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The Citizen, 2000-02-23, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2000. PAGE 5. Arthur Black Back after these messages! Of course television is more interesting than people! Otherwise we'd have people standing in the comers of our living rooms. Anon I remember exactly when I realized what a powerful narcotic TV is. I was visiting the home of a new friend for the first time. She came from a large family - seven or eight - and they were all home that evening - physically anyway. They were in the living room gathered around the TV like Cro magnons around a campfire. My friend said something like, “Mom, Dad, everybody - I’d like you to meet...” and she introduced me explaining Avhere we’d met and so on. I was all set to say, “Pleased to meetcha” - except it wasn’t necessary. My presence hadn’t even registered. The mother’s eyes ran over me distractedly for a millisecond before relocking on the TV screen; I think the father said “Shhhh!” Nobody else even looked up. That was many years ago, when TV was still relatively new and clumsy. I think it’s even more powerful now - powerful enough that sometimes it’s hard to know what’s real and what is not. In Japan for instance, there is a very popular TV show that makes Jerry Springer look like International Scene By Raymond Canon Illegal immigrants I have been watching the unfolding saga of the landing of Oriental refugees of the illegal kind on the west coast of Canada and the efforts of some of them to slip into the U.S. I am wondering where all this is going to lead us. I have no doubt that these refugees, who appear to be Chinese from the mainland, would like to improve their lot in life rather than escape from any overly oppressive regime. But the news that they have paid as much as $50,000 for their passage, or promised to pay, or a combination of both, makes me certain there is a lot of money being made (i.e. a monetary scam) by someone who has in no way the welfare of the refugees at heart. The situation is further complicated by the fact that, as I indicated, a number of those refugees have no intention of staying in Canada; they are on their way as sdon as possible to the United States. Some of them were actually caught in a truck crossing the Quebec-U.S. border. Others, closer to home, were apprehended on their way through the Indian Reservation on Walpole Island, presumably hoping to find work south of the border where labour shortages are more in evidence than they are here. They do have to work, if only to pay off an episode of Teletubbies. It’s called Ai suru futari, Wakeru futari (Couples in love; couples breaking up). The contestants (?) are actually married couples who find themselves on the verge of divorce. They agree to come on the show and discuss their marital troubles in intimate detail with a panel of experts (and, incidentally several million Japanese viewers). The couple and the panel duke it out. If they decide the problems are insoluble and the marriage is doomed, the parties sign a divorce agreement, right there, on prime time. And of course before the final commercial break. Why would anyone humiliate themselves like that? Hey, you don’t have to go to Osaka to find examples of TV calling the shots. Last year, John Keating, a plumber in Los Angeles, responded to a call to fix a bathroom sink at a home in Beverly Hills. At the door, Keating was greeted by a woman wearing a leopard-print negligee. John Keating is a professional. Eyes on his steel-toed boots, he asked to be directed to the problem sink. While working on the sink, Keating could not help but overhear the grunts and groans of a man and a woman who were ... not playing scrabble. He returned to his task. Next thing he knew, a naked man came streaking into the bathroom, with his clothes under his arm. The woman’s husband had just come home, explained the streaker. Would John Keating please, please, please tell the cuckold that he (the naked man) was in fact the plumber’s helper? their transportation costs from which the scam artists will not let them escape. It goes without saying that news of these arrivals has spread all over the world. In fact, I have had inquiries from Europe as to the truth of the newspaper reports. This is of special interest to the Czechs, since it was the gypsies from the Czech Republic who came over in masses in the summer and fall of 1997. There was one difference; the gypsies paid their way over by plane and most of them were sent back. In retrospect, they would have been advised to rent an old freighter and land on some isolated spot in Newfoundland; they might have had a' better chance of staying. There are those who state we need more people and we should not turn back some poor, wretched individuals who manage to land more or less clandestinely on our shores. However, we have enough of these coming in by official channels to suit our purposes; it must be galling for the latter to watch some of the clandestine arrivals be caught, and yet cleared for refugee status within a few weeks. I would hope that the federal government implements a new immigration policy at the I ----------—i A Final Thought The measure of a man is the way he bears up under misfortunate. - Plutarch All this time the naked man is scrambling into his clothes and the husband is