D.卡尔顿 罗西
D. Carlton Rossi

General Views

                              Hockey Eh


As a Canadian, I’ve grown up with hockey.  I learned to skate at age three. My father placed a wooden chair in front of me and then told me to push it across the ice. He and his neighbour built the outdoor rink across their backyards.  It cannot be done anymore because yards are now fenced. The other boys liked to play hockey but didn’t like to clear off the ice. I had to clear off the ice.  It was my first job.

On hot summer afternoons, the boys would play ball hockey on the road or wherever they could. In a close scuffle, I was cut across the forehead with a stick. I rode my bike to the hospital, got stitched up and then returned to the game.

On a cold winter day in January I broke through the ice.  I was alone on the marsh.  My legs went right out under the ice.  I wondered how deep it was.  I was lucky.  It was only a few feet deep.  It didn’t make it easier to get out though because the ice kept breaking wherever I touched it.  I froze in the frigid temperature.

My father took me to a Leafs game in Toronto. I saw Tim Horton. You see, he was the defence man for the Leafs.  Today, he is a coffee shop.  Yes, I stayed up to see the Leafs win the Stanley Cup--twice.

Then there was the Canada-Russian hockey series in ‘72. No Canadian or Russian will forget that hockey series.  It broke the ice so to speak between the two countries.  It was before the US- China ping pong tournament. I asked my teacher if I could play hookie to watch the final game of hockey.  He thought lessons were more important. I didn’t. However, I attended the lesson. 

In the past, the players were skilful. They loved the sport. They loved the rivalry. They respected their opponent.

Then hockey changed. The money became important. The violence escalated. That is when I lost interest in the game of hockey.

The final Stanley Cup Game between the Vancouver Canucks and the Boston Bruins is the first I have seen in years.  It’s still a shock to see modern hockey.  It’s a shock to hear the commentator say the teams hate each other—despise each other.  It’s a shock to see the charging, spearing, tripping, elbowing and slashing. All of it ended in riots.  This isn’t the game of hockey that I remember or that my great grandfather played as goalie for the local team.

Today, I like mixed martial arts. It’s bloodier, yes.  However, they fight by the rules.  Fighters respect their opponent.  I remember reading Mandela’s autobiography.  It was boxing that made Mandela strong. He respected the rules and he respected his opponent.  He led the peace movement in the Republic of South Africa and won a Nobel Prize.  He is one of three honourary Canadian citizens. 



Inferiority Complex

So Canada has an "inferiority complex". It no longer regards itself as a middle-power, but only as an observer. I believe rather that Canada is capable of becoming a "superpower". It has a bountiful grain supply and potash to nourish it.  The country has abundant fresh water.  It has significant reserves of heavy and light rare earth elements. The second largest country in the world has the second largest confirmed oil reserves. Canada's Northwest Passage will link Europe and China. It shows technological leadership in many areas that include chemistry, medicine, engineering, banking, communications, entertainment and robotics.  Its people have a strong moral sense. It is a peaceful society and needs only a small military. It lacks only what most other countries lack--leadership.




                                                  The Eight Anniversary

The eighth anniversary of this website approaches. Its inauguration was August 2003. Prior to that time Mr. Sun Dawu was held incommunicado without a lawyer while awaiting trial.  His company ceased to operate as a going concern. His funds were seized. His brothers were arrested. His company’s website was blocked. 

I had been at the village establishing a university in co-operation with an international college and various universities in Beijing at the time of the arrest. Other foreigners had left because of the SARS crisis, but I remained.

My website provided an insider’s view of the situation before, during and after the trial. It supplied uncensored pictures of Mr. Sun and the sprawling conglomerate. It recorded public opinion at the time. Its audience was Chinese.



                                     The poet in mountainous region near Fushan 


                    Changing Concepts and Constructs

The mobile version of this website was recently converted from a Blackberry to an Android platform. This should provide better, faster and wider access to a growing readership. It is undeniable that readers prefer a mobile version to a laptop version by a ratio of 4:1. The downside is that fonts, spacing and text can become distorted on a smaller screen.

The laptop version is undergoing an extensive and intensive transition from a distributive approach to a more focused and compact layout. A new system of categorization and reorganization may help illustrate and illuminate relationships more clearly and concisely. For example, the trilogy of poems called “My Grandparents”, “My Parents” and “Myself” will appear together chronologically for the first time rather than on separate pages. 

A secure website is of paramount importance to the author to protect the integrity of the material and the privacy of the reader. During the first two weeks of March, 2016 this website came under repeated, relentless and sophisticated attacks by arbiters of taste. These attacks were both collective and selective in nature. Among other things it seems that the arbiters find some poems, at best, materially useless and, at worst, valueless if one wishes to trace the placement of planted viruses.

