We’re a day early due to the long weekend on both sides of the border (Thanksgiving in the North and Columbus Day in the South). We decided that this show, regarding the Steyn/MacLeans verdict was too important to miss, so we’re giving you an extra day with it!

This week we welcome Pete Vere, co-author of The Tyranny of Nice, to talk about some of the lesser-known human rights complaints in Canada, as well as to discuss the Steyn verdict.

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Canadians, LISTEN TO THIS SHOW before you vote on Tuesday!

From Free Mark Steyn

As there are many un-famous Canadians suffering under the “Tyranny of Nice,” Binky’s work at Free Mark Steyn isn’t done yet. Just like the late Martin Luther King JR is still invoked to deal with the scourge of inequality, so must Steyn still be invoked to deal with those who seek to silence satire, polemics, and even straight journalism. Could you imagine if these crazy Muslims had decided that the news was offensive on 9/11?

The Steyn verdict is coming down today. For real this time. As soon as it’s in, we’ll be recording Monday’s Brass Balls Radio with Pete Vere, co-author of The Tyranny of Nice. We’ll also try to get Mark himself back on again soon.

UPDATE: The BC Human Rights Tribunal threw out the case! It’s over, and Steyn is finally presumed innocent. No word yet from the Sockpuppets.

I’ve had a couple of writing assignments that have kinda clogged up my busy goat-feeding schedule. Because of that, I may not be able to present you with my first e-book on October 17 as previously discussed. I will try, but no promises. Meredith is barking for it, as she read the first half and is dying to know how the story ends. I know, but I’m not telling.

Send money. I had a look at my online account yesterday, and I am so badly overdrawn that I hope one day to reach zero. PayPal button is to the right. Alternatively, go buy me some cheap Ford & GM stock. I just wanna see what it’s going to do over the next 12-18 months. Curiosity killed the Canadian?

ACORN. Jeez, really? They’re getting busted in almost every bloody state, and still The Messiah is ahead in the polls? Is that with or without the Dallas Cowboys voting in Nevada?

We ought to breed these. They’re so goddam cute - and my Chihuahua can play with them!

I haven’t completely worked out the details on this yet, but hear me out:

You get sick, maybe a throat infection. Nothing overly serious, but terribly, terribly uncomfortable. Your life is miserable. So you go running to the doctor who prescribes strong antibiotics. You take the antibiotics, the throat infection goes away. Yay. But there are side effects: You get a yeast infection. You gain 5lbs. And the next time you get sick, it’s ten times worse than it was the first time. In fact, your body will no longer react to the same antibiotic, because the problem is now bigger than before. You suffer terribly, for a long time, wishing you had just rode it out the first time.

Ok…

Your bank lends money to deadbeats. The deadbeats don’t pay it back, leading to a financial backlash and low markets. You might lose your job in the weakened economy. You may lose your house. Your life is miserable. So you go running to the government, who prescribes a strong bailout. You approve the bailout, take the money. Yay. But there are side effects: Your taxes go up considerably. It’s a false economy. The bank continues to lend money to deadbeats. There can be no more bailouts because the government is out of money and is in deficit spending. The problem is bigger than before. You suffer terribly, for a long, long time, wishing you had just rode it out the first time.

Man that was boring, wasn’t it? The old man kept calling us his “friends”, and JugEars was virtually unintelligible. I was Twittering it, which was kinda fun. Quote of the night went to some guy I’ve never heard of before:

Not a bad bloody idea.

I made the terrible choice to use “my friends” as my cue in the Debate Drinking Game. My head is going to hurt tomorrow! If you email me, no capital letters, please.

Since the end of the debate, Beth has headed to bed to get her beauty sleep before her radio stint tomorrow (yeah, I know), Stacy has fallen off the Internet, so I’ve been flirting shamelessly with Hackbarth (a longtime tequila-swilling pal).

I’m off to take a couple of Advil and catch some zzzzz’s. Don’t wake me too early, and be sure there’s coffee when I get up. Oh, and a foot rub would not be the worst thing you could do. Beware of the Chihuahua at the end of the bed.

He was in my dream last night. Nothing naughty - we used to be friends when I was 13. Sometimes the mind does some recycling while you sleep, and in this case, my mind recycled Frank. We were pals - I was part of the letter-writing team when his parents shipped him off to military school in 1989.

Back in the day, we all used to hang at Frank’s house. He was going out with my best friend Tanya at the time. He and I stayed in touch for a while after they broke up, and I would still head to his mom’s house from time to time. They were such nice people, even when Frank was going through his terrible teens. His mom… I wish I could remember her name, but I remember her face and her French cigarettes. I remember the two sitting rooms (You kids stay in that one, please!), the big basement where it was so cool on hot days, and the mirrored dining room that looked way bigger than it actually was. Frank used to “play guitar”, even though he only knew the opening riff to Metallica’s Battery. Over and over and over again we heard that riff.

Anyway, like I said, Frank showed up at Chez Snooze last night, just to say hi. We walked around some places we used to walk around. We hung out. We drank some beers. It was so nice to see him, if only in a dream. So today, warm with the feeling, I googled him.

