DARC Content Creation

Canadian Feds Loose Fight for Regulatory Bid

2012-01-26T15:44:00.001-08:00

Finance Minister Jim Flaherty delivered his most elaborate public reaction since last month's critical ruling by the Supreme Court of Canada.

That decision may have quashed the decade-old project, touted by successive governments, to create a one-stop shop for the country's securities regulation.

But Flaherty pointed out that there's still room for a federal role.

"It's clear in the Supreme Court of Canada judgment that the day-to-day regulation of securities will remain with the provinces," Flaherty said in an interview.

"But (the court) also said that there is an area of federal jurisdiction, including national standards and systemic risk. So I hope — and we'll see — I hope that we can make an arrangement with the provinces to proceed with a Canadian securities regulator."

Ottawa can have a regulatory role

He made the remarks in an interview in Switzerland, at the Davos economic summit.

Flaherty said that last month, when the Supreme Court ruled that securities regulation was a provincial responsibility, it also agreed that the feds could participate in the oversight of general and systemic risks.

"It's very difficult to deal with any significant financial issue in Canada without the involvement of the Government of Canada," he said, "because so much of the financial world applies to many provinces and territories, not just one."

To play that role, Flaherty said the federal government would need to create a new organization.

He said the task could not simply be handed to the existing Office of the Superintendent of Financial Institutions. That agency, he said, oversees banks and insurance companies and the additional role could create a conflict of interest.

-CBC News

2010-09-28T23:12:00.000-07:00

Wake early
if you want
another man's life or land.
No lamb
for the lazy wolf.
No battle's won in bed.

-The Havamal

Ninja Scroll - by Abinyah Walker

2006-12-03T06:26:00.000-08:00

Ninja Scroll
by Abinyah Walker

‘An exercise in conceit’
Ninja Scroll

Basses on a Japanese animated movie ‘anime’ called Ninja Scroll. It peers into the dark mystical culture of the 16th Century Japan. It speaks about the 8 devil’s of Kimone and the Showgun of the Dark modified to illustrate a verbal lyrical conflict.

We were sent on a pillage to find out what happened to Shimoda village
But we were attacked!
8 devils of Kimone, the Showgun of the dark’s minions on gold
They decimated my ninja team, some of the most skilled rhymers I’ve seen
These dudes are bad ass, but I rhyme too fast
I barely got away, lost twenty of my friends that day
I wanna get these dudes back, but I’m still seeking the right verbal attack
Each day my hurt multiplies, turning my heart as dark as those guys
Now I’ve come back with my clan’s bandanna around my hair
My lyrical sword rhymer to slice whack MC’s in the air
My emblem T5B: to strike fear.
I feel a cold howl one of them might be near
I’ve extended out my ninja rhymes
Lightning strikes, its T5B: from behind.
This is Ninja Scroll
The story’s already been told
Ninja missions are a tradition ≠
In my mind I was born with verbal incisions
I’ve gotta do battle, this wasn’t left up to decision.
But I can beat this dude and digest him like food
Beat him on a Sunday if I’m in the mood
Tesai steps up, there’s a new silence in the air
He doesn’t look so tough so I stood there in the clear
My eyes must be fooling, his body turned to stone
He unbrandished his weapon, deafened with its harsh tone
He twiddled his blade in hunger
Right before he threw it a loud crash of thunder
The battle’s begun!

My rhymes burn you like the sun
Each move is flawless, this aint just for fun
But his rhymes so sharp it cut through the dark
Heat seeking, projectile, cut you down inside a mile
How can I beat this dude there’s no part of him that’s weak
Flawless technique this devil’s at his peak
Dodged each of his verbs, theorized on how space time curves
He sent out his adjectives, injected a 10,000 word additive
But I couldn’t manage this clown as his pronouns struck me down
Ha Ha Ha….

