I loved the bit you spoke of on this morrning's show, December 19th on how things are not as bad as we think it is from a report out of England, University of Birgham I believe it was. I would love a link to the actual article if possible. I was driving at the time and I couldn't remember at the end of my trip.
Thanks
Carole

Normally I hold views similar to yours but on this issue I disagree. It may be that you lived in the States a bit too long and have adopted some of their cultural traits. The fact is that the US has more gun deaths per capita than any country outside of the South American drug processing countries and 48 times the per capita rate of the US and twenty time the Canadian rate. Culture in the US embraces the right to bear both for protection against the state and to protect personal property. It is also true that spending on mental health is also lower per capita. Your use of skewed statistics to defend your proposition is typical the NRA, are you a member?

Hey Jerry heard you yesterday introduce Barack Hussain Obama. Let;s just say you jumped the shark on that one and removed all doubt and pretense about you being a Islamphobe. Mark that one down as one of your most bigoted moments of the year. You should be proud.

Love your show but disagree with you on this one...politics is all about emotion, policy shouldn't be. What better time to discuss gun control whilst it is foremost on everyone's mind? Why wait for a year when nobody will care, until the next slaughter. For the record I am pro-gun but something has to give here.....

Its getting very late in the year Jerry and I still see no blog post on THE WAR ON CHRISTMAS!

Please don't disappoint

Jerry was horrified...please! This is what I do. I stopped listening to ridiculous people like Jerry Agar, Fox news and such long ago. I find it best when I ignore people like him I'm less horrified by what he spews...

A JERRY AGAR CHRISTMAS CAROL

G. Gordon Liddy wasn't dead, but he wasn't anywhere near Toronto Ontario Canada --- this must be clearly understood if anything wonderful can be taken from the tale you're about to hear...

It was a cool and damp Christmas Eve and all about the big smokey city people made their way through busy streets and crowded parking lots. The phrase: "Happy Holidays" hung on the politically correct non-offensive universally inclusive lips of the city's shoppers, merchants and grifters alike.

In the CFRB studio, John Tory was wrapping up his 'Live Drive' with a few Seasonally dirty jokes - something about Rudolph and Mrs. Claus being compared to Catherine the Great and her horse - while in the Green Room, brooding and sullen sat a white haired host pouring over newsprint and spread sheets.
The hallways of the Great 1010 rang with festive merriment as John Downs and John Moore hosted an intimate gathering of staffers preparing to end an early day and head out for some well deserved time with friends, family and loved ones. A slightly tipsy Jim Richards passed out photo copies of his posterior while a concerned Dave Agar randomly questioned the party-goers about who broke the office copy machine.
In the Green Room no decorations were hung, no music played and only scheduling requests for guests and sound bites for shows held Jerry Agar's attention.
"Idiots..." Jerry snarled to no one in particular as he scanned another page of metrics concerning recent blog posts...

-KNOCK KNOCK-

"Hey Jerry!"
Standing in the doorway, framed by a fringe of golden tinsil which adorned the hallway entrance, was the imposing, if unbathed, figure of Jim Richards (photo copies in hand). A crooked smile hanging on his lips and pressed between his girth and the ungiving frame of the door was the ever-present Brit; dressed in a horrible green and red Christmas sweater and black tights.
Richards looked as though he'd combed his hair with warm bacon and Brit may well have escaped from Santa's Mall display in the Eaton's Centre - thought Jerry. He almost said as much - opting instead for:
"What the heck do you two want? Can't you see I'm busy!?"
"Whoa Jerry....chill out. It's a party you know..."
"Life's no party, Jim - if you people would realize that we all might be better off."
"...ummm...Mr. Agar, sir?"
Brit's agenlic voice silenced Jerry's rage for a moment and he looked at her quizically.
"Mr. Agar, Jim and I were taking up a collection for..."
"STOP RIGHT THERE!"
Rising from his seat Agar felt the flush of righteousness set in and he enjoyed watching Jim and Brit shrink from the room slightly at his fluid ascent.
"Whatever you two LEFTIES are collecting for is a joke. A waste of Time. A drain on the hard working people of this city. An insult to taxpayers. An affront to ME and every other decent family oriented person within the sound of your meely-mouthed voice. I'm Angry! Look at me! I'm Raging! You've made me so crazy! Idiots like you are the reason why old people put sweater on small dogs! GET OUT!!" Putting a little extra on this last command Jerry pulled the Green Room's door firmly shut leaving Jim and brit standing in shock in the hallway.
"What the - ?" Jim looked at Brit.
"I know. We're just collecting for pizza; what's his damage?" Brit shook her head and walked away, leaving Jim once again, alone.

