kept me up all night.

I also walked too much for too long last night and really irritated my hip [editor's note: this was eight months before my hip surgery.]

So, wide awake until four a.m. from caffeine and random joint pain, I'd had two hours or so of sleep when I opened my eyes and said quietly to myself, "God DAMMIT, I have to be at the COP venue in TWO HOURS."

To achieve the second objective (being late), I got myself cleaned up, had a protein bar for breakfast, limped half a block to the subway station and ... took the wrong train.

Getting myself turned around took me the best part of fifteen minutes, which is exactly how late I was for the meeting. Phooey.

Anyway, it was the first day of official negotiations and all the plans laid for how the talks would proceed had already gone awry because there was too much to talk about in too little time.

I know why there is not enough time.

First of all, no meeting called by the Parties to negotiate ever starts on schedule. People mill about and gossip and check their phones and fiddle with their other electronic equipment and wander off to engage in different gossip with different people and finally get around to starting the meeting long after it was supposed to ... everything is at least 30 minutes behind.

Second, people are long-winded and inarticulate in stating their positions. Bolivia doesn't say, on behalf of the G77, "Developing countries believe that developed countries should foot the bill for adapting to climate change."

No, Bolivia says, "Madame chair, thank you for the opportunity to (two second pause) I don't want to seem like not a gentleman because I am always the person speaking first (two second pause) but (two second pause) the first section of this paragraph (two second pause) I mean, believe me, I leave myself in your hands (three second pause) but the countries on whose behalf I am speaking (two second pause) the realities are that there is a feeling (two second pause) and I must respectfully not (two second pause) my colleague (three second pause) the United States (five second pause) we believe a different outcome would better serve the meaning of the text here."

And then Bolivia will say more or less the same thing three or four times.

This went on for most of the morning, and then for a few hours in the afternoon. It was around three p.m., and another G77 spokesperson was taking forever to say "Let's divide into drafting teams," when I'd had enough.

I was exhausted, in a lot of pain, and dangerously on the brink of an international incident, so I gathered all my stuff ... my coat, my cane, my iPad, my iPad charger, my phone, my long-strapped purse I carry my important stuff in to frustrate pickpockets ... and got the hell out.

I did not get lost on the way back to my hotel and I did not have coffee at my evening meal. I am also planning on not spending so much time at the negotiation sessions tomorrow.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Remember when Canada had three women premiers?
Justin Trudeau's first COP, with Rachel Notley, Premier of AB, Christie Clark Premier of BC, 
Kathleen Wynne Premier of ON, Phillips Coulliard Premier of QC, Brad Wall, Premier of SK

We're All Millennials - Part II

On Yonge Street north of St. Clair:
new bells for Yorkminster Park Baptist Church

I got the annual invoice for my condo insurance the other day. The price seemed to have gone up quite a lot from last year. I checked. It had. By more than $150.00. They wanted me to pay $870 for coverage that, back when I started buying home insurance, cost less than $300.* 

I have never changed my insurance company, but, over the years, my insurance company has changed on me, as bigger companies consumed smaller ones and then merged with other big companies. 

Most recently, INTACT absorbed my insurer.

It never mattered whose logo was on my yearly invoice. I can't say I ever felt like I was treated like a person, or that the random broker I connected with each year knew or cared anything about me. 

Every year when I asked them if I wasn't being over-insured, I got patronizing explanations for why my coverage could not be changed, but they could offer me a better rate if I insured my car with them. Every year I told them I'd never owned a car. 

Last year INTACT took away a discount I used to get for being mortgage free. They explained the discount applied only if I had a real home. Condos, evidently, aren't real homes.

For as long as Bruce and I have had a roof over our heads, I have put up with this nonsense.

But, the form letter INTACT sent this year, telling me I'd get a better deal if I also insured my car, and charging me 18% more than last year, motivated me to look online for alternatives.

My expectations weren't high as I googled "condo insurance." I'd looked the year before and found prices were not all that different. So you can imagine my surprise when I found a policy this time for $350.00.  I'm going to say that again: I could get exactly the amount of insurance I wanted for $500 less than what INTACT was going to charge me.

I had one last conversation with a random INTACT broker, and cancelled my policy.

Let's check for signs of millennialism. I was dissatisfied with the status quo (✔️), wanted the lowest price possible (✔️), and was annoyed with the grown up at INTACT (✔️) who not only lectured me about changing my insurance provider (✔️) but who also called me "dear" (✔️). 

In case you're wondering, my new insurer is Square One. They don't sell automobile insurance. 

Thanks for reading.

Karen

*I'm claim free. 

Some Rights Reserved

I sent this picture to the new mayor of Toronto. The house is right across the street from mine and is the property of the Toronto Community Housing Corporation, the public housing agency for the City of Toronto. It's a beautiful Victorian duplex with a new roof and new windows. While homelessness has grown and grown, it has sat empty since 2018. 

I've been fooling around with ChatGPT, the artificial intelligence "large language model." Scraping the Internet for information, ChatGPT produces work that can pass for human. 

I know everyone else talked about this months ago. I'm comfortable in the position of person who has missed the bandwagon. 

The most commonly-heard concern about ChatGPT was that no student would ever again write their own work, meaning there would be no more heart-warming stories like this one, told by Anne Lamott:

Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write, which was due the next day. ... [He] was at the kitchen table close to tears ... immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird."

Nowadays all her brother would have to do is ask for a summary of the characteristics and habits of, say, cardinals, and get this actual answer from ChatGPT:

Cardinals are striking songbirds known for their vibrant red plumage. Males display the iconic crimson hue, while females boast more subdued colors. These territorial birds inhabit woodlands, gardens, and shrublands across North America. They are adept singers, filling the air with melodious tunes. Cardinals mate for life, forming strong pair bonds. They primarily feed on seeds, fruits, and insects, and their diet expands during breeding season to include caterpillars for their young. Cardinals are year-round residents in many areas, providing a delightful presence in nature's tapestry.