I came back as the ill rhyme slayer, ninja star sprayer, verbal style player
My lyrical decimated his rock rhyme layer
If flew through the night, its target right on sight, my rhymes so tight
I took a bite dodged his lyrical spray ninja flight, through the trees like a kite
Tried to catch me with his boomerang knife pronoun spray height
He tried to spread his fear, trying to trap me in his devil’s sphere
What’s he saying “Not quite the right direction, the way to Hell is right here!”

I’ve mastered the technique of Stargate, so I already anticipated your fate
Narrowed it down to the time and date
Played you like a one move checkmate
Smoke you in a bong, give praise to the philosophy phong
Demonstrate the technique Gangus Khan
You weep in fear, realizing I’ve reached my last rhyming sphere
I’ve switched to the sixed gear, your oblivion is near, my absolute victory is here
I rhymed you black and blue, this level of rhyming you never knew
I took that weak MC ass to school, showed you this symmetrical rhyming tool…
I’m not done with you yet you’ve gotta pay back for the last 20 souls you met.
The most ignorant fool would make the sure bet
Played you like a marionette
Six bullet game of Russian roulette
At my dollar store your rhyme credit card I reject

My words become visible, the air thick with syllables
These rhyme skill’s intangible, I’m the MC vandal
My consonants perform cold fusion
On your face a look of fear and delusion
This is the start of the death trinity, mastered only by T5B:
Time is the first of the three weapons
Free you from this earth you’ll never see heaven
You won’t die once, you’ll die seven
5 is the sign, once you see this you know you’ve gone blind
Your last chance of salvation left with my first weapon time
My constant persistence overcame your marginal resistance
You showed me death, but I didn’t flinch or save my breath
I simply recalculated my course and used the full power of Brute Force
AAAAA…AA
Cries from Tesai as he slowly dies…

Ninja Scroll Resurrection

2006-01-05T19:10:00.000-08:00

by Abinyah Walker

Ninja Scroll: Resurrection

The saga continues as the now seven devil’s of kimone attempt to avenge the death of one of their own. Our protagonist must do battle with more strange magic.

They will never leave you alone, for you have already killed one of the eight devil’s of Kimone!

Hello Stranger… welcome to my death chamber
These snakes ‘aint tamer, word flamer,
Devil of Kimone, got a chill to the bone
I killed Tesai one of their strongest guys
With the skill Gangus Khan, smoked him in a bong
But my face he copied in his palm
Now I’m being hunted a strange magic I’m being blunted
Her rhyme melodic, very demonic through to my brain rap sonic
Potent like Hydroponic, but I broke free purely tectonic
Her snakes I baked but her skin’s a fake?
What magic is this, what poison this makes
It’s a cast off skin, fake rhymes needles & pins
Through the air sickening hymns the full moon dims
What’s this an attack from above through the air like doves
Dodge with a slice from my lyrical dice
Triple six is what these devil’s pick
Its like they’ve got swords and I’ve got sticks

Tic goes the time as once again lightning strikes
Its T5B spitting blinding rhymes
Cracking each vertebrae of the spin
Technique of the stanza combined
Slice you with the endless rhyme
Techniques defined by the Regent’s mind
Consonants in time, resounds like a chime
Adding you up like dimes
Rhyming prosody making you laugh like Bill Cosby
Ninja star spray delivering highs like a caffeine tray
Engulfed by rage, disintegrate your phrase like the fage
Perfectly executed Shakespearean stage
Locked your cage with my pantomime burnt your rap page
Your conceit is weak you’re an inch and I’m a million feet
My words lightning swords cut through you like card board
Similes I horde, a flinch you can’t afford
I take you on a tour as I add up the score
Two devils down what you lost I found
I tame hell’s hounds though Shemoda village your poisonous deceit
Two devils down.

My energy condense hence your future I put in the past tense
Your revenge is misplaced my rhymes so potent you can taste
T5B: all up in your face to resolve this case
I wreak havoc as you cross the finish line in last place.
You weak emcee’s so cheap you took back the piss that you peed
It’s all ‘cause of your greed, it’s not the money you need
A few similes ABAB when I produce sick rhymes you flee
What’s written on the dead? Give into need so hatred you can feed
Plead for your life, for when I strike life doesn’t seem so nice
Trice my rhymes poisoned you like mice
For when I splice I’m cool as ice, when I pray you death comes twice.