The party went to eight o'clock and the staffers filed out to taxi cabs, waiting friends and in Mr. Tory's case - a 26 foot long stetched Mercedes. The studios were dark and quiet - the computers broadcasting pre-recorded content and all was still with but one host stirring.
Emerging from the Green room, spreadsheets clutched beneath his arm, came Jerry Agar. His plan to get in a Christmas Eve 'Agarment' was coming closer to fruition. The idiots, commies and 'red' tories had all left, leaving the mighty 1010 in Agar's care. Down the hall to Studio 2, where Jerry could run a show completely on his own without a producer - he made his way a grincy smile on his face.
Opening the studio door the odour of a Montreal Deli hit Agar's nose. Bullard had been last in the studio, his listeners had sent him dozens and dozens of bagels to mark Rama-Lama-Bagel-Ding-Dong.
"Idiots." Jerry muttered as he cleared the seat and control board of "everything" and "sesame seed" specials.
The computer displays came to life without so much as a hum flooding the room with a warm artificial glow. Jerry put his prepared notes on the table to his left and began keying in his log-on passwords when a particularly cream cheesed heavy 'jalapeno' dislodged from an overhead compartment and struck Jerry cold...
>FADE TO BLACK...

"Kid. Kid wake-up! Damn it."
"Wha...what happened..." It took Jerry a moment to adjust his vision - the bagel had knocked his glasses off.
What he saw was G. Gordon Liddy standing in front of the broadcast board in a powder pink pantsuit not unlike the one's favoured by Hillary Clinton.
"Mr. Liddy?!"
"Well it ain't Santy Clause Agar." The vision reached into its modest clevage and produced a cigar and proceeded to light-up.
"Am I dead?" Jerry asked as he rubbed his head where the bagel had struck him...a handful of cream cheese and brill cream gave him reason to believe he was still amongst the living.
"No kid, y'ain't dead." Blowing smoke across the table.
"Are you dead?"
"Hope the heck not! Not in this get-up anyway, I got a VeraWang I'm saving." Lifting his right foot onto the counter beside Agar's program notes, G. Gordon Liddy produced a flask from his sock and took a long draw.
"Well what is this then?" Jerry had found his glasses and was somewhat dismayed to see his visitor was clearly going commando beneath the powder pink wool pants.
"Look, you're way off the reservation kid. OUT THERE! Full-on Wack-a-Doo-ville. I'd of just gone with a nice clear headshot or even a friendly pian wire in the elevator...but they want to give you a chance to reform yerself." Liddy took another draw on his flask and then tucked it back into his sock.
"I haven't got time for this..."
"Jerry! Look. I...I like you. Orders are orders though so here's the scoop: You will be vistied by three Hosts..."
"Oh give me a break!"
"I'll give you my foot up your - agar."
Jerry tried to stand up, but Liddy hiked himself over the control board and pinned Agar to his seat by landing in his lap.
"Three Hosts kid! Watch Listen and Learn!" Liddy leaned in close enough for Jerry to smell the booze and cigar smoke on his breath and puckered his lips. For a moment Jerry flashed back to his XM days - and then G. Gordon Liddy delivered a brutal "nutter" and Jerry slumped in his chair....
>Mists & Harp Music...

