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The Big, Bad Three

by Ken Hiebert

Ah, conversation. That thrilling interplay and exchange of ideas that make all parties involved that much more adept at navigating the complexities of life.

Who doesn't relish this time spent with peers over a steaming mug of coffee or an icy beverage? How many problems have been solved and mysteries unravelled by simply opening oneself up to new ideas or patterns of thought?

Surely the ancient Greeks were masters of this art as well as being masters of the thought process that accompanied it.

My, how times have changed...

These days I often find myself amused when in discussion with certain types of people on social media. I suppose it could be argued whether that should even be considered "conversation" at all. Regardless, in matters of politics or religion (and sometimes it's difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins) it's quite common to see both parties take very strong positions (obviously). Anyway, it seems there's usually at least a brief moment of respectable dialogue where each party makes some manner of effort at stating reasonable sounding points. Then, (and remember I'm talking about a certain type of people here) from out of nowhere come the BIG BAD THREE and you know they've completely run out of intelligent sounding things to say.

The BIG BAD THREE are words or phrases that are meant to simulate the proverbial "mic drop". An answer that is so complete, so final in its judgement as to be without equal in the realm of conversation or debate. The BIG BAD THREE are swift and lethal, a complete dismissal of all things contrary to humanity and intelligence. To drop any of these truth bombs is to verily assure instantaneous and resounding victory.

So, without further ado, here are the BIG BAD THREE in a commonly occurring order:

1. "Conspiracy theorist"

Often this one is used in conjunction with "Denier" and sometimes is just implied because the person is not sure if they really want to commit, although quite often these types of people will skip right over the usual pleasantries such as asking for clarification, or finding out what the hell you're even talking about and go straight for the kill shot with this gem.

2. "White Supremacist"

Often "white privilege" is substituted for this if the person is still feeling their way through the conversation. Really, "white privilege" is the more common version, but it generally means almost the same thing to the person using it. What this does is let you know in no uncertain terms that the person knows exactly what colour your skin is and that they're not afraid to use it against you. Usually this word is used right after you provide facts or a credible news article to back up what you're saying.

Then, if you're still there and haven't gone running back to your evil lair, you can pretty much count on them pulling out the big guns. That's right - the R-word and I'm not talking about the musical term that means "to gradually slow down".

Yup, it's:

3. "RACIST"

This is undoubtedly the most powerful of the BIG BAD THREE because it's arguably considered to be the absolute WORST thing a human could become. This mic-dropping bomb of truth is generally reserved for the end of the argument and usually shows up after the second or third time you present actual facts or a peer-reviewed study to support what you're saying. The beauty of this one is that it can pretty much be applied in any circumstance because most people don't even know what it means anymore due to its overuse and broad application.

I've found that it really doesn't matter much what the topic of discussion is, these words are all zingers. They're versatile and malleable enough to pretty much cover it all - especially since even the ones that actually have a real definition have been essentially stripped of any meaning due to language dilution.

So there you have it - the BIG BAD THREE.

A guaranteed winner when you run out of facts.

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SoMeCause

The religion of the truly enlightened.

by Ken Hiebert

Finally, a replacement for organized religion. Meet the new religion that is sweeping the globe!

SoMeCause is short for

Social Media Causeism

SoMeCause, or "SomeCause" is the ideal religion for today's society because not only does your Cause have a shelf life of a mere week or two, you can try a brand new one any time you want without ever being subject to any rules. As a multi-ethnic religion, SoMeCause has followers worldwide, including many prominent politicians so there will always be someone to like your posts and join you in ganging up on those who are less enlightened.

AND it has the added benefit of being able to shame nonbelievers and heretics at a global level.

*BUT WAIT - THERE'S MORE!*

For a one time payment of your capacity for critical thinking and rational thought, you too can be part of the movement that is shaking the globe.

As an added bonus if you subscribe now, we'll send the expiry date of the current Cause straight to your inbox so that by the time your chosen religion loses its credibility, you and thousands of other SoMeCausians will have seamlessly moved on to something much more socially relevant.

SoMeCause, a religion who's time has come.

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What Kind of Guitar Should I Learn On?

by Ken Hiebert

From those wishing to begin the journey of learning to play the guitar, this is a question that I hear a lot.

Usually this question is interpreted as:

Should I start on electric guitar or acoustic guitar?

When it comes to teaching guitar, I much prefer to start my younger beginners on an acoustic — specifically a nylon string (classical) guitar for a number of reasons.

Here's my top 4:

1. Simplicity. In its most basic incarnation, a guitar is really just a wooden box with strings stretched across it. It's amazing the music that can be created with something so simple. You don't have to worry about hooking up amplifiers and cables with all the issues that entails. I'm talking about amp settings, effects, cables that crackle and inputs that don't work properly (common on cheap electric guitars). These things only serve to distract from learning and playing.

2. The width of the neck. Electric guitars generally have a narrower neck which on the surface would seem desirable because it technically makes it easier for the fingers to reach up to the lower strings. Here's the problem with that - it also makes it easier to mute strings you don't want to mute when playing chords because the strings are that much closer together, so the strings just stop ringing. For beginners, everything is a hard stretch anyway so it's much better to play on something that will give you a clear, clean sound with less effort.

3. Classical guitars. I much prefer a nylon string (classical) guitar for beginners because the neck is a little bit wider than a steel string acoustic (see #2). Also these guitars have a smaller body size (compared to steel string acoustics) so they're easier and more comfortable to hold, and the nylon strings are much easier on the fingers than steel strings. This is currently my guitar of choice for all those reasons.

4. Technique. All the techniques that apply to acoustic guitars also apply to electric guitars and are easily transferrable. Some techniques (like string bending) are more applicable to electric guitar but are not necessarily even relevant for beginners since it would be considered an intermediate technique. On electric guitar it's also very easy for beginners to pull notes sharp without even trying so again, my object would be to make the initial learning phase as least frustrating as possible.

Having said all this, I feel I now need to clarify that I'm not necessarily against people starting on electric guitar, and for some it may actually be a better choice, but after teaching both for the last 15 or so years, I've definitely noticed these issues over and over again.

