Explore the bottom rung of the ladder. Ontario Premier "Goofy" McGuinty stated that he made a mistake. For the longest while I was at a lost at precisely which one on the long papered list that he fessed too.
Oh now it goes like this. He made a mistake. The minimum wage was not going up after all. Like every other economic downturn caused by the top tier of the social strata, its going to be the bottom feeding impoverished that are going to suffer for it. Like every other depression the burden is always felt by the poorest.
And all this coming from Ontario politicians who have never been shy of giving themselves raises at the time when they do the very least for the electorate. The callous behavior towards the lower strata of society appears to be growing.
Let them eat tuna. Forever.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Stealing prose
Crossing Jarvis a crackhead sported two pure white Stetson's on his head. They were in the parlance of the street going for a good price. Obviously this marketing effort was preceded by a visit to a retail outlet.
About one hour later another happy guy crossed the Queen Street sporting same said headgear. A white Stetson in downtown Toronto. Theft needs subtlety.
About one hour later another happy guy crossed the Queen Street sporting same said headgear. A white Stetson in downtown Toronto. Theft needs subtlety.
Trouble in TTC city
Mayor David Miller, and his lap politician Adam Geeiamaphony run the TTC as a City of Toronto fiefdumb. They always espouse the idea of a green city all the while working against that ideal.
As part of the deal for a higher monthly Metro Pass rate on the Toronto Transit, the molten minds of 100 Queen countered by making free parking available at distant parking lots. Now the kabal rescinded that long promise by applying standard parking fees to their frequent loyal users.
Now this is the price of having these high political numbskulls being chauffered around and given free Metro Passes to all council members. And they did this at the end of the month, and just when it was getting warm. About half the fleet of subway cars are ozone friendly and just have circulation fans moving the air through the cars. Surface route services have deteriorated on almost every aspect.
About one fifth of those Metro Pass users will revert to their cars. By dropping the Metro Pass and since most of these people have established work positions in the core part of their perks was a discount on downtown parking. Translation result. More cars in the city core, not less.
Knuckleheads.
As part of the deal for a higher monthly Metro Pass rate on the Toronto Transit, the molten minds of 100 Queen countered by making free parking available at distant parking lots. Now the kabal rescinded that long promise by applying standard parking fees to their frequent loyal users.
Now this is the price of having these high political numbskulls being chauffered around and given free Metro Passes to all council members. And they did this at the end of the month, and just when it was getting warm. About half the fleet of subway cars are ozone friendly and just have circulation fans moving the air through the cars. Surface route services have deteriorated on almost every aspect.
About one fifth of those Metro Pass users will revert to their cars. By dropping the Metro Pass and since most of these people have established work positions in the core part of their perks was a discount on downtown parking. Translation result. More cars in the city core, not less.
Knuckleheads.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Forgotten wit
The large thing is that I had a witty fricking thing to put in this blag halfway to this restaurant. Torn between a good hamburger and a witty phrase, the burger won out. Forgotten is the witticism.
A critical casualty of haste and waste. Lost is the twist of phrase for the humorous taste. My memory in old age lost. Hard hit and maced.
A critical casualty of haste and waste. Lost is the twist of phrase for the humorous taste. My memory in old age lost. Hard hit and maced.
Beginning to "End"
Hole-eee. Its done. A full pizza at the moment. I am still hungry. Me smart. I can type and chew same time.
Went through two full days without, a coffee...rrrr.. Kmart. Went through a downthepizzachutescopy and an upmefuckinassscopy.
Didn't have much to do. Had to consume a disgusting liquid laxative product from Ireland to produce an emptying flow of shit. There is cultural irony somewhere in there.
Couldn't eat for a couple of days. Wasn't much to do. So I made up appropriate comments on this compooputer.
1. My shit don't smell. I don't have any.
2. God I was so frightened I was shitless scared.
3. I'm not pooped yet, Doc!
4. I love my toilet but my toilet don't like me.
5. I had to run like hell to get here.
The only real charm about this procedure is that in order to insert the probe the medpros had to insert here..., air. According to the nurse, 4 litres of air.
Wheeled into the recovery area with all the other probedees, I could fart, and fart, and fart. Let go some beauts. No stink farts though. Lost a few points on the last one. A smelly fart is the cherry on the cupcake.
The result... One benign polyp got removed. It didn't even bleed much. Otherwise, as perfect looking a poop machine as there ever was. In the words of the medpro. “Look at those arches!”
----
update
A colleague emailed me this am. To hide the identity I will be gender neutral. It wondered about whether or not they found my brain? Lucky sod.
Ans. Yes...
It was the polyp they removed. It was nerve material. IQ improved by 66 points.
Went through two full days without, a coffee...rrrr.. Kmart. Went through a downthepizzachutescopy and an upmefuckinassscopy.
Didn't have much to do. Had to consume a disgusting liquid laxative product from Ireland to produce an emptying flow of shit. There is cultural irony somewhere in there.
Couldn't eat for a couple of days. Wasn't much to do. So I made up appropriate comments on this compooputer.
1. My shit don't smell. I don't have any.
2. God I was so frightened I was shitless scared.
3. I'm not pooped yet, Doc!
4. I love my toilet but my toilet don't like me.
5. I had to run like hell to get here.
The only real charm about this procedure is that in order to insert the probe the medpros had to insert here..., air. According to the nurse, 4 litres of air.
Wheeled into the recovery area with all the other probedees, I could fart, and fart, and fart. Let go some beauts. No stink farts though. Lost a few points on the last one. A smelly fart is the cherry on the cupcake.
The result... One benign polyp got removed. It didn't even bleed much. Otherwise, as perfect looking a poop machine as there ever was. In the words of the medpro. “Look at those arches!”
----
update
A colleague emailed me this am. To hide the identity I will be gender neutral. It wondered about whether or not they found my brain? Lucky sod.
