Unbelievable! I mean, who would’ve been able to guess that something like this could happen in a city like Toronto?!

There were probably even more laws broken but the numbers shown in the video are enough in and of themselves.

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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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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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“What gives?”, was my initial reaction, but without a jolt of caffeine and the other magical energy ingredients found in my canned morning concoction, I’m pretty much useless at that time of day, so that’s as far as that line of questioning went.

But once I got back to the flat and downed all 473 millilitres of liquid inspiration it suddenly dawned on me that something in the park was amiss, so I grabbed my camera and my curiosity and headed back.

The curly-haired dude in the park was actually a city bylaw officer who had been sent there in response to some accident that had happened the day previous between a dog walker and cyclist. I didn’t ask him to elaborate – seemed pretty self-evident.

If you’ve been reading TCL for a while, dear reader, you’ll know that I’m not too fond of aggressive cyclists, but none of the cyclists going through Allan Gardens this morning seemed particularly agitated. In fact, it was a warm and sunny morning and other than the fact that they were being stopped by some city employee and being told to walk their bikes through the park, none of the cyclists seemed particularly upset. Correction, most of them didn’t seem upset.

A few people did seem a little miffed at not being able to ride their bikes through a public park, and I readily admit that I shared in their miffiness. So I took curly-hair to task; “You’re not allowed to ride bicycles through public parks?”, I asked. “Through some parks and ravines, no, you can’t”, he replied. “Do you happen to know what bylaw this is? Is it posted?”, I followed up, genuinely taken aback.

Curly-hair replied by citing the city bylaw and pointing out that there was inadequate signage (to be rectified), at the north end of the park to this effect. He was nice enough about his interactions with me and other people and wasn’t handing out any citations, so I don’t want to give the impression of some brutal government clampdown on cyclists, at least not during this situation. However, the laws he was gently enforcing are still on the books and still technically punishable.

Now at this point I want to just pause for a moment and discuss municipal bylaw interpretation. I’m no lawyer; never claimed to be. But bylaws, and infractions thereupon, usually wouldn’t involve lawyers – a fine at most. Furthermore, bylaws are intended for common everyday citizens; if we can’t interpret municipal bylaws for ourselves then I’d like to suggest that there’s a serious flaw in the way that they’re written. In other words, a lay interpretation of these laws should be sufficient. Hence, if I’m reading them wrong then they need to be revised. Or I’m incredibly stupid.

The specific law being cited in this instance is part of Chapter 608 of the Municipal Code which states that “While in a park, no person shall ride or operate or be in possession of a bicycle where posted to prohibit bicycles”.

On the one hand it’s understandable that, if bikes are to be considered vehicles, that they shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with foot traffic. I mean, if they’re potentially that dangerous then yeah, ban those fuckers. But ban them everywhere – all footpaths, all parks, anywhere where they’re likely to come into as close contact with pedestrians as they might in Allan Gardens. And considering how wide the paths through that park are, that should mean pretty much everywhere.

But if arbitrary enforcement of laws based on knee-jerk reactions is the soup du jour then we have a potentially much more serious problems staring us in the face. I mean, the cycling bylaw is somewhat sensible, but this section of the Municipal Code has a few other things to say about what citizens can and can’t do in public parks. Here are some choice selections:

Section 608-3 C. “No person shall release any balloons filled with lighter-than-air gases in a park.”

This was probably intended to prevent people from launching weather balloons and parade floats from public parks. Unfortunately, it also covers your kid’s helium balloon.

Section 608-17 A. “Arrange or engage in an organized sport or activity, unless authorized by permit.”

Okay, no professional soccer matches; makes sense. Unfortunately it also covers you and a group of your friends tossing the Frisbee around. What constitutes an “organized sport or activity”? — “… a game or activity pre-planned by a group or organization whether or not formally constituted and whether or not the players or members wear uniforms.”

Section 608-9 B. “Unless authorized by permit, no person shall use, enter or gather in a park between the hours of 12:01 a.m. and 5:30 a.m.”

All those late tipsy nights stumbling home through Allan Gardens, all those Tai Chi practitioners in the park before dawn – CRIMINALS!

Section 608-25 A, B, C. “While in a park, no person shall fly a kite with a line that is metallic or contains wire; fly a kite within 25 metres of any tree, building, light pole or hydro or other utility pole; fly a kite in parking lots, roadways or pathways;”

Now I know this is supposed to keep people from getting fried but has anyone realistically tried to keep within these limits? It’s a bit like the proposed three-foot berth that cycling advocates want motorists to stick to when passing bicycles – is there even three feet of road available for this?

