Big Brother is Watching

The Minister may designate persons or classes of persons as inspectors for the purposes of the administration and enforcement of this Act. 33. (1)

I’m not alone in seeing Bill C-30 as an intrusion into the cherished privacy and freedoms of Canadians, as widespread public protest makes plain.

Most criticism has focussed on Section 16 and the extended police powers it would enshrine, but I’d like an explanation of the words quoted above.

Under its power, “inspectors” deputized by the Minister (presumably Public Safety Minister Vic Toews), would be issued a “certificate” of authority compelling “any telecommunications service provider” to open your private online information to their inspection. [35. (3)]

It would be illegal to misrepresent any information [38. (1)] or “obstruct or hinder an inspector” and his  sidekicks ((38) (2) in pursuit of warrantless government snooping.

Social media has carried a great deal of the backlash against the bill, some of it personal, like the Twitter “Vikileaks” campaign that made public the salacious details of Toews’ personal life; some of it humorous, in particular the #TellVicEverything trend that inundated Twitter with the mundane affairs of everyday Canadians. At one point last week, this protest trended not just Canada-wide, but globally!

While Toews thought CBC should make a show out of the “very, very funny” content of the latter, he’s called for police to investigate the former intrusions, the details of which, it should be mentioned, are public, if not formerly common knowledge.

The choice Toews offered critics of the legislation—”You can either stand with us or with the child pornographers”—is a false dilemma worthy of George W. Bush, and a low insult to every law-abiding Canadian who, exercising their democratic rights, wonders why a government needs to claim unfettered powers.

Re-branding the legislation “Protecting Children from Internet Predators Act” does not so much obscure its intent as reveal the clumsy Orwellian spin behind the scenes.

“…they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live—did live, from habit that became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.” ~George Orwell, Nineteen-Eighty-Four

This blog, attached to a bicycling website, as mentioned on the “About page” sometimes includes content “spilling outside, the regular purview of cycling culture.”

I often spill thoughts on these pages that occupy my mind, on and off the bike.

These public musings often examine the politics of oil, the global warming denial industry, car culture, and government environmental policy. They are all easy to find; check out the categories, over in the right sidebar. I make no secret of my views.

It’s also no secret that the governing party of Canada is a lobbying arm of the petroleum industry, though they would rather you believe that’s all in your best interest—jobs and all.

Having publicly declared my opposition to the current regime and its corporatist agenda—I believe Stephen Harper and his government are the greatest threat to democracy that Canada has ever faced—should I be afraid that “inspectors,” appointed by “The Minister” at whim, may march into my internet service provider demanding access to “any document, information or thing” associated with my online activities, as laid out in (34. (2.) (a)?

Am I paranoid, or worse, a friend of pedophiles?

As Canadian poet Joni Mitchell mused, “maybe it’s paranoia, maybe it’s sensitivity,” ‘cause I’m a sensitive kind of guy, and I believe the threats my grandchildren face come primarily from predatory corporations and their government courtiers, more interested in quarterly profits than the future of life on earth.

Should organizations like Vancouver-based DeSmogBlog worry about surveillance, following their release of the “Denialgate” papers, revealing plans of global warming-deniers at the Heartland Institute and its list of sponsors, a who’s who of corporate heavies, including General Motors, Koch Industries and Microsoft?

After all, DeSmogBlog has (without extra-judicial powers) highlighted possible internet connections between Harper Government apparatchiks, global warming deniers, and tar sands spinners such as “Ethical Oil,” run by Sun Media heavy-breather Ezra Levant.

If DeSmogBlog’s investigations are correct, a cadre of Conservative Party insiders are running disinformation campaigns in support of the oilpatch.

Harper’s ministers, including Vic Toews, have publicly demonized environmental organizations, including Greenpeace, as “radicals,” funded by “foreign interests.” At the same time, they are silent on the intentions of the foreign oil interests they are courting on bended knees.

They have declared war on those who oppose the Alberta tar sands, associated pipelines, and oil tankers that would supply bitumen to foreign processors.

Is it a stretch to imagine that these “enemies of Canada” might find themselves the target of “investigators” appointed by a minister who has thrown his support behind the promises of the petroleum industry?

