Cuevano ~ Jorge Aranda

Recommendations from 2020

Well, what a year.

But if you are reading this, you made it to the end. I hope that you and yours made it unscathed, and that whatever is brewing for 2021 is gentler for the world than what we've gone through.

As usual, I have a few recommendations to share as the year ends. Maybe you'll find something new to like here.


Is there a bad Strugatsky brothers novel? I have been going through them piecemeal over the years, and it seems to me they could do no wrong. This year it was Hard to be a God, in which a scientist from a technologically advanced, communist Earth is sent to another planet to observe the dealings of an alien society stuck in the cruelty, superstition, and oppression of the Middle Ages—and is ordered to not intervene. He can see all that's wrong; he thinks he could stop the suffering; yet intervention may be counterproductive.

In a somewhat similar track, in Tyll, by Daniel Kehlmann, we get the story of a vagabond performer in times of war and plague. It is both sharp and humane, with just a touch of the fantastical. It's also instructive—a camouflaged historical novel about the horrendous Thirty Years War. Kehlmann wrote another more clearly historical novel that I enjoyed this year as well, Measuring the World, on the lives and academic pursuits of the mathematician Gauss and the explorer von Humboldt; diametrically opposed yet harmonizing.

There is a fairy tale, Lucky Hans, about a fellow who gets a huge treasure for his work and sets out on a journey. He gradually trades it all away, happy with each seemingly detrimental exchange, until he has nothing. Henrik Pontoppidan took that structure for Lucky Per, another novel I enjoyed this year, despite its length and the self-centredness of Per, the protagonist, which perhaps made me cringe because I saw some of myself in him.

The wizard in Ursula Le Guin's A Wizard of Earthsea starts from a similar point, but goes in an entirely different direction: the hero's journey here consists of restoring the balance after some early mistakes. I think Le Guin's books are so brilliant not because she packs a lot of plot per page—though she does; this slim book could be a multi-volume set in lesser hands—but because she packs a lot of wisdom. She translated the Tao Te Ching, and I think there is some of that here too. We are lucky to have her writings, and I look forward to reading the rest of this series.


I had my first run with social psychology in grad school, in the early 2000s, and I think now that it did some damage. "Researched showed" that we humans are not to be trusted: we will electrocute and might kill a stranger if asked to, we will brutalize our peers if given a police uniform and told to act as guards, we will not stop or call for help when we find someone in need. I would read these studies, surprised, and think "if the time comes, I need to do better than that," fearing that perhaps I actually would not. But I should have relied on that instinct of surprise more: in one of my favourite books this year, Rutger Bregman's Humankind, I learned that most of this initial research was deeply flawed, and in some cases outright deceptive. Bregman shows, with plenty of examples and findings across disciplines, that this cynical view of human nature is wrong. The large majority of us, across cultures and time scales, actually tend to be kind and protective of each other; this is our strength. We can be ruthless, of course, especially if we think ruthlessness is the way to live, which is why it's particularly important to spread the word that it is not. This book restored my faith in us, and I recommend it deeply.

Where Bregman clarified my mind, Peter Godfrey-Smith's Metazoa expanded it. It is a philosophical, yet empirically informed, exploration of animal consciousness; a lot of it based on underwater observations, because our farthest-removed relatives live under water. I saw it described somewhere as "philosophy in a wetsuit," and it's a fitting description. While I don't think it solves the mystery of the subjective experience, it helps illuminate it.

On a very different topic, but no less consequentially, Stephanie Kelton's The Deficit Myth demolished and reconstructed my understanding of economic policy. Kelton's plain prose and clear arguments make it easier to understand what I think is the economics equivalent of a Copernican revolution. I knew Modern Monetary Theory existed—I just didn't know I would find it so straightforwardly true. But be warned: if Kelton lifts the veil for you like she did for me, you'll be endlessly annoyed by the inane mainstream political commentary wondering "how are we going to pay for all these government programs" or lamenting "the national debt that we're passing on to our children and grandchildren."