Ans. Yes...
It was the polyp they removed. It was nerve material. IQ improved by 66 points.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Fox News trashes Canada
Red Eye, a program on Fox News Broadcasting, the content that is wholly the responsibility of Fox News, trashed Canada, and all Canadians. Yes its okay to make humor at our foibles such as our excessive politeness as Jon Stewart did a few weeks ago. Most people anywhere find, including Canadians find it a funny quirk.
But when people who think they are funny, make comments on something about they know nothing to be intentionally hurtful then one must draw a line in the sand. It stepped beyond a simple insult.
I have one question. Yes it is important to help Afghanistan peoples recover from the war and insure their own security. But beyond that, are you sure that we are on the right side? Why do we bother being a member of NATO at all? Are you sure about being on the right side in this war or any future war?
In the future when it comes to supplying water, wood minerals, raw materials, fuels, energy to these scumbags south of the 49th, lets not. And no amount of excuses will now change my viewpoint of this corrupt nation to the south. We can easily see that with the loss of their wealth, with the loss of their military competency it is time to look for other partners globally.
This TV program was but a straw, but such a bale of sheep dip like this can break any camel's temper.
But when people who think they are funny, make comments on something about they know nothing to be intentionally hurtful then one must draw a line in the sand. It stepped beyond a simple insult.
I have one question. Yes it is important to help Afghanistan peoples recover from the war and insure their own security. But beyond that, are you sure that we are on the right side? Why do we bother being a member of NATO at all? Are you sure about being on the right side in this war or any future war?
In the future when it comes to supplying water, wood minerals, raw materials, fuels, energy to these scumbags south of the 49th, lets not. And no amount of excuses will now change my viewpoint of this corrupt nation to the south. We can easily see that with the loss of their wealth, with the loss of their military competency it is time to look for other partners globally.
This TV program was but a straw, but such a bale of sheep dip like this can break any camel's temper.
The Fox List - boycott these programs
Fox carries the Red Eye Program, which not only insulted the Canadian armed forces, Canadian participation in Afghanistan, Canadian police, Canadians in general, they insulted me, and you. We do not care for a simple apology. Rather the only way to send them a message is to hit them where it hurts, which is the pocket book.
The following is the list of programs listed by the Fox Broadcasting Network. In the light of the displayed attitude of this American funded network, do not watch these programs. In doing so, you will send a message to Fox Broadcast.
Many of these programs are carried by CanWest Global. Send them an email. Also many of the advertisers who use Global to carry their message should be contacted as to the disgust with.
The following is the list of programs listed by the Fox Broadcasting Network. In the light of the displayed attitude of this American funded network, do not watch these programs. In doing so, you will send a message to Fox Broadcast.
Many of these programs are carried by CanWest Global. Send them an email. Also many of the advertisers who use Global to carry their message should be contacted as to the disgust with.
News
- Fox News Sunday (since 1996)
[edit] Drama
- 24 (since 2001)
- Bones (since 2005)
- Dollhouse (since 2009)
- Fringe (since 2008)
- House (since 2004)
- Lie to Me (since 2009)
- Prison Break (2005–2009)
- Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (since 2008)
[edit] Sitcom
- 'Til Death (since 2006)
[edit] Animation
- American Dad! (since 2005)
- Family Guy (1999–2002, since 2005)
- King of the Hill (1997–2009)
- The Simpsons (since 1989)
- Sit Down, Shut Up (since 2009)
- The Cleveland Show (since 2009)
[edit] Reality shows and talent competitions
- American Idol (since 2002)
- America's Most Wanted: America Fights Back (since 1988)
- Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader? (since 2007)
- COPS (since 1989)
- Don't Forget the Lyrics! (since 2007)
- Hell's Kitchen (since 2005)
- Kitchen Nightmares (since 2007)
- The Moment of Truth (since 2008)
- So You Think You Can Dance (since 2005)
[edit] Sports events
- NASCAR on FOX (since 2001)
- Major League Baseball on FOX (since 1996)
- NFL on FOX/FOX NFL Sunday (since 1994)
- Four of the five games in the Bowl Championship Series (2007–2010)
[edit] Late night and variety
- MADtv (1995–2009)
- Talkshow with Spike Feresten (since 2006)
[edit] Specials
Sunday, March 22, 2009
CWSS#6
CWSS#6
“Ole bull!” It was a Tuesday in early June. The sun tucked behind Signal Hill led a rosy grey sky. Brother and me took to playing Matador.
Matador rules. One would grab his bike. He became the Bull. The other player grabbed a towel substitute for the cape.
Brother took a full turn as bull. He ducked and wove. Like now, he then proved a capable bull.
Then the turn came to me. The new bull took off on his new bike, in his new pants and with something to prove.
I took a couple of passes and the brother Matador waved the terry-fied cape. Great fun. But it was time to dial it up. The bull (me) took off up to the end of the block at Yawkey at Drake about two hundred metres to the north.
Turning at that point the bull cranked hard, on pumping legs. The new bike was capable of a top speed of more than thirty miles per hour and that was the goal. The Sturmey-Archer clicked into the top gear. The bull closed in a hurry on the Matador’s cape.
One foot before the front tire of the bull hit the cape, Matador dropped the cape. The cape caught in the tire, wrapped into the fender stopping the front wheel then and there. Unfortunately, the laws of motion meant that the brainy part of the stupid bull went flying into the air into the swan dive.
In the supplied graphic I have tried to replicate the stunned stupid look by the diver as he rocketed into the pavement.
I managed to have my hands and arms out. And as a result with all the gymnastic twisting, I managed to protect my head but my left shoulder took the heavy impact. The Matador laughed while running to get mother and first aid.
Aftermath
Couldn’t make the Pony league team since it meant I missed the whole summer. My future in baseball dissipated. Yet, baseball then did not have the same Canadian development system that it does now.
