The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

4 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tues. February 19, 1985 editorial comments WOULONT THAT BE NICE! NO JUMPER CRBLEG, SALT ANTIFREEZE, SNOW. SLUSH, STUCK C.aRS, TOW BILLS, &USTY CARS ETC. . EYC &TC ---- -- ~~ Trouble rr TE ---- : 3 'In High Places The Conservative government of Brian Mulroney, barely six months old, was rocketed last week by the resignation of Defense Minister Robert Coates. Last November, Mr. Coates and two aides paid a late night visit to a strip club near Lahr, West Germany. Mr. Coates was in West Germany to tour Canadian forces bases in that country. Mr. Coates resigned in a hurry last week when news of the strip club visit was made public by an Ot- tawa newspaper. The Prime Minister in accepting the resignation, said there was no breach of security on the part of Mr. Coates, and Mr. Mulroney hinted that Mr. Coates could very well return to the Cabinet. The resignation by Mr. Coates has n hailed as the "courageous and honourable" step to take, in light of the circumstances. Mr. Mulroney said the decision by Mr. Coates to visit the strip club showed "poor judge- ment."' and the choice of the bar for a late night drink "was an error." You bet it was. While indeed the hour long visit to the bar and the fact that Mr. Coates chatted with one of the strippers, may. not have been a breach of securi- ty, the potential for immense problems for the Minister of Defense was certainly there. Not only is the Canadian Minister of Defense privy to highly sensitive information about our alliances and the military systems of our allies. If somebody was looking for a chance to blackmail a minister of defense, what better place to find him than in a strip joint. } What could he have been thinking when he walked through the doors of that place and decided to stay awhile? - However, while Mr. Coates was taking the high road in the House of Commons last week in handing in his resignation, Solicitor General Eimer McKay was brushing 'aside Opposition shouts for his head over the meeting with New Brunswick Premier Richard Hatfield. Mr. McKay as Solicitor General met with the Premier in an Ottawa hotel room last October, a time when Mr. Hatfield was under investigation by the RCMP for ~ possession of a narcotic. He of course was later charg- ed with that offense, and acquitted late last month. Mr. McKay says his meeting with the Premier was innocent. There were no favours asked and none given. Fair enough. So why the meeting? It is almost unbelievable that Mr. McKay would agree to a private meeting with Mr. Hatfield under these circumstances. The appearance of such a meeting is very damaging when one considers the quaint old no- tion of equality for all before the law. Mr. McKay's explanations about this meeting are not very satisfying, and neither is the statement last week by Justice Minister John Crosbie that the Crown will not appeal Hatfield's acquittal. Statements of this kind are not usually made until after the 30 day period for filing an appeal is over. Hatfield was acquitted January 29. Mr. McKay has some further explaining to do, or he should clip a page from Mr. Coate's book and take the honourable step in the Commons. Just as the Minister of Defense should not be visiting places like the Tiffany Club, the Solicitor General should not be holding private and secret meetings with anybody under criminal investigation. Not Right There is something not right when a minor hockey team can score 51 goals in three games while allowing the opponents to score just four. That was the situation when the Port Perry Pee Wee A's defeated an Orangeville club by scores of 16-1; 15-0 and 20-3 in a playoff series. We can't help but wonder about the playoff struc- ture when such an obvious mis-match takes place. And while losing is a part of any sport, we wonder about the 11 and 12 year olds on the losing end in this series. It must have taken a lot of fun out of the game. This is not a criticism of the Port Perry team who obviously had no choice in who their opponents would be. And we recognize that the Port Perry Pee Wees this year have a strong club. But for a team of young boys to lose by such lop- sided scores is simply not right. =a ovate oar cEaRy STAR AS chatterbox by John B. McClelland WINTER DREAMS I'm not impressed with most television advertising. A lot of it is just plain boring or an insult to the in- telligence of anyone over the age of three. But once in a while the people who crank out these ads for the small screen come up with a creative gem that really tickles my fancy. I'm referring specifically to that delightful commer- cial which depicts a typical Canadian slogging through the February snow and