Where Did The Rhinoceros Party Go?

I am Canadian! 

That doesn't mean I'm a lumberjack or fur trader, and there isn't a wall of snow at the USA-Canada border, nor do I use a dog-sled to get around. But I do believe that the beaver is a truly proud and noble animal and want to let you know that a toque is a hat and a chesterfield is a couch...

You see, Joe Canadian was right - any country that goes through six to eight months of winter and then battles hail storms, floods and mosquitoes for the almost-two-months that is our "summer" needs to have a silly side.

Even in our political parties.


So I confess...in one Canadian federal election I actually voted "Rhino." I mean, how can you not admire the honesty of a party that promises never to keep any of its promises?

For their satirical slant on the whole political process, The Rhinoceros Party got my vote - well, at least in 1984. In my defense, I was a university student in "La la land" and had first voted in the 1979 election. That year a young Joe Clark become Prime Minister of Canada - for all of nine months. It was a bad pregnancy at best and I became quickly jaded by federal politics. Then I discovered the Rhino's, and since they affectionately reminded me of Monty Python's Flying Circus, that sealed the deal.

Brian 'Godzilla' Salmi

With candidates like Brian "Godzilla" Salmi, Alfred the Alien, and Ted "not too" Sharp, they seemed to clearly represent the interests of the people. 


The Rhino Party was established in 1963 by Quebec author and physician, Jacques Ferron. It drew it's inspiration and name from "Cacareco," a Brazilian rhinoceros that won a landslide victory to take a seat on the Sao Paulo city council in 1958. His nomination was the result of a prank by several reporters.


The Rhino's also chose the rhinoceros as its mascot because this animal, like politicians, is thick-skinned, slow moving and dim-witted.


Candidate Bryan Gold described the party platform as "two feet high and made of wood." That seemed logical to me as did his statement, "My platform is the one I'm standing on."


Ted "not too" Sharp ran in Flora MacDonald's Ontario riding with the popular slogan, "Fauna, not Flora." He promised to give fauna equal representation. Sharp also wanted to strengthen Canada's military by towing Antarctica to the Arctic Circle. "Once we have Antarctica we'll control all of the world's cold," he said. "If another Cold War starts, we'll be unbeatable."

Among other things the Rhino's promised to;

• Repeal the law of gravity.
• Provide higher education by building taller schools.
• Tear down the Rocky Mountains so that Albertans could see the Pacific sunset.
• Abolish the environment because it's too hard to keep clean and it takes up so much space.
• End crime by abolishing all laws.
• Create the world's largest parking lot by paving the province of Manitoba.
• Make the Canadian climate more temperate by tapping into the natural resource of hot air in Ottawa.
• Store nuclear waste in the Senate. "After all, we've been storing political waste there for years."
• Legalize pot (and pans and spatulas and other kitchen utensils).
• Adopt the British system of driving on the left.
• Put the national debt on VISA.
• Offer to call off the proposed Belgium-Canada war if Belgium delivered a case of mussels and a case of Belgian beer to Rhinoceros "Hindquarters" in Montreal (I remember when the Belgian Embassy in Ottawa did, in fact, do this.)
• Ban guns and butter, since both kill.
• Ban lousy Canadian winters (like this last one).
• Build a bridge spanning the country, from Vancouver Island to Newfoundland.
• Change Canada's currency to bubble gum, so it could be inflated or deflated at will.

Although the Rhinoceros Party never succeeded in winning a seat in the House of Commons, they did win the fourth largest number of votes in the 1984 federal election (see, I was onto something). This put them ahead of several well-established minor parties. Rhino candidates sometimes came in second in certain ridings, giving long-standing Canadian parties cause for thought.

The Rhino's dropped out of the 1993 federal election when new rules forced them to run candidates in at least 50 ridings at a cost of $1000/riding. But they regrouped and got their "herd" instinct back. Just like the cat in the fabled song, the Rhino's came back as a bona fide political party in 2007.

As we head into another needless Canadian federal election, the Conservative, Liberal and NDP Parties need to keep their wits about them...but if they don't, we can count on the Rhino's  to come up with the wit that every other party missed.

The Passion

"This is the most violent film I have ever seen," said film critic Roger Ebert. Although he applauded James Caviezel's "heroic" depiction of Christ, the cinematic artistry and musical score, he concluded that this is a film "about an idea. An idea that it is necessary to fully comprehend the Passion if Christianity is to make any sense."

