Here’s my remix of Brad Turcotte‘s (a.k.a. Brad Sucks) “Feel Free! Plastic Surgery!” from his 2012 album “Guess Who’s a Mess“. Brad’s track is awesome but it doesn’t match my musical sensibilities (abilities?) so you’ll find that it’s a bit of a departure from the original.

This tune is the first of what I hope will become a collection or album of some kind. The idea for the Boreds of Canada name can be heard near the end of my version of the song and, besides Brad, the ditty was loosely inspired by Doxent Zsimond’s “acoustic” rendition (quotes and their contents mine). Rest assured that as soon as I discover other Canadians worthy of my deft acoustic touch I’ll be adding them to the Boreds repertoire.

FEEL FREE! TO DOWNLOAD THE MP3!
(It’s licensed under Creative Commons)
^{There’s also an instrumental version}

I usually scan the major daily headlines once a day or so, a habit I’ve had for years of which I’m sure there exist examples here on TCL.

Based on this, I was surprised to see one such daily running modern warfare scenarios between Canada and the U.S. “Haven’t seen this before,” I thought to myself at the time.

Upon further reflection, maybe I have.

It’s something I’d stumbled on a few years ago, a nearly decade-old comic series named “We Stand On Guard” which took much the same tone, albeit set ninety-nine years into the future (as of this year).

Spoiler alert: a good number of the rebellious Canadian “heroes” die and ostensibly take a large part of the water-deprived U.S. civilian population with them. Hooray!

Long story short, the artwork is great but the tale is bleak.

Cold, rainy March. Ugh. Forget that. Yesterday I decided to get some coding done instead.

I got so wrapped up in it I completely forgot to write a post. That’ll happen, I’m afraid. Flash is a demanding mistress. So that’s what I did yesterday. All day. That flippy TwitPic image thingamahooie you see above is my post for Monday. If you’re reading this after March 23rd, or you’re not on the front page, that probably doesn’t make much sense. (Maybe if you visited more often :( )

Good day for indoor stuff anyhow. And today’s much the same. But you know what? I’m absolutely certain that spring officially started today, regardless of what any calendar says: they’re shooting something again.

Hmm. The notice looks strikingly familiar. The three-ring holes, the bright colour. The “we’re taking over your street”.

To be honest, I honestly don’t believe I’ve seen anything they’ve shot here. Doesn’t sound like the kind of stuff I’d watch anyway. “Lost Girl”, lost me at “Lost”.

However, I did get to watch the crew work. Seems like a pretty sweet gig. They begin by standing around, drinking coffee, and shooting the shit:

This goes on for some time. Okay, it’s still early (no idea why I was up), so that’s necessary.

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Another movie shoot? I gotta be honest with you, I don’t get out of bed for anything less than a feature-length film these days. Made-for-TV is, frankly, below me. And Winona Ryder? Didn’t she steal something? *phft* No thanks.

I have my standards. It’s the finicky Canadian in me. Or maybe the obstinate Czech. If the Canadian government had higher standards, maybe they’d keep the likes of Winona Ryder out of Canada. They came out with a new guide for immigrants today, but I don’t see how it protects anyone from anything.

Here are the things I took away from this:

“Serving on a jury is a privilege”

I’m not sure that needs any comment.

“In the visual arts, Canada is historically perhaps best known for the Group of Seven…”

If that’s true then we really need to do something. Now!

“In our federal state, the federal government takes responsibility for…”

Whoa there! Who said anything about taking responsibility? The government takes no stand on this issue.

June 24 – Fête Nationale (Quebec)

Once again Quebecers get a perk that the rest of Canada doesn’t. On my tax money, no doubt!

“Saskatchewan, once known as the ‘breadbasket of the world’ and the ‘wheat province’…”

Yeah, Saskatchewan used to be something. What kind of message is that?

“’Whereas Canada is founded upon principles that recognize the supremacy of God and the rule of law.’ This phrase underlines the importance of religious traditions to Canadian society and the dignity and worth of the human person.”

Ooh, Zeus and the gang are not gonna be pleased about this one.

