I was planning on going down to Caribana today but the heat and humidity were so oppressive, I thought better of it early on.

And that wasn’t the only thing that was oppressive:

Police, volunteers and private security guarded entrances to the Scotiabank Caribbean Carnival, patting people down and searching bags before they entered.

A network of barricades and fences kept the public back from the dancers with glitter-dusted skin and colourful headdresses as they made their way down Toronto’s Lakeshore Blvd.

“There’s so much fences that I can’t hardly see anything,” said Ann James, a nurse from Bloomfield, CT., who was trying to find her way to the end of the parade route.

Pat downs? I thought there weren’t going to be any pat downs! And I thought they were supposed to be reserved only for the saps in the bleachers … you know, all the lowlife criminal scrum like families and the elderly that attend the parade.

And now that I think about it, I’m certain that I mentioned that this was going to turn out to basically be security theatre intended to intimidate the general public.

And now, having mentioning these things (and incidents involving police acting as simply armed thugs, not enforcers of the law), I’m sad to report that they happened last night and today exactly as I predicted.

In fact, Sarah and I decided to go out for some chicken wings in the evening and I don’t remember seeing such a ridiculous number of cops on the streets since the G20. There were cops from all over; Peel Region, Waterloo, Halton. And they were parading around in gaggles of anywhere from four to ten at intervals of — and I’m not exaggerating in any way — every single block around the city core. At times there were more cops than pedestrians.

And I can’t tell you the number of parking enforcement cops that simply strolled by cars parked in front of fire hydrants and blocking intersections, right in front of our wing place, no more than a meter away from us and clearly visible through a huge glass pane window. To put it another way, the police weren’t enforcing the law, they were out to make sure we all saw their presence.

You may, at this point, be wondering if the word “despotism” was accurate in the title of this post. After all, it’s a pretty weighty word with lots of nasty connotations. Well, how about we let Encyclopedia Britannica explain (and while you watch, keep the banking bailouts, growing disparity between rich and poor, government censorship and gagging, and the near dictatorial pronouncements and oppressive, repressive laws and practices coming from both down south and here from Harper’s Canada, in the back of your mind):

Remember yesterday when I was talking about the seeming unwillingness of the government to curb violence? I’m sure I’m not the only one to notice this, but the only conclusions that people are drawing are that Harper and his cadre are doing this either through sheer incompetence or some level of meat-headed obstinance that simply won’t allow them to do anything else.

Except what if there’s a third option? One in which this is a cold, calculating move designed to get us all under the yoke of a tyrannical government. I mean, you only have to look as far back as Bills C-11, C-10, or C-38 (the Omnibus Crime Bill) to see exactly where they want to take Canada, and it’s a very ugly direction indeed; Orwellian, even — and that is not an exaggeration by any means.

And if you doubt that, today’s news offers an early glimpse into the plan made incarnate at this year’s Caribana (you know everyone still calls it that!) Here’s just a sample of what they deem is “normal” for private security (these aren’t even sworn police officers, and this is in a public place):

Security guards will be searching visitors’ bags for alcohol, drugs and weapons.

[Organizer Stephen] Weir said the people who usually purchase bleacher seats are seniors, families with young children and tourists. He doesn’t expect pat-downs will be part of the screening process.

Oh, he “doesn’t expect” pat downs will be used on children? That means that, yes, most certainly the troglodyte security goons will most definitely be grabbing at your kids’ genitals, a la US TSA gropings. And since these are mostly elderly and kids and families sitting in the bleachers, off course they need to be the subjects of a security crack-down. They are, after all, typical of the most despicable criminals out there. Makes sense, right?

People are unfairly linking us with an event in another part of the city that was really tragic, but we should be doing this.

Oh, it’s unfair. We don’t have a violent event, so of course we’ll be frisking people. And only the the law-abiding citizens who paid for their tickets; everyone else just walking around on the street won’t be subject to this. Makes sense, right?

If you’ve brought in food and non-alcoholic beverages, we don’t care. But if someone tries to bring in drugs or alcohol or projectiles and the worst-case scenario, a weapon, we have police standing by.

So what exactly is the point of security then? You know, it’s one thing to watch the crowd for sketchy people, but frisking people and rifling through their bags, especially when they’re families, elderly, and kids, has only one purpose, and it’s exactly the same purpose that the police at the G20 were put out in such force and ended up breaking the law in far larger numbers than even the demonstrators (who actually had larger numbers): fear and intimidation.

If you doubt this, read the official reports on the G20 (I’m sure I link to them from this blog somewhere). Does that help to answer why the police didn’t give a fuck when the vandals were wrecking Toronto? They weren’t there to serve and protect — it’s that simple.