The Passion or 'suffering' of Christ was never more realistically portrayed than in Mel Gibson's film.

When The Passion, came out in 2004, my husband and I were invited to a sneak preview as we were involved with a newspaper that served the Calgary area churches. I remember being awed by the artistry of this film that depicts the last 12 hours of Christ's life and crying through the brutal beatings Jesus endured. There were others around me quietly weeping as well, some people flinched with every lash of the whip...of which there were many.

It's a hard film to watch, harder even to realize Gibson toned down the violence from what it really would have been.

But whatever Christ endured physically, the spiritual suffering He went through was much worse. The film opens with Christ in emotional torment. He came to the Garden of Gethsemane for solace but was literally sweating blood. He knew what was coming and He didn't want it. He prayed to the Father for a way out. This is the moment that I relate to Christ the best. I have prayed this prayer many times, wanting some other way out of my circumstances. For Jesus there was no other way. It wasn't the physical suffering that bothered Him, it was the fact that He, the only man in history without sin, would take on all of our failings, past, present and future. This would wreck the closest relationship He had - that with His Father.

"I want to show the humanity of Christ as well as the divine aspect," Mel Gibson said about this film. "It's a rendering that for me is very realistic and as close as possible to what I perceive the truth to be."

It's amazing that such a flawed man as Gibson, portrayed the most accurate, emotionally gripping account of Christ's death, that the world has ever seen (a point debated by the critics). It's interesting that Gibson had his own hand filmed, as the one pounding the nails through Christ's palm, on the cross.

When Mel Gibson asked Jim Caviezel to play the part of Jesus Christ in this film Caviezel told him, "It is eerie, my initials are J.C. and I'm 33 years old."

Once Caviezel accepted, Gibson did everything in his power to dissuade him from taking on this role. He even told him, he might never work as an actor again.

Caviezel responded, "Mel, this is what I believe. We all have a cross to carry. I have to carry my own cross. If we don't carry our crosses, we are going to be crushed under the weight of it. So let's go and do it."

Caviezel explained that during filming his make-up time started at 2 am and went until 10 am. He struggled with a separated shoulder, he was hit by lightening (and survived) as well, during the days he hung on the cross he developed hypothermia.

"It was so cold it was like knives coming through me," Caviezel explained. "On one day of hypothermia I was so cold I could barely get the lines out. My mouth was shaking uncontrollably. My arms and legs went numb. I was suffocating on that cross. In the mean time, you watch people have coffee and laugh. They were very indifferent about what I was going through...there are things that I went through that I can't even talk about. I felt like a great presence came within me at times when we were filming. This prayer that came from me was, 'I don't want people to see me. I just want them to see Jesus."

On the set, one of the Muslim actors portraying a guard who beat Christ became a believer, Caviezel said. Apparently many people had this same experience watching the film in theatres, churches or at home.

The moment that made the most impact on me was a very high camera shot from above Christ as He hung on the cross. The first time I saw this shot and watched the image blur, I didn't understand what was happening. Then "I" became a tear that shot down out of the highest heavens and landed at the foot of the cross causing an earthquake. Immediately I knew it was God crying over the suffering of His Son. I was moved to tears.

As believers, we often wear the cross as a symbol around our necks, tattooed on our body or hung in our car. We sing about it without understanding what it means. We are so far removed from the actual time period this happened, we have no idea of the true ordeal Christ went through.

In this film, as I watched Mary wipe her son's blood from the spattered courtyard, and saw red rivets of blood spurt out of His palms as the nails were hammered in, I realized that every drop of His blood had and continues to have a purpose. It gives us an opportunity to have an intimate relationship with God. It's an opportunity I had accepted decades ago, but I never comprehended the cost.

"There's no question that I believe," Caviezel said. "What I wanted more than anything, was that people would have a visceral effect to finally make a decision whether to follow Him or not."

This film did that. It changed my view of Christ's sacrifice and changed me, forever...

The Proposal

It was April 15, 1990. Easter Sunday! I had brought my boyfriend, Peter Fleck, home to Abbotsford to visit my family. He had made a good impression on my Mom and Dad many months ago.

But Peter had only met my father once before my Dad died. Though I was delighted Peter and my father hit it off, I was sad that they never really got to know each other. I was my daddy's girl and I had looked forward to having him walk me down the aisle. But at my father's funeral, in November 1989, my great uncle Abe told me he would be happy to fill that role. He was the dearly loved patriarch of our family and I adored him. He knew I was in love and expected Peter to propose.