Some examples will suffice to show the general trend of censored poems. The five line poem called “Ideas” appears to be five lines too long for the arbiters.  The poem called “Their Four Familiar Walls” also deals with walls and focuses on the number four. It alludes to the existential writing of a French philosopher. The poem called “The Village” perhaps has too many flowers in the garden. A virus of 1000 lines was embedded in these poems and others. 

All of the poet’s Chinese poems garner particular attention for censure. This is rather mystifying since the language is not foreign English but rather Chinese. It appears though that ancient cultural, poetic and philosophical ideas expressed in these poems is of foreign nature to those who are materially minded and favour Chinese “social least” culture. The poem of cyclicality, flux and harmony of the elements may be deemed offensive because of its use of a traditional Chinese character in its title. Who knows why? One doesn’t ask “Why?” in modern China as it can clog cog.

One must not ignore the poetic-philosophic poem called “La Lune” which is written in French. It deals with the uncertainty principle, chaos theory and quantum physics with respect to a love triangle. The poem ends with a rhetorical question rather than an answer.  

However, it is not just targeted poems which are rejected by the critics, but any material on Fushan. What could be controversial or consequential about a mountain that was systematically torn down for slate by mining interests?  In addition, thousands of years ago it was seen to resemble a tortoise. Now, tortoises don’t move too fast in their long lives; although, eventually, they do go from here to there. Finally, some stones are found at the top of Fushan. What else would one find at the top of any mountain?




She was Meg or Marguerite d'Anjou who was the daughter of Rene of Anjou. Her father held the titular titles of King of Naples, Sicily and Jerusalem. Meg was born in the year 1430. She was the dark version of Joan of Arc who did die in the year 1431.

Meg became the Queen consort of Henry VI.  She effectively substituted in terms of rule for her husband who had bouts of madness.  It was she who called the Great Council which excluded the York faction; thus, sparking the War of the Roses. 

Meg was taken prisoner by the Yorkists and then ransomed. She lived as a relation of the French King.  She did die in 1482.

The war might be understood by today’s younger generation as Armageddon in the War of the Roses game play. Meg also appears as a fictional character in Shakespeare’s Henry VI and Richard III. In the latter play, she acts as a prophetess. She utters imprecations which are fulfilled against the nobles who have brought down the House of Lancaster. 

A decisive battle of the War of the Roses was fought at the Battle of Bosworth some three years after Meg's death. It was here that Richard III of the House of York met the forces of Henry Tudor.  In this decisive battle, Richard was defeated and lost his life.  His remains were identified 528 years later on February 4, 2013.

The word "meg" might also be regarded as an embedded word found in the name of the ancient city called Megiddo. Megiddo was the location of Armageddon or a totally destructive war. The Battle of Megiddo was fought in the 15th century between Egyptian forces led by Pharaoh Thutmose III and Canaanite vassal states.


The central figure is Shu, who is holding up Nut (his daughter) who is arching over him. Geb (her lover) is the Earth god lying upon the Ground. In Egyptian Myth, as depicted here, Shu is seen forcibly separating Nut and Geb from union.

                                     The Lovers

The Chinese Double Seven festival takes place on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month in the Chinese calendar. The formal name in Chinese is 七夕 or Qi Xi in pinyin. In English, it is translated as Seven Night. This year the festival takes place on August 9, 2016. It marks the annual reunion of the cowherd Niu Lang and his wife Zhi Nü who is a seamless weaver of clouds. They were separated by the Jade Emperor. On this festive day, the lovers are able to cross the river of the Milky Way on a bridge of magpies. The reunion refers to the appearance of Altair (Niu Lang) and Vega (Zhi Nü) on both sides of the Milky Way which appear to move closer.  

The passage quoted at the end of this written piece is an expression of exquisite poetry in a novel called Achilles written by Elizabeth Cook. To set the scene, Achilles follows the pale-moon face of his lover Polyxena to the temple of Apollo where Paris has taken refuge. Achilles plunges over the threshold of Apollo's temple when he follows a face which is as bright as the moon (ie. the temple has been cleansed to allow the bright shafts of the sun to enter). Achilles has gone unarmed to the temple. However, he is hit by an arrow shaft of Paris directed by Apollo. 

Chaos ensues when the Trojan scavengers fall on his carcass. The bright blue waves are replaced by the dark waves of purple, green and deep blue. The scene mirrors the beginning of the novel where the Bosphorus is described as two rivers flowing in contrary directions separated by a membrane. 

