A complete botch-up

Or was it?  "Every time someone calls the Secret Service incompetent, I hear the word "conspiracy"," said Mark Groubert on 'America's Untold Stories', a YouTube podcast into which I tune regularly.

Groubert is an investigative journalist, who has uncovered various conspiracies, including the one allegedly orchestrated by LBJ to have Kennedy killed.  That one is very compelling and I urge you to have a gander.

According to Groubert, the latest attempt on Trump's life at the Whitehouse Correspondents' Dinner was no accident.  Most SS agents detest Trump and seem to go out of their way to allow him to be assassinated.    

This was attempt number three.  Apparently, the agents didn't apprehend Cole Allen; they were looking at their phones when he simply tripped on his own shoelaces.  And, in spite of firing off several point-blank rounds, none of the agents managed to hit him.  They were firing at each other.  Keystone Cops anyone?  As with the golf course attempt, the area was wide open and again, five rounds missed the shooter entirely.

An agent looking at his phone, instead of at the scene.

The magnetometer was in the process of being dismantled when Allen simply jumped over it and fled in.  And why, asks Groubert, wasn't the detector at the front door of the hotel?  Why was it just at the entrance to the ballroom?  During the whole episode, hotel guests simply wandered in and out at will.  Security was basically non-existent.  "Anyone could have come in and done anything," he adds.  

Groubert says that the entire Protection Branch of the SS needs to be replaced with a small, military unit -- such as the Navy Seals or the Green Berets.  Another question he asks is why Vance and Trump, along with the top seven in the line of succession, were on the same dais at the same event.  "The president and the vice president are never to be at the same event," he points out.

The only protection officer who did his job was the one assigned to Vance.  That guy just yanked him, while the one assigned to Trump started having a discussion with him.  "That's an absolute no-no," said Groubert.

All good questions.  It's fascinating stuff and I'm becoming convinced there are a lot of people, whose job it is to protect Trump, who aren't really trying.    

Here we go again

As I have been banging on about for years, the predictable is happening.  In spite of Carney's magic "Major Projects Office" and promise of "building things at rates never seen before", the Indigenous blockades have started:  

The Indigenous are now going to court to block everything.

Well, of course they have.  Their funding does not depend on any major -- or minor -- project getting done; they get their money regardless.  Were it otherwise, projects would be humming along.

Was this predictable?  Well, of course.  Carney tried an end run by passing another fast-track bill, the Building Canada Act, but that too is running up against legal challenges in court.  Even PCO Clerk Michael Sabia has said that Indigenous court challenges mean decades lost -- not months or years, decades!

The Indigenous claim that meaningful consultations have not been carried out.  Will any consultations ever be meaningful for them?  Their lawyers just continue to drag things out for years.  And why not?  They get big bucks for every challenge!

So, as I've said many times, that's done-and-dusted for Carney's big visions and major projects.

_________________

On another Indigenous file, the search of the Winnipeg landfill for the remains of four Indigenous sex workers has at last been halted.  Two sets of remains have been found, but sense has filtered into the thick and deluded heads of the burghers of Manitoba:  The other remains will lie where they are.

Frankly, although Wab Kinew called any objections to the search "racist", these women knew the perils their profession entailed.  They risked their lives every time they went to work.  They must have known where they might end up and I doubt they would have expected the city and province to spend millions searching for them.

What did this all cost?  $18.4 million.

When-oh-when will the Indigenous start trying cooperatively to build Carney's "Canada Strong?"  Sorry, rhetorical.  Never.

A complete mystery to me?

Re-printed from 'The Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights'

_________________________________ 

April 29, 2026

Besides an insatiable appetite for control, what defines the Left is an equally insatiable appetite for envy. No one epitomizes these vices today better than New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, a young Muslim man born to privilege who has never had a real job. 

He recently stuck his face into a camera and said, “When I ran for mayor, I said I was going to tax the rich. Well, today we’re taxing the rich.” He had his proverbial snarky grin on his face, delighted with his decision to fleece the upper class. If he had any integrity, he would include himself and his parents in his rape-the-rich game.

Mamdani has made it plain that he supports the “abolition of private property.” Or as he likes to put it, “If there was any system that could guarantee each person housing—whether you call it the abolition of private property or you call it a statewide housing guarantee—it is preferable to what is going on right now.”

Calls for the “abolition of private property” are what made Karl Marx famous. It is a basic tenet of communism. Now if Mamdani were honest, he would have to rid himself of his private property holdings, and those of his uber-rich parents. They all sing from the same communist playbook, but in real life they are capitalists par excellence.

Mamdani loves private property so much that he owns four acres of land in Jinja, Uganda. It is worth an estimated $250,000. Not bad for a plot of land with nothing on it (at least for the moment). As one Ugandan told a reporter, “One thing for sure is that Zohran owns not only one land here, but many.” He may not be required to report private property holdings that do not generate income, so he can skirt scrutiny. This is the kind of capitalist trick that if done by others would drive him mad.

The working class can barely afford to pay for one wedding, but Mamdani had no problem paying for three of them. The biggest one was in Uganda. He made sure to keep the riff-raff far away. He hired heavily armed men and masked special forces to guard his family’s estate, making ICE agents look angelic.

Mommy and daddy are filthy rich. Mira Nair is an international filmmaker and Mahmood Mamdani is a Columbia University professor. He makes $300,000 a year, which is not exactly chump change, especially for a Marxist. She is worth an estimated $5 million. She sold her Manhattan apartment in 2019 for $1.45 million.

