Britain is often heralded by American gun control advocates as the paragon of sense and sensibility. Following the grizzly shooting of kindergarten children in Dunblane, Scotland by a crazed lunatic, the Brits enacted one of the strictest gun control regimes in the western hemisphere. Aside from the obvious emotional appeal, the new regulations were based largely on the testimony of experts who claimed that restricting access to a broad array of firearms, even to law abiding sportsmen and collectors, would go a long way to solving the country’s growing problem with violent crime. Judging from the ever escalating crime rates in the UK over the past decade, it seems that the expertly derived correlation between crime and gun ownership is faulty at best.

Despite the absence of guns, Brits have not quenched their thirst for a bloody stabbing every now and then. According to numerous media reports, hospitals across the country are treating a growing number of patients for wounds and lacerations resulting from knife attacks. In a bid to stem the tide of recreational stabbing victims flooding their emergency rooms, a group of doctors is calling for, you guessed it, knife control , particularly for those of the long, pointy and sharp variety. Armed with recently published scholarly articles from the British Medical Journal, the doctors say their research proves that “legislation to ban the sale of long pointed knives would be a key step in the fight against violent crime”. Sound familiar?

Another Canadian Political Drama Update>>

And so there may not be an election after all…

Belinda Stronach, billionaire heiress, one time candidate for the Conservative Party leadership, and leading contender to become Canada’s first MILF Prime Minister, dealt a crippling blow the Tories’ efforts to unseat the government by defecting to the Liberals yesterday. Her surprise move shifted the balance of power in the House of Commons, leaving the party coalitions in a virtual tie. As her reward, PM Paul Martin named Stronach as Human Resources Minister, a powerful cabinet post which involves overseeing the country’s mammoth Employment Insurance agency and a host of other plum social programs.

In a side note, there’s no word on what effect Belinda’s defection will have on her budding romance with Deputy Conservative Party leader Peter MacKay. It seems in the cruel game of politics ambition trumps love.

In a sad follow-up to my infamous thesis regarding the sanity (or lack thereof) of the Ontario electorate, the latest Leger Marketing poll confirms that the Liberal Party has not only solidified their base of support in the province, they now lead the Conservatives by 12 points. With the government expected to collapse any day now, Ontario voters are clearly signalling their intent to re-elect the Liberals.

With that, I maintain my stance that voters in Ontario who choose to vote Liberal despite the torrent of scandalous testimony at the Gomery Inquiry suffer from a virulent strain of hysterical lunacy.

NEWS FLASH>> “I’m Rick James, Bitch!” : Dave Chappelle Checks into Looney Bin

I’m a little pissed that Dave’s brilliant Rick James impression has become a catch phrase of sorts. Once something like that gets added to the lexicon it loses its hip appeal.

My cousin Jerry would have been 34 today. I say “would have been” because 13 years ago he made the unfortunate decision to hang himself. The circumstances surrounding his death were controversial due to the fact that it occurred while he was in custody at the local jail following his arrest at the scene of a snowmobiling accident. I don’t recall the full story, but I suspect alcohol or drugs were involved.

Tragic as it was, when I was told of his death I wasn’t entirely surprised. Jerry was a bright kid, and a good guy at heart. However, as Uncle Fred often said, he was a product of his environment: the low income government housing projects in our hometown. As he entered adolescence, my cousin fell prey to the wayward lures of the projects, namely alcohol, drugs, and thievery. It wasn’t long before the happy-go-lucky kid I grew up with changed his whole persona, becoming nearly consumed by his demons, always looking for the next party, the next binge drinking session, the next hit of acid. After a while, I had to stop associating with him altogether. Fending off his relentless requests to pinch money to get bombed or high or both became exhausting, not to mention disheartening.

My last conversation with Jerry was a week before he died, while I was a freshman at university. He called to ask if he could visit me and check out the campus, more specifically, the campus party scene. I stonewalled, telling him my school was more of a cerebral place than an Animal House type of college. It was a white lie and he knew it, but he finally got the hint. For a while I felt badly about how we left things, especially in light of the event that followed.

It’s not much of a remembrance, I know. Just a few words to mark the occasion. Rest in peace, Jerry.