The old-fashioned used of language ("melodious tunes"; "nature's tapestry") would cue the teacher that the passage was not the work of a grade five student. But you get the picture. The Internet has already changed how everyone finds information. ChatGPT takes it a bit further and more or less guarantees that no ten-year-old will be quite as tortured by his homework as was Anne Lamott's big brother. 

As for work more nuanced than grade school reports, such as poems or jokes, ChatGPT doesn't quite seem to have the hang of it. At least not yet.

Allow me to demonstrate.

Here's a poem that comes from the dark recesses of the folk tradition. It was one of my father's favourites:

Starkle Starkle little twink
Who the hell you are I think
I'm not under what you call
The affluence of incahol
I'm just a little slort of sheep

I'm not drunk like tinkle peep
I don't know who is me yet
But the drunker I stand here
The longer I get
Just give me one more drink 
To full my cup
'Cuz I've got all day sober 
To Sunday up 

Here's what ChatGPT came up with when asked to write twelve lines of humorous poetry to follow "starkle starkle little twink":

Starkle starkle, little twink,
Embark on a witty rhyme I think.
In the realm of humor, we shall roam,
Where chuckles and laughter find their home.
Giggles and grins, let's set them free,
With verses quirky and full of glee.
Tickle funny bones, make spirits soar,
From this silly rhyme, laughs will pour.
Like a clown juggling pies in the air,
These lines will bring joy beyond compare.
So let's share a chuckle, have some fun, 
With this poetic jest, we're not yet done!

Like I said, nothing to worry about.

As for the title of this post, Chat GPT mines existing copyrighted material to come up with its responses. Anything that is on this blog that I wrote myself is my copyright, but I can't claim copyright on the ChatGPT stuff.

Super clear, I know.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

A**holes

Pretty piece of cloisonné, Musee D'Orsay, February 2023 

Someone I follow on Facebook posted a link to Assholes: A Theory, a Canadian documentary film based on the book of the same name by the American philosophy professor, Aaron James.

If you've got 74 minutes to spare, I would recommend you watch it, not because the "theory" is anything new, but because of the examples it uses to make its point: Rob Ford, Silvio Berlusconi, obnoxious surfers, hedge fund managers, Internet trolls and the RCMP.

Everyone knows what makes a person an asshole ... an oblivious sense of entitlement that manifests in rude, selfish, and mean behaviour.

Most everyone will admit that they act like an asshole every once in a while (I know I do). But only true assholes never regret it, or apologize, or, really, even notice. 

Which is to say that perspective matters.

For example, one day I was crossing on foot eastbound at Jarvis and King streets, and a guy in a big black Lexus, anxious to get on with his very important day, turned off King and obstructed the pedestrian crosswalk to join the unmoving queue of traffic southbound on Jarvis.

To get by, I had to squeeze between his bumper and the bumper of the car in front of him. I looked him in the eye through his windshield and mouthed the word "asshole." I didn't yell at him; I didn't hammer my fists on the hood of his car. I just shared my opinion of him, in case he wondered at all. 

Crossing the street the other way was a man, maybe about thirty-five or forty, dressed in a natty blue suit that looked like it needed to be pressed.

He said to me just as I passed him, "you're an asshole."

He spoke so softly I barely heard him, but there was no question he was speaking to me.

I'd just had one unpleasant experience with a stranger and wasn't interested in having any more that day, so I kept walking.

But that was weird. I'd just witnessed someone I'm going to assume was an asshole rising to the defence of another asshole from someone he clearly thought was an asshole. 

Next thing you know, the assholes will be making a documentary about us.

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Stolen bicycle parts in
the Allan Gardens encampment. 

Worst Mayor Ever

Elevator door signage, B1 Level, St. Michael's Hospital.
Three of the four elevators were out of service. I waited there a long time, hoping they would reinvent the patient experience soon.

Readers last week may have noticed that on the Saturday of the Pride weekend, and two days before Toronto's mayoral election, I mentioned neither, opting instead to share a very interesting story about my kitchen floor.

For the former, I offer up a belated heartfelt Happy Pride!!!!!

For the latter, well, the votes have been counted and, in case you haven't heard, Olivia Chow is the new mayor of Toronto.

Of course I voted, and, for the first time in years, I voted for the guy who won!

The one time I didn't vote was in the 2010 municipal election, when the late Rob Ford became mayor of Toronto. 

Ford won by twelve points, so, I don't think it's because I didn't vote that he became mayor.

But I've never taken that chance again. I felt disgusted and embarrassed the night Rob Ford was elected. As his incompetence and addictions came to light, those feelings just grew.

I didn't feel disgusted or embarrassed after this election. Everyone agrees Chow's smart and tough. 

But I don't have any illusions. 

Still I had to laugh when, just before the election, Doug Ford, Rob's brother, took to the airwaves and decried the "unmitigated disaster" that would rain down upon the city were Olivia Chow to be elected.

Ford was just talking trash in the heat of the moment (and I assume someone on his team helped him with "unmitigated"). But, just to be clear, the reigning title holder for Worst Mayor Ever is and will always be Rob Ford. 

Chow may have her work cut out for her, but at least she's fit for the job. 

Happy Canada Day!

Karen

Just a tiny fraction of the encampment mess in
the Allan Gardens, right around the corner from
my home. I have no illusions that this terrible
situation will be fixed soon, but the new Mayor
and all her colleagues on council will be hearing 
from me until it is.