I think the problem with government publications is that they white-wash everything. The (we can safely assume) exorbitant budget probably had earmarked a proofreader for every individual sentence. Two for the God parts. What that guarantees is that, having used this booklet as preparation for citizenship, newcomers are not in any way prepared for the reality of Canadian life. This isn’t the land of milk and maple syrup they thought it was. Well, kind of. Good organic milk too. But it’s more expensive than they thought it was.

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I just had to visit the CN Tower eventually, and with the coupon graciously donated by a fellow stargazer at Thursday’s TIFF event, the decision to go tonight came easily.

I hadn’t been there since … jeez, I can’t even remember. I have vivid memories of going on the Tour of the Universe ride with my family so it’s probably close to twenty years now. God I’m getting old.

The tower obviously hasn’t changed much structurally, but they did add some bells and whistles to get people’s attention.

The most visible change is the one on the outside — the light show that the tower puts on at night. Surprisingly, this isn’t achieved through spotlights or involve any gerbils; it’s done using hundreds of small panels (about the width, height, and depth of a pad of legal paper), of ultra-bright LEDs.

The inside isn’t terribly different (from memory), but fun bits like the glass floor have been kept intact:

Three-hundred and fifty meters (eleven-hundred feet) straight down to a squishy, high-velocity death. Depending on wind conditions, you might even plummet through the open dome of the Rogers Centre (the blue building), taking out a couple of Jays players in the process. You’d be doing them a favour — and I don’t even follow baseball!

But if you ask me, the glass floor is a cheap gimmick compared to the view on the observation deck:

This is north-east. City Hall is nestled in behind the Sheraton Centre (building at far left with red neon); Yonge Dundas Square is the bright white piece (slightly up and to the right of the Sheraton Centre); the Royal York on Front Street is in everybody’s face just like the queen likes it (building at right with red neon); and I keep my clothes, food,  Oliver, and a toilet somewhere in behind the BMO building (center, tallest building).

You try and you try but you just can’t seem to escape those with too few brain cells and too many mouths. One mouth, in many cases, is too many, but in my case it was two — a Philippino couple — and they were incorrectly identifying every street they pointed at. The girl went on and on about how Calgary, the city of lights, was better than Toronto, and how neither compared to Paris.  My brain hemorrhaged a little.

Thank the darkened heavens above I had something to distract me:

This is the corner of King and Simcoe. The brightly lit building at the bottom is the north end of Roy Thomson Hall where TIFF opened on Thursday; the green rooftop is the as-yet incomplete Ritz-Carlton; and the building facing us at left is the Elephant & Castle pub for people with fat wallets.

The Philipinno girl mentioned how this section of Bathurst seemed a lot different from this height. No no, retorted the boyfriend, this was was Front; Bathurst was further south. Now I had a full-on bleeder.

The lake side of the tower is not so thrilling at night. The sky’s black, the water’s black, and if it doesn’t have a lamp post sticking out of it, it might as well not exist:

You know, for a city this size it’s shocking how few pervs hang around parks at night. That’s HTO Park and hardly a trench coat in sight. The “urban beach” concept here is a bit weird (especially in winter), but I suppose it beats sunbathing on concrete. And I’m sure all the neighbourhood cats love their giant litter box.

Unfortunately the tinted, smudged glass of the observation deck wasn’t ideal for all viewing. Do people really need to wipe their greasy hands all over the windows? Don’t you have a napkin or your girlfriend’s hair? Yeah, I’m talking to you, mister Bathurst-Street-is-in-the-lake.

I’ll have to visit again when they don’t allow special people into the tower. But even at night and with dopey conversation the place has a cool, aloof,  planning-a-bank-heist feel to it.

Of course, for that I’m going to have to enlist the help of George Clooney. I know he’s down there somewhere!

That’s it, it’s officially the last day of summer.

The sun’s hanging lower in the sky, the CNE is shuttering up for another year, and the kids are going back to school tomorrow. That’s the end of the summer, no matter what the calendar says.

As part of that last effort to get kids to forget their miseries, the Ex has the annual closing-weekend air show.

The announcers always go into excruciating technical detail like maybe we’re looking to pick up a couple of the aircraft after the show. Fires a hundred rounds a second, you say? I may be interested, keep talking.