Now my disclaimer: I am a fingerstyle acoustic player. I love the sound and the simplicity of the acoustic guitar. I love it for the reasons I mentioned above as well as so many other reasons. I may therefore also be somewhat biased. Regardless, the main reason anyone should want to play guitar is for enjoyment. If you think you would much rather enjoy playing electric guitar over acoustic guitar, you would still be doing yourself a huge favour by getting a good basic understanding of the acoustic guitar first.

Then, rock on...

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A Tale of Two Kingdoms

Part Two...

5 minute read

by Ken Hiebert

When we last left Justin, he was at at costume party on his friend's private island. Upon his return to civilization, he was unmercifully shoved back into his role as Supreme Ruler of the Small Kingdom...

* In case you missed it, you can find out what brought him to this point by reading A Tale of Two Kingdoms - Part 1

***

King Justin was having a terrible day. The news of yet another shooting with a banned weapon was a painful reminder that his assault-style weapons ban hadn't in fact eradicated those weapons as he'd thought it would.

The kingdom was in the process of recovering from an imported plague that had taken the lives of thousands of the king's subjects. On top of that, unicorn fart production was down and the people hadn't seen a rainbow in months.

The children of the Small Kingdom, though not directly affected by the plague (it only killed the elderly) were nevertheless not allowed to congregate for fear of spreading it back to their homes. Even the schools were closed, and so to ease their burden of too much free time, King Justin thought it would be wise to start a program that would enable the children to volunteer their time in worthwhile projects around the Small Kingdom, and even give them opportunity to travel to other kingdoms. And yes, they'd be able to do this and get paid for it. Ok, so technically this isn't actual volunteering, but it sounds a lot better than, "getting paid minimum wage for a fancy vacation".

King Justin stroked the few hairs that had begun to sprout on his chin while he thought about the ramifications of his plan. He knew the perfect organization to pull this off. The WEasels were always there for him when he needed access to young minds to pour his ideals into. Not only that, but they had been especially good to his family by providing his mother and brother with hundreds of thousands of dollars for speaking engagements. Surely this is an organization that is deserving of his generosity, so he again reached into his treasury and found 900 million dollars. This will make the WEasels very happy, he thought as his fingers discovered one more hair on his long, pointy chin.

It took very little time to float this idea to the King's advisers, and of course they all agreed it was a fine idea, since many of them had also benefitted monetarily from the WEasels.

In short order the motion was passed and the WEasels were now in charge of administering a wonderful program for a bored generation eager to go out and help the world while collecting a nice little pay cheque.

Although this had seemed Iike a very well thought out idea at its inception, it didn't take long for cracks to appear once the local scribes and heralds found out how much King Justin's mother and brother had gotten paid by the WEasels. Then, when they found out that Money Billy had received almost $50,000 as well (but had kind of forgotten about it), it looked as though King Justin would have an uprising on his hands. In the end it seemed easier just to fire Money Billy in hopes the people's anger would be assuaged. King Justin had plenty of other servants who could do Money Billy's job, after all.

The other thing that was weighing heavily on the King's mind was how to extend the holidays of his counselors. Yes it was true they'd already been on holidays for five whole months, ever since the plague hit, but these had been five glorious months for King Justin, as he had no one to answer to and could pretty much do anything he wanted without fear of some ignorant hillbilly from the western part of the kingdom criticizing his motives.

During this time he had developed a new morning ritual that involved one on one, personalized chats with his subjects via a microphone and several cameras set up outside his comfy cottage. He used these times to assure his people that he was managing everything from the cottage and there was no need to be afraid, unless of course you were to leave your home - then you should be very afraid.

His favorite episode of these chats was the one right before Easter weekend. Putting on his most somber face, he looked straight into the camera and said, “This weekend is going to be very different. You’ll have to stay home. You’ll have to skip that big family dinner and the Easter egg hunt. During that weekend, we'll all have to find creative ways to celebrate Easter since none of us will be going to the cottage."

He thought it had played quite well and the next day left to go to his other cottage with his family for the weekend. It still irked him that even though there was no one watching over him, somehow the scribes and heralds had found out about that one too.

Oh well, he had planned on using the news of a few new outbreaks of the plague to enforce his stay-at-home order and thereby keep all those meddling servants at home for a few more months. This would have been perfect, but then someone came up with the hare-brained idea that simply covering your mouth and nose with a piece of cloth was sufficient to protect you from the plague. Of course all the people believed that one right away and began making plans to send their children back to school, each with their own fashionable handkerchief tied on with a ribbon. Now he had to think of something else to keep those guys at home.

Suddenly, King Justin had an idea. This was not something that happened all that often so he was quite elated. "Since I am the King", Justin reasoned to himself, "surely I can just take some time off without having to ask somebody about it." This made perfect sense to him, since he really had been under extra stress with all the unfavourable news reports and having to fire his good friend Money Billy.

The next day he sent a message to all his servants and counselors that they should continue to stay home because he was taking another month off and therefore everyone else was also entitled to more time off. He was sure all his servants would be very happy with his ample generosity.

Excited to be on holidays, King Justin began making plans for the next month and half. He was pretty sure he'd have plenty of time to come up with another plan when this period was over. Maybe this time he'd be able to get rid of those guys for good...

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The War on Words

by Ken Hiebert

Lots of talk about words these days. It seems like every other day there's a new dissertation on which words are ok to say, and which ones are unacceptable.

These days, the meanings of words change with the weather. Words that were rather ordinary last year now carry malicious intent, and words that once described specific, insidious behaviours now are applied to half the human race seemingly on a whim.

I remember when I was in elementary school and people with Down Syndrome were still referred to as "mentally retarded". Oops, sorry. I meant to say, "mentally r-------". Anyway, the meaning of that word is probably as close as you're ever going to get to what's really going on, and the American Medical Association still used it as of 2019 as a medical descriptor of the condition. [1] Also, it's probably the least offensive way to phrase it, since it simply means, "delayed" and taken in it's original context, it actually sounds a lot better than handicapped, or challenged, or intellectually disabled.

So, why was this word deleted from the English language? Well, technically it hasn't been because it still has a legitimate use as referring to anything other than a person's mental faculties, although it's almost never used for fear of misunderstandings. It is still an acceptable musical term (ritard) which means to gradually slow down.

