I ran across a thinly veiled op-ed in this Sunday’s Star about the changes to Toronto police vehicles, specifically that they’re being rebranded to an indistinct grey and black, ostensibly in the name of efficacy and safety.

There were a couple of things in the article that stood out like dark grey vehicles against a grey cityscape on a rainy day.

First there was a comment about police uniform changes by former Toronto police chief, OPP commissioner, and aspiring poli-tyrant Julian Fantino:

“We got that with the black shirts, this flurry of rhetoric about stormtroopers and back to the Nazi era, and on and on. In a way it was comical if not ridiculous”

It’s a far stretch to say that nazi uniforms and those of Toronto/Canadian cops are the same but drawing comparisons between their obvious similarities is neither comical, ridiculous, or unwarranted.

Perhaps these similarities are simply the result of any sufficiently demagogic and militaristic mindset. Still, if projecting a certain outward appearance isn’t so important, as Fantino insists, why not allow cops to run around in t-shirts and sweat pants?

There was another comment that Fantino made that really put the whole thing into perspective. When asked about switching OPP cruisers to their current black and white colour scheme Fantino replied:

… what inspired me was the good men and women of the OPP who wanted them back.”

The article clarifies that “He listened to what they — not the experts — said on what made them more visible and safer.”

Because that’s policing is all about: appeasing cops and keeping them safe.

This around the same time that it was revealed that the Montreal police conspired with a judge to secretly spy on a journalist to discover who his sources were. It wasn’t that the writer was suspected of breaking any laws, as if that’d be a tough thing to do, it was that he’d revealed information about two cops who were accused of fabricating evidence, lying, obstructing justice, and soliciting sexual services.

There were no charges laid. No trial was compromised. Turns out that the public just needed to be protected from discovering such damning news about their beloved police.

The Star is reporting today that a newly found budget surplus, nearly double previous estimates, will be used to pay for streetcars purchased by Miller’s administration. While the surplus is bigger than expected (even though pretty much everyone but the Ford administration knew it), it’s worthwhile to note how the Fordites are continuing their divisive propaganda by trying to suggest the decisions behind the budget are Council’s fault:

“Council directed that the surplus be directed to capital purchases and specifically the new TTC streetcar order,” Milczyn said.

Except, guess what?

FORD WANTS TO USE SURPLUS TO PAY FOR STREETCARS…while some councillors are suggesting the surplus cash be used to stop other budget cuts, Ford echoed Budget Chief Mike Del Grande’s stance that the surplus should be put into the city’s cash-strapped capital budget…Mark Towhey, Ford’s director of policy, stressed Thursday that the city has to put a portion of the 2011 budget surplus towards the capital budget, particularly the TTC’s fleet of new streetcars.

So Fordo and his cadre get the surplus wrong, and then they go and point fingers at Council when in reality they themselves directly spearheaded the push for spending the money this way. At this rate, they’ll probably be blaming the insistence on subways on Miller too (because they were Ford’s priorities since day one, of course).

Okay, so now it’s going to look like I’m obsessed with movie stars or something. But that’s not it at all. I just happen to pass the TIFF bigwig red carpet every day, and the bigwigs just happen to be there. In essence, they’re making themselves available for me. I’ll drop in for half an hour but, I mean, I’ve got other things to do. If they can move it along and show some appreciation for my sacrifice, I’ll humour them. I’m not a jerk.

They’re usually pretty courteous and … oh look! It’s Keanu Reeves!

Thanks, Keanu. You’re looking … well.

But Rebecca Miller, she’s too transfixed by someone’s scruffy locks to say hi to me:

… Continue Reading

I remember last year’s TIFF taking up a lot more real estate. Probably because they had decided to sell tickets just off Yonge Dundas Square, and all the latte-bearing movie-goers hogged up the sidewalk for a week. This year, most of the red carpet entrances are happening at Metro Hall / Roy Thomson Hall. Guess I’m just a bumpkin, but I’ve never seen an illumination balloon before:

So now that I’ve been a-gawkin’ for the first time I can say that there’s an awful lot of standing around and scratching your butt. The stars come in piece-meal, irregularly spaced, and they don’t stick around long. Out of of the hour or so that I stood there, maybe five or six TIFF SUVs rolled bearing someone or other. A Toyota Camry also made an appearance; no idea who that was. But still, you had to stay on your toes because … oh look! It’s Jennifer Connelly!