In the upper river which swiftly flows can be found fish streaming as a rain of arrows in a sharp green sea teeming with life. Below it is another black river (same but not the same) which flows sluggishly and where nothing lives. They are roped together as a single cord pulling the boat to the edge of ocean. 

The cord may change into several things symbolizing harmonized fate. It is the twang brought about by a bow cord composed of separated sinew combed orderly. It is the tight mosaic of the Muses' song before the bones of Achilles and Patroclus are placed separately in the urn and mixed with time. Finally, it is the sight and sound of silver fish weaving a kind of seamless sail for ship or wings for soaring bird in the afterlife. 

"The sound is the sound that would happen if every fish in a silver shoal had its own fine note. An intricacy of sound, a close-stitched cloth. Each fish a needle darting over and under, under and over, till the cloth is tight. Each needle a note, taking its place in the vast canopy of sound that spreads itself out over their heads. This pliant, seam-free cloth of shot silk which encloses them unfurls, interposing itself between them and the sky." 1. 

1. Elizabeth Cook, Achilles, Picador Publishing, New York: 2003, p. 64 (paperback edition).


                                       The Lost Bicycle

On the surface, there is no connection between an underwater drone and a bicycle. However, the closer one looks at the two then the more resemblance one sees. I rode a Schwinn bicycle in 1993.  Coincidentally, that was the same year that Schwinn went bankrupt.  My Schwinn though was a used one and probably about twenty-five years old. It was basic black with a mousetrap behind. I  rode it on Third Ring Road from Chaoyang District to Zhongguancun Road of Haidian District in Beijing. The journey took 45 minutes.

At that time, new Schwinn bicycles were expensive in the capital. They retailed for 300 yuan which was one-third of my salary. I opted for a cheaper used bicycle for 50 yuan. I reasoned that it wouldn't be stolen. It wasn't. Rather, it was lost.

I had parked it with thousands of other bicycles outside the classroom.  It was hard to find among so many bicycles, but usually after a five minute search I would come across it. One day though I didn't.  When all bicycles were removed my bicycle was gone without me. It had been stolen.

I didn't report it to the police because technically speaking I was required to have a bicycle license. Rather, I reported it to my 300 students.They told me that nothing is stolen in China.  What a workers' paradise! There is no theft. Rather, they said to me, it was lost. What does that mean I asked? They answered that if it was not there then it must be lost somewhere. Their deductive logic was impeccable. At any rate, it is much better having 300 students looking for a lost bicycle than one policeman looking for a stolen bicycle without a plate.

The next day I had to take a taxi to work. It was an eye-opener. The driver drove like a bat out of hell.  He literally knocked down a bicycle rider while turning a corner. Now I was confused how I should get to work. I had lost my bicycle, but I could lose my life on a bicycle or in a taxi for that matter.

There was some good news when I arrived at my office. My students had found my bicycle. They took me there. We walked up to the fourth floor of a student dormitory. I knocked on the door. When it was opened I saw my bicycle. I had found the lost bicycle. I wondered how it had found its way up there?

The student was rather surprised to find a professor in his room. He hadn't known it was my bicycle. He explained that he had seen the bicycle without its lock latched. As a public minded citizen he naturally wanted to prevent a theft, so he had taken the bicycle to protect it. He was happy to have provided this public service and return the bicycle to its owner.

Naturally, I didn't believe a word he had said. He had not acted in the public good. Rather, he had acted in what he had believed was his own good. He was mistaken in that belief though because it was obviously not to his benefit to have everyone know that he was a self-appointed custodian of lost and found. Tongue in cheek I thanked him for protecting my bicycle from thieves (who weren't supposed to have existed in China).

A similar situation exists today in China. If you have had something stolen then you never yell "Thief!". No one will come to your assistance. On the other hand, if you yell "Murderer" then everyone will come to your assistance.

D.卡尔顿 罗西




                           See No Forest


I was in our financial capital of Toronto last Friday.  I visited a trader in his office. His office is located about a block away from where I completed the Canadian Securities Course, two year Canadian Investment Finance Course,  options course, Canadian commodities course and Philadelphia exchange currency course and about five blocks away from where I passed the Life Insurance exam. There was something happening that day that was rather amazing.  One of the traders mentioned the name Bre-X. Now I am familiar with that stock because in the dying moments of the company’s existence I bought 100 shares of the company for .10 each.  It was not an investment. I wanted the certificate to hang up on my wall. I paid the registrar $50 to deliver it to me. The certificate represents a rather historical and infamous event in Canadian finance.