Then, while waiting for the planes to fly into the show, the announcers go into all the crazy certifications and programs you’d have to go through before you’re even allowed to approach one of these things. For who’s benefit is that? The three-year-old standing next to me who should realistically start thinking about university now if he wants to be a pilot?

Then, the Top Gun music kicks in:

The show’s not entirely ironic. There were plenty of jet fighters on hand going down the real danger zone highway:

This happened to be the air show’s 60th anniversary, so the Blue Angels flew up from the US and with a salute:

This is the second time I’ve attended the show and I’ve really enjoyed it both times. The planes fly close enough to knock toupees off and the little prop ones do some really crazy stuff. Like climbing up into the sky, then cutting the engine, starting a crazy wobbly spin around every possible axis of rotation while plummeting back toward the water, and mere moments before impact, straightening out, re-starting the engine, and pulling up. Just insane.

I didn’t get to chill with the horses in the horse pavilion this year. That’s a regret. But the holiday weekend tradition I like to call “the flu” probably needed a bit of sunshine, so it was good to get out. And, all in all, it’s been a pretty happening summer. Maybe too happening; next year I’d like to see some of those things I missed this time around. I figure it’ll probably take four to five years to properly see most of the concurrent festivals, parades, and events that happen around the city every year. And with all the random news, changes, and just interesting stuff around … good frickin’ luck with that timeline!

I’m going to have to learn to pace myself.

The early bird gets the buck seventy-five deal :D

For cheapskates, spendthrifts, and watchapennies, today was the day to visit The Ex. Today was my day!

I think you may recall last Thursday when they were still setting up? Well, today was opening day:

There was just so much to do and see that a narrative of any kind would be foolhardy. I just kind of ricocheted back and forth along the CNE grounds until I was eventually spit out through the Prince’s Gates. Everything was there; the food, the rides … everything except the horses! *earnest disappointment* I had my lemonade all ready, and the horse pavilion certainly smelled like horses. But no horses. Equine-free. :(

Anyway, here’s some other fun stuff. I guess:

I guess that’s why it’s cheapy day today. When you pay the regular fifteen dollar cover, you get horses. For sixty more you get Bill Clinton. I guess that’s fair; horses gotta eat too. Bill though, he’s milking it. Oh don’t get me wrong, I’d be doing exactly the same if I were in his shoes. Just saying s’all.

Well, tomorrow will no doubt be similar to today. It will involve a children’s birthday party. The kids I like. We communicate on a common level. It’s the stamina that kills me. They’re as fresh on their fiftieth “helicopter ride” as they are on their first. I put that into quotes because I want you to hold whatever vision of that that pops up in your imagination. Okay, now make it just a bit too dangerous; throw the kid up just a bit too high; spin them upside down for just a bit too long; include a ceiling fan, and why not the kitchen sink?

Kids love it.

Mostly I hate having to explain to the parents. Again.

I mean well. And the kids are always ecstatic just before the tears. Bah. They’re old enough to start going to amusement parks anyway.

Someone had recently asked me what my favourite part of the CNE was.

That’s easy! It’s the danger!

To sum it up, it’s the danger of riding unsafe, potentially deadly rides. Nothing quite as exhilarating. That’s what The Ex has meant to me since I first went there with my folks. I was a little immigrant kid and lots of stuff impressed me back then. These days, that’s a bit more rare, but The Ex has managed to retain that feeling of charm and wonder to it. To me, it’s still still a carnival on a really big scale:

These grounds and all the buildings on them were built specifically for the Canadian National Exhibition, which only takes place once a year. The rest of the time, the grounds are used for the Indy and the various buildings are used for conventions, shows, and other large events. But The Exhibition, that’s this place’s raison d’être.

Like most big gatherings, The Ex started way back in the day when it was an agricultural fair. You came to exhibit your prized cows, corncob pipes, and pumpkins.  Someone would buy up your handsome heifers and you’d walk off with a wad of cash. The roads were mud at that time.

Eventually, agriculture gave way to modernity, and cool fifties’ style buildings were erected; kind of like the buildings in The Jetsons but more tame, more Canadian. And as seems to be the modern trend in downtown architecture these days, old buildings were extended, built onto, with the new buildings becoming a sort of cover for the old. The older building inside was pristinely restored and, being inside, better preserved. Usually, the outside structure involved a lot of glass.