How about Canadian scientists, already muzzled by Harper’s inquisitional control freaks; should they be worried about surveillance of their Internet activities?

My greatest concerns have been laid out more cogently by great Canadian writers like John Ralston Saul (husband of former Canadian Governor-General Adrienne Clarkson) who wrote the definitive history of corporatism and its brutal excesses, in Voltaire’s Bastards–a story of neutered courtesans, always willing to jettison democracy for economic theory and efficiency.

Though Bill C-30 has been booted swiftly back to committee by public resistance, even with extensive modifications this attack on Canadian liberty has laid bare this government’s dangerous totalitarian impulses.

Stand on guard.

Bill C-30 | PDF version (grab a copy)

I prefer basting to baking. This is why, after a workout at the gym, you’ll find me in the steam room, rather than the sauna.

A post-workout poaching always brings to mind my heat bath baptism.

Should you find yourself peering at me through the mist at some athletic club, you’ll be lucky to get away without hearing my steamy tales.

You could always claim incipient heatstroke. But please forgive me if I babble; those experiences are seared in my memory.

Caravan Cooker

I was initiated into Scandinavian bathing rituals high in the Purcell Mountains of southeastern British Columbia.

The Meadow, as we called our little alpine hideout circled by log cabins, lay on the edge of Lavington Creek, a foaming glacial torrent.

The prospectors who had established the settlement, besides building the cabins from local larch, had abandoned a tin trailer constructed from a truck’s rear wheel assembly, its wooden framework clad in purloined soft-drink signs.

We lined this little caravan with thick larch boards—rescued from off-cut piles, where portable mills once operated—and installed an airtight heater.

Even in winter months, at twenty-below, the little heater, sprayed with water, soon raised the temperature enough to send us diving out of the blanket-draped doorway, right into the scalding-cold waters of Lavington Creek … after a hole had been chopped through the ice.

Fluctuating water levels often left a space between the underside of the ice and water surface. Needless to say, care was needed to avoid being washed downstream.

During one winter sortie (or sauté), one of our number, Charles Scott, had us worried by a lengthy stay in the frigid creek. Our concern was heightened by the fact that, on this occasion, our communal ablutions took place after sunset.

The slippery steps we had cut into the ice presented a bit more of a challenge to Scottie, who had left half his left leg in the jungles of Vietnam.

Just as we were mumbling about a rescue team, Scottie’s prodigious beard parted the blankets. Shivering, as he sidled up to the red glow of the airtight, he reported through chattering teeth that he had become separated from his wire-rimmed glasses, under the ice.

Without them, he was as good as blind. Not only was he profoundly myopic, shrapnel from the same explosion that took his leg had robbed him of the sight in one eye.

The first search party took axes to cut shelves below the frozen creek surface, followed by kerosene lamp-bearers, whose mission it was to illuminate the ice-cave. Naked and steaming, they tip-toed to the creek edge and, lit by flickering yellow light, descended into the cave. It was quite a spectacle.

As they retreated to the sauna, a freshly-toasted crew took their place, ducking into water cold enough to produce instant frontal lobe paralysis.

The creek bed was a mixture of ochre sand and iron pyrites—fool’s gold. What was the chance of finding a pair of gold-rimmed glasses there? Besides, surely they had been swept away. Holding onto submerged branches, the bifocal brigade pawed through the sand, lifting sparkling clouds. We were captives in a Christmas “snowdome.”

Eventually, a pink-skinned figure rose triumphantly from the glowing cavern, glasses in hand.

During the confab, the fire had gone untended. We headed uphill to the Big Cabin, where a forty-five gallon drum served duty as an efficient heater. Hopefully, there was also a bottle of dandelion wine kicking around. It was time for a different kind of toast.

Portable poacher

A more mobile “sweat lodge” can be erected anywhere. A sheet of plastic or a tarp, draped over branches will suffice.

Willow boughs, which grow handily along waterways, “planted” in a circle and tied into a dome, make a perfect framework. Saplings about 3 metres long are perfect.