Annie Duke's How to Decide is a handbook—a set of guided exercises, with commentary—that I found quite useful. It was initially meant to be a companion of her (also very good) Thinking in Bets, and it drove home some of the points of that book that I had only glossed over before.

Finally, Sarah Cooper's (yes, that Sarah Cooper's) 100 Tricks to Appear Smart in Meetings was a lot of embarrassing fun. I confess I had independently, and I think unconsciously, discovered some of these "tricks," and having them described as cynical ploys on the page, along with those I've seen from others, helped inoculate me from that low-level, counterproductive organizational sparring.


I think I only went to the movies a couple of times this year, before the pandemic closed it all down! But I was glad that one of those times was for Parasite; if you haven't seen it yet, I suggest you do. The less I say about it the better.

We did watch some TV, but oddly for a time of lockdowns, far less than previous years. I liked both seasons of The Umbrella Academy, and, so far, the first season of The Man in the High Castle.

The piano has been my Covid hobby. We bought a digital piano—a Roland HP702, which I love—in late July, and I have been playing it every day since. Among the resources that I've found most useful, I would recommend the Theory Lessons website and app, a great primer on music theory for a beginner like me, and Carl Humphries' The Piano Handbook, which I'm slowly going through.

My boardgaming group met very little in person this year, and it transformed into a Discord-based role-playing group. We have been playing a campaign using the Dungeon World system, which is accessible, flexible, and fun. (I have also been listening to the hilariously ridiculous Spout Lore podcast, an "actual play podcast" from some great Victoria-based improv comedians.)

With the family, I've been playing some escape room games that I think are very well done. We liked The Dungeon from Adventure Games, and pretty much every scenario from the Unlock! series that we've tried.

Speaking of escape rooms, I also decided to try out the Escape Mail puzzles from Mobile Escape, and I have been having a lot of fun solving them so far.

This was an odd, hard year, but I have many reasons for gratitude.

I'm grateful that most of my family remains healthy, that we're happily employed, and still discovering beauty around us.

I'm grateful for medical science—I believe the vaccines rolling out these days are the biggest scientific success of my lifetime.

I'm grateful to live in British Columbia, where we have the guidance of a great Public Health officer, Dr. Bonnie Henry, who preaches kindness and calm.

I'm grateful at the prospects of a little more sanity in the political discourse down South.

And I'm grateful for the still slim but slowly growing chances that I will get to see, hug, and kiss my family far away, perhaps within a year or so.

May you have a healthy and happy 2021.

(Previously: 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009)

Recommendations from 2019

The year wraps up, the decade (depending on how you count) wraps up, and so here I am, dusting up this blog once more to share some of the things I enjoyed in the past twelve months:


The most intriguing and beautifully written fiction book I read this year has to be Davies' West, in which, baffling everyone around him, an American settler and mule breeder leaves her ten-year-old daughter behind to go on a solo expedition to find the fantastical creatures that would match the—prehistoric—bones recently discovered in Kentucky. The world treats him and his daughter with predictable harshness, but the author is tender to them, and explores alienation, grief, vocation, extinction, displacement, and the wilderness in a very slim, careful text.

Armitage's revised translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, illustrated by Clive Hicks-Jenkins, was an enjoyable read. Perhaps the alliteration that Armitage emphasized so keenly in his translation gets in the way somewhat, but on the whole the story, the rendering, and the illustrations are all quite compelling.

The tale of Sir Gawain is about preordained death, and so is Vila-Matas' short story El Día Señalado (in Spanish; no translation as far as I am aware), in which a fortune teller predicts the day of the year and the conditions in which a girl will die. We follow her cycles of anxiety each year as the date approaches and she attempts to avoid the predicted conditions. I liked the story's arc as well as its incisive and unexpected observations about Mexico.

