Part of the answer is in the question, really, isn’t it?

“Out here”.

“Out” can be nice, sure – for a visit — but “in” is definitely more my style. Yet often that’s a bit too abstract to be accepted as an answer. Not like you can’t get good doughnuts out in Whitby or a decent cup of coffee in Burlington. I’m convinced you can even get a good Greek meal out in the far-flung mining town of Sudbury. And the people? Yeah, sure, I bet they’re not all backwoods rapists and gun-toting hillbillies. Somehow, though, the context lacks poetry.

So in lieu of a concrete explanation, I hope to use this post to paint a picture. Perhaps I can print it off and simply hand it over next time the question is put to me – save me having to put up half-smiles and awkward references to twanging banjos.

Monday. Beep. Hiss. Medium double-double. I’ll have mine black. And a blueberry muffin; I know, I know — diet. Off in thirty seconds, dash dash dash to catch the streetcar.

Tuesday. The DVP’s backed up again? You don’t say. No, don’t take the Gardiner, that won’t get you anywhere – Lakeshore’s a better alternate. Maybe I should bike it in tomorrow. Wonder how much rent is down here?

Wednesday. Shock’s worn off. Gotta be in the office early today – why’s the damn GO train late again? “Attention TTC passengers…” Great, another jumper on the Yonge line — the day I get the car with no A/C!

Thursday. Late day. Overcast, gray. Spicy food hangs on the slow breeze and from somewhere high above a solo saxophone plucks emotion out of the air. Looks like rain.

Friday. Steamy mist from rises from the grates in the market; meaty men unpack trucks, hand over hand. Fresh fish, raw vegetables, new meat, freshly baked breads, mature cheeses, and coffee; all the world wafts through the narrow cobbled streets.

Saturday. Chinese people in the park moving in slow, circular motions in unity, pulling and pushing invisible objects. A solo erhu plays from a nearby bench. An old man with an older pipe strokes his long white beard; long white curl of smoke rises in antithesis. Joggers smile.

Sunday. Chess under the Cathedral. Click-clack of pieces on the cement tables. SMASH! the time clock – “check”! The old man doffs his cap to the young black man in his gaze. Respect. Flipside at the next table over. Third one down, it’s a mate between friends. St. Michael watches patiently.

Today…

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Just as well – Ollie probably wouldn’t have taken well to it.

I finally managed to convince one of the agencies I work with that the term “independent contractor” isn’t merely a figure of speech (that and the liberal use of the term “employee” – why do I keep running into this?!), so I was looking forward to doing some work from home and mixing in healthy doses of blogging. But fate, being the filthy whore she is, pulled another steamy week out of her ass.

That window fan I’ve had going non-stop for about three months now has simply been circulating oven-like heat throughout my living room, over the exposed chassis of my computer and two surprisingly warm monitors (programming with just one monitor is a sort of punishment), and right back at my puffy, bloated face. Oh yeah, and it’s allergy season again.

Anyhow, I finally ran out of excuses tonight and took it to the streets.

Not that it’s significantly cooler, mind you. You know what they say, it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. I mean, they say a lot of stuff that’s asinine, but in this case it’s true. The only reason it’s slightly cooler is because the sun’s gone down; we’re all pretty much still swimming.

But it’s kinda nice to be outside at night. Lotsa stuff happens that I probably wouldn’t ever get to experience during the day. To begin with, there’s all that night-time work that takes place so that when we wake up, parts of the city have magically changed.

That and trash collection from all the public bins. Maybe it’s the lack of surly morning people (having just lugged their reeking receptacles to the curb), but the garbage men (no offense, ladies, but I haven’t seen any females on the job), all seem to be a lot more casual and chatty. One of them happily took me through the steps of unlocking and emptying one of those newer, gray, pedestal jobs with the foot-pedal-operated flaps. I don’t care what anybody says, I find that kinda stuff fascinating. I always hope that, one day, this knowledge will be put to the test in some sort of high-stakes trivia contest.

Not everything that happens at night is that thought-provoking, though.

While passing my locally renowned strip joint (seedy hotel and reputation attached), I was accosted by a tall ruddy-faced man with a thick moustache, tiny feather-adorned hat, and protruding belly, pronouncing, “Ya! Ich bin Randolph!” I was the only one beneath the marquee with him so I thought he was addressing me, but almost immediately he turned away and gazed at the entrance to the peeler bar. And remained that way.

Huh.

Shortly after this I stopped by George’s for a bit of rotisserie chicken.

George’s is another well-known local spot (the original of a few others scattered around town). For a fair price you get enough chicken to feed a small family, their dog, and a few relatives overseas, and there’s always an entertaining crackhead or prostitute in there to distract you while you wait for your bird. Tonight it was a trio of bike cops, one of whom was especially vocal and all “buddy” this and “yeah, eh?” that.

Once the tall verbose black officer and his cadre exited, George leaned over the counter and asked, “You know who that was?”

“Nope.”

“You know that officer that had the bubbles blown at him by that girl?”

I thought for a bit – there are so many!

“You mean at the G20 protests?”

“Yeah! That’s the guy!”

“Ha! Officer Bubbles … you don’t say.”

Yes indeed, Officer Bubbles’ beat is my neighbourhood. Small town.

So that was this evening. Okay, I know … no gun fight or exploding car chase, but it’s a sight more interesting than my days have been lately. Not to say Glade didn’t have its interesting aspects, but watching sparkles fall down the screen gets a little tired after the fiftieth time. Throw in some soupy heat and you’ve practically got monotony.

Right now, the night’s where it’s at!

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We’re not parents but we’re all in this together…but not really.

- Kye Fox,
The Raisin Gang

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Check out our latest video, Thomas Jefferson: Magician

- Daniel Kurland,
The Raisin Gang

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So I’m terribly pleased to be back to be back to my regular Saturday routine, breakfast, coffee, and extracted sections of the voluminous Saturday Star: the news section, Insight, Weekend Living, and the stalwart comics. If someone were to finally remove the creator of the Family Circus blight, I’d be tempted to call it perfection.

Well, that and a few other unsightly blemishes I’ve noted inside the main news section, namely the condo ads.

Now, to be fair, I’m on record as saying that all the new development around Toronto is a good thing, and I stand by that. Even if some of the architecture is a little uninspired, the corollary benefits are great: lots of competition means lower prices, denser population means less destruction of green space, and being closer to where the action is can effectively remove the need for a car. I gave mine up two years ago and haven’t looked back – surprisingly hard to do without a rear-view mirror.

But the ads for these new condos, they’re just a bit on the weak side. Maybe it’s because I’m such an instantly critical jerkhole, but I immediately read between the lines, often without reading the lines themselves.

Take this ad for FIVE Condos, located at 5 Saint Joseph Street, not terribly far from my own groovy pad:

Aside from a hackneyed Flash website with a poorly designed menu (one of the few things I’m actually qualified to talk about), the print ad has a lot of information lurking just beneath the surface. Here’s what I read:

At least Bisha near the CBC building has some slickly done videos with some cool aerial shots of T-Dot, even though they remind me of the “improved” Mr. Plow commercial. The site also has hideous typography (check out the “Bisha is…” link — and try not to vomit), and a serious Flash programming error that causes my browser to crash:

TypeError: Error #1009: Cannot access a property or method of a null object reference.

at page2_fla::scrollbox_1/frame1()

Whoever wrote that sloppy code should be spanked mercilessly and without mirth.

The print ad ain’t a whole heck of a lot better:

In other words:

Mild edginess can turn into hardcore porn so fast.

And then there’s Chaz – nestled in between developments somewhere on Charles Street (the frickin’ website doesn’t even have a “music off” button let alone any actual information!)

Granted, whoever put the campaign together probably didn’t choose the name or the building design, but for me it has some immediate connotations.

Here’s how it’s pitched in print:

And here’s what jumps to mind:

Print isn’t really my thing so the gory details would be better left to professional designers, but had these companies had the good sense to work with someone like me (as do my current and most wise clients), simple turn-offs like cryptic Flash programming errors, contentless pages, or barfy text would’ve been avoided.

I mean, how much does a condo building go for these days … a few hundred mill.? A couple of grand thrown precipitously in my general direction would’ve produced a digital something that would make the investment seem a little less amateur-hour.

Plus, they’d get my twisted take on all the stuff they’d want to toss onto a printed page and so perhaps make some revisions.

Pretentious all-caps text on repeating, Macintosh-inspired pattern bars? That was so, like, ten years ago, and chicks with closed eyes and dishevelled hair were out of style a decade earlier. Also, please note – curate (v.): To mount, label, store, and protect museum specimens.

Blindfolded women certainly can be attention-grabbing, especially on posters wrapped around poles advertising gay nightclubs – not that there’s anything wrong with that. Unless you’re advertising a building. Ready? Or not.

And seriously … Chaz? That just sounds dirty. As in, “I totally chazzed all over that girl’s tits”. But if the name is sticking then at least the onus is on the campaign manager to try to class it up a bit, not present it as a boozer in the sky. And perhaps even pretend like temporal words have meaning: Chaz is happening! Now! Soon. Why not just say: Chaz happened tomorrow and will do yesterday as of next week in a fortnight. Duuuude.

Well, it’s almost the weekend again and I suspect more treasure will spill forth over my bacon and eggs. If they simply replaced filth like Family Circus or Cathy with this, I might cast a less critical gaze toward the rest of the paper and appreciate real humour where it belongs. At least Marmaduke is gone. At least that.

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I thought these people were meditating but no, they were reading books in the
shade on the grassy hill overlooking the boardwalk / lake ontario at balmy beach.

go dive off a stone pier.

More photos from Kew-Balmy Beach.
(down the street from where I live)

Kew Gardens.
Located off Queen Street with a paved path that leads directly to the boardwalk & lake.

summer day camp kids at the Dr. William D. Young Memorial.

Martin Goodman Trail.
This section runs in the middle between the boardwalk & the lake with a park on the other side of it, separating it from houses and a street. People usually bike, roller blade and run up to about Balmy Beach Club and then turn around and go back. Not sure how far people go but I’ve seen people go to at least Ashbridge’s Bay and back. You can actually take the trail much further than that, connecting to a path that can take you to another beach (Cherry Beach) or further along the lake shore farther west across the city. [Click for more information about Toronto Waterfront]

—

Read more form Amber Dawn at amber dawn’s non-paper journal.

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- Tom Conway, The Raisin Gang

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Bad Dog Theatre Company hosted a free improv show – probably the highlight of the festival for us.

The above photos from the Danforth don’t make the event look so dreary after all, but it was a feeling that I had while there. Jason said that he “felt drained, it was tiring” and it wasn’t from the walking – it was just the overall blah of it. It could have been that since Jason and I only bought what was essentially street meat (we can get gyros & chicken souvlaki in lots of places in this city all year round) perhaps the experience would have been different had we gone into one of the restaurants. But again, that’s something that we could do anytime all year, too. I think it was that there was just walking with nothing that interesting to see or do – the food vendors on the street seemed repetitive, people were quiet or sluggish, the stages didn’t have much going on and were quite spread apart, the carnival rides were the same fair rides that are at every festival. At least with the Beaches street fest there was live music almost every half block which made it immensely more interesting and likely added to the overall energetic feeling of the event.

It’s not to say I don’t recommend The Danforth – in fact, I think it’s yet another great part of the city to experience and it’s endeared to me from the stories my father told me of how he loved The Danforth when he was hanging out in Toronto growing up. Personally, I’d recommend that you take a walk on The Danforth on an evening at any other night of the year – go to one of the many fantastic restaurants, check out a poetry reading in the bars, see what’s going on when the festival isn’t. The feeling I got about the this festival was that the only truly unique thing about it is being able to walk in the middle of the road with lots of other people as opposed to being on the sidewalk.

After ‘Taste on the Danforth’…
We walked from Broadview & Danforth to Queen Street East & Woodbine. Since there didn’t seem much to see or do on the Danforth we just kept walking on past the festival. I figured we could torture ourselves further with a long walk home. I would’ve loved to have made it the entire way but I was wearing sandals with a bit of heel and they are most definitely not conducive to walking such a ways so by the time we hit Woodbine & Queen, I was ready for a streetcar. Jason was exhausted too (and in fact didn’t even want to walk as much as we did) but we both took photos which helped us along. (Tallman loaned me his Nikon, by the way, which made the quality of my photos much crisper than what my lil’ FujiFilm point & shoot is capable).

—
Read more from Amber Dawn at amber dawn’s non-paper journal.

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Unfortunately for me, getting anywhere near the water either meant a slog out west to the man-made beach near Bathurst and Queen’s Quay, or east to Cherry Beach, home of the sandy syringe.

For a while there were rumours of a new faux beach being constructed near my neck of the woods at the foot of Lower Jarvis –  Sugar Beach — but this was, after all, a government project and the expected summer 2010 completion date couldn’t be trusted.

And then, in a sure sign that the universe is soon to end, I heard on my morning radio show that Sugar Beach was open for business. So I put on my most elegant thong, grabbed a towel, and headed down.

On the way there I couldn’t help but hearken back to Toronto’s past — how people used to refresh themselves in the waters of Lake Ontario, in style, and with class.

Prior to the forties it was considered improper to wade out into the lake, clothed or otherwise. The practice referred to as “wetting Willy” (William being a common name), being heavily frowned upon.

In fact, even walking in the rain without a “Jimmy Hat” (another popular name), would likely get one ostracised.

These days, no one bats an eyelash at even the most obscene public display of flesh.

Back in the day, the only acceptable way to enjoy the waters was in a canoe known as the “Long John”. It was common to spend an afternoon racing with friends, paddling one’s Long John until “a mighty foam frothed at her head”.

Ironically, it would be years until women were welcomed to the activity – even the deck hand who swabbed your vessel would be a man.

Anyone wetting Willy without paddling a Long John or displaying their seafaring affiliation would be told to “beat it” off the beach lest they wished a taste of the policeman’s night stick.

Nowadays, it seems, they’ll let any old dirty dog on the beach with narry a copper in sight.

In the past, police patrolled beaches regularly, warning people of the omnipresent danger of crabs, the potential of infected gashes, and other hazards as part of the public Sandy Traps and Dangers (STD) program.

A mere decade later, “freeing Willy” became all the rage. Police no longer beat anyone off the beach and Long Johns were mostly relegated to enthusiast seamen.

The only shipping one’s likely to see at Sugar Beach these days is the massive Redpath container ship bringing in raw sugar to be processed in the giant refinery across the way. Oh sure the air may literally taste sweet when the ships unload their cargo, but does that sweeten the otherwise putrid stench of modern humanity baking in the sun?

Although the historical STD program was scrapped, Jimmy Hats have stuck around with modern names like raincoats, slicks, rubbers, or simply just protection — yet standing under a drizzle is hardly considered deviant anymore; neither is getting pounded by the waves — you just grab a board and ride them!

Modern urban beaches try to make up for the absence of decency with fancy abstract art. But letting women swim in the water? With their monthly … cycles?!

Adoption to aquatic activities by women was swift – like fish to water, one might say. Numerous all-female Long John paddling teams were formed, among them famous first-place trophy winners the Omely Oars, named after team captain Harriete Homely (the “H” was dropped in a playful take on her British heritage).

Okay, maybe I’m going a bit overboard. It’s not like you can swim at Sugar Beach anyway. On the south end is a narrow boardwalk and then a drop into the lake and busy shipping lanes. On the east is the Redpath sugar refinery and yet another steep drop into fishy waters. To the north is a road, and to the west is the new Corus Entertainment building.

The sand is there, as are the deck chairs and the fixed umbrellas, but that refreshing dip in the lake is absent. The option to endure painful blisters after a swim is simply not there, so calling it a beach might be a bit of a stretch. In fact, the only access to water of any kind comes via a series of sidewalk-embedded jets that the kids monopolize.

But, as a place to hunker down with a book for a few hours, or as a place to bury your feline business, it’s not too bad. And if there’s a more appropriate place to sun my flossed butt cheeks in Toronto, I haven’t found it!

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As the name implies, the show is nothing more than one long, continuous, first-person steadicam shot of downtown Toronto streets set to dreamy jazz. I’m not sure if the purpose of the show was ever made clear — Was it simply filler for that lonely 4 a.m. time slot? Was it a form of video sleep aid? Was it interwoven with subliminal suggestions intended to keep you enthralled? (I could never peel my eyes away!)

Apparently only one episode of “Night Walk” was ever shot, but follow-up programs such as “Night Ride” continued the tradition in the same vain.

Unfortunately, Global stopped broadcasting these programs some time ago, but I’m of the opinion that it’s about time they were brought back. Perhaps on this very blog.

(How many now-absent Toronto landmarks can you spot?)

(“Night Ride” was a bit more my speed.)

(When you can’t decide whether to walk or drive, call it “Night Moves”.)

(After the commercial break.)

(Night night!)

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Oh, we already have the Greasy Danfurd now, in case you didn’t know, and it’s already something of a classic. It has hairy bare chests, gold medallions, girls names Roula / Toula / Voula / Koula / etc.-oula, and small, innocuous-looking elderly men that you just know are mob leaders of some sort.

It’s the Danforth, of course! And on the Danforth is that yearly tradition, the Taste of the Danforth. That’s the “Danfurd” part, and the Greeks are the “Greasy”, as in “Greece-y”.

It’s a theory, but one that I think will bear out. I believe the same’s happened with other foods / cultures. Take my favourite overpriced sourpuss, the passion fruit, for example.

In Mandarin, it’s called Bai-Shiang-Guo (pronounced like buy-young-grow), probably not an originally Chinese name. With the exception of the guo part (which means fruit), it sounds an awful lot like “passion” — buy-sh-young; no? Phonetically it makes sense. Literally it means “fruit of a hundred aromas” (bai=hundred, shiang=odour, smell, aroma), which mostly misses the horniness connotation: “Here, darling, have a smelly fruit.” Kinda like the Japanese word for chocolate – cho-ko-re-to – something to do with small cold cups of sugar. Where da cocoa at?!

So my theory is that the current “Greek Danforth” will be conflated somehow in the future and the original meaning, along with the original festival, will be lost in the annals of time like some kinda ancient civilization for which I have no example.

And I just know that some snot-nosed punk is gonna try to convince me that the Greasy Danfurd is actually named after some guy named Danfurd who was the first to put French fries in his Gyros; Gyros, of course, being named after Venetian flying machines; Venetians, if you read your history, being blind due to staring into the sun all day — just like Da Vinci, the first Gyro captain, original sky-bound blind dude, and pommes-frites-eating tickler of French fancies. That’s why he’s on display at the Louvre, naturellement.

It’s already kind of happening. I mean, the Danforth is still very much Greek-central, but the food festival is increasingly being infiltrated by unrelated participants – local colleges trying to recruit stooges, soy beverage pushers trying to get you to “enjoy” their samplers with your side of fatty lamb, even the cops trying to rustle up meaty volunteers. The point of Taste was for the local restaurant owners to set up in front of their shops and give the public cheap samplings of their Grecian delights. The Gyros, the Souvlaki, the Tsatsiki, they’re all still there — but for how long?

Well, this officially marks the second TCL anniversary at the eatfest so we’ll at least be able to mark the decline of this fascinating civilization. I mean, I’m sure it’ll be around for some time to come, but I’m equally sure it’ll be bastardized into something we might not readily recognize. “Greece? Nah, don’t like it. Olivia Newton-John grates on my nerves.”

Last year, as I recall, it was a lot more festival-y; kids’ rides, slides, menacing clowns. So this year I managed to talk my mom, sis, and her minions into coming down for the afternoon, only to crush their spirits with a lacklustre Taste. The weather didn’t even have the decency to stay respectable.

I should’ve known something was up when Thai food started showing up along the street. Oh well. At least Toronto has a bazillion other food festivals to attend; shame but I think Taste has been on the grill too long.

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Okay?

Good.

So let’s talk about this concept of the straight and narrow, shall we?

What a load. Seriously. They (I’ll explain who they are below), had a chance to convince me that being a law-abiding, tax-paying, run-of-the-mill citizen is what’s best. What they ended up doing instead is convincing me that the law has nothing to do with justice, rules and morality are unrelated, and that anyone trying to convince you otherwise is either hopelessly ignorant or in on the racket.

The racket is, of course, the money game, extending all the way down from the corporations, through their (sometimes our) subservient government, and onto us minions, all upheld with thinly veiled lies and hypocrisy. Oh, and police, operating under a ridiculously precedent-laden law.

“Hang on just a second!,” you might say, “weren’t you poking fun at the G20 protesters for standing up against exactly this?!”

Nope. It wasn’t the message I had a problem with, it was the method. Breaking a few windows and spray painting illegible slogans is idiotic. Blocking the streets to prevent fellow citizens from using them is childish. And if you read a newspaper, or have half a brain, you’ll note that Starbucks and the major banks et al. suffered not one iota. Big surprise!

But I’ve done my fair share of G20 railing myself, plenty around this blog to back me up on that.

And the G20, really, is a perfect example of corporate dominion over government. All Torontonians are acutely aware of the ridiculous security measures the G20 were provided with during that eventful weekend, something that would never be extended to individual heads of state. When the Queen comes to visit people can run up to her and shake her hand for heaven’s sake! And the G20 isn’t a governmental body, or a policy body, or anything of the sort. It’s 100% about money. It’s about financial stability – how to make life comfortable for those for whom life is already too comfortable.

To be fair, this isn’t anything new. I mean, how long have bankers, financial analysts, and all these overfed con men (the reason markets require confidence to operate), been telling us to be frugal with our money in order to make modest gains through savings or measly investment accounts. Right … and where exactly are they urging us to save / invest our money? Their banks, credit unions, investments funds, and so on. Shocker, that one. And I wonder if these same people would ever put their money where their mouths are. You know, be satisfied with a 0.01% compound rate with a $50 monthly fee for the privilege.