Heat stones (caution: river rock may explode) in a fire for a few hours and carry them carefully by shovel or clasped between branches to a pit dug in the centre of the circle.

Take in a container of water and batten down the hatches. Pour water over the rocks.

My most memorable sweat was erected on a sandy shore of the Klondike River, north of Dawson City, Yukon. A dive into the subarctic water encouraged whoops and hollers as the swift-running current swept us a hundred metres downstream to a sand bar.

Why not try a refreshing steam-cleaning on your next bicycle tour or camping trip?

Companions: Jerome Lavigne, Anthony Gilbert, Nicole Honda

Rocky Mountain 1200)

I’ve been away from the sport of randonneuring—marathon cycling—for three years now; time enough to contemplate its attractions and its peccadillos.

The uninitiated often assume randonneés (individual events, also known as brevets) are races.

Randonneurs, or “cyclotourists” as they are often called, like to think of themselves as non-competitive, and are quick to assure “it’s not racing.”

Meanwhile, bicycle tourists, who typically ride with no record of their passing or time of arrival, are unsure what this cycle “rambling” is all about.

While it’s true ranonneuring allows a certain amount of leeway, it still wants you to get somewhere—a specific somewhere—on time.

In fact, randonneuring has official rules on how you should get there. Some randonneurs bridle against these rules, yet seem unable to desert them for the open road, unencumbered by rules and rewards.

They eschew riding for the sake of riding. A bicycle foray is meaningless unless it has official imprimatur, is recorded in a record book, holds out a laurel.

Despite the pretence of non-competition, randonneurs are almost universally obsessed with measurements of one sort or another, entering them into spreadsheets, graphs and record books over which initiates pore for meaning.

In this sense, randonneuring is a corrupted form of touring … or slow racing.

Racing puts its cards on the table; it wants accolades and advertising. Or, at least, it’s sponsors do.

Originally, Paris-Brest-Paris, the great event from which randonneuring sprang, was held as a race. Winner of the inaugural 1891 event Charles Terront covered the 1200-kilometre test of endurance in under 72 hours, insulated from rough roads by revolutionary pneumatic tires provided by his sponsor, Michelin.

“Aren’t we on the threshold of a new and wonderful world?” enthused organizer Pierre Giffard.

Freed from affectation, randonneuring is a great sport. It is inclusive in the sense that mere mortals can hope to participate without the sponsorship of megabanks and agricultural behemoths.

Though the big events require a dedicated training regimen, any cyclist in reasonable shape can enjoy the challenges of the sport. The average age of a PBP participant is fifty-years.

PBP’s “non-racing” leaders cross the finish line in less than 45 hours; the leisurely and the lame are content to squeeze under the 90-hour limit. Every finisher earns a medal.

A randonnée is made up of individuals, each with their own motivation. In its highest moments, randonneuring attains grace, when, perhaps, a group coalesces, its only purpose to ride in unison towards the next village.

People Power, Zucotti Park, Occupy Wall Street Camp

Photo David Shankbone)

Today, the gym I frequent will unveil new exercise machines.

The manager told me on Tuesday that these improved implements of torture will generate electricity … or the users will.

The thought of paying a membership fee to provide power back to building’s “grid” is amusing.

Imagine, if you will, fitness slaves (perspiring in the basement of the hotel in which the facility is located) powering the lights in the guest rooms above.

In return for donated kilojoules, perhaps they’ll offer restaurant discounts.

To date, the sum of my power production, outside of propelling my bike, has been confined to lighting my way, via a generator hub.

Pedal-powered machinery and generators are nothing new; they are still used in “Third World” countries, including Guatemala and India.

In calorie-rich countries like Canada (where people burn energy on treadmills to nowhere) it makes sense to make like gerbils, while producing electricity, or grinding maize.

I ran across a Low-Tech Magazine article recently, that examined “Pedal powered farms and factories: the forgotten future of the stationary bicycle.” It’s worth a read.

In the meantime, I’ll be donating my winter fat to the cause.

Speaking of drivetrains, I’ve added a Garage post on Cassettes & Freewheels

“What did I do with my cone wrench?

