As a result I’ve had no choice but to write a bookmarklet that automatically hides all of his comments when you click it.

To use it in Firefox or Chrome (probably Safari as well), just drag and drop the URL below (the one that says Throttle) to your bookmark’s toolbar. In Internet Explorer, right click on the link and choose “Add to favourites” (not sure how you get it into your browser toolbar from there, but if you know, go ahead and add a comment below.

Throttle

Once you’ve done that, all you have to do to use it is click it while reading any RTH article or post. All of Turbo’s comments will instantly disappear and you can go on reading without with his absurd trolling.

P.S. This also just happens to automatically downvote his comments too…

UPDATE: Here’s a version that takes care of Hammy:

Whammy

He’s curious. When he hears something, he asks, “What was that? What was that noise?” He loves to pick things up from the ground – sticks, rocks, whatever. To his mother’s horror, the other day he scavenged a french fry from the floor of the mall and happily ate it. In other words, he is resourceful.

He is observant. He can spot a sliver of the moon in broad daylight, when it scarcely looks different than a scrap of cloud. He learns quickly and is unafraid of embarrassing himself. I’m in a constant pattern of language instruction with him, introducing new words and asking him to repeat them. He does very well at it. I like to throw some curveballs in there too. “That’s called ‘manipulation’, Oliver. Can you say ‘manipulation’?” “Manish-ship-ship-shun.” “Can you say controversial?” “Con-oh-SERial!”

Although his vocabulary may not have caught up to mine yet, he has already superseded my musical ability. His rendition of Gincle Gincle Little Star is far sweeter to the ear than my best attempts. He is also adept at filling in the parts of songs he doesn’t know with semi-melodic mumbling, which will put him in good stead when he needs to sing the national anthem later on in life.

He loves to be tickled. When he’s had enough, he lets me know: “Daddy, dop!” In general he is not afraid to let me know when I’m being a pain in the ass. “No, Daddy. Go way, Daddy!”

On the other hand, he doesn’t like it when I leave. We have interesting conversations in the front hallway on weekday mornings when he tries to prevent me from going to work.

“No Daddy go!”

“Daddy has to go to work.”

“Why Daddy work?”

“Daddy has to work so that he can make money.”

“Why money?”

“Because we need money so that we can buy food.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to eat.”

“Why?”

Why indeed? I used to believe that when I had a child, I would always try to explain things to that child and never resort to the pat answers I’d hear from other parents (“just because”). My child is only two and he is already defeating this goal. Why DO we need to eat?

You can answer that question, sure, but ask enough “whys”, and you’ll find yourself trying to explain the nature and reasons for existence of the universe – to a two-year-old.

Then again, he’s probably got as good a chance of understanding it as most. In fact, I think he’s taught me far more about the ultimate nature of life and existence than I could ever teach him.

He keeps drifting to the left to see if he can pass. He can’t, which makes him frustrated. He probably has a crap job and a worse family, which are stressing him out. Or whoever he’s talking to on his cellphone isn’t telling him what he wants to hear.

He finally gets a chance to pass. Steps on it to make a point and roars past. “Man,” you think, “I really, really hope that jerkoff gets pulled over a few blocks ahead. I’ll smirk as I drive past. Maybe give him a friendly wave. That prick.”

That never, ever happens. But the other night, I got a tiny glimpse of what it would feel like.

I’m coasting in to an intersection. It’s a four-way stop. Some dude is rolling in to the intersection at the same time, opposite to me but turning left (down the street on my right). That means only one of us can go. We’re going to have to stop together, and then one of us is going to have to yield to the other. Either he’ll make his left turn, or I’ll head straight through.

I don’t mind yielding – I’m not in any rush. But he doesn’t give me the chance. He decides to preempt our little negotiation by not stopping at all. He just keeps going, makes his turn, and heads down the street on my right.

Unfortunately for him, we weren’t the only people waiting at the intersection. A third vehicle had arrived at the same time on the same street this guy just headed down. This vehicle, it just so happens, is a police vehicle, driven by a rather large police officer. At the moment I see him his hand is raised, palm upward, in a gesture that clearly communicates exactly the same thing I’m thinking: WTF?

I pause. The cop doesn’t. He u-turns and heads after the dude.

The moment is over, but the feeling remains: a rare, sweet satisfaction.