OMFG! My pimply teenage pal is a stunning smokin’ hawt male model!

Sicnarf, I am so proud of you! You are so beautiful, and you still have that gorgeous little smirk you always had. I miss you, and I hope you are making a success of yourself. You’ve come a long way since the scooter gang, huh?

The Conservative government increased funding for the arts during its time in office, and now it wants to cut them by 2%. Those that don’t have enough talent to sell their work on their own are shrieking about it. In this difficult economy, to have artistes howling for handouts is insulting not only to the government and its punditry, but to average working Canadians. The Atwood is a gazillionaire - why can’t she cough up a dime or two to those she deems worthy of patronage, and leave the government to provide social safety nets only to those who really need them: the disabled and the old?

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Coming up at GOTR:

Tomorrow is Brass Balls Radio. Have you subscribed in iTunes yet?

Tuesday night is the next presidential debate. You can catch me over on Twitter, fighting with the moonbats who populate the place. Gag.

October 17th I will be launching my first work of fiction here at GOTR. Details to follow.

Not the John McCain that reaches across the aisle, or the one who wants to “work together” or the the one who would have been uproariously boo’d at CPAC back in February had he not bussed in his own teams of cheerleaders.

I mean, where is the John McCain that the conservatives so desperately need? Real conservatives - not RINOs. They need someone who is going to stand up and scream about the injustices of congress, and the Democrats, and the terrorists who manage and raise funds for his opponent’s campaign.

I read two great posts this morning. The first is from Right Truth:

And the second is from Malkin:

Michelle’s commentors get it, spelling out their dissatisfaction in no uncertain terms.

If I had a shot of tequila for every time he referenced Waziristan…

Seriously… ask Steyn to mention a far-flung place, or a terrorist hangout, or something more remote than his home in New Hampshire, and the answer will inevitably be Waziristan.

Not this namby-pamby “assault” euphemism that it’s called today? Perhaps the reason sentences are so light is because we stopped using the offensive language to describe the heinous crimes.

I am taking this Toronto Star article and reprinting in full, to allow you to see just how much dancing around the facts is done to protect the easily offended, and how it ends up skewing the verdict and sentencing:

Disgusting. The gang-RAPE of a young girl is euphemized beyond recognition, till it sounds as if she merely had her pigtails pulled in the schoolyard. Her RAPE is videotaped and broadcast, further humiliating her. And her RAPISTS get house arrest and counseling? Heck, why don’t they just get a slap on the back from the boys club, and a cool “Atta boy!”?

Justice James Keaney must not have children, or must be a bit of a sadist himself, to take this so lightly. A “one-time error in judgment”?? A girl was gang-RAPED! He is neither “Honourable” nor “Just” for these actions he has taken in punishing RAPISTS. And for the Crown to be party to this sentencing request means that this girl never had anyone on her side.

The law is an ass if we have asses practicing it. Whatever happened to lynchings, anyway?

So OJ Simpson is guilty of this bullshit robbery charge. Good. Let the rioting ensue, and let it last through Obama’s defeat in November.

In way more important news, my review of American Carol is up over at Right Pundits. Friend Krista tells me that it wasn’t playing in Toronto. Color me shocked. I hope she got in the Jeep and drove to Buffalo to see it.

Good morning world. I’ve been with you for 32 years, as of today. The parents that welcomed me into the world, along with other loving friends and family, are all gone. The house is gone. My husband is gone.

I am reborn.

Here, on the farm in rural Kansas, I have to find a way to start life anew. To take those first tentative steps and learn to walk again. I have to remember to breathe.

It isn’t easy. It’s downright scary. I want to crawl into bed next to my mother and hide. But I can do no such thing. There is no mother, and there is nowhere to hide.

Today is my birthday, a cause for celebration. Or so I’ve always thought. Yet I really don’t feel like celebrating today. I feel like crying. And even that activity must be rationed. No one can hear, no one can see. Shhh. Quietly now, wipe away that tear before someone notices.

And there’s no fucking coffee.

If only we’d paid the extra hundred bucks and sprung for the puppy with a head!

Either put the bearded ones in permanent solitary, or kill ‘em. I mean hey - that’s what they want for us!

Wool research.

Jesus Christ, I’m in the wrong business.

Eva Peron, socialist goddess. The children sang:

Barack Obama, community organizer. The children sang:

It’s Birthday Week once again! On Friday, I will turn 32 for the first time. I may do it again next year - I’m undecided. Anyway, now’s a good time to show your love by getting in my Top Spots or hitting the PayPal button on the right.

I know, the economy sucks. That’s why your little gift will mean oh-so-much to me!

Or, go order me a copy of Tyranny of Nice!

Are you a mouth-breather? Are you idiocratic? Do you believe in democracy in its truest sense? Think Gutenberg did a good thing bringing books to the people?

Well, the National Editor of the Ottawa Citizen hates you.

The Players: AP - Andrew Potter, National Editor; KO’M - Kady O’Malley; SR - Scott Reid (beer & popcorn guy)

And Scott Reid thinks all bloggers are hard-up virgins. I think we’d be kinda hard pressed to convince anyone of my virginity, after selling tail in my 20’s. Can I be a born again?