Asbestos in Ontario
A buddy of mine is a station manager for a large American media organization. In order to protect his privacy, and we all know how sacred and important a concept that is to the media, I am going to change the names here to, as Perry Mason says, to protect the innocent.
My buddies name is Jason Blare and he works for Truthweek, a prominent and respected journal. Blare’s work appears mainly in Truthweek, but his researched material has appeared pretty well every where else because the main stream media are very competitive. Jason started off pursuing a degree in engineering, but found that the work was too hard, so he went into journalism. Jason got a job in school with a local paper called The Pennypincher, a Trotskyite inspired concept which attempts to destroy capitalism by bringing buyer and seller together without the malignant intervention of a middleman. Jason transcribed informative anecdotes. His outstanding work came to the attention of Roderick Augustus Blare III, his uncle, who is the Toronto area satrap for Truthweek. After only nine years at the Pennypincher, Jason had won his spurs in as a news hound! Jason applied his honed talents for the mighty Truthweek organization.
Jason has been sitting on several earth shaking stories that would topple governments, but has not unleashed them as he feels it would be unfair, but he has agree to share the details of this story with me in order to disprove, once and for all, hurtful allegations made by mean people that the main stream media is biased.
The story starts at a Grateful Dead concert Jason was attending. There, he met Moose who told him about the horrible suppressed facts about the Asbestos mines of Orton, Ontario. Moose is an impeccable source of information. He shares common experiences with Jason … both went to the same university to study engineering. Where Jason went on to a career in journalism, Moose pursued writing at one of Toronto’s outstanding underground literary organizations: Amazing Fantasy Comics. Intrigued by what Moose had to say about the Asbestos Mines, Jason kept in touch. Moose followed the Grateful Dead around for a year, attending concerts and doing inner work, but finally came back to his beloved bean-bag chair and black-light office space at Amazing.
Back in Toronto, Moose provided Jason with documents, tape recordings, and computer files (1) that prove everything I am about to tell you. Jason, during the writing of this story, had several meetings with his three fact-checkers (2) and his editor (3) to assure the public that everything Truthweek says is truth.
Now, the chilling story …
Moose met up with Captain Scarlet, a security guard at the Asbestos mine complex located in Orton, Ontario (4). Captain Scarlet told Moose a chilling story about the horrible things that happen there.
The mine employs some ten thousand workers, supported by a thousand administration staff and two thousand security guards. It is not hard to spot the mine site, as it is surrounded by a double twenty foot high fence topped with razor wire and spaced machine gun and search light equipped security towers. The mine itself is capped with a twenty meter thick reinforced concrete containment dome, called the goose egg, which acts to keep the billowing clouds of asbestos dust inside the industrial site. A high capacity rail line connects the mill to the hungry American market. Orton supplies around forty percent of the world’s asbestos, and most of the fluffy fibers of death go straight to the United States. Attached to the mine is a mill, which processes the asbestos into product, and a nuclear power plant. There is a state of the art air purification plant which keeps the outside workers (who are heteronormative white people) safe from the toxic asbestos. Inside the plant and deep in the mines are where the immigrants, aboriginals, ethnic peoples, prison laborers, and other gendered peoples work for sub-standard wages in an unsafe work place.
Captain Scarlet tells Moose that his boss, Colonel White, signs between eighty to a hundred and twenty death certificates a week. Most die in horrible industrial accidents … those are the lucky ones. The rest die a slow lingering death from asbestos. The mine and mill is completely monitored by cameras, and any given part of the complex can be flooded with water by remote control. Colonel White claims that the flooding system was designed to fight fires in the underground complex, but it works just fine for crowd control. He calls it, ‘giving them a dip’ and has an evil laugh. The security troops and the administration workers, called the normals by Colonel White, refuse to go into the clouds of asbestos dust unless they are in environment suits. So it saves money for the greedy shareholders to just flood a section. Workers are cheap.
