What stinks, and keeps floating to the surface no matter how many times you flush?

If you guessed either Airbus or Brian Mulroney, you’d be right!

In the continuing saga of the Airbus scandal, whereby Brian Mulroney pocketed* a handsome sum of money ($300,000) from German businessman Karlheinz Schreiber to grease the wheels that would allow Karl to build a factory in in Quebec, “with a head office in Ottawa, and a pasta business in Ontario” (Karl presumably took to heart the business adage “Diversify!).

Brian Mulroney has been ordered by a court to pay $470,000 to former business associate Karlheinz Schreiber ($300,000 for the bribe, oh sorry “gift”, plus expenses and interest).

The fact is that Bri keeps walking away from every scandal he finds himself in, smelling of cheap air freshener and with a couple of million from threatening to sue the crap out of various bodies, such as the former Liberal government (for libel)….

“The federal Liberal government apologized to Mulroney in early 1997 for wording in a Justice Department letter to Swiss authorities two years earlier that left the impression he and others had received illegal payments in connection with the 1988 purchase of 34 Airbus Industrie jetliners by then Crown-owned Air Canada.

Federal authorities had also paid the former prime minister’s $2-million legal bill.

The apology came just hours before Mulroney’s $50-million libel suit against the government and the Mounties was to go to trial in Montreal.

The RCMP insisted at the time that despite the settlement its probe of the Airbus transaction was still actively being pursued. However, in an April 2003 statement, the police force said it had wrapped up its Airbus investigation.”

*Mulroney has acknowledged receiving the money, which came after he retired from politics, and has said he was paid for his assistance in setting up a pasta-machine company. Schreiber’s lawsuit, filed in the Ontario Superior Court of Justice, alleges Mulroney did not perform the work for which he was paid.


So, I wonder how long it will be before Bri threatens to sue the Ontario government, walks away with another couple of million for the damage to his “reputation”, and then resurfaces tooting his horn about how he was “Canada’s Greatest Prime Minister”™.

Yep! Shit floats….

"Noir: Cat And Film"


My LiveVideo friend,
1WhiteCrow, made this excellent Film Noir tribute... featuring Cubz the cat.


Next they’ll be blaming us for the end of Civilization as we know it….

A study — published in the July 26, 2007, edition of the New England Journal of Medicine — suggests that obesity may be “socially contagious.” The study found that your chances of becoming obese are much higher if someone you are closely connected to becomes obese.

And it may not be because you’re spending evenings sitting on the couch with your spouse or kids munching potato chips, eyes glued to the tube. Blame your friends.
The researchers found that if someone you consider a friend becomes obese, your chances of crossing 30 on the old BMI scale go up by 57 per cent. Among mutual friends, the odds go up by 171 per cent.

Yeah, perhaps they ought to do a study on why some scientists are idiots. Lets turn the result into the reason….. failing to look at the cause.

People who get cancer are more likely to smoke as a result…

People who have allergies are more likely to live in places with grass….

I notice no one made a big thing about the Swedish study that found that people who are 15% “overweight” tend to live longer and happier lives than people who are 15% “underweight”. That doesn’t make fat people feel bad and doesn’t support the bias that society has towards women being size zero… so why bother?

Next they’ll be blaming us for the end of Civilization as we know it….

A study — published in the July 26, 2007, edition of the New England Journal of Medicine — suggests that obesity may be “socially contagious.” The study found that your chances of becoming obese are much higher if someone you are closely connected to becomes obese.

And it may not be because you’re spending evenings sitting on the couch with your spouse or kids munching potato chips, eyes glued to the tube. Blame your friends.
The researchers found that if someone you consider a friend becomes obese, your chances of crossing 30 on the old BMI scale go up by 57 per cent. Among mutual friends, the odds go up by 171 per cent.

Yeah, perhaps they ought to do a study on why some scientists are idiots. Lets turn the result into the reason….. failing to look at the cause.

People who get cancer are more likely to smoke as a result…

People who have allergies are more likely to live in places with grass….

I notice no one made a big thing about the Swedish study that found that people who are 15% “overweight” tend to live longer and happier lives than people who are 15% “underweight”. That doesn’t make fat people feel bad and doesn’t support the bias that society has towards women being size zero… so why bother?

Too bad humans can’t be as compassionate as some animals….

A sick 75-year-old grandmother who was thrown in the garbage by her relatives in India last week has died, officials say.

Chinnammal Palaniappan, died on Sunday in a home for elderly people where she was taken after being rescued from the garbage dump in Erode town, 400km from Chennai, capital of southern Tamil Nadu state.

Palaniappan had told her rescuers that on July 19 she was taken from her home by her grandsons and on waking up found herself among a heap of rotting garbage.

“She was improving after she was fed and given necessary medicines in the facility but on Sunday evening she developed breathing problems and died,” an official said.

In a statement made to her rescuers before her death, Palaniappan said her daughter instructed the grandsons to dump her far away, so that she could not find her way back.

She was taken to the facility for the elderly as she did not have the address of her home.