According to Ben Zimmer, language columnist at the Wall Street Journal, words like "moron" and "imbecile" were legitimate scientific descriptions at one time, but were officially discontinued when the the common folk began using them as synonyms for "idiot" and "fool". [2]Of course, these words aren't nearly so caustic as the implications of the R-word, even though the R-word by itself is much more benign and needn't refer to a person's mental state at all.

So, essentially what happened (and what continues to happen) is that really smart, well-educated people came up with a word to accurately describe a medical or psychological condition, but then were forced to abandon it because a bunch of low-lifes came in and stole it and began wielding it against their drunken buddies who accidentally hit them in the groin with an errant pool cue at the bar on Friday night.

It's kind of like the musician who spends a year writing and recording a beautiful piece of music, only to have it used at a Donald Trump rally. [3]

Of course, it really doesn't even matter what the word actually means, but only how it's used. If mean and nasty people hadn't used the term with such derision and so insultingly, it likely would never have been outlawed in the first place. Sadly, it doesn't seem to matter what word is used to describe someone's perceived "lesser state", bullies still exist and their friends still drink too much beer, so they will still use whichever word is current to insult the less fortunate, which eventually will result in that word being banned as well. So, of course it's not the words that are the problem, but the attitudes of those using them and so far there's been no way to ban assholery.

The funny thing is, as soon as someone decides that a word is far too poisonous and destructive to be allowed to exist, the black market value of that word immediately goes through the roof. Any word with the dubious honour of being chosen to be represented by a single letter has a status and juiciness that's hard to resist and this alone ensures its survival. Try putting a plate of cookies on the table and telling your kids not to touch it while you're out.

Now, I'm not suggesting that we bring back the R-word, I'm just saying that the more we let bullies and other tormentors dictate which words we ban, the fewer words we'll have at our disposal, or our defense. Lucky for us, there are still dozens of word choices available if you absolutely must feel the need to insult someone's intelligence, and you'd likely be doing yourself a favour to add a few of them to your vocabulary - while you're still allowed to.

Footnotes:

1. AMA House of Delegates - Eliminating use of the term "mental retardation" by physicians in clinical settings PDF

2. Mark Peters, The Boston Globe - The R-word and the challenging history of words for dummies

3. Andrew Solender, Forbes - All The Artists Who Have Told Trump To Stop Using Their Songs At His Rallies

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Ok, I'm a DENIER!

by Ken Hiebert

I admit it. I've been looking for a Deniers Anonymous group near me but I just can't seem to find one. Maybe that's because the people this group is meant to help only show their faces on some dark social media site after 10:00 in the evening. Or maybe they just don't show up because they're tired of being mistaken as toothless inbred hillbillies from Saskatchewan. Whatever the reason, it looks like I'm on my own so I may as well tell the world.

I'm a Denier.

I've read way too much about the climate change issue to ever look at the world population with the same innocence I did five or ten years ago. I've read a pile of books, and the abstracts of dozens of peer-reviewed scientific papers, as well as had hundreds of arguments with people I don't even know, and after all of that, I think my biggest takeaway is that the 97% "consensus" is a lie according to the actual study itself (Quantifying the Consensus on Anthropogenic Global Warming in the Scientific Literature - Cook et al), and if you don't believe me, then you obviously haven't read it, but now you can - here. Of course you don't have to read it, but if you choose not to read it now and still continue to not believe me, then I think we've established what the biggest problem with all of this really is. And remember, we're talking about scientists who believe the majority of global warming is due to man's influence. By the way, if you do decide to read it (and I'd get a pot of coffee going beforehand if I were you) you'll want to pay particular attention to #2 Methodology and #3 Results. Anyway, because of this, the science is evidently not quite as "settled" as we've been led to believe, even though we constantly hear that it is. This is probably the most important point of all for a number of reasons...

Because I'm a denier, let's for a moment imagine a world where the science of human-caused global warming wasn't actually a "fact" that almost every single scientist in the world agreed upon. If the science isn't settled, then that means that other theories and explanations are valid and worth considering (forgive me if this sounds a bit too much like actual science). If other theories are valid, then that means that a growing portion of the population who happen to agree with many eminent and important scientists who are not part of the mystical 97% may not actually be inbred morons subsisting on scraps from Big Oil after all, even though the media and those followers of the "Church of the Consensus" would have us believe that they are.

If 97% of scientists (oh sorry, I hear it just ticked up to 98% now) don't really believe that humans are the main cause of global warming, then that would mean that the governments who also espouse this belief and who send their representatives jetting all over the globe to climate change conferences are perhaps just wasting our tax dollars (as inconceivable as that may sound).

If the science is not in fact settled, then why is it that the media says that it is - over and over and over again? You decide, but I can't stand it when people lie to me, and then turn around and accuse me of being a complete idiot for asking for clarification.

Thankfully the phrase, "science is not a democracy" also seems to be gaining traction these days and I've heard enough real scientists say it to believe that it must have at least some merit.

So there you have it - the truth is out. I'm a denier. I deny that half the population of the western world are money-grubbing imbeciles. I deny that the thousands of legitimate scientists that question the "consensus" on man's contribution to global warming are only there to collect a big, fat pay cheque from the oil companies. I also deny that any of this is worth the childish name-calling (this happens on both sides, and I would definitely include the term "denier" in this) and the "blocking" of otherwise fine individuals (online and in real life).

Let's all just grow up and go plant our Canadian gardens, if it ever warms up enough here...

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A Tale of Two Kingdoms

5 minute read

by Ken Hiebert

This is a story about a boy named Justin. 

Justin was the Ruler of a Small Kingdom surrounded by three oceans. It was a magical kingdom powered by rainbows and unicorn farts. King Justin had many servants who helped him rule the Small Kingdom. Chief among these were the Queen of the Environment and Changing Climates, Princess YamYam (who was in charge of making sure no one got offended), and the two Billys - Money Billy and Safety Billy, but they didn’t really do very many useful things.  The servants that worked the hardest were the Leaders of the Kingdom's Law Enforcers, those who helped King Justin enforce his many commandments.  