They are not there to help you, they’re there to teach you to kow tow to authority, to demand that you allow flabby fucks to manhandle your kids, to scare you into obeying whatever commands they issue, even if they themselves have no more authority than the average citizen on the street. It’s important to repeat this last part, because in a public place like the Caribana parade, you have as many rights as any pudgy fuck with a pseudo-badge and a hard-on for fondling your wife’s breasts. And if you don’t like it, you can be sure that there will be hundreds of security cameras recording your every move, without your knowledge or permission, exactly as described in Orwell’s 1984.

Just today I saw two police cruisers in Allan Gardens and four bicycle cops for a total of eight uniforms busting an old man. One of the officers was doing a little jig while two others were laughing up a storm; the old guy just stood there looking down at the ground. Ridiculous? Of course not, it’s fear and intimidation; they’re doing their jobs!

You know, if the evidence fits then whatever the theory it supports must necessarily be true, and frankly all the crap that the mayor and the mainstream keep throwing at us makes no sense at all (see above).

Q.E.D.

Sadly, most people will just go along with our descent, much to the resounding joy of Harper and his underlings who see their hellish visions of a “modern” society coming to life, and these people will cower in fear and bow to “the authorities” (whoever they claim to be), whenever they’re told to.

This is just the very beginning.

Zach’s post about the G20 kinda freaked me out a bit. Not about the clampdown on the city or anything, I think that’ll be a riot. My main concern is the volume of simultaneous stuff that’ll be happening, and the lack of bodies to attend. Last year I got a request to cover Caribana so I spent the whole day wriggling through a million people in the blistering heat. I had to miss about three other things that day, three things within my highly limited scope of “what’s happening”.

This year the city’s shipping in Euro-crazies for the summer, doing a mayoral throw-down, plus all the other usual seasonal stuff that’s supposed to happen. It’s all a bit overwhelming.

One day at a time.

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Okay, I’ll admit it. I was wrong.

Those tall fences along the Caribana parade route were a good idea. Unfortunately (for the people in the parade), the fencing only ran down one side of the road, and only for half the distance. That left three-quarters of the roughly one kilometer route (a little over half a mile), open and easily accessible. Once people started climbing the barriers and walking along it, the procession slowed to a crawl.

Despite the crush of people, almost everyone was wearing a grin and either dancing or chowing down on the food that lined the route. It was pretty hard not to have a good time; my rump also shook rhythmically. The sound systems didn’t hurt either; to say that they mashed up the placed would be a bit of an understatement. I still have a collapsed lung!

Awesome.

Today is Simcoe Day and I’ve yet to set foot outside so I’ll let the photos take over from here on in. Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those Wordless Weekday things, just capping off the holiday with bit of a break.

Enjoy!

(And be patient; the post takes a while to load)

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Already 4 hours into the parade and no sign of stopping:

I highly recommend grabbing a coffee or a Red Stripe before you continue. The photos go on as long as the parade did.

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Do you remember yesterday with those street-borne communiqués around the city?

This time we have a website and a comfortable patch of grass. I would applaud this effort, I really would. But I actually started to read the web page:

“We want to re-examine public space and to create work which explores our relationship with the space we inhabit. We wish to de-center and disrupt the accepted n…”

*snore*

*snore*

Wuzzuh?!

*wipe drool*

I don’t know what that site meant but I’ve reprimanded my netbook for showing it to me. I’m sorely tempted to put my programming skills to use in creating a tedious content filter of some sort. When it would detect a web page that fell below the customizable tedium level, the browser would warn you with a gentle weeping sound lest you waste a moment of your valuable life. Also, a shudder if your hardware is equipped for it.

Meh. I’d rather be outside anyway. It’s hard to be bored, especially with Caribana just around the corner. And the rampant crime that goes with it:

That’ll go up to twenty bucks on the weekend. Bumbaclot!

Lamport Stadium is where the Caribana judging takes place, and if memory serves, they have about one-hundred million-billion floats and get-ups to evaluate. It’s a lot, whatever the precise number is.

When it comes to parade costumes, people go certifiably insane. They seal themselves up in darkened workshops for months on end, devoid of any human contact. There, they toil away, metamorphosing wire, fabric, and sequins into wings, antennae, and gaudy headdresses.

Finally, after many months and a third refinancing of the house, they emerge.

As a beautiful, gargantuan butterfly!

I’m sure it’s much more impressive than it looks. From what I remember of past parades, the costumes are enormous. That thing he’s pulling out of the truck is probably meant to be worn on the eyebrow. The rest of the costume usually arrives by helicopter.

I suppose I can understand why they’d want these creations protected behind fences this weekend, but I’m not sure if they’re legally allowed to call it Caribana unless everyone, including spectators, are jumping around. Seems like a fence would dampen that enthusiasm.

When I walked along Lakeshore Boulevard (the parade route) today, it felt a bit like I was in a penitentiary exercise yard. With the natural barrier of Lake Ontario on one side, and the gun-turret-like projections of the Direct Energy Centre on the other, winin’ and/or grinin’ just seems out of place.

Guess we’ll just have to see.