Devil’s fall, from the rhyme God I call
As I made a new friend this day through chivalry
Simultaneously producing the heaven of their misery

El Cayo

1999-10-20T11:18:00.000-07:00

El Cayo,by Abinyah Walker,written October 20,1999

El Cayo

              They lined us up, our backs facing the fast moving Usumacita River, staring us down with their AK-47s trained on us. It was execution time. This would be the ideal time for my loyal following of ninjas to jump out of the dark. I now regret not forming my clan of Shadow Ninjas in my university days. But even my sense of humor wasn’t appropriate as three archeologists, five higher workers and I stood their motionless, the sounds of the jungle and the rush of the river filled the air while we wait to be shot.

              This wasn’t how I planned the expedition to go at all. I organized this six months earlier with the help of my colleague Matt Peters to examine and catalogue the ruins at El Cayo; located in the remote corner of southern Mexico neighboring Guatemala. We spent most of our time mapping our expedition from the University of Calgary and gaining the appropriate government papers and we knew the risks and the troubles in this region of the world. In 1994, the Zapatista revolutionaries led by Subcommander Marcos occupied this area. It was their way of attracting world attention to the prevalent poverty. We were aware that these parts were rampant with smugglers, drug runners and remnants of the Zapatista and the countless criminals freed from prison by them. We simply figured that at worse we would be robbed and forced to go home empty handed. A small price to pay for examining these treasures. Besides, I had spent time here before befriending the Mayans and twenty years earlier deciphering the ancient Mayan language, gaining knowledge to the meaning of the ruins. This was a milestone, attracting much needed attention to the ruins and more than that, I brought tourism and pesos to the surrounding villages. I had come back for a 2000-year-old relic I had discovered in 1993 but was unable to bring it back safely. We were here to recover an altar carved of solid limestone weighing half a ton, perfectly round and in excellent condition. A similar find sold for half a million, however I was here to study it, not to peddle to the highest bidder. Nevertheless this wasn’t the only reason I came back. I had also discovered a priceless jewel. A football sized ruby lay poised in a two piece coffin. I only saw it through the cracks of this six-ton sarcophagus but before I could retrieve it we were forced to flee in haste. Its vision has possessed me ever since I first laid eyes on it six years earlier. I had planned many trips back but it had been too dangerous. The revolution had left hundreds dead and many more missing and it hadn’t been wise to risk my life retrieving it. With looting yielding tremendous financial gain, El Cayo was attracting ruthless treasure hunters. It had been rumored that even Lara Croft was planing her own raid.

              We reached El Cayo on August 8th, rested and scaled the altar early the next morning only to find it had been partially uncovered and scarred with looter’s pickaxes. We were just in time and we started work immediately. Costa Anaya, a Mexican graduate, who had worked with Matt and I for years began mapping the East Side of El Cayo. Anesto Corzon was a coordinator and archeologist for the Mexican department of Culture and supervised the removal of the debris on top of the altar. Brom Cosat, a local Mayan, made sure nothing was being damaged in the process. He was also in charge of the retrieval of this relic. We had organized the transportation of the altar by military helicopter that would take it to a museum where it could be properly protected. I dragged Matt to a secluded part of El Cayo were I led him down a path almost impenetrable by overgrowth.

to be continued...

El Cayo (continued... 1)

1999-10-19T10:24:00.000-07:00

El Cayo,by Abinyah Walker,written October 20,1999

El Cayo

...continued

“Where are we going?” He demanded, and in an excited voice I responded.

“You’ll see, we’re almost there!” The thick brush pieced my palms as I pushed my way through. It gave way to a chamber only three meters high and in the centre a large sarcophagus.