As beautiful as the Small Kingdom was, it had a big problem: many of its citizens were being killed by people with guns and King Justin just didn't know what to do about it.  He went to Safety Billy and the Leaders of the Law Enforcers and said, “I think we should ban all assault-style weapons.  This way, those weapons would cease to exist in the Small Kingdom and none of my fine citizens would ever have to worry about being assaulted again.”  

Safety Billy and the Leaders of the Law Enforcers went away thinking very hard about what the King had said, although the Leaders of the Law Enforcers were pretty sure it was a dumb idea.

Then one day, several months afterwards when all the King’s advisors were on holidays and relaxing in their basements, King Justin decided to ban all assault-style weapons.  Not actual assault weapons, mind you - assault "style" weapons,  because actual assault weapons had already been banned long before Justin was even able to form a coherent sentence (well ok, let's just say it was a long time ago). Being a fair King, Justin decided not to ban the small handguns because, well, they're small and probably not very dangerous anyway.  

The citizens in the Small Kingdom already knew it was all about style with Justin - socks, costumes, makeup - Justin was truly the King of Style.  And so in order to make his list look really grand, he also banned rocket launchers, grenade launchers, and a few anti-tank guns.  Of course, these had also been banned for longer than most could remember, but now they were DOUBLE-BANNED, so the citizens could rest easy, knowing they would never see any motorized vehicles going down the main street with those puppies on the roof any time soon.

But King Justin had a problem: since all these newly banned assault-style weapons also happened to belong to good, regular, law-abiding citizens, and it was now up to him to remove these dangerous weapons for the good of the Small Kingdom, he decided to ease the blow a bit by putting aside 600 million dollars to buy the assault-style weapons back from said law-abiding citizens, even though these guns had never been used in a crime and these citizens had never committed a crime.  "Surely this will make them very happy", Justin thought to himself.  

But Justin had another problem: the Small Kingdom shared a very long, undefended border with another, much larger kingdom that was filled with real assault weapons (not just styled ones), and so to show his citizens that he was in fact a good sport, King Justin decided to dip into the royal treasury and came up with something to help secure the Small Kingdom's border on the off chance that somebody, somewhere might possibly attempt to smuggle a handgun or two over the extremely long, undefended border. 

86 million dollars.  

Spread over five years, because you don't want to get too crazy with tax-payers’ money, you know.  Okay, so it wasn't quite as flashy as the 600 mil to take guns away from his loyal subjects, but at least it was something, right?

Now, we need to back up a little bit to a day, several months before all this happened...

King Justin happened to be on vacation when the Leaders of the Law Enforcers met to discuss what could be done about all the killing and all the small handguns that were showing up on the streets of the Small Kingdom, and to discuss the King’s wish of banning assault-style weapons.  These people dealt with crime on a daily basis and were a valuable source of information for Justin.  It was good that Justin had a ready ear for people like this so the citizens could be confident that he wasn't just doing random stuff or forging blindly ahead with an ideological agenda.  

After much discussion, the Leaders of the Law Enforcers came to an astounding conclusion: almost all of the guns being used to kill the citizens of the Small Kingdom were not from the Small Kingdom at all, but in fact were small handguns being smuggled over the very long, undefended border from the Large Kingdom next door.  They realized that banning these weapons would do nothing to stop the senseless slaughter of the Small Kingdom's citizens because the Large Kingdom had an unending supply.

The Leaders of the Law Enforcers tried to get their message to King Justin but alas, they could not contact him in time, as he was at a costume party and couldn't be disturbed.  They left a message with Safety Billy, but he misplaced it just before Justin returned from his vacation and so poor Justin never got that valuable information that could have changed the fate of the Small Kingdom...

       ****to be continued****

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Do I Need Sensitivity Training?

4 minute read

by Ken Hiebert

I've been told on more than one occasion that I really should be more careful of what I say on social media, so as not to unwittingly offend anyone. My initial response to this is usually something like, "People already know that I'm not an asshole so if they want clarification, surely they could just ask."

Of course, while I'm making this reply I'm usually thinking something along the lines of, "I don't really give a rat's ass what people think anyway, so why should I care?"

Now, I'm not completely clueless and I am aware of a couple of reasons why I should care, not the least of which is the fact that as a self-employed individual I rely on word of mouth and the good opinions of the people in my community in order to pay my bills. Also, I don't want my kids to have a hard time in school because their Dad is a moron. So, there's that. Beyond that though, it seems that it would be an exercise in futility, given that the people I'm most likely to offend are already living in a constant state of offense anyway.

A Disclaimer of sorts

It's occurred to me that perhaps I should preface each post on social media with some sort of disclaimer. Perhaps this would suffice:

All opinions in the following post are mine alone and therefore in the event that an offense is incurred, no other entities shall be blamed.

These entities which shall not be blamed include (but are not limited to): my wife, my kids, my dog, the price of oil, climate change.

If the following (in whole or in part) does cause an offense, please refer to this exhaustive list of parties that may be blamed: Me.

Or something like that.

Seriously though, I think what bothers me most about needing to start every statement with a disclaimer (other than the time it would take to write it out) is that it assumes that the person listening is not really interested in what I'm trying to say, but is much more interested in what kind of box they should put me in, or maybe just so self-absorbed that they can't see past their own opinions anyway.

For instance, if I make the political statement, "Justin Trudeau is the worst Prime Minister in history", many will immediately assume that because I disagree with Trudeau, that must mean I agree with everything Andrew Scheer says, which must mean that I'm also a Trump supporter and by extension I'm obviously a filthy racist getting money from some oil cartel. In actual fact, none of these things are remotely true (except possibly the initial statement about Trudeau) but it doesn't even matter because in most people's minds there is no middle ground, but only two extremes (at least when it comes to politics and religion). I actually believe it's a little bit better in Canada than it is in the U.S. in this regard, but I can see it going south (pun intended) a bit more every year.

Another reason I don't like to preemptively sanitize everything I say is that I would much rather have an actual discussion about it than just have people tap "like" as they're scrolling by.