Then, whoosh! Inside. Didn’t even autograph my butt cheeks; isn’t that kinda rude? I used to have a crush on you, Jennifer! *sigh*

And then more waiting. I quickly lost my illusion that the event was being televised live or something because even the hosts did a lot of standing around:

I could see how there can be a lot of alcohol involved in the live broadcast industry. Later, when I saw the edited broadcast at YDS, some of the responses that the interviewers got made me wince. Calling Jennifer “smokin’ hot” in front of her husband seemed inappropriate. And a lot of the questions really missed anything substantial, like what she thought of her dresses in Creation, the Charles Darwin biopic she was cracking the seal on. Paul Bettany was asked about his inspiration, his thoughts on Origin of the Species, etc. The bunch watching the rebroadcast at YDS were less enthusiastic than even Jennifer seemed to be:

So the delayed feed isn’t a crowd pleaser. It is better to be there live. But YDS did fill up once the band came on:

That’s DJ Champion on the decks. You can hear for yourself what it sounded like: http://www.djchampion.net/

I’m a big fan of deep house, and I don’t snub my nose at other styles of house, but this just didn’t catch me. Sounds like it’s trying to be all things to all people, so it comes across as a bit of a dud. To me, anyway.

Aw, who cares. Plenty of options out there; the Dixie Chicks are coming!

Haha! Nah, just kidding. My inner snob is alive and well there. I’m sure there’ll be more stuff; hope doesn’t die with a twang. And the butt cheeks may yet have a signature on them.

The Toronto International Film Festival is stupid. I mean, good for them that they have so many movies but if someone actually wanted to watch them all, it would be physically impossible. Even if you managed to travel backward in time a couple of times. And then, just to really make it impossible, they throw in a bunch of well-known people who fart around town attracting onlookers and photographers.

Anyhow, there it is. Guess I’ll just have to deal with it. Medication, maybe.

I don’t think I could ever tell you more about the festival than the actual website, but one of the things that does seem to be lacking is a useful celebrity list. The Toronto Star has a very complete list but much of the time I couldn’t put name to face.  I’m usually not great with names, more of a faces guy. Do you suffer from the same affliction? You may find this somewhat useful:

http://www.torontocitylife.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/TIFF-celeb-list.jpg

That took more than a few pee breaks, but — it’s complete! Or at least as complete as it’ll get. Some of the names were either a bit too obscure or their web presence wasn’t very strong. By that I mean that if I had to click more than once to find out who it was, it just wasn’t worth it. I don’t get paid by the click, you know!

I figured it could be used as an “Oh shit, is that who I think it is?” list.

Yep. Now you know it’s someone famous. You just don’t know who.

And who cares?! Take a picture, take one more … nnnnnn Run! Push everyone aside – grandma can go straight to hell — leap over hoods of cars – here’s my indicator, buddy!! — figure it all out later.

Get p-a-i-d!

Slick.

Well, maybe not so much for me. I know that the moment I’d go to run, I’d slip on something and come straight down on my chin and camera and all. One big flubby smash, digitally stored in a multitude of devices and angles, many of which would be capable of playing it all out in slo-mo. And the blood. Lots of it. People would panic, some guy in front of me would faint. I’d be a mess, bawling from the awfulness of it all. The celebrity now long gone having been whisked into a waiting car even as I was still coming down. Probably the scream. And the photographers — pissed. I’d just cost them the day’s wage.

So, yeah, I hope to be there.

Last Friday morning, a familiar voice from Chew Chew’s, my weekly greasy spoon, broke the morning slog; I had won!

Yes!

Every week I left my name and number on the back of that blasted breakfast receipt along with a healthy tip (*wink wink*) and now, finally, it had been drawn. “Yes, R.! I’ll be by to pick up the certificate on Saturday! Wonderful! Thanks so much!” (R.’s the tall, thin guy with a stache, glasses, and porn-star do. He conducts himself like the place is his – which it may be. In a good way, I mean.)

Unfortunately, Saturday was the day of the big power outage in the neighbourhood. You may have read the blow-by-blow in the new Twitter feed thingy I added at the right (what do you think of the name “Tweetness”?) I didn’t think anything nearby would have power so I decided to postpone until the following day.

On Sunday I strolled into Chew Chew’s like a man about to win something. I was thinking a free breakfast, maybe two? It’s a mom and pop joint so I figured it wouldn’t be anything big. But still, nice to win :)

R. handed it to me the moment I walked in. A couple of conditions were stapled to the front:

Okay, that’s fair. The weekends are probably the busiest times, and while they provide free food, they wouldn’t want to get stiffed on the taxes. And a tip is nice.

The part beneath the note simply has Chew Chew’s address and a notice that this ticket expired on August 31, 2008. Again, mom and pop joint; I’m sure it’ll be kosher when it comes to redemption time.

No mention of the actual prize though. I flipped it over:

Wow. I’d just won a coupon. With newly revealed, pre-existing staple holes. A re-used coupon.

My typical bill is around twelve dollars so I’d be saving a buck twenty. I tip considerably more than this. And I can’t imagine the next time I’ll be there on a weekday. *sigh*

I don’t think I’ve ever kept my feelings about the Shwa (an east Toronto burb), a secret. But having gone through this emotional roller-coaster, I totally empathize with them when they got the news today. KISS (yes, the rock band), was supposed to play there after the Shwabians won an online contest involving lots of votes. It was supposed to be one of those we’ll come to your little town if you can all pull together kinds of contests. Clearly Oshawa has a lot of KISS fans.