slush. Magically, the imagery switches from a mush-filled sidewalk to the warm sand of some tropical beach. Off come the guy's golashes and socks, and with great glee, he plunges, suit and all, into the blue surf of a paradise where the sun always shines and the only ice is in a tall glass. Anybody who watches even a moderate amount of television will have seen this particular commercial. It's very clever and really does make you want to just pick up the phone and call the travel agent for a ticket to anywhere, as long as it's south of Buffalo. Let's face it. We can all identify with that guy sloshing his way through the snow and the mush of a Canadian February who suddenly finds himself on an exotic desert isle soaking up the sun and splashing about in a pristine lagoon. You can almost feel the gentle trade winds on your face. Here it is the middle of February, and most Cana- dians are starting to get a good case of cabin fever. We have had more than six straight weeks of cold, plen- ty of snow, a couple of ice storms thrown in for good measure, cars that won't start, and monthly heating bills darn near as large as the mortgage payments. It has been, as they say, a good old-fashioned Canadian winter. And yours truly has had just about enough of it. Most years, I don't mind the winter. I figure it is part . of the inconvenience of being a Canadian. And I tell myself that winters in Port Perry are nothing compared to the Ottawa Valley, where I grew up. Now, winter in the Ottawa Valley is something to talk about. But that's another story. Anyway, about a week ago, I trudged home from - work and set about to shovel the snow from my driveway, the kids rink in, the backyard, and the sidewalk in front of the house. Must not forget the sidewalk in front of the house, especially since there is a by-law on the books stating that I am compelled to keep that walk clean, even though it belongs to Scugog Township. > No matter, I used to make an honest effort to keep it clear, anyway, just as a courtesy. So, I shovelled and shovelled and shovelled some more. After the driveway, the rink and the Township sidewalk, my back was telling me that not only had I done my civic duty, I very well could be making a trip to the chiropracter. Cold and tired, I put away the snow shovel for the night, took off the winter boots and parka and headed right for the couch in the TV room. Stretched out with a couple of cushions to prop up my aching back, I glance at the TV screen and there it is: my favourite ad. I chuckle to myself and just as the guy is plunging into the surf, I feel myself drifting off into sleep. An image flashes in front of my eyes. It's me walk- ing along Queen Street, the slush oozing up over the top of my boots. A bitter north wind drives the sleet against my face. I'm carrying a giant snow shovel and a voice is saying: "McClelland, there is snow on the sidewalk in front of your house. You must clean it immediately." "No," I cry out. "No, no, no. I've shovelled enough snow already this winter." "But you must," the voice replies with a hint of menace. "The by-law says so." I start to run and fling the giant snow shovel into a drift on the sidewalk in front of my house. This is on- ly a dream, I tell myself. "You are not dreaming," says the voice. "Shovel or else." I am running faster and faster, the snow is getting deeper. Suddenly, just like the commercial, I'm on a beach. The sun is brilliant, the sky and the water a shade of blue never seen in Canada. A gentle breeze ripples through a grove of palm trees. The parka comes off, then the scarf, gloves, toque, sweater, boots, socks as I race towards the surf. I'm laughing with joy. Suddenly, the shadow crosses my path. I stop. In front of me is a figure of a man in a huge parka, snowmobile boots, gloves to his elbows, a scarf cover- ing much of his face. He is holding up one hand. The figure speaks: '"McClelland, you are going back to Port Perry to clean that sidewalk in front of your house. You can't play in the sun and swim in the sea while there is snow and ice on your sidewalk." The voice seems vaguely familiar. I squint to get a look at the face inside the parka hood behind the heavy scarf. No, it can't be ..... "Is that you, Earl? It is you. Why are you here on the beach? You should be in Port Perry behind your desk at the Township office. You can't take me back there, Earl. Just give me a half-hour here in the sun and I promise to go back and clean my sidewalk right down to the concrete. I promise. I promise. Please, Earl?" The figure speaks. "Yes, McClelland. It is me, and I've come to take you back. You can't run away and neglect your civic duty." I won't go, Earl. You can't make me. I'm staying right here,"" my voice is shaking. (Turn to page 6)