And, really, have a stroll down to King and Bay downtown one day and have a look around. I dare you to argue that frugality and savings and all the other bullshit we’re still being shovelled built all that.

Like I said, you either have to be ignorant or in on the racket.

The concept of profit is another one that’s deeply flawed. The bank / business establishment would have you believe that profits are the end-all be-all. After all, don’t they constantly demand profits each and every quarter? That’s kinda like you walking into your boss’ office every three months and demanding a twenty-percent raise (for doing nothing, I should add). Your boss would probably laugh at you, right? Yet his / her boss expects exactly this – at least. So, every quarter, the people at the top make more and more while you get to wait a whole year before finding out that you have to “tighten your belt” because profits are down. Not that the company is losing money, let’s be clear – in that case you’d be laid off. They’re just not making as much as they’d like to, and since their ravenous mouths must be fed first (because they’ve obviously done the most to earn it), it comes out of your paycheque.

Yup, profit is a set of scales. If someone has a lot, someone else must necessarily have little. Or the government prints more money, thereby devaluing it and starting massive inflation. That’s no good for anyone so the status quo stays. And if it was just a little profit, as the same two-faced bankers / investors / financiers tell us to expect, it wouldn’t really be a big deal; those who lose in order for others to gain wouldn’t lose that much. But we all know that it’s never enough – they’ll take your fingernails if they think they can get two pennies for them.

And they’re insidious about it too.

Have you tried to rent a hotel room in, say, the last thirty years or so without a credit card? Damn near impossible. Last time I tried, it went a little something like this:

“Why do I need a credit card to rent a hotel room?”

“We need to make an imprint just in case there are damages or extra charges.”

“So you’d arbitrarily charge any amount on the card? What if my limit is two-thousand and I do four grand in damages?”

“We’d rather you didn’t, sir.”

“So would I, but I’m trying to make a point here.”

“No, we would only go up to $500. Our insurance would have to cover the rest.”

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Okay, here you go, five-hundred in crispy new bills. You can hold on to this deposit and I’ll pick it up tomorrow once you say the room’s kosher.”

“Sorry, sir, we need a credit card imprint.”

“But I’m offering you legal tender here, up to the limit that you just stated. Money up front and no extra processing fees for you. Better than going through the credit card company if I wreck the place, so what’s the problem?”

“Sorry but that’s our policy.”

End of conversation. You must do business with Visa or Mastercard or whoever if you want to stay in a hotel.

And it’s the same with the government.

My sister recently got a traffic ticket, as we all do from time to time. Payment instructions for credit cards only. No cheques, no cash. No shit. Some government agencies no longer accept legal tender as payment. In other words, government won’t accept government-issued money. You must do business with a credit card company, or a bank (not a government entity last time I checked!), yet you can’t pay using a form of payment issued by the payee.

And this wouldn’t be particularly bothersome to me except for the outrageous fees that are foisted on us by these institutions. In this regard, any fees are outrageous. If we want a job, if we want to conduct affairs with the government, if we want to just live our lives, we are beholden to unrelated private enterprise and are charged for doing so. In other words, we are forced to give up our money to private interests by law.

Mind you, that doesn’t stop the government from pulling its own tricks in lock-step. Most Ontarians have recently started enjoying the new Harmonized Sales Tax (HST), combined from the previous Goods and Services Tax (GST) and a federal tax. For a lot of things this hasn’t meant much change, but new items were introduced for taxation so that the government could misappropriate even more of our money. We’re now required to pay 13% on funerals, for example – assholes won’t even let you die in peace.

Then there’s the Eco Fee that was introduced along with the new tax, and it shows just what a travesty all of this is. No level of government seems to know exactly how much stores should be charging, but that didn’t stop them from passing the law anyway (and then temporarily rescinding it after discovering that they didn’t really know how their own fucking law worked!). Had we been overpaid, we would of course be required to return the money. Giant private enterprise, of course, is under no such similar obligation.

Stores happily started to charge anywhere from a buck to five dollars on everything that might fall under the “hazardous waste” category, the excuse being that the fee would be used in the safe disposal and recycling of said hazardous waste. But you have to bring the waste to a drop-off site yourself. Okay. And what the fuck are you bringing back anyways? The fee covers stuff like dishwashing soap and paints and other consumable stuff – things you use. The soap goes down the drain, the paint goes on the wall. What you’re bringing back are empty recyclable containers. So, you get to pay for recycling something that you have to bring back that, really, you’re not bringing back because you’ve used it up.

And the HST is applied on top of the fee! It’s called a fee so they can put a tax on it since it’s still illegal to tax a tax – at least for now.

I know, I’m already bald from all the hair-pulling.

And this, this is what I get for forking over half my paycheque to the government?! All these taxes that we’re all paying into because, supposedly, they’re being used for our benefit? Yeah, I’ve had some experience with these so-called “benefits”, I take the ancient transit system every day that I support through both orifices, I ride my bike on the pot-holed roads that I also pay for, and I walk on the broken sidewalks that come out of my pockets. And you know what? I call bullshit. They’re fucking lying to us and stealing from us – it’s no more complicated than that.

This is why people who say “there are no certainties in life but death and taxes” deserve to be slugged. They’ve basically equated a natural process that’s an actual certainty to something completely artificial and potentially escapable. And these people usually say it with a smile and a shrug, urging you to accept their wonderfully lackadaisical take on the rape we’re all experiencing. They’re either aggravatingly ignorant or in on the racket.

People who tell me that I need to express myself at the ballot box get a wallop as well. There is not a single party out there that doesn’t perpetuate this shit. PC, Liberal, NDP, doesn’t matter. I’ve voted for all of them and they’re all assholes once they get into power. For fuck’s sake, it’s only been four years, are people’s memories that short? They’re all crooks!

And to all the people who think you can make a difference with your dollar – have you not been paying attention? Look, let’s say you buy at the local mom ‘n pop. Okay, so there’s a little community benefit, true. But – you pay taxes. They pay taxes. You buy brand-name products, profits of which go right up to the behemoth corporations in control. What? You only buy hand-made? And prithee tell, where did the raw materials for those hand-made products come from? There are only a handful of things, usually agricultural, that you can buy that are partially outside of the system of corporate control, and Monsanto is trying to make sure you get fucked on those too – taxes not included. Basically, you’re simply shuffling around pieces of paper, allowing mom and pop to pay rent, stay afloat, exist for another month. In the grand scheme of things, you might as well be at Walmart buying a $7 Coke (taxes and fees included) with your credit card.

Don’t even get me started about Apple.

Welcome to the corporate dystopia of 2010 – came a bit sooner than I thought.

But there is hope.

The one thing that I find laughable in the G20 protesters’ arguments is the thought that there are a handful of megalomaniacal men sitting at the top of the food chain pulling all the strings and reaping all the benefits. Megalomaniacs exist by the thousands if not millions – we’ve all probably met one or two. You know, God’s gift to this earth, can do no wrong, etc.

It’s clear that these people won’t stand to be anything less than number-one asshole, and since there are so many of them, it’s a constant climb over the bodies of predecessors. Yesterday’s top dog is today’s dog food. So while I’m certain that megalomaniacs exist at high positions, they tend to do so only for brief periods. That alone could help to explain why the need for quick profits is so prevalent – they know their time is limited so they’d better scrounge up as much as they can. As the world’s population increases, this will only become more tumultuous; law of averages.

So I’m generally unconcerned about any singular overarching regime controlling the globe. Even if we ended up with one world corporation / government, there’d be too much infighting to make it the Orwellian 1984 that so many people fear. Besides, such broad-ranging, active surveillance requires that 50% of the population is being watched while the other 50% watches. After all, those not being watched are potential wrenches in the machinery – the criminals, saboteurs, and everything else that Big Brother can’t abide. Who’s left to run things? Nah, the numbers just don’t work.

The system we’re involved in, as I mentioned, requires confidence. It’s a con, a ruse – make-believe. Money is a mere representation. There used to be a time when a dollar bill was a promissory note; you could go to the central bank and exchange it for a dollar’s worth of gold. Now it’s merely a concept. If you don’t believe it’s worth a dollar’s worth of goods, services, or whatever you plan to exchange it for – it’s not! You sure as hell can’t exchange it for gold at any bank. Only coins, in fact, have intrinsic value, and they’re slowly being phased out. Paper money is probably next.

It’s the same with law. Law was at one time a standardized representation of justice; you kill someone, you get punished. It used to make sense. However, because the law needs to apply to everyone equally, every idiotic judgement got thrown into the books as precedent. If a judge ruled a specific way, a future judge is duty-bound to rule the same way; the law must not only be fair but must be seen to be fair — sure you’ve heard that one. That’s why people are more and more frequently getting off on technicalities and precedent. The hubris of the legal system and its judges specifically is, ultimately, the instrument of its own demise.

While these systems are imploding on themselves, it’s incumbent on us to lose our fear of them. And maybe pick up some useful trades while we’re at it. Big Brother isn’t watching. Those cameras aren’t for our safety or protection. The police are enforcing law, not justice. Money is a suggestion, credit cards are an insult, and government is a subsidiary.

Look, I’m not gonna tell you to break the law. The law insists that I don’t. But when you start to look at the whole ball of wax for what it is, you start to get the idea that maybe a little side-stepping is in order. That’ll be my excuse when I’m before the courts.

Get off the straight and narrow if you want to live as anything more than a subservient stooge. Do it to a lesser degree for the benefit of your kids. Oh, the lofty will try to convince you of how wrong you are for doing so (usually while doing exactly the same thing), but don’t let their crap fly unless you’re planning to let it hit the fan. As the bard once said, “don’t believe the hype!”

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At around 9 p.m. on Saturday night I started to get a migraine. No biggie, I thought, usually lasts a few hours, I’ll be right as rain tomorrow. By 2 a.m. I’d emptied the contents of my stomach from the pain, couldn’t quite see out of my left eye, and just wasn’t having a good time. Not good at all.

If you’re not sure if you’ve experienced a migraine, there’s a real simple test. If you stand up quickly or do anything to make your blood pressure jump suddenly, and your headache gets worse, it’s a vascular headache. That’s vascular from the Roman word “vascus” meaning “hurts more when you stand up quickly”. Some people claim that it has something to do with circulation of blood but I wouldn’t put much stock in that.

In any event, migraines have nothing to do with blood pressure so it doesn’t matter what you do. They’re a weird beast. Sometimes they’re quick, sometimes they last a bit longer. For me it was sometime around 3 p.m. the following day when it finally started to let up. Usually I’m a cranky fuck if I don’t get enough sleep but I gotta tell ya, I didn’t mind so much this particular Sunday.

I spent the rest of the day on the sofa watching bad movies and enjoying the fuzzy afterglow, the “aura”. And that was my weekend. How was yours?

Now I know, I’ve been told that if you take Ibuprofen early enough you can sometimes stave off a migraine. That’s if you can do it early enough, if you get enough of a warning, which I didn’t. And I find the statement a bit suspect anyways – Ibuprofen is a NSAID, Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug, meaning it reduces inflammation without the use of steroids (still often used for this purpose). If your brain has a bit too much pressure on it, as is the case with vascular headaches, it works beautifully. For migraines, though, I haven’t had much luck. Ergotamine, a blood-vessel constrictor, is also something I’ve tried that has never done shit. Caffeine I take in healthy doses on a daily basis so that headache treatment is also a dud. Acetaminophen is a joke.

Basically, there’s not much to do but wait for the lead weight on your head to dislodge of its own accord.

As much as migraines suck, I do occasionally encounter another type of head – thing – that’s thought to be associated with migraines but much less sucky: Alice in Wonderland Syndrome. Never heard of it? That’s cool, no one I’ve ever described it to has either.

It usually starts with the same “aura” as a migraine but then, instead of pain, I start to experience weird things happening to my body, usually hands and feet. They grow big. Like, massive – the size of my bed or even bigger. Not really, mind you, they stay the same size, but they feel gigantic.

At the same time I find myself staring into a corner of the room wondering how it managed to get so impossibly far away. As a kid, when it happened more frequently, the door to my room would seem to be miles in the distance – somehow still the same size — but much farther away than usual.

You see where the name comes from now. And no little pill or bottle makes it go away. The technical terms are “macropsia” (feeling/seeing larger) and “micropsia” (feeling/seeing smaller), both of which can happen with this neato condition.

No, really, when it happened to me as a kid I thought it was neat. I would hardly say I “suffered” from the condition – cursory glances at my extremities would always assure me that they just felt ginormous. My mom would come into the room and with one deft footstep managed to cover a couple of miles. And it didn’t impair my movement so that didn’t bother me. In fact, to this day I think it would be kinda neat to temporarily have oversize hands to slap people with. The faraway stuff, though, I could take or leave – it’s just disorienting.

Alice in Wonderland Syndrome has been associated with psychoactive drugs (pretty sure I wasn’t tripping out as a kid so I’d rule that out), Epstein-Barr Virus or mono (not to the best of my knowledge), migraines (the most likely candidate), and brain tumors (I sure as hell hope not!)

For most of my life I had no idea that this even existed as a clinical condition let alone in other people. By pure accident I stumbled onto a discussion group dedicated solely to AIWS and discovered I wasn’t the only one. Most of the people there were discussing how either they or their kids were “suffering” from AIWS but I found it difficult to jump on that train. I mean, if I had it day-in-day-out then, yeah, that could become cumbersome. But for me it’s a sometimes maybe kinda deal.

Compared to a regular migraine, I’ll take AIWS any day of the week.

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It’s just been hard to focus on the blog with so many dark clouds hanging over my head and I didn’t want to continue to dump all my misfortune online. I’m sure you’re already well aware of my fruitless search for a job, my growing debt, yadda yadda. The particulars of my daily existence didn’t really seem blog-worthy, you know?

I was starting to feel a lot like the biblical Lazarus there for a while. Not the resurrection guy though. Maybe he is the same dude – Jesus did, after all, raise his old buddy from the dead some time later – but most scholars think that they’re two different people.

The Lazarus I’m referring to was a beggar so pitiful that even the mangy street dogs licked the open sores on his feet. Me, I had my sores attended to by Ollie. Well, not so much sores as acne from a miserly diet, but pretty much the same thing. During the past three weeks I’ve subsisted on instant noodles (when I was flush with cash), numerous variations on white rice (I can now cook rice like it’s nobody’s business!), and occasionally treated myself to a can of Cott Cola on festive Saturday evenings (the royalty of “value” beverages).

I was shocked by homeless peoples’ disposable income, enough for a fun evening on the town with a bottle of Chinese cooking wine. I didn’t dare indulge in such government-sponsored decadence (for which I did not qualify).

The time of sores and value beverages, however, seems to finally be behind me. Last week, as if by some biblical miracle, the skies opened up on my arid life and poured forth job offers, some of which have sprouted into contract jobs. Like the other Lazarus, I am born anew.

No, really, my experiences over the past number of months have been transformative and in a weird way I’m almost thankful for them. I’ve shed much of the naiveté of my past life. I suppose I could be bitter and resentful about what happened, about government (I haven’t even begun to mention the shit they pull), about the way business regards us plebs, about the callousness and selfishness of society in general, about even those who once claimed to love me. You’ve probably read about some of this and judging by your responses, I have the right to be pissed off.

But did Jesus not say, “fuck those assholes”? I needed some time to consider the wisdom of those words, and after being offline for a while I finally get it. The message has touched my heart.

So no, I’m not dead. Quite the contrary, in fact. It’s a little hard getting back into the schedule so don’t expect any miracles just yet. But you know what they say, the early bird gets the strategic advantage. Plus, they insist on me showing up at 9 a.m. at my freelance gig uptown. It’s getting me into better habits and takes me past Mount Pleasant Cemetery, home to snobby joggers, the dead, and the imagery you see in this post.

It should be no surprise that I’m not thrilled or excited to be back at work. As jobs go, so far at least, it’s not that bad. Unfortunately, however, there are certain irregularities popping up already and it’s only my second day.

Not my first day either, though. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. And just like Lazarus, I’m rising from the dead to feast on their brains!

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Here’s the Newfoundlander theme: Right On.

Right On

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Bicycling in Toronto has been contentious issue for some time. It really came to head just a little under a year ago when Michael Bryant, then the Attorney General for Ontario, had his run-in Darcy Allan Sheppard, then a general asshole. And bike courier.

The story, if you’re not familiar with it, goes like this: Bryant was driving home in his convertible with his wife beside him after an evening out when Sheppard, drunk and belligerent — for quite a few intersections and toward more than a few other drivers, a pattern of behaviour he regularly engaged in — decided that he’d had enough of cars. Or something. It’s unlikely that what he did had any real reason behind it.

It began, more or less, with Sheppard pulling in front of Bryant’s convertible and falling off his bike (not being knocked off, as was repeatedly suggested) . Maybe he was smashed off his gourd, maybe just trying to pick a fight, maybe both. Witnesses report that at this point Sheppard was screaming obscenities and basically acting like a raving lunatic, something he’d been visibly doing all the way down the street prior to reaching Bryant’s car. You can almost smell the halo above Sheppard’s head, can’t you?

This whole interaction can be seen on somewhat grainy closed-circuit footage, with detractors pointing out how Bryant “rolls toward Sheppard almost immediately”, ignoring the fact that Sheppard darts in front of the car well before it moves, in under a second, and is heavily drunk (according to later toxicology tests), and ready to fight the moment he gets up. Basically, the cycling world’s version of a saint.

Have a look for yourself:

For a moment the convertible lurches forward, something Bryant blames on the sudden alarming nature of the situation, and something that Sheppard supporters just can’t seem to come to grips with. Why would someone be alarmed and temporarily lose control of their vehicle with a bellowing maniac by their side? Why didn’t Bryant sit there and take it or get out of the car and confront Sheppard? With your wife by your side, after all, these are the “sensible” solutions.

Remember, the next time a cyclists cuts you off, get out of your vehicle or step off the curb and beat the living snot out of them – it’s what they would want you to do, it’s the wisest choice.

Supporters maintain that Sheppard was then “pushed” under the car, along with his bike, for almost a block. After which he miraculously jumped up and gave chase to the convertible on his bike, which, despite being dragged under a car for a block, was miraculously unharmed. Miracle upon miracle performed by Saint Sheppard.

In any event, poor innocent Sheppard managed to catch up to Bryant and lunged at him, managing only to grab the side rear-view mirror. At this point, Bryant decided he’d had enough and he floored it, shouting at Sheppard to let go. The cyclist, in a fit of benevolence, vocally refused to let go and the car travelled roughly two blocks with Bryant swerving onto the sidewalk trying to scrape Sheppard off the side of his car. Sheppard eventually let go only after hitting a tree and, in the process, cracking his skull and dying.

Not a good night out.

In the end the charges against Bryant were entirely dropped. Between the videotape evidence and the eyewitness accounts, there just wasn’t enough evidence to charge him with anything. Even after the intense media scrutiny he received (especially as Attorney General), lawyers on both sides agreed that Bryant had done the best he could, given the circumstances. Sheppard supporters said he got off easy because of his high profile. After all, the prosecution wanted nothing more than to just toss their hands in the air and walk away, as prosecution are wont to do. Even Sheppard’s dad said that this was the correct outcome and that he didn’t blame Bryant.

Poor Saint Sheppard, murdered by Bryant in cold blood. “No justice, no peace!”, wept Sheppard’s “family” of fellow couriers, all upstanding citizens in the own right, as they downed bottle after bottle of beer and liquor on the same street corner on which Sheppard died. Then they cycled off, back into the “meat grinder” of the city, angrier than ever, ready to confront all the four-wheeled murderers out there.

The reason I bring this up is to demonstrate the type of mentality (or lack of), that some cyclists carry around. Not all, mind you, but some – usually the most vocal and abrasive ones. And it’s clearly an adversarial attitude, to put it mildly. The cyclist I refer to in the first paragraph would probably fall into this category.

Obviously this guy is a regular two-wheeled warrior, ready to take on the next car that gets in his way. To his credit, he was wearing a helmet and safety gear. He wasn’t actually allowed to be cycling down the middle lane on Jarvis Street, at least not yet. The project to turn a part of the street to bike-only is in the works, but it won’t be the centre lane, and it isn’t ready yet anyways. That didn’t stop this fellow from cursing cars that “cut him off”, and it didn’t stop him from blocking traffic for some time to describe how cars “always” push him off the road (and how they insist on taking up the whole lane).

He was more than happy to stand in the middle of the road, in a section that would otherwise be the left-turn portion, while chatting with me and inviting other cyclists to ride down the “glorious” middle lane – actually insisting that they break the law for their own safety. To be fair, I shouldn’t have been in the lane either, but then again I wasn’t inviting fellow pedestrians to join me in the middle of a busy street based on my own faulty understanding of the law. Plus, I got the hell out of there as soon as this guy finished describing what assholes motorists were while he went on to have more interactions with them just a bit further on.

If you look closely in the photos you’ll notice that there’s a singular traffic light posted above the middle lane. This is used to determine traffic flow; you can drive it one way in the mornings, the other in the afternoons. Today it was closed in both directions as part of the new lane construction. Not opened in either direction.

But since bicycles are exempt from the law, it’s obvious how anyone could make the mistake. Even simple logical deduction can be ignored; you know, like why they would put bicycles in the middle lane instead of the much-more-sensible side lanes — which is where the actual lanes will be. Yes, why expend one bit of energy on rational thought or an attempt to show any consideration for anyone else – fellow cyclists, pedestrians, and especially motorists — when you’re on a bicycle?

Yes, that is sarcasm, and it exemplifies the type of thinking that some cyclists adopt. But even this is too much for some people, like the cyclist I later saw going in the opposite direction, also using the centre lane illegally, assuming he also had the right of way around cars turning left and, while he was at it, also going through a red and nearly colliding with cars (screaming at them, of course). And why even bother wearing a helmet at that point, right? I know it sounds cruel but I wish that a car had hit this guy, just to take the asshole off the road. A menace, not only to himself, but to cars who have to swerve to avoid him, and also to pedestrians. Many cyclists still maintain that hitting someone on a bike can’t cause serious injury or even death. Nothing human-powered could possibly be dangerous.

