From Cato Institute

An Absence of Tobacco Evidence. By Patrick Basham, Cato Institute. The government knew that this claim, and the evidence that it was based on, was not true. Recently released DoH correspondence shows that the government was told in a March 2009 email that removing tobacco displays in Canada 'has not caused a decline in tobacco sales or discourage[ed] kids from smoking'. Yet, the anti-tobacco lobby continues to push for even more far-reaching tobacco control legislation. This past week, Action on Smoking & Health (Ash) trumpeted a new study about the influence of tobacco packages as proof that putting all tobacco products in plain packages was now required. Ash's Deborah Arnott told the BBC that: "This research shows that the only way of putting an end to this misleading marketing is to require all tobacco products to be sold in plain packaging." What Arnott did not tell the BBC was that she and Martin Dockrell, Ash's campaign manager, were not only two of the authors of the very study they so fulsomely praised, but Ash, along with the DoH, paid for the study.

Suffer :-)

So you have no comment about my smoker advocacy? Comment on my wonderful eco poetry then hehe

Joy Faulkner

SHUTTLE TO MOTHER-SHIP
There’s a hole in the sky
Letting death rays in
The rain comes down
And burns the skin
Another forest fall
Losing oxygen, hard to breathe
And the fat cat sits
In a tall glass tower
Counting his money
Hour after hour

A black slick on
The ocean boils
Dumping ground for human soils
Raped by drift net, void of life
Another food chain lost
Losing sustenance, hard to feed
And the fat cat sits
In a tall glass tower
Counting his money
Hour after hour

Paranoia spreads over the land
People see others through eyes of fear
Minds poisoned by chemicals
Science baffled by new disease
Humanity buckling at the knees
Trying to breed through rubber sheathes
And the fat cat sits
In a tall glass tower
Counting his money
Hour after hour

The shuttle flew low across the sky
“Shuttle commander to mother-ship
Permission to leave this dying planet
Not even worth the time to burn it.
There only appears to be
One lower life form left at all
A fat cat sits in a large glass bowl
With bulging cheeks, and saucer eyes
Surrounded by piles of useless paper
Hardly worth turning to vapour.”
By Joy Faulkner

GENERATIONS PAST

Make love, not war, a rebel yell
Woodstock, it rose and then it fell
The birthplace of a hope for peace
A search for truth that will not cease
But dreams of youth are fleeting things
Were they not puppets pulled by strings

Where are the children of that hour
With their hippie beads and their flower power
Youthful arms stretched out in quite rage
Aimed at those of a different age
Woodstock, was it all a lie, just another name
Is the word generation not to blame

Woodstock, a generation of the past
The future catches up so fast
Establishment, to be mistrusted, a dirty word
But wait, after all these years, it seems absurd
Look around, who pulls the strings? They now reign
Have you felt the peace and love or just more pain

Have you heard the cry of youth today
Listen close, you may hear them say
Woodstock never really went away, just a name
Generation is the thing to blame, it will always be the same
So act your age, put on that tie and collar
Your turn has come to chase the almighty dollar

By Joy Faulkner

GOODBYE JOE
You came in a dream
Unraveled as in a fable
Silk, created from a sows ear
True beauty in the beast
In the eye of the beholder
The stuff legends are made of

For dreamers weave fables
Breathe life into legends
Pay the price for the blessing
For legends can’t die

Out on a hill where ghostly
Crowds linger still, laid to waste
In memory of past glory
Forgotton by fickle masses
Trapped in a world of lost embraces
Left to wander, down unknown streets
Where tomorrows legends are found

For dreamers weave fables
Breathe life in to legends
Pay the price for the blessing
For legends can’t die

Row upon row of poppies
Blowing in the wind of adulation
Don’t be fooled by their beauty
Lurking within they are waiting
Fanned by cool breezes, lay hidden diseases
Their heads bent and broken, sweet nectar run dry
Seeds of a new legend reach for the sky

For dreamers weave fables
Breathe life into legends
Pay the price for the blessing
For legends can’t die

You came in a dream
Plucked up in eagles talon, screeching
Turned to bloodcurdling nightmare
Suffocating in a sea of greenbacks
Lay waste in the wake of glorious talent
For the prison of a cold cement palace
Wave the legend goodbye By Joy Faulkner
This poem is dedicated to my favourite rocker. Joe Cocker. Rock on!!!

DREAMTIME WALKABOUT

There’s a gem in the hills of Eden
A cackling call of kookaburra
The passionate sigh in timeless silence
Blinded by the thunderous beauty
Of a simple garden variety sweet pea
Visions of blissful contentment
Down the information highway
In a dreamtime walkabout

Glorious inner beauty abounds
From this wondrous soulful flower
Showering flickering bursts of light
Through technological wizardry
Joy reaches out tran-tasmanly
Tenderly it touches me
Vivid portraits of peace and tranquility
Whispering eloquently sensuality and love
The pounding heart can be heard
Down the information highway
In a dreamtime walkabout

Mechanically connected
Soul-mate to soul-mate
Long searched for sweet perfection
Kindling desire, lighting the fire
Cherished sweetheart, worthy of the wait
Transversing from dream machine
To beauteous reality
Awesome is the word that travels
Down the information highway
In a dreamtime walkabout

By Joy Faulkner