Recent years have given us a number of Roberto Bolaño's unfinished works that I sadly found I could not recommend. It would seem that, after his death, the vultures feasted on his archives, publishing anything and everything they found. Despite my better instincts, I would buy and read it all, with the result that I had inadvertently soured somewhat on his works as a whole. This is why it was such a pleasure to read his Monsieur Pain, one of the first books he published and which I had not been able to find before. While it's not his best work, it features a lot of what I like about him—his mixture of precise and ambiguous imagery, the turns of a scene from the banal to the nightmarish, that fantastical but plausible combination of Borges and Lynch.


I loved Goff's Galileo's Error and wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone interested in the philosophy of consciousness. I remember a conversation with a friend, ten or fifteen years ago, in which I claimed (in lucky ignorance) that deep down everyone is stumped by the question of consciousness. He said that this was not the case—Dennett had explained it—and I went, checked out Dennett, and was thoroughly disappointed: it didn't seem to me he was even in the right ballpark, yet without the proper training I could not explain why with any rigor, nor find satisfactory alternate explanations. This issue lay dormant for me until fairly recently, when I learned of Chalmers and then of Goff, who in his blog and his recent book explains, to a wide audience, with kindness and patience but without dumbing down, the state of the philosophical debate on consciousness. It's far more fascinating than I expected; as fascinating as the subjective experience of consciousness itself should have led me to expect.

Another great find for me was Tetlock and Gardner's Superforecasting. Tetlock has done the kind of research that I would have loved to conceive of and carry out: he analyzed the forecasting accuracy of experts, over many years, and though he found it seriously lacking (on the whole, hardly better than chance), he discovered that some people are actually great forecasters, and went on to investigate why, and how to transfer that skill to the rest of us. The book is enjoyable, smart, and in its own way, inspiring.

On the topic of mathematical thinking, I thought that Page's The Model Thinker was informative and useful. Page walks through a large number of models to conceive of a situation, and while the book is uneven, at the very least it provides the seed of insights one can pursue by oneself. Finally, I thought Broussard's Artificial Unintelligence gives the current AI hype a good cold shower. I would particularly recommend it to those for whom computing and AI appear alien and threatening.

Movies and TV

This was a great year for movies and TV, in my opinion. I had tons of fun with Knives Out; so much I had to watch it twice: first just to enjoy it, then to understand how it was done. It's one of those films you'll enjoy best if you don't know anything about it, so I won't comment on it further. Just resist the urge to even watch the trailer and go find it in the theatres, if you can.

While I don't usually go for a horror movie, I thought Us was excellent. Great atmosphere and performances; ideas, scenes, and social commentary that stay with you far longer than the thrill itself. Jojo Rabbit was great too: a combination of comedy and gut-punching tragedy that must have been very hard to pull off. And Julianne Moore was incredible in Gloria Bell, a movie that is down to earth, guardedly hopeful, and wise.

My favourite TV show this year (though it was a close call) was Russian Doll. Any story with a Groundhog Day premise gets my attention; this one plays with the plot with intelligence, a couple of great twists, and an increasing sensation of needing to right a world gone askew.

The other contender was Succession, which is deliciously nasty and sharp (I've yet to watch the second season; please do not spoil it for me). I also enjoyed The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, though if I'm honest, only the first season. The pilot is stunningly good on its own.


I found a great podcast series from Canadaland: Commons. Currently exploring Canadian dynasties, the previous season focused on the oil sector, and was quite eye-opening. Canadaland also produced Thunder Bay, an excellent walk through the racism, corruption, and homelessness that plague a city most of us rarely think about. Cautionary Tales was another informative podcast this year: good popularization of social science research, relevant for everyday life.

And finally, a boardgame recommendation for a game I only tried once, recently, but stayed with me: the very asymmetric Root. Four players with very different goals and game mechanics play on the same board and can cooperate or hinder each other (one plays for industrialization, another for military dominance, a third for class struggle, and the fourth for solo adventuring) in the context of a forest filled with cute critters. Such disparate mechanics and goals should make for an unbalanced game, and yet it all worked well together. I expect I'll be playing this one much more.