Orton Asbestos hires extensively from employment agencies and from advertisements in the Toronto Star. Since none of their workers has ever come back from the mine, nobody is the wiser. After the workers are through the steel blast gate, their hope for a normal life in Toronto is gone forever. They will never see sunlight again.
Workers live in squalid conditions, sleeping on plywood racks and eating greasy fast foods. There are no day care facilities or vegetarian buffets. Everyone is a number in Orton. Workers are constantly ordered around by loudspeaker, security cameras follow every movement. Workers carry a bedpan around with them for their wastes. Doors are all steel, and can be electrified for a painful shock up to a lethal electrocution at the whim of the master sadist, Colonel White. Health care is pitiful, there are no modern medical facilities, and there are long wait times for a health care provider. This is not the Canadian way.
Work is long and hard and dangerous. Shifts are twelve hours on, twelve hours off, every day of the week. If they are not crushed or mangled in the first few weeks, a worker can learn to survive in the gloomy dust of the mines. But then the asbestos gets them. The call it the cough. The skin gets white and clammy, dark circles form around the eyes. The victim becomes acts depressed and uses bad poetry to mope about the hopelessness of life. Towards the end, the victim only wears black. Then they start to foam at the mouth and scratch at air vents and babble about coffins and death. Asbestos has done its work, claiming another victim.
Notes
(1) Moose has not actually sent any of the materials to Jason yet. He has promised to send them, and Jason has tape-recorded Moose reading from the documents during his calls from his work space at Amazing. Jason has left a post-it on fact-checker ShakaZulu’s desk about it, and if it was important, ShakaZulu would have gotten back to him about it.
(2) There are three levels of fact checking at Truthweek. The first fact checker is Annette, a bright intern hired under Truthweek’s aggressive employment equity policies, Annette suffers from a mild case of Down’s Syndrome and from a major case of oppression. By giving Annette a high paying, responsible position, Truthweek is doing what it can, as a responsible corporate citizen, to right past wrongs and embrace diversity. Jason’s second fact checker is ShakaZulu. Although ShakaZulu has been at the office for three years now, Jason has never actually met him. Jason has left drafts in his in-tray in his office. They just sit there for days, until Jason needs them back. And since ShakaZulu has not actually written any critique in the pages, they must be ok. The third fact checker is Helga, Jason’s aunt. Helga came to Truthweek soon after she started dating Roderick, the editor and Jason’s uncle. There is no nepotism here. Roderick explained it all to Jason at a family dinner: Helga’s bias towards Jason as her nephew is negated by her bias towards Roderick as her husband. Besides, Helga is not a blood relative Jason. And, a respected institution like Truthweek does not allow nepotism, so if it was nepotism, they would not allow it, but they do allow it, so it cannot be nepotism. Helga’s specialty is spelling, and she swears by the advanced features of her computers spell-check software.
(3) Jason’s editor is Roderick Augustus Blare III, his uncle. The Blare family trust has extensive holdings of Truthweek stock, which shows that they have a nose for news built right into their genetic structure. Roderick went to university to be an art historian, but later decided upon journalism when he became editor of the Toronto branch of Truthweek in his second year of school. Sadly, Roderick, owing to the heavy burden of being editor, left school soon thereafter and had to take an extensive trip to Europe to recover. He sacrifices himself for his job, traveling for Truthweek for six months a year looking for good stories. His latest work includes pieces on the Effect of the Hockey Strike on the Caribbean Economy and before that, Concerns about Tsunami on the Sport Salmon Fishing Industry of New Brunswick.
(4) Orton, Ontario is a small town located some thirty five miles north west of Toronto in an unspeakably desolate part of the province. Jason was unable to find it on the Sunday afternoon when he went looking for it. He seems to have taken a wrong turn and ended up in Hillsburgh during the notorious Potatofest. He has left a memo for ShakaZulu to verify the facts by traveling to Orton, but ShakaZulu has not yet replied, which probably means everything is true.