The Chennai state government has promised an investigation and action against the dead woman’s family.

Death Comes on Little Cat’s Feet….

(Stew Milne / AP)

Staff at Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center
in Providence, Rhode Island, have noticed 2 year-old Oscar the cat’s uncanny ability to “predict” the death of patients, often better than the staff, itself.

Oscar, adopted as a kitten, has spent most of his life in the ward that is home to patients with Dementia, Parkinson’s, and other illnesses. Perhaps he has learned to sense changes in the dying patients. Whatever the reason, just hours before the death of a patient, Oscar curls up on the bed beside them.

“”He doesn’t make too many mistakes. He seems to understand when patients are about to die,” said Dr. David Dosa in an interview. He describes the phenomenon in a poignant essay in Thursday’s issue of the New England Journal of Medicine.”

His accuracy has been observed in 25 cases.


(Stew Milne / AP)


A Day in the Life of Oscar the Cat

From the article by Dr. Dosa

Oscar the Cat awakens from his nap, opening a single eye to survey his kingdom. From atop the desk in the doctor’s charting area, the cat peers down the two wings of the nursing home’s advanced dementia unit. All quiet on the western and eastern fronts. Slowly, he rises and extravagantly stretches his 2-year old frame, first backward and then forward. He sits up and considers his next move.

In the distance, a resident approaches. It is Mr. P., who has been living on the dementia unit’s third floor for 3 years now. She has long forgotten her family, even though they visit her almost daily. Moderately disheveled after eating her lunch, half of which she now wears on her shirt, Mrs. P. is taking one of many aimless strolls to nowhere. She glides toward Oscar, pushing her walker and muttering to herself with complete disregard for her surroundings. Perturbed, Oscar watches her carefully and, as she walks by, lets out a gentle hiss, a rattlesnake-like warning that say, ” leave me alone.” She passes him without a glance and continues down the hallway. Oscar is relieved. It is not yet Mrs. P’s time and he wants nothing to do with her.

Oscar jumps down off the desk, relieved to be once more alone and in control of his domain. He takes a few moments to drink from his water bowl and grab a quick bite.

Satisfied, he enjoys another stretch and sets out on his rounds. Oscar decides to head down the west sing first, along the way side stepping Mr. S., who is slumped over a couch in the hallway. With lips slightly pursed, he snores peacefully– perhaps blissfully unaware of where is now living.

(Stew Milne / AP)


Oscar continues down the hallway until he reaches its end and room 310. The door is closed, so Oscar sits and waits. He has important business here.

Twenty-five minutes later, the door finally opens and out walks a nurses’s aide carrying dirty lines. “Hello, Oscar,” she says. ” Are you going inside?” Oscar lets her pass, then makes his way into the room, where there are two people. Lying in a corner bed and facing the wall, Mrs. T. is asleep in a fetal position. Her body is thin and wasted from the breast cancer that has been eating away at her organs. She is mildly jaundiced and has not spoken in several days. Sitting next to her is her daughter, who glances up from her novel to warmly greet the visitor. ” Hello, Oscar. How are you today?”

Oscar take no notice of the woman and leaps up onto her bed. He surveys Mrs. T. She is clearly in the terminal phase of illness and her breathing is labored. Oscar’s examination is interrupted by a nurse, who walks in to ask the daughter weather Mrs. T is unconfortable and needs more morphine. The daughter shakes her head and the nurse retreats. Oscar returns to his work. He sniffs the air, gives Mrs. T. one finally look, then jumps off the bed and quickly leaves the room. Not today.

Making his way back up the hallway, Oscar arrives at Room 313. The door is open, and he proceeds inside. Mrs. K. is resting peacefully in her bed, her breathing steady but shallow. She is surrounded by photographs of her grandchildren and one from her wedding day. Despite these keepsakes, she is alone. Oscar jumps onto her bed and again sniffs the air. He pauses to consider the situation, and then turns around twice before curling up besides Mrs. K.

One hour passes. Oscar waits. A nurse walks into the room to check on her patient. She pauses to note Oscar’s presence. Concerned, she hurriedly leaves the room and returns to her desk. She grabs Mrs. K.’s chart off the medical-records rack and begins to make phone calls.

Within a half hour the family starts to arrive. Chairs are brought into the room, where the relatives begin their vigil. The priest is c`called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling Mrs. K. A young grandson ask his mother, “What is the cat doing here?” The mother, fighting back tears, tells him, “he is here to help grandma get to heaven.” Thirty minutes later, Mrs. K. takes her last earthly breath. With this, Oscar sits up, looks around then departs the room so quietly that the grieving family barely notices.

On his way back to the charting area, Oscar passes a plaque mounted on the wall. On it is an engraved commendation from a local hospice agency:

” For his compassionate hospice care, this plaque is awarded to Oscar the Cat”

Oscar takes a quick drink of water and returns to his desk to curl up for a long rest. His day’s work is done. There will be no more deaths today, not in Room 310 or in any other room for that matter. After all, no one dies on the third floor unless Oscar pays a visit and stays a while.

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