Though I feel like my hubs are seized lately, I’m actually making progress on several fronts of interest to cyclists.

Without giving away all my VeloSecrets, I’ve spent the weekend rolling from one project to another—book editing, bicycle restoration, still photography, video production—all in one way or another related to future VeloWeb content.

I’m sure everything would go a lot faster if I were a grammar guru, in the case of text editing, or, when it comes to my purported area of expertise, not so engaged with close-up photography and its attendant focus/depth-of-field demands. But I like the rewards of attention to detail.

Take five.

My studio resembles a cross between Joe’s Garage and the set of Blow-Up, without the guitars and mini-skirts.

I must be careful where I step, lest I embed a ¼” ball-bearing in my sole.

Look for the results of these machinations soon at VeloGarage.

Ariolimax columbianus

To say my progress on recently announced projects has been sluggish would be an insult to the greater mollusk phylum.

Indeed, the albino banana slug (Ariolimax columbianus) pictured above, who posed seductively for me in the rainforest of Pacific Rim National Park, might have blazed the trail from Bamfield to Tofino in just the time I’ve wasted trying to figure out how to install Amazon’s “KindleGen” eBook file converter.

Really, is this the best the digital book-selling titan can do?

If anyone has any tips on how to even install this POS on my Mac, I’d be eternally grateful. Then again, maybe not.

After downloading it, I had to roam the Internet just to understand that this was a “command line program.” The Amazon download page provided not a scrap of guidance. In other words, the geeks at Amazon assume that writers will want to burn up precious braincells struggling to decipher ancient hieroglyphics, instead of writing their latest novel.

A Google search returned a slew of other equally-frustrated would-be digital publishers, asking the same question.

This post from S POLLARD, on the Amazon Kindle Publishing Forum, pretty much sums up my feelings:

“Note to Amazon technical staff: please can we have a simple, normal, Mac installer. You know, one of those things with an icon we just drag into our Applications folder. Having to mess around with readme.txt files that contain inaccurate nonsense is pretty frustrating. If we wanted this sort of hassle we wouldn’t be Mac users – we’d still be on PCs. Sorry to go off on one, (sic) but it happens to be true. For a company that claims to be at the leading edge of technology, and is encouraging its customers to join in, publishing via Kindle, this is a shambles.”

One could spend days reading reams of forum fomentations, but this programmer’s observation says it all:

“Well, as a highly-experienced programmer, I have to say, if you release a command-line program in the age of GUI [graphical user interface], you will get users complaining. Just sayin.”

Meanwhile, the Apple app iBooks Author and its “onerous” user agreement everyone’s been complaining about has given me a simple GUI to create a book in minutes.

Once again, Apple gets it, that people just want to be creative, not programmers.

But, just in case you take me for an Apple acolyte, what the hell were Apple developers thinking when they took away the “save as” function? I’m ready to desert Pages altogether! Apple, Why would you do this!?

Again, forums are exploding with indignant users who, through no fault of their own, can no longer figure out how to do a simple thing like save a file.

I’m not privy to the inner workings of Amazon or Apple, but I think this is what happens when the development team is run by programmers. They deserve respect for laying the foundations, but their work is useless without translation into an interface that schmucks like me can use.

While the eBook idea falters (or at least the idea of offering multiple formats), I’ve been working behind-the-scenes on other hands-on bicycle projects.

This stuff, notwithstanding non-standard crown races and such, is straight-forward. The plan is to make them intelligible to ordinary cyclists, or would-be cyclists, not just bike geeks.

I’m hoping they will be ready for prime-time before spring rolls around … not that I’d want to delay blossoms and sunshine.

I don’t know about you, but I need a dose of Monty Python.

Click here to view the embedded video.

And now for something completely different

 
You might also appreciate the efforts of Keith Snyder and authors of Ride: Short Fiction About Bicycles, who have waded through the complexities of eBook publishing to bring you the first edition, in multiple formats, including Amazon Kindle.

5 am. Insomnia.

I awake from a dream of dirty glasses, crayfish, frogs. We have visitors. Will they want to stay, knowing the state of our glassware?