I'm happy to say 2019 was another good year for me and my family. I made a point of disconnecting more from the news firehose last year—from Facebook (pretty much everywhere), from Twitter (on my phone), from obsessively checking the dumpster fire in the most powerful country in the world—and the benefits were clear to me. I plan to continue along this path.

As part of this disconnection, I almost did not touch this blog at all. I did not announce, for instance, that I switched jobs midyear, leaving Limbic Media after six years and joining Workday; I did not drop by to say that I'm having a tremendously great time in my new position. I did not write about my disappointment, when going on a bit of a pilgrimage to see Remedios Varo's works at the Museo de Arte Moderno, that the museum's Varo collection was entirely in storage after being featured in a major exhibition that I missed by a couple of weeks. I did not mention that Mushi the Cat went missing from the family that adopted him (I don't believe I had mentioned that we had to give him up for adoption either), nor that he was thankfully found again. I didn't mention I gave a couple of talks, after years away from the microphone. I didn't come to presume to tell you who to vote for in the Canadian Federal election this time around.

I'm not sure how to feel about that. Bittersweet? I would have liked to share some of those things, but I don't believe you needed them. Nevertheless I think I'll come to the blog more often in 2020, though I'm not sure what for, how frequently, or when. Subscribe if you want to, but I promise nothing :-).

I wish you a happy 2020!

(Previously: 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009)

Recommendations from 2018

It's the end of the year again, which as far as this blog is concerned, means it's time to dive into my memories of 2018 to bring you some gems you might like. Here we go!


This was another good year for fiction. I particularly liked Miller's Circe, a modern take on Greek mythology from the point of view of the world's first divine witch. The premise may sound a bit conceited, but the gods feel real, powerful, and vain; while humans, short-lived, sometimes genial, wash through Circe's shores. The book is a page-turner, but a wiser and kinder one than I anticipated.

Patrick DeWitt had a new book out this year, French Exit, and it was excellent: eccentric characters, crisp dialogue, fun settings. When I was done I wanted more of it, but—as the book warns from the very start—all good things must end.

Malas Hierbas, by Pedro Cabiya, is a very entertaining story of a Caribbean zombie passing off as a pharmaceutical executive, trying to find a way to become alive again. I understand that the English translation (Wicked Weeds) is quite good, but I haven't read it.

Meanwhile, in Barba's República Luminosa (not translated yet, as far as I can tell), a city's bands of roving homeless children begin to take control, to organize, to terrorize, and to coopt the more privileged youth to their side. It's a surreal and subtly horrifying ride.

Speaking of horrifying, Lewis's The 2020 Commission Report is based on the premise that Kim's North Korea attacks Trump's United States in the year 2020, and that the book—the report—is the best effort of the US Congress to understand how it all spiraled out of control. Lewis is an arms control expert, and what makes this book nightmarish is that pretty much everything that goes awfully wrong in it has actually gone wrong; we've just been lucky that it hasn't had the same outcome yet. Despite the horror, this tale of annihilation was far more fun than it had a right to be.

I also enjoyed Alderman's The Power, a tale in which women discover an inner source of extraordinary physical power, immediately and radically shifting the gender power imbalance, and smashing the patriarchy—and a lot more with it. It's a bit on the nose, but I think it needed to be: I learned a lot from it about our real gender dynamics, and I suspect you might, too.

Finally, North's The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August was lots of fun. It's a kind of Groundhog Day story, in which the protagonist relives his life after each death, retaining the memories of what's happened in his earlier lives. It's probably one or two hundred pages too thick, but still quite engaging.


Harper's The Fate of Rome deals with the shocks that nature dealt the Roman Empire, in the form of climate change and pandemics, weakening it, and ultimately helping bring about its downfall. History has evolved a lot, being now much more informed by the creative use of forensic archaeology, climate science, DNA sampling, and epidemiology, and the results are eye-opening.

