Picnics and Animals: Part 1
Posted on July 21st, 2011 – Be the first to comment
Well, folks, I’m sad to say that Toronto City Life is closing it’s doors for good.
The pressures of the workaday world have gotten to me and I have to shutter up the site.
I’d like to thank all those of you who read TCL regularly. Maybe we’ll do this again sometime.
…is what I would have written if I were getting ready to call it a day.
But I’m not.
In fact, between now and the Queen’s birthday on Monday (the old girl’s turning 190 years old!), I’ll be doing some renovations around here. Toronto City Life will be getting a face lift to make it more blog-like. It’ll remove the need to produce a cover image for every post which was proving to be a real bitch to do every day, and hopefully it’ll make things a little more inviting. No more grossly misleading front-page excerpts either!
This will also give me the opportunity to do some much-needed work on the Blogs section. The content on the blog itself shouldn’t change much but to help with the new format I’m going to try enforcing a six-paragraph-or-less rule. I had set this out for myself a while ago but clearly I’ve failed miserably in this up until now. I’ll keep trying.
In any event, this’ll make my life a little easier and, with any luck, make your experience here a little more cheerful. Suicide should no longer be the first thing on your mind after reading my stuff!
Enjoy Vickie’s b-day with ample fireworks and alcohol and I’ll see you again on Tuesday. Unless you live outside of the commonwealth. Who feels silly for wanting independence now, huh?

I used to be an angry young man. Now I’m a slightly less angry mid-thirties man.
In the past I would’ve treated a brutal assault on my personal space as an affront to all I held near and dear. These days, an inattentively rude bump by a passing stranger will start me reflecting on how such callous mental vacancy can be made funny. For me.
In my maturity I prefer my satisfaction a little softer, a bit milder, slightly more painfully embarrassing.
I was thinking that an investment in half a dozen banana cream pies and a small card table would do. These would be transported to an ample sidewalk somewhere in the city. A camera operator somewhere on the opposite side would help to make the golden moments last.
I would then hold one pie aloft, flush with oncoming faces and clearly visible to all but the most inattentive of walking puff pastries. (There’s still a need to work out how to best keep the pie intact here, but I have faith in the innovative power of sweet retribution.)
Then I would simply wait, unmoving, timing how long it takes before somebody plants their puss square in the middle of startling, delicious sobriety. Society benefits, I laugh my ass off, and everyone gets a tasty, instructive treat. Just think of the potential!