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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes Advocate, 1989-12-06, Page 4Page 4 Times -Advocate, December 6, 1989 Times Established 1873 Advocate Established 1881 Amalgamated 1924 Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario, NOM 1S0 Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386. / — Phone 519.235.1331 I MiesPCNA ccw ROSS HAUGH • JIM BECKETT Editor • Publisher & Adsertising Manager HARR', DEVRIES CION SMITH . CoMposition Manager Business Manager SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada: $27.00 Per year; U.S.A. $68.00 What's the big deal? t made .great headlines for a week and was great fodder for irate Opposition party spokes- man but (you'll excuse the pun), stripped of the rhetoric the great strip club. scan- dalwas greatly overblown, according to The Citizen, Blyth. The .issue of the Federal Business De- velopment (FBDB) loaning money to several establishments that later turned out to be strip clubs had something for everybody the opposition parties could have tried to please. Those who see the government as being one big waster of money could get their worst fears con- firmed by seeing millions of taxpayer dollars going to finance these , sleazy businesses. People of a religious back- ground could -get upset •of the decline of morality that sees the government fund- ing dens of sin. Supporters of the wom- en's movement (no, not women's move- ments you chauvinist) could be insulted - at the government seeming to give ap- proval to the degradation of women. And all these groups, and the opposi- tion and the newspaper editorialists would be right. It's a little silly to be us- ing government_ money to help get busi- nesses started that we may not be too proud to have in 'our communities in the long run. But it's easy to point out these FBDB loans for scorn. It's easy to see the unde- sirability of these businesses. How many other government -backed loans have gone to support businesses that may be doing a lot more harm than putting naked women on display in front of sla- vering. male customers? How many gov- ernment dollars have been used .over the years to fuild pulp and paper mills that spewed millions of f gallons of pollutants into our waters? How many chemical plants have received government aid, then left toxic waste dumps around to leak into the water system? How many other companies getting loans today are still doing things that threaten the -future of. our planet, not just the virtue of the men and women who attend these sleazy night spots. If the opposition and the • media really, want scandal, let them dig a little deeper and see where money has 'really•been used in a harmful way. HAVE AN OPINION? The Times Advocate welcomes letters to the editor. They must be signed and should be accompanied by a telephone number and address should we need to clarify any information. The newspaper also reserves the right to edit letters. Letters can be dropped off at the Times Advocate Office or mailed to: Exeter Times Advocate Box 850, Exeter, Ontario NOM 1S6 Cecil and the pistachio We can't have a dog or cat, be- cause Alexander is allergic to them. As a result, mice from all over the township migrate to our house, to make it their home. They're cute little rodents, and I might tolerate them if I lived here alone. But Elizabeth com- plains when the mice eat more flour or cereal than we do. And the exchange goods they leave behind have no commercial val- ue whatever. So I set my traps. Actually one trap is all I need on an average day. I have trained the mice to be (ex)terminated in the base- ment fruit room, up 'on a ledge, where it is practical for mc. Usu- ally they cooperate. Once in a while I encounter a mousetrap engineer, one with either a talent or an education. I lack experience as a mouse sexer. So 1 imitate the folks re- sponsible .for hurricane: I alter- nate between boys' and girls' names, beginning with the first mouse caught every month. The first December mouse was An- gus, the second Bertha. This is the story of Cecil, the mousetrap engineer. After 1 removed Bertha (an easy catch), I baited the trap as usual: a bit of Kraft peanut but- ter on' and under the lure plate. When I checked on Sunday moming (after breakfast), I found thc peanut butter was gone. 