I never was mad at brother for this. If I saw a ton of monkey meat bearing down as fast as a car, I would have dropped the cape too.
According to the doctor I suffered a cracked scaphoid bone in my left wrist which needed a cast for six weeks.
I also seemed to be stiff which changed my delivery in curling. Flexibility seemed to be deserting me.
Final notes
Pictured. Recreation of emotive expression as I flew through the air to a crash landing.
This concludes the series on how I might have suffered that serious back injury. These incidents provided the likeliest times when I may have suffered those compressed fractures in my back. You can understand my difficulty when someone asks, "How did you break the bones in my upper back?"
I don't know? You pick.
“Ole bull!” It was a Tuesday in early June. The sun tucked behind Signal Hill led a rosy grey sky. Brother and me took to playing Matador.
Matador rules. One would grab his bike. He became the Bull. The other player grabbed a towel substitute for the cape.
Brother took a full turn as bull. He ducked and wove. Like now, he then proved a capable bull.
Then the turn came to me. The new bull took off on his new bike, in his new pants and with something to prove.
I took a couple of passes and the brother Matador waved the terry-fied cape. Great fun. But it was time to dial it up. The bull (me) took off up to the end of the block at Yawkey at Drake about two hundred metres to the north.
Turning at that point the bull cranked hard, on pumping legs. The new bike was capable of a top speed of more than thirty miles per hour and that was the goal. The Sturmey-Archer clicked into the top gear. The bull closed in a hurry on the Matador’s cape.
One foot before the front tire of the bull hit the cape, Matador dropped the cape. The cape caught in the tire, wrapped into the fender stopping the front wheel then and there. Unfortunately, the laws of motion meant that the brainy part of the stupid bull went flying into the air into the swan dive.
In the supplied graphic I have tried to replicate the stunned stupid look by the diver as he rocketed into the pavement.
I managed to have my hands and arms out. And as a result with all the gymnastic twisting, I managed to protect my head but my left shoulder took the heavy impact. The Matador laughed while running to get mother and first aid.
Aftermath
Couldn’t make the Pony league team since it meant I missed the whole summer. My future in baseball dissipated. Yet, baseball then did not have the same Canadian development system that it does now.
I never was mad at brother for this. If I saw a ton of monkey meat bearing down as fast as a car, I would have dropped the cape too.
According to the doctor I suffered a cracked scaphoid bone in my left wrist which needed a cast for six weeks.
I also seemed to be stiff which changed my delivery in curling. Flexibility seemed to be deserting me.
Final notes
Pictured. Recreation of emotive expression as I flew through the air to a crash landing.
This concludes the series on how I might have suffered that serious back injury. These incidents provided the likeliest times when I may have suffered those compressed fractures in my back. You can understand my difficulty when someone asks, "How did you break the bones in my upper back?"
I don't know? You pick.
Uniform madness
Readers give me hell for not providing a link. This is another case. I am going to comment on Ministry of Transportation of Ontario uniforms.
According to the source, which I can't remember at the moment, the Ontario government gave the contract to a Chinese clothing manufacturer. This isn't a knock against the Chinese. Good on them if they can give good bidding. But in the last six months the economy went to hell. A lot of Canadian workers are also out of work. The optics are bad for the Canadian governments.
I am not as upset about this awarding of a clothing contract. Even Roots moved its manufracturing out of Canada. It was supposed to be an All Canadian company. So having the MTO uniforms produced in another country doesn't really bother me.
ON the other hand, the making of a flag in another country though is terrible spin, PR, appearance, or whatever. The opposition parties are making a fuss about buying Canadian. I can recall the panic when the US President was recommending that Americans should buy American. Canadians went into a tizzy for the completely opposite reasons. Sounds just a little hypocritical to knock the Chinese for being competitive. Canadian steelmakers are competitive. Why should they be punished?
According to the source, which I can't remember at the moment, the Ontario government gave the contract to a Chinese clothing manufacturer. This isn't a knock against the Chinese. Good on them if they can give good bidding. But in the last six months the economy went to hell. A lot of Canadian workers are also out of work. The optics are bad for the Canadian governments.
I am not as upset about this awarding of a clothing contract. Even Roots moved its manufracturing out of Canada. It was supposed to be an All Canadian company. So having the MTO uniforms produced in another country doesn't really bother me.
ON the other hand, the making of a flag in another country though is terrible spin, PR, appearance, or whatever. The opposition parties are making a fuss about buying Canadian. I can recall the panic when the US President was recommending that Americans should buy American. Canadians went into a tizzy for the completely opposite reasons. Sounds just a little hypocritical to knock the Chinese for being competitive. Canadian steelmakers are competitive. Why should they be punished?
CWSS #5
One instant I was pushing a car. The next I felt whole body pain spearing up my legs. Shock went up my spine into the skull.
Jimmy could have been considered my best friend. I had three best friends at the time. Two Jims and a Danny. How can one have three bestest friends? Which one was first? They all were.
Ten in the morning late August, and the skies were bright in the looming advent of a new school year. Wearing my new pants, I tallyhooed mom out the door. She yelled not to visit Jimmy as the door slammed. The question was whether or not I was far enough out the door to actually hear the last order. Guess I was too far out the door, because I was heading for Jimmy's place.
More about Jimmy. This Jimmy lived about a couple of doors down the street. His dad had built a humongous partially submerged garage. Jimmy managed to get a car despite the fact that no driver's license would hang in the wallet for another three years at least.
Jimmy was on the shorter side but not that short. He was brickhouse walking. Strong like bull. Jimmy didn't do all that well with school but this was not due to a lack of brains. His intelligence was grounded not distracted by academic abstractions.
He could not cite Shakespeare poetry but damn he owned a beater auto. The plentiful poets like me couldn't really fathom how that trick could be done.