Section 608-32 “The maximum rate of speed for vehicles, motorized recreational vehicles, bicycles and personally powered devices in a park is 20 kilometres per hour.”

That’s 12 miles per hour if you’re imperially Inclined. On a bike that may be reasonable though I have yet to see a single bicycle with a speedometer installed. And in a car, well, let’s say I tried it, manual transmission, on the lowest gear possible, with my foot off the gas, the lowest engine RPMs pulling me along, and I was breaking the law at 25 clicks.

Sections 608-34.1 to 608-34.3 – The most extensive part and covering about four pages deals with regulations for commercial dog walkers, obviously a scourge on modern society.

Section 608-35 “No person as owner or person having the control of an animal shall bring into or permit the animal to enter a park if it may or does constitute a danger to other persons or wildlife, or is reasonably likely to frighten other persons.”

Get that butt-ugly dog of out of our parks!

Section 608-43 “The Commissioner is authorized to prune or cause to be pruned all trees located on private property, the branches of which extend over a park, including the pruning of branches that are hazardous or create an unsafe condition.”

I wasn’t able, in my five-minutes’-worth of research, to find out who the commissioner is, but clearly you’ll need them by your side to do your yard work.

Section 608-47 “While in a park, no person shall take or permit to be taken for remuneration any film, photograph, videotape or television broadcast unless permitted under the City’s film bylaw28 and authorized by permit from the Toronto Film and Television Office.”

Well fuck, I guess that photo at the top is illegal. Do you supposed that if I make more than a buck off advertising that they’ll take me to court?

—

Look, I know that a lot of these bylaws won’t be fully enforced, and many of them probably have good intentions behind them. But since witnessing the bylaw officer tongue-lashing cyclists in the park this morning I’m not fully convinced that the laws are entirely benign. At the very least they’re unenforceable and basically a waste of money to keep on the books; beyond that, they tend to verge on this side of absurdity. Or worse.

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Okay, I admit that as a divorcee, my views are a little skewed here. The attitude that this woman is carrying around is awfully similar to my ex’s, so be warned that there’s a pretty heavy bias here. And some lingering emotion. :) But enough time has now passed for that initial divorce pissed-offedness to have worn off. I’ve had plenty of calm time to consider / discuss motivations, history, my own faults and involvement, etc., and I’ve come to the conclusion that although I have plenty of improving to do, it doesn’t make Gabriella and my ex any less hosebags in their own way.

So here’s the story. Some time in 2007 Rogers Wireless (TV / Internet / mobile provider), decided to switch up its billing system to a one-per-household “global” system (as opposed to one per customer). At least I’m assuming that was it, I’m not a Rogers customer. In any event, they decided to start bundling bills for the same address even when the names weren’t the same. According to Gabriella this was done without her consent or knowledge.

At this point I can kinda see why she’d be suing Rogers. A major-brand car dealership, along with assistance from my ex, did something very similar to me — downright fraud, in fact — so I can sympathize. If it’s true that Rogers did this then they should be reprimanded, fined, and made to update this policy. I really don’t think there was any evil intent on the part of Rogers — it saves trees, saves the company some money, etc. — but they can’t just pull policies like that out of their ass and implement them without thinking about customers.

However, this is where my sympathy ends. You see, Gabriella was living with her husband and two kids at that time. Apparently she has a different last name, but under Canadian law if you cohabitate with someone for 12 months — a year — then the relationship is considered a common-law marriage. And she referred to him as her husband. Plus there are the kids. Basically, it was a marriage by all accounts.

But then Rogers started including her own phone call records in the “global” bill for the household received by her husband (they had separate accounts), and it wasn’t long before he figured out that she was calling someone a little more than can be easily accounted for. So he called back the number, got confirmation from the other side that, indeed, his wife was screwing around on him, and that was the end of that; he packed up the kids and left.

And this is where the story really starts to get me; Gabriella is now suing Rogers for $600,000 for the resulting divorce and the subsequent “suffering” she’s had to endure. Let me just clarify this: the brunt of the lawsuit isn’t about breach of privacy / contract, she’s suing them mostly for the breakup of her marriage. In a Toronto Star article she’s quoted as saying, “I lost everything. I want others to know what a big corporation has done. I trusted Rogers with my personal information. We had a contract — and agreement that put my life right in their hands.”

Is she trying to say that it was Rogers’ legal obligation is to keep her infidelity secret? See, here’s where she and my ex are on par — pretty much a total lack of  remorse (except at being caught), no admission of guilt (otherwise why this lawsuit?), finger pointing, deflection — basically a totally inability to take responsibility for her own actions, and furthermore trying to put the blame for her misdeeds on someone else. Fucking bitch.