“There it is.” I said with triumph. Matt behind me stood in awe at what I had led him to. I quickly moved to were I remembered the crack had been, and lying down on my side I peered inside. I shined my pocket Mag-light to see it reflect off a shiny ruby.

“Ha ha.” I laughed “it’s still here. Matt get over here.” I got up to make room as he mimicked my position. “This is the real reason why we’re here.” He shined his light around.

“What am I—.” He cut himself off. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s the biggest ruby I’ve ever seen! I discovered it when I was last here. But I couldn’t bring it back… Help me get this thing off!” I yelled forcing the lid to one side. Matt jumped up and helping me push.

“Wait.” He said a few moments later. “Can we do this. We should call Corzon and

get—.” I grabbed him by the shirt and pulling him in stared into his eyes.

“You crazy? I didn’t risk my neck to hand this over to Corzon or the Mexicans. Now stop talking crazy and help me get this thing off.” I held him a while as it sunk in. Then we were back to work. But we didn’t get far before we heard screaming and weird noises coming from all around. We abandoned our efforts to investigate.

Emerging from the bush, I carefully covered back the entrance before joining up with the rest of the expedition.

“What’s going on?” I demanded hurrying back. As I said so the surrounding jungle became alive. Virtually materializing out of the thick brush forty or so men moved swiftly into the clearing. They appeared to be farmers from a nearby village. They were not large men, but the flex of their arms and the machetes they carried was very intimidating. Their skill with this instrument was unsurpassed. Having had watched them work in the fields and the ease with which they disposed of eighty-foot snakes made us all uneasy. They demanded to know what the archeologist were doing here, and Anesto Corzon began to explain our intentions. They were close, too close. I glanced at one of the men’s machetes and back up to see his eyes that had an unearthly glow and clearly fixed to mine as a weird shiver shot through my body. Corzon presented the government papers from both Mexican and local Mayan governments, which proved we had permission for this dig. However government seals didn’t carry much weight in these parts and sure didn’t ease the tension with armed men surrounding us. The Mayans left with the papers, vanishing the same way they came back into the jungle. They left three men behind to observe us as we slowly continued our work. Like the dire creatures of myth, these stone sentinels observed us.

“What are we gonna do about the ruby?” Matt’s whispers to me were strained.

“We can’t go back now. I’ll find a way.” I reassured. Eventually we were all huddled together to contemplate our position. They had been taught in well-lit institutions and foraged through University libraries; they weren’t used to digging in treacherous jungle let alone under armed guard by this most unnatural audience.

“I say we cover back the altar and get the hell out of here!” Anaya exclaimed. I was the only one who objected to the idea. Matt didn’t say anything he simply had that look he gets after an intense session of soporific narcotics. I looked down at his hands to see them trembling.

“Guys, by tomorrow we’ll have the altar dug up and by the afternoon the chopper will be here, and then we can kiss this place goodbye.” I insisted but was outnumbered and it was decided that we should rebury the altar. They pilled on large stones hoping that it would dissuade looters and by tomorrow we would be well on our way back to civilization. That night nobody slept and my hopes for retrieving the ruby began to fade. By the next morning when darkness began to give way to light I went to find the opening, but pushing through the brush I so carefully arranged to look natural only found solid rock. Perhaps too good of a job, as I stood baffled and unusually worried. While the rest pilled on the rocks it turned out the Mayans had no intention of leaving us alone as once again they spilled out of the jungle. They ordered us to suspend work immediately. They produced our government papers and as Corzon moved to collect it they burst into flames before him.

to be continued...

El Cayo (continued... 2)

1999-10-18T14:44:00.000-07:00

El Cayo

...continued

“We don’t recognize any Mexican or Mayan government. In these parts we are the law.” The leader iterated in a stern empyrean voice. We simply stood motionless, frozen by the realization that we were in a real fix. But the boat we had requested the night before could be heard descending the Usumacinta River. We could pack our equipment, gather our belongings and be out in a matter of minutes. We began to collect out things only to learn that the boat had been dispatched by the armed Mayans. Matt dropped his gear were he stood and seemed to contemplate futility. We heard our salvation motor off and just when we thought it couldn’t get grimmer, another seventy Mayans materialized from the jungle. They told us that they were direct descendants of the Mayans who built the altar.

