blinkit

Web Poll Nation: Pro-police, anti-everything else

WMD: Latest Courier column, divining vox populi via the weekly web polls. Source is here, copy reproduced below:

'Web Poll Nation' took the pulse of Vancouver in 2007

Poll participants want more cops, fewer mascots, no socks and sandals

Barry Link, Vancouver Courier

Published: Wednesday, December 19, 2007

We stay awake at night wondering who you are. We wait breathlessly for your responses. We live by your word, thankful that you bothered to answer our tiny, fragile little question of the week.

You are the people who answer the Courier's weekly online web polls. We adore you. And this year, in our annual analysis of your answers to our questions, we're giving you a name: with apologies to Stephen Colbert, you are Web Poll Nation. Be proud.

So who was WPN in 2007? Tough. Really tough. In the competition to win the affection of WPN, the Vancouver Police Department was in. The civic strike, the mayor, New Age mysticism and the 2010 Olympics were out. Trees, surprisingly were also out, unless it meant dissing the Games. WPN liked sticking it to the Games.

The citizens of WPN tired of crime this year, with nearly half of them saying the run of gang violence made them feel unsafe. Three quarters report it diminished their idea of Vancouver as Lotusland.

As a result, the VPD received solid support. Slightly more than half of WPN said Tasers should remain in the department's inventory. Sixty-seven per cent supported the VPD proposal that chronic criminals be shipped back to their home provinces. Fifty-six per cent applauded putting more cops on the streets, and nearly 70 per cent backed spending more money to do so.

WPN's cooing at cops, however, had boundaries. Former VPD chief Jamie Graham's idea to put Support Our Troops stickers on police cars earned lukewarm support at 44 per cent. Get the criminals, forget the politics.

Politics seemed to annoy WPN, and its members had absolutely no love this year for Mayor Sam Sullivan. Three quarters didn't believe the mayor when he said he wanted the supervised injection site to remain open. Three quarters urged him to stay out of labour negotiations. Sixty-three per cent remained baffled about why the lengthy civic strike happened, while roughly the same number didn't expect it to last for months. The endless, meaningless strike made WPN grumpy, with three quarters decreeing no job deserves the 318,838 sweet ones city manager Judy Rogers received as her salary.

Like a date from Toronto, WPN was notoriously difficult to impress. Sixty-four per cent shot down the notion that giant robotic versions of NPA parks board commissioners installed in Stanley Park would create new revenue for the park. Sixty-eight per cent said Valentine's Day is the Air Supply of holiday observances. Three quarters said women should not be jealous of men's ability to grow playoff beards. One third didn't bother to celebrate Canada Day.

Fifty-six per cent rejected the notion the Law of Attraction, the theme of the bestselling book and DVD The Secret, would attract a delicious and healthy organic vegan stew into their lives just when they needed it the most. We're concerned about the 44 per cent who said it would. Same goes for the 42 per cent of WPN who harboured a secret desire to become a ninja.

WPN could be savage in 2007. Nearly three quarters called socks and sandals a summer fashion crime. Eighty-four per cent agreed the 8,400 people who showed up at GM Place for the unveiling of the Canucks' new uniform need to get a life. Fifty-eight per cent said their very own child was not a star in the making. Ouch.

And don't get WPN started on the 2010 Olympics. Nearly half of WPN rated the culturally baffling Olympic mascots as "really, really, really" unimportant to their lives. Most of the rest complained they didn't represent Vancouver. And while a hefty 71 per cent of WPN thought too much time and attention was lavished on a bunch of trees in the wake of the storm that flattened huge parts of Stanley Park, more than half thought some of the bajillions earmarked for the Olympics should go to the park's restoration. Note to VANOC: you got beat out by a grove of fallen firs.

Finally, nature was a minefield for WPN's swaying emotions. Three quarters would pay more for cage-free eggs and rejected the proposal that domesticated apes were the answer to our labour shortage. Yet only 55 per cent felt guilty for accelerating climate change through their carbon-spewing lifestyle. Maybe WPN has already slashed the carbon output and is far ahead of the curve.

In closing, we note WPN felt reasonably happy and considered itself lucky this year, with 70 per cent of the citizenry finding a reason to be thankful every day.