Jimmy managed to make things happen. My mother told me Jimmy was bad. Jimmy's parents told him that I was bad. They suspected me for being an instigator of some sort.
Jimmy wasn't bad. There wasn't a bad bone in his body. He never deliberately hurt anyone or anything. He was a kind guy. We just did things which adults considered morally challenging if not legally challenging.
When we were three, I accidently poked Jimmy in the eye with a pointy wooden stick. We were playing sword fighting with sharp pointy sticks. Hey I felt really bad. But we both got past it very quickly. It was a even up play fight. The parents didn't get over it. They'd remind me and Jimmy all the time. To them a weapon of mind control, to us an exercise in stupidity because we both knew the truth, it was a frigging accident.
Jimmy was never boring. I got bored really easy. Good coffee is always stirred well. Life is supposed to be like a good coffee. All the young kids that the parents wanted me to play with were nice people but exceedingly boring.
Why me? I never considered me exciting. Then again if Jimmy wanted to do something like light off a tub of gasoline on an asphalt driveway I never got in the way of the idea. Others would lecture or something. My job was to assist. I just went to the edge of the driveway to give the all clear. I guess my job was look out.
And now the same was today. Like I said I was bored. When I got to Jimmy's place and entered this fully equipped home garage housing this old Envoy. The Envoy was a boxy old car English in style and even had the steering wheel on the wrong side which was the right side.
Jimmy said he just finished fixing the muffler system. He needed some help pushing the car outside. He was planning on road testing it. This we had done before. He was decidedly underage to drive, which was at the end of the day, gigantically part of the thrill.
No ride for me. My job in this enterprise was to stand at the curve in front of the house, watching for police. During this time, Jimmy would drive up to the far corner, pull a U-turn (known as a Uuey), and come roaring back yanking a turn into the garage.
In most enterprises, I did the watching. I was the tallest of the bunch and in my youth I had very good eyes. The red hair made my location obvious. Best of this, was that the police considered me a goody two shoes because both parents were professionals.
Thieving wasn't part of my repertoire since I personally found it discomforting. Participating in stupid stunts however, challenged all the limits. So this little enterprise this day became a must do.
Jimmy pointed me to get on the trunk and start pushing. We gived her a mighty heave. The car didn't move. Jimmy laughed pulling the parking brake to off. He said gleefully, “Whoops!!”
Jimmy yelled push! With a mighty heave ho on the car's ass, the Envoy started rolling out of the garage to the street. Two paces the car began to roll. I took the third pace.
In the world of life experiences, this sort of hit a high point. Suddenly the car was getting taller. Taller than me. Hands now above my head slid off the car. Darkness... Impact speared on both legs when the feet made hard contact with ground. The right shoulder slammed into a wall. I slid onto a greasy pool.
“Keep pushing!” yelled out Jimmy.
Surprised I found myself lying beneath the car, in a garage pit. My legs hurt and back hurt. Crawling up the side beginning to stand up, I realized I had torn my new pants and they were soaked shiny wet black in waste motor oil.
Jimmy started laughing. He asked if I was okay. I nodded as I went through the check list of appendages, limbs, feet, hands and digits. Everything seemed sore and hurting. I began thinking of my pants. They were done.
I began thinking of a rational explanation permeated with the tones of honesty. This couldn't be a complex explanation.
Simple was believable. Mother would see through it and she had incredibly good radar.
“It was an accident. I was walking down the ditch behind the garages and fell on that pile of greasy stuff behind the garages (which were lined up on the other side of the street).” ...”No, I was alone.”
AFTERMATH
Mom gave me hell over the pants. She then went behind the garage and saw the pile of crap that was there all right. I think she knew Jimmy was somewhere around this story but my alibi about me, the lone fool, stuck.
About a week after that, I saw a very angry neighbor cleaning up behind the garage after a visit by the town's bylaw officer.
The township works came with a backhoe and made the ditch deeper and wider. The next year that same angry neighbor moved that garage closer to his home.
Jimmy made it a point of putting the boards over the pit when done. I got my pants. It took several weeks to get over the aches and pains caused by the drop.
Jimmy could have been considered my best friend. I had three best friends at the time. Two Jims and a Danny. How can one have three bestest friends? Which one was first? They all were.
Ten in the morning late August, and the skies were bright in the looming advent of a new school year. Wearing my new pants, I tallyhooed mom out the door. She yelled not to visit Jimmy as the door slammed. The question was whether or not I was far enough out the door to actually hear the last order. Guess I was too far out the door, because I was heading for Jimmy's place.
More about Jimmy. This Jimmy lived about a couple of doors down the street. His dad had built a humongous partially submerged garage. Jimmy managed to get a car despite the fact that no driver's license would hang in the wallet for another three years at least.
Jimmy was on the shorter side but not that short. He was brickhouse walking. Strong like bull. Jimmy didn't do all that well with school but this was not due to a lack of brains. His intelligence was grounded not distracted by academic abstractions.
He could not cite Shakespeare poetry but damn he owned a beater auto. The plentiful poets like me couldn't really fathom how that trick could be done.
Jimmy managed to make things happen. My mother told me Jimmy was bad. Jimmy's parents told him that I was bad. They suspected me for being an instigator of some sort.
Jimmy wasn't bad. There wasn't a bad bone in his body. He never deliberately hurt anyone or anything. He was a kind guy. We just did things which adults considered morally challenging if not legally challenging.
When we were three, I accidently poked Jimmy in the eye with a pointy wooden stick. We were playing sword fighting with sharp pointy sticks. Hey I felt really bad. But we both got past it very quickly. It was a even up play fight. The parents didn't get over it. They'd remind me and Jimmy all the time. To them a weapon of mind control, to us an exercise in stupidity because we both knew the truth, it was a frigging accident.
Jimmy was never boring. I got bored really easy. Good coffee is always stirred well. Life is supposed to be like a good coffee. All the young kids that the parents wanted me to play with were nice people but exceedingly boring.
