HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1995-09-13, Page 5International Scene
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THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1995. PAGE 5.
Dipping into
the dumb crook file
The time has come, my friends to dip once
again into the Dumb Crooks File. That is
where your obedient scrivener keeps his
collection of recent news reports illustrating
the proposition that citizens of the outlaw
persuasion are not all that bright. That
felonious folk are not evil geniuses or
Machiavellian masterminds. That they more
often fall into a corner of history's dustbin
reserved for idiots, dunderheads, buffoons
and chowderbrains with a lower collective
I.Q. than a sackful of turnips.
Examples? Just about everywhere you
look. Last week's copy of The International
Herald Tribune for instance, which carried
the sad tale of Gerald Lyndell Voyles.
Mister Voyles, a native Floridian, recently
turned up before the desk of the sheriff of
Bartow, Florida. He was there to collect a
$3,000 reward, he said. A reward that was
being offered for the apprehension of a man
wanted for murder.
A man by the name of ... Gerald Lyndell
Voyles.
That's right — gormless Gerald_ actually
expected to collect the bounty that had been
placed on his own head.
"We believe he was serious about the
reward" opined the sheriff. "He will not be
Gas price jumps,
infuriating
to consumers
Have you ever noticed that, when the price
of gasoline goes up at one pumping station,
it invariably goes up at all the others. This is
nothing less than infuriating to consumers
since the jump may be a considerable one; if
you wait a day to fill up your tank, you may
end up paying $2 - $3 more for the fill-up.
The immediate reaction is that there is
some price-fixing going on and more than
one politician has attempted to garner his or
her share of the limelight by making such an
accusation.
When I have approached the oil
companies on this matter, their answers have
been nothing short of vague, with reference
being made to such things as local
competition, production costs, about
everything in fact but global warming.
The answer is, I believe, not quite so
simple. The fact remains that the gasoline
you buy is produced by an international
company; there is no such thing as a
company which gets all its oil from
Canadian wells, produces gasoline and other
products in Canada but nowhere else and
sells its entire output on Canadian markets.
Even the small, independent firms who seem
to be able to sell gas slightly less than the
petroleum giants such as Shell or Exxon, do
eligible."
Proceed directly to jail, Gerald and don't
even think of passing Go.
A convict named Hubert Schurr was a
'ittle more enterprising than Voyles, but not
a whole lot swifter. Schurr managed to break
out of a penitentiary on the outskirts of
Hamburg, Germany last month. Schurr made •
it to the shoulder of an Autobahn, clambered
up to the roadway and stuck out his thumb.
Schurr was one lift away from
disappearing into the, ahem, tenderloin
district of Hamburg — and look! A car is
slowing down, pulling off to the side of the
road! Exultant, Schurr yanks open the
passenger door, preparing to thank the driver
...only to find himself staring into the
unamused puss of one Gerhard Stroh,
warden of the joint Schurr had escaped from.
Schurr got a lift alright, but it involved a
U-turn.
Another German crook — convicted bank
robber Heinrich Kroiss — escaped from a
German maximum security prison at about
the same time. He was arrested three days
later, but he had a perfectly reasonable
explanation: he hadn't escaped at all. He'd
been kidnapped by space aliens.
Beam me up Herr Scotty. There's no
intelligent life here.
And a case of fumbling felony much
closer to home — in Moncton, New
Brunswick, where Susan Stokes recently
found herself in the dock. Ms Stokes had run
not have a single square meter of refining
capacity; they buy all their product from one
of the big companies who may or may not
deliver it in an unmarked truck.
Sometimes the gasoline may pass through
two or more of the big companies. I ran into
an example recently where the gas was
bought and sold by no less than three
companies before it found itself on the way
to the consumer. To complicate the matter
even further, the company that fmally put it
up for sale to consumers was the same one
which owned it in the first place.
Now, how do you price that bit of gas?
I have come to the conclusion that the gas
that we buy has no specific price week-in
and week-out. It is probably safe to say that
by and large the oil companies do not make
any money at all on gasoline; if there is a
profit to be made it is collected on other
petroleum based products.
If Europe is any criteria, most of the
companies do not even make money on their
refineries. Shell and Exxon, the two largest
firms, are operating at about 80 per cent of
capacity while Petrofina is lucky to do much
better than 20 per cent. The others, such as
Mobil, or British Petroleum, are somewhere
in between.
If there are too many refineries, and there
are, why not get rid of some of them. The
main reason against such a move appears to
be the unwillingness of the oil companies to
give up any part of their business. They have
been vertically integrated, which is to say,
they take part in each level of the oil
business, and they are loath to give up any
part of this.
To a degree this has been conditioned by
afoul of a section of the Criminal Code
which targets anyone "pretending to use
witchcraft, sorcery, enchantment or
conjuration" to separate gullible citizens
from their shekels.
But plainly, Susan Stokes was posing as a
fortune teller and taking money for her
'predictions'.