Had it just been a lawsuit against Rogers for a breach, had she demonstrated that she understands that SHE IS RESPONSIBLE for her own situation (as in, it wouldn’t even be a part of the lawsuit), I might’ve painted a rosier picture of her. But as it stands, she’s nothing but a self-serving sociopathic cunt that deserves every last little bit of “suffering” she’s heaped on herself.

Ahh, Monday morning catharsis complete. :)

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That little pot rally that happened at Yonge-Dundas Square about a week ago was basically just practice for the main event, the Global Marijuana March and Freedom Festival. The point of the march, as far as I can fathom it, is to demonstrate the futility of existing pot prohibitions. It originally started as a grass roots (haha!) movement but now, well, the word “festival” is appropriate if you ask me. Even if you’re completely against anything marijuana, you must admit that arresting everyone simply wouldn’t be practical. Maybe even possible.

Last year it was estimated that some 20,000 people attended. This year, a lot. I’m given to understand that the Toronto thing is among the biggest — it is, after all, a global event. It’s gotten big enough to get all manner of unabashed corporate sponsorship:

This was my first time at the festival, and it didn’t come up short on my expectations. Here a bong, there a bong, everywhere a bong bong. The place was fully ablaze. You could smell it for blocks. Anyone holding a joint or a pipe was clearly green; there were rechargeable vapourizers, hookahs, and bongs with necks so intricate that by the time the smoke reaches the lungs it’s frigid. Yup, people hauled all sort of shit into the park for this lazy hazy Saturday afternoon. I swear some people even made group t-shirts:

There was one really unfortunate but entirely preventable incident involving a “man” (they don’t know his age, I’m gonna guess younger and stupider), falling out of a tree. Meh, there’s always an idiot. Other than that, I think everyone had a good time. Great place to meet smiling droopy-lidded people, and also to make some connections for the rest of the year.

I was surprised to see kids in the crowd, most of them accompanied by adults. I mean, there was lots of fun stuff to look at — “freedom” means lots of things to lots of people, you know? – but it was thick enough in that park to get high just standing around. Don’t think I’d bring my kids until I found them hiding their first stash from me. Ah, rites of passage.

Actually, that would probably not happen. I’d be very upfront with kids about drugs as early as possible. The truth too, no bullshit. Is a joint any worse than downing a couple of pints of beer or smoking a cigarette? Nah, but all three have consequences – especially for youth. Which is why I’m still all in favour of legalization (and taxation ;) ), but definitely not without controls.

The LCBO has facilities for verifying legal age, and pot doesn’t take up much shelf-space, so legal distribution channels shouldn’t be an issue. Enforcement – what happens when you get caught driving while high, for example — is also extremely important. I’d be in favour of zero tolerance, at least initially (or at least make it zero for everything then): you drive while high / drunk, no more driving for you. Apparently Australia is using roadside breathalysers to detect cannabis so the technology to make this possible exists. (And I’m sure it’ll get better over time.)

In other legal circumstances I think you could treat it like any controlled substance; is coming into work drunk cause to fire someone? Why should pot be any different?

I could be missing a lot in that equation, but so far I haven’t even heard anyone bring up points like these. You know, like, serious discussion on if, and based on that how, it could actually be accomplished. Keeping the public’s (electorates’) best interests at heart, of course.

But I’m getting a bit off-topic, aren’t I? Pot isn’t always the first thing that jumps to mind for everyone at the mention of the word “freedom”. Some choose to express their freedom in different ways.

These two cats were all over each other for a few minutes before scampering off into the depths of the festival. Their display was a bit too acrobatic to have been spontaneous animal sex, so I’m guessing performance art of some sort.

And of course, where there’s pot, there’s commies:

That guy in the brown leather jacket handed me their literature personally. He was wearing simple wire Lennon shades. The gloves on his hands were fingerless. His shoes were plain, nondescript. Red agitator straight out of a frickin’ movie.

Okay, you’d better start this video playing now, it’ll set the context for what’s coming up next.

Playing? Great…

So let’s not forget where commies come from: hippies. I swear there were times when I thought people would bust out spontaneously into song:

There were plenty of bare feet elsewhere, but for the most part modern hippies are sensible hippies. Probably because their mentors, musicians and poets, are themselves somewhat sensible.

Here is spoken word poet Storm delivering a heartfelt helping of inspiration to the crowd:

Note how sensibly she’s attired. Huh? Yeah.

But freakin’ great. I don’t mind admitting, dear reader, that at one point during her recitation I choked back a couple of tears. And it wasn’t any rhyming-couplet bullshit either. Storm’s bit consisted of one well-put reminder after another of why it’s great to be alive. Along with broad gestures and a nicely punctuated meter. Terrific stuff.