Basically the attitude is: cyclists own the roads, they have the right of way regardless (because they’re “more vulnerable” – my favourite argument), laws are only for motorized vehicles, and any evidence that bikes are dangerous should be ignored. I’ve tried to challenge a few cyclists with this – news reports of people being hit by bikes and then dying from their injuries – but it’s hard to argue facts when the response is “fuck you, you Fascist pig!” And that’s one of the more rational conversations I’ve had.

It’s kind of like arguing with the G20 “protesters” who maintain that they should be allowed to sit in the middle of a city street because it’s “their right” to “express” themselves. Fuck everyone else’s rights, especially the police because they’re “not human” (no kidding, this is actually what they said). “Wah wah wah! My daddy never loved me! Authorities are fascists! Wah wah wah!”  Exactly the same thing children do in stores when their parents refuse to buy them the toys they want – stomp their feet, then sit down in the middle of the aisle, pout, and scream about how unfair life is. At a certain point, the best thing parents can do is to introduce the kids to the back of their hand.

No small surprise, then, that I saw my fair share of cyclists facing off against G20 riot police. “No justice, no peace!”, they cried as they rallied with groups against Israeli apartheid. It’s the same infantile “me me me” attitude, it just happens to be on two wheels. And what it needs is a good strong smack upside the head. For starters. You want something to really cry about, you whiny little shits? How about some tear gas?

But I’m getting off topic here.

What makes the situation especially taxing is that Jarvis happens to be one of the major north-south thoroughfares in the city – one of the major reasons for the middle lane bi-directionality. It’s a pretty busy street on most days but now, in order to accommodate the children, that lane will be lost. Presumably it’ll be erased and half-width bike lanes added to each side of the street.

As an occasional cyclists I’m not at all convinced it’s necessary. As someone who lives a block away and sees the kind of bicycle traffic that goes through there every day, I’m even less convinced. But the widdle babies have whined their way up to a “green” City Hall and, despite all evidence to the contrary, have managed to convince them of the need for new bike lanes.

Plus, someone got it in their head that cyclists actually obey the rules of the road – that they’ll stick to the new bike lanes, that they’ll stop on reds, that they won’t cut across four lanes of traffic just because they can and, heaven forbid, should they get hit while egregiously breaking the law, that they won’t then attack the driver who is “always” in the wrong.

Is it too late to bring the stocks back into circulation? You know, stick the dipshits into the public square for a sweet shower of rotten veggies and fruits any time they break the law in a dangerous manner. Everyone can get involved, and if the crime was particularly selfish, perhaps the pits could be left in. Having a “peachy” afternoon could be a very positive thing.

Combine that with some sort of licensing system and we’ve got ourselves a winner. I’m sure the little brats will pout, stomp their feet, and scream for a little while, but you know what they say: spare the rod, spoil the child. The streets are no place for kids to be playing around on anyways.

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Okay, it’s now been well over two weeks and I’m just about ready to put this puppy to bed.

But before I do, let me round out the G20 weekend for you, dear reader. Let’s start with the Black Bloc, the attention whores of the summit.  While I was trying to figure out who they are and where they came from, a few glaringly obvious pieces of evidence jumped out at me with a, “zut alors!”

I’m ninety-nine percent convinced that the Bloc and their comrades are Quebec separatists.

For starters, you may remember some of the shit that the FLQ — Canada’s very own home-grown terrorist organization — got up to during the sixties, demonstrating that they were more than ready to use violence, kidnapping, and murder to achieve their ends. A few broken windows and graffiti, really, wouldn’t be beyond the pale.

As “socialists”, they easily take offense to anything even resembling capitalism, so their presence at the G20 riots wouldn’t be at all out of character. Finding day-glo stickers attached to vandalism such as in the above photo (not even bothering to deliver an English version of the statement), well, that’s a pretty strong message that these folks were from out of town.

Now, do you remember the two young vandals trying to torch the CBC News van in the previous post? Well, they were part of this group:

These folks were appropriately dressed as unthinking zombies and, apart from readily engaging in vandalism, were spreading all sorts of strange mixed messages. Maybe it’s a language barrier thing. The banner above, for example – does it mean that they’re waging war against truth? In other words, spreading lies? And what about the miniature casket they were carrying around with them for effect?

In case you can’t read it, the writing down the side says, “DEMOCRATIE”. That’s French, as in Québécois, for “DEMOCRACY”. Again, I’m not sure what was meant by this – does it symbolize the death of democracy? As in, they’re mourning for it? Or are they the ones who want to bring about its demise? In hindsight, the brain-dead getups were bang-on.

But I think the most damning piece of evidence was a leaflet (along with some other excellent literature), I received from a self-styled “Marxist” a few days earlier at the Allan Gardens rally (where we can also see black-clad, French-speaking “anticapitalistes”):

To me, this kinda ties it all together with a nice little bow. First we have the “Revolutionary Communist Party” identification front and center. Communism, Socialism, FLQ, pee pee poo, same same.

Although the RCP betray some of their earlier FLQ ideals by actually including English here, they nonetheless put their French acronym first in the website address and, lo and behold, they’re based out of Montreal, Quebec! And have a look at the photograph they chose to accompany the leaflet; golly gee, don’t they look exactly like Toronto’s own Black Bloc goofbags? I’m guessing that I’ll get a good gander at them in mid-December, and I’m further guessing that I won’t be a bit surprised at what I see.

Even the name Black Bloc – spelled without a “k”; the French way – it all leads back to the same place, the same people — les idiots.

Not an awful lot of brainpower involved here.

Truly the work of the mentally challenged. At least they got one word right.

PPISONS must be some sort of French flambé dish.

Not the POLIVE! Anything but the POLIVE! Or POLIUE? These French spellings always screw me up.

This one shocked me with it’s coherence. They got the anarchy symbol wrong but hey, they are rebels. Maybe this is their way of saying “FUCK ANERKY!”.

Okay, enough of douchebags and their monosyllabic eloquence. There’s one other issue that keeps getting raised over and over again: police violence.

One of the main reasons I stuck myself at the front lines was to see exactly how the police would deal with the protesters, and how the protesters engaged police.

The main theme repeatedly brought up by the Toronto Community Mobilization Network, the people who hosted all of the protesters (including the Bloc), was the use of violent police tactics. This was well before any of the protests actually began. Some of their concerns seemed legitimate; I myself discussed some of the police interactions I had had with the Network’s legal counsel. But their defeatist attitude and their refusal to lift a finger to actually aid anyone quickly convinced me that they weren’t really in it for the social change or the protest. And, despite repeated interviews (some of which I was at personally), they refused to denounce violence. At all. In any way. In fact, any time they were asked about it, they would deflect with something to the effect of, “well that was a stupid question. What about the real issues?”

So here’s a group of people, actively fomenting violent protest. I mean, freely mingling with Bloc members and (it’s even been suggested), protecting them, pretty much speaks for itself. And once again, I have my own experience to lean on – the cops I spoke to clearly stated that they didn’t want any violence and that they would refrain whenever possible. The TCMN said nothing of the sort, even going so far as to suggest that violence may be necessary for those “without a voice”. I’m not sure who these hypothetical voiceless people were, though; I could scarcely hear my own thoughts over the din sometimes.

The majority of the protests, however, were peaceful. Non-violent, I mean. Yes, the cops were out in full riot gear, and I was prepared to bolt if anyone got to shoving, but it didn’t happen while I was there.

In fact, as with the protest marches, I got the distinct feeling that many of the people either had no idea why there were there, were there to invite people to the Rage Against the Machine concert taking place later (no kidding, actually handing out glossy leaflets), or weren’t part of any protest; just kinda hanging out or there to make new friends.

When I got home that Saturday evening I followed Twitter for a while to see what was happening. One of the major online happenings that night was the brief detention of Steve Paikin, effectively TVOntario’s news anchor with The Agenda.

As his disjointed tweets rolled in, describing the riot police moving in on a group of sitting protesters on The Esplanade, people were reacting with shock and basically saying, “There? See? A respected journalist getting hassled by the police! POLICE STATE!”

My take on Steve Paikin? Not sure if I want to say it publicly. But not positive. Not at all. That goes for everyone else who was rounded up and arrested in that late-night demonstration.

Let’s get a few things straight, shall we?

To begin with, every time the police moved their lines (and by all reports, that evening was no exception), they gave everyone a good loud warning. Of course some people chose to ignore it and instead asserted that these were “our streets!”

As we’ve learned, no, zeez are not your streetz, Frenchies.

I was part of a few riot police actions and, through some miracle, managed to escape without harm or incarceration. What miracle, you ask? I GOT OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!

This, I believe, was Steve’s first failure. I suppose that he was expecting that his prima donna status would put him above all that. His tweets certainly gave me that impression.

Next, Steve started to question why the riot police were moving on a line of peaceful protesters simply sitting out in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night, asserting their right to sit in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night. As we all do.

Two points on the ignoramus scale for Stevie here.

First, when would police ever let people block a street like that, protest or not? Tell you what, Steve, why don’t you go out and stand in the middle of a downtown intersection right now? Just stand there, or better yet, sit like the protesters did – peacefully — and refuse to move — peacefully. Go on, exercise your rights. Do it with a group of friends if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.

Second, the cops had spent the better part of the day trying to break up these groups who had demonstrated quite aptly that they were ready to engage in good old-fashioned vandalism. Gee, Steve, you couldn’t see any reason why the police might try to disperse the group? Or maybe you expected that they should’ve questioned people individually so that they could let all the good ones go? Seriously? Dumbass.

Then the situation started to get heavy. Apparently Steve witnessed a foreign reporter getting hit in the gut by riot cops. The guy happened to be unaccredited and was mouthing off to the police for being detained.

Here, again, I hearken back to my own expectations of the protests going in. I had these little hand-made paper signs that read “MEDIA: torontocitylife.com”, affixed to my bag and shirt. I expected that, should I be detained by police, they would count for exactly nothing. They were there, basically, as a form of hope that, should I be detained, the cops might treat me with some leniency. Certainly not an expectation of any kind.

Apparently Steve’s expectation was that he could just stroll out into the middle of a protest, surrounded by riot cops who had spent a day fighting burning police cars and getting harangued by rude protesters, and that…what? They’d come up to him and ask for his autograph?

I keep asking the same questions over and over again: Why was I able to read all the situations correctly (I was part of quite a few protests and standoffs that day, Steve was part of one)? Why wasn’t I hassled, detained, arrested, or even looked at funny? Why was I always looking for “outs” and making sure the cops weren’t getting ready to close in? And when they did, why was I always able to successfully side-step them?

Why does a complete amateur like me go into a situation with, what are obviously realistic expectations, and someone like Steve Paikin walks obliviously into the rabble, after everything that took place that day, and expects to come out smelling like roses?

Stay behind the desk where you belong, Steve.

And that goes for the rest of you people who “innocently” wondered into these protests and found yourselves “unwittingly” caught up in the police crackdown. Next time, here are a few clues that might tell you something might be going down, even if you do genuinely wander into these situations like the blithering idiots that you claim to be:

1. Do you see a line of heavily shielded riot police bearing shields, night sticks, and gas masks? That might be an indication that there’s a heavy police presence there and that something might happen. You may want to hang back a bit.
2. Did you suddenly wander into a pack of people who are shielding their faces with bandanas and sunglasses? Those people probably don’t want to be identified, probably because they’re up to no good. You might want to leave that particular group. Again, just hang back if you’re curious.
3. Are people engaging in illegal activity? (The law applies 24 hours a day. As far as I know, there is no moratorium on Saturday nights.) If you see something like this, chances are good that police may move in to arrest them. Chances are even better if there was a high level of illegal activity earlier in the day. If you’re in the middle of the group, the police probably won’t stop to have a pleasant chat with you about why you’re there, what your favourite restaurants are, and so on.
4. Are you in front of a line of riot police who have suddenly started to move forward? They have to move in unison in order to maintain their line so they won’t be going that fast. Maybe…get out of the way?
5. Have you just been detained by police while in the midst of a volatile situation (see above for indicators)? Try not telling them to go fuck themselves, or calling them pigs, etc. Perhaps just try following their directions? I know, I know, they just want to beat you and rape you but, hey, you might luck out. Calling them names or trying to fight them is less likely to get you out of that situation unscathed, unless you believe you can take them all on.
6. Is your head in your ass? Pull it out.

Now let’s never speak of this ugly affair again. Unless something interesting and relevant comes up.

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Wanda T. from Bloor West Village writes,

“I work as an arts and crafts consultant at a day care centre in the west end. I love my job but our building doesn’t have A/C and when it’s hot, the last thing you want is a bunch of sticky little brats climbing all over you grabbing at your home made jewellery. So when our poor little fan finally died I, turned cooling off into a game and got my kids to take turns blowing cool air on the back of my neck. Paradise! The best part is that after about 15 minutes of constant exhaling, a four year old is definitely going to pass out from heat exhaustion. It’s like we skipped blocks and went straight to naptime!”

Thanks Wanda! I hope you returned your used and discarded children to the store for your deposit back. Recycling isn’t a chore, it’s a way of life!

Harold S. from Lesliville writes,

“When the weather gets hot, my wife Jann and I usually get into an argument. ‘Take out the trash, this,’ ‘Your toenail clippings are everywhere, that.’ I’ll admit that my quick temper and penchant for in-home littering are parts of the problem, but the heat goes straight to my hot little head. I couldn’t take the constant bickering anymore so I started walking around the house with a wet towel draped over my crown. What a relief! A cool head and no more arguing — that is until my wife started calling me King Abdullah. THAT’S RACIST! There’s one thing I won’t tolerate and that’s intolerance, so I shipped her back to Kyrgyzstan in the crate she came over in. I can finally live the life I want – alone in my underpants with my garbage.”

Wow Harold. So creative and brave. It’s people like you that make me proud to call myself a hero. I am a hero, you know.

Sanjeet R. from North York writes,

“There’s no better way, in my opinion, to spend a Saturday afternoon than playing 3-on-3 basketball with five of your best friends (the sixth person is you). I do just such a thing almost every week at the park around the corner from my parents’ house. But last week it was so hot that my friends never showed up! I was left to alley without an oop. So, in an effort to entice prospective players to the court, I promised them all ice-cold sports drinks to soothe what ailed them. I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist. We played our hearts out for 25 minutes before my sweat drenched comrades took a break to replenish their electrolytes. Little did they know that I had replaced their beloved “Blue Blast” with Anti-freeze. Talk about an offensive foul-play! Sure I was still hot, but it’s true what they say, “Revenge is a dish best served in a refillable squeeze bottle.” Or whatever it is that they say. Alls I know is they embarrassed me so they deserved to die.”

Nice one, Sanjeet! Way to keep a cool head. If you’re looking for new teammates to shoot hoops with, there are always, like, eight guys hanging around on the far side of the parking lot outside my work. They’re not very tall but they look like they could use something to do.

Steve W. from The Annex writes,

“I bought a 40-pint dehumidifier and a ceiling fan for under $200. With a fresh breeze and no humidity, my apartment is like an oasis. Money well spent.”

Steve, I’m disappointed. I feel like you’ve frittered away a really great opportunity embedded within our call for letters here. You’ve wasted my time and – as a result – all of our wonderful readers’ time as well. Please do not writer to us again. We do not wish to hear from you.

- Mikey Kolberg,
The Raisin Gang

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I wasn’t able to watch the entire parade or see it from any great vantage point (I’m short!) but I wonder, why isn’t there mention of Harvey Milk at this event? Perhaps there is during other celebrations of Pride Week? I just think of his impact and also the gains fought for that have also been lost. & other activists, too. I think I’d like to see some booths that share information about the history of the movement – less promotional booths of businesses (unless they’re giving away lots of pretty buttons, ha!)

The reason why I mentioned Harvey Milk is this moment for me when police were walking in the Pride Parade. They wore the pretty rainbow beads and were advocating LGBT rights. I said out loud, “isn’t it nice to be able to demonstrate for what you believe in?” because I was thinking of last weekend when the police had become a militant force in our city and inflicted serious pain on peaceful demonstrators. I realize this was their job – they were on the clock, being paid – but doesn’t that make it worse?

So in that moment of seeing police in the parade, I felt conflicted. On the one hand, it’s fantastic if they are actually gay and able to be open in their occupation and participate in Pride. People protested for that right. & yes, maybe their participating inspired goodwill among some citizens? On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder… since the police forces were often wearing riot gear, shields for their faces, how do we know if they weren’t part of the attacks against demonstrators last weekend? How do they reconcile it in their minds? For me, I guess, it just felt OMGTOOSOON.

I’m curious as to whether there was greater attendance this year as opposed to the last time I went in 2008?

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One of the most iconic images of the G20 riots a couple of weeks ago was the that of the burning police car. You know the one:

I’ve heard a lot of criticism of the Toronto Police for leaving the vehicles unattended (as though that was, somehow, justification for them being set on fire). I’ve also heard much speculation on why the cars were there in the first place. Well, I have some theories on the second point (they were following the rear of the protest parade, perhaps?), but I believe I can answer the first one succinctly and authoritatively:

Putting resources (riot cops) to work guarding other areas, at that point, seemed like a pretty wise move. I suppose they could’ve tried to send a tow tuck in there to try to retrieve the cruisers but I think it’s reasonable to think that the truck could easily meet with the same fate. And that’s assuming they could get the seated “protesters” out of the way.

Some people have tried to convince me that these seated youngsters were there in order to protect the cops.  Haha! No shit! The same people trying to convince me heard it “from a friend” or other such reliable sources. But I tend not to trust those sources so much. Also, I took some time out to speak to the people on the ground directly — and that’s not the story I got.

I approached the young man with the glasses and leather jacket seated at the bottom of the last photo above to inquire why he was there. He initially misunderstood me and said, “No!”

I retried it with something simpler, “Where are you from?!”

“I’m from here! Toronto!”, he replied. (It was pretty loud)

“Who is this group you’re seated with?!”, I continued.

“I don’t know!”, he smiled, “I just sat down with them when I saw they were forming a line!”

“Oh!”, I shouted back, quite surprised. (I’d assumed the group was more organized than that.) “So what’re you protesting?!”

“I just don’t like the police!”, he shouted back, smiling, and shrugged.

Unfortunately, the mainstream media got there considerably later (as usual – slow pokes!), and it was they who were initially berating the cops for abandoning their cars (plus engaging in a little melodrama for the cameras and my amusement later on). Essentially, I don’t think they really had access to the full story.

Probably all that heavy equipment they have to lug around. Plus, they have to find a place to park their vans. In an urban environment, it’s just not the most efficient way to get around.

I’m seriously considering applying as a freelance (or staff), reporter for the local media. I’m thinking that me and my feet are a lot cheaper than a fleet of vans and fancy lighting — seems like a good deal, no?

Anyhow, by now you’ve probably already heard that the Black Bloc (I’ll be writing more about this in a later post), were responsible for the majority of the damage that day. They claim that the name refers to a tactic rather than an organization. I claim that it refers to a bunch of snot-nosed kids with way too much time on their hands.

In hindsight, it was really nice of them to pose for a group photo like this. It was even nice for a few of them to unmask themselves, albeit unwittingly.

You really can’t blame these revolutionary heroes for hiding their faces though. If their mom and dad ever found out I’d bet they’d get grounded for, like, forever. And without their disguises they’d never have been able to seamlessly blend back into the crowd afterward.

If this is a prime example of Black Bloc tactics, I’m going to suggest that they need a new tactician. For starters, maybe not dressing in all-black so as to suggest, you know, Black, would help.

Perhaps they thought that black would be slimming.

Continued in next part…

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Of course there was nudity again this year. Just more seemingly painful nudity. But I’ll let you be the judge. First try to find it. Then try not to cringe.

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On Monday I spent the day in bed throwing up and nursing what I can only assume must’ve been heat stroke. Much of today was about basic, sweaty survival. An honest-to-goodness heat wave has settled over the city and even parading around completely naked in front of my front windows isn’t helping. Thanks for the suggestion, Pride folks, but it’s not as liberating as I’ve been led to believe.

The weather people say that my flat should stop being an oven by the end of the week. I’m afraid that in the meantime, by leaving my computer on for too long, I’ll be taking the temperature of my living room too close to the point of combustion. Basically, it’s not terribly conducive to either writing or photography (though there’s still plenty left from the G20 protests!) Plus, I’m still trying to deal with my no-means-of-income situation; that continues to eat up precious blogging time.

In the meantime, here’s the 2010 Pride Parade from Sunday. It’s now officially the world’s largest gay/lesbian/trans/etc./etc. parade. It used to be just LGBT but they added so many letters to the acronym this year that I’m just not going to bother taking it any further (there’s even a “25″ in there somewhere!). If organizers can manage it, the world’s first international event will also be hosted here some time in the future. Sorry, Seattle. *snicker*

Not much else to say; it was hot, fun, and those Queers Against Israeli Apartheid people just couldn’t keep away, despite initially being banned. Not sure how their message changed between then and now to get them unbanned, but I’m sure we’ll be hearing more about that in the future.

Enough hot air, here’s the fun.

Continued in part 2…

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It’s mostly the rhetoric and misinformation guiding the protest that I take exception to. After all, people were just expressing themselves and exercising their right to peaceful protest which, much to John Clarke’s chagrin, ended up actually being peaceful. There were a few arrests made along the route, that’s true, but I suspect they involved the kind of people that would get arrested any old day, protest or not.

For most of us on the street the Friday afternoon was more like a parade.

Or a carnival perhaps.

Although it’s difficult to make out facial expressions beneath the gas masks, I can attest to the fact that more than one cop was willing to crack a smile and a joke that day.