But let’s say you come for other reasons:

The rides! And for me, it’s just more fun on the old ones. I mean, some of them have taken on mythic proportions. Could you imagine The Ex without the Polar Express?

Yup, this guy’s seen some mileage. And it’s a lot of fun without stopping your heart. There’s also the ride that almost always seems to claim a casualty, my absolute favourite, the Starship 4000:

I think it used to be called the Gyrotron, or something like that, but it’s still exactly the same ride. Inside the (fully constructed) saucer are stretchers on wheels sitting against the reclining walls. You rest up against them and as the ship starts to spin, the stretchers are pulled up to the centre with the you stuck to them. One year, I also remember riding a (more common) variation where people stuck to the inside of a drum while the floor dropped out from under them. Same idea but in the saucer you move away from each other as you accelerate. And the DJ sits in the middle blasting out tunes. Sometimes really good tunes.

Invariably, some kid tries to stand up, loses his balance, and goes flying for the corner of the saucer, bashing himself up in all sorts of funny ways. It’s never as serious as it should be, but they always close the ride for a while as a result. I know it’s meant to punish us. I must say, it works.

I just don’t think that kids these days are getting the thrills they need. Roller-coaster wise, I mean. Look at this thing:

Oh, look, a pretty ladybug out for a flight in a field of smiling flowers and swaying grass. Yes, every self-respecting teen is clambering to get onto it. And this is, arguably, the tallest and fastest coaster here. I suppose that tower-drop thing will have to do.

There’s more to The Ex anyway.

To me, the old livestock pavilions are where it’s at. Serene, shaded, and hushed. The animals are chillin’, you’re chillin’. Bit of straw for you, sip of lemonade for me. Ahhh. Pleasant. The weather for The Ex is usually hot and air-con doesn’t agree with me. I’m willing to co-exist with some manure if that’s what it takes.

Wee beasties not to your liking? Well, this year the feds pumped a bunch of cash into The Ex which has been used to get some big names to pay us a visit. Like Bill Clinton. So there’s that. And you know, there’s always a lot of classic Ex food:

Plus, there’s the food building for “real” food. Oh, and the air show at the end; not as boring as it sounds.

You know? There’s a lot to do there. I guess that’s why I like it too; you can be your normal ADD self, or you can be that old fogey watching the ponies, and it all just works as nature intended. The Ex has been around for so long that a good number of the streetcar lines converge there, so it’s easy to get to. And if you take care to note the location of washrooms when you first enter, you’re golden!

A friend tipped me off as to the whereabouts of a trash-free zone. After yesterday’s harrowing adventure I was grateful for a respite from the War.

I made my way to the Indy race track post-haste.

Maybe it was the lack of an umbrella, but this time when I was refused admittance to the track it seemed more gentle. More Canadian. The apologetic security guard actually went out of his way to suggest other less patrolled points of entry. I thanked him, fully intending to take his advice.

Unfortunately, the entire length of the CNE grounds was sealed with a tall, thin, awkward-to-climb fence. As a deterrent, it performed it’s duties admirably. I won’t bore you with the details of my Ninja-like maneuvers, but I managed to end up behind the main grandstand:

And after some deft footwork past a dozy security guard (unionized?), I waltzed onto the main track:

You’ll note a total absence of refuse. No candy wrappers, no cans, not even a butt.

The immaculate street was lined with stacked tires, probably the only thing that would even come close to trash. Even the ubiquitous caution tape that makes its way into every garbage heap was here neatly and purposefully attached to signage:

The drivers would probably just drive straight into the wall if that tape wasn’t there. Safety first!

As I went through the Princess Gates, I realized I had just returned to the real world; the world of War-ravaged streets where the 416/79 squadron tries to have it’s way with the innocent people of Toronto.

But unlike yesterday, today it was easy to be upbeat. Every time I looked up, it was as if the universe was trying to make me smile. Or in the case of glaring erections and innocent Torontonians and their cherries, a laugh:

Or maybe I’m just happy because I’m sleeping in tomorrow. Hard to say.