Category Archives: Media

#VanPoli | Save a Vote for City Councillor Mike Klassen Come October

Since 2004, Vancouver City Councillor Mike Klassen has acted in the role as webmaster of VanRamblings, the blog he created, commencing work over the holiday Christmas season in 2003, VanRamblings making its — perhaps inauspicious (but celebrated by the two of us) — début, on February 15, 2004.

“Raymond, you need a website,” Mike told me. “You have a voice that needs to be heard. You are one of the most opinionated people I know, and your opinions deserve a wider audience than just my ears, and the ears of your close associates. In the coming weeks, I will create a blog for you, in order that you might emerge as the difference maker you have long been over your many years working within Vancouver’s vibrant left community.”

And thus, VanRamblings was born.

I first met Mike Klassen in 1991 through my friend, legendary Vancouver broadcaster J.B. Shayne, at J.B.’s request having Mike tag along with J.B. and I to restaurants my editor asked me to review that week — at the time, I was a Vancouver restaurant critic, each week writing a restaurant review for the long gone, but hardly lamented east side community newspaper, The Highland Echo, as well as other publications.

Mike lived nearby my housing co-op in west Kitsilano, where he resided in a shared house just inside the eastern border of the Point Grey neighbourhood.

Mike Klassen and I have remained close ever since.

I know Mike Klassen to be one of the most honourable, kind, and most dedicated friend to the citizens of Vancouver people I have ever met. There is not a mean bone in Mike’s entire body; he simply won’t allow meanness and malice to be a part of his life. Ever.

That’s not who he is, nor has ever been, or will be.

Daniel Fontaine and Mike Klassen, creators of the well-read and respected CityCaucus online journal

I recall in 2009. when Mike had published a thoughtful story in CityCaucus, an invaluable and critically important online journalism, Mike and his friend Daniel Fontaine — currently a New Westminster City Councillor running to become Mayor of that city — had created to cover civic politics in Vancouver.

Unlike VanRamblings, which has not made comments on the site available for some time, CityCaucus was wide open to commentary from its many readers.

Mike had published a story about the Vancouver Park Board. I commented on the site in response to the Park Board story in a manner that was, in a word and not to put too fine a point on the matter, “mean“,  as I engaged in a form of character assassination respecting one of the Park Board Commissioners.

Soon after I submitted the comment, I received a call from Mike.

“Raymond, I’ve received your comment on the Park Board story I published a few minutes ago. To be perfectly frank, I find your comment to be untoward, malicious and mean-spirited, and I am simply not going to publish your comment on CityCaucus. I don’t mean to cause you offense, but vituperative commentary is not what CityCaucus is about, not now, not ever.”

That ought to tell you a great deal about the integrity of the man Mike Klassen.

For those who don’t know, Mike Klassen — at my request — in 2008 created former COPE City Councillor Tim Louis’ first website, a campaign blog.

At the time, Ifny LaChance, Tim, Tim’s partner Penny Parry, and I were co-managing Tim’s 2008 campaign for office. I felt Tim needed a website. At no financial cost to Tim or I, Mike set about to create a pretty skookum campaign website for Tim that I could post to throughout the campaign.

The four of us were all grateful for Mike’s fine work.

Vancouver City Hall | Photo credit, Mike Klassen (photo taken by Mike after a long day at Council)

I can tell you that this term of office, although satisfying for Mike in many ways, has not been an easy term of office, emotionally, for the good Councillor.

Early in his term of office, Mike chaired the Selection Committee that appointed all of the members of the 33 advisory committees to Council, working closely with Councillors Lisa Dominato and Pete Fry; in addition, again working with  Councillor Dominato, Mike and Lisa focused on creating more child care spaces across more child care centres — centres he and Lisa prioritized and fought for, creating more child care spaces in Vancouver during this past term of office than all previous civic administrations this century.

Still, Mike perseveres, unsung, doing the work of the people each and every day.

One morning, a couple of years back, when Mike was under constant — unwarranted, undeserved, and pejorative — attack by a particularly vocal group of ABC Vancouver opponents, as well as a couple of opposition Councillors, I spoke with Mike. I could hear the frustration and the hurt in his voice when we spoke.