I, Fenris, wrote this
My buddies name is Jason Blare and he works for Truthweek, a prominent and respected journal. Blare’s work appears mainly in Truthweek, but his researched material has appeared pretty well every where else because the main stream media are very competitive. Jason started off pursuing a degree in engineering, but found that the work was too hard, so he went into journalism. Jason got a job in school with a local paper called The Pennypincher, a Trotskyite inspired concept which attempts to destroy capitalism by bringing buyer and seller together without the malignant intervention of a middleman. Jason transcribed informative anecdotes. His outstanding work came to the attention of Roderick Augustus Blare III, his uncle, who is the Toronto area satrap for Truthweek. After only nine years at the Pennypincher, Jason had won his spurs in as a news hound! Jason applied his honed talents for the mighty Truthweek organization.
Jason has been sitting on several earth shaking stories that would topple governments, but has not unleashed them as he feels it would be unfair, but he has agree to share the details of this story with me in order to disprove, once and for all, hurtful allegations made by mean people that the main stream media is biased.
The story starts at a Grateful Dead concert Jason was attending. There, he met Moose who told him about the horrible suppressed facts about the Asbestos mines of Orton, Ontario. Moose is an impeccable source of information. He shares common experiences with Jason … both went to the same university to study engineering. Where Jason went on to a career in journalism, Moose pursued writing at one of Toronto’s outstanding underground literary organizations: Amazing Fantasy Comics. Intrigued by what Moose had to say about the Asbestos Mines, Jason kept in touch. Moose followed the Grateful Dead around for a year, attending concerts and doing inner work, but finally came back to his beloved bean-bag chair and black-light office space at Amazing.
Back in Toronto, Moose provided Jason with documents, tape recordings, and computer files (1) that prove everything I am about to tell you. Jason, during the writing of this story, had several meetings with his three fact-checkers (2) and his editor (3) to assure the public that everything Truthweek says is truth.
Now, the chilling story …
Moose met up with Captain Scarlet, a security guard at the Asbestos mine complex located in Orton, Ontario (4). Captain Scarlet told Moose a chilling story about the horrible things that happen there.
The mine employs some ten thousand workers, supported by a thousand administration staff and two thousand security guards. It is not hard to spot the mine site, as it is surrounded by a double twenty foot high fence topped with razor wire and spaced machine gun and search light equipped security towers. The mine itself is capped with a twenty meter thick reinforced concrete containment dome, called the goose egg, which acts to keep the billowing clouds of asbestos dust inside the industrial site. A high capacity rail line connects the mill to the hungry American market. Orton supplies around forty percent of the world’s asbestos, and most of the fluffy fibers of death go straight to the United States. Attached to the mine is a mill, which processes the asbestos into product, and a nuclear power plant. There is a state of the art air purification plant which keeps the outside workers (who are heteronormative white people) safe from the toxic asbestos. Inside the plant and deep in the mines are where the immigrants, aboriginals, ethnic peoples, prison laborers, and other gendered peoples work for sub-standard wages in an unsafe work place.
Captain Scarlet tells Moose that his boss, Colonel White, signs between eighty to a hundred and twenty death certificates a week. Most die in horrible industrial accidents … those are the lucky ones. The rest die a slow lingering death from asbestos. The mine and mill is completely monitored by cameras, and any given part of the complex can be flooded with water by remote control. Colonel White claims that the flooding system was designed to fight fires in the underground complex, but it works just fine for crowd control. He calls it, ‘giving them a dip’ and has an evil laugh. The security troops and the administration workers, called the normals by Colonel White, refuse to go into the clouds of asbestos dust unless they are in environment suits. So it saves money for the greedy shareholders to just flood a section. Workers are cheap.