Clear's Atomic Habits, a self-help book, actually helped me. It provides good, practical advice on how to foster the kind of habits we want and break those we don't. I had to squint past the folksy anecdotes at the start of each chapter, but it was worth it: the discussions on how habits shape identity, and on how to tweak that system in our favour, were enlightening.

Two other books with good practical advice: first, Nosrat's Salt, Falt, Acid, Heat made me a far better cook, not by giving me easy recipes to follow, but by helping me understand the underlying principles and tools available in the kitchen. Read it all and you'll find it has somehow built up your intuition in ways you'll find useful and gratifying three times a day. It is also beautifully illustrated.

And second, Metz and Owen's 99 Bottles of OOP provides a clear example on how to approach programming problems with a test-driven development perspective, how to tackle naming challenges, and when and why to create abstractions. Down to earth mentoring, easy to follow, immediately applicable. I've been programming for many years, but I still found Metz and Owen's book improved my skills almost overnight.

Children's Literature

My daughter and I have enjoyed reading through the stories in Nagaraja's Buddha at Bedtime many times. They are approachable, relevant, and wise. Not really religious, as the title might lead you to believe; just calm and mindful. Nagaraja has two other books for kids on the same vein, and they are just as good.

We also discovered Woodcock's Coding Games in Scratch, an easy to follow guide, and we've been having lots of fun programming games together: the platform makes it easy to have a full game coded in an hour or two, and it's pretty amazing to see it unfold.


I've recommended Duncan's Revolutions podcast before, but I feel like I need to do it again: he's now going over the Mexican Revolution, which I believed I understood well already, and I find that I get a lot more context and insight from Duncan's narrative.

I thought the first season of Wooden Overcoats, about competing funerary homes in a small English village, was hugely entertaining: great voice acting, fun situations, good writing. And the Beef and Dairy Network Podcast, a satirical improvisational show supposedly about the cattle industry, gets pretty weird and features great comedy actors.

Finally, while not a podcast, I've been meditating daily using Headspace this whole year, and loving the results. I should be able to meditate unassisted, but I could never do it regularly before, and I'm grateful for the range of assistance that Headspace gives me, and the ways it helped me establish the meditation habit.


Three boardgame recommendations: first and foremost, Secret Hitler, a Mafia-like social deduction fable in which liberals try to keep fascists out of power, while fascist plot to keep Hitler's identity secret, and to get him into the Chancellery. It's very easy for liberals to shoot themselves in the foot, weakening the republic and its norms as they try to root the fascists out. The game art is quite pleasing, its mechanics are better than most similar party games, and its theme is on point for our times.

Food Chain Magnate, the most recent game from Splotter, is, like most of their previous games, sharp, balanced, and rewarding. It can be played online here for free, and maybe it should—the accounting is all automated online, so you can better focus on your food chain franchise.

Flamme Rouge was a joy to play. You take the role of a team of two cyclists, and you win if one of them is the first in the game to cross the finish line. Every other team will have as much energy available as yours, so it all comes down to efficiency and placing your cyclists tactically in the group. The rules are simple and can be explained in ten minutes, but they fit the theme of the game beautifully: drafting, elevation, exhaustion—all of these concepts become accessible and intuitive.

Movies and TV

The best movie I watched this year came late: Cuarón's Roma, available on Netflix, was just undescribably good. It's gorgeously shot and directed, but, far more importantly, I could not stop thinking as I was watching it the great extent to which it was True: true to me, as a child born in Mexico in the seventies, true as in honest and heartfelt, true architecturally and contextually, true as art should be. Roma does not show my life's events, but it shows my life like no other movie I can think of. It's a masterpiece; I know I'll go back to it many times.

The Coen Brother's The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, an antology of six short Western stories, also available on Netflix, was funny, dark, cruel, and touching; one hard candy after another. I think it's one of the best Coen movies yet.