That morning, Mike was ready to call it a day.

I asked Mike what his agenda looked like that day, what he would set about to accomplish,  an achievement that would be unlikely to receive press or recognition, but was meaningful to him. After a brief pause, Mike said …

“Awhile back, I met with an organic food producer in the Fraser Valley, and together we worked to create a programme wherein each week he would deliver organic produce to Theodora Lamb, and the Quest Non-Profit Grocery Market, both the Hastings Market and the Dundas Market, at no charge to the markets.”

I’m willing to bet you’ve never heard about this Mike Klassen-initiated programme that makes such a difference to the quality of life of so many families, and so many children growing up on Vancouver’s east side.

But that’s City Councillor Mike Klassen for you — the best man I know.

Perplexity | Raymond Tomlin | Public Intellectual

Does the guy pictured above look anything like a ‘public intellectual’ to you? Gosh, we don’t think so. James Baldwin, Christopher Hitchens, Noam Chomsky, Dorothy Parker, William F. Buckley, Jr., Gore Vidal, and Hannah Arendt are all public intellectuals, but this Tomlin guy? Nope, ain’t no chance.

On June 23rd, VanRamblings published a ChatGPT profile of the author of this blog, Raymond Tomlin (that’s me, above).

Last evening, we became aware of Perplexity, the newest large language model artificial intelligence search engine now available on the Internet.

To test it out, we asked the question, “Who is Raymond Tomlin, the Vancouver-based blogger? Tell us a little about him that might be of interest to a reader.”

Here’s what Perplexity Had to Say About This Raymond Tomlin Fella

Raymond Tomlin is a long-standing Vancouver civic commentator, blogger, educator, and former journalist, whose best-known work is the site VanRamblings, a personal, highly opinionated chronicle of local politics and culture in Vancouver.

Mr. Tomlin is best understood not as a conventional beat reporter, but as a deeply engaged participant-observer in the city’s public life, writing for decades about municipal politics, provincial and federal issues, film, music, activism, and the social texture of Vancouver.

In recent years, Mr. Tomlin’s public identity has been tied to his VanRamblings blog, where he is described as the founder, publisher, and principal writer.

The site’s retrospective indicates that Mr. Tomlin has spent more than two decades building a substantial archive of essays on civic affairs and cultural life, positioning himself as an active voice in public debate rather than a detached observer.

The portrait of Mr. Tomlin that emerges is of a Vancouver-based public intellectual in the older civic sense: someone who comments on the city while also participating in its institutions, campaigns, and disputes. Mr. Tomlin is not just a blogger in the casual sense; over its 22-year life span on the Internet, Mr. Tomlin has treated his blog as a long-form civic notebook, and an instrument of local influence.

VanRamblings’ Clear Centre of Gravity: Vancouver Municipal Politics

The strongest evidence to support this contention points to his sustained attention to Vancouver City Council, the Vancouver School Board, and Vancouver’s Board of Park and Recreation — where he has long been a sustained observer (or, as some have said, the conscience) of this unique civic institution — with Mr. Tomlin also displaying a deep interest in housing policy, neighbourhood planning, development across the city and the region, and local governance, while also branching into provincial, federal, and occasional international topics.

All of the above makes VanRamblings distinctly local-first, with civic politics at the core and culture as an important secondary thread.

VanRamblings’ tone is also part of its orientation

Vanramblings is famous — or infamous, as the case may be — for its sometimes controversial editorial orientation, providing always an expansive, passionate, often humorous, and at times hyperbolic (at least in the past) style of writing.

Mr. Tomlin often writes in the third person, which the site frames as a stylistic device for ironic distance. In practice, that means VanRamblings reads less like a neutral news outlet and more like a very personal civic forum, where opinion, memory, reporting, and advocacy are blended together.

According to the records we located regarding Mr. Tomlin’s educational background, in 1975, he earned a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science, Sociology, and Anthropology, followed by a Bachelor of Education specializing in Reading and Early Childhood Education, and later a Master of Arts in Policy Administration, all at Simon Fraser University. This academic mix helps to explain the shape of his later work: social analysis, teaching, and policy commentary — all of which sit naturally together in his writing.