In fact, everyone was expecting Peter to propose. I'd been expecting him to 'pop the question' for quite some time and, at 29, I wasn't getting any younger. Peter and I started 'dating' in September, 1989, but we never went on normal 'dates.' We didn't go to movies or out for dinner (although Peter 'ate out' every night at my basement suite). We didn't even spend much time with others  ─ we were so besotted with each other, we just wanted to be together. Within a few weeks of 'going out,' (or staying in), we knew that our budding relationship was serious. It wasn't just about fun and friendship, it was speeding towards marriage.

Considering how fast things started, I thought Peter might propose on my birthday in January or on Valentine's Day or maybe sometime...ANYTIME in March. But here we were in the middle of April and I had nothing. I knew Peter was careful and liked to move slowly, but this bordered on ridiculous. I began to despair of a proposal ever coming.

I had even gone to great lengths to set up the perfect opportunity for Peter. The day before, we had driven into Vancouver and wandered around Stanley Park. It was one of my favorite haunts from my university days. With the sun beating down on us and flowers sprouting in full bloom, spring was in the air. There were even different species of birds going through their mating rituals all around us and I figured Peter might get the hint...

But as we stood for the final hymn at the Easter Sunday service the next day, I had given up. Peter seemed distracted and tired. All I wanted to do was help my mother with lunch and spend some time outside soaking up the sun.

After lunch, I changed into shorts and lay down on a deck chair. Peter came into the backyard quite excited. He said he had hidden some Easter baskets in the house for me and my mom, and wondered if we could search for them...now.

I opened one eye and glared at him. "Maybe later," I muttered.

Peter looked crestfallen. He stumbled around with his words, saying it would be great if I we could hunt for them now, then I could suntan all I wanted later. I sighed and went inside to find my mom and tell her we needed to go on an Easter basket hunt. She seemed delighted, so I headed downstairs to start in the basement and work my way up.

It didn't take me long to find the basket. Peter had included a number of interesting items from 10,000 Villages, one of our favorite stores. As I dug through the basket I found a tiny envelope bearing my name and a RED bow. Peter had already heard my whole philosophy on RED ─ how that word had much meaning for me. Inside was an even smaller card with a beaver on it. Peter was a proud Canadian!

In the envelope was a lengthy hand-written note with two well-worn gold rings. I later learned these were the wedding bands his grandparents wore. I should have taken the hint right away, but after having waited for so long, I needed to see what he had said...

"These two rings are family heirlooms - fashioned and created out of love.
     Behind the glittering gold exteriors,
     Are many tales of trial and triumph.
Their circular form speaks a great mystery, complete ─ yet with no apparent beginning or end.
     Such is the nature of God Himself,
     Eternally existent in future and past.
Difficult to comprehend? But no less real than the rings themselves.
     Is love any easier to understand?
     Tangible, yet so very intangible.
So it also is ─ with a woman named Doris and a man named Peter.
     Lives once seemingly distinct and separate,
     Have become inextricably intertwined.
Therefore the time has come to formally band together what has already begun.
     Like our historic circles of Gold,

     They must be moulded together as one.
A gleaming diamond is then placed on top, polished with expectation, hope and purpose.
     Let us venture into the future.
     Two intertwining circles of love.
Forever...
More..."

Okay, so do you see the phrase, "Will you marry me?" anywhere in there? Neither did I! Peter was always unconventional. While I was reading his proposal over, I could hear my Mom calling from the upstairs, "I found mine!" I was totally oblivious to her and looked up at Peter who had so much expectation in his face, eagerly awaiting my response.

I read through the proposal again, fingering the rings. Finally I reached up and hugged him.

"Well?" he enthusiastically asked.
"Yes!" I replied.

By then my mother found us downstairs and when she saw the rings and our expressions, she burst into tears. Then appropriately exclaimed, "I've been saving up for the wedding since November!"

I later learned that Peter had stayed up most of the night preparing our beautiful Easter baskets and writing out the proposal. He is a gifted writer after all...I was the one who should have expected this. Before Peter left with me on this trip, he told his parents he was planning to propose and they gave him their hearty approval. Even they had been waiting for him to 'get on with it.'