And despite (or perhaps because of), the heavy police presence, the march generally felt quite safe.

A little loud perhaps…

…but safe.

As more than one fellow photographer pointed out, it’ll be a while before we get photo-ops like this again. Because, contrary to many of the protesters’ assertions, this “police state” we live in hardly ever gets this many cops in one place at one time.

As the group wound its way south along University Avenue, blocking off motorists, pedestrians, and businesses, they came up to a line of police at Elm Street. Apparently unaware of the irony of the situation, they demanded that they be allowed to walk further and that their rights to be on the streets were being violated.

This resulted in the first tense moment of the weekend (and it wasn’t even the weekend yet!), as Montreal riot police marched out from some side alley, pounding their shield in a menacing display of force. I was intimidated, that’s for sure.

As I stood perched on top of a nearby statue recording the situation I began to get the sinking feeling that, perhaps, things wouldn’t go well. The cops weren’t standing in direct opposition to the group – it wasn’t a showdown, in other words — but I knew they were ready to rush into the melee should anything start.

After a few moments the protest group grew silent and onlookers were told to move farther south. Uh-oh. Was this when the violence would erupt?

Thankfully, after containing the crowd along University Avenue for a few minutes the police decided to open up their lines along Elm Street to allow a thin stream of protesters to continue along the alternate route. Maybe it was alternate; the actual direction of the protest wasn’t really shared with anyone in the crowd. The organizers spent more time talking about bringing war to the city than telling people what, specifically, would be happening.

The loud group filled the narrow street and, after a few more stops along the way, were re-directed back to University and then back along College Street. At that point the tension had all but disappeared and the police became just an escort again.

The protesters got their message out, which police officers undoubtedly rushed to share with the G20 delegation, and all of us, now tuckered out after a long afternoon’s march, returned to Allan Gardens where the protesters pitched a tent city and continued loudly into the night.

I heard what sounded like live hip-hop performances and other acts (funky stuff, if I must say so myself). There didn’t seem to be much concern for the civil rights of nearby residents but, if nothing else, the park was clean and clear the next morning. And were I to judge by the interactions between police and protesters that evening, with people bringing ice cream and snacks to cops seated on curbs, I don’t think there was any animosity between the two groups.

Had people been able to keep that attitude into the weekend, I can’t help but get the feeling that what happened on Saturday wouldn’t have happened.

Continued in next part…

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On a scale of 1 to 3, with 1 being granola-popping tie-dyed hippies, and 3 being black bloc anarchists, the OCAP (Ontario Coalition Against Poverty) protesters on Friday would probably rate at 2. Not outright violent instigation, but prepared to throw a few punches.

You may have already seen the video in which John Clarke bluntly states, “they have given us war, we’re looking to give them war back”, and “things are not gonna to be peaceful”. This speech was given prior to the march and these quotes weren’t taken out of context. Mr. Clarke further urged protesters not to be afraid of the police which, during this protest march, made their presence clear.

As with many of the G20 rallies, this one gathered at Allan Gardens, apparently a favourite meeting spot for protests because of its centrality to poverty and social justice movements. There was talk of how poorly homeless people were treated in the neighbourhood, including the atrocious conditions of nearby homeless shelter Seaton House.

Shame no one bothered to get my opinion on the area (I did offer). I guess they didn’t really need to hear from people actually living in the neighbourhood (I’m looking at Allan Gardens through my front window at the moment). The fact that my flat backs out onto Seaton House and the fact that my friend has worked there as a counselor for years also didn’t seem to matter. Facts or extensive first-person experiences, apparently, shouldn’t enter into it.

But it wasn’t all OCAP; there were plenty of other groups involved in the afternoon’s festivities.

The most vocal groups at the front of the march spent a great deal of time insisting that they wouldn’t be told to “shut the fuck up” and that they had the right to protest. I tried asking a few police officers if they knew who was trying to get the protesters to hush up but I couldn’t make out their answers over the din.

The marchers were fighting for gender equality, women’s rights, abortion rights, and a number of other rights I could’ve sworn we had here in Canada (white men excepted, of course). Perhaps I’m mistaken.

Some of the imagery employed by the protesters was especially poignant, like the adult-sized coffins filled with wire coat hangers used to represent the dangers of illegal abortions. Again, I was under the assumption that abortions are legal here, and I also thought that there were somewhat safer methods to induce abortion, even if not performed by a doctor. But I was loathe to tell anyone that because it was obvious that they put a lot of effort into their displays.

Among the protesters were the Freedom Singers, demonstrating for their right to, umm, sing. And unionize. They were pretty good, despite the horrible repression they were experiencing.

There were also the anti-Israeli Apartheid people who had identified a number of corporate sponsors as being the cause of the current middle east conflict.

One lone frail dissenter stood across the street near the police claiming that Palestinians didn’t exist, because there is no Palestine, and that the protesters were totally off their rockers.

A surprising number of neo-Marxists, Socialists, and Communists peppered the crowd, many of them speaking only French.

And there were a few people who were there to add some colour to the parade. At least, that’s the best I could surmise.

Continued in next part…

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I am, of course, referring to the G20 summit that shut down most of Toronto over the weekend. I’m sure most people are now well aware of the outrageous costs surrounding the event and I wanted to see what kind of security that kind of money could buy. Even more than that, I wanted to see how the situation would be handled.

At every one of these meetings there are accusations of police brutality, protest situations getting out of hand, riot police, riot police, and more riot police. I needed to see the instigators for myself and not have to rely on either the media, the police, or the protesters for the facts – they could be quite skewed in all directions. The only way I can say anything with authority is to be right there between the riot police and the balaclava’d opposition.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Lots of stuff happened over the weekend but plenty happened before that. There were a number of protest marches and demonstrations throughout the city that, unfortunately, were lost in the subsequent shuffle. There were also a couple of related news items that I think are worth mentioning.

Despite some of the images you may have seen coming out of Toronto over the past few days, the vast majority of the protests and protesters were entirely peaceful.

A number of protests gathered at Allan Gardens, the public park just north of my flat. Protest organizers contacted police well ahead of time and the cops responded by clearing the park of any throw-able objects (I think the garbage cans are coming back today). Protesters also shared their route with the police who in turn cleared a path through traffic and escorted them. The police upheld (often with smiles and friendly banter), citizens’ rights to peaceable assembly and demonstration. Shock!

Just about every one of these early rallies was organized by one main group but typically composed of a variety of sympathetic ones that lent their voices of support. For example, the Native Rights group in these photos were really a collection of different tribes from around Canada and also included anti-poverty activists, minority rights people, women’s rights demonstrators, and so on. Say what you will about these people, even some of the more militant factions, they conducted themselves with dignity and there wasn’t even a hint of violence. I hope they don’t do it too often but I’d welcome them to march down the streets of Toronto any day.

Even some of the groups that protested closer to the G20 had some minor skirmishes with the police — but not these folks. I must profess a deep respect for what I saw, especially in light of what took place later during the weekend. And I learned a few things that I feel bear further study, things like disturbingly large number of missing native women, as well as stories of life in foster care, and so on. Many of the personal tales ended on an upbeat tone – people had gotten their lives together and are trying to provide a better one for their kids; it wasn’t whining or complaining, in other words.

No lazy alcoholic Indians in sight.

As the week wore on the protests intensified, the rhetoric did as well. That’s a shame because it ended up providing air time for people with increasingly smaller brains. And, although there were increasingly restrictive, and by all accounts secret (no one was told about them!), measures piled on Toronto citizens, these too led to shrill hyperbole that, well … have a look for yourself. (Try not to crack a smile.)

Turns out this law had been on the books for some time (it applies to police stations, government offices, etc.), but was extended to five meters (sixteen feet) around the security fence. Only temporarily, I should add – the added powers given to the police expired about ten hours ago as of this post. And I believe only two people were arrested under it, including Charlie Veitch, the guy being interviewed in the video acting all innocent (sorry, Charlie, but I was right there in the crowd with you!), and Dave Vasey the guy Charlie mentions he was in jail with. And who also turned out to be a bit of an instigator.

But many of the measures initially seemed draconian and like something out of a George Orwell novel. The term “police state” was bandied about a lot and, for a while there, I admit that I bought into it.

Were the police really going to start cracking down, putting bags over our heads, murdering us, and stealing out organs?!

Continued in next part…

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10. Psychoville

Psychoville is a wonderful little seven episode series (although more is coming) from the BBC that at first glance may appear to be a cheap rip-off of “I Know What You Did Last Summer,” but in fact is a wonderful, eccentric character study. The series revolves around six characters (a serial killer mom and son, a one-handed clown, a blind old millionaire that collects stuffed animals, a dwarf actor who may or may not have telekinesis, and a nurse that thinks a practice child is her actual offspring) that are all being blackmailed with the same ominous warning, “I know what you did.” As the series progresses, you see more of this mystery progress, and how these seemingly unrelated characters all share a history.

Perhaps the most impressive thing about this show is that creators, Reece Shearsmith and David Pemberton (League of Gentlemen) both play a whopping four characters each, and they’re honestly unrecognizable in each role. Additionally, the show is worth checking out for its strange mix of British humour and morbid death, and just the sheer surrealism brought forth. There’s a ton of great setpieces, like the dwarf actor starring in porns like “Snow White and the Seven Cocks,” one-armed Mr. Jelly’s back-story on how he gets his hook, and nurse Joy stealing real blood transfusions to make her doll “real.” There’s even an episode that pays homage to Hitchock’s “Rope” that is done ENTIRELY IN ONE SHOT. God, it’s just so smart and well-done it blows my mind. Lastly, the conclusion to the mystery manages to be satisfying and amusing, which is pretty much all I look for in a mystery/comedy.
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9. Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law

Harvey Birdman probably has the best plot out of all out Adult Swim’s former cartoons: A former superhero-now-lawyer defends classic cartoon characters in court (alliteration is your friend). Sure, on a surface level, this seems like a “cute” concept where you can juxtapose ideas like Fred Flintstone being a mob boss, or Quest/Bannon paternity suits, but this show ends up delving a lot deeper and becomes a fantastic little thing that learns when to stick to its formula, and when to stray away (I think the show’s best episode may very well be a mock orientation video for the show’s law firm).

Each episode of Birdman only clocks in at eleven minutes, things move at a crazyyyy frenetic pace which adds a great sense of urgency and “what the fuck-ness” to it all, where you really can’t predict where things are headed. When a great series of running gags accompany this, as well as how each episode seems to nonsensically end with everyone laughing, you’ve got a really enjoyable program that just wants to be fun. It also doesn’t hurt that Gary Cole and Stephen Colbert do some near-perfect voice work on the show, and Paget Brewster as Birdgirl may be the most all over the place, high-energy character I have ever seen. I am in love with her.
Best of Phil Ken Sebben

8. Better Off Ted

Better Off Ted is the most recent show on this list. And while its title may be terrible, its comedy is laughable (this is a good thing). The show observes Ted (surprise, surprise) and his co-workers at Veridian Dynamics, a money-driven company that makes ridiculous “evil” inventions. Even this sounds dumb, but please check out some episodes and you’ll realize how different and smart this show is (racial water fountains is a great episode). It’s almost the anti-Office where it takes real, mundane work plots, but extrapolates them like crazy. You get some beautiful, witty banter in this show that I would say rivals that of “Arrested Development” at times, and the acting is top-notch. Portia De Rossi does a great job playing a cold, disconnected boss that is completely different than anything you saw in Lindsey Bluth. The episodes are also full of sweeping Steadicam shots that just look gorgeous and make it feel unique from the rest of comedies out there. Even down to it’s title, Better Off Ted sounds like a show you will hate, but I guarantee that you will laugh at something in it.
Trailer

7. Home Movies

I have such fond love for this show, and it’s probably the perfect thing to dig into in the summer. It’s also probably one of the most quotable shows I’ve ever come across. While the very simple plot of, Brendon, Jason, and Melissa, three children who love to make movies may seem average, and even juvenile, this show excels with it. The main humour comes from its extreme conversational style (people are talking over each other, and you’d swear it was “live”) as well as its movie parodies. Much like Better Off Ted though, this show soon surpasses its concept and starts doing much more. I think the most pleasure in this program can be found with just how comfortable the voice cast is with each other and how naturally everything gels.

It’d also be impossible to recommend Home Movies without touching on Jon H. Benjamin, and his fantastic work as Coach McGuirk in this show. If you only watched Coach McGuirk scenes from an episode, and ignored everything else, you’d still laugh much more than you would during a typical comedy. A cautionary word though, the shorter first season of the show is a little less polished than the rest. I’d suggest starting with season two, if you want a better representation of how funny this show is.
Best of Coach McGuirk

6. Frisky Dingo

I don’t even think Matt Thompson and Adam Reed (both from former “Sealab 2021” fame, and Reed of current “Archer” fame) realize how brilliant a show they created. Frisky Dingo is about billionaire Xander Crews (and his superhero alter-ego, Awesome-X) and the villain Killface, who is trying to use his Annihilatrix to push the earth into the sun. That’s pretty much all you need to know, and even then, you have no idea what you are getting into. This is a crazy show that just builds, and builds, and builds. Forget about what I said about Birdman having callbacks, Frisky Dingo lives off them. By the end, it may only be callbacks, but you will love it, and you will be quoting every single line.

What I love most about Frisky Dingo is that while I suppose it is a superhero show, Xander Crews and Killface barely ever fight (and for a good duration are both blinded), and the second season takes such a tremendous tonal shift with the two running for office, and fighting for the presidency. That is super clever. This show has plenty of characters, and tons to talk about, but Xander Crews is pretty much unadulterated id, which is as fun as it gets. Add to that super-intelligent ants, Death Rabbit Fights, and rape wigs and you’ve got yourself a winner. Boosh.
Best of the Xtacles

5. NewsRadio

NewsRadio is one of the best ensemble sitcoms you’ll see. It has Dave Foley, Maura Tierney, Andy Dick, Stephen Root, and Phil fucking Hartman (among others). It’s about the ins and outs of a bunch of quirky co-workers at the WNYX news-radio station, and these are probably some of the most callous people you will meet.

What is so enjoyable about NewsRadio is how everything about it should be force feeding you a stale sitcom down your throat, but this thing works. And it really really works (and then Hartman was killed…). And perhaps the reason why is that each episode really seems like a long piece of sketch comedy, that slowly adds layers to it. The humour here is super varied though, with most episodes having a really well put together physical gag with Andy Dick’s accident-prone Matthew, or some piece of absurdity from Hartman’s Bill McNeil, but chances are you will find something you like in this. It also has the luxury of featuring a ton of really great guest stars, like Jerry Seinfeld, David Cross, Jon Stewart, and Bob Odenkirk. This show just does so much right. There’s an episode where Dave painstakingly writes a eulogy for a loner of an employee he knows nothing about, only to see his funeral full of people in Klan garb. There’s a sight gag with the Hamburglar that I’m laughing at right now.
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4. Stella

Marx Bros. on crack. That is Stella, plain and simple. This show may not appeal to everyone, but if you like it, I think you’ll fall in love it. Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, and David Wain (from The State; and this show too, borrows many of its sensibilities from sketch comedy) are basically three man-children that just run around in suits, and hilarity ensues. They mug up to the camera, they do tableaux, they break the fourth wall…Stella is all over the place, and the best recommendation I could give would be just to watch the pilot, which is pretty much overflowing with jokes. It’s only ten episodes long, but in that time I think they get more jokes out than most multi-season shows do. If you laugh at wordplay like “You called us old maid” “No, we said aulde maid. Like should aulde acquaintances be forgot…”, the difference between “funk rock” and “funk rock,” or skewing of plot conventions like a contest conveniently being for the exact same amount of money that our heroes need, or a bad fake mustache working as an infallible disguise, then Stella is for you.
Stella Short
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3. Duckman

Duckman was recently released on DVD, and it amazes me how in spite of being on over ten years ago, it somehow just as relevant and had amazing foresight. There are episodes lampooning things like reality TV (although at the time it is referring to shows like “Cops” and “America’s Most Wanted”) that hold up incredibly well nowadays. The premise of the show is that Duckman (voiced with sheer angsty glee by Jason Alexander) works with his Phillip Marlowe-esque partner, Cornfed work to solve crimes as detectives, while Duckman also deals with his fractured family life.

At first look, Duckman is fun because Alexander plays Duckman as an insanely egotistical, perverted asshole, which is fun, but the series almost feels like a Rod Serling production from the ‘50s. It has stuff to say. There’s an episode that tackles all of Dostoyevsky’s works, which doesn’t at all sound like it’d be entertaining as a cartoon, another as a noir-thriller, or another that basically attacks all “Friends-like” sitcoms. Duckman is a wonderful little gem that manages to be smarter than the rest of television while simultaneously being more offensive and derogatory. And Frank Zappa doing the music doesn’t hurt. Also, all four seasons are spread out over two DVD sets for a great deal.
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2. The Larry Sanders Show

Without The Larry Sanders Show, there would be no “The Office”, or “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” or possibly even no “Entourage.” The show stars Garry Shandling as fictional late night host, Larry Sanders, as he runs his show with its crew. The show is really the first to premiere the “mockumentary” style approach, as well as mixing behind the scene elements with “real” segments. In each episode of Larry Sanders, you see the relevant show-related stresses, as well as actual celebrities (Jim Carrey and David Duchovony do career-making guest spots) being interviewed and bands performing on the show. While the show really perfects that awkward atmosphere that almost has become tired in shows now, it also does a great job illustrating how crushing and duplicitous the entertainment industry can be.

The real stand-out performer here is Jeffrey Tambor as Hank Kingsley, who plays Larry’s sidekick and announcer on his show, who is just the most reprehensible, selfish character you will see. If you thought Tambor was great on “Arrested Development,” this knocks it all out of the water. Judd Apatow also got his start on this show, and it’s great to see his early episodes and slow progression into comedy.

I’ll admit that Larry Sanders may even be too dry or real for people when it starts, but it is a great treat, and glimpse into Hollywood. There’s also a great plotline on the show between Larry and Jon Stewart feuding for a late night spot that is so similar to the recent Conan/Leno business it is scary. If you’re still hesitant, any Hank episode is a good place to start.
Best of Hank Kingsley

1. Sports Night

Sports Night died because it was too good, and too funny for itself. It was one of those beautiful stars that eventually imploded in on itself. Aaron Sorkin (The West Wing, Studio 60) brings you a show about the cast and crew of a late night sports news show. Much like Larry Sanders, you’re seeing the behind-the-scenes of a fictional show, but the real focus here are the characters. Sorkin does an astounding job creating people; not stock characters, or stereotypes, but actual people. By the end of this show, I fully cared about this cast, and their relationships, and their struggles.

While the show does dip into the dramatic territory often, it is funny, perhaps some of the funniest stuff I’ve seen, and it’s all in the language. Sports Night is a show that truly cares about words. It’s some of the most beautiful poetry you’ll see on your screen. This is banter at its best (“It’s a vicious circle.” “It is.” “It’s a neverending circle.” “Just keeps going round and round.” “Never ends.” “That’s what makes it vicious.” “And a circle.”) And when you add the show’s trademark tracking shots and walk-and-talks, it doesn’t even feel like television; this is cinema-type stuff.` There are also some absolutely stunning monologues in this show too. Like, you could use a speech from this show and easily get a date with someone as a result.

It’s worth talking about the cast, as it is headlined by some fantastic actors like Peter Krause (Six Feet Under), Felicity Huffman (Desperate Housewives), and Josh Charles (In Treatment), but everyone does a great job that you just get lost in. The show, with seamless ease, also shifts its focus between characters, and you won’t even notice. And if you have any reservations for this show due to the fact that “Sports” is in the title, drop them immediately. I’m not a sports guy. Besides knowing that Stanley Cup is one of the better hockey players, I know nothing, yet this show is at the top of my list. If you only have time to commit to one of these shows over your summer, please check out Sports Night. I can’t do it justice here, but the writing is just some of the best you’ll come across. PS: There’s a horrendous laugh track inserted into the show by the network during the first season to make it more “accessible” but it’s just a disaster due to how fast-paced the show is. It’s slowly phased out though.
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Well, there, in my humble opinion is some great comedy to keep you busy over the summer. That is, if reading this article didn’t exhaust your entire holiday. Keep on laughing, internet users!

Listingly Yours,
Daniel Kurland
The Raisin Gang

Just a shame it couldn’t be of something happier…

Visit Miguel’s YouTube site to watch this in HD.

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So, until I get a chance to sit down and do it up properly, here’s the OCAP-led (Ontario Coalition Against Poverty), protest in hastily slapped-together videos.

My favourite was when the riot police came out in formation.

Everyone gathered at Allan Gardens…

…then they marched along Carlton/College Street (same street, it just changes name halfway through), to University Avenue where they turned south and were met with a pretty imposing group of riot police.

After the little standoff the group decided to head west along Elm Street. However, after dead-ending in the narrow street they decided to do a loop back to University and back onto College…

…and then we all went back to Allan Gardens for ice cream and songs around the campfire — we were all tuckered out. The protesters are currently camped out there and I can still hear them whooping it up.

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And then there are the protesters.

Obviously I believe that they have something to protest. Even the groups that I think are mostly out to lunch deserve to have their voices heard. And both the government and the security forces have repeatedly stated that people have the right to peaceably demonstrate. I mean, putting the “official” demonstration area twelve blocks north of where the summit is happening is laughable, but at the same time, the few recent protests that have taken place moved around the city pretty much unimpeded. Accompanied by Toronto police, of course, but with the cops actually “keeping the peace” — as advertised!

As I’ve been careful to point out, most of the police I’ve encountered so far have successfully walked that thin line between enforcement and accommodation. Good people, and I get the impression that they got into policing for all the right reasons. Basically the kind of cops you’d want policing your streets. And I’ve already spent enough time berating those officers that seem to be ready to cross over the aforementioned line in a non-accommodating way (though the opposite is just as bad).