On June 3rd the shares of another commodity company tumbled. These were the shares of Sino-Forest Inc. The traders did not pronounce it that way.  They said “See No Forest”. The company has its manufacturing in China, its head office in Hong Kong and raises money in the Canadian capital markets. I am familiar with Sino Forest since its registration in Canada through a reverse takeover. I was never a fan of reverse takeovers. Generally, companies get registration without having to go through the oversight and consideration that a full prospectus might require. In some cases, the acquired company has tax losses that are carried forward which could be used by the acquiring company as an offset.


The shares of Sino-Forest Inc. were in distress that day. So, too, were the notes of the company. Trading was in a frenzy.  The trader made fourteen trades in a short time on the stock before he had time to talk.


There was massive short selling by the American gangster rapper enthusiast Carson Block. A short seller will borrow the stock in order to short it and thus drive the price of the stock down. Short selling must be done on an up tick, but those rules have been diluted. A firm called Muddy Waters which has one employee was shorting the stock of Sino-Forest Inc. which has thousands of employees. The short seller said that the company was borrowing too much and then rolling over the debt as he borrowed the stock to short sell.


I don’t know who is right or wrong. I have never owned or shorted Sino-Forest Inc. However, I do believe that a cease trading order should have been called that day by the OSC or Ontario Securities Commission, so that both sides would have a fair chance to present their case. Also, I would like much better reporting by the various exchanges in short sales.  I don’t want to have to wait two weeks to know that a stock has been shorted and by that time they are out of the position. I want to know in real time the status of short sales.


                     Cobalt Refinery of INCO Vale at Port Colborne


                            The PGM's are in our blood


I received an early education at the INCO refinery in my hometown of Port Colborne. It was here for three summers that I was a laborer.  Among other things I had to wash screens in an acidic bath. While I gained a good wage I lost about five pounds of sweat a day.  This is not an exaggeration since I weighed myself at the beginning and end of a shift. I had to take salt tablets, too. 


The primary metal refined at the refinery was nickel. At that time INCO had a monopoly on nickel. There were by-products of refining.  These included copper, cobalt and the PGM's from the collision of neutron stars. 


It was the PGM's that were of interest to me.  These were collected by special screens at the smokestacks. How valuable were the PGM's?


There were 3000 workers employed at the refinery.  The PGM's paid for the entire wages of the workforce at the nickel refinery.  My father's military background meant that he was chosen to protect the armored truck which went to Toronto.  The PGM's were then shipped to England.  




The  year is 1972.  This is part of a shipment of refined nickel loaded aboard ship in Montreal. It is bound for China. The nickel was refined at the Port Colborne Refinery. As a United Steelworker, I helped cut the sheets on the presses and then ship it out of No. 5 Warehouse. 


My entire family had been employed at the refinery.  My grandfather built the stack and also operated a pneumatic drill. My grandmother contributed to the war effort at the plant during World War II.  My father began as a summer laborer, became Warehouse Supervisor, was promoted to Health and Safety in both Port Colborne and Sudbury. He was a universal donor and gave his blood to hundreds. I worked at the refinery and then at Head Office in Toronto.  We breathed the air and handled the mattes.  The PGM's are in our blood.




It may be of interest to some of my friends to describe my impressions of Huairou which hosts the APEC conference next week. However, I will refrain from commenting on either the preparations for the conference or the recent controversies concerning attendance. 

The author was familiar with Huairou for two reasons.  A colleague had lived there in the past.  Secondly, nearby, there was a restored section of the Great Wall.  The author has visited this site on several occasions.  At that time, Huairou was called a village.

It is still called a village by the local inhabitants, but it has every characteristic of a modern city.  For example, the local hospital opened within the last year. It lacks nothing in terms of knowledgeable experts and modern equipment.  The author visited the hospital during his one week stay in the village at the time of the National Day celebrations at the beginning of October; but, he was not a patient himself.

The people of Huairou are very friendly.  The best place to meet new friends is at one of the local parks.  At the break of dawn people are exercising, practicing Qi Gong and playing ping pong.  Later, a walk through the park is a common practice.  At night, the dances take place.  I counted five separate group dances each of which appealed to a specific taste. 

It is a village whose backbone is the movie industry. It may also be the reason why a special kind of neon street lighting is prevalent. These lights are programmed to vary according to set patterns. They convey a sense of surrealism to the atmosphere. However, what seems to be more surrealistic to the author is that the lights are turned out at around 10 pm.  It is totally dark in this village and few people venture out for a walk. 

I’m sure that you have all heard of ghost cities in China.  However, for the first time I became aware of ghost companies. These companies look like the genuine article from the outside. However, if one looks closer they are empty with no activity. They are seemingly purposeless. In one sense, they almost appear as movie sets except for the fact that they are overgrown with underbrush, have locked gates and old newspapers plastering the windows.  

Indian Democracy