I wonder, you know, if the laws were changed, how a festival like this could grow. I mean, Caribana is insanity now, but I bet it’d be nothing compared to an annual pot festival held in a nice breezy spot like the Islands. You don’t have to bother the downtown folks out there and it’s already pretty much hippie-central in the summer anyway. Government needs an extra influx of cash? Now it’s a bi-annual event. And stoners are so easy to corral for when the love-in comes to an end, I don’t believe security would be a huge concern.

It could be the dawning of a new age of some sort.

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I guess you know the story by now, crazy project, crazy hours, and at the end they basically gave me the middle finger for even suggesting that I take some time off. I was “expected” to keep that up for another two months, minimum. After my probationary period, then, maybe, a few days off. What about the time off that the law allows for workers to rest so, you know, we don’t die and stuff? Those came off my vacation days. And again, wasn’t I lucky that they granted me such privileges – what an asshole I was for fucking them over like this. Overtime pay or lieu time?! HOW DARE I?!

When I think about it, I suppose thinking that they’d at least try to consider our plight was optimistic, but I’d hoped that by reminding them of their obligations as employers, under the law, they’d at least pacify me and send me on my way. But no, jerky to the very bitter end.

So I’m filing a complaint with the Ministry of Labour. It’s just not cool to treat people that way, legally or otherwise.

That’s me and a gentleman I met at the Human Rights complaints office. Turned out this wasn’t the office I wanted, they deal mostly with discrimination and everyone at my former employer is treated equally shabbily. I guess my complaint is common enough that the government now conducts most of its business online, so my trip was entirely unnecessary. But it was a nice day and I’d just quit the sweatshop (really, dictionary definition), so why the heck not?

The gentleman accompanying me had a compelling case – former manager in a well-known company, been there for a while, forced out by a higher-up who later turned out to be a bit of a scoundrel. The details certainly seemed to fit and sounded honest, and he claimed to have documented every step of the story. I don’t know if he’ll get the damages he’s asking for, but some of the lower sums he was tossing out (and that the lawyers had been suggesting), seem more likely. But I only know as much about the law as I need to, so that’s that analysis for you.

After our chat we strolled to nearby Nathan Phillips Square where the Paralympic torch relay was being held:

No idea what the point of this was supposed to be but I found it kind of funny that, apparently, you’re allowed to subdivide the flame – there was definitely more than one torch running the track:

I’m thinking that, should my funds start running low, maybe I’ll get into the Olympic flame racket. “No, honest, it came off the Olympic torch. You can even use it to start campfires – Olympic campfires! Think of how good those marshmallows’ll taste.”

In the meantime, though, I’m really averse to being an employee again. I mean, sometimes managers are just boobs, but sometimes they’re absolute tyrants. Either way, I have a really hard time buying what they’re selling. So, here I am on my first free Saturday since early February, jobless, nothing lined up and no feelers out (and no richer off for the experience, let me tell you!). I can honestly say I’ve never been in this position before. Bit scary. Also a bit exhilarating – I do pretty good work under pressure, implying I’ve got about month of layabout time before things start to get serious. But I tend to get antsy after about three days, so I don’t expect I’ll be pushing that envelope very much. Besides, my last fortune cookie said, “You will become an accomplished writer” (undoubtedly referring to TCL) – how can you argue with that?

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Dear i4i,

Awwwwww yeaaaah! You know what I’m talkin’ about!

Dang, I can’t believe the balls on you! A tiny little Toronto company — I walk by your office almost every day and I would never have noticed you if you weren’t in the news – and you took down Microsoft! And with XML on top of that! I mean, you and I know that’s basically like making a claim on the idea of the book. Not one specific book but the book format itself. The crazy Texan court actually granted you the ruling too! Man, that’s awesome.

Seriously, I can’t imagine what you could’ve told them was so special about your use of XML, but unless Microsoft actually stole your software, I’m having a lot of trouble understanding your claim. But I happen to think it’s great that you marched all that way south just to show them who’s boss. And now Microsoft is forced to call Texans ignorant hicks who wouldn’t know XML from their anus. Otherwise, your claim is valid. Heehaw!

Now, with a second ruling in your favour, you’ve shown everyone that it is possible. A little brain can hurt a lot. Bam! Your plot is so Machiavellian as to be evil. Love it. I also love that you’re using something that the public usually doesn’t come into direct contact with. (But it lurks darkly beneath almost every web page … even this one!) One newspaper describes it as programming “instructions”, another as a way of sticking data into a database. Mysterious XML. Hehe … who’s gonna know?