'Another one of those," I grumbled, and reset the trap. Us- ing a flick my father-in-law taught me, I pushed an almond sliver right inside the hollow un- der the lure plate. Then I re- placed the peanut butter, and set the guillotine with only a milli- meter's worth of play. When I checked on Monday morning, I could hardly believe my eyes. Cecil had licked• the plate clean and managed to pull out the almond without spring the trap. • Extriordinery mice call for ex- traordinary measures. I tightly jammed another piece of almond into the hollow from the left, and a half a raisin from the tight. I covered everything with an un- usually generous amount of creamy peanut butter. Then I set the guillotine with such preci- sion that a falling hair would have triggered it. I couldn't wait to meet Cecil. I have a lot of respect for mice that manage to escape more than once. Clearly, Cecil was a pro. 1 don't usually check my traps in the daytime. Mice work hard all night, and they need their rest when the scant daylight filters through the basement windows. But J was curious to see just how greedy an individual I was dealing with. I found the trap'on the floor. Sprung. Minus peanut butter, almond and raisin. No sign of Cecil, who was probably watching me from a crack in the wall, snickering. To make matters worse, Eliza- beth informed me that "the mice" had gnawed a hole into a bag of flour in the pantry, as well as leaving "evidence" on the kitchen counter. This was war. I h'ad to show Cecil (and Elizabeth) who was master of the house. I repeated the procedure of the morning, this time using a piece of pistachio instead of almond. I spread peanut butter all over the trap - lure plate, spring, wooden base, everything. Trying to set the guillotine, I almost lost a fin- ger, when it closed on me. Too much weight on the plate. I tried two or three more times and fi- nally adjusted the deadly con- traption to zero tolerance. I also figured that Cecil must be putting on weight from all the good food he (or she?) was get- ting. I checked again in the eve- ning: everything was as I had left it. Cecil was either asleep or just not hungry. Or maybe he had died of natural causes - like overeating. Tuesday moming I went into the .fruit room before breakfast. There on the floor, under the trap, I spotted Cecil's white bel- ly. I turned the trap over. Before being clobbered, Cecil had eaten all the peanut butter and suc- cessfully extracted the pistachio as well as the raisin. "I'm sorry I had to do this. Ce- cil," I said. "Using a pistachio is not really playing the game. You were a clever mouse, a credit to your species." I refused to dis- pose of Cecil in the same gar- bage can where Angus and Ber- tha were awaiting interment. I took the spade and gave him a decent burial under the big spruce tree. "Rest in peace, Cecil," I said. "You were a lot of trouble, but you did what you had td do." And I set the trap for Doris. Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1373 Published by I.W. Eedy Publications limited Worth a lot A recent article in the Toronto Star reminded us of information we gained during this past sum- mer's trip to Eastern Canada. While on a four hour trip of St. John, New Brunswick, the bus driver seemed to delight` in pointing out the many service stations, oil refineries, pulp mills and a shipyard owned by one family. He was referring to K.C. Ir- ving, the owner of much of New Brunswick who was recently listed in Forbes magazine as the fourth richest man in the world. He is reputed to be worth about $9.35 billion. Irving is a very influential man. New Brunswick residents buy gasoline from Irving service stations, gasoline that came from Irving refineries. They are employed in Irving pulp mills, paper mills, sawmills and steel- works. Tliey look on as new naval frigates are constructed in Irving. shipyards. They learn of many of the family afairs through Ir- vint-owned newspapers and tele- vision and radio stations. Despite all of this, Irving doesn't always get what he wants. Recently, the -New Brunswick Motor Carrier Board turned down his two sons, who now op- erate the Irving empire when one of their trucking companies applied for a new business li- cence. The hearing was held to con- sider an application from an Ir- ving trucking company, named Sunbury Transport for an unre- stricted trucking licence. Cur- rently, Sunbury can only carry forest products and construction From the editor's disk by Ross Haugh 113 materials. Midland Transport, another Ir- ving company is licensed to car- ry all cargo. Sunbury's try for an unrestrict- ed nrestricted licence brought cries of foul from other truckers, claiming they would face unfair competi- tion. They argued that Irving truck- ing companies carry all of Ir- ving's very considerable freight. Non -Irving truckers are seldom, if ever allowed to try for this business. Independent compa- nies are left