Orton Asbestos hires extensively from employment agencies and from advertisements in the Toronto Star. Since none of their workers has ever come back from the mine, nobody is the wiser. After the workers are through the steel blast gate, their hope for a normal life in Toronto is gone forever. They will never see sunlight again.
Workers live in squalid conditions, sleeping on plywood racks and eating greasy fast foods. There are no day care facilities or vegetarian buffets. Everyone is a number in Orton. Workers are constantly ordered around by loudspeaker, security cameras follow every movement. Workers carry a bedpan around with them for their wastes. Doors are all steel, and can be electrified for a painful shock up to a lethal electrocution at the whim of the master sadist, Colonel White. Health care is pitiful, there are no modern medical facilities, and there are long wait times for a health care provider. This is not the Canadian way.
Work is long and hard and dangerous. Shifts are twelve hours on, twelve hours off, every day of the week. If they are not crushed or mangled in the first few weeks, a worker can learn to survive in the gloomy dust of the mines. But then the asbestos gets them. The call it the cough. The skin gets white and clammy, dark circles form around the eyes. The victim becomes acts depressed and uses bad poetry to mope about the hopelessness of life. Towards the end, the victim only wears black. Then they start to foam at the mouth and scratch at air vents and babble about coffins and death. Asbestos has done its work, claiming another victim.
Notes
(1) Moose has not actually sent any of the materials to Jason yet. He has promised to send them, and Jason has tape-recorded Moose reading from the documents during his calls from his work space at Amazing. Jason has left a post-it on fact-checker ShakaZulu’s desk about it, and if it was important, ShakaZulu would have gotten back to him about it.
(2) There are three levels of fact checking at Truthweek. The first fact checker is Annette, a bright intern hired under Truthweek’s aggressive employment equity policies, Annette suffers from a mild case of Down’s Syndrome and from a major case of oppression. By giving Annette a high paying, responsible position, Truthweek is doing what it can, as a responsible corporate citizen, to right past wrongs and embrace diversity. Jason’s second fact checker is ShakaZulu. Although ShakaZulu has been at the office for three years now, Jason has never actually met him. Jason has left drafts in his in-tray in his office. They just sit there for days, until Jason needs them back. And since ShakaZulu has not actually written any critique in the pages, they must be ok. The third fact checker is Helga, Jason’s aunt. Helga came to Truthweek soon after she started dating Roderick, the editor and Jason’s uncle. There is no nepotism here. Roderick explained it all to Jason at a family dinner: Helga’s bias towards Jason as her nephew is negated by her bias towards Roderick as her husband. Besides, Helga is not a blood relative Jason. And, a respected institution like Truthweek does not allow nepotism, so if it was nepotism, they would not allow it, but they do allow it, so it cannot be nepotism. Helga’s specialty is spelling, and she swears by the advanced features of her computers spell-check software.
(3) Jason’s editor is Roderick Augustus Blare III, his uncle. The Blare family trust has extensive holdings of Truthweek stock, which shows that they have a nose for news built right into their genetic structure. Roderick went to university to be an art historian, but later decided upon journalism when he became editor of the Toronto branch of Truthweek in his second year of school. Sadly, Roderick, owing to the heavy burden of being editor, left school soon thereafter and had to take an extensive trip to Europe to recover. He sacrifices himself for his job, traveling for Truthweek for six months a year looking for good stories. His latest work includes pieces on the Effect of the Hockey Strike on the Caribbean Economy and before that, Concerns about Tsunami on the Sport Salmon Fishing Industry of New Brunswick.
(4) Orton, Ontario is a small town located some thirty five miles north west of Toronto in an unspeakably desolate part of the province. Jason was unable to find it on the Sunday afternoon when he went looking for it. He seems to have taken a wrong turn and ended up in Hillsburgh during the notorious Potatofest. He has left a memo for ShakaZulu to verify the facts by traveling to Orton, but ShakaZulu has not yet replied, which probably means everything is true.
I, Fenris, wrote this
posted by The Mayor at 11:41 AM
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