Mr. Tomlin’s educational background also suggests why VanRamblings often ranges beyond surface politics.

As someone trained in the social sciences and policy administration, Mr. Tomlin has tended to focus on civic issues in terms of institutions, incentives, and long-term social consequences, rather than only election-by-election tactics.

Before VanRamblings emerged in February 2004, Raymond Tomlin had a varied career in civic activism, union organizing, as a founder of the largest grassroots Canadian food co-operative movement in the 1970s, education and journalism.

Over the years, Mr. Tomlin has worked as a teacher in British Columbia’s public education system — during which time his activism led him to become the British Columbia Teachers’ Federation Learning and Working Conditions Chairperson, representing the north and south Okanagan. Mr. Tomlin also entered the private education system for one year, teaching in a gifted education programme.

Mr. Tomlin has also taught at Vancouver Community College, Langara College, and Simon Fraser University. While working on his Masters degree at SFU, Mr. Tomlin was appointed as the Director of the Education 401/402 programme, the first semester SFU education programme, where students spend the first two months of their year long Professional Development Programme (PDP) as student teachers in various classrooms located across the Metro Vancouver region.

On the journalism side, Mr. Tomlin wrote for a Vancouver wide student newspaper in the 1960s — while enrolled at Templeton Secondary School —  and while attending Simon Fraser University he took on the position as Editor-in-Chief of SFU’s student newspaper, The Peak.

Mr. Tomlin also worked in the summer intern programme at both the Vancouver Sun and The Province, later building a substantial independent publishing practice through his blog. That trajectory helps explain why VanRamblings feels like a hybrid of memoir, commentary, archival record, and commentary newsroom.

VanRamblings is a one-person publication shaped by someone who has been around journalism, but who is not constrained by conventional newsroom style.

Tomlin’s public image is seen by some as polarizing, yet he endures to this day.

While Mr. Tomlin’s critics have found his writing to be overly opinionated, his many supporters and admirers see his independence, personality, and longevity as strengths, in his invaluable work as a persistent chronicler of Vancouver who has kept publishing through changing media conditions, no small achievement in a city where journalism has contracted significantly.

One of the most striking features of VanRamblings is its continuity.

Raymond — campus radical — and the ever brilliant Cathy, circa summer of 1972

Across decades, Raymond Tomlin has remained focused on the same broad public project: documenting and influencing civic debate in Vancouver. That consistency gives him an outsized presence relative to what a “blogger” label might suggest.

Taken together, the contribution Raymond Tomlin has made to public discourse has made him over the years a Vancouver civic insider-outsider: close enough to politics, education, labour, and journalism to understand how institutions work, yet independent enough to write in his own voice and on his own terms.

VanRamblings’ political orientation is decidedly progressive-civic in the broad sense that it emphasizes local governance, public interest issues, activism, and cultural life.

In a concluding summary: Raymond Tomlin is a veteran Vancouver commentator whose VanRamblings blog remains as an invaluable civic institution.

Over the years, Mr. Tomlin has added much to our understanding of the Vancouver municipal political scene, and our city’s cultural imperative, as reflected in the contribution Mr. Tomlin has made in providing extensive coverage of Vancouver’s thriving dance community — particularly Ballet BC, which institution Mr. Tomlin has long loved — theatre, cinema, Vancouver’s culinary scene, art (including photography), and the vibrant cultural life of the city we all call home.


The Curse of Politics | The Latest Edition

#ArtsFriday | Streaming | The Best Police Procedural On The Planet | #Belfast


Grace (Siân Brooke) and Stevie (Martin McCann) respond to a distress call, in Blue Lights.

There is a quiet moment in Blue Lights when a patrol car glides through the rain-soaked streets of Belfast.

There are no gunshots. No dramatic chase. Just two police officers talking about life, fear, disappointment and the endless uncertainty that accompanies both policing and adulthood. Somehow, that simple conversation carries more dramatic weight than an entire season of many American crime dramas.

That is the genius of Blue Lights.