It just bothers me that people think they can and should be able to know me based on a couple of comments, as if all our complexities distill into no more than the world's worst stereotypes. I mean, we all know that Liberals are mamby-pamby snowflakes who love government control and can't stand it when someone actually goes out on his own and does something worthwhile. By contrast, we also know that Conservatives are all bigoted, science-denying hippocrites who also happen to be getting rich off the backs of their underpayed employees. Except of course for the inbred hillbillies in Saskatchewan and Alberta living off the scraps that the oil companies toss their way. As you can see, neither of these positions lends itself to calm, rational discussion.

So, do I need sensitivity training?

So, I guess my position on whether I need sensitivity training or not boils down to this:

If you take offense at something I say, I'd like to know - not so I can ridicule you or laugh at you, but because in all likelyhood you probably misunderstood what I was trying to say, or possibly you got offended by a fact of life that I have no control over. Regardless, you can be quite assured that my goal is never to offend anyone, so I would welcome the discussion.

Let's talk religion - NOT

In fact, if there is one topic of discussion that I almost never engage in online, it would be religion simply because I consider that to be a much more personal and sincere part of one's identity than politics. Of course in the U.S. they're pretty much the same thing and I believe that's one of the things that has made it so volatile down there.

Anyway, if you sense an offense has been committed, please refer to the disclaimer above and remember that not everything you hear comes from one of the two extremes. Those may be the only viewpoints we ever hear on the news, but it's a tiny fraction of what exists in real life. Most people are much more normal than the ones that make the news - that's why you'll never see them on the news. So, maybe if we'd make more of an attempt to actually see who the people are that we engage with on a daily basis, it would be a lot harder to get offended by their different points of view, and we may even begin to understand them.

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Finding Natural Harmonics on Guitar

by Ken Hiebert

Natural harmonics are everywhere! They are one of the things that give the guitar its unique sound. The normal way to play harmonics is by lightly touching the string with the fretting hand (not pressing it to the fret) and plucking it with the picking hand.

The really cool thing about harmonics is that they give a very visual (and audio) example of the mathematics of music and the vibration (frequency) of a plucked string.

The loudest and easiest harmonics to hear (in descending order of loudness) are at the 12th fret (exactly half the length of the string), the 7th fret (exactly two thirds the length of the string), and the 5th fret (exactly one quarter the length of the string). These same harmonics also exist above the 12th fret at exactly the same intervals, except measured from the BRIDGE, so the 5th fret harmonic is repeated at about 7 frets past the 12th fret (19th fret) and the 7th fret harmonic is repeated approximately two inches beyond that (on a standard scale length). Harmonics are all about relative distance and dividing the string into equal parts.

Beyond those obvious ones, each string is full of harmonics up and down its total length and you're hearing all of these every time you pluck a string - it's part of what creates the timbre and tone of the guitar. A lot of this is also created with your hands, and even playing some of these harmonics requires a bit of practice to get a good sound.

Fun fact: you can play a dominant 7th arpeggio on any string by playing the harmonics on the 5th fret, 4th fret, 3rd fret, halfway between the 2nd and 3rd frets, and just past the 2nd fret. You can get these same harmonics within a few inches of the bridge.

So, not all of these are going to actually be useful, but it's cool to know they're there, and it's also cool to see just how mathematical music is. You can check out the 27 second video below to hear what some of these sound like and maybe you can get a better sound than I did on this.

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Capos - a Crutch for Unskilled Guitarists or God's Gift to Peoplekind?

by Ken Hiebert

This is an interesting question, and one that often evokes strong emotions from two main segments of the guitar-playing population.

One is the self-proclaimed "purist" who would never think of defiling himself with such an obvious tool of the inexperienced. This person rigidly believes that if the tune was written in F#, then it must be played in that key regardless of any inconvenience that may result.

The other person who exhibits strong feelings about capos is the guy who tells you that he's never gone a day without using a capo and if you're not using one, then you're obviously totally out of touch with reality and need to spend some time in the real world, where all you need are three chords and the truth.

As always, the actual truth lies somewhere in the middle. Now, if you have to make the band stop and wait for you to move your capo, then perhaps you could put a bit more effort in. If all you know are three chords and you think that knowing how to use a capo is going to get you that gig with the Cool Daddy Jazz Trio you're trying out for on Friday night, then you could definitely do yourself a huge favour by learning a few more chords, including (perhaps) a couple of barre chords.

Having said that, there are some sounds you will never get without a capo. This is especially true in the world of fingerstyle guitar, where open strings are king. I've been playing for well over 35 years and I've been using a capo when necessary (and sometime just because I feel like it) since I started. In fact, when I was a kid I made my own with a pen and a rubber band, kinda like this one:

Now, I don't actually NEED a capo for most things, and I could probably play almost any chord you could name without one, but for some things a capo is a very useful (and I would probably go so far as to say, indispensable) tool. For instance, try playing “Dust in the Wind" in C# without one. I can't, and that's one of the first tunes I learned (well alright, maybe I could do it, but I'd probably rather go get that filling I've been putting off for a month.) Give me a capo though and I can play it in whatever key you want - without hesitation. One reason you would need to do that is to match the key that the vocalist wants (contrary to popular belief, it's not all about you).

Sometimes, I'll put a capo on some random fret and play something I've played for years without one and it takes on a whole different feel. Barre chords are great, but nothing rings like open strings. This is where a capo really shines (in my opinion).

While effortlessly changing keys is probably the main reason one would use a capo (like, who would want to play something in Bb when you could put a capo on the third fret and play it in G?), there are also some cool tricks one could do with a capo.

One of my faves is to capo only the top 5 strings at the second fret and leave the 6th string open. This basically mimics a Dropped D tuning without actually changing the tuning at all, and it allows you to play chords with a 6th string root the same as you would without a capo. Pretty cool...

Of course, in this day of "life hacks" there are many other uses for a capo as well that may not be so obvious to the casual observer of life, and if you've read this far then undoubtedly you'll want to be aware of them, so here they are in no particular order:

#1. A handy stand for your tablet so you can continue playing guitar while you're reading this blog.

#2. A solid toilet paper holder that can be placed anywhere without booking off all of Saturday morning with a less-than-professional install.