I've asked Peter what would have happened if my Mom had found my basket and opened The Proposal by mistake. He said that he'd be a widower now, and it certainly would have sent shock waves through my family at the time :)

Though I still tease Peter, that he never really asked me to marry him, it was a proposal I will never forget. I never got my sun-tanning in though. Mom made me change back into my Sunday best and took photos of me and my fiancé (I finally was able to use THAT word), under her flowering cherry tree.

This was just the beginning...

Sense or Censorship - Today's Banned Books.

Some books change your life forever. To Kill a Mockingbird transformed mine. It woke me up to the issue of racial inequality, something that hadn't been a part of my world until then.

I felt an instant kinship with the two children at the heart of the novel, six-year-old Scout and her older brother Jem. Set in the state of Alabama during the 1930s, their innocence is slowly dismantled as their father, Atticus Finch, takes on the legal challenge of defending an African American against a charge of rape. Such a case had never been won at that time. 

The accused, Tom Robinson, is innocent as much in character as in the crime and both children become outraged when the overwhelming evidence proving his innocence is ignored.

This Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Harper Lee was required reading for my Grade 10 English class. Our teacher paired it with a showing of the Oscar-winning film. Gregory Peck embodied the heart and soul of Atticus Finch and Mary Badham portrayed the curiosity and attitude of six-year-old Scout exactly as I had imagined it.


Written with warmth and humor, To Kill a Mockingbird emphasizes courage, tolerance and decries prejudice. So it was with surprise that I found out this novel had a long history of being banned in many schools across North America.

In 2002, Brian Bauld wrote, "I have been teaching English to Nova Scotian students from Grade 7 to Grade 12 for 28 years. Without doubt, the book that has gained the most favour with my students has been To Kill a Mockingbird. From the thousands of students who have had the privilege to read Harper Lee's one-book-wonder, I would be hard pressed to think of any but the most obtuse and inane who could interpret it as racist."


For myself and many others, the words obtuse and inane best describe those that have implemented the ban of this book.

In 2001, the City Library of Chicago began a program designed to encourage literacy. Endorsed by mayor Richard Daley and city officials, the One Book, One Chicago initiative picked To Kill a Mockingbird as its first book for the entire city to read. By the way, Chicago has a robust black population. How anyone could think that this book hurts African Americans is beyond comprehension.

"That this book is still being taught, despite ongoing resistance, is a credit to those principals and teachers who have placed quality above quackery," Bauld aptly states. "My experience is that students are drawn naturally to stories of justice, mercy, fairness, selflessness and honour, especially when handled by great artists."


There have been numerous "classics" banned through the ages; Lord of the Flies, Catcher in the Rye, Brave New World, 1984, Ulysses and ironically Fahrenheit 451, a novel that reveals a future culture where books are banned and burned.

Even the Bible has been banned.

But I was surprised to learn that Mark Twain's great American novel, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, has not just been banned but is actually undergoing editing changes. NewSouth Books plans to release a version of this classic with the "n" word (nigger) taken out (used 219 times) and replaced with "slave." They will also remove the word "injun," a colloquial reference to Native Americans.


It's important to remember that in using these words, Twain, like Harper Lee, was critiquing racism not endorsing it.

One can only imagine what Twain himself would say about this edit of Huck Finn. Known for his acerbic wit and speaking his mind, one of Twain's famous quotes, "I have never let my schooling interfere with my education," could well be used in this instance.


A few years ago, I was writing a feature article on modern cowboys for a national magazine. I added some historical context to the piece and wrote about my favorite childhood game, "Cowboys and Indians." The editor said this phrase was not politically correct and could hurt a whole people group. It would have to be changed to read "Cowboys and First Nations people." Well, I had NEVER played cowboys and First Nations people, and when I pointed out it was not meant to be derogatory but merely historically representative, she refused to budge. That section was edited out.

Peter Messent, author of The Cambridge Introduction to Mark Twain is very critical of editing this American classic. He writes, "As Twain himself said, 'The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter - it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.' 


"I respect the motivation of Alan Gribben, the senior Twain scholar who is responsible for the new edition, and who wishes to bring the book back into easy classroom use, believing 'that a significant number of school teachers, college instructors and general readers will welcome the option of an edition of Twain's...novels that spares the reader from a racial slur that never seems to lose its vitriol.'

"But it's exactly that vitriol and its unacceptable nature that Twain intended to capture in the book as it stands. Perhaps this is not a book for younger readers. Perhaps it is a book that needs careful handling by teachers at high school and even university level as they put it in its larger discursive context, explain how the irony works, and the enormous harm that racist language can do. But to tamper with the author's words because of the sensibilities of present-day readers is unacceptable. The minute you do this, the minute this stops being the book that Twain wrote."