to compete only for non -Irving business. Testimony before the board re- vealed that Irving -owned com- panies shipping forest products or construction materials,' pay very high rates to Irving -owned transport companies. Because they charge high rates for their own freight, Irving trucks can handle non -Irving freight for very low rates. That gives tham a big advantage over smaller companies. While the carrier board accept- ed the fact Irving companies do pay "artificially high" rates to Sunbury, they stressed there was nothing wrong with the practice. But, they ruled that granting an expanded licence to Sunbury would "likely result in abuse of market power," lessen competi- tion and would not be in the public interest. The application was refused. How do the Irvings escape the damage of paying high rates to their own truckers? That's easy. Federal taxpayers pay a subsidy on freight shipped out of the Atlantic region to cen- tral Canada and it amounts to 30 percent of the cost of trucking goods from their point of origin to Levis, across the St. Law- rence River from Quebec City. For finished goods, the subsidy is 50 percent. The two Irving trucking firms, Sunbury and Midland received $4.6 million in federal subsidies for the year ending March 31, 1988. That was the second high- est total in the region. Who was the highest? A truck- ing firm named Day and Ross collected over $5.3 million. Day and Ross is owned by another nice little family business mak- ing french fries and other foods. That's right, the name is McCain. Thought of the Week: It's much better to give than receive - and it's also deductible. Oh no... it's my dad • You can never tell how par- ents are going to grow up. My mom and dad seemed to be doing well. All the positive signs of a normal adjustment to middle age were there. Once upon a time, their idea of a vacation was a leisurely drive through the middle of Malaya. Now that they've grown up, they prefer large hotels on tropical beaches where natives provide continuous food and entertain- ment. • ' Dad began to get the urge to give up family sedans for a two- seater sports car with pop-up headlights. He finally found one to his liking. It all seemed perfectly normal. So where did I go wrong? Following in my grandfather's footsteps, Dad joined the church choir, then graduated to one of those "ethnic" singing groups. It didn't matter that Dad had only lived a few months in Wales; he liked thc music and enjoyed. singing. Then I made my fatal mistake. You sec, I was electedpublicity director for the university Gil- bert and Sullivan society. De- spite my ability to really mess things up, the show came off well. I innocently got tickets for my family, not realizing Dad would become so interested' in operettas he would audition for the next year's show, The Mika- do. There he was, on stage, wear- ing make-up and outrageous costumes, singing and dancing Hold that thought... By Adrian Harte for not one, but four consecutive years with the Gilbert and Sulli- van Society. I had to suffer the embarrass- ment of my dad becoming a theatre junkie. It would prob- ably be easier to tell people my father was an escaped convict or a Conservative MP than to con- fess "Yes, that's my dad up there: the one with the wings." Could it get any worse? Yes, it could. Last summer, Dad took classes to learn about tapdancing. This was way beyond belief, but it' seemed he was determined to audition for the London Musical Theatre's production of 42nd Street. Somehow, he learned thc steps and joined the chorus line. If you saw the show two weeks ago, there he was, my dad, on stagc in Centennial Hall. There I was, -shaking my head, wondering if I was being filmed for the next episode of The Twi- light Zone. I'm proud of my Dad and his newly -discovered talents, but I just. can't believe it's really him on stage, especially since with all that make-up on, he could pass for my younger brother (I don't have any brothers). Dad is, however, not as old as most of the Rolling Stones, leaving me worried about what he might try out for when he gets tired of Broadway musicals. Naturally, I have some fun when .1 go backstage after a show. Some cast menibers ask who I -am, so I tell them I'm Der- ek's son. Thcy never seem to believe me, so I tell them my dad looks'youngerthan his 60 years, which completely bewil- ders them. He's nowhere near 60 of course, but theatre people have a hard time separating reality from fantasy anyway. What Dad has in mind next, I can't imagine, but I don't know whether I'm more worried about him, or what is going to happen to me when I eventually grow up.