Luckily I know my XML from my anus. Flash developers must know XML intimately, on penalty of death. You and I both know that XML is a blank container, just an agreed-upon way of organizing data. Kind of like agreeing to put periods on the ends of a sentence. It’s the sentence that counts, unless you’re arguing that periods were your idea.

Brazen!

Oh, and may I just say bra-fucking-vo! Your December 2009 press release about support for Microsoft Word … priceless! I nearly shat myself when I saw it! You have a plugin for the software of the company you’ve just successfully sued for $290 mill. Haha! And I’m still not really sure what your company does. Doesn’t matter, you even managed to convince the courts to force Microsoft to stop selling Word in the US come the new year. Presumably, until Microsoft coughs up. Wow, grab the testes and twist; you guys are haaaaardcore.

I hope you use some of that money to throw one helluva New Year’s party, and pretty pretty please, send me an invite.

Your adoring fan,
Patrick

Attention: The Toronto Sun Editorial Staff

Facebook censorship? My ass. Anissa Holmes’ ass too, apparently. Who gives a flying buttock? You keep printing these stories — front page, for God’s sake! – like it’s news. Look, why don’t you just turn the Sun into wholly nude “newspaper”? I have absolutely nothing against nude women, really don’t. Seems you do, because you seem to be repressing your natural tendencies. Just do it already!

Do you know I actually counted the double-spaced, large-print “articles” (mostly reworded press releases), and compared them against the amount of advertising on a single page? I believe article average was around 20%, ads 80%. And yes, to answer your question, I was bored. So what?

It’s really hard to take the Sun seriously. Your covers are the very definition of tabloid. Again, my problem isn’t that you’re leaning that way, it’s that you’re not leaning that way far enough. One top of the nudity, toss in a few UFO sightings, MJ reincarnations, and a “Your Conspiracies” section, and I think you’d finally hit your stride.

I don’t wish you ill at all, I just feel like you’re suffering from an identity crisis and sometimes you have to be a bit brutal about that kind of thing, you know? Tough hide kinda business. Red cheeks kinda business.

Give Anissa that center spread and, suddenly, some bullshit Facebook story just won’t seem like worthy or even necessary news anymore. You have to do it … for integrity.

I believe in you,
Patrick

Dear Santa,

Am I too old for this? Ah, who cares, I’m sure you’re a cool guy. I’m not doing the sitting on the knee thing – sorry, not my bag, dig? But as for my wishes, well, I only have one, and I can easily divulge it. It’s about this blog thing. I wish, hope mostly, that TCL will one day blossom into a money-producing flower of some sort. Just enough to live on, I’m not greedy. Well, I guess some extra would be nice. But, you know, I owe a lot of people a lot of money, and I think I’d technically be on skid row if I earned any less than I do now. And, unfortunately, I earn a handsome amount. AdSense just won’t cut into that. Barely pays for my freshly imported Brazilian pine nuts. At about $40 per half a kilo (about a pound), I’d be crazy not to feed it to the pigeons. They love it. And me. :)

Anyhow, as you can see, I’m kind to animals and I rarely hit people. Except for that guy I ran into … correction, who ran into me. I mean, yes, I was already irked walking home … whole lotta shovin’ goin’ on. And not in an Elvisy way. I was walking through this narrow corridor of people who just decided to huddle together for warmth, I guess, and blocked almost the entire sidewalk. As I was leaving the passageway of shivering asses, this little guy came from directly around the corner and, without even a pause – oblivious to his surroundings — busted right into me. Except I was going at a good clip too, he came at me at a right angle and, I’m sad to say, bounced off of me. Sad now. At the time I said something to the effect of, “Oh for fuck’s sakes…”, and kept moving.

I had dazed the little guy pretty well. When I say little guy, I mean he was like, a fully grown man, just very little. A little guy. And I bowled him over. I think he even buried his nose in my ribs. He was walking upright, that’s just where his nose was. I thought I felt a crunch as we connected. Basically, I thumped him pretty good … not on purpose, mind you, and it was his fault. But I kinda took glee in it. Like, yeah, there you go, that’s what you get for not paying attention. But later I felt bad, it was just an accident and, well, yeah, he deserved a whack on the head, but probably not a full-on Patrick.

So I feel remorse. You see, so I’m essentially a good guy. And there you go, is that the justification you need? If it’s a promise you’re looking for, I can certainly promise not to punch anyone in the face for at least two or three weeks. Let’s say two. And I’ll lay off the expletives and instead use Mandarin ones like gan ni-a! Actually sounds kinda cute, don’t you think? And good and offensive to most Chinese people (I vaguely recall trying it at Chungking Mansions, generally to effect). People in China don’t do Christmas so I figured you’d like that. I know a few other zingers too, even the proper inflections.