Why me? I never considered me exciting. Then again if Jimmy wanted to do something like light off a tub of gasoline on an asphalt driveway I never got in the way of the idea. Others would lecture or something. My job was to assist. I just went to the edge of the driveway to give the all clear. I guess my job was look out.
And now the same was today. Like I said I was bored. When I got to Jimmy's place and entered this fully equipped home garage housing this old Envoy. The Envoy was a boxy old car English in style and even had the steering wheel on the wrong side which was the right side.
Jimmy said he just finished fixing the muffler system. He needed some help pushing the car outside. He was planning on road testing it. This we had done before. He was decidedly underage to drive, which was at the end of the day, gigantically part of the thrill.
No ride for me. My job in this enterprise was to stand at the curve in front of the house, watching for police. During this time, Jimmy would drive up to the far corner, pull a U-turn (known as a Uuey), and come roaring back yanking a turn into the garage.
In most enterprises, I did the watching. I was the tallest of the bunch and in my youth I had very good eyes. The red hair made my location obvious. Best of this, was that the police considered me a goody two shoes because both parents were professionals.
Thieving wasn't part of my repertoire since I personally found it discomforting. Participating in stupid stunts however, challenged all the limits. So this little enterprise this day became a must do.
Jimmy pointed me to get on the trunk and start pushing. We gived her a mighty heave. The car didn't move. Jimmy laughed pulling the parking brake to off. He said gleefully, “Whoops!!”
Jimmy yelled push! With a mighty heave ho on the car's ass, the Envoy started rolling out of the garage to the street. Two paces the car began to roll. I took the third pace.
In the world of life experiences, this sort of hit a high point. Suddenly the car was getting taller. Taller than me. Hands now above my head slid off the car. Darkness... Impact speared on both legs when the feet made hard contact with ground. The right shoulder slammed into a wall. I slid onto a greasy pool.
“Keep pushing!” yelled out Jimmy.
Surprised I found myself lying beneath the car, in a garage pit. My legs hurt and back hurt. Crawling up the side beginning to stand up, I realized I had torn my new pants and they were soaked shiny wet black in waste motor oil.
Jimmy started laughing. He asked if I was okay. I nodded as I went through the check list of appendages, limbs, feet, hands and digits. Everything seemed sore and hurting. I began thinking of my pants. They were done.
I began thinking of a rational explanation permeated with the tones of honesty. This couldn't be a complex explanation.
Simple was believable. Mother would see through it and she had incredibly good radar.
“It was an accident. I was walking down the ditch behind the garages and fell on that pile of greasy stuff behind the garages (which were lined up on the other side of the street).” ...”No, I was alone.”
AFTERMATH
Mom gave me hell over the pants. She then went behind the garage and saw the pile of crap that was there all right. I think she knew Jimmy was somewhere around this story but my alibi about me, the lone fool, stuck.
About a week after that, I saw a very angry neighbor cleaning up behind the garage after a visit by the town's bylaw officer.
The township works came with a backhoe and made the ditch deeper and wider. The next year that same angry neighbor moved that garage closer to his home.
Jimmy made it a point of putting the boards over the pit when done. I got my pants. It took several weeks to get over the aches and pains caused by the drop.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Happy at Fifty
What's the big sports kerfuffle this week? Its not fighting. Its not expansion. Its not concussions. Its not about bankruptcy of teams. No...
The overwhelming controversy is Alexander Ovechkin celebrating his fiftieth goal. I heard about this first over the radio, the Fan 590 to be precise. From hearing it there first, I thought that he committed a major time consuming demonstration. My mistake.
When I saw the replay over Youtube it took all of ten seconds if that much. It was over so quick I had to rewind. Ovechkin scored the goal, finished his run behind the net, put the stick on the ice, hopped around a bit and bounced around with hands extended to his stick. Then he picked it up and skated around. It took longer to write this out. It will take longer to read it rather than see it. Yet this little maneuver took the media by storm and consumed hours of punditry and comments.
The reaction was quantively and qualitively more over the top than the actual event. Small minds leads to great yappage.
Its all material flapping to the breeze.
Flash!
gov.on.ca denies it, since the loonie would never stop at their bailiwick. In a time of economic crisis, the government of Ontario awarded the flag contract to a Chinese flag maker, rather than a Canadian one. The operators of the legislature found that the flags were cheaper if bought from Chinese makers.
Courageously, the Liverals declared that the Ontario Legislature is apart from the government. It is technically true, however.... In the same breathing episode, one can point out that the Speaker of the House functions as the chief executive of the legislature and he/or she is almost always from the ruling party, which is .... the Liverals.
They set a good example for us all.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Who dat?
At the store. On the video surveillance TV. Watching me, watching them, watching me.
It is the theme of the blyg after all. Dressed in black. Looking for a candy bar.
Wandering and buying time to ponder the question about North Ontario. After all these years of production, the higher levels of government sending money to banks, sending money to automakers trying to revive the broken economy.
But here. Nothing for Northern Ontario. Again industries fold as incompetent Quebec majors skim the equity off the mills and plants. And the governments disrupturing people and community in the northern parts of any province. With no political voice, they are only ghostly images on the clouds of cameras of the local grocerterias.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Like whoops!
For the readers of this blag, it can be easy to understand the total perfection with which my incisive comments pierce to the cores of a wide range of topics. I hate to shatter that gilded view but recently even the 238 can make a bone headed mistake.
Brother took time. A lot of friends know that there has been recent acrimony amongst those who should be close family members, but aren't. But he did take the time to notify me as to the sudden death of a classmate and team mate "Steve Will".