Lately he’s been learning how to jump, which he does by bending all the way forward, in a full crouch with his chest horizontal to the ground, and then extending upwards as vigorously as he can. This earns him about an inch of air.

In the morning, though, when I get him out of his crib, he holds onto the side of it and jumps up and down like a maniac. This technique gives him a lot more height, and it’s very funny to watch. It makes getting him out of bed in the morning doubly enjoyable. It’s hard to stay irritated with a Monday morning when someone else’s reaction to the new day is this much excitement.

Eating is always an adventure. An activity that I view as one of life’s great pleasures is a mixed bag for Oliver. Certain foods are always in favour (any type of pasta is met with the exclamation “noose!”, which means “noodles”), while the mere proximity of others is offensive, even if no attempt is being made to force the issue (broccoli may not be in contact with any part of his high chair).

His refusal to eat certain healthy foods has resulted in us playing the deception card, a parental favourite, by cutting food up and mixing it in with yogurt (another sure winner). Oliver enjoyed every bite of a wretched mixture of yogurt and chopped asparagus and chicken.

Last night, while at the in-laws, Oliver and I were indoors while the rest of the family was outside, and he shut a heavy door on his finger. He immediately started screaming in pain, stamping his feet in anguish and holding out his hand for me to look at. I could see that he did not understand why it hurt so much. This confusion is tragic to me. Growing up, he will often hurt, and many times will not know why, just like the rest of us.

This morning, although his fingernail was purple, it wasn’t bothering him any more. I’d say that now he’s less likely to play with doors, but I don’t think that’s true. Instead, he’ll probably just be a little better at it. The resilience of children and their determination to get good at stuff is amazing.

As Oliver gets older, our relationship is changing. I used to take care of him as a baby, now, I’m getting to know him as a person. Few experiences in my life have felt this meaningful.

I contacted the person who sent me the photograph originally and she was kind enough to provide a full-sized version of the photo, which you can see here:

Wolf, full-size

I’m no photo expert but I think this goes a long way to disproving the critics.

I know it may seem hard to believe that they did indeed have a close encounter with a wild animal that is notoriously shy, but these things do happen. The rarity of the event just makes it all the more incredible.

The photo was taken in Campbell River, British Columbia.

The people in this photograph were hiking in Seal Bay Park. At the end of their walk, they found some butter mushrooms on a mossy log, and were inspecting them. One of them decided to take a photograph, but not being terribly good at photography, the photo was taken off center.

When they returned home and downloaded the pictures off of the camera they got quite a surprise – a large animal that appears to be a wolf heading straight towards them.

They theorize that the flash from the camera scared it off, although I don’t know if it would be a danger or not. Certainly, it’s not the kind of animal you would normally want to be too close to!

EDIT: If you think this photo is fake, check out the full sized version.

EDIT 2: Here’s the story behind the photo as told by the woman in the foreground whose back is to the camera:

This wolf picture incident has just been crazy! It’s spreading around like wildfire! For sure you can use the pic if you’d like. The story behind it is pretty ridiculous. I was visiting my brother, niece and my niece’s mother with my mom in Courtenay, BC. Me, my mom, XXXX and XXXX went for a hike at Seal Bay Park. This picture was taken at the end of the walk…me, XXXX and XXXX were inspecting some really cool butter mushrooms on a mossy log. My mom decided to take a picture, but she’s not very good at it, so it came out totally off center (imagine if she was actually good at taking pictures- we never would have even seen it!!!). We didn’t notice anything at the time, and the “wolf” wasn’t even noticed until after getting home, and my mom had put the pictures on the computer. She didn’t even notice at first, but my other brother was like “what the hell is that??!!”. So, yeah. I don’t even know if it is a wolf, but there were no dogs or anything! around. It’s just a pretty creepy picture- that’s all I know! And it was actually my mom who took the picture (I’m in it- in the gray jacket), so credit for the photo isn’t necessary. Well, that’s my story!

Literally pen to paper, since I’ve been writing on a pad, the old-fashioned way, while trying to soothe Oliver to sleep.

So, if you’re interested, read away.

I’ll take offensive words over deeds

The disgust heaped on Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad since his speech at Columbia University in New York has been remarkable for both its ferocity and its hypocrisy.