So I’m valuable to you, Santa. Very valuable. And I need you to pull some strings for me, get TCL into full-time mode. I’m open to muddy money and I insist on looking the other way. Only one condition: final editorial decision stays with me! That’s a non-negotiable.

Looking forward to working with you,
Patrick

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Anyhow, I believe I’m in one of those moods today. It was one of those lurching days in which clarity decides to rear its ugly head – a light was cast on a vexing situation that’s been festering on my mind for a few months and – to be blunt – both shocked and pissed me right off. I probably shouldn’t go into detail because I have a feeling I’ll be wielding the business end of legal prosecution pretty soon; I can think of no other word than fraud, or something very close to it. Certainly some very odd dealings that I just can’t explain. You know? Stuff just doesn’t add up, like 1 and 1 is supposed to equal FF in hexadecimal. Yeah, that’s not even the same numbering system.

There are lots of fiddly little details that, hopefully, I’ll be able to share once it’s all done with. I think they’d make good reading if you have a few minutes on the shitter (get a netbook—best investment ever ;)). However, droning on about some vague misdoing is boring my tits off and I know the details, so let’s let’er rest a while there.

Besides, some things don’t need to be discussed because they kinda stare you in the face, you know?

Take the story about a young mother who was murdered in her car while tending to her two-year-old daughter. Yep, no way to put a frilly ribbon on that story; shot right in front of her little girl. The story is tragic no matter how you spin it; that kid’s just been handed a life sentence. Who’d argue with that?

But just beneath the surface there are things that aren’t quite right.

To begin with, Detective Sergeant Pauline Gray is quoted as saying, “I think the careful thing is not to look for a reason, because as far as I’m concerned, there is no reason.”

Did I read that right? The careful thing is not to investigate the motive because there isn’t one? Okay, well, for an officer to be making extrajudicial pronouncements at a press conference probably isn’t a great idea, but it also shows that the good Detective has been compromised. Clearly am emotional basket case. Hey, can’t blame her, but don’t we owe the mother and kid a proper, thorough, and unbiased investigation? The careful thing to do is to look for a reason, because as far as I’m concerned, there’s always a reason. I believe that’s the difference between first and second-degree murder — planning requires a purpose, or a reason, as they call it out west.

I also subscribe to Occam’s Razor which bluntly states that the simplest and most direct explanation is usually the correct one. Don’t over-complicate shit, I believe, is the original expression. If she had a jilted ex-husband, my odds are on him. But there’s another possibility; please allow me to connect a few dots…

She’s from Columbia where her parents still live. Upon moving to Toronto, she started a successful container shipping company. Initially she was sending a container or two a year (was that enough to live on?), but recently business had picked up to the sum of one or two per month. To and from South American countries. Do we need the white connecting lines here?

Okay, that’s just rampant coke-fuelled speculation, but any investigator worth their salt should be knee-deep in blow by now. To dismiss some possibilities because they may harm the reputation of the deceased person does them a disservice. And the little girl too. Even if some dark details are revealed, who knows what the circumstances were around those details?

If you’re a keener and read the story, you’ll note that I took most of the drug runner scenario from the Star piece. Almost verbatim, except that I took out a bunch of expletives. I still don’t know why The Star swears so much, it’s really off-putting. But the facts remain about the same. Possibly manufactured for my benefit. However, I still stand by my argument that a thorough and unbiased lookseeinto is the way to go.

It’s the same with the McCormack case. That’s the former police chief’s son (and also a cop), accused of pulling money from club and bar owners in exchange for favours. Hehe, no, not sexual ones. Although, you know, I shouldn’t judge … who knows? Definitely the accusation of money exchanging hands for services of some sort (no, no jokes about hand services, that’d be crude and never proven in a court of law). Impropriety on the one side, corruption on the other, but either way it was looking meaty.

I guess we’ll never know for sure how meaty because the case was thrown out of court for taking too long. If proceedings extend for five years, I believe, the court is obliged to remove them from before its just gaze. “And don’t let the door hit you on the way outtay”, in Latin.

Wow, my head’s really gone over to the lawyer side of the force. Maybe I’ve been spending my time in that headspace for too long and now I just zero in on any little litigious thing I see. I probably just need a good sleep – I mean, who knows, maybe I’ll dream up an out of court settlement. Or maybe cast a dark habeas corpus upon them from my slumber — the sleeping subconscious mind has mysterious powers, possibly even occult. I guess that path will be determined by my mood. Prince or Princess Bride?

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I will do my duty, sir! Covers at regulation height!