Another good dark movie was Iannucci's The Death of Stalin. Stalin dies, and those around him jostle for power, while everyone else just tries to do whatever it takes to stay alive in this demented regime. The humour here is lucid and macabre, but I know it's not to everyone's liking,

Finally, I was told I should see Sorry to Bother You without reading anything about it, so as not to spoil it. It was good advice, and I pass it on to you: just go see it, if you can find it.

So. It was another good year for us, and as is often the case, it feels strange to type this in the knowledge of the disparity between our small lives and the bizarre wellspring of despair of the daily news cycle. And this brings to mind one more recommendation to wrap up this post: to disconnect more.

After struggling with the unfolding calamities in newsfeeds everywhere, I decided to get them all out of my phone: no Twitter, no Facebook, no news apps—and nothing at all at night. I still check in on my computer, now and then, reading the news once or twice a day like the gods intended. I still care. But now most of the frantic daily stuff looks small, pointless, and overheated, a recipe for frustration and rage. I'm glad to be out of the loop. Instead of reaching for my phone, I keep a book nearby, and a list of long reads on my computer. I feel a lot saner and more focused as a result. Maybe you'd like to try it?

I hope 2019 goes wonderfully for you. Happy New Year!

(Previously: 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009)

Victoria's Municipal Election, 2018

Victoria is having its municipal election just a week from now, on October 20th, and the streets, including our own sidewalk, are lined with lawn signs.

This post lists some resources I found useful in deciding who to vote for, and then my rationale and endorsements.


  • The City of Victoria elections page is one impartial place to start looking for information on the candidates
  • Victoria Votes has useful summaries on all candidates. Generally speaking, I found the site's commentary a bit lax, though not misleading—reading the candidates websites, conveniently linked from the Victoria Votes site, you can find more relevant details
  • Victorians for Transportation Choice has candidate responses to transportation questions, which have turned out to be one of the main dividing issues among candidates. I feel the questions are smart, and the answers give good hints both about the stance of the candidates and about their understanding of civic matters
  • The School Board Trustee candidate platforms are, as a rule, ambiguous, mushy, and released too late, and it's difficult to really assess where they stand. I guess, since there are only nine candidates for twelve positions, not standing out too much is a good strategy. But this makes it difficult to make an informed decision. On a pinch, the BC Teachers' Federation's endorsements page helps by providing a list of progressive, labour-minded candidates
  • Sexual education is a wedge issue elsewhere in Canada, but thankfully our school district is mostly enlightened in this regard. Sex Ed Is Our Right collected trustee candidates' stances on the Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity program, and if you scroll down to district 61 you will see that most candidates support it

Where We Stand

Four years ago, I somewhat reluctantly endorsed Dean Fortin over Lisa Helps. Helps won a narrow victory and went on to prove that my concerns with her were unfounded. She has been an effective mayor in a period of significant growth in Victoria. She listens to city residents, she is receptive to First Nations issues, she promotes neighbourhood community building, and she has steered the city to an (even more) enviable position within Canada.

The two main issues in town today, I would say, are transportation (or, really, the expansion of the bike lane network) and housing.

The first should be a non-issue. In Victoria's streets, as in most of the world, the car is king. We know this situation is expensive and unsustainable. We know that walking and cycling whenever possible make us healthier and keep our air clean and our wallets full. So we need to slow down car traffic and to build a cycling network, in order to make car alternatives safer and more compelling.

So the city begins building a modest network of separated bike lanes downtown, and to consider lower speed limits, and—as entitled factions tend to do—the Car Clown Task Force comes out in full force, complaining about a war on cars, about gridlock, about lack of parking, about the choice of street for a bike lane, about construction costs, and so on, until they've convinced themselves that they're being oppressed so hard they won't be able to come out of their driveway. But I've been through downtown since the new bike lanes opened, both driving and cycling. Driving is still just as fine. Cycling is unbelievably better. We should keep building this network.