Do you feel books like To Kill a Mockingbird and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn should be banned or edited to remove inflammatory words - like nigger?

Have we become so overly sensitive to some terms that we cannot judge their context in classic literature?


Any English instructors out there? Do you take these edits as a slight to your teaching capabilities - that you may not be able to present the discursive context in a way your students would comprehend? Would you rather teach an edited version of these novels?

Prescription Drug Addiction

Secret confession time - I'm a Mennonite girl. That doesn't mean quite the same thing now as it did in my mother's day. I remember her telling me that when she was 16 and became a member of her church she had to stand up in front of the whole congregation and promise to never drink, dance, swear or marry anyone other than a Mennonite Brethren guy.


Notice there was no mention of drug use. That's because for any MB teen growing up in the 30s or 40s this was so "verboten" it wouldn't even be considered a temptation. Drugs had not attained any level of popularity yet.


Then there was me. I was a child of the 60s. I didn't care for alcohol and never got drunk, although the one time I consumed eight glasses of wine at a university Christmas Banquet, I had the best sleep of my entire life. I woke up the next morning feeling fabulous! 


My parents frowned on dancing so my moves could definitely use improvement. As for swearing - to hell with it, I never abuse language... I certainly didn't marry an MB guy either, although my parents and most importantly my Great Uncle Abe, all approved of Peter.

For me, drugs were the most tempting. Although I grew up in Abbotsford, the Bible Belt of B.C., with a church on every block in some areas - I went to the toughest junior high. There were drug raids every week and I knew all the dealers. I remember the day one girl, high on acid, jumped off the top of the stairwell and was hurt. When I told my mom that story, she asked me if I did drugs. It was the first and last time she would ever ask that question.


You see, I was a serious academic and athlete, bound for university, I didn't want anything messing with my mind or body. But I was totally unprepared for the rampant temptations that happened when I was living in the dorms on the UBC campus. Almost everyone did drugs including students in engineering, medicine and other demanding fields of study.


By my third year, a close "guy friend" offered to provide me with pot, acid, mushrooms and a lot more plus cover my costs for an entire year if I would just join him in his experimentation. I considered this offer for some time but eventually turned it down. It is a decision I have never regretted. Especially as I watched this talented guy - a gifted musician, artist, writer and film-maker - skip classes, lose his creative drive and eventually drop out. He died at age 25.

For me it was that exact age when everything changed. In previous blogs I have mentioned that I went from being an enthusiastic, highly motivated student - completing my second degree, working two jobs and being involved in the Vancouver film industry - to being bedridden in a matter of days.


I went from having no problem sleeping eight hours a night to rampant insomnia. Panic attacks, a feeling of partial paralysis in my limbs and extreme sensitivities to light and sound landed me in the hospital numerous times. During the next six years I visited over 40 doctors, specialists, naturopaths and allergists as well as a psychiatrist. I was given a plethora of prescription and naturopathic remedies.


My father's policy had always been to flush prescription drugs down the toilet unless the doctor deemed them essential to life. And I did just that after one doctor gave me some Ativan samples to help with my panic attacks.


By the time all other diseases had been eliminated and I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), it was almost six years later and I was a mess. I was in my first year of marriage and six months of that time had been spent apart from my new husband, with people who took care of me 24 hours a day. I needed to be fed and bathed in bed and required assistance to get to the washroom. Peter had tried to do all that, as well as the cleaning, the cooking, the care and work a demanding job. He almost killed himself before he realized it was just too much for him.


I did slowly improve and over the last 20 years I've found one of the few doctors in Canada who specializes in treating CFS and Fibromyalgia. She recommends a combination of prescription drugs and wholistic treatment that helps me sleep, enables me to work and even allows me a bit of a social life.

I have been taking two prescription drugs, on and off, for over 15 years. One of them is addictive. I thought I had been managing the drugs well, but I had a harsh wake-up call a few weeks ago.

I went to get a refill and my pharmacist told me I was over 40 days early. I had been using twice as much of the addicting Ativan than my doctor wanted me to.


Peter often complains that I turn to drugs as a first resort when I am stressed, not sleeping well or having mild CFS symptoms. He is right. In the last two weeks I have been coming to grips with the fact that I am a prescription drug addict. Mind you, many people take a much higher dose of these two drugs than I do - but my mind wants them, my body craves them and I dream about them far too much. I bring them with me everywhere and can go into full panic mode if I forget them.