We’ve moved houses. Not because we wanted to. Because we had to. We failed to notice the house was within spitting distance of a busy train track.

It’s windy outside. Not in a dream. For real. The trees murmur.

And there’s an irritating drone somewhere in the neighbourhood. An apartment fan perhaps. With a worn bearing.

We’re the other side of Woden’s Day. The outcome of the battle is uncertain.

Thor wants a piece of the action now. He wields his hammer in the dawn.

Sorry about the dirty glasses.

I hope you’ll come back when we’ve tidied up.

I’ve spent the last 36 hours playing with Apple’s new eBook editing application, iBooks Author. I must say, after some initial confusion, caused by looking for options that this tool leaves behind, I’m impressed.

Before I go further, let me explain that this editor is meant to produce books for the iPad. That means you can’t view publications generated by iBooks Author on your iPhone, Kindle, or other reader. The iBooks 2.0 textbook format is tied to iBooks 2.0 on iPads.

It uses a whole new kind of file system, with proprietary code—apparently a strange new brew of ePub3, CSS, XHTML5, and other secret ingredients.

For codeophobes like me, this is irrelevant; though I’ve read that the modified CSS is non-standard. Again, this is unlikely to affect anyone outside the development community … or is it? I won’t pretend to fully understand the ramifications of the decisions Apple has made with this new standard, but web developer Baldur Bjarnason has plenty to say on the subject.

The biggest confab surrounds the iBooks Author Licence Agreement, which begins with the proviso

IMPORTANT NOTE:
If you charge a fee for any book or other work you generate using this software (a “Work”), you may only sell or distribute such Work through Apple (e.g., through the iBookstore) and such distribution will be subject to a separate agreement with Apple.

I’m not sure that this is much different than what Amazon attempts to do with its Kindle format.

Apple wants to own some of the lucrative digital publishing business. It is targeting the educational market with the initial textbook templates that come with the app.

Like its competitors, it will take 30 percent of the profits, thank you very much. That means you keep 70 percent.

The main issue I see for publishers is the need to create multiple formats to reach all potential readers. This is already the case, but other formats are more easily converted. It looks like Apple’s bespoke format precludes that option.

As I announced last month, I will soon add an e-book store to VeloWeb. These considerations—what formats to offer and how to generate them—are responsible for slowing my entry into the brave new world of digital self-publishing. I want to do it right.

I’ve been fiddling with the latest version of Pages (yes, another Apple product), which can export documents as ePubs, but have found the learning curve rather steep.

Admittedly, I can’t provide a comparative review here, because my experience with eBook editing tools is limited, but here’s what I’ve found so far with iBooks Author:

• The help menu is well-organized and clear. It’s what technical writing should look like.
• The layout is clean and intuitive—particularly for Mac users familiar with Keynote.
• Mac users will also take to the toolbar, inspector, media browser, etc.
• Chapters,  sections, and pages are simple to add and edit.
• Templates are easy to use and modify.
• Widgets enable drag-and-drop of multi-media, including photo galleries, video, Keynote, and 3-D objects.
• Preview (just plug in an iPad and open iBooks) is a breeze.
• Table of contents is generated automatically and can be modified in the inspector.
• Glossary creation is a no-brainer. Glossaries can be used in place of expiry-prone hyperlinks. Readers click on a glossary term and get a short definition (written concisely, by you). The option is then provided to consult the dictionary, search the Web, or Wikipedia. I love glossaries!
• Allows export as PDF
• It’s, like, totally WYSIWYG.
• It’s free!

In short, the first publication you’re likely to see at the VeloWeb Book Store, will be made with this shiny new toy. Of course, in accordance with the licence agreement, I’ll be giving it away.

For the iPadless, I will also offer a PDF version. What formats would you like me to offer?

I’d also appreciate hearing from publishers who have experience with other authoring tools.

The work associated with establishing the book store and stocking its shelves (I’ve worked through the weekend) will eat into the time I can spend on this blog.

Still, I’ll try to post a couple of times a week, as usual. However, content will likely be of the Reader’s Digest condensed version. I will alert you to new content on VeloWeb, and progress on the first eBook.