#3. Never have those freshly washed bottles tumble off your drip rack again with this portable bottle dryer.

#4. A perfect way to organize your expensive electronic equipment.

#5. A card holder for those late night poker games when you still want to be able to sing Kenny Rogers songs while taking your buddies for everything they own.

#6. The perfect end to a perfect day of playing the only three chords you know in 12 different positions on the neck.

So, I hope by now I've convinced you that what you really want is at least a small collection of capos (and believe me, there are LOTS to choose from) to help you navigate the uncertain terrain of scary key signatures and mundane life experiences. I've always got one easily accessible and I encourage all my students to get one as well. If you know of any other uses for a capo, you can let me know and I'll add it to the list.

For now, let me just leave you with this:

Capos are awesome and you want one.

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Left-handed Guitars - A Solution in Search of a Problem

by Ken Hiebert

Ah, the age-old question:

If you're left-handed, is it better to learn on a left-handed guitar?

I'd like to posit this question in a slightly different way:

Why on earth would you want to?

Being left-handed myself, and someone who plays guitar "right-handed", as well as being a guitar instructor for the last dozen years or more, I have developed some fairly strong opinions on this.  If you happen to be a left-hander who plays a left-handed guitar, please don't take offense at this because it really only applies to those who are just beginning their journey.  If you already know how to play then please keep on rockin'!

For everyone else, let me first attempt to answer the second question. If you are left handed (like me), you've probably noticed that pretty much everything in the world is against you because it's been designed with the right-handed person in mind. Whether it's using an old-school can opener or those little school desks with the left side wide open, or even trying to write with a pen and smearing ink all across the page, it's pretty obvious that the world has it in for lefties - and don't even get me started about writing in a three ring binder. Oh yeah, and right-handed scissors. Whoa. Well, thankfully someone did come up with a left-handed version of those that works, but with most of these other things, we're basically screwed. It's sink or swim, buddy. Get with the program or get out and walk.

It's pretty severe and the struggle is real, but if there was something a left-hander could just do naturally and not worry about having to adjust his or her whole life to do it, wouldn't that be preferable?

I remember my Mom telling me about my aunt (who's a lefty) when she was in school. The teacher had been trying to force her to write with her right hand (there it is again - wRITE with the right hand, the proper hand). Anyway, she was having a tough time until my Grandpa went down there and tore a strip off that teacher and told her she better let his damn kid write with whichever hand she damn well wants (or something like that). So, it fixed the problem, but not without a lot of pain and a huge amount of expended energy.

Now, back to the answer to the second question which I'll repeat because by now you've likely forgotten what it was:

"Why on earth would anyone want to play a left-handed guitar?"

So, you're a lefty who really wants to play guitar and you just came home with your first left-handed guitar.  You've taken lessons for a month or so and you've just spent the whole weekend working on the coolest riff you've ever heard.   Let's say it was the riff from "Smoke on the Water", because if you've just started learning guitar, then that probably *is* the coolest riff you've ever heard. Now, say you're at your friend's place and he's also learning how to play guitar and you're really pumped to show him this awesome riff.  Then you realize that you don't know how to play *his* guitar.  You only know how to play *your* guitar.  Then repeat that scenario for every one of your other friends as well.

Now fast forward about a year and you're in a small music store, and there's this dude playing a really nasty version of "Stairway to Heaven" and you know you can play it WAY better than him. You look around on the rack for a lefty guitar but sadly, they don't have any in stock.  Foiled again!

Now, I totally skipped over the part where you went to your local, small-town music store and played a dozen different guitars because you wanted to find the perfect one to make all your dreams come true - one you could buy with the money you saved pumping gas all summer.  The reason I skipped that part is because it likely never happened.  You'd be lucky to find even one guitar you could play at most small music stores and guaranteed, it's going to be more money than its right-handed equivalent.

Ok, so after all of that, I still don't know why anyone would ever really *want* to play a left handed guitar, unless someone simply convinces you that you should.

My first band consisted of myself on guitar, my friend Ian on bass guitar, and my other friend James on drums.  James also played guitar and Ian played everything, but the one thing we had in common is that we were all left-handed. What are the chances!?

*Interesting side note:

Like most lefties, we enjoyed talking about how the entire world is against us, and when another friend noticed this, he remarked that we "sounded like a bunch of bitter southpaws." Our band name was born!

Now, the interesting thing about these three Bitter Southpaws is that we all played guitar right-handed.  Another interesting tidbit is that in the arts, the incidence of left-handedness seems to be relatively high, and among left-handed guitarists, the majority of them don't play a left-handed guitar.

Here's another question that you probably have never asked:

"Why does everyone in North America operate a standard transmission with their right hand, while in the UK they use the left hand?"  

Here's a hint - it's not because everyone in North America is right handed or that everyone is left handed in the UK. It's because that's the way they are built.  To build them the other way around would be ridiculous and would cause more problems than the imaginary one it would solve.  Just because you are offered a choice doesn't mean that it's legitimate or beneficial.  As a left-hander myself who plays "right" I'm convinced that the opportunity someone saw for a niche market in left handed guitars was a solution in search of a problem.  Could you learn to play a left handed guitar?  Of course, but why would you want to unless some salesperson convinced you that you should?  

I'm also convinced that left-handed guitars have caused more problems than they've solved.  Learning a musical instrument is challenging enough as it is, so why in the world would anyone want to make it more complicated than it needs to be?  

There have also been some great players of upside-down guitars (Jimi Hendrix, Alber King, Elizabeth Cotton), as well as great guitarists who played with the guitar laying flat on their laps (Jeff Healey comes to mind.)   Could you do that? Probably.  That doesn't mean that it's the easy way or the best way to do it, it just means that humans are capable of almost anything they put their minds to.  I've even seen someone play guitar with his feet.  You gotta do what you gotta do, I guess.

So, to answer the first question:

Should a lefty start learning on a left-handed guitar?