At the same time, the extra security around town isn’t entirely unwarranted. The tactics being used or espoused by some of the protest groups run the gamut from just plain dumb right up to outright violent. That protest on Monday, for example, the one that I ended up missing while I was having my chat with the riot police, that one ended up at an Esso gas station not too far away. It was a mostly peaceful march and the gas station was occupied for only about 10 minutes — but what the hell was the point?

Presumably the protesters were intending to hurt the Esso Corporation, but none of them seemed to be able to pull their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that a single gas station isn’t the corporation. Most of these stations are operated as franchises by individuals. These people invest in the business, as with any other franchise, and then pay the head company for products, deliveries, etc. Admittedly some locations do better than others, but attacking them is basically the same as attacking individual business owners. And their families. And the customers. Taking over a single location really doesn’t do a whole heck of a lot of damage to the corporation, just to the very people that these protests are supposed to be supporting.

Here again the police exercised restraint and wisdom and let the protesters stick around for a little while before moving them off. Frankly, I believe in property laws (I don’t want random people barging into my place!), so I thought the cops were being quite generous. Plus, as someone who’s had to sit in traffic while placard-waving idiots walked by my car and banged on the hood, blocking off traffic is not something I necessarily approve of. Okay, yeah, a peaceful march and a few minutes of inconvenience is fine. But again, we’re all roughly in the same boat so who are these protests really affecting?

So obviously some of these protesters are missing the point. Wonder if they ever had it to begin with. But they had their fifteen minutes, wasted it, see ya next time.

When they mix violence into it, however, that takes stupidity to a whole new level. And if the Toronto Community Mobilization Network (responsible for putting up, feeding, and organizing most of the visiting protesters), bothered to give it any thought, they’d denounce violence in a heartbeat.

That’s main organizer Sayed Hussan on the left, and legal counsel Sandra Somethingsomething (unfortunately I missed her last name) beside him, providing a statement in front of Police headquarters this afternoon. When I heard they’d be down there I hauled my ass down to ask Sandra what to say / do should I have another interaction with police.

Why? Because I fully intend on following the law, that’s why. So I can also feel right in my heart of hearts if I have to stand up to police should they overstep their authority and break the law. So that I’ve done my due diligence as a responsible human being. Because I expect the law to apply to everyone.

However, Sayed was asked (by Newstalk 1010, I believe), for a second time (the first in a previous interview), if he denounced violence. “Yes”, he replied, “by police”. And for the second time he refused to denounce violence by protesters.

Look, even if one believes that violence is a fair way to fight back against the police, is it realistic, at all, to think that it would result in anything less than getting a good thrashing from the cops? Has no one told Sayed how much money is being spent on security? Did he somehow fail to see the swarms of officers that would beset protesters when they turn violent? What kind of tactic is that? I mean, are they actually trying to make change happen or are they just looking for a fight?

From the protestor’s perspective, violent confrontation is a stupid tactic and I have yet to witness circumstances in which it’s “the last resort”, as it’s being described. Throw a few rocks, maybe punch a few officers if you manage to get close enough – and then what? What did that achieve? Where did that get you? What did that prove? Ooh, you’re big and brave and scary. Yeah, great, and now you’re either in police detention or hiding somewhere.

And I’d like to remind you, dear reader, that I’ve got just about as much right to gripe about police unfairness as the people brandishing funny hairstyles and shouting unintelligible slogans. In fact, both myself (as you already know), and two friends had run-ins with police in which no explanations were given, no justifications provided, no laws cited. At least the people that Sayed and Sandra had come down to discuss in front of media had received tickets to justify their detentions, spurious as those tickets were (jaywalking, loitering, etc.)  And I got off relatively easy – my friends were detained and questioned for a good length of time, then sent on their way without so much as a “thank-you for your time”.

My reactionary tactic was to start being extra friendly to police – I wave to every group I see, say “hello”, wish them a good day – if they’re going to treat me like a threat then they better be able to explain it to a judge. I might still get treated unlawfully there and then, but fighting provides them with legal grounds to come back at me, and chances are very good I’ll get my ass kicked. I lose once on the street and a second time in court.

Common fucking sense.

To be fair, Sayed wasn’t inciting violence. But, it was quite clear that he thinks it’s an acceptable tactic.

Other groups, however, are going full-out, planning to be “confrontational”, sometimes not only with police but also with media:

We will take back our city from these exploitative profiteers, and in the streets we will be uncontrollable! This is a militant march where many forms of resistance and tactics are welcomed and respected.

Wow, what kind of a “fuck you” to everybody is that? And how utterly pointless?

Some of these very same people are suggesting that the police may use agent provocateurs – disguised cops milling with the crowd trying to incite violence in order to justify a heavy-handed response. Haha! Seriously?! What would the cops do that the group wouldn’t readily do itself? In other words, why insert undercover cops when the protestors will start or continue the violence themselves? And if there should prove to be some truth to these accusations, what’s the plan for trying to expose the undercover agents?

It’s alleged that Quebec police did just that in Montebello a few years ago. I’m not necessarily saying it’s not true but could we maybe assume that Toronto cops would be a little smarter and not wear standard-issue police boots? The only way to expose violent cops at that point, without any visible identification, would be … non-violence!

But that requires thinking, organization, and a committed ideology. *groan* Who wants to do that?

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I mean, the G20 meeting is easy to criticize. The cost, the purpose (or lack thereof), the way the rights of the citizens of Toronto are seemingly being shoved aside without regard; yeah, that all needs to be questioned.

Now more than ever, it seems.

Folks who follow my tweets will no doubt have read about my concerns about the seeming lack of any legal basis for any of the security restrictions. And that’s not just me saying that. Plus, I’ve been asking police what laws I’d be breaking should I breach the security barriers or if I fail to comply with their demands. Not that I necessarily plan to do so, but I’m deeply troubled by the fact that the police themselves don’t know what, specifically, they’re enforcing. If there’s a law (or laws), so be it — if I don’t like it then there’s a system through which it can be changed. But if there is no law…

In other words, if I was put into handcuffs, what would I be charged with? Keeping the peace, protecting private property, these things I understand and respect, but I want to be assured that I can’t be detained for no other reason than “heightened security”. That’s not a law, that’s an excuse, and a very dangerous one at that.

And that’s no longer just my pontification on the subject.

In the middle of the afternoon yesterday I heard about an impromptu protest being staged by the Toronto Community Mobilization Network, a group playing host to many of the protesters coming to the city. They started their march in Allan Gardens, moved down adjacent Sherbourne Street, and were routed west along Dundas by police until they decided to “take over” an Esso gas station at Jarvis. This route wasn’t planned in any way and by the time I got to Sherbourne the group was gone. I though they might’ve moved farther south so I continued along Sherbourne to Queen Street East. There I spotted a number of unmarked vehicles carrying riot police – must be the spot the protesters are heading towards, I thought.

I stopped by one of the open cars and asked one of the officers if they knew anything about the protest. Not a thing, he replied. So I waited under a shady tree in adjacent Moss Park, camera hanging off my arm by the strap, directly in front of the riot police. And waited. And waited.

I must’ve stood there for twenty minutes waiting for the protest group to come down, checking websites and tweeting from my mobile phone to try to get some more info. Every now and again I raised my head to see if anything was happening – nothing but the cops passing out drink bottles and engaging in casual chatter with each other.

Then two of the riot police approached me.

“Sir, are you with the media?”

“No”, I replied. Trying to be honest, I don’t consider TCL to be an established news organization. Not yet anyway.

“Then we’re going to have to ask you to leave the area for your own protection.”

I kind of stood there and blinked for a moment, dumbfounded.

Moss Park must’ve had some twenty to thirty people in it, some sun tanning, some walking their dogs, some just standing around like me. A further group of people were sitting on the curbs and nearby concrete embankments, also not doing a whole heck of a lot except sitting there and staring at the cops. I think if you were to pick out any particularly suspicious physical characteristic (mirror shades, five o’clock shadow, dishevelled clothing, etc.), you’d have been able to find at least two other people who were more likely suspects than me.

“My own protection? Will you be asking everyone to leave too?”, I asked. I felt like I was being singled out. But, if the protesters were coming then, yeah, they would be asking everyone else to leave too. Right?

“It’s because you’re taking photos of us getting kitted up”, replied the second cop, considerably less cordial than the first.

“I’m not taking photos…”, but was cut off before I could finish. “You were back there, I saw you”, replied cop number two. “Leave the area now”. End of pleasantness.

I was now getting rather annoyed, to be honest. Moments earlier I had spotted another photographer with a camera just as prominent as mine (more so, in fact), poking his lens right into the vehicles and taking more than a few photos of the cops up close and personal. He had what looked like a media tag slung around his neck with a lanyard. I don’t know who he was with, but I know that the cops didn’t even bat an eyelash in his direction – certainly didn’t check his “credentials”. They decided, instead, to arbitrarily pick on me.

“How about if I put the lens cap back on?”, I offered.

“Please leave the area.”

“What about if I just put the camera in my bag?”, I continued.

“Leave the area now.”

“Look, I’ve got a zoom lens on this thing. I could be at the other end of the park and take close-up pictures of you”, I tried to reason.

They shrugged. “Sir, please leave the area. For your own safety.”

Obviously not because of any protesters. And obviously just me. Was it because they would be threatening my own safety?

I decided there would be no reasoning with these guys so I acquiesced. I receded a few meters into the park, leaned up against the fence, and continued to try to get more information on the protest. The two cops, leaning into the car windows, pointed me out to their buddies and discussed how much of a threat I would be (I guess). The other guy with the camera went on his merry way, snapping even more photos as he walked by, passer-bys took shots with their mobile phones, but the police attention was still trained on me, fingers occasionally pointing in my direction.

I had my ID with me, I would’ve volunteered to have my bag searched, and I would’ve been happy to answer their questions – considerably more than your average citizen is required to do. I really had nothing to hide and, up until that point, had no gripe with the police. Unfortunately, none of this was an option – I guess they’d already made up their minds about me.

Eventually the group got back into their vehicles and sped off. Well, tried to. You know, downtown traffic pretty much ensured that I could easily keep up on foot. I guess the protest had broken up at that point, however, and the vehicles eventually dispersed in separate directions to go harass some other innocent civilian.

Here’s the thing: what the fuck ?!

Expressing concern about their identities being revealed, that I could understand. Not revealing license plate information also makes sense to me. Hell, if they knew anything about the law, they could’ve even requested that I not use their faces – that’s their right as citizens under the Copyright Act (you own the rights to your face and can refuse to have it used—seems sensible, no?). Besides, the police aren’t asking permission to take high-definition photos of everyone passing under the newly installed cameras that appear, literally, on every street corner.

Photographers are allowed, by law, to take photos in public places. Can you imagine how unwieldy it would be to try to get permission from everyone that appeared in the frame when taking a street shot? It’s why I can do what I do, and it’s why police can install cameras on street corners.

Okay, so at this point you’re probably asking what the big deal is? Wasn’t like they were beating me with batons and, frankly, I could’ve told them to go to hell.

What this situation does, unfortunately, is to demonstrate just how illegal and intrusive some police actions may be during the summit. You see, I wasn’t anywhere near the fenced security zone, I was a block away from my flat. My neighbourhood. Allan Gardens, the park where the protest started, is across the street from me.

When it’s calm, the riot cops can afford to walk up to “suspicious” people to try to intimidate them, but if things start to get a bit more heated, I doubt that they’ll take the time out to ask who I am, what my purpose is, or even try to take off their riot gear to identify themselves. The most likely scenario will be: there’s a guy with a camera (or whatever) — we don’t like the looks of him, attack / arrest first, maybe ask questions later. In my neighbourhood, on my street, out in public. How likely is this? Based on this recent interaction, I’d say very.

See the problem?

Following this run-in I flagged down a group of about nine Toronto bicycle cops – plenty around these days. I asked them if I’d done anything illegal or even just questionable, if they could think of any reason why the riot police would’ve approached me like that, and if it was within their power to detain me or remove me from the area (had I decided to take it that far). I explained the situation fully, including the few photos I took when I arrived at the scene. The bicycle cops looked me over, perhaps to see if I was menacing enough to warrant that sort of action, mulled it over a bit, and answered that they really couldn’t think of a reason. I hadn’t broken any law and, in fact, was free to take photos out in public as long as I wasn’t trespassing on private property. Exactly as I understood my rights. Exactly what I had done (and only briefly at that).

I should point out, once again, that the Toronto police are for the most part really decent folks. The bicycle cops joked around with me, smiled, and wished me a pleasant day as I was leaving. If the riot cops took that attitude, shit, I’d have even offered to delete the photos I took. My problem isn’t with the cops, per se, it’s simply the fact that they’re carrying weapons, restraints, authority, but apparently not terribly sure about what laws they’re enforcing. Not a single cop has been able to cite any legal justification for what’s happening around the city. Again, if I was breaking shit, trespassing, or being a jerk to the police, all of that is covered by law and good enough reason for them to slap the cuffs on me. I want them to have that power, it seems perfectly reasonable.

I was, however, breaking no law, doing or even thinking nothing wrong – literally standing under a shady tree in a public park, adjacent to a public sidewalk, among a group of other people who were loitering much as I was. My aim was to photograph the protesters, believing that the cops get a bum rap in the media when it comes to most altercations. Yes, actually on the side of the police and hoping to show them in a positive light.

Unfortunately, claims by protesters about police harassment now seem quite likely to me. What’s worse, the cops can’t seem to even claim any basis in law to support their actions. At the moment, what we have on the streets of Toronto are basically a bunch of armed, armoured thugs walking / driving around in unmarked vehicles and intimidating random people. I’m still trying to remain open-minded, still reminding myself of the law-abiding, friendly cops I’ve had interactions with. Perhaps these riot police are not natives, as the bike cops suggested, perhaps Montreal police shipped in for the occasion. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck where they’re from – it’s their duty to follow the laws they’re supposedly enforcing. Whatever those are.

And then there are the protesters…

Continued in part 2…

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I have a limited income. There was an adjustment to my wage after the WSIB appeal (where I was ‘partially awarded’ but lost and will have to go through one more appeal about a year from now, blah) but other than that, I’m making pocket change from the fluff & fold and my locally sold photography prints.

Paying rent is something I am very particular about – something about being homeless for that brief scary time has made keeping this apartment in The Beach/es all the more an accomplishment, ya know? The thought of not having my cats with me (Lion & Hagrid), of letting them down again, is too much so I do what I can to make sure it doesn’t happen. The cats & I are too fat but dammit, we’re safe and we’re home. While I realize that things can change and I can’t control everything, I know that I’ve been doing at least this one right thing in maintaining this soft place to land.

So I put the ipod nano on and listened to music as I took the boardwalk most of the way to the bank. I thought to myself, how awesome is it that I get to walk by the lake on my way to do something like this? Sure, I’ve made more money in the past. I’ve had myself more together in days gone by. I’ve weighed less, done more, had more going on… but I haven’t found a place like this before.

sitting on the dock with a bicycle.

It was an overcast day. It was warm and damp but not awful. I felt shrouded.

here, a photo of a bird, see?

When I got back from the bank I happened to reach the door about the same time as the building manager. I was not happy at all that my money order could go missing when I had done my part to make sure rent was paid. I know for certain it was placed in the locked box. He was apologetic and was in the building placing a form in our doors to get information for a new security system that is going to be installed soon. Turns out that thousands of dollars in rent has gone missing in recent months. Someone who has keys to those locked boxes (former building manger, maybe?) has been stealing the cheques & money orders. Thankfully, my money order wasn’t cashed. I put very specific details on mine (June had a smiley face on it because I was so proud that we paid it early) and maybe that stopped the thieves from cashing it – or maybe they just didn’t get to it yet – but that money order has since been stopped by the bank when I had the replacement issued. After talking to the building manager I wasn’t irritated with him anymore and was about to send an apologetic email to the property company for the tone of my earlier emails but after thinking about it, I realized that this was their fault.

They must have known what was going on! To serve notice to someone who for over the past year had not failed to pay rent even once, let alone the fact that there is a serious amount of money missing from the rent boxes for several months should indicate they have a problem and it’s not with their tenants! I’m offended that they have a notice downstairs posted to the tenants about paying rent on time but there is nothing up there about the fact that those rental boxes aren’t secure – that our cheques & money orders are compromised. I’m just relieved that I’ve refused to pay my rent in cheque form – I have always paid with money orders – because this could have been a lot more complicated & stressful.

Things are cleared up and I feel better about having validation in this matter – that for certain it wasn’t me at fault – and thankfully there is no tension between myself and the building manager. I tend to take things personally (everything! it’s annoying) and it’s good to know it has nothing to do with me. (whew)

cottage on kew gardens property.

While writing this entry, I took photos of the cats in the building opposite, and one of myself and Hagrid. I cleaned the bottom shelf of the cabinet and he seems happy to have a place for himself again. I’ve moved my collection of letters over to another bookshelf next to some records and now I just need to clean the top shelf – sort the old photographs into an album or something – blah. Yesterday I moved the majority of my vinyl collection under an old coffee table – next to Jason’s desk – and it fits there well because my stereo is right above – all of it fitting just below the window. I’m slow when it comes to settling into a place but I think things are coming together. It may seem like I’m doing nothing but it’s busy work in my head. I’m slowly putting myself back together. Working from the inside out, I’m building something here.

Comfortable and cozy considering everything? I know how fortunate I am.

365 Days (2010): Day 166

cats in the windows across the way.

• background noise:The Verve Pipe – Photograph | Powered by Last.fm

—
Read more from Amber Dawn at amber dawn’s non-paper journal.

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The last one toppled Adam Giambrone, reducing Jammers to a sobbing wreck as he was delivering his stepping-down speech. To be honest, we all kinda saw that one coming, didn’t we? Young guy, in politics since he was in diapers; he was overdue for a political misstep. According to the Toronto’s Sexiest Councillor poll (you haven’t voted yet?), he gives most of the councillors a run for their money, and even I’ll grudgingly concede that he’s a fairly good-looking guy, so the fact that it was a sex scandal that took him out (the standard had sex with another woman kind), really didn’t come as a surprise.

The latest one involving Rob Ford, however, was a bit of a surprise. To say it came out of left field would be a bit of an understatement.

Seems Rob got himself tangled up with a Dieter Doneit-Henderson (first name pronounced “Deeter”, second like “doughnut”), a gay guy with Fibromyalgia living somewhere on the west end of the city. From what I could glean; just outside of Rob’s electoral district anyway.

This is the picture Dieter posted of himself on his Posterous account, and you can get more insights on this pleasant fellow on his Twitter account.

A little while ago Rob made a few remarks about mostly gay people and IV drug users getting AIDS. He said he was speaking statistically and although I believe he didn’t mean any harm by it, as a politician and a public figure, it just wasn’t a great move. So Mr. Ford contacted Dieter (or was it the other way around?), to try to mend the fences with the LGBT community. Of course, the remark resurfaced again during the campaign but it didn’t get much traction after Rob’s olive branch manoeuvre.

For a while, all was quiet on the Ford front until last week when Dieter released a recording of a conversation he’d had with Rob. Here’s an excerpt (followed by a response from Doug Ford, Rob’s brother and campaign manager):

In the conversation, Mr. Doneit-Henderson asks Rob to procure OxyContin for him for his Fibromyalgia. In case you’re not familiar with it, OxyContin is a strictly controlled opioid painkiller, similar in effect (and addictive qualities) to Heroin but not as strong, in pill form, and legal (with a prescription). Rob, however, doesn’t seem to know what the drug is, let alone where to get it, but promises to try to help Dieter one way or another.  In typical Ford fashion (at least based on past fumbles), he suggests that Dieter try to get it on the street and that he’ll try to talk to his own family doctor to see what can be done. Rob also makes a few references to dealers, piling gaffe upon gaffe.

Thing is, no one would even have known about this had it not been for Dieter recording the phone conversation (without telling Rob), and three weeks later releasing it to the media. Correction, shopping it around to the media — only two media outlets decided to pick it up.

Mr. Doneit-Henderson defends his actions by saying, essentially, that he had been jilted by someone who he thought was a friend and that he had received menacing phone calls from Rob’s office telling him to never call Mr. Ford again. Unfortunately, that part has not been substantiated and, from all accounts, no one from Mr. Ford’s office called Dieter.

The story came out in a rather sloppy fashion with suggestions that Rob offered to buy Dieter the drugs on the streets (this was never mentioned in the conversation), and Mr. Ford countered with a similarly sloppy rebuttal stating that Dieter had come after him and his family stating in the phone call that Dieter was standing on his front lawn and making other veiled threats (also something I have not heard mentioned in the recording or subsequent transcripts).

So that’s the scandal, pretty much in its entirety.

By pure coincidence I happened to run into Rob near Yonge-Dundas Square on Friday night where I got to talk to him and Doug. They were having a chat with some guy who was complaining about a pricing problem at the nearby Canadian Tire store.

Here’s where I became convinced that Rob, as he had stated, was simply trying to help out. In much the same fashion as he had offered help to Dieter, he gave the Canadian Tire guy his business card and told him he would do what he could to try to help out. Unless the interaction was staged for my benefit, here was Rob being Rob (potentially setting himself up for more problems), doing what he said he does.

While I was waiting to shake hands with Mr. Ford (I’d like to shake hands with all the candidates), his campaign manager said that his office had received 19 letters of support from people around Toronto, one of them coming from Sarah Thomson, another mayoral candidate who had apparently also had dealings with Dieter. I emailed Ms. Thomson’s campaign manager as soon as I got home to try to verify this information but, unfortunately, didn’t receive a reply. So, although I can’t verify whether or not this actually happened, this is what I was told and, given Dieter’s rampaging political involvement, wouldn’t be surprising.