For a lot of reasons, I just couldn't believe it. Steve Will was one of those golden haired people, the blessed. One of those people that go through life, doing perfect things. He first married a wonderful person Lynne who was the best looking cheerleader in high school. He was successful at everything. He was a jock though and for that he wasn't a close friend of my tiny pantheon of good friends. On the other hand, there was a measure of respect for the guy.
Any way, I refused to believe the information at first. There had to be some sort of mistake. The news was terrible. Like I had lost touch with the old ones in TWNBMB. What's it been almost a full decade since I was in TWNBMB. Anyway I made a mistake for which I am sorry about. I told him that it couldn't be... and gave my usual bullshit as to why.
Like I said, Don took the time and thought to tell me albeit the coolness of the relationship. At first I did get it wrong. For all that though, I really did appreciate the effort.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Pulling hairs
Enough of the serious shit from the morning postings. This bling will introduce the update of the length of my hair. This has been a project on the large scales. Lets feces the facts man, nothing but the facts.
Due to the lack of suitable fundings about three years ago I decided to forego the need to administer descalation of the head. If anyone cares as of this date this is the lot tied into the likeness of an equestrian rear appendage.
Due to the lack of suitable fundings about three years ago I decided to forego the need to administer descalation of the head. If anyone cares as of this date this is the lot tied into the likeness of an equestrian rear appendage.
Club lurking
One of the things which make it hard to move away from Toronto, is the Computer Club. Its inexpensive. Interesting events occur there. If one gets a computer problem, simply go there.It is where I update the craptops to a higher grade. Although free wireless exists in the city, the club expels a consistent stream of radio waves free from the interruptions of microwaves and uhf cop radios.
Next time you're traveling through the neighborhood during weekday mornings, a tour can be deranged.
Stand up
Northern Ontario lost its voice. Northern Ontario residents are not equal citizens in Canada. Northern Ontario needs a new political movement, and a new spirit.
Repetition focuses on this persistent problem. Its been stated here in this blag more than once. However, some readers might forget. For a long time, this place, this person advocates strongly, passionately for an independent Northern Ontario.
Importance comes from the symbolism of neglect and patronizing attitude demonstrated by southern Ontario government and people. The arbitrary decision to cancel the spring bear hunt demonstrated that callous attitude. The loss of political power in all political parties and caucus symbolizes that fact. Promises made by the provincial government to replace the lost income to the business people involved in that tourist sector never ever materialized.
The economic incompetence of the central governments ruling Northern Ontario wrecked its economy. The woods industry wrecked. The tourist industry wrecked. The electrical supply wrecked. The education system wrecked.
Symbolizing this enslavement of Northern Ontario emerges from its favorite recreation which is Curling. Participation of Northern Ontario people in curling surpasses any other Canadian region yet the elitist sports associations of curling located in the very distant urban centres wish to deprive Northern Ontario curlers of their chartered rights.
Northern Ontario curling memberships went to pay for the growth of curling in Canada. Now when NOnt is down economically those same curling associations are going to deprive it of this recognition and its right to contest for the Brier Tankard.
If NOnt curlers really had any stones, if this happened all of these curling associations must cede themselves from the central curling associations. Since there is still enough curlers in NOnt more than all the European Associations, they should demand the right to compete in the world curling championship, even if it must compete as association for a country like Jamaica or Turks and Caicos or Nuuk.
The loss of curling rights only symbolizes the dilemma confronting peoples of Northern Ontario face. It matters little whether they possess a First Nation or a European heritage, this effects all equally. And it is important that the urban area, the rural area, and the First Nation communities recognize this increasing discrimination from other Canadians. It is time to take control of those rights.
Repetition focuses on this persistent problem. Its been stated here in this blag more than once. However, some readers might forget. For a long time, this place, this person advocates strongly, passionately for an independent Northern Ontario.
Importance comes from the symbolism of neglect and patronizing attitude demonstrated by southern Ontario government and people. The arbitrary decision to cancel the spring bear hunt demonstrated that callous attitude. The loss of political power in all political parties and caucus symbolizes that fact. Promises made by the provincial government to replace the lost income to the business people involved in that tourist sector never ever materialized.
The economic incompetence of the central governments ruling Northern Ontario wrecked its economy. The woods industry wrecked. The tourist industry wrecked. The electrical supply wrecked. The education system wrecked.
Symbolizing this enslavement of Northern Ontario emerges from its favorite recreation which is Curling. Participation of Northern Ontario people in curling surpasses any other Canadian region yet the elitist sports associations of curling located in the very distant urban centres wish to deprive Northern Ontario curlers of their chartered rights.
Northern Ontario curling memberships went to pay for the growth of curling in Canada. Now when NOnt is down economically those same curling associations are going to deprive it of this recognition and its right to contest for the Brier Tankard.
If NOnt curlers really had any stones, if this happened all of these curling associations must cede themselves from the central curling associations. Since there is still enough curlers in NOnt more than all the European Associations, they should demand the right to compete in the world curling championship, even if it must compete as association for a country like Jamaica or Turks and Caicos or Nuuk.
The loss of curling rights only symbolizes the dilemma confronting peoples of Northern Ontario face. It matters little whether they possess a First Nation or a European heritage, this effects all equally. And it is important that the urban area, the rural area, and the First Nation communities recognize this increasing discrimination from other Canadians. It is time to take control of those rights.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Clearing skies
A rather backhanded compliment to Hamilton. Dreams of a new Kyoto beginning. McGuinty however has made up with an abnormal amount of discharging gas from his bag. So there is no difference in the sum greenhouse gassing.
Added to this Andrea Horwath, which has a {"W} pronounced like a "V". I mean its a "W" or "double u" and not "double V". To my punny ears its pronounciation sounds more like "An dryer whore bath. "
Regardless Horwath or Horvath or Whorebath, took over the NDP by alliteratated Howard Hampton. Yes the New Dumber Party steps into a deeper puddle of the politically correct demographic. Angling for the women's vote in the next election they are trying to grab the lesbian demographic that voted for McSquinty last election.