“And there’s no way we’re gonna let you deface it.” The chieftain assured. They ordered us to recover the altar and seal it with cement. They ordered us to give them money to buy cement from a local village. While we waited for the cement to arrive one of our Mayans exchanged harsh words with our captors. I tried to go over and resolve the situation but Matt held me back. I watched as they dragged one of our workers off noisily tied him to a tree and converged on him in an unearthly manner, and we never saw him again. His horrified screams echoed his eulogy.

The cement arrived as the sun began to fall. It shone wonderfully with a demonic red glow that could be seen reflecting off the Usumacita River further down stream. With the cement more men followed, this time carrying rifles and AK-47s. They came out of the jungle in a more aggressive way and told Matt who originally gave them the money that they needed more. We were shocked and huddled together to collect only $800 more pesos. We had lost count of how many Mayans had gathered around us and the sun was fading fast in the west; and as the bloody sun fell and gave way to darkness, extortion turned into all out piracy. We were stripped of our equipment, food and supplies. They even stole the boots off our feet, leaving us only in our under clothes. The situation began to feel hopeless as we stood closely together. I contemplated pleading with our captors but with darkness fully upon us I didn’t know whom to address. They ravaged our belongings mostly interested in our clothing and gear. I saw the opening we used to get here and contemplated making a break for it. One of the Mayans came up to us, and seeing we had nothing left, motioned us to leave. We quickly glanced at each other making sure we all understood the same thing, the bolted towards the opening.

Each step hurt at first but our fears shut out the pain as we tore through the heavy bush. Just as we though we were out of there we heard gun shots. Reaching the bank of the Usumacinta bullets whizzed past us and we stood frozen in our tracks. We turned to face the bandits who descended out of the jungle like hungry wolves in close pursuit of their pray. The smaller group of five or so seemed to be even more dangerous as there were fewer witnesses. They lined us up along the bank, their guns trained on us. A couple of them walked up to me, being the first in line and stared me down, his eyes a fearsome glow. I glared back searching for the confidence I once exhumed, but found none left. Abandoned by confidence and accompanied by fear he lifted his gun above his head. The blows came swiftly as I was knocked to the ground. Flashes of light seemed to be the last thing I would see as they beat and kicked me.

When I came to it was still dark and the air was still. I was excited to feel the pain shoot through my body; at least I wasn’t dead. I turned my head to see that nobody was exempt from their gracious affections. My innards hurt and my testicles still throbbed with pain and I lay there curled up sobbing to myself before I gained the strength and courage to see if my comrades escaped with the same fortune I had. Struggling to my feet I was bleeding everywhere. I stumbled towards Matt to see him still breathing and the others as well. It took some time for all of them to get back to their feet. We examined each other: Costa Anaya had a badly broken nose, Anesto Corzon had internal bleeding and needed immediate medical attention, Matt Peters suffered a few broken ribs and had trouble breathing, Brom Cosat and the rest of us had less serious injuries. I was bleeding from the eyes and it was difficult to see. Night was beginning to give way to day and we decided to get as far away from EL Cayo as possible before the bandits and the Mayans change their minds and decide we are better off dead. Matt, Costa and I decided we should cross the Usumacinta into Guatemala, however our Mayan friends urged us to cross the farm fields. We argued. The Usumacinta was a fast moving river which could get very deep suddenly with engulfing undertows, besides Brom couldn’t swim. Few have ever tried to swim across, and in our weakened condition it would be exponentially difficult. The alternative had us roaming through farm fields where we could be easy pray for trigger happy Mayans. We agreed to split up, the Mayans and the government officials would trek through the farm fields while the rest of us would face the raging river.

to be continued...