If you've never played a guitar before, then I would say a resounding NO!  I don't think personal preference has anything to do with it.  In order to play guitar well, both hands need to function well above what would be considered "normal function" for non-musicians and if you're starting from zero anyway, you might as well just do it the normal way.  Learn to play the instrument the way it was designed.  It will make your life easier.  There's a reason you don't see right-handed pianos, or right-handed saxophones.  Now, I've taught a few lefties in my day, but they had already been playing that way for over a year before they came to me, so changing it up at that point would not only have been insensitive, it would’ve been completely ridiculous.

When I walked into my first guitar lesson over 35 years ago and picked up my first guitar in a left handed fashion, Chet Breau (son of the late, great Lenny Breau) told me something like, "Kid, if you don't already know how to play that thing, I'm gonna teach you the RIGHT way!"  I'm so glad he did, and this is exactly how I approach the subject with my own students today.

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The Road Trip (a short story)

by Ken Hiebert

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, though slightly cool.  Tim had managed to be up by 7:00 that morning to prepare for his road trip.  He’d already had his shower and made a pot of coffee and by 8:00 he was pretty much ready to leave.  He had planned to head into the city for the day, and it was a good two hour drive so he wanted to get a bit of a head start.  He filled his travel mug, put on his jacket, and headed out the door.  He was actually looking forward to a nice leisurely drive, knowing he had the whole day as he got into the car.  He left the yard and was about five minutes out when he suddenly put his hand to his chest to feel for his wallet.

“Shit!”, he said as he realized he had left his wallet in his other jacket.  This time of year it seemed you never knew which jacket to wear and his wallet more often than not resided in the jacket still hanging in the closet.  Thankful that he caught his mistake early, he turned around on the gravel road and headed back home.

He parked the car and shut it off, in case he ended up being inside longer than he planned.  The car was almost warm, and it wasn’t really that cold outside anyway.

Once inside, he noticed his answering machine was blinking so he listened to the first half of the message before deleting it - another telemarketer.  He located his wallet, topped up his coffee and went for a quick pee.  He felt good about remembering to feed the cat on the way out, even though he hadn’t seen him yet that morning.  By the time he got back to the car, a full twenty minutes had elapsed and he was starting to feel like he should be in a hurry.  He started the car and headed out again, this time with the music on about half volume.  

About ten minutes into his drive he began to feel a bit of warm air from the vents.  He had a sip of his coffee and thought he caught the faintest aroma of food cooking.  He realized he hadn’t had breakfast.  He took another sip and turned his attention back to the road.  

Twenty minutes later he reached out and turned up the fan to get some air moving in the cab since it was a little too cold outside to open the window.  There was that smell again, a fair bit stronger now.  Now it didn’t smell so much like lunch cooking, but more like something was burning.  

“Shit!” he said.  He pulled the car over, killed the engine, and popped the hood.  As soon as he did, he could see a bit of smoke curling out from the driver’s side of the engine compartment.  When he came around to the front of the car, he was a little confused at first.  The source of the smoke was what at first appeared to be a large, oily looking rag lying beside the engine.  Within about five seconds, Tim realized that it was not in fact a rag at all, but was the remains of the cat that he had so diligently fed not more than 45 minutes ago.  The poor creature must have gotten out of the house unnoticed as Tim was going in to retrieve his wallet and then, feeling the chill morning air had taken refuge in the slightly warm engine compartment.

“Shit!”, said Tim again, putting his hand over his mouth.  The cat was barely recognizable as it must have gotten caught in a belt as it was trying to escape and now a good portion of it was baked on to the side of the engine block.  

A little unsure of what to do, Tim opened the back door to find some tool that might help him out of his predicament.  He came up with an ice scraper and a screw driver.  He didn’t really know what he was going to do with the screw driver but it was the green Robertson that he’d been missing for over a week so he figured he’d better at least take it out of the back seat.

The majority of the cat was extricated without much fanfare, but it was the left overs that were really causing Tim some grief.  It didn’t take long to realize that simply scraping the smoking meat off one surface just allowed it to fall onto another surface that was much harder to get at.  Tim went back into the rear seat to find more tools.  This time he came out with a crumpled up McDonald’s bag.  There was a Big Mac container inside and after tearing the top off, he was able to wedge that down into the engine compartment underneath the portions of stir-fried cat and then just scrape the remains into the container.  Reaching down to remove the container from the bottom of the engine, Tim brushed his arm against the still hot manifold.

“Shit!”, he yelled, ripping his arm away from the heat source. Tim wasn't normally all that good at performing more than one task at a time, although in this instance he did manage to remove his arm from danger at lightning speed while at the same moment slamming his head up against the hood of the car. He blinked back tears, cursed a few more times, and waited for his eyes to focus again. That was going to leave a mark.

Knowing that he couldn’t leave the container there, he reached down and carefully picked it up.  It looked disgusting and the contents were all stuck to the inside.  Wait, was that an ear?!  Not wanting to leave his litter by the side of the road, Tim gingerly dropped the container back into the McDonald’s bag, rolled the top, and set it on the passenger seat.

Throwing the ice scraper and the screw driver into the back seat, Tim started the car and pulled back onto the road.  By now it was almost 10:30 and he was really beginning to wish he’d had breakfast.  There was a town about 10 minutes from where he was so he decided to stop there for something to eat.  

Just a little ways into town there was a McDonald’s on the right so Tim pulled into the parking lot and got out.  He was getting a little tired of being in the car right now.  He also wanted to find a garbage for the cat.  He got out with the bag of cat and started towards the restaurant.  Almost immediately he whirled around and went back to get his travel mug.  He thought he should at least get a refill while he was here.  He put the bag on the roof of the car and leaned in to get his mug.  Then he noticed a few other items of trash that had been accumulating for longer than he could remember.  He grabbed the offending items and walked into the restaurant.  He found the nearest garbage can and dumped his load.  Only then did he realized he’d forgotten to take the cat bag off the roof.

“Shit!”, said Tim under his breath.  Well, there was no way he was going back to get that stupid bag now - at least not until he’d had something to eat.  There were several people waiting in line so he got in too and quickly scanned the menu.  As he was waiting in line, he looked out the window and could see his car with the bag sitting on the roof.  It looked kind of suspicious, but he didn’t really care.  As he was staring out the window and waiting for his turn to order, he saw an older gentleman shuffle up to the car, furtively look in each direction, and then quickly snatch the bag off the roof.  Tim almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing - this was definitely getting to be the weirdest day on record for him.  He ran his hand through his hair and was instantly reminded of the car hood incident.  Yup, there was indeed a good sized egg there.