We're thankful, too. See you for more questions in January at www.vancourier.com.

Nervousness and No. 6

WMD: My interview with Tricia Helfer, better known as No. 6 on BSG, here rendered in my column:

Down-to-earth star committed to work, fans, and cats

From an Alberta farm to a faraway galaxy

Barry Link, Vancouver Courier

Published: Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Near the beginning of our interview in a downtown Starbucks last week, Tricia Helfer couldn't stop scratching her leg. "Sorry," she said self-consciously, and followed up with a quick laugh.

Helfer, a part-time Vancouverite best known for playing the steamy robot chick Cylon No. 6 on the critically acclaimed and locally shot Battlestar Galactica, was just a little bit nervous. That's when I decided I liked her.

It's admittedly not hard to like the 33-year-old Helfer. Life has been almost too good to her. An impossibly attractive five-foot, 10-inches, she stumbled as a teenager into a modelling career that took her around the world. Later as an adult, she started a second career as an actress by risking everything in a move to Hollywood and quickly landing a key role on one of the most talked about television shows of the past decade. She's smart as a whip, happily married (to a Los Angeles-based lawyer) and is building a vacation dream home--off the grid, of course, as an example of environmental responsibility--a tractor sprint away from the Alberta family farm where she grew up and to which she maintains close ties. She also rescues and adopts cats.

She's personable, in the forthright way that girls who grow up on farms can be. She's got acting chops that have yet to be fully appreciated. And her nervousness, while reassuring to my own nerves jangling with the reality of talking to a hot actress in a public place, was a sign she took the interview seriously. That marked her as an honest professional, which, combined with her emerging talent, makes her worth watching.

Helfer returned to town last week from her California base to promote the film Walk All Over Me, a Robert Cuffley-directed black comedy in which she plays a Vancouver dominatrix whose tightly bound world is undone by the arrival of a would-be younger protege. BSG fans, who range from traditional science fiction geeks to such decidely non-geek bastions as the New York Times, would say her latest role is a natural progression from her TV character. Played by Helfer with a liquid sultriness and a reservoir of sadism simmering below the surface, Cylon No. 6 is the prototypical S&M domme, alternately seducing and bullying a hapless scientist into betraying humankind. This sense of Helfer has translated into much of the media coverage surrounding the film's release--as if latex was her best and only fit.

But in BSG, Helfer's No. 6 is a conflicted soul who demonstrates surprising moments of remorse, characteristics brought alive by the actress as much as they're suggested by the writers. Helfer accomplishes similar complexity with her role in Cuffley's film. The easy choice, she said, would have been to play up the role's sexuality. "I played Celene," she added, referring to her character who we never see nude or with a client and whose profession is used largely as a plot device and not an opportunity for gratuitousness. At the start of the film, Celene, initially seen in a black wig that's almost in deliberate contrast to the platinum blonde of No. 6, is firmly in control of her work and what she calls her "life plan." By the end of the movie, she's at the mercy of fate and dependant on the resourcefulness of others. Her Cylon cousin is in a galaxy far, far away.

Helfer is proud of Walk All Over Me but agonizes about its traditionally meagre Canadian promotional budget. It's not the first indie film she's appeared in, and by her account, it won't be her last. She's eager to promote Canadian films and thinks it's a shame Canadians don't support more of their rarely observed indigenous cinema.

Helfer is also refreshingly invested in her BSG mainstay. Far from delivering William Shatner's infamous "Get a life" line from Saturday Night Live, she enjoys meeting fans of the show. Their intelligence impresses her. They, in turn, would be impressed by the intelligence and passion with which she discusses the series. She loves to talk it up, analyzing which season was strong or weak or revealing how members of the cast hold detailed discussions of some of the show's science fiction concepts.

Helfer's future after BSG, which enters its final season next year, is indefinite. She plans to continue acting, and eventually producing, with Cate Blanchett as her role model of a character actor who can take lead roles. The construction of the Alberta vacation home may be turned into an environmentally based reality TV show, and there are talks with agents and directors about other projects.