Unfortunately, that never happens. The closest I came was pulling the somewhat ineffectual hood of my anorak over my head as it started to rain. As the excessive flap of the coat blocked most of my vision (either that or walk like a fully extended parachute in the wind), I found myself travelling in a very trance-like state. I could only see maybe one and a half meters in front of me, so I had to assume a certain attitude of resolution. Yes, a knife-wielding maniac may come screaming from an alley, and at that visual distance, I’m fairly certain I’d be dead. I had to resolve to be okay with that.

So I started to think about that vocation thing again. What, you didn’t think I came up with that just to fill up a post, did you? This is real angst! Jeez!

Okay, angsty; something I’d like to get resolved. So I must’ve had that in my sensory deprivation cloak with me on my walk home because suddenly I snapped out of my trance — something told me to look up, and what I saw looked awfully familiar:

Of course! I’ll become a thief!

No, not a common thief; I don’t want to abscond with bananas and gum; an international diamond thief  (I guess I could steal other expensive stuff too). A sophisticated gentleman cat burglar in the style of Cary Grant in “To Catch a Thief”, or  George Clooney in “Ocean’s Eleven”. Well, George Clooney in a few roles, but that one was especially well-suited. Flashy and always well-rested. *two thumbs up*

Oh, you’re probably wondering how I went from a Chinatown supermarket to becoming a thief. Sorry, let me take you back a little earlier in the day.

Over lunch, I read a Star story about a certain Mister David Chen, owner and proprietor of one ultra-ironic Lucky Moose Food Mart (pictured above; “lucky” moose on second floor). He’s being brought up on charges of kidnapping and forcible confinement because he tried to foil another robbery at his store.

The undisputed story goes that the thief was well-known and had stolen stuff from there (and nearby stores), numerous times. So, I guess Mister Chen wasn’t going to stand for it any more and when the thief dropped in to borrow a few other items, Mr. Chen and two buddies chased him down in a van, tossed him in the back, tied him up, and beat the snot out of him. Police found him tied up in some dank corner of Chinatown.

Well, yeah, that kind of is kidnapping. But somewhat understandable, I think. Mister Chen claims (and others corroborate this), that he had requested some sort of assistance from the police, but none was given. The thief was allowed to continue running around stealing stuff even though with his record, he probably shouldn’t have been out of a cell. Or at least some sort of supervised and controlled environment.

Another thing that I think Mister Chen is allowed to have a chafed butt over is the fact that his store is so close to 52 Division. Five minutes by foot, is my estimation.

But I’m not sure if I’d resort to grabbing someone off a street and mashing them up for stealing a few plants. Plus, it’s just so unimaginative. So generally speaking, I can see where the kidnapping and forcible confinement charges come from.

But what hit me over the head in today’s article was the fact the court made a bargain with the thief to testify against the store owner!

Yes – freakin’ – way.

The little scumbag got 30 days instead of 90 (and is apparently right back up to his old tricks), and in a complete reversal of roles, the store owner is now facing some serious charges. He could be put away with the thief’s help!

My idea doesn’t seem so crazy now, does it? As a thief, I could help put away the bad guys I steal from by testifying against them. I’ll hire interns for the beatings. And if I don’t get caught, I get to keep the loot!

Flawless.

I’m even thinking of leaving behind personalized, scented business cards of some sort, bearing a message of regret for their loss, but at least they lost it to the best; or something to that effect.

I’m gonna need a little work. I don’t even know how to properly pick a lock yet! I guess it’s hardcore training from here on in.

But don’t worry, dear reader. I’m keeping TCL in the back pocket. Hey, who knows, maybe it’ll be my daytime cover story. That’d be pretty cool 8-) George Clooney cool.

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Oh man, I don’t envy you. Now that I’ve had ample opportunity to compare the wheel to the foot, walking is just slightly slower than the car. If you include the driving around the block a few times to find a spot, then shimmying into an unparallel park, and finally gasping in disgust as the ticket machine spits out 2:30 (that’s two minutes and thirty seconds) for your two bucks, walking is actually considerably faster. And the machine makes way more than me per hour.

If you drive stick on an uncooperative clutch like I used to, you start to deform disproportionally as your right arm and left leg gain muscle, while your opposing limbs just get pastier and pudgier — except for the sunburnt left forearm. If the window’s down, that arm’s going on there.

Besides that, the amount of signage on every pole is simply irresponsible. Are we actually supposed to pay attention to all of that while driving?

If you’re not familiar with the snow route sign, you may simply think it means no parking there because the lane will be made into a ski trail. Or something equally enjoyable that employs snow. And right next to it is a sign telling you when it’s okay to park there. And that’s a busy sign. First it lists the two times that you can park there from Monday to Friday. Then the times during Saturday and Sunday. Finally, on the bottom are the arrows that indicate the directions in which this rule applies. And the times and directions thing is also happening on the no stopping sign. Then there’s the small idling limit sign which, once again may be unfamiliar  since it’s a municipal bylaw.