Meanwhile, Tory Tory lost a byelection in a seat that has voted blue since Lord Simcoe pissed in the lake that later became his namesake. One would think that a guy named John and Tory would have done better but lost to a Johnson, a Richard one. Calling himself Rick, to cover up that he is a Dick, then you see how porno the new leaders of the opposition got.
Now that the Tories have lost Tory, they obviously need a new leader who has a name close in triple XXX punography. Or fail in the next erection.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Grey and Blue of Spring
Sentries of waste blocks our haste. Waiting, they wait for trucks limited by the city council's next brain fart.They are grey and blue, staring with closed lids to glean the moment in wonder. The racoons figured out how to raid these buckets already. Beasties climb the fences, clamber on top and rock til she falls. Then inspect the spewed for each delicious morsel expelled or crawls.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Flashers update
Surprise NOT!!!
Having temporary access to the internet propels the righteousness of my comments. Swedes move to daylight saving time on the last day of March, or in other words the morning of April 1st...
Here's the subject of my little research project. April Fools' Day in Europe causes heart attacks. Stupid Swedes.
I looked it unscientifically on Wikipediac. Home of the medpro's cardiac.
Having temporary access to the internet propels the righteousness of my comments. Swedes move to daylight saving time on the last day of March, or in other words the morning of April 1st...
Here's the subject of my little research project. April Fools' Day in Europe causes heart attacks. Stupid Swedes.
I looked it unscientifically on Wikipediac. Home of the medpro's cardiac.
Flashes from CTNMITHB
Flash!!!
Posture was recently enlightened. Apparently, the best posture position is relaxed almost a slouch. The hard upright position so long advocated by those teachers appears wrong. This figures. I was right all the time. Now that I am closer to the reaper than the peeper all these things are coming forth.
Flash!!!
Poisoning a mouse can be a curious enterprise. The landlord encouraged me to place poison close to the route where the mice were coming in on the pipes. Now I could care less about a teeny weeny mouse. City people get squeemish about mice but go out of their way to provide habitat for racoons.
Anyway, the pellets work. Within a couple of days the mice had trampled down the poison on their way through. They ceased coming into the room despite the roadwork. I guess there was a lot of discomfort for the teeny beasties as the pellets got caught between their tiny little toes.
Flash!!!
Swedes are beautiful man. They study the most stupid stuff. One of their studies indicated that when there is a time change from standard to daylight time, the rate of heart attacks increase for two to three days. This got all over the North American media like two days before the most recent event which occurred this weekend.
Now applying a demographic of Swedes to the complex social structures of a declining North America is an interesting process. North Europeans entrench their culture with the curse of punctuality. It supposedly sets them apart from the French and Spanish.
Sweden is further north than almost every North American city which means that their dawn only occurs later in the day and their sunset occurs earlier. The impanicked NAFTA media only researched the data that supported the Swedish ascertain. For instance heres a subsidiary flash... North Americans sleep less than we did a decade ago.
Unfortunately they mixed report demographics. As a former prospect for a sleep study, who realized that the medpro in charge pasted the sign “another sucker” on all the heads of fat people, I wasn't fooled by this little daliance of the medical community into a profit maker.
Their favorite targets are insomniacs who can sleep. They almost never help those people who have a legitimate reason for not sleeping. The latter group really screws up their cure rate. Every person I've met never gets enough sleep. Its like one of those little cultural small talking points like weather, and kicking bums off park benches even though they would never go into the park in the first place. For as long as I can remember, people always complain that they sleep less than a decade ago.
Anyhow, short sleep does not cause heart attacks. Insane medpros do more for that. Apparently, another subsidiary flash comes streaking in here. All medical waiting rooms seem to have upright chairs imparting incorrect posture, which causes more depression and fatigue and back problems. See how these circle back on themselves.
Flash!!!
The great secret not let loose on the general civilization by the medpros. One of the great curiosities of recent decades has been the rise of depression in the general population as a statistic. There are a couple of excuses for this. One of the most popular is because of the stress of modern life. This complaint has been popular since Charles Dickens wrote his socialized bigotry. This has been so long used it must be bogus. Another answer may pounce perhaps?
I can't help noticing a related study. The graph rise in the rates of depression, are mirrored by the graphical decline of smoking and smoker's rights. As the use of nicotine declines, depression increases in equal measure. Just another study suggestion for the Swedes, as if they need any more encouragement to do such.
* pic: testing out posture scientifically, but too late.
Posture was recently enlightened. Apparently, the best posture position is relaxed almost a slouch. The hard upright position so long advocated by those teachers appears wrong. This figures. I was right all the time. Now that I am closer to the reaper than the peeper all these things are coming forth.
Flash!!!
Poisoning a mouse can be a curious enterprise. The landlord encouraged me to place poison close to the route where the mice were coming in on the pipes. Now I could care less about a teeny weeny mouse. City people get squeemish about mice but go out of their way to provide habitat for racoons.
Anyway, the pellets work. Within a couple of days the mice had trampled down the poison on their way through. They ceased coming into the room despite the roadwork. I guess there was a lot of discomfort for the teeny beasties as the pellets got caught between their tiny little toes.
Flash!!!
Swedes are beautiful man. They study the most stupid stuff. One of their studies indicated that when there is a time change from standard to daylight time, the rate of heart attacks increase for two to three days. This got all over the North American media like two days before the most recent event which occurred this weekend.
Now applying a demographic of Swedes to the complex social structures of a declining North America is an interesting process. North Europeans entrench their culture with the curse of punctuality. It supposedly sets them apart from the French and Spanish.
Sweden is further north than almost every North American city which means that their dawn only occurs later in the day and their sunset occurs earlier. The impanicked NAFTA media only researched the data that supported the Swedish ascertain. For instance heres a subsidiary flash... North Americans sleep less than we did a decade ago.