Despite all his loot, he is driven by envy. Envy is not identical to jealousy. The jealous want what others have; the envious want to deprive others of what they have. That defines Mamdani.
 
The Catholic Church considers envy to be one of the seven capital sins. Robert Nisbet, the great American sociologist, got it right when he said, “Of the seven deadly sins, of all states of the human mind indeed, envy is the basest and ugliest. It is also the most corrosive of spiritual and moral fiber in the bearer and the most destructive of the social fabric.”

It is bad enough that Mamdani stokes the flames of envy, but what makes him even more detestable is his rank hypocrisy. Pope Francis did not know him, but he knew of his ilk. “Hypocrites are people who pretend, flatter and deceive because they live with a mask over their faces and do not have the courage to face the truth.”

Mamdani doesn’t have the courage to tell the truth about his enormous wealth. Instead, he pretends to be one of the masses. But he never was and he never will be. He is a nepo-baby foreign investor who is not subject to the consequences of his own economic policies. “Do as I say, not as I do” never sounded more obscene.

Family holdings in Uganda are extensive, going beyond Jinja. Their prize possession is a luxury 5-bedroom villa on two acres of land. It has a pool, gardens and a spectacular view of Lake Victoria. It is worth more than 1 million dollars.

____________________________

How did he get elected as Mayor of New York?  I still can't figure it out??

The magnificent New York.

Maybe it's just me?

Am I the only one who gets annoyed when the staff take up a table and eat in the restaurant in which you are paying good money to dine?  It just pisses me off. 

The other day, the head chef was sitting at the bar, chowing down.  Why?  Why wasn't she in the back eating?  Frankly, I don't want to be reminded that she eats for free and patrons don't.  The other bad idea about this scene was that she is very overweight -- not a good ad for how you will look if you eat what she prepares.

This annoys me.

Yesterday, the assistant manager was enjoying his lunch at the banquette next to ours.  He came over and said our meal would be a little delayed because there was a backup in the kitchen.  "I see you got your lunch," I smiled.  "Well, I had to wait a little too," he replied.  

Really?!  How annoying that you had to wait to eat your free lunch.  The nerve!  I thought, but didn't say.  (Yes, it happens.  Rarely, but sometimes I don't blurt out everything I think.)

I know, I know, it's my 'Upstairs Downstairs' mentality, but I think there has to be a separation.  That's why, when we had live-in nannies, my rule was you stay in your room and we'll stay in the rest of the house.  I bought them a TV and even loaned them my car, but the line was drawn; they didn't sit and watch TV with us.

Did I miss my era, The Gilded Age?  Apparently.

My true calling.

 

The Death Zone

Lying in bed this morning, I started thinking about the recent death of yet another friend and began listing all my relatives and contemporaries who have left this planet for the great unknown in the past few years.  Yep, B and I are definitely in what I call 'The Death Zone'.

Here are just the ones I can remember at the moment.  I am sure I will add to this sad list as the day wears on and memories flood back:    

Betty-Anne
John
Bob**

Mike

Jane

John

Wendy

Heather

Art*

Barry*

Libby

Jamie

Gordon

Holden

David

Terry

Stevie

Brian*

Bryan*

Andy

Richard

Ted

Paddy*

Donna

Charlotte

Cameron

Russ

Joe

Nancy

Joe

Wendy

Jack

Ian

Jimmy

Jeff

Derek

Jacqui

Emile

Gabriel

Madame Blais

Billy

Bill

Theodore

May they all Rest in Peace.  

Lost friends, husbands, beaus and loved ones.

I am approaching my 79th birthday, May 1st, so this list takes on new meaning.  Today, I thank God for my health, my children and my grandchildren.

______________

Note: ** ex-husband

            * former beaus

Memory lane....

Seventeen years ago, Marlene Shepherd, owner of that fabulous store 'Shepherd's', asked me to take part in her Christmas ad campaign.  I was flabbergasted, but thrilled of course.  I was 62 and this campaign was brilliant because all the models she chose were of a "certain" age.  Why?  Because we had the money!

Here are a couple of newspaper ads that ran in 'The Ottawa Citizen':

I bought and still wear that beautiful red jacket.

Here we are, the models of the mature women ad campaign.

It was quite the Christmas.  The campaign also included radio spots, which I had to record in a studio in the Market.  My salad days for sure!

 

The highlight of my year

Every year, Hilary and I enjoy a girls' weekend for her birthday.  We stay on the Gold Floor of the magnificent Palliser Hotel in Calgary.  I use the time to talk about anything and everything -- including observations of fellow diners that tell us what to wear, what not to wear and how to behave.  Or not.  

This year, she turned 12, here is a little visual record of our time:

Enjoying the Gold Floor.

The famous Calgary Tower, where we had lunch in the revolving restaurant at the very top.

The magnificent Rockies, viewed from the Calgary Tower.

My beautiful granddaughter.

Great swimmer!

So many desserts!

The Saddle Dome, seen from the top of the Calgary Tower.

____________________________

This came across my feed, unrelated to our weekend, but Barton's outfit on the left is a perfect example of a screaming fashion botchup -- such as the ones I warned Hilary about during our weekend observations.  Camouflage pants and blue shoes?!  And to think, we are giving her a clothing allowance via the CBC!