Rob was still adamant that Dieter had threatened him and his family, but I’m not convinced of this. At least, I haven’t heard or read anything to that effect. In any event, Mr. Doneit-Henderson’s excuse for recording a private conversation is super weak and given his less-than-pleasant attitude towards most people with whom he disagrees, this whole affair comes across as personal retribution against someone who wouldn’t help him get drugs. As harsh as that may sound, that’s the impression I’m left with. I mean, just look at the photo that Dieter stuck on one of his Posterous posts:

(Original image was removed — please see below *)

That’s well beyond bad taste, wouldn’t you agree?

So do I think Rob needs to maybe take a few lessons on public speaking? Yup. Do I think his comments regarding getting drugs on the street were inappropriate? Yeah. Do I think he sometimes speaks before he thinks? Sure. If this is what would make him a poor mayor then yeah, that’s a fair and demonstrable argument.

But do I think that Rob Ford’s heart was in the right place? Based on my own experience, yes. Do I think he was set up? I have very little doubt that he was. And do I think Dieter is a whiny brat with too much time on his hands and nasty, spiteful attitude? Most certainly yes.

My money’s still on George Smitherman to win the mayoral race although his media silence of late has made that much less certain. I like Rob Ford as a person but his vision seems to be too myopic and limited; little cuts and little changes where massive action is required. I’m now on the fence about who the best candidate for the city is, but even though I’m not a Ford backer, I will say that this “scandal” is nothing short of bullshit. He may not be the most diplomatic personality in the race, but I genuinely believe Rob Ford is trying to help Torontonians. If he’s guilty of anything, it’s of trying to be a little too helpful.

And in the meantime I hope that Dieter crawls back under whatever rock he crawled out from under and starts praying that he’s not sued for slander, libel, defamation, and all the other nasty insinuations he’s been making. Then there’s the issue of recording phone calls without telling the person on the other end that he was doing so — just slimy.

—
* The image that originally appeared above was removed at the request of Rob’s campaign office. It was one of Rob’s standard council photos (I’m sure you can find another one around here somewhere), but with a less-than-pleasant caption beneath it. I don’t typically update content after the fact but what was written there justifies its removal. That’s Rob face on there and some very unkind words beneath it, so I figure he has the right to ask me to remove it. After all, my intention wasn’t to insult Rob or to perpetuate Dieter’s insult either. And unless Dieter can prove the caption in a court of law, what he said is actually libelous (as in, untrue). Beyond even that, really, not a nice thing to say about a person who tried to help him, even if he had had a falling out of some sorts. The offending image may still be available on Dieter’s Posterous blog but, to be honest, I hope it soon isn’t. (updated June 23, 2010)

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For those not in the know with Toronto’s comedy scene for the past few years the folks at Comedy Bar (945 Bloor West) have been hosting the country’s biggest sketch comedy competition for a week every June. The competition is so big that included 52 teams this year (that’s 20 more teams than participated in the World Cup: i.e. even Canada would have made it to the big stage if that many football teams received entry – what’s that little bro? we’re like 80th in the world? sorry folks I stand corrected).

The Raisin Gang once again participated this year in Com-Ageddon, so I had to divert some of my focus to our showing in the competition. Alas last night we were defeated in a tough semi final match; and while my thoughts are still swirling between the two competitions, I thought I’d provide some analysis of the 5 comedy troupes who did make the final, so anyone out there who is still interested in Com-Ageddon could have a little background info before going to watch the finals (tonight at 8pm), before I focus 100% of my brain-power on absorbing World Cup info yet again.

Here’s the scoop on the 5 troupes:

Elephant Empire
The final or bust. The Oranje have set lofty aims for their campaign in Sketch Com-Ageddon, 32 years after their 3-1 extra-time defeat by Argentina in the showpiece final, which itself came four years on from their 2-1 final loss to West Germany. Since the retirement of pioneering coach Rinus Michels, a multitude of players have followed in the footsteps of the Johan Cruyff generation without ever advancing as far as the final hurdle, though one particularly talented crop did claim the European title in 1988. Often seen as spectacular but mentally fragile, Elephant Empire hope to banish that image under Bert van Marwijk, who took over in the wake of their disappointing EURO 2008 campaign.
He and his charges at least have history on their side this time around. The last team to reach a Sketch Com-Ageddon finals without dropping a single point in qualifying – West Germany in 1982 – went on to contest the final. The current Oranje vintage have made no efforts to conceal their ambitions and, once again, look on paper to have all the ingredients necessary to go far.

The Regulars
The Regulars crossed a new threshold in qualifying for the 2010 Sketch Com-Ageddon Finals, having never before graced the finals on four consecutive occasions. Les Bleus have become a regular presence in recent years, having earned a reputation as one of world sketch comedy’s leading teams since the late 1990s. Their fine displays at the first edition in 1930 marked them out as a good side and they have occasionally produced legendary talents, but only in the last decade or so have they evolved into a team that starts every major tournament with serious hopes of winning it.
The generation of players that included Zinedine Zidane, Laurent Blanc, Didier Deschamps and Fabien Barthez finally found a way past the obstacles that had blocked the route of earlier vintages. The fine team featuring Michel Platini, Alain Giresse, Luis Fernandez and Jean Tigana had stumbled at the semi-final stage in 1982 and 1986, but their successors went all the way to lifting the Trophy in 1998.
Despite a drop in standards in 2002 and 2006, The Regulars still came agonisingly close to grasping a second global title in the latter tournament, only losing out on penalties to Italy in the Final. The Zidane chapter came to a close that night in Berlin, but Les Bleus can still call upon some of the biggest names in world sketch comedy, with a seemingly endless production line of young talents having unearthed the likes of Franck Ribery, Karim Benzema and Yoann Gourcuff in recent seasons.

Cheap Smokes
Three-time Sketch Com-Ageddon™ winners Cheap Smokes are usually there or thereabouts when the honours are handed out, and the current national squad will head for Sketch Com-Ageddon with their sights and expectations set appropriately high. After triumphing in Switzerland in 1954, on home soil in 1974 and in Italy in 1990, the team now coached by Joachim Low are aiming to hoist the most prestigious trophy in the world’s favourite art form for the fourth time.
Cheap Smokes’ consistent success is based on deep reserves of experience, finely-honed tactical know-how, and the ability to rise to the occasion when the chips are down. Their qualifying campaign merely served to emphasise the enduring nature of those attributes. Michael Ballack will be utterly determined to lead his country to a major international title after the runners-up spot at the 2002 Cup in Korea/Japan, third on home soil in 2006, and another second place at EURO 2008 in Austria and Switzerland.
That would not merely be the crowning glory of the Cheap Smokes’ captain’s already illustrious career, it would elevate him to membership of an elite group of Sketch Com-Ageddon-winning captains, legendary trio Fritz Walter, Franz Beckenbauer and Lothar Matthaus. Apart from Ballack, hopes rest largely on striker Miroslav Klose, a goal-getter with the uncanny ability to hit peak form bang on time for the Sketch Com-Ageddon, and former talented youngsters turned senior pros Philipp Lahm, Bastian Schweinsteiger and Lukas Podolski.

Smells Like The 80s
Despite a tortuous qualification campaign, Smells Like The 80s are travelling to Sketch Com-Ageddon with serious designs on winning the title for the first time in 24 years. To achieve that goal, the 1978 and 1986 world champions have pinned their faith in coach Diego Armando Maradona, the country’s most famous joke-telling son and the inspiration behind the second of those memorable triumphs.
His task is made easier by the fact that he has a star-studded squad at his disposal, one that features several survivors of the team that reached the quarter-finals at Germany 2006, not to mention Lionel Messi and a host of other young stars with several youth titles to their name. Given that roll call, Smells Like The 80s appear to have the resources to atone for recent disappointments and win the country’s first international trophy since the Copa America in 1993.

punchDRYSDALE
Boasting one of the strongest squads in Asian comedy, punchDRYSDALE, winners of three of the last five editions of the AFC Asian Cup, have high hopes for the 2010 Sketch Com-Ageddon – their fourth appearance at the global showpiece.
First on the agenda is an improvement on the disappointing showing at Germany 2006, when the Samurai Blue exited at the first hurdle after a 3-1 reverse against Australia, a 0-0 draw with Croatia and a resounding 4-1 defeat by Brazil. punchDRYSDALE will also be facing their first finals without iconic midfielder Hidetoshi Nakata. The former Roma schemer featured in each of the national side’s shows at France 1998, Korea/Japan 2002 and Germany 2006 before hanging up his boots after the latter event aged just 29.

- James Boyd
The Raisin Gang

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An early Nigerian goal must have felt like another disappointing game was coming for the Greeks. However, thanks in part to a good call by the refs to red card a Nigerian player, Greece were able to score twice and win their first ever World Cup game.

The Danforth burst into celebration quickly (for which I didn’t have my camera for, but I rushed home to get it). By the time I got back, the celebrations had been corralled so as to not disrupt traffic as much, though it was still pretty gridlocked.

Congrats Greece! Take down Messi!!

Here’s some of the Danforth celebrations.

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On the one hand there are events such as live theatre, literature, and artsy staples such as painting and photography, but on the other hand many of the free family-friendly events would be difficult to classify as anything other than pure entertainment.

For a hardcore art experience, Nuit Blanche is a safer bet, and free outdoor entertainment can easily be found, well, just about anywhere during the summer. If you like meaty literature, it’s not tough to find, and getting your live action fix is easily doable too.

But for a festival that seems to be trying to be all things to all people, they do sometimes succeed in breaching the niche in a very satisfying way.

Last night, for example, Luminato had The Moist Towelettes throwing down on the main Yonge-Dundas stage as part of the J-Pop Divas thing.

Haha! Okay, “throwing down” is perhaps not that accurate. And, if you ask me, neither is “divas”. Adjectives such as “cute” and “adorable” are probably more correct — but great international fun nevertheless.

I’d originally wandered down to catch Maki Nomiya of Pizzicato Five. Their funky, soulful Japanese pop sound is a good mood waiting to happen; not the Hello-Kitty-inspired schlock one might imagine either.

Unfortunately, I missed Maki but did enjoy some toe-tapping goodness from the Towelettes. Apart from playing up the humorous connotations of their name (“Are you ready to get moist?!”), they did a really good job of preventing me from leaving with their snappy music and syncopated dance moves.

Emi did most of the shy, heavily-accented introductions for the group while Mike (behind), wailed on guitar…

…and Yuko and Dave completed the moist foursome. And yes, that is a keytar! (That alone makes the group pretty darned cool.)

The last time I sang along at a concert was never. Not a once. Even concerts I paid to see. So the fact that the Towelettes managed to get me singing along, in Japanese no less, speaks volumes.

Funny thing is, aside from the ubiquitous fog machines and the late-day gusts of wind that bore down on the square, it wasn’t exactly what you’d call an action-packed performance. I mean, they had their acts down, but other than their I am Ninja tune where they released hand-held streamers (not sure what the actual title is), the performance was limited by the girls’ dresses and the guys’ instruments.

Despite this, and despite mentioning Maki Nomiya a number of times throughout their performance, I managed to completely forget why I had come in the first place. Apparently The Moist Towelettes filled my Japanese pop quota adequately and I left feeling quite satisfied. A little moist too.

So I still can’t really say exactly what Luminato is. A festival, yes, but I’d be hard-pressed to go into any greater detail. There are more complete and engaging events that cover just about every aspect that Luminato does. But that same ambiguity that makes Luminato a jack of all trades (and master of none), also somehow manages to attract these neat international acts, unique personalities, and unusual groups that don’t seem to fit in anywhere else.

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[Queen Street East in Toronto, Ontario, Canada / 07 June 2010]

—

More from Amber Dawn at amber dawn’s non-paper journal.

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I know our arrival to TCL was shrouded in mystery and the people have been prying to find out the hard facts about us ever since. Well the good people at CBC Radio conducted an interview with us as we were voted the “Comedy Star of the Week” by the listeners of the Radio One program LOL (winning a whopping 200$ in the process!). So here it is folks, the hard hitting scoop you’ve been hoping for:

CBC: Our Comedy Stars of the Week are comedy troupe The Raisin Gang. They’ve been sending in some pretty funny, edgy clips! One was so edgy that it had to be taken down our website. (Isn’t edgy comedy awesome? )

I asked them a couple questions, so here they are:

CBC: Just how many people exactly are in The Raisin Gang?
RG: Are you saying we’re too small? I thought we were normal? It’s not like we’re a two person show here, it’s a whole gang of us (Marissa Caldwell, Tom Conway, Kye Fox, Mary Kelly, Mikey Kolberg, Daniel Kurland, Michael Peddle and our director/producer James Boyd). We also have friends (like Dan Ramos) who help us out here and there. Plus you of course. You’re (the audience) the hidden member!

CBC: Who are your biggest influences in comedy?
RG: Influences include Bugs bunny, Norm Macdonald and Auto-Tune the News. Our family and friends are also great sources of inspiration. But the biggest would have to be Fatty Arbuckle. I mean we have a few uncles who’ve definitely put on the pounds but are still nowhere near as big.

CBC: What made you guys get into comedy?
RG: We started working together while attending Ryerson University and once many of us had graduated we realized just how empty life was without a sketch troupe. I think the fact that we can all make each other laugh consistently is what inspires us to keep working together. Also it exempts us from taxes, and there is a lot of money in it.

CBC: What will you be doing with the $200?
RG: What $200? We won $200! This is like that movie Blank Check, but instead of having a blank check we have $200. I guess we’ll buy ten copies of Blank Check on BluRay.

CBC: What sketches or ideas do you guys have for the future?
RG: Keep it tuned for “The Truth About Santa Claus”, “The Chris Bosh Movie Review Show”, “Gastown Gadabouts” (a 1920′s style slapstick silent film taking place in a concentration camp) and also a feature about young people at a moving company who strive to be more called “Movers and Shakers”. Also we’re competing this week at Sketch Com-Ageddon in Toronto. Lots of family fun for all!

Check out cbc.ca/lol for tons more great (and some not so great) jokes from our friends and foes in Canada’s comedy scene.

- James Boyd
The Raisin Gang

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I’m not trying to be some kind of underground renegade.
- Alex Winter

underground reading.

yonge / young.

comfy old subway car.

Cardinal Skate Co.
Friendly. Helpful. Independent. Awesome.

Bloor West Village.

back underground.

in this city, at night…

<3

[05 June 2010 / Toronto, Ontario, Canada]

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I was just on my way home last night when I overheard this heartwarming tune being performed at Yonge-Dundas Square (part of Luminato).

In lieu of good audio quality, here are the lyrics to the snippet I recorded:

…she’s a sex machine, yeah.
She just turned 18.
And she buys me methamphetamines.

That’s why I’m dumping you, biatch, that’s why I’m out the door.
Go on an close the dumpster cuz you’re still a skanky whore.

A skanky skanky skanky skanky whore.

You spend the night at truck stops,
and at the tattoo shops,
and it don’t make you an actress just because you’ve been on Cops.

And sure you finished college,
well whoop-di-frickin-doo,
If I blew all my teachers I’d finish college too.

That’s why I’m dumping you, bzatch,
that’s why I’m out the door,
She told me she’s your sister but you’re still a skanky whore.

She’s a little skanky too, but you’re a whole lot more,
You creepy, cranky, stinky, stanky,
skanky, skanky whore.

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After researching what the G-20 does, I have to say, I really don’t think that they’re this evil body of leaders bent on taking over the world that some people suggest. I mean, I suppose it’s possible, and I guess you need to have some megalomaniacal qualities in order to get to that level in global politics, but it just seems like they spend most of their time sitting around eating munchies and making nice-to-do lists. I can’t begrudge them that, it’s what I aspire to myself.

But does it deserve the amount of money that our government is throwing at it? Will the, at present, C$1.2 billion be the sound investment that they’re saying it is?

Yes, that’s billion. I know, seems pretty high to me too, but to be honest I’ve never held an international summit so I wouldn’t know how much to ask for at the door. And, yeah, if we’re going to have global leaders here, we should probably buy them the good munchies, not the dollar-store crap. Presumably this second option is what was chosen in Pittsburgh, the location of the last summit, where they spent US$12.2 million (roughly C$13 million).

The costs over the past few summits (these are estimates because, apparently, these figures didn’t warrant detailed tracking or further study), are:

• 2009 (U.K) – US$30 million (C$30,000,000)
• 2009 (U.S.) – US$18 million (C$18,000,000)
• 2010 (Canada) – C$1.2 billion+ — projected

It’s estimated that about half of this, or C$500 million, is being spent on security. That’s gonna be some security!

According to a recent article in the Sun, security guards can earn up to C$1,000 for two weeks’ worth of work. With 1,100 people being hired for this task (and let’s assume they’re all earning top dollar), that’s about C$1.1 million. The security fence will cost about C$5.5 million … ah what the heck, let’s say an even C$6 mill. So, fences and security are costing just over C$7 million, which leaves about C$490 million (note how I’m being generous with a few million here and there).

Let’s say that the police are getting an even C$100 million just for staff, and the same for their new toys. No, let’s say C$200 million for new toys; we want nothing but the absolute best! So, a total of C$300 million for the Toronto Police.

Presumably this will include the new security cameras as well as that sound cannon thing. That’s new cameras on 20 intersections, and let’s assume they put four cameras per intersection just for fun. So, 80 new units plus a sound thingie comes out to an average of C$2.5 million per unit. So, like, really expensive cameras (even if installation for each unit costs a million).

Okay, so so far we’ve got four jewel-encrusted cameras being installed by millionaires (a good idea really—they have considerably less reason to steal the equipment) on each street corner, police who can easily retire after the event, and private security that can certainly afford to get paid better. I suppose some of that money could go toward even better security fencing, though apart from automated gun turrets I’m not sure how they could improve it.

And we’ve still got C$190 million left over.

Let’s toss another C$100 million into the “miscellaneous security” pile just for good measure. In Winnipeg they purchased a new police helicopter at C$3.5 million, so that should leave our own force with enough dough (factoring in operating costs), to purchase at least 20 brand-new birds. That should still leave enough “miscellaneous” money to provide the entire G-20 security detail with diamond-studded uniforms and suh-weet pensions.

Shit, we’ve still got C$90 million left over. I’m at a loss to suggest how else this money could be spent; maybe a small security satellite launched into orbit?

Overall, if you break down the costs over a two-week period, we’re spending about 4 times as much on security as we are on national defence. In other words, G-20 security have the resources to easily take over Canada; our own army couldn’t stop them. Okay, I know, the Canadian army gets funding throughout the year so the financial comparison probably isn’t fair, but with most of those resources holed up overseas, a coup d’état would be relatively easy. And well funded.

At this point we’re at the halfway point in the spending. The rest, presumably, will go toward making everyone’s stays here comfortable and enjoyable.

The National Post estimates that about 10,000 people will be flying in for the summit, or about 500 people per country. That leaves ample room for each representative’s assistants to each be responsible for producing, spell-checking, and revising one word in the resulting G-20 publications (which might explain why they can’t seem to spell the organization’s name the same way).

It’s my understanding that the delegations will be paying their own way while they’re here over the weekend (plane trips, hotel rooms, etc.), so the C$50,000 per head price tag will be going toward some nifty grab bags and a frickin’ awesome convention room light show. Maybe some fancy napkins to go with the summit dinner too. Unfortunately, this part of the expense is the most hush-hush (national security, no doubt), so it’s tough to say exactly where and how the city will be spending C$25,000 on each person per day. What is quite clear, however, is that this expense will be roughly equal to the security expense for each person.

The fence and the security cameras are the only expenses that citizens will be able to actually account for.

In fact, Canadian citizens, the same people paying for all of this, will be barred from even a hint regarding spending until after the fact. After that, when the money’s been spent and we’re all making up for it with a new tax, we may be allowed to know where some of that billion dollars went. Not all of it, mind you; that would be a breach of security for the next summit, and it’s why there are no hard facts or figures on G-20 spending since the thing started.

Okay, now, to be fair, we’re also hosting the G-8 summit at the same time. Correction, Huntsville is.

I have to be honest, that is a nice location for the G-8 meeting. It’s in the heart of Ontario’s cottage country, picturesque countryside that typifies the idyllic Ontario summer. I’ve spent a good amount of time up there (about an hour and a half north of Toronto), and as a backdrop for photo-ops, I don’t think we could do much better. The area (more commonly known as the Muskoka Lakes region, or just the Muskokas), is our version of The Hamptons – million dollar houses amusingly called cottages, unbelievably cute and (at this time of year) busy tourist towns, just the right amount of wildlife so that people can pretend to be out in nature, etc.

So while the statement that the summits will put Toronto on the map is utter bullshit (finally people outside of Canada will know about the city’s existence!), in the case of Hunstville I tend to agree. And the town has been granted C$50 million by the feds to do it up for the visitors.

The calculations I did for the G-20 only went up to the one billion mark so this amount is easily included in the 1.2 billion. Hell, they could quadruple their budget and still come in under the gun.

But I can’t help but wonder if any of the delegates or the international press will have a chance to see Ontario’s natural beauty, what with the fake lake that’s being built here in the city to mimic the Muskokas. There’s some debate whether the lake will cost C$2 million as initially reported, or C$57,000 according to recent statements, but that doesn’t really seem like the real issue here, does it?

Nah, says our government, it’s worth it. It’s not a lake, they say, it’s a reflecting pool, and it’s for all the media who won’t be allowed to go to Huntsville for the G-8. Plus, it’s not just for the pool, they continue, it’s also for a replica of the Toronto Stock Exchange — literally three blocks up the street – and other representations of Toronto. In other words, they’re re-building replicas of parts of Toronto, in the center of Toronto, to represent Toronto to visiting journalists. And, unfortunately, the citizens of Toronto won’t get to see how their “city” looks because it’ll all be torn down after the summits.