Shaking his head slowly, Tim finally stepped up to the counter to make his order.  Just before he started to speak he noticed the old man out of the corner of his eye.  He was coming up right behind him holding the bag.  Tim began to wonder if the guy had seen him leave it on the roof and was now coming to return it to him.  He decided he’d try ignoring the guy.  The man got into the next line over.  Tim didn’t look at him and tried to concentrate on making his order.  Eventually, he managed to tell the cashier what he wanted and now was waiting for his order to be filled.  He took a sidelong glance at the man, who was now standing to his left and a little behind him. Right at that moment, Tim saw the man open the bag and peer down inside.  

The old man gasped and his hands went up to his face, dropping the bag.  He then collapsed and fell over backwards. Thankfully the customer behind him was able to catch him and ease him onto the floor.

There weren’t that many people in the restaurant but one of them seemed to have had some medical training and called 911.  Sensing the man was likely in good hands, and not wanting to call unnecessary attention to himself, Tim retreated to a table beside the door determined to eat his breakfast before heading back out on the road. Also, he couldn't help feeling at least partially responsible for the unfolding drama.

It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive and when it did, the medics came in with a stretcher and began talking with the customers who were there.  By now, the man was conscious, although feeble and the medics helped him onto the stretcher and then wheeled him out the door.

From his seat by the window, Tim had a clear view of the ambulance and could see the gentleman on the stretcher inside.  He was feeling rather badly for the old gent and as he was watching the scene, he saw a woman run out the door and hand the medic a rumpled McDonald’s bag. The medic waved a thank you and reached into the back of the vehicle. Tim was quite sure he caught a glimpse of the old man's eyes opening wide as the medic gently placed the bag on the man's chest and shut the door.

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Alternative News Digest - Jan. 2020

Trans Guitarist Opts for callous Implants on Left Hand

by Ken Hiebert

One often overlooked fact about someone who plays guitar a lot, are the callouses that build up on the fingers of the fretting hand.  It’s been said that you can tell how fine a guitarist a person is by how calloused his fingers are.

Enter Jimi Goodwin, a trans-guitarist from a small Manitoba town who's known to his friends as “Shreddar”.  The young guitarist has decided to take the next step in his transition by getting callous transplants on the fingers of his left hand as well as hair extensions at his local salon.  

Peeking over a pair of large sunglasses, Goodwin says, “I’ve always known I was a guitarist.  Even as young as age three I remember shredding on air guitar to Van Halen’s Eruption.”  All through high school, Goodwin has been seen by his classmates as “different” and he’s also been the victim of much bullying.

Jimi was born "Holden Meinschlong" but changed his name when he was 10 years old and realized he was a guitarist trapped in the body of a normal person. Jimi says the simple act of changing his name has liberated him from the identity he was assigned at birth and he now feels anything is possible for him. When asked about his son's transition, Rob Meinschlong says he and his wife are completely supportive. Says Meinschlong, "It took us a while to see where Jimi was coming from, but eventually we came to realize that just because he's never bothered to actually learn how to play an instrument, that's no reason he should be denied his dream."

Eric Paget, who has been playing guitar for 8 years and also plays in a local band said, “What makes him think he’s a guitar player?  That guy can’t even bang a drum, let alone play a guitar.”  Goodwin says that has nothing to do with it, since he has identified as a guitarist his whole life.  In grade eight he even grew his hair long and wore ripped up jeans like his favourite rock stars, but when he got to grade nine his parents made him cut his hair so he would look more “respectable”.  That didn’t stop him from perfecting the Devil sign as he swaggered down the school hallways.

Now, he says he’s just tired of pretending to be something he’s not and he’s ready to get on with his life.  According to Goodwin, he’s been in transition for almost a year now.  Ten months ago he began working on a drug addiction and that appears to be going rather well.  He’s also been getting used to wearing sunglasses indoors for most of the day, and even sometimes at night, even if just to hide his bloodshot eyes. Goodwin says he's just so thankful to have grown up in a country where "you can literally be whoever you want."

While he doesn’t actually own a guitar, Jimi Goodwin has watched enough YouTube videos to know the correct way to tune the low E string down to a D to play those really heavy power chords. He says he's looking forward to the summer when he plans to tour with his band and crowd surf through a sea of hot chicks.

Rock on, Jimi.

Rock on...

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Money for Nothin'

A friend asked me to play the intro to Money for Nothing so I figured I'd do it in a way that was a little more true to the style I generally play. A tribute to one of my favourite guitarists.

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Where Have All the Songsters Gone?

by Ken Hiebert

This is a question that has had me perplexed for some time.  Or maybe the more pertinent question is, "If there are great songwriters, will people even listen to them?"  I'm thinking of guys like The Eagles, Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot, Lennon/McCartney and a host of others as well.  Add whomever you want to the list, but I'm talking about people who wrote amazing songs that were hugely popular at the time and these songs are still alive and well 40 or 50 years later.  Will any of the popular music of today be around in 40 years?  There is so much of everything available so easily and at so little cost, that the actual (perceived) value has been cheapened to the extent that most products are built just to throw away.  The general attitude is that it's cheaper and easier to just toss something and get a new one, rather than to maintain it and keep it for life.  The attitude towards the mass consumption of music I'm sure is much the same.  People have 5000 songs on their iPods, the vast majority of which were forgotten shortly after they were downloaded and the main objective is just to get more, newer, cooler tunes. The fact is, there are great songwriters out there right now, but how many of us can even hear them, much less find them?  And if we do hear them, will we recognize their value to be such that we want to hold onto them?  The longevity of any great song still requires those who love it to keep it alive and if they're much more interested in moving on to something new and "more exciting", they probably won't be bothered. The only CDs I tend to buy these days are from local artists that I actually know because they are as good as it gets and they are easy to find and great to listen to - and those discs won't get lost at the bottom of my hard drive and then get deleted to make room for new stuff.

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Happy New Year, everyone!