"...and now you know, the rest of the story..."
"unngh...Liddy you BASTAR..."
"Whoa, hold-on there buck-a-roo, this is a family show."
Jerry opened his eyes and saw the deep-set kind eyes of John Donabie. Behind Donabie the studio seemed different - and Jerry noticed he was no longer behind the control panel.
"What happened? Donabie! Does security know you're here? Security! Security!" Jerry pushed himself up against the wall and realized that he and John Donabie weren't the only two in the studio.
"Hey! You two get away from that mic! Who the blazes are you anyway!?"
"Calm down Jerry, calm down."
"Don't you tell me to calm down! You, you..."
"Jerry, I'm the Host of Christmas Past. I believe my visit was foretold to you."
"Host of Christmas Past?"
"That's right Jerry, and they can't hear either of us, so stop screaming."
"...would that be the long past, or my past?..."
"Your past is a little too NC17 Jerry. I'm the Host of 1010 Christmas Past." Donabie placed his hand gently on Jerry's shoulder to steady him and for a moment Agar's pale complextion warmed.
Jerry looked past the Host at the two people sitting at the announce table. They chatted happily back and forth with one and other about horses and children and the challenges faced by parents at the Christmas Season.
"What are they doing?" Jerry sneared.
"That's Paul and Carol, they're hosting this segment of CFRB's Christmas." Replied Donabie.
"Listen to them - it's like verbal candy-floss!"
"Jerry, it's Christmas Eve. The listeners have been working through a recession and political chaos all year...it's a time for reflection and taking stock of the less material things in life. Don't you agree?"
"What? Christmas? Christmas is nice but who has time for it? It's for kids not wanna-be-hippy-love-children who want to be canoodling on the air about spending Christmas on a farm."
"Jerry, can't you see that being angry all the time wears a person down?"
Agar turned to face Donabie and glared at him..."You say'n I'm angry?"
"I'm saying you're tired and don't even know it."
{IT FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS ON NEWS TALK 1010}
"Oh man, not this!" Jerry buried his face in his hands.
"Jerry, I'm not going to tell you what to do. I'm here to show you what things used to be like..."
"Before I came here and what? Ruined everything? huh? Is that what you're saying?!"
"No, no. this is what things used to be like before everyday vecame a rage-fest and every host had to have a gimmic. There was room for different points of view, room for a host to re-examine his or her position with the listeners. A willingness to listen..."
"Willingness, different points of view? I'm all for different points of view buddy, but get this straight...my point of view is the RIGHT point of view and I just need the rest of the world to come around and see that."
"Yet for all the anger inspired, the rhetoric, the bile...what's changed?" Donabie's voice cracked just a little and his eyes grew moist..."oh Jerry, just listen...."
{WHEN I WAS A BOY CHRISTMAS HELD ALL THE FASCINATION AND WONDER OF A BOX OF CHOCOLATES...}
"This is insane! I'm outta here." Turning from the Motts and the hear-warming Christmass programming of the past Jerry opened the studio door and stepped into what should have been the control room...
>Mists and Harp Music...

Stepping through the door Jerry found himself standing on a city street in front of an elementary school. The sight of picketing teachers sent a fresh flush of rage coursing through his body and he was just preparing to throw himself into the picket line when the sight of Mike Bullard dressed in a red leather Santa outfit froze him in his tracks.
"Bullard?!"
"Hey Jerry, how's it hanging?"
"Mike, where am I?"
"You're standing in front of a TDSB elementary school, fighting the power, standing-up to the man."
"...fighting....get stuffed! I'll show those tree-hugging over entitled socialists what's what..." Agar moved again towards the picket line but suddenly couldn't move.
Mike Bullard stepped between Jerry and the picketing kidergarden teachers and smiled.
"They can't see or hear us Jerry. I'm the Host of Christmas Present...bagel?"
"I don't want a bagel, Bullard. I want to put an end to this garbage. They're holding our kids hostage and blackmailing the government with this crap!"
"okay...Of course they still can't see or hear you and they're being manipulated by a government pushing dubious legislation meant to circumvent labour law and the government's own obligation to negotiate in good faith..."
"They should take what they get and be happy about it!"
"...kind of wish I couldn't hear you too...The government created this mess with poor management and an attempt to look tough to win some by-elections. These people just want to be treated fairly by their employer can't you see that?"
"I see over entitled civil servants my tax dollars pay with gold plated pensions whinning while they should be watching those snot nosed punks!"
"Whoa...you really are a crap-storm in a tuna can. You realize that front-line teachers, nurses, corrections officers and civil servants have no better a pension plan than most employees of a fortune 500 company right? Ever ask an MP or MPP what their pension looks like? Let's get get out of here. hop on."
Jerry still unable to move, suddenly sees a red and white Harley Davidson appear - euipped with a sidecar. He watches as Bullard mounts the bike and dons a red helmut. The bike kicks to life and Bullard raises his right hand and waves - instantly Agar finds himself sitting in the side car, still unable to move.
The scene of the picketing teachers vanishes and is replaced by a line of men, women and children. The motorcycle is sitting in front of the Daily Bread Food Bank.
"What's this? You're going to make me feel bad that people need the food bank? Well, I've been down too! They need to pick themselves up, buckle down, get a job..."
"Yeah, Jerry? All of them right there...have jobs. Some of them have 2 or three and a few of them are even regular callers for your show...they agree with all you say about over entitled people who have a living wage...a pension and something of a normal life...in fact many of them get so blinded by your sound bites and one-offs that they don't see that they deserve to be built up; instead they get invited to go for the low hanging fruit and tear others down..."
"Oh so this is my fault that they're here? The nanny-state isn't giving them enough? huh?"
"...I just wanted you to see that this is what's going on right now. In this city, and in this Country. That people, working people can't afford to eat...and this is becoming the new normal for too many of your fellow citizens..."
"Well they can thank lefty anti-business policies and greedy unions for that! Let the job creators in and let the market dictate what's good for business and..."
"Jerry...a lot of these people work for the 'job creators' amd the 'market' dictates that they should get paid minimum wage, reveive minimal or no benefits just to barley compete with their global 'equivalents' in the developing world where corporations don't have to worry about human rights, standards of living or any of the things that make us the 'First World. These people can either pay rent to keep their kids warm, or buy groceries to keep them fed. They can't do both and this really is becoming the norm across North America."
"Then they should get better jobs and stop being stupid. It ain't my problem."
Bullard revs the motorcycle again and the scene dissolves into the hallway outside of Studio 2 at CFRB. "You sure I can't get you a bagel?"
"Oh that's it!" To his surprise Jerry is able to rise out of the sidecar and march towards the studio door..."I'm outta here!" He throws open the door and steps into...
>Mists and Harp Music...