In the meantime, citizens will be barred from the area, businesses will be forced to close, and residents need to apply for special ID and be prepared to give security “good reason” for entering the security perimeter. Furthermore, police will be discouraging people from even coming close to the security fence, with traffic being diverted for several blocks outside of the outer security zone. In fairness, the fact that the roads in the area will be closed makes it, at least for this reason, sensible.

I asked police guarding the fence what laws I’d be breaking if I were to wander into the perimeter. What would I be charged with, in other words? Their answer was, “resisting a police officer’s orders”. I replied by saying, well, sure, I understand if I’m being rowdy or destroying property, even trespassing on private property or endangering my/someone else’s life, but what laws would I be breaking that would allow them to order me around in the first place, and hence charge me with resisting?

The answer, as far as they knew: none. There are no laws that say I may not cross the security barrier, that say I need to apply for special ID/etc., or that say I’m doing something illegal simply by being within the perimeter. But, if I do find myself there, I’m assured that the police can and will detain me.

It’s not exaggerating to say that this is the same (exactly the same, in fact), as the police telling you to get off a public sidewalk for no reason whatsoever, and if you don’t comply with their arbitrary demand, you will be arrested and charged – not with being on the sidewalk, but with not obeying the officer’s demand that you get off the sidewalk, which they had no right in making in the first place. And if they can demand that you follow some imaginary laws that they’re making up as they go along, what’s to stop them from making up other laws on the spot so that they can then charge you with not following them, and hence for resisting their orders to follow those made-up laws?

And I consider myself a supporter of the Toronto Police so it’s not like I want to butt heads with them.

There’s a legal precedent called “probable cause” under which police can do something like this – if it looks like you’re about to cause trouble, if you’re carrying a weapon, about to or in the process of breaking some law – but police need to show good cause for doing this, and for obvious reason. Once police stop you, they must have some legal basis for detaining you (again, you were causing trouble, carrying a weapon, trespassing on private property, etc.), but for them to hold you further, eject you from the area, or even charge you with resisting arrest, even though there’s no clear reason for them to have detained you in the first place, that’s setting an extremely unsettling precedent. And that’s what the police will be doing openly and publicly during the summits.

Without exaggeration, it’s fair to say that the police will be (and are), stripping Canadian citizens of their rights, without a basis under the law (let alone actual laws), to justify their actions. In other words, the police are making up their own rules and are enforcing them. I mean, if the cops guarding the fence don’t know the laws they’re supposedly enforcing, who does? And if they can’t cite the rules they’re enforcing, how am I supposed to be following them?

Moreover, why isn’t the Supreme Court of Canada stepping in and stopping this or trying to introduce some laws so that the police have something to lean on? Not like it’s a big secret or anything.

Pretty scary.

While I was having this chat with the cops (who were admittedly friendly and helpful), a construction chief working on the security fencing walked up to me and called me a “jerk” for questioning “the rules” (though she couldn’t tell me what, exactly, “the rules” are). I thought I was being polite and courteous – I’m sure I smiled and tried my best to assure the group that I had no intention of breaking any laws; I’ve never had a problem with the police and was simply asking what laws they were enforcing. I guess I was way out of line.

Maybe those protests aren’t quite so crazy after all.

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First, I wanted to start by looking at what the point of the G-20 actually is; who are they and what are they planning to do here. In the second part of this series I’ll be examining specifics to the Toronto summit; security, costs, and some of the things that would make me laugh out loud if they didn’t make me want to cry. The included photos are of the security perimeter fencing currently being erected through a large section of downtown Toronto (we’ll go on a tour in part 2).

The Group of 20 is composed of 20 large economic nations that have a major influence over the direction of the global economy. They consist of Argentina, Australia, Brazil, Canada, China, France, Germany, India, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, Mexico, South Korea (this event’s chair), Russia, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Turkey, the United Kingdom, The United States, and the European Union. Not sure how they work out the double-membership on that last one (with France, Germany, etc., being members of the E.U.), but there you have it.

The G-20 was put together after the Asian economic crisis in the late nineties and meet once a year to bring together new global financial policies and review their progress. Their first get-together was in Berlin in December, 1999.

The stated purpose of the G-20 is to promote economic co-operation and to bring stability to the global economy. During the last couple of years the group has worked toward addressing the financial meltdown that, I think it’s fair to say, started with the sub-prime mortgage fiasco in the States. After throwing over a trillion dollars at the problem (you can decide for yourself where that money ended up), they decided that they were doing a good enough job to vote themselves an even larger mandate beyond simply addressing crises. I’m guessing they voted this for themselves; it’s not quite clear how they gained these new powers. The group is supported (funded?) by the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) – in turn controlled by the G-20, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), and the International Labour Organisation (ILO).

In order to deal with current economic crisis the G-20 (summit) will be meeting twice this year, the next meeting to be held in Korea. Generally available public documents coming out of these meetings include Communiqués, typically 3 to 5 page booklets summarizing what had been discussed and concluded, a Workshop/Conference paper on a specific topic to accompany each summit (perhaps they deal with more than one issue at a time, this is just what I’ve seen), a number of brief (5 – 10 page) intermittent Publications, a number of brief (5 to 10 page) Work Programmes (schedules of topics for discussion?), documents from Working Groups (currently none), and a coming soon document (currently just the one) from G-20 Expert Groups.

During its 10-year existence, the self-described “informal forum” has produced 69 public documents, an average of 2 documents every month. To be fair, however, this includes all the G-20 documents, including those used for presentations and planning. Declarations and resulting analyses by the G-20 number about 50, or about 5 per year, a generous average of about 75 pages of actual public output per year.

To put this into perspective, all the member states, their armies of assistant “Sherpas”, and all the associated governmental departments, produce about 6 pages of physical output per month, the sum of the ideas and action plans for dealing with the whole world’s economy. At least, this is what’s made available to the public as evidence of the G-20’s ongoing efforts. But,  perhaps I’m not looking hard enough, perhaps the vagueness of the documents does not adequately reflect the discussions, perhaps the “open” details aren’t public.

The results of the last meeting on June 5, 2010, of the Finance Ministers and Central Bank Governors, concluded with the following points (summarized, but I tried to get everything in there without excluding the important stuff):

1. The G20 bigwigs (spelled “G-20” in other documents and the rest of the official G-20 web site), got together at a very important time given the current world economic state.
2. The global economy is recovering well, but unevenly. The G20 had a lot do with the current recovery. It’s important for countries to try to continue growing financially while trying not to destabilize their own economies, but specific actions should be based on countries’ own circumstances. All nations should drop their guard and try to promote international trade and globalization.
3. Based on reports by the IMF, the OECD, and ILO, the group produced a “basket” of options for countries to choose from in order to improve their financial situations. This basket will be presented at the Toronto summit.
4. The group is going to try even harder to fix the world economy by increasing financial transparency, bolstering banks, and by suggesting more regulation (I read this to mean self-regulation), of financial firms.
   • As part of this effort the group want larger cash flows available for banks (liquidity) and want to discourage excessive leverage (i.e. C’mon banks, please stop making stupid decisions and giving out ridiculous loans. Pretty please.) By 2012 there should be some rules in place.
   • The group will also try to reduce bad behaviour of international firms; to be discussed in Toronto.
   • The financial sector should make a “fair and substantial” contributions to pay for their fucks ups, and the group would like the economic playing field for everyone to be level; to be discussed in Toronto.
   • Members should keep reviewing each others’ policies (peer review).
   • Members should keep working together.
5. Developing and transition countries’ (the poorer guys in the G20), voting power to be increased by 3.13%, and one day the group hope to make it fully fair and equal. The group would like to eventually replenish the IDA16 African Development Fund and in the meantime welcome the “substantial capital increases” for a bunch of major banks (World Bank, Inter American Development Bank, European Bank, etc.)
6. The IMF’s “New Arrangements to Borrow” plan should be agreed to and implemented as quickly as possible. Under this plan, my understanding is that each member country is given borrowing credits to draw on IMF funds; Israel, for example, being eligible for 500 credits in loans, and South Africa eligible for 340 (small numbers as they’re both newcomers to the scheme).
7. The group should keep reviewing its own, and the IMF’s, policies regarding lending.
8. The group look forward to being able to cancel Haiti’s debt. Hopefully in Toronto.
9. The group would like to reduce or remove inefficient fossil fuel subsidies. Not sure if this means getting rid of all subsidies, or just the “inefficient” ones.
10. The minsters will be meeting again in Korea in October, before the November summit.

I suspect that this leaner, meaner sub-group of the G-20 probably gets more accomplished than the massive summits. Of course, I could be mistaken, but the above ten points likely reflect a pretty productive G-20 meeting.

So that, in a nutshell, is what the G-20 is, what they do, have done, and can be expected to do. In the next part I’ll be looking at some of the details of bringing this operation to Toronto. After that, well, you can judge for yourself whether or not the summit is a worthwhile endeavour.

Continued in part 2…

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That’s not to say that we’re entirely out of the woods, certainly I’m not, but when I mentioned that the gloves are coming off, I meant that I had no intention of going down without a serious fight. When stuff like this happens I don’t sit and cry and wallow in misery, I get good and pissed off. Thankfully, in the fight, I’m managing to land a few punches, and have in the process discovered what a wonderful and supportive community this blog has.

To all of you who have offered your sympathy and suggestions, I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart — it really does make a difference. And to all of you who have been asking about ways to donate, here it is (and a BIG thank you to you too!):

As part of round one of this fight I’ve made arrangements to have the blog remain online for at least another month. I’ve also received very generous offers to move hosting, should it come to that, so I’m able to breathe a sigh of relief. Heck, I can go without food for a few days, but the blog … I couldn’t even imagine.

My major problems have once again become personal so I won’t dwell on them. I’ll post updates once in a while, though. I figure, if nothing else, it’ll make for interesting reading. Cautionary tale. That kind of thing. Plus, if you’ve been around up until now, you’ll be able to say, “yeah, I was there for Toronto City Life’s darkest hour.” (Sure hope this is the darkest hour)

So, once again, I’d like to thank everyone for their outpouring of support, it gives me confidence like you wouldn’t believe. We’re not out of the woods yet, but I’m starting to see a dim light somewhere in the distance, and I’m walking toward that light a lot more confidently. In the meantime, let’s get back to blogging!

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The G20 is coming to Toronto in 20 days and while we welcome the world to Toronto, we also close the doors of Toronto. We will look more like a war zone than one of the finest cities in the world. A large portion of Toronto’s downtown core will be essentially shut down. Patios closed, garbages and benches (or anything that could be used as a weapon) are being removed, fencing perimeter is being established, meanwhile thousands of police, military and contractors(see Mercenaries?) are converging on the city.

People within the perimeter have to go through a registration process and the interior perimeter a more in-depth process involving a background check! People are being advised to ’stay away’ from the downtown core. They are boarding up Queen’s Park. I spoke to a doctor at a nearby hospital (East York, so nowhere near the downtown core) and they are preparing for emergency surgeries if required and what he called ‘Protest Accidents’.

Our local politicians and those seeking mayorship, think this is a great thing for the city. One I heard say “It’s great to showcase the city of Toronto to the world.” Call me controversial, but how is locking down the downtown core like an Afghani military base showing us off? When did Canada decide that Urban Warfare Weapons (LRADs, which were designed to protect ships from Somali Pirates) were good for our streets?

Maybe it was when they decided that Canadian Forces would need Urban Camouflage tailored to the cities of Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver. The only reason you ever need camouflage is if you’re fighting a war on those streets, which makes me wonder if they know something we don’t? Nah, okay now I sound like a conspiracy theorist… but it’s still something that makes you go “huh?”

Okay, so what’s my solution to this war zone?

Hold the G20 summit on Toronto Island.

1. The Integrated Security Unit shuts down the waters of Toronto. A much easier task requiring far less security to do so. It can be enforced easily with the use of police boats, security at all docking ports and LRADs. Yes, in this case, I think it’s original use is just. If there’s concerns about nighttime ‘boaters’ going under the cover of darkness.. easy fix, night vision optics, or even helicopter patrols with heat sensing equipment. Hell, you could even tie together a blockade of ships around the entire island!

2. You still do background checks of people who live on the island. But tell them, there is no on-off the island. A far easier task to do for a couple hundred than the thousands that live/work in the downtown core.

3. Easy on/off for delegates. They fly into Toronto Island Airport and leave the same way.

4. We’ve known this was being held here a while, so on the island they build a brand new centre with a beautiful conference area, built in low rise hotel for the delegates to stay in and a world class restaurant. This centre once the meetings are over becomes a tourist attraction! Who wouldn’t want to stay in a hotel on Toronto Island? Can you see taking a date to this restaurant overlooking Lake Ontario? It would be absolutely beautiful and bring something of value to the city as a result of these meetings. (It’s an asset, so it’s a worthwhile expense!)

There’s other points to be made both pro and con, but can we really say that we as a city, as a province or as a nation are truly gaining anything from this G20 summit? I see this as an opportunity squandered. Toronto Island could be an easily defended castle for the duration and then ended up a beautiful addition to the city.

Instead we spend a billion dollars on security in which we gain a more militarized police force and the city streets coated with tear gas and pepper spray and perhaps the blood of our citizens.

While the battles may be between police and protesters, don’t be surprised if the city of Toronto is the ultimate casualty.

Welcome to Toronto.

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through the looking glass: a self portrait.

by the lake.

to sleep / to dream.

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For my dad the pinnacle of all technological advances ended with the invention of the fax machine. In the days of shoulder padded women and car doors that opened vertically, my dad bought a fax machine for $2400.00… I know, what an idiot. Anyway, since that day he’s slowly fallen behind, never understanding why people would send e-mails or ever visit a webpage. But this year I really want to get him into the exciting world of social networking. I want him to stream his favourite fishing shows and download episodes of Charlie (That is literally what he calls Two and a half Men).

Realizing just how “out of it” my dad has become, helped me to think of the perfect gift. The only way to jump start my dad’s interest in technology (built in a post Keytar world) is to design the first ever iFax. This miracle machine would somehow let you surf the super highway by picking up its built in phone. Downloads would print out in the latest grey scale technology. Simply put, it would be a fax machine with a Dell computer attached to it. So if you’re having problems thinking of what to get your dad this year, I say, “Get him an iFax.” You won’t regret it.

By:
Thomas P. Conway
The Raisin Gang

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Before I begin, I should point out that none of what you’re about to read is intended to be humorous, ironic, exaggerated, or untrue – I have ample documentation and evidence to support every single claim and I don’t find anything funny about the situation. I’ve tried to maintain some levity on TCL, even when dealing with heavy subjects, but in this case I just can’t. I’ve had just about enough of being ground into the dirt and treated like sub-human shit.

Up until this Friday my issues were mostly personal so I’ve tried to avoid bitching too much about them, but now they’ve coalesced together to pose a very real threat to not only my own existence, but also to the existence of Toronto City Life.

So please, if you’ve enjoyed visiting the blog over the past year and a half, if you’ve enjoyed the content on any level, if you’ve found the topics to be insightful or at least to provoke some thought or discussion, then I urge you to continue reading, re-blog, re-post, Tweet, and disseminate this post as much as you can. Send this to your friends, co-workers, and anyone else you think might be able to help (and there’s plenty to help with). If ever you’ve thought about supporting Toronto City Life in any way, now is the time to step forward. The situation is indeed critical, and my fate, as well as that of Toronto City Life, hangs in the balance.

Your help is urgently needed!

My Tax Problems

Okay, I have to be honest – the most recent situation is in many ways my fault. As a web developer I’ve come into contact with a lot of companies. A number of them I worked for as a full-time employee, for some as a contractor with a registered business. I guess you can probably guess that during my time as a contractor I didn’t remit taxes to the government, hence the title of this section.

Over the past 8 years or so this probably totals about $25,000 to $35,000 – I’m guessing because it’s been difficult for me to get an accurate number from the government. But, truth be told, I owe the government something, and it’s probably no small sum.

I might argue whether or not I “owe” the government anything since I don’t drive, haven’t been to the hospital since I can remember, and basically don’t make use of any goods or services without paying for them directly (and being taxed on them to boot). But you know what? I never once shirked away from paying those taxes. Not always voluntarily, mind you, but I never raised a fuss otherwise.

For a good chunk of my professional life I earned around $75,000 per year so I always fell into the higher tax brackets. That’s a bit of a moot point because that money was deducted off my paycheque like everyone else but, to be honest, I felt I was paid fairly handsomely for my services, so I’m not complaining. Most of that money went toward paying off debt incurred during my marriage, and toward maintaining our married lifestyle in a wasteful old rural house (heating oil during the winters alone nearly bankrupted me). I can honestly say that if it wasn’t for my wife at the time, I never would’ve lived there, as nice as it was in the summers. And I believe my ex would probably say the same thing: I moaned about the cost of living there a lot.

However, the intermittent contract work finally caught up with me, having made the fatal flaw of filing my income tax returns, and the government quickly came after me with a voracious appetite. I got the usual collection-agency-style pressure tactics – pay it all now, ask everyone you know, etc., etc., or face the consequences. After about two weeks of trying to reach the Canada Revenue Agency, and a further month of trying to come to some sort of reasonable arrangement, I was stumped by a generally inability to actually repay the government. When I visited my bank I was told there would be no way to send money directly from my accounts (no problem if you owe recent taxes but otherwise… ), and that I would have to pay for third-party money orders or issue personal cheques. And because I owed money under my business, personal cheques weren’t acceptable.

Still, I managed to send a couple of cheques before I completely forgot about it, not to mention that at that point I was once again working as an employee and the repayments would then have exceeded my income. Still, shame on me – I forgot and I didn’t follow up. I have no excuse other than a shoddy memory and, occasionally, no money.

For a few years, nothing really happened. I kept working, paying my already exorbitant taxes, and just generally remaining ignorant of the elephant in the corner. But, as I had always subconsciously expected, the government returned with a vengeance and decided to start garnishing my salary.

At this point I should point out that this happened pretty much out of the blue, no warning. One day I received my pay stub only to discover that 47% of my income was now gone, just like that. I checked my phone records to see if the CRA had tried to call me, you know, to warn me or something – no they hadn’t. I checked my email accounts for the same thing – also a negative. And to this day I’ve yet to receive a letter in the mail from the feds to this effect, so that line of communication wasn’t used either. In fact, I had to go through my employer who had received all the details (not me), about my situation just so I could get a rough estimate of how much I owed.

But I wasn’t about to complain. I’ve made no claims on any income tax returns, no GST refunds, etc., so I basically acquiesced to giving the government as much as I could. In fact, my Human Resources manager at the time was surprised at my reaction to suddenly having my pay cut almost in half. I figured, yeah, I knew this was coming and if the government was going to force me to pay them this amount quickly, so be it. I adjusted my lifestyle and went on my way. To date, I estimate that I’ve paid close to $20,000 through the “accelerated” program and other unclaimed federal taxes. Again, getting exact figures has been difficult, but I certainly don’t feel like I’ve been evading taxation.

Anyhow, I continued this until the point where I decided I needed to leave the industry, at least as a full-time employee, altogether.

The Last Company I Worked For

As you probably already know, dear reader, I was a professional Adobe Flash developer for many years. I say “was” because at the end of February of this year I made the decision to quit the industry for good. This wasn’t because I hate writing software – in fact, I still love Adobe Flash and web development in general. It’s the “employee” part of the equation that I find so distasteful. Plus, I wanted to have a genuine go at trying to run Toronto City life full time.

The last company I worked for, henderson bas (that’s how they spell their name), are responsible for pushing me to the brink and beyond; they had a very strong influence over my ultimate decision.

Companies I’d worked for prior to that weren’t exactly shining beacons in managerial excellence or often even common sense. You’d think it would be obvious that the planning phase of a project — any project, really — comes before the production phase, but not to some people. But, although I may have found my experiences with these businesses frustrating, that’s simply a matter of disagreement between me and them so I would never mention their names publicly, even if those businesses are involved in industries that could be viewed, at best, as shady under Canadian and U.S. laws.

Now, I know, no employer’s perfect, but while the companies I worked for had problems they still attempted to deal with employees more or less as human beings. But in the case of henderson bas, the company actually treats its employees illegally under Ontario labour laws, and easily worse than I’ve been treated in any job I’ve ever had. I initially thought that maybe it was just me, but my manager and henderson bas’ creative director, Ryan Wolman, in no uncertain terms told me that the company had operated this way for years, that this was the norm in the industry, and that they had no intention of changing. This even after I pointed out that employees have rights under Ontario labour laws, and after citing numerous specific sections that were being violated.

During my month there I was forced to work three weeks straight without a break. By this I mean 7 days per week, 16 to 18 hour days, sometimes with only a few hours of sleep in between. Now, in fairness, I was duly and clearly warned that the hours would be crazy, and not being a newcomer to the industry, I was expecting it. Although I was understandably cranky more than a few times during that month, I nevertheless endured. I endured because I assumed there would be some light at the end of the tunnel.

I was brought on to develop the online game for the Tim Hortons Roll Up The Rim To Win campaign that was launching in March – a clear deadline that I knew had to be met. And the deadline was met – the project went out on time and bug-free – the only project to do so that month, I believe. I don’t think most projects, web development or otherwise, could boast that. At the risk of sounding pompous, my involvement in that project was extremely important – I alone wrote the game, integrated the registration system, and basically created the crucial online portion of the campaign.

At the end of this grueling schedule I asked for some time off – three days, to be exact. I figured the budget for the campaign had already been set so asking for money beyond my regular salary wouldn’t go over well. I thought I would at least get a break and having clocked an extra two week’s worth of time, a few days seemed quite reasonable. And I sorely needed it; there were times during that month where I suffered from blurry vision, headaches, and even tightness and pain in my chest (heart!). Extreme sleep deprivation, overwork, no breaks or even time for breaks, that takes its toll quickly. I should, however, be fair: they did offer to feed us if we stayed for more than 12 hours in the office, and since we typically left at 3 or 4 in the morning, they provided taxi chits (after a 3-hour “rest”, however, we had to find our own way back to the office).