I awoke this morning to a strangely quiet neighbourhood. The silence was unusual, because I’m usually disturbed—often before I’d like—by footfall, voices, and the more annoying roar of engines.

When I cracked the blinds, I discovered a world muffled in white; the snow flurries of Tuesday had turned into a full-blown blizzard, driven by a rambunctious wind.

With hot tea in hand, I turned to Twitter for my morning news. No surprise, the local stream chirped out warnings of tangled traffic, and the occasional encomium to the belated Christmas card landscape.

The City tweeted for patience.

On my street at least, it seemed drivers had heeded the warning, suddenly thankful for public transit (and its dedicated operators), or perhaps Tuesday night’s black-ice-capades had put a dent in rush-hour.

I checked the TV news. Roadsides are littered with abandoned cars, transport trucks deliver their cargo into ditches, tow truck companies and plough operators work overtime. The Insurance Corporation of British Columbia’s phones are ringing off the hook. The “traffic report” covers this as if it is normal.

Back in Twitterland, city police beg for common sense (a tall order in calm weather) on the roads.

As I prepare the hard drugs—fresh-ground Peruvian—I notice the real-world twitterverse is busier on the other side of the kitchen window. The avian menagerie has more serious work to do, consuming calories to survive the hard night ahead.

Usually, I chase these lovely creatures in thicket and bog, for no other reason than to share their company … and perhaps take home a “trophy” that reminds me of the rules of nature. Behind my camera, I try (perhaps in vain) to transcend the Age of Reason.

In my back yard, on this winter day, juncos, chickadees, sparrows and nuthatches remind me again that conservation is the foundation of survival. These little guys have no way out of the equation.

Neither do we “naked apes”–as much as we like to imagine ourselves immune to the rules that govern “lesser creatures”—have any other options, unless one imagines the exploitation of other planets. But that—as yet unrealized fantasy—avoids the most important question facing the human race: Do you want to be here?

If the answer to that question is “yes,” then the 21st century corollary is, what are you gonna do to preserve Earth?”

The hard fourth season traditionally challenges humans to examine the gifts of this place, sharing the same (perhaps in bird feeders), while hoping for a return to plenty.

The seeds of global survival are sewn locally, where neighbourhoods understand, without consulting the the stock market, the “limits of growth.”

We can plan the quiet streets we rarely experience outside of extreme weather events, before they are stilled by “future shock.”

We can make a difference. If nothing else, it’s for the birds.

Update, February 9

UPDATE (January 20)

Following mass protests on Wednesday that included blackouts of popular websites like Wikipedia and Reddit, U.S. lawmakers halted the SOPA/PIPA bills on Friday. The Financial Post reports that

Support for the two bills has eroded over the past 48 hours after some of the world’s largest Web companies came out against the bills, claiming the legislation could threaten the business models of legitimate Web-based companies.

Does the outcry drive a stake through the heart of these bills? Mashable reports that they may not be quite dead yet.

“SOPA and PIPA are dead, but only in the way a zombie is dead.” The takeaway being that they will inevitably be re-written and reintroduced after the furor has died down.

Today, major websites, like  WordPress,Wikipedia, Reddit, Mozilla, and BoingBoing, will go dark to protest against two US. bills—the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and the Protect IP Act (PIPA)—which attempt to enforce intellectual property rights with a very broad set of provisions opponents fear would stifle online innovation.

This is U.S. legislation, right? So why should Canucks care?

As Michael Geist, a law professor at the University of Ottawa, has explained (though you’ll have to wait a day to read his blog; he’s also shutting down today in protest) trade ties, in particular the Trans Pacific Partnership, and the digital lock rules in our own Bill C-11, make it inevitable that Canada will be affected by these developments.

To voice your concerns, email consultations@international.gc.ca. Or fax (613-944-3489)

Snailmail: (Trade Negotiations Consultations (TPP), Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada, Trade Policy and Negotiations Division II (TPW), Lester B. Pearson Building, 125 Sussex Drive, Ottawa, Ontario K1A 0G2).

U.S. Readers can lobby via Stop American Censorship
Protest SOPA
Google: End Piracy, Not Liberty