Whether Helfer's nervous about her future, I couldn't tell. If she is, it's a good sign.

blink@vancourier.com

Lessons from the Santa Claus Parade

WMD: The original is here. My cut and paste follows:

Santa Claus Parade a lesson in pleasing the public

Crowds, cops and Christian marching bands

Barry Link, Special to Vancouver Courier

Published: Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Sometimes a parade is just a parade. Sometimes it teaches you things about the city in which you live. Such was the case with the annual Rogers Santa Claus Parade, which I attended Sunday.

The first lesson was relearning how downtown has become a series of sunless canyons, courtesy of the high rows of buildings that rise up in the city centre like the walls of Mordor. At 1 p.m., thousands of us lined up along Howe to wait for the parade which started far to the northwest on Georgia, and despite a relatively clear sky, we froze our butts off. Sunlight was a distant memory, thanks to the towers which block it out. High buildings, which in Vancouver routinely breach whatever's left of city policy on height restrictions, are fun for architects, politicians and the hyper-wealthy who can live on the very top floors, where the solar rays kiss their gently exfoliated faces. Down below, at the bottom of the urban food chain, it's the windowless freezer section of shadows.

The second lesson was a reminder of how much we love military veterans in the 21st century. The biggest applause from the crowd around me during the parade was reserved for the contingents of the Canadian Legion and similar groups: elderly men and women still marching smartly with flags and uniforms. The applause--from a crowd of young parents and children representing a broad range of ethnicities--was spontaneous and affectionate.

The respect afforded to the veterans contrasted sadly with the tepid crowd reaction for the squad of RCMP officers in the parade. Once an international symbol of pride and a bloodless Canadian approach to policing, the red serge is stained, and here's the third lesson. We love our dying old soldiers because they volunteered for the worst war in history and helped throw back fascism. We're conflicted, if not embarrassed, about the RCMP because some of its officers killed an innocent man less than half a minute after first meeting him. Talk about a massive failure to communicate.

Sunday's crowd communicated just fine with the Vancouver Police Department, which brings the fourth lesson: never underestimate the PR value of horses, dogs and sirens. The RCMP contingent marched on foot, which for a "mounted" force made them seem practically naked. The VPD had its horse squad out, and the crowd loved them. The crowd also enjoyed the VPD's dogs, motorcycle cops, caravan of patrol cars and trucks, marching band and even community policing volunteers. All that was lacking was the department's emergency tactical team rappelling from a chopper and taking down the members of a squat: they, too, would have received cheers.

Vancouver cops like their Tasers as much as any police force. They have shot down the mentally ill, gone illegally medieval on drug dealers in Stanley Park, and blocked attempts by other police forces to investigate alleged VPD abuses against Downtown Eastside residents. But on Sunday, the local constabulary was smiles and happy waves, and, unlike the glum squad of Mounties, the VPD cops were unafraid to say hello and make eye contact with people in the crowd. That's the fifth lesson: if in the future you're going to pepper spray me senseless at a political protest or cancelled rock concert, please look me in the eye and let me pet your big hulking dog. I'll be remarkably forgiving.

The sixth lesson from Sunday's parade was divinely musical: God is alive and clearly inspires people with trumpets and drums. There were half a dozen marching bands from high schools in the parade, but the best undoubtedly came from an Abbotsford Christian school, which has the pedagogically ambitious vision statement of preparing students "for life and forever." Sure, Mennonite kids from Abby seem a tad too Stepford. But they make great music. Avowedly atheist marching bands, you're on notice.

The final lesson was courtesy of Vancouver-Burrard Liberal MLA Lorne Mayencourt, who wished everyone a charmingly hearty Merry Christmas from the back of his convertible. It was a nice gesture, but weird even for Mayencourt. I'm old school, largely because I pay attention to old school inventions like calendars. Wishing someone Christmas cheer on Nov. 24 is as relevant as telling someone on Sept. 30 to have a scary Halloween, or shooting off Canada Day fireworks on June 1. But admittedly, it was the Santa Claus Parade, and I was there, too. Sometimes you have to go with the flow. So here goes: Merry Christmas to our readers, and while we're at it, a blessed Hanukkah/Ramadan/Miscellaneous, too.

When maps weren't Google ... backing the Challenger

WMD: I had intended to post here weeks ago that the blog was on hiatus, due to my heavy work schedule. For all intents and purposes, it is, but since I don't like the blank page that now greets people because of my lack of posting, some catchup with columns that did not make this space are due ...