Unfortunately they mixed report demographics. As a former prospect for a sleep study, who realized that the medpro in charge pasted the sign “another sucker” on all the heads of fat people, I wasn't fooled by this little daliance of the medical community into a profit maker.
Their favorite targets are insomniacs who can sleep. They almost never help those people who have a legitimate reason for not sleeping. The latter group really screws up their cure rate. Every person I've met never gets enough sleep. Its like one of those little cultural small talking points like weather, and kicking bums off park benches even though they would never go into the park in the first place. For as long as I can remember, people always complain that they sleep less than a decade ago.
Anyhow, short sleep does not cause heart attacks. Insane medpros do more for that. Apparently, another subsidiary flash comes streaking in here. All medical waiting rooms seem to have upright chairs imparting incorrect posture, which causes more depression and fatigue and back problems. See how these circle back on themselves.
Flash!!!
The great secret not let loose on the general civilization by the medpros. One of the great curiosities of recent decades has been the rise of depression in the general population as a statistic. There are a couple of excuses for this. One of the most popular is because of the stress of modern life. This complaint has been popular since Charles Dickens wrote his socialized bigotry. This has been so long used it must be bogus. Another answer may pounce perhaps?
I can't help noticing a related study. The graph rise in the rates of depression, are mirrored by the graphical decline of smoking and smoker's rights. As the use of nicotine declines, depression increases in equal measure. Just another study suggestion for the Swedes, as if they need any more encouragement to do such.
* pic: testing out posture scientifically, but too late.
Friday, March 06, 2009
DC Everest
Pictured is Dwight Clarke Everest, the Wisconsin man credited with building a wood products company, and in real definition the founder of TWNBMB. He passed away 53 years ago. This legacy escapes. The people who took the torch failed miserably.
After I bought a car, sometimes I would wander down to the rotting ruins of Jackfish. Jackfish at one time was one of the most important ports on the Great Lakes. Its harbour accepted coal for the railways, fish from Lake Superior to southern Ontario markets. It had lumber streaming to its docks. Passenger ships made it a regular stop. It had one of the most famous hotel saloons on the CPR railroad. Important people traveling on the rail system made it a point of stopping over for one or two shots. It had diversity. According to its residents it had potential.
Within a decade, economic surprises killed the goose. The railways loved the diesel locomotive for every economic reason. Oil replaced coal for home heating. The Trans-Canada highway opened allowing wood products to be trucked out to major cities for sawing and planing. According to the US Army Engineers, lampreys invaded the unprepared lakes almost causing Lake Trout to become extinct and the fishery was killed.
Jackfish faded into forgotten history. Towns boom from nothing in Northern Ontario at the apathetic whims of business and government. Residents in these communities leave at the site of impending economic disaster.
I used to sit on the upper edges of the rockcuts that overlooked Jackfish Bay. The thoughts circled around one vision that may come true. What would it be like to have a hometown which is a ghost town. I am afraid that this may happen. I was born in a town that will no longer exist.
Beyond Everest, there is a graveyard on the right hand side of Peninsula Road on the way out of TWNBMB. In it lay the bodies of many people, friends, that I know. One can go down to Port Coldwell to see what a forgotten cemetary is like. Coldwell another ghost town also had the hotel that housed many of the Group of Seven artists during their creative work period. It is a forgotten cove.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Its all relative Fahrenheit
Listening to the radio during this cold snap, one could hear the disappointment in the reader's voice. Of course this related to the weather segment.
And it was cold for Toronto. It is the first time in six winters that I had to put on my mitts "before" I stepped outside. Shocked, I be.
Now the one flaw in the Toronto weather is one of insecurity. During these times they want so much to be like the ROC. They almost always use wind chill to create a better lower and cooler number.
For instance, the Brandon people will forecast a minus -25 C degrees. They mean it. Usually this is the daytime high.
Then Toronto weather person at 680News goes on about the cold weather. Places from the prairies reported minus twenties, this moment the early morning temperature. She said, "The weather in Toronto is minus eighteen, ..." Then added with tone greased with disappointment "... but with no wind, the temperature remains at -18."
And it was cold for Toronto. It is the first time in six winters that I had to put on my mitts "before" I stepped outside. Shocked, I be.
Now the one flaw in the Toronto weather is one of insecurity. During these times they want so much to be like the ROC. They almost always use wind chill to create a better lower and cooler number.
For instance, the Brandon people will forecast a minus -25 C degrees. They mean it. Usually this is the daytime high.
Then Toronto weather person at 680News goes on about the cold weather. Places from the prairies reported minus twenties, this moment the early morning temperature. She said, "The weather in Toronto is minus eighteen, ..." Then added with tone greased with disappointment "... but with no wind, the temperature remains at -18."
Monday, March 02, 2009
CWSS issues - #6 to be investigated
According to a communication, to which I can attest to its perspiration and truth, apparently a personage by the initials JC claimed to have seen me take a hard fall while playing basketball. Now at the moment this testiclemonial appears to be hearsay.
I am looking for the phone card. I do appreciate the contribution to this totally unworthy silly time consuming project. I do need details. At the moment the whole blig would consist of...
"The big dummy fell hard during a basketball practice."
This of course lacks content. The lack of graphics I get complaints, imagine what I get when there is little content.
Outside of cyber world, I get "Gordie shut up!" Here I get."Where's the content."
And all that, the great Buddha says seek the middle way. In this, where is the middle way?
Oh yes. A loose end appears. How did I guess that it was basketball practice? Well TC the coach, rarely played me, cuz he hated hippies. He preferred to play Springer approved beer guzzlers. I mean, if a player lands that hard, the coach should send the player to the hospital.
Well another one bites the dust. Another blyg notch it the Kardex rotowheel of life.
I appreciate the contribution. It helps when people can help with the put downs. That's all.
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