scrabbling at the bathroom door. The husband breaks down the door. The Don Juan is by now on all fours, inspecting the sinks U-joint and fervently imploring John Keating, plumber, to go along with the ruse that he was just a plumber’s assistant. Then the phony assistant snaps. He springs to his feet and tells the husband he loves the woman. The husband howls for vengeance ... and plumber John Keating is wondering what he did to deserve all this.... And at that point, a TV producer jumps out of a bathroom closet and yells, “Cut!” That’s right - it was all a sham. A Candid Camera style put-on designed to show ‘humourously’ the trials and tribulations of a plumber’s life. Except John Keating isn’t laughing. He tells the TV people they are idiots and they are lucky that he didn’t wrap a Number. Nine Pipe Wrench around somebody’s head. The TV people, realizing that they are suddenly in deep doo-doo, offer to deep-six the TV segment and destroy the videotape. John Keating, sensing sweet revenge, says.“Nah ... I’ll see you in court.” Which is where it stands now. Keating is suing the TV company for “emotional distress ... fear, shame, chagrin, sleeplessness, powerlessness, frustration and discomfort.” I hope he wins. I hope he soaks them big time. They deserve it. Besides, even if the TV producers lose millions, they can always turn it into a Movie of The Week. earliest possible moment so that we get more of the type of immigrant we want. While they are at it, procedures should be tightened up and made to work much more.efficiently than they are now. At the present time we have the reputation of being the slowest of the nations who are accepting immigrants when it comes to processing them. Sending out the right message will do more to curb illegal immigration than any amount of air patrols and mumbled threats from Ottawa. Letters Letters to the editor are a forum for public opinion and comment. The views expressed do not necessarily reflect those of this publication. THE EDITOR, We appreciate reading Letters to the Editor concerning Acre T and PROTECT. That these letters are informative and current brings to mind the value of your newspaper. We are indeed fortunate to live in an area where our communities receive such data. Let us hope that more folks become aware of matters that concern us all." John and Marg Saxon. The Short of it By Bonnie Gropp Season of my discontent Is it just my imagination or is the shortest month of the year the longest? I have tried to deny it, to fight it, to ignore it, but I can no longer. The blahs are here and I look upon the seemingly interminable weeks of winter which stretch before me with a bleakness tantamount to the one which surrounds me. Okay, perhaps that was a little melodramatic, but I simply can’t pretend any longer. I hate winter. I see no redeeming qualities. I have tried to convince myself, to believe all the accolades spouting from the lips of those who profess to adore the cold, the snow, the diversity. But I realized I’ve been lying to myself. I have tried to make the best of it, to accept it for what it is and find pleasure in what it offers. But I’m done now. It’s been here long enough. There are those I know who still see winter’s brilliant white. By February all I see is milky pallor. There are those who proclaim winter’s exhilarating freshness. I -just feel tired. There are those who delight in the change winter offers us. I am bored with the sterile blanket which lays before and around. And I’m sick of being cold, cold, cold. For me winter is the ugly duckling of the seasons, the black sheep, the Scrooge, the Grinch of life. The impending arrival of the season of my discontent makes autumn’s brilliant colours dreary. Conversely, the brown muck called spring is beauty to me heralding the arrival of life, newness and warmth. The funny thing is there wasn’t this malcontent as a youngster. Like every other child, I was able to find delight in everything. I got a thrill out of the first snowfall. I loved tobogganing and snowball fights. Even as a mini-skirted teenager, knowing my skinny bare legs would be frozen crimson red by the time I got to school, I didn't give winter’s visit a chilly reception. Winter meant snow days (and there were many more way back then) and billetted bus friends. Winter also offered new entertainment with the social centre of the community switching to the arena from the ball diamond, pool and downtown. Oh, perhaps I could say even now winter’s not so bad in the beginning, the darkness of late fall days made dazzling by the sparkle of new snow. It was fun watching my delighted pup tunnelling through fluffy flakes, cavorting as exuberantly as a child on an Easter egg hunt. But, trust me, I have spent the last few weeks looking for ways to continue some level of enjoyment of the season. I know this winter hasn’t even been so bad; we were blessed with a late and cautious arrival. But I don't get the same thrill from outdoor activities as I used to. Winter’s cold, cumbersome and uncertain. Snow slows me and storms scare me. This week they are promising me almost balmy temperatures. To those who revel in the cold and snow, my sympathies if this ruins your fun. But for me a precursor, however brief it may be, that winter doesn’t last forever is restorative, making those blasts yet to come a little easier to take.