First, from early November: defending the Challenger Map, the big, wooden, topographical map any B.C. kid who went to the PNE until the late 1990s would have memories of. The original is here. My cut and paste is here:

Challenger Map offers still picture of vibrant B.C.

Province's geographical heritage worth saving

Barry Link, Special to Vancouver Courier

Published: Wednesday, November 07, 2007

If Europe has art and architecture, Asia has ancient culture and philosophy, and the U.S. has lots of guns, what does B.C. have to offer the world? Geography. Say what you will about Vancouver's vibrant multiculturalism, our shiny downtown towers and diverse array of award-winning restaurants (albeit temporarily minus Rob Feenie)--our standout feature remains the one thing none of us had any hand in creating. That is, the gobsmackingly beautiful backdrop of the mountains, the forests and the sea.

Go further inland, along the Fraser and up the No. 1 or the Coquihalla highways, and you'll cross roughly parallel lines of foothills, mountain ranges, plateaus, rivers and cold, deep lakes, all carved out over thousands of years by the unimaginably relentless forces of glaciation, water and wind. That hard, physical nature is our truest legacy as British Columbians, whether we've lived here 60 years or six months, and it's why Germans, among others, are buying every scrap of B.C. forest land or beach front property in sight. They love our landscape, and when you meet them, they can't stop talking about it. Seriously, you have to kick them in the shins to make them stop.

A great way to shut them up would be to place them in front of the Challenger Map, and until 1998, that was possible by taking them down to the PNE. Painstakingly assembled over seven years from nearly a million pieces of quarter-inch plywood by George Challenger and his family, the Challenger Map is the greatest woodworking project in B.C. history. For years, before redevelopment of the PNE rendered it homeless nine years ago, it was seen by generations of fairgoers who would gawk open- mouthed at the contours of the valleys, high places and water ways. It showed in impressive detail the outlines of a wild topography that extended far beyond Vancouver's tiny, tame footprint. As a kid, when I first saw the map on a school trip, it was a lesson in how big this province is and how small my place in it is even now. Contrary to popular thinking, the "rest" of B.C. isn't Vancouver's backyard. Vancouver is the little concrete pad at B.C.'s side door. Through that door is where our wealth comes from and where much of our food is grown. It's also where the animals and trees are that show up in those Best Place on Earth commercials.

The best thing about the map was that it was physical. It occupied space, and although it was cordoned off, you knew if allowed you could reach out to touch it. The next best thing about the map was its silence. It told its own story by simply being there, the way a real mountain or ocean shoreline tells you its tale through their essential silence. Interpretive centres and Google Maps are unnecessary.

In a city of noise and constant stimulation, such silence is hard to come by, and that's why we should be thankful for the effort of people like Alan Clapp, whose Challenger Map Advisory Group worked hard to save the map, and business people like Larry Rosenberg, who gave up valuable rent revenue to house the map in his moving company's warehouse. Clapp and his group had a straightforward idea: preserve the map, restore it and exhibit it in a prominent location as a reminder of B.C.'s geographical heritage for everyone to see.

Unfortunately, their simple idea met unbelievable indifference, especially when they unsuccessfully attempted to place it in the new trade and convention centre, where it would have told thousands of visitors each year the physical story of B.C. The mayor's office under Larry Campbell dismissed the map as a sentimental relic. The business lobby found no economic value in it. And at 80 by 76 feet, the size of the map was too expensive a square footage for anything merely educational. If you're lucky enough to find an empty 80 by 76 patch of land anywhere downtown, Bob Rennie has already planted a sales centre on it.

But now the map has won a reprieve, and the provincial government, which ought to have carried the ball in the first place in rescuing the map, has kicked in money to move it to temporary digs in Richmond. Clapp and his group are still looking for a permanent home for the map, and they hope to get school kids involved in restoring it.

I hope there's a happy ending, and the map is restored and updated, perhaps by 2010, in a new home. Because when all those visitors, including even more chattering Germans hungry for natural terrain, show up for the Games, we can quietly take them aside to the map. They'll see who and where we are, and the amazing lay of the land we call home.