El Cayo

1999-10-17T10:43:00.000-07:00

El Cayo,by Abinyah Walker,written October 20,1999

El Cayo

(end)

A thick fog descended upon us, it must have been sent from heaven to help us. We walked along the shore Costa, Matt and I, searching for the nearest and shallowest point from which to cross. And for the first time since we stepped into the presence of El Cayo we had a struck of luck. We had stumbled upon a canoe.
“It looks like it’s in perfect condition.” Matt said excitedly. He was helping me navigate because of my bad eyes and by now our feet were worn and bloody and we couldn’t wait to give them a rest. We had only made it a few miles because of the rugged terrain and our lack of proper equipment. The odds of getting bit by deadly snakes had increased dramatically; and we knew the risk of catching malaria or yellow fever by getting bit by the wrong insect. Still it was a sure chance we would get killed if we stayed here! Pulling the canoe out of the mud Costa started expressing his outrage in less than elegant words.
“Its f*cking bent! There’s no way we can use this!” Anaya broke out in tears the stress of the ordeal had finally broken him down. He stood there sobbing; his tears like the deadly currents of the Usumacinta. We all stood there in a long pause, the wind blowing in my hair, the calls of tropical birds echoing for miles through the thick jungle, and us like ants in a park. I collected my thoughts.
“Everything is not lost. We can use this to wade across the Usumacinta and just 12 miles down there’s a colleague of mine on another dig. If we can just pull it together for a few more hours we’ll be home free. Now get a grip on yourself man and let’s go!” I said vigorously. I stuck my arm out and waited for confirmation, and huddling together we grabbed each other’s hands and squeezed.
With our newfound hope we dragged the canoe into the river and waded in. The water was cold; it gripped us and sucked us in. We bathed in its cool stream while trying not to get swept too far down stream. Near the other side we felt the bottom and dragged our carcasses out of the water shivering and fatigued.
“What was that…” Matt said, and before I could yell watch out Anaya was knocked to the ground an alligator grappling at his leg. I grab a large rock to beat the beast, but another tore into his arm! His screams were terrifying and in slow motion blood spewed everywhere, mostly on me. Matt and I didn’t hesitate seeing the lewd creatures tear Anaya in a lustful frenzy; we simply turned and started running for our lives. We ran for ten minutes before we realized we were no longer being followed. Battered and bruised, our feet bleeding and swollen we could still feel Anaya’s screams, the horror flashing in our minds eye. We calmed down and looking around gasping for breath found ourselves hopelessly lost. Without the river to guide us our case was desperate. Wondering in an unknown direction we stumbled along weakened by our beating, fatigued by the swim, and not having eaten for ten hours we were driven by fear. Our thirst was prevalent but we could not risk drinking the water suspecting it harbored cholera, hepatitis and any number of parasites. It was fortunate however that Matt knew the local plants and identified the beijuco de agua vine, which secreted water for a few seconds when cut, before its veins contracted. With Anaya’s blood still on me I didn’t dare wipe it on any foreign plants, some of them quite deadly. Stammering along, we suddenly began to feel watched. The jungle had eyes and they were trained on us. I could feel its humid breath on my neck, its growls and hissing in my ears as we trekked with suspicious glares. Night was beginning to take over again and a hard cold rain began to pour down on us. We constructed a makeshift shelter and paused for the night. We tried to sleep but the rain, the wind, the essence of the jungle its self kept us awake, griping us with fear. I never allowed myself to cry, but thoughts of hopelessness entered my mind. Huddled together we thought of our families and told each other stories to maintain moral. Matt’s breathing was getting worse and the run had been detrimental. Jungle survival wasn’t one of those courses offered in general anthropology and without the river we were hopelessly lost.
I woke in a cold sweat to find myself in a foreign environment and it was dark all around. I rubbed the sheets stepping out of bed and walked to the bathroom, my feet hurt. I turned on the light but it didn’t seem to work. I rubbing my eyes and looking up screamed.

##TITLE##

1970-01-01T15:59:00.000-08:00

##CONTENT##