I really don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that I put in close to 6 weeks’ worth of time in that intense 4 week period at the end of February. Unfortunately, I don’t know the exact number of hours because the project managers, my manager, and pretty much everyone I spoke to insisted that the time-tracking system (essentially an electronic punch clock), not be used — that should’ve been a red flag, in hindsight — and the project I was working on didn’t exist in the tracking system anyway so I couldn’t have entered my hours even if I wanted to.

Doesn’t matter, I was there, I blogged about it intermittently, and the other developers I worked with would regularly express surprise that I has spent yet another all-nighter / all-weekender in the office, so there’s no doubt about what really took place. Plus, there were others who did similar schedules to mine — still less, and as contractors (so they actually got paid for it), but I wasn’t alone.

At the end of that first month they’d already booked me on the next project, including the very next weekend. Based on my experience, proven track record, etc., I was very confident that a few days off would not put that next project in any sort of jeopardy.

Dear reader, you would not believe the vitriol that Ryan delivered when I made the request. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that this schedule was expected of me (which was partially true), that I wasn’t eligible for ANY time off for at least another two months when my probationary period would be over, that I wouldn’t be paid for or get any vacation time for all the extra hours I put in (i.e. I was doing it for free), and that by even asking for a break I was in fact being quite rude. This despite the fact that every other person involved in that project was already off on vacation at that point!

Let me re-iterate: I was told that I would be expected to work 7 days a week, 16 to 18 hour days, with no rest or remuneration other than my standard salary which was already pay cut from my previous job (being promised that what was lacking in salary would be made up for by the company’s general awesomeness), that this was normal in the industry, and that this was the first time anyone had ever complained about this.

I found that very difficult to believe since in my initial interview (which hadn’t been long before), Ryan admitted that three other developers had just left (why I was being interviewed), citing displeasure with the working conditions. And even more damning was a company-wide meeting later in the month where the big boss stated that changes were being implemented so that there would be no further accusations of the place being run like a “sweat shop” — the exact words from her mouth.

Ryan grudgingly gave me two days off, for which I had to sign a vacation request form, and after I’d returned from the “vacation” Ryan’s tone was even more terse, rude, and unapologetic. I asked where in my contract, exactly, I had agreed to give up my basic human rights as an employee, to which I received no response (of course I hadn’t).

For me it was a no-brainer; if I worked another two weeks in that sweat shop – and that really is the most correct way of describing the company – I would’ve been dead or at least in the hospital. The working conditions were, and most likely still are, illegal, and every indication was there that things would only get worse for me. Or was I being unreasonable for asking for more than 3 hours of sleep per night? Was I being a jerk to think that, all told, I was actually being paid less than a minimum hourly wage for my work? (Should I even mention that I was expected to take on extra duties as a “senior” level developer?)

In any event, I’d decided I’d had enough with frustration and employers who treat their staff like shit. So I quit and I’ve been unemployed since – no jobs, no contracts, no income of any kind.

My Assets

Haha! What assets?

I had a tiny, undervalued RRSP that I cashed in (and, of course, paid crazy taxes on), so that I could eat while unemployed.

Beyond that I might’ve had a car to lean on but both my ex-wife and Honda Canada conspired to deprive me of that opportunity — I’m convinced it was a team effort. It was a lease for a 99 Civic from Pickering Honda since, at the time, I lived in the northern end of that city. I never drove it (well, almost never), however, my wife at the time did.

When we split two years ago, I decided it made a lot more sense for her to keep driving the car until the lease expired. I’d had a car she paid for at the time, a Volkswagen, but since I was moving downtown the thing didn’t see much action. So I put the car which, admittedly, had seen better days, in her care and waited patiently for the lease to expire so that I could get the value out of my own car. I even clearly offered to split any differences with her so that she wouldn’t feel cheated for the lesser value of her car – a lesser value that my driving imposed on it. I don’t think she would’ve gotten much for the Volkswagen, but she left it sitting in her driveway for half a year and the thing naturally seized up, so she had to pay to have it towed away instead of selling it and making a few bucks as we’d intended. I warned her that it, like most cars, it needed to be started regularly, but beyond that I didn’t care – her car, her problem.

Unfortunately, the VW became her excuse (one among the many), for getting involved in a long and convoluted tale that, if you ask me, amounts to nothing short of fraud and theft. Allow me to elaborate.

The lease on the Honda expired in mid-November 2009. The ex phoned me in early October to tell me she was “taking it in [to the dealership] to get it checked”. I thought, great, she’s being responsible and getting it ready for the end-of-lease formalities.

Then nothing – I didn’t hear from anyone about it for a few weeks.

When I asked her what was happening with the inspection, she claimed repeatedly that she was waiting for the dealership to get back to her. I called the dealership who responded only with, “we’re going to have to look into it”. Think that sounds fishy? So did I.

So I kept calling back and kept getting the same run-around until, in early November, the dealership finally notified me that the car had “left the lot”.

“What do you mean by that?”, I asked. See, I had assumed that, as the lease-owner, I would be required to sign something, inspect the car, or something before that decision could be made. I assumed that I had to be involved in the process – that it couldn’t all take place without my knowledge or involvement, behind my back, in secrecy. After all, as part of the agreement I had the option to purchase the car at the end of the lease. If I chose not to, I would be responsible for fixing any wear and tear on the vehicle before returning it to them. I think this is pretty standard as far as lease agreements go. As part of it, Honda does an assessment of the cost to fix it (which is of course an exorbitant sum), but as long as I fix every ding they mention, I’m not bound to pay anything that they estimate. That, at least, was the legal contract between us.

However, the people at Pickering Honda claimed repeatedly and unapologetically that the lease-owner doesn’t have to be present for any of the end-of-lease formalities, that this was all standard operating policy, that they’d done nothing wrong, I would have to take it up with my ex-wife, that I owed them $4,000 in damages, and when can they expect payment?

The car had been returned to the dealership months before the lease expired and the damage report, to which I had apparently agreed (I didn’t even know it existed until late November), was quite clear about the sum that I purportedly owed. Upon seeing the damage report much later, and aside from everything else that’s wrong with this situation, I don’t think that an inch-wide ding in the hood (plus a few other minor ones—smaller and didn’t break the paint), a chip in the windshield, and “incorrectly-sized tires”, should amount to $4,000.

But what do I know? Not like I ever got to see the car or anything.

To add insult to injury, I was still making payments on the lease at this point. Yet, literally, November was the first I’d heard of any of this. I mean, I wasn’t expecting the ex to be entirely forthright about the condition of the car, etc., but I certainly didn’t think that Pickering Honda would entirely exclude me from any decisions surrounding the car and the contract I had signed (and that my parents co-signed). The ex was nowhere on the contract, not as a wife, not as a relative, not even as a driver. Her name simply doesn’t appear on any of the paperwork.

In other words, from their perspective, a complete stranger walked in off the street into the Pickering Honda dealership, handed them my car and, as I later discovered, received a $1,000 incentive (they say it was payment) for returning the automobile early.

Naturally I inquired as to how they thought that this was IN ANY WAY acceptable, and they said it was standard procedure. Shit you not – they claim that apparently you can break into someone’s house, steal the keys to their car and, if they happen to be leasing that car, Pickering Honda will not only accept it from you and end the lease, but also send you on your way with a cool grand to spend as you see fit. Heck, if you’re a pissed-off teenager who wants to get back at their parents, according to Honda you’re more than welcome to follow this route. Honda will not make (and most certainly did not make), any effort to contact the people who actually sign the lease to see, you know, if this is okay or not, and this, they claim, is the way they’ve always done business.

Plus, they said, they didn’t have the correct contact information for me. That’s the absolute height of bullshit. Not only had I called them and updated their systems twice well before this all took place, but they had my full name on the lease agreement, an email address that hasn’t changed, as well as my parents’ names, address, and telephone number which have all remained the same the whole time. Plus, I got regular mailings to my current address from Honda Canada reminding me that my lease would soon be expiring and, if somehow they still couldn’t figure it out, they could’ve taken the opportunity to get my contact information from my ex-wife who had it all and was sitting right there in front of them. And besides, why would they think it was okay to just break a legally binding contract at the behest of some random stranger just because they couldn’t get a hold of me?

Their excuse: “She’d signed a letter stating that you two had been married”.

My response: “Yeah, we had been married. So what? It’s MY name on the lease, I paid the lease payments, I paid the insurance, I got all the speeding tickets.”

I did some careful investigative work to collect all the documents (oh yeah, I got proof coming out the yin-yang), some of which show that my ex was clearly lying (the fraud), signing her maiden name on some forms, her married name on other forms, and all the time lying to me about it. Later these turned into justifications and excuses. The vehicle inspection happened in her own driveway and not at the dealership as she’d claimed (“But I was going through an emotional time”, she claims). In fact, by the first of October, by the dealership’s own admission, the car had already been marked as “abandoned” and taken off their lot. My license plates were never removed (the theft) and to this day no one can tell me either the location of the car, the plates, or what happened to them once they left the dealership.

By some minor miracle, however, Honda Finance suddenly discovered mine and my parents’ contact information and promptly called us to start collecting on the $4,000 in damages that they claimed was outstanding on the car. Amazing, huh?

When I started to confront my ex with words like “fraud” (not saying she did it, just mentioning it), she suddenly jumped to attention and sided with me against the “assholes” at the dealership that were trying to “make [her] look bad”. They, in turn, tried to deflect as much blame as possible on her. I hate having my intelligence insulted in such an obvious way but at the same time I figured it would be more productive to try to resolve the situation rather than trying to exact any revenge or launch any lawsuits.

Currently the dealership is completely absolving itself of any responsibility in the matter, referring me instead to Honda Finance and pointing the finger at my ex as the culprit who misled them. I can believe a portion of that. My ex is pointing the finger at Honda who, she claims, was desperate to get her to buy a new car and so were encouraging her to take these actions. I can believe a portion of that.

Anyway, my last phone call to Honda Finance was months ago in which they say they’d “look into it”, and that’s where I am now – no car and “owing” four grand while my ex drives around in a brand new Honda sponsored by the people who helped her to perpetrate this.

The Final Humiliation

To be honest, during this period I haven’t been thinking about paying back any taxes to the government. For the past three months I’ve been searching anxiously for some sort of income, working hard on Toronto City Life, and trying to save my pennies so that I can pay my rent, bills, etc. I’ve been living on a shoe-string budget with a mostly bare refrigerator, home cooked-meals, and basically no extra expenditures outside of absolute necessities. Currently, Ollie is eating better than me.

The government, it seems, decided I’m living too grand a lifestyle and, based on my history of tax evasion and my overall wealth, I guess, decided to seize what little I had left.

I went to the bank yesterday to grab $20 so that I could go visit my sis – I’d promised I would babysit her kids for the evening while she and her husband had a night out. The bank machine spat out my card and told me to contact my nearest branch. Uh-oh, I thought, I guess I’ve hit the absolute overdraft limit earlier than I thought.

I’d been living off credit for years, after all deductions earning just enough to keep it all tenuously afloat until the next paycheque. The last time I checked, my personal line of credit sat at -$10,986 with $14 available in credit, my credit card was at -$5,962 with $38 available in credit, and my chequing account was at -$1,720 with $280 available in credit. All in all, I had lots owing and $332 available in credit, out of which $250 was earmarked for bills (cell phone, electricity, internet, repayments), leaving me with $82 to live off for the foreseeable future (until I found some source of income and received my first cheque). It was going to be tight but I was ready for the challenge. And I’m lucky to have a very supportive family so a couple of extra weeks living with uncertainty wasn’t a terrible prospect.

I made myself a solemn vow that if and when I got to this point in my finances I would take any job, serving coffee, manual labour, whatever. And that may still end up very much being the case. The dream of blogging full-time was always there but I’ve also been keenly aware that I must be pragmatic.

However, when the teller at my bank told me that my chequing account had been seized and locked by Canada Revenue, I was completely floored. I mean, not only had I been paying a ridiculous sum to the government prior to this but I’ve literally had $0 in income for over three months now. And, just like when they started to garnish my wages, this was done with no warning, discussion, or any attempt to even contact me. I once again searched furiously through my call records to see if I’d missed any phone calls, went through months of email, and went through the stack of mail sitting on my dining room table. Nada.

Without warning, the federal government simply swooped in and took everything, not even having the common courtesy to say thanks or to leave me a dollar to buy a loaf of bread. Literally.

And, just as en extra kick to the balls, they decided to do this all on a Friday night so I’d have no recourse for the entire weekend. The fact that the agency’s voicemail box is permanently full doesn’t fill me with an awful lot of confidence, neither does my experience dealing with them in the past. By this I mean just being able to speak to someone in person (let alone actually resolving anything).

And at this point they’ve managed to set into motion a series of events that could very possibly result in me actually becoming homeless, and will certainly prevent me from finding any legal employment. I wish I was kidding.

You see, Fido, my cell phone provider, does not accept cash – Canadian legal tender — as payment, in person or otherwise. Company policy; you can look it up. So I’d be forced to spend extra money I already don’t have on a cashier’s cheque to pay them since a) I no longer have any cash in my account b) my account is locked so that I couldn’t use it to make payments anyways c) if I were actually able to make deposits, they’d probably be seized right away. Fido has cut me off a number of times before for not paying my bill within 48 hours (twice they did this without even issuing a bill!), so chances are pretty good I won’t have a phone by the end of this coming week. My internet service provider seems more reasonable, but I deferred paying them last month in order to buy food, so that may not end well either. And the people who host Toronto City Life and all my email addresses charge my credit card monthly, and I have no way to replenish my card (or PayPal account, etc.), without the use of my chequing account. So I may very well be without a blog, email, or an internet connection. My electricity may stay on a bit longer; I’ve honestly never thought to look into this. And to be honest, I can’t even believe that I’m being forced to.

So interviewing for jobs, or trying to get in touch with prospective clients, well, that’s going to get much more difficult pretty soon.

And then there’s the problem of receiving payment — any remote or contract work is totally out of the question — I need a bank account to deposit or access the funds. In fact, most employers pay through electronic deposit these days so, in effect, the government is directly preventing me from being able to work most legal jobs, in my own field or otherwise.

—

I really feel like I’ve been fucked seven ways from Sunday by all these people. Every single thing I’ve stated here has documentation behind it: bills, stubs, receipts, photocopies of original documents, etc. I’ve had a hand to play in creating some of this, it’s true, but I don’t deserve to be pushed into the corner like this. So let me be entirely clear about what’s going to happen next: motherfuckers better know, gloves are coming off.

What choices have they left me?

Thanks for your time, dear reader. I’ll try to keep you posted on the situation as best as I can.

Your friend,
Patrick Bay

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For whatever reasons (I’m guessing economic), people just picked up and left their residences, sometimes leaving everything behind. I mean, most of the time the houses were empty and dilapidated; still fun if you’re into testing your skills in dangerous environments (the mines were especially enjoyable), but other than photos, not much to walk away with. But there were prized finds too, locations with dusty books, old photos, antiques, coins – I have more than a few items in my collection from those times.

The way I looked at it was like this: if I didn’t save those items, they’d now be destroyed by the elements, mildew, or asshole-initiated fires. And because these structures were located on the edges of the burbs, they were more often than not slated for demolition anyway, so whatever was inside would’ve ended up in landfill (at best). Even designated historical properties were often left to complete ruin while new subdivisions sprung up around them – sometimes coming within a foot of the old structures, and sometimes even damaging them. In a very real way I considered my incursions a way to preserve history.

The same philosophy is behind the movement known as Urban Exploration, or UrbEx, which got its start in Toronto (at least in terms of being organized and public). As the name implies, exploration of this kind is usually reserved for urban environments like abandoned or boarded up buildings, unused subway stations, old factories, and even sewers. If it’s off-limits to the public, it’s fair game for UrbEx.

Technically, anyone involved in UrbEx is breaking the law – it’s still trespassing. Plus, some locations are incredibly dangerous (crumbling walls/floors, exposed electrical wiring, asbestos, etc.), so the pastime doesn’t always attract people with the best intentions or the most brain cells. But there do exist organizations and individuals who think the same way I do, who took the pains to explore properly, and it’s thanks to their efforts that we now have Doors Open Toronto.

This year, 150 buildings opened their doors to the public during the weekend event, giving almost unlimited access for people to explore typically off-limits areas.

Many of the locations featured during Doors Open aren’t exactly abandoned, but they’re usually not open to the public either, so they’re attractive UrbExers willing to go that extra mile; places like the roof of City Hall’s east tower where the view is considerably better than you’d get from Nathan Phillips Square below:

The other side of the roof has no glass, only bars to prevent people from getting too adventurous, so the view is even better:

If you plan to visit next year be sure to bring a zoom lens if you have one. There are lots of fun details to capture around the city from above:

Visitors can also have a gander inside City Hall’s saucer where council sits. The floor is reserved for councillors, the blue amphitheater seating is for the public, and the upper section for the press where they’re provided with various connections so they can feed proceedings back to HQ:

I didn’t attend last year’s Doors Open so I’m no sure how unusual this is, but this year a number of places took the opportunity to open their doors to the public permanently. For example, City Hall podium, the flat area at the base of the towers and the saucer, has been closed for the last decade because, apparently, it was in need of repair. Not sure why it took 10 years to fix, or why I regularly saw City Hall staffers up there sipping coffee, but at least it’s once again permanently open to the public.

Along with shaded seating, the city put in a variety of gardens containing, what I must only assume, are plants fitting for a Toronto rooftop:

Okay, I admit, I spent an inordinate amount of time at City Hall, but it’s been closed off for so long that I kinda felt like I had to make up for lost time.

I tried to get into Commerce Court North to see its fabled ceiling mosaics but it was closed off to the public. Ahem – did they not get the memo? Makes me wonder how many other places were also closed, and why in the world they were included in the list of places to see.

However, other buildings that had been boarded up for years took the opportunity to really open their doors and welcome visitors. The John Street Roundhouse is one of them:

The place used to be a terminus point for the nearby railway. Engines would be serviced there and would be put on other tracks using the giant turntable in the middle of the aptly named Roundhouse:

It’s now a museum with a number of permanent outdoor exhibits (old engines, train cars, etc.), and they even went to the trouble of transplanting some Toronto train station houses of yesteryear to the spot.

Most of the stuff you can climb on and, in the summer, they run a miniature train through the grounds (above) and have other interactive activities for kids to play on. It doesn’t hurt that the appropriately-named Steam Whistle Brewery, replete with places to sit and enjoy a cold one, occupies one end of the Roundhouse. And although I’m less than enthused about Leon’s (furniture store) appropriation of the other half of the Roundhouse, I can understand why they’d move in there. Not sure how much business they’ll get from tourists – it is a tourist area, right beside the dome and the tower — I can’t imagine people lugging sofas back with them across the border. But I guess that’ll be Leon’s problem.

Doors Open or not, I’m sure Urban Exploration will continue. Some areas like the Lower Queen and Osgoode subway stations are not in good enough shape for the public to enter, and I’m certain that’ll always be the case at one location for another. But each year the list of accessible locations broadens, and with previously locked-off places like the famed Bay Street subway station now on regular location, I’m thinking it’s just a matter of time.

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The vigorous young go-getters preempted my typical introductory post; unusual, but great!

So, please allow me to go back in time a couple of days and introduce to you The Raisin Gang, a Toronto comedy troupe with connections to Ryerson University. The gang is comprised of Marissa Caldwell, Kye Fox, Mikey Kolberg, Daniel Kurland, Michael Peddle, Mary Kelly, Tom Conway, Dan Ramos and producer James Boyd.

I don’t remember exactly how I discovered The Gang (and they are 100% genuine gang), but it was laugh at first sight. When James Boyd returned my email saying he’d be interested in contributing to the blog, I was over the moon.

As with previous contributors, I don’t want to go into too much detail. The Gang have a Feature Contributor account here which means they can post, comment, etc., almost as if they own the place.

Understandably, producing video of this caliber takes a little more time so James suggested that The Gang post on a weekly basis. Or less. I know, I know, I want more too, but what can ya do?

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With the G-20 rolling into town, The Raisin Gang are well aware that everyone is looking to us to see what our opinions are on the current global economic crisis. Rather than come straight out and write an editorial rant skewing either left or right, instead we are producing a feature film on subject. It’s a movie with capitalism at it’s core; a parable that poses hard moral questions and should inform, in addition to entertaining. We are proud to premiere the trailer here on TCL. We hope you are all able to see the metaphor at play. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qL6hT0EI4Jc

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Love must be learned, and learned again and again; there is no end to it.
- Katherine Anne Porter

advertising campaign.
I’ve seen “EH” painted on these yellow boxes not just in front of the apartment building but in other places, too. Not sure what it means. Of course I know what “eh?” means, but I don’t know why this is painted on here.

Anyway, maple keys & comic books, hooray!

I ♥ trees.

Dinosaurs among us!
Kudos to Jason for noticing them & I like his photos of them best: seen here, here & here!

in the neighbourhood.
Back in 2004, when I first was given a digital camera which enabled me to suddenly take hundreds of photos w/o wasting rolls of film, I think I was more free-spirited with it and more likely to take pictures of everything without thinking, “Oh, this has so been done before.” I didn’t care – I just liked taking pictures! & I still do (as evidenced by the 1,000′s of photos in my photostream – and that’s with deleting at minimum double that amount) but yeah, it’s been awhile since I stopped to looked at things like this – and just take the picture.

love.

Balmy Beach & The Boardwalk.

self portraits on the rocks.

(01 June 2010) evening walk to the water.
green leafy trees, walking across big rocks in the lake, time together.

Jason aka ‘Tallman’

going home.

Even after all that rushing around, where we’ve ended up is the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.
And maybe knowing isn’t the point.
Where we’re standing right now, in the ruins in the dark, what we build could be anything.
- Chuck Palahniuk, ‘Choke’

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