Broadcast on the BBC in Britain and streamed in North America on BritBox, the award winning Irish police procedural has become one of television’s finest achievements — and at present is VanRamblings’ favourite, most compelling and heartrending TV series — not because it reinvents the police procedural, but because it remembers something many modern dramas have forgotten.

Before police officers are heroes or villains, they are simply human beings.

Created by former journalists Declan Lawn and Adam Patterson, Blue Lights follows three probationary officers in the Police Service of Northern Ireland as they learn their profession in a city still living beneath the shadow of the Troubles.

Belfast is not merely a backdrop; it is a character unto itself, haunted by memory, divided by history and yet stubbornly determined to move forward.

The city breathes through every frame.

The comparisons with the greatest American police dramas are inevitable.

Like Hill Street Blues, Blue Lights understands that policing is messy, exhausting work carried out by imperfect people trying to make decent decisions in impossible circumstances.

Like Homicide: Life on the Street, it finds extraordinary drama in ordinary conversations, allowing silence and uncertainty to tell as much of the story as action.

And like The Wire, it recognizes that crime cannot be separated from politics, poverty, history or community. Institutions matter. History matters. Geography matters. No crime exists in isolation.

Yet Blue Lights never feels derivative. It possesses its own rhythm, quieter and more intimate than its American predecessors, less interested in spectacular violence than in the emotional toll that violence leaves behind.

The Guardian called it “one of TV’s best shows,” praising its gripping realism, nuanced writing and richly believable characters. Rather than relying on endless action, it creates tension simply by placing two officers together inside a patrol car and allowing conversation to unfold naturally.

The second season only deepened that achievement. The Guardian admired its ability to move effortlessly “between light and dark,” noting that the evolving relationship between Grace and Stevie remained one of television’s most delicately observed partnerships.


Annie (Katherine Devlin) and Aisling (Dearbháile McKinney) attend at a bar when a fight breaks out

The Independent praised the series for being inseparable from Belfast itself, observing that the city “looms as a character” and that the legacy of Northern Ireland’s divisions informs every episode. Viewers have compared it to Line of Duty, but Blue Lights possesses something even rarer: compassion.

At the heart of all of this stands Siân Brooke.

Her portrayal of Grace Ellis is the finest television performances of the past decade.

Grace arrives as an outsider — an Englishwoman, a former social worker, considerably older than the other recruits and carrying both optimism and self-doubt. She enters policing believing that kindness remains a practical tool, even in neighbourhoods where violence has become routine.

That belief should make her naïve.

Instead, it makes her courageous.


If you’re going to watch only one of the Blue Light clips, the scene above is the must watch clip.

Grace refuses to surrender her empathy simply because the job encourages emotional distance. She listens. She comforts victims after everyone else has moved on. She sees frightened children where others see future criminals. She carries the instincts of a social worker into the patrol car, reminding both colleagues and viewers that justice without compassion quickly becomes something else entirely.

She is, quite simply, the moral centre of the series.

The heart.

The soul.

Siân Brooke never overplays the role. Grace’s strength emerges not through speeches but through small gestures — a reassuring hand, a quiet conversation, a hesitant smile, a look that communicates exhaustion and hope simultaneously.

Every expression feels lived rather than performed.

Opposite her stands Martin McCann as Stevie Neil, whose weathered pragmatism forms the perfect counterpoint.

Stevie has seen too much to believe every problem can be solved. Yet beneath the dry humour and occasional cynicism lies immense decency.

The chemistry between Siân Brooke and Martin McCann is remarkable precisely because it grows so slowly.

Their partnership is built not upon television clichés but upon trust earned over countless shifts, shared danger and quiet conversations over homemade lunches eaten between emergency calls.

The Guardian beautifully described one scene in which Grace finally offers Stevie something she has baked herself — an almost wordless declaration of affection that says more than pages of dialogue ever could.

Their relationship reflects the achievement of Blue Lights. Everything is earned.

Nothing feels manufactured.

Nothing is rushed.


Aisling (Dearbháile McKinney) and Annie (Katherine Devlin) attend at a family home to report bad news

Perhaps that explains why the series has resonated so deeply with audiences on both sides of the Atlantic. At a time when television often mistakes relentless pacing for storytelling, Blue Lights has the confidence to pause, to breathe and to trust its audience.