It wasn't a big deal — the judge only ding-
ed her 25 bucks or one day in jail.
But then, if Ms Stokes had been any good
as a fortune teller she would have foreseen
the impending arrest and spent the day in
bed with the covers pulled over her head.
So the score is now, what? Justice 4,
Crooks 0?
I'll leave you with the tale of 'Steve', a
desperado who proves the Bad Guys aren't
always as dumb as dirt.
'Steve' is a chap who phoned up the
security office at Philadelphia International
Airport recently. He was "in maintenance"
he explained. He had to do some work on
the Automatic Teller Machines for the next
hour or so, so they should just ignore the
security alarm if it happened to go off.
The alarm went off ... the security guards
yawned and worked on their doughnuts.
A passing citizen finally called police and
a squad of uniforms eventually arrived to
investigate.
They found the door to the cash dispenser
swaying in the breeze.
Fifty thousand dollars are missing.
Steve was too.
the oil producing countries who are more
prepared to sell their oil to companies who
can not only explore for it but can refine and
sell it commercially.
Given the vagaries of the industry, the
same companies are anxious to keep and
even increase their market share. It is this
desire which, as much as anything,
conditions the price that you pay for gas at
your local pump. Some excuse can be fed to
the public but the world "market share"
never enters into the publicity.
Don't forget that the true price of gas is
disguised by the hefty government taxes
which are levied on every litre which we
buy. This varies from country to country and
does more than anything else to set the price
which car owners have to pay.
We talk about cheap gas in the States and
it certainly is a bargain over there but have
you looked at prices in Europe lately? Don't
tell me that refining costs are much higher
over there than here.
In short, the multinational oil companies
are not getting rich off the sale of gasoline.
Their policy, if it can be called that, seems to
be of a knee-jerk variety. Perhaps one reason
the companies have never been able to
explain it to my satisfaction is that they are
not sure themselves.
What do I do? If I think that the price is
coming down, I just fill the tank to about the
50 per cent level. If I think it has gone down
about as far as it is going to, I make sure it is
filled to the brim.
Do I always win? No, but I like to think
that I win more than I lose. In such a
complex world, one needs these little
victories.
The
Short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
The best of the ,best
It takes all kinds and I think I've met them
all.
One thing about working for a community
newspaper I've discovered, you certainly do
come into contact with a wide assortment of
people — the good, the bad and the ugly
dispositioned.
Of the good, I have met many people of
diverse talents. I have talked to them in
theatres, schoolrooms and amidst cow
patties. I have been approached by those
special, and all too rare, individuals whom,
in giving the simple gift of a positive
comment, can brighten a gloomy spirit.
And the spirit can get gloomy indeed in
this job. In addition to meeting the best of
humankind, we all too often must deal with
the less than best. There is of couse, the bad,
the folks who spend most of their time on
the wrong side of the law, but they are
actually only a small part of the negative. It
is the latter group I mentioned, the whining,
puling, complaining ogres, who see
conspiracy in oversights and are only to
pleased to find fault, that we run into most
often. Like erosion their negativity chips
away at you until they almost bring you
down to their level.
Fortunately, though their numbers seem to
be fewer, there is yet another group of
people we encounter who can shore up your
faith in the species with the strength of their
selfless courage.
Last week I visited with Aimee Leishman,
a bubbly, endearing eight-year-old, who as
an infant was diagnosed with a malignant
tumor. Now well for seven years, Aimee
volunteered to be the team member for
Brussels' Terry Fox Run.
Of those early months in Aimee's life, her
mother remembers that despite pain and
debilitating sickness from chemotherapy, the
little girl never complained, never even
cried. Even today, putting up with regular
blood tests and CAT scans, which require
this active youngster to lay completely still
for 25 minutes is viewed as a twice yearly
inconvenience she accepts, made easier by
the fact that her mom comes with her to hold
her hand and read her stories.
More amazing, given the 'me' attitude
prevalent today, not once during my
conversation with her mom did I hear the
words, "Why me? Why my child?" Actually
the sentiments expressed were those of
gratitude for their friends, family and for the
blessed gift of Aimee, in addition to a
commitment to the vision of Terry Fox.
It was while recovering from the
amputation of his leg due to bone cancer in
1977, that Fox developed the idea for his
"Marathon of Hope", a run across the
country to raise money and generate
publicity for cancer research. He began his
run in Newfoundland on April 12, 1980 and
covered 5,373 km before lung cancer
stopped him, but not his dream, in
September. He was an inspiration, a true
hero who faced almost overwhelming
adversity with grace and determination.
When discussing Aimee's decision to be
team member for the Brussels Terry Fox
Run, her mother said she was glad her
daughter had volunteered, because the "run
wouldn't be the same if someone didn't give
it a personal aspect."
Every once in a while it is good for the
rest of us, who often forget life's pleasures,
to be reminded that there are still people
who care about others, who endure without
complaint, who give without asking for
anything in return.
Arthur Black