...Studio 2, only the studio again doesn't seem quite right. The instrument panel is a single flat-screen resembling agiant ipad and the room appears slick and sterile. None of the equipment is on and for a moment Jerry beleived he was a alone; until the sound of someone clearing their throat caused him to jump.
Turning quickly, Jerry nearly looses his footing. The studio's lights are set so low it takes Agar a full minute to adjust his eyes, and even then finds most of the chamber comprised of shadows.
"Is....is someone there?" Jerry hated to hear the tremble in his voice, but was thankful he retained bladder control. Again the sound of someone clearing their throat...
"Are you the Host whose coming was foretold to me by a cross-dressing homicidal Republican?" In the darkness Jerry could make out the shape of a man slowly nodding his head..."and you're here to show me the future of CFRB 1010?..." Again the head nodded and the figure grew closer, slowly raising a boney hand towards Jerry.
Agar felt his skin crawl and just as he'd been in the presence of Mike Bullard; was unable to move. The figure drew closer - Jerry could almost make out its features.
"I am the Host of Christmas Yet To Come..."
Wait a minute........Ryan Doyle?"
"Yes, Jerry. I am the Host of Christmas Future."
"Well at least you're not some pink-o like Moore or Downs..." Growing more relaxed, Jerry found he could move again and took a seat at the broadcast table.
"Moore? Downs?...oh, they were expelled seven Christmas Eve's agao...right after Tim Hudak won his second majority."
"Finally some positive news. So things turned out alright. The PCs got in, fixed things; the commies and tree-huggers got the boot..."
"Oh, Jerry. There's no "PC" Party anymore. They're just called 'The Government' now. We don't even bother with elections...the polling company projects the results of any potential election, taking into account apathy and corporate sponsorship and just reaffirms the status quo."
"...but things are good right? No more wasted tax-payer dollars, no more labour issues, better Health Care..."
"Well The Government doesn't really share how the money is spent, and as long as you've got credits to spend Health Care isn't too bad....tier 3 and above anyway. I'll show you..." Ryan leans towards Jerry and reaches past him to the dark glass screen on the table.
"There but a touch of my hand and the screen comes to life!..."
"Knock it off Doyle, I have an ipad too..."
The screen displayed a scene from just outside the CFRB studios. Jerry recognized most of the buildings, but the WalMart billboards and transients wandering the streets confused him. Ryan could see this and quietly began explaining what Agar was looking at...
"The WalMart at the end of the street is having its shift-change - most of them are coming from the other WalMart over the highway..."
"What are you talking about, the bums?"
"Right to Work Legislation. Passed in 2016 and it allows them to work up to a 12 hour day at one WalMart and then work up to another 12 hour shift at any other WalMart and they don't have to worry about overtime."
"WalMart? Why WalMart?"
"In North America everything is WalMart...they won the Big Box Wars of 2016 to 2021...low low prices on everything. Wiped out all the competition. Most of the actual death and stuff happened in overseas...a lot of tactical strikes on 3rd world workforces....it's not bad now though."
Ryan went on to explain that starting in Ontario the Hudak government moved forward with it's 'Paths to Prosperity' proposals and by the time most people realized that the entire platform was lifted from Paul Ryan's "Path to Prosperity"...an update of '90s Republican Contract with America plans it was too late to do anything about it. Right to Work came in, public assets were sold off to corporations and private interest...the funds generated mysteriously were never re-invested publicly into infrastructure and the market dictated that Ontario, and then Canada, had to lower standard of living. GDP rose, but a controlling interests in Natural Resources and previously public industries were sold off piece by piece to private interests.
"I don't get it...."
"Get what?"
"It's everything I wanted, but it's so...not."
" Don't know what to tell you Jerry. Too far RIGHT is as bad as too far LEFT...maybe worse; all too far left got us was into financial trouble..."
"I can't be wrong."
" I know. Look I've got make a broadcast, The government has lowered the minimus wage again and the callers will be wanting to hear the good news."
"Good news?..."
"The Job Creators won't pay the present rates, we either lower the minimum wage, or they move to Mexico....so yeah, I'd say its good news?"
"What about me...my family...."
"Don't know...Glenn Beck bought an island in 2019 after he finally whipped the US into a state of panic sufficient enough to push gold to $8000 an ounze and he retired..."
"...and I got to take over for Glenn Beck?..."
"No, you said you wished you had an island and then got hired by WalMart to make in-store announcements...I'm the only one left. You know voice of the people."
"...and I did all this?"
"Don't be stupid. You were an AM talk radio host...but you never questioned any of the moves the RIGHT made, cowed your listeners into believing the feckless Privateers were all correct in their steps towards...this....you were RIGHT because you couldn't see past the veil. Now go. You're in the way." Ryan turned his back on Jerry and and studio lights dimmed....
>Mists...no harps this time....