Ontario Tories Putting Fund in Fundamentalism

It isn’t difficult to predict what would happen to religious schools if they were publicly funded. Existing religious schools would grow larger. The number of religious schools would increase, as it would suddenly become affordable and perhaps even profitable for even small religious groups to open schools.

Enrolment in public schools would drop. The more successful religious schools became, the more the public system would decline. This, in turn, would have a ripple effect across cities.

Dreschel dumps on pedestrian piazza proposal

Mayor Fred Eisenberger’s proposal to pedestrianize Gore Park is causing a lot of buzz among Hamilton residents, especially in the downtown core.

The idea is bold, innovative, and exciting. It’s an idea that has been proven to be effective over and over again in cities in other nations, especially in Europe. And it’s something that would never have been proposed under former Mayor DiIanni.

All that means that Spectator columnist Andrew Dreschel was bound not to like it.

On the other hand, if you were just dropping by to see if any new pics of Oliver were available, you came to the right place.

Oliver at three or four days old – thanks to Tim for this great photo

I’m discovering that there are things people were right about and wrong about these early days of his life.

One of the most common remarks I heard before Oliver’s birth was how sleepless I’d be, and how much his schedule would dominate my life. I didn’t really understand exactly why this was, or how it could be – don’t newborns sleep most of the time? Can they really be that much work?

Well, they are, and then some. They live on an approximately 3-hour cycle: shit, eat, soothe, sleep, repeat. Sometimes he mixes it up with shit, eat, shit, soothe, sleep, repeat. Or the ever popular shit, eat, piss while changing diaper forcing change of clothes, soothe, sleep, repeat.

A cycle this short is taxing because we must constantly work to accommodate it. My personal schedule runs more along the lines of shit, eat, eat, eat, sleep, spaced out over 24 hours. You can see how these schedules are not very compatible.

But then there are times when he is quietly alert and awake and cuter than I could have ever imagined someone could be. Or when I lay on my side with his head nestled in my arm, warm body cozied up to my chest, occasionally murmuring or letting out a contented sigh, while I read a book.

Those are moments of quiet relaxation and enjoyment to cherish.

I cherish the other moments too. When I’m changing his smelly diaper and he’s wriggling around with his naked bum in the air, or even when he’s screaming full tilt, he’s still awfully cute.

The other thing I heard all of the time was how my perspective on life would dramatically change. I heard this from clients, from my father, from friends who have children.

That’s something I haven’t felt at all. Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet, but I suspect that the real reason is perhaps because I had already adopted that new perspective. Nine months is plenty of time for preparation.

The last week-and-a-half has been crazy. One thing that I think every parent I’ve talked to is right about is that it’s only going to get crazier – and that Oliver is going to keep me on my toes for life.

Bring it on, little man. Welcome to the big wide world.

PS Oliver has an online photo gallery.

Other semi-recent writings on RTH that I haven’t linked to from here include As Spring Arrives, Perennial Issues and Guerilla Gardeners Resurface and Vanishing into the American Gulag.

I hope you’re having a great summer!

Those making this case [for atheism lately] have been dubbed the “new atheists.” They have also been called fanatics who are dogmatic, zealous and intolerant of other views — the mirror image of religious extremists. As one English university dean said in the Guardian, Richard Dawkins is “just as fundamentalist as the people setting off bombs in the Tube.”

Less Olympian thinkers have portrayed strident atheists as hacking away at the bonds of morality, which must inevitably lead to various forms of depravity ranging from the sexual to the genocidal.

Don’t you know Stalin was an atheist? That’s the way it goes. First you read Richard Dawkins. Then you have an abortion. Then you’re putting a fresh coat of paint on the Gulag.

This frames the debate in a pleasingly symmetrical way. Over on that side are the insane religious fanatics who fly jets into skyscrapers and march around with signs saying “God Hates Fags.” Over there are fanatical atheists. Between the two extremes are sensible moderates who take the Goldilocks approach to faith and reason.

He goes on to sum up the famous atheist Richard Dawkins’ message:

If you claim that something is true, I will examine the evidence which supports your claim; if you have no evidence, I will not accept that what you say is true and I will think you a foolish and gullible person for believing it so.

That’s it. That’s the whole, crazy, fanatical package.

Well worth a full read.