So can you imagine how elated they must’ve felt when they won?

Ah, good for them. Most of Oshawa revolved around the auto industry, and that went tits up here just like it did everywhere else. They really could’ve used a break like that. So when KISS crapped on their parade, I was genuinely saddened to hear about it. I mean, I might not like to be in the place, but that doesn’t mean I wish it harm.

KISS decided on good old Toronto because, as their spokesman put it, “the size of the production turned out to require a larger venue”. Bummer. They said they’d do something, but didn’t quite say what. Those lines are so far apart, you can read a whole stage play between them: “Ummm … shit … we can’t do the concert there … a … an autograph session? … that’s pretty weak … ummm … something … for me to come up with later”

Hope it’s something good!

While on the subject of reading, I came across a couple of articles, well, a few articles, that caught my attention in the past few days. The first was by the Toronto Star’s David Olive who kinda beats up on bloggers when he says that when the going gets tough, bloggers run to the mainstream media for a paycheque. Well, I don’t know about you, but this blog is something I just like to do. I have a steady day job and TCL is my excuse to get outside, get some fresh(er) air, and some much-needed exercise. It also forces me to keep my eyes open every day and just try to observe. Instead of sitting at my stuffy Toronto Star desk pontificating about all bloggers’ nefarious motives. Besides, my means to world domination are other. After that, who needs money?

Is it possible that some bloggers would be pleased as punch to merge into the mainstream media? I bet you could find a few. Is it possible that sometimes blogs feed the mainstream media? It’s been known to happen.

Nota bene (heh, the only Latin I know – I use it when I try to sound lawyery): I made mention of “The Bridge” (a police flick), way back in May. I suppose that I could have asked a few more questions, but whaddya gonna do? I don’t recall going to reporter academy, I’m just a guy living his life. And I happened to be there first :P

Oh, and you may recall the short interactions I’ve had with Steve Mann, watery musician and cyborg (the links explain all). Well on Sunday, out of the blue, The Star got the exact same idea! Yeah, totally ripped me off.

Anyhow, I didn’t want to argue against the mainstream media. Clearly I’m a news-breaker and some of them are just biters, that’s all. And sometimes I’m just lucky. Sometimes there are as many reasons to blog as there are bloggers. For me, it’s a way to escape the Dilbert strip I otherwise live in. If someone paid me a few bucks to write what I was gonna write about anyway, minus a couple of expletives, I wouldn’t be against it. As long as I wasn’t against it, dig? I fail to see the evil. But hardly suckling at the tit.

Ooh! Laundry’s done! Very good news. Star, I give you permission to break it. You know I love you, you big lug. *playful punch on chin* Mail the cheque(s), I trust ya ;)

Alas, dear reader, I also have my slow days.

Aside from the production being shot across the street from me…

…it’s been a drab day. It’s kinda soggy and April-y and it’s still that time of year when it’s better to stay indoors with a couple of kick-ass kung fu flicks and something nice and warm to drink. Or do something else to keep oneself warm. I certainly hope the cast and crew of  “The Bridge” brought their galoshes.

Hmmm. I guess I just broke news on that, didn’t I? It’s Canadian made so … that’s … always … something … isn’t … it? (face grimacing with discomfort). I’m hoping it’ll be good, let’s just leave it at that.

But what I really wanted to do was to go on a little excursion into the local news to do some skimming between the headlines. Of course, a link is presented to each story, but I’m pleased to summarize them all for you as well as to boil them down to their essential component in the true and neighbourly spirit of brevity. Also, so I have something to write.

National Post -> Flu fears halt travel plans for Some Canadian schools

Summary: This one time, at band camp, they cancelled our trip because of an outbreak. So the tuba player…

One word: mild.

Toronto Star -> Can 56 angry Tamils save one girl’s life?

Summary: Seriously? You could only find twenty Tamils? Did no one bother to look outside the window or, like, lift their head up when walking home? You’re here, they’re here. Jeez.

One word: seriously?

Toronto Sun -> This is prepared?

Summary: Durham region: memories of short-longs, “racing” pickups with flames down the sides, and the smell of freshly turned manure in the mornings. Here’s Port Perry. OH FUCK! THEY LET THINGS SLIP! THE VIRUS IS EVERYWHERE! PORT PERRY FUCKED US ALL! — Calm down, Michelle. Take a deep breath. Everythying’s going to be okay.

One word: chill

Globe and Mail -> Not just us: Cockatoos have rhythm too

Summary: Rhythmic spasms in avian species are the primary indicator of Avian Influenza. Look like Mexican parrots too!

One word: fluff

I know, it’s all fluff. But that’s okay, it’s a fluffy kind of day.

Now I’m going to retire to my fluffy pillow to think fluffy thoughts. Perhaps to masturbate. We’ll see where the evening takes us.

I suggest you do the same (take your pick); unless it’s sunny outside where you are, in which case get the hell outta here!