The second issue is serious, and while one may argue that Helps and Council should have seen this coming and reacted more quickly, I think they just got caught up in the wave with inappropriate short-term options. The problem is that housing here is expensive—in Canada, I think Vancouver and Toronto are the only cities with a worse housing problem.

We basically have a lot of people moving into town (it's a great place to live!), and while construction cranes are now a seemingly permanent fixture in town, there are not enough spots for everybody yet, and in particular for families with kids. All of this raises rents, mortgages, and property taxes, and therefore makes living here unaffordable. It increases homelessness. It makes the prospect of having to move extremely stressful for many. So we need a denser city, but it takes time to build up, it takes effort to fight NIMBYism, and it takes prudence to grow responsibly and maintain a green, laid-back city with a beautiful character.

Last election, we had two strong left-of-centre candidates (Helps and Fortin). This year, the stronger opponents to Helps are further to the right. Stephen Hammond and his New Council slate have predictably toady proposals, such as tax cuts, increasing police budgets, and stopping the bike lane network. Similarly, Michael Geoghegan wants to fight the current bike lane placements, and to loosen energy efficiency standards in new construction. To the extent that his platform has themes, they are to make city governance more like Langford's (a Victoria suburb) and to get money from the provincial and federal governments to solve our problems (which, sure, I want that too, but good luck).



This year, the choice for mayor was easy. The incumbent, Lisa Helps has been an effective and capable leader, with a promising vision for Victoria. She definitely has my vote.


The vote for councillors is as important as the one for mayor! They help shape the agenda and provide us with better representation at City Hall.

You can vote for up to eight councillors, but note that it is good strategy to only vote for your favourites, as filling up a ballot increases the chances that candidates you are less keen on squeak past your preferred choices.

  • Jeremy Loveday is my top choice for City Council. I have personally seen how active and purposeful he's been as a councillor fighting for the civic good. When we began organizing to improve our neighbourhood, he was there with us, giving us advice and information. I will gladly vote for him.
  • Grace Lore, I think, will bring a useful perspective to Council: as a working mother, and as a renter, she brings to her platform underappreciated issues of family housing and childcare that, if implemented, will benefit us all
  • The Together Victoria slate (formed by Laurel Collins, Sarah Potts, and Sharmarke Dubow) also has my support. Its three candidates will help address the affordability problems in Victoria
  • Ben Isitt is, finally, also a reliable, progressive choice for Council, and I encourage you to support him, too

School Board

Given the difficulty in assessing differences between trustee candidates, I encourage you to vote for the candidates endorsed by the BCTF. In alphabetical order:

  • Vincent Gornall
  • Diane McNally
  • Ryan Painter
  • Rob Paynter
  • Jordan Watters


In our ballots, we will also have a referendum question on whether to establish a Citizen's Assembly to explore the amalgamation of Victoria with Saanich. I am, in general, averse to amalgamation (I prefer small organizations over large; I saw the damage that amalgamation brought, and continues to bring, to Toronto), but this question is merely about establishing an Assembly to explore the issue, and about Victoria and Saanich, two municipalities that are joined at the hip. I will reluctantly vote Yes in the referendum question.

Free Money for Charity

Many of the most impactful charities around the world are not set to receive tax-deductible donations from Canada. If you want to donate to them in a tax-deductible way, you need to find a registered charity in Canada that will reliably pass along your donations, and provide you with a tax receipt.

These days, the best way to do that is to donate to one or several of the campaigns set up by Rethink Charity Forward (RC Forward), within the CHIMP platform. This is how I manage a good chunk of my monthly donations (to a Global Health Fund, to GiveDirectly, to an Animal Welfare Fund, and a small sum to contribute to RC Forward's operations).

The reason I post this is that, due to a CHIMP promotion, for the next week I can send three of you a CHIMP referral which, should you accept it, will give both your new account and my current account $10 to donate to the charities of our choice.

That's potentially a total of $60 which can go to very worthwhile causes. Please consider joining! If you want one of these referrals, let me know, soon, at jorge.aranda (AT), and I'll send it your way.