"Jerry, Jerry? Wake-up."
Agar opened his eyes. He was surrounded by bagels and spreadsheets. Standing over him and gently shaking his shoulder was John Downs.
"Downs?"
"Yeah...have you been here all night?"
"uh, what day is it?"
"It's Christmas Day, of course."
"Then, it was all a dream...what are you doing here?"
"Mike Bullard said he had a studio full of bagels and told me I could collect them and donate them to the Daily Bread if I wanted...so, it's Christmas and I like to make a difference."
Friends, I'd like to say Agar's heart grew 3 sizes that day, that he became the grand old man in the grand old city....but this is the real world....
"Make a difference? hummph." Jerry rose and stretched. His hair was now crusty with cream cheese.
"I'll just collect these and go then Jerry, sorry to have bothered you." John's eyes welled and he went about collecting Bullard's bagels.
"....hmmm...Daily Bread huh?...maybe I can give you a lift."
"Gee Jerry, thanks."
"John?"
"Yes, Jerry?"
"You're still a commie."
"I know Jerry. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, pink-o."

...And very Merry Christmas to you all, in the Grandest City in the Grandest Province in the Grandest Country that ever was.

thirteenrutt.

Jerry: I am a retired Geological Engineer and one of a group of retired Geological Engineers from the University of Saskatchewan living in Calgary Alberta. We are active in supporting FOS ( Friends of Science) in their efforts to counter the IPCC propaganda campaign that Human generated CO2 emissions has and will cause run away global warming with terrible consequences.

I just found your introduction of Lord Monckton's story about being able to at least talk for 40 seconds at the IPCC Doha meeting counter to their contentions.

With our similar views about IPCC, I wondered if your branch of the Agar family was related to mine? My Grandfather Charles Durnin Agar was born on in Ontario in 1882 and came out west when he was 18 and worked for an Uncle near Brandon, Manitoba. He returned to Ontario for a few years then came west and developed a farm near Floral, Saskatchewan, some 10 miles SE of Saskatoon, were both my father Charles Calvin Agar and I grew up.

C.F. Agar