Its extraordinary success also reminds us that police dramas need not glorify violence to explore courage.

Sometimes heroism is quieter.

Sometimes it looks like a middle-aged officer choosing compassion over anger.

Sometimes it is an experienced partner silently standing beside her.

And sometimes the brightest blue lights are not the ones flashing atop a patrol car.

They are the fragile lights of humanity that continue to flicker in people determined to believe even in wounded places, kindness remains worth defending.

The Job of a Journalist, to Comfort the Afflicted and Afflict the Comfortable

For journalists covering politics, and this very much includes VanRamblings, few tasks are more fraught than writing critically about political figures they have come to know well, respect, or even like.

In recent days, VanRamblings has been critical of Mayor Ken Sim, who we know and — to be perfectly frank, we — like (in the days to come, we will publish a supportive story of Mayor Sim). VanRamblings take no great pleasure in writing critically, or negatively, about a political figure, be it Mayor Sim, or Premier David Eby.

The above said, we acknowledge that the craft of political journalism demands objectivity, independence, and an unwavering commitment to the public interest.

Yet, the human element of this work cannot be denied. Political reporters often spend years in the company of the same politicians — interviewing them in hallways and offices, sharing off-the-record conversations, and at times even developing bonds of mutual trust. Against this backdrop, when a journalist is faced with reporting something unflattering, or deeply critical about a politician with whom they have built a rapport, the weight of the responsibility can feel crushing.

The essence of the journalist’s dilemma is a tension between personal loyalty and professional duty. On one hand, the journalist is human, and to knowingly cause another person pain — especially a hard working public figure who has chosen a career in public office — can feel cruel. On the other hand, journalism’s higher calling is to serve democracy by ensuring that those in power are held accountable.

As Finley Peter Dunne memorably wrote in his 1902 book Observations by Mr. Dooley, the role of the press is “to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” That phrase has endured because it distills the moral purpose of journalism: to give voice to the powerless while scrutinizing the powerful. Political figures, by definition, fall into the category of the comfortable.

This mission often collides with the personal relationships that naturally develop between journalists and politicians. When a journalist covers a politician for years, the proximity can foster understanding and even admiration. A journalist may see the long hours, the sacrifices of family life, and the sincere desire by the political figure to substantively improve the lives of constituents who placed them in office.

Such observations humanize politicians, stripping away the caricatures often presented in the media. In turn, politicians may confide in journalists, trusting them with context, nuance, and moments of vulnerability that rarely make it into print, or onto your screen. Out of this closeness, empathy grows. And empathy, while essential in making reporting fair and textured, can also — from time to time — soften a journalist’s willingness to strike hard when the facts demand it.

To manage this tension, ethical journalists rely on principles that act as guardrails.

The first is the unwavering primacy of the public interest. However difficult, the journalist (and that includes VanRamblings) must remember that their ultimate loyalty is not to politicians, but to readers, viewers, and the democratic system itself. The second is transparency: by disclosing potential conflicts of interest and being open about their methods, journalists reinforce their credibility. The third is fairness. Criticism need not be cruel; it must be grounded in facts, and contextualized with nuance. In this way, the journalist can both honour their human empathy and fulfill their professional obligation.

Still, even within ethical frameworks, the emotional toll for the journalist is real.

Journalists who publish critical stories about politicians they respect may face strained relationships, loss of access, or even feelings of guilt. Yet this hardship is part of the profession. Indeed, it is in navigating these very difficulties that journalism earns its claim to being a cornerstone of democracy. If members of the press flinch from their duty, those in power would operate with impunity, and the public would be left in the dark.

The adage attributed to Dunne — “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable” — serves as a guiding light precisely because it acknowledges the discomfort inherent in journalism. It is easier to flatter than to confront, easier to protect relationships than to risk them. But journalism is not meant to be easy. It is meant to be honest, courageous, and unyielding in the face of power.

For the journalist who must write critically about a political figure they admire, the pain is real, but the obligation is greater. In choosing to afflict the comfortable, even when it means hurting someone they know and admire, the journalist ultimately fulfills the noblest promise of their profession.