I was in real trouble. Ativan is a fast-acting psychotropic benzodiazepine that I was supposed to use if I had serious heart palpitations or couldn't get good sleep. 
It was tough to realize I was no longer able to monitor my own medication. I gave the drug to Peter with strict instructions to only give me one pill a day. This has been more of a challenge than I realized but I feel better with less of the drug in my system.


Prescription drug use and abuse has been skyrocketing in North America. 

What's even more interesting is that illicit drug use among teens aged 13-18 has dropped significantly in the last decade but prescription drug use has been rising. 


There is the false perception that prescription drugs are safer than illegal drugs. 


A recent study done by the University of Michigan showed that by the 12th grade 8% of students had tried Oxycontin and 10% had tried Vicodin. 

Any HOUSE fans out there? Even though I love Dr. Gregory House, and his biting wit, his much-watched abuse of Vicodin and subsequent treatment for addiction was far too romanticized. It may have spawned a whole new generation of prescription drug addicts.


I am determined to NOT become a drug abuse statistic. Has drug use ever tempted you? Have you ever battled to control your prescription drugs? What helped you the most?

Rainy Day Friends and The Atomic Samurai

I have been seriously stressed this week. With a number of friends going through personal crisis, others dealing with health issues and then my aging dog to take care of, there were times I wished I coped better.

Then I looked at Japan again - the small miracles that have occurred and solidarity that has been expressed by the global community. If they can cope with this massive disaster and nuclear uncertainty, then I can cope with my small world of disorder...


So here's an update on Japan.  


In the three weeks since the 9.0 earthquake and massive tsunami hit Japan, the life and death struggles these polite, industrious people still face have largely been marginalized by the news media.

In addition to leaving 9,800 dead and 17,500 missing, March 11's massive earthquake and tsunami has left numerous stray and stranded animals throughout the disaster zone. 

A baby porpoise was rescued recently and hailed as a miracle amidst so much devastation. 

Yet the repercussions continue, as workers at the Fukushima nuclear power plant believe they are going to die trying to save their country and other parts of the world from this insidious threat.

The technicians, soldiers and firemen have been repeatedly exposed to dangerously high radioactive levels.


"My son and his colleagues have discussed it at length and they have committed themselves to die if necessary to save the nation," said a mother of one of the men. "He told me they have accepted they will all probably die from radiation sickness in the short term or cancer in the long-term."

The group of about 300 workers have been battling to cool dangerously overheating reactors by working in shifts of 50 after the plant's cooling system was knocked out during the March 11 tsunami. Hailed as local heroes, these technicians, soldiers and firemen are known as The Fukushima 50 or the "Atomic Samurai," a name the Japanese have given them.

"They have concluded between themselves that it is inevitable some of them may die within weeks or months," the mother said. "They know it is impossible for them not to have been exposed to lethal doses of radiation."

Radiation has been leaking from the complex, contaminating food produced in surrounding farmland and seeping into groundwater beneath the site.

Radioactive iodine was found in nearby seawater that is 4,385 times the legal limit. An abnormal level of radioactive cesium has also been found in beef from the area.

Although there likely will be an extended food ban on farming and harvesting within a 30 kilometre area surrounding the reactors, experts say there is the option of applying remedial measures. 

Cesium 137 is one of the radioactive compounds found in the soil. With a relatively short half-life of 30 years, chemical compounds like Prussian blue can help. Prussian blue binds to cesium preventing it from being taken up during the digestion in animals like cows, goats and sheep. This method is still used in Norway today to counter the effects of the radiation fallout from Chernobyl.

A squad of U.S. 'radiation-resistant' robots was dispatched to help the stricken nuclear power plant.


Controlled from afar by human handlers - these robots will be used primarily to take pictures and measure radiation levels in places where they wouldn't send a person. 


With France being the most nuclear-dependant nation in the world, President Nicolas Sarkozy has proposed a global conference that would create new nuclear rules so this type of accident wouldn't happen again.


To show his support, Sarkozy flew to Tokyo - the first visit by a foreign leader since the earthquake hit. Prime Minister Nato Kan thanked him for coming citing the Japanese proverb, "A friend who comes on a rainy day is your true friend."


May we all be "rainy day" friends, whatever our circumstances!