Squinty eyes, at the wheel with bikers squeezing by on the right, pedestrians running out in front, and the streetcar just getting by on the left. And the car behind you honking. That’s always my favourite :) And there are signs you have to pay attention to there? Yup. And they usually come in clusters like this on every pole and the little arrows and, depending on the block, the times change.

Sometimes it’s just not fair:

Did you see the hidden sign? Beneath the no parking one. That’s probably the one with the five-thousand dollar fine. And what about the arrows on that no stopping one? Does that mean that you must drive through the intersection on any light during rush-hour? Just to disambiguate, there’s a no standing one too.

That’s why I always look in all directions, twice, before crossing the street. If you get some driver trying to obey all the signage, they’re liable to kill someone. And what the hell are vendors doing hocking their stuff out in the middle of the street?

It might seem like nitpicking, but since they went to the bother of producing I don’t know how many such arrow-laden signs and sticking them to everything, you’d think they’d try to imply less idiocy on the part of the populace. Doesn’t matter which way you turn that thing, it always tells you that you shouldn’t try to sell hot dogs from the middle of the street. City Hall probably doesn’t want to clean up the mess from the collision with the law-abiding car.

Do we need all that signage? I believe it’s perfectly reasonable for a reflective, observant individual to bend the laws a little. I’m sure we’ve all crossed on a red when there was no traffic. Or mowed down a few pedestrian during a pub crawl. Hey, it’s Friday!

It’s not that I intend to become some Johnny Scofflaw, I just think that someone should re-think all of the stuff affixed to utility poles. Common street laws apply almost everywhere; you don’t need to tell people not to park in the middle of an intersection. That kinda stuff.

Simplify.

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The guy across from me on the streetcar this morning had the face, bristle, and thick-rimmed glasses of Elvis Costello, the fashion sense of Paul Giamatti, and the hair of Sideshow Bob. I walked through the entrance to my building with the spitting image of a female manservant Hecubus. We both passed the building’s property manager who bears more than passing resemblance to Dr. Evil.

Shouldn’t people like this be on camera? Some people don’t think so.

In an article today, The Star published a publicity piece for a group (led by Ryan Ringer) calling themselves Methinks Presents, which if you ask me, is a total misnomer.

What they intend to do is to swarm the Google Street View car that has recently been making the rounds in Toronto in order to bring attention to the “creepy nature” of Google’s project. As part of the event, they’ll probably be taking pictures in a public location.  In the process, they’ll probably be capturing the numerous random faces of people who just happen to be passing by and won’t have any say in  (or even knowledge of), being photographed. Not to mention the number of random webcams, camera phones,  and “security” and traffic cameras that cling to every available nook and cranny downtown. It’s a safe bet that everything will find its way onto Flickr, YouTube, blogs, etc.

To argue that Google is invading our privacy from the inside of a car, from a public road, means that it shouldn’t be legal for anyone to take photographs from anywhere, of anything, for any reason. Or is it just Google because they’re “evil”? Maybe Methink’s protest is intended to be somehow artistically ironic? Somehow, methinks not.

My shitter being equated to the middle of my street throws the notion of “reasonable expectation of privacy” out the window. Everything would be considered private (if the street would, what wouldn’t be?). Recorded images of any kind would have to be illegal, probably forcing the government to ban the use of cameras. While at it, why not extend the same courtesy to audio recordings? That would really suck for quite a few people.

I suppose one alternative would be to ask permission whenever you took a picture; permission of anyone in the shot (or blur them out); permission from the owners of any properties in the frame (or blur them out); permission from owners whose pets appear in photographs (or blur them out). God help you if an identifiable airplane or bus happens to pass into your shot.

Sounds silly, doesn’t it?

Not only does Methink’s plan sound horribly illegal (“hey, let’s go swarm a car because we don’t like what it’s doing”), but they’re pushing an idea that is contrary to the public good. Mine especially. I bought a brand-spanking new camera not too long ago and I don’t want to be  ambushed by Methink’s grouptards for taking a picture of the Eaton Centre.

I don’t think most people would be bothered  if they saw themselves walking down the street in a Street View scene, unless maybe they were caught doing something questionable. In that case, may I suggest maybe not doing that in public?

Oh, and when the Google car does approach, I think there’s a much better way to deal with one’s public image. Do a quick straighten-up, put on a giant shit-eatin’ grin, and give a crazy big thumbs-up as the car passes. The virtual tourist will find Toronto to have very inetersting people. Isn’t that much more productive?