“Hey! Hey! Hey! Listen Up! Listen Up!”

Of all the media coverage following the despicable white supremacist display in Charlottesville and the bumbling reactions from a president, one column in The Globe and Mail really stood out.

There is one perfect minimalist moment in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk that forms an all-encompassing metaphor for our times.

It would be grand to believe the CBC is for everyone. It is, after all, a national broadcaster that we all support with our tax dollars, whether we want to or not.

The other day, I got into a discussion about singularity and artificial intelligence with a computer science student. He’s young, smart and full of optimism. I’m older, debatably wiser and certainly more skeptical about the benefits of AI.

In the 16 months between the Supreme Court decision and the passage of federal legislation regulating medically assisted death, I was intensely involved in discussions and debates within the medical profession, among Catholic health care providers, ethicists and clergy, and with national and provincial government bodies. I was trying to mitigate the harms of the decision, particularly in the protection of the vulnerable, and in defending the right of conscientious objection for physicians and faith-based organizations.

OTTAWA – On the main route travelled by the Prince of Wales from Rideau Hall toward the teepee on Parliament Hill for Canada’s sesquicentennial celebrations at the beginning of July, it was notable that the banners flying from the light standards were not for Canada 150, but for the centennial of Vimy Ridge. Looked upon with biblical eyes, it was a reminder that covenants have to be ratified, to be paid for as it were, and the payment is in blood.

I’ve long been fascinated by political correctness and how it often has a life of its own; either ignoring facts or not bothering to find facts before going off half-cocked.

I want to focus on a single word, one that is loaded with enough meaning to sway life or death decisions.

Driving home after returning a second new dehumidifier that wouldn’t work in less than a week, I couldn’t help thinking about the so-called “good old days” when things were built to last.