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While I haven’t actually been inside the thing — I’m told that it’s a bit of an engineering / acoustic marvel with the performance hall being isolated from the outer shell with giant damper supports; a building on stilts within a building — the spectacle inside doesn’t nearly match the drab outside. One day soon I’m planning to take advantage of the $12 standing-room-only admission, but I can assure you it won’t be because I’m drawn in by the architecture.

Did I mention “ugh” already?

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The Leslie L. Dan Pharmacy Building at the University of Toronto is reflected in the curved windows of the OPG Building. Corner of University and College Streets, Toronto, Ontario.

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10mm
f4.5
Toronto, Ontario
2009

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It’s mostly the rhetoric and misinformation guiding the protest that I take exception to. After all, people were just expressing themselves and exercising their right to peaceful protest which, much to John Clarke’s chagrin, ended up actually being peaceful. There were a few arrests made along the route, that’s true, but I suspect they involved the kind of people that would get arrested any old day, protest or not.

For most of us on the street the Friday afternoon was more like a parade.

Or a carnival perhaps.

Although it’s difficult to make out facial expressions beneath the gas masks, I can attest to the fact that more than one cop was willing to crack a smile and a joke that day.

And despite (or perhaps because of), the heavy police presence, the march generally felt quite safe.

A little loud perhaps…

…but safe.

As more than one fellow photographer pointed out, it’ll be a while before we get photo-ops like this again. Because, contrary to many of the protesters’ assertions, this “police state” we live in hardly ever gets this many cops in one place at one time.

As the group wound its way south along University Avenue, blocking off motorists, pedestrians, and businesses, they came up to a line of police at Elm Street. Apparently unaware of the irony of the situation, they demanded that they be allowed to walk further and that their rights to be on the streets were being violated.

This resulted in the first tense moment of the weekend (and it wasn’t even the weekend yet!), as Montreal riot police marched out from some side alley, pounding their shield in a menacing display of force. I was intimidated, that’s for sure.

As I stood perched on top of a nearby statue recording the situation I began to get the sinking feeling that, perhaps, things wouldn’t go well. The cops weren’t standing in direct opposition to the group – it wasn’t a showdown, in other words — but I knew they were ready to rush into the melee should anything start.

After a few moments the protest group grew silent and onlookers were told to move farther south. Uh-oh. Was this when the violence would erupt?

Thankfully, after containing the crowd along University Avenue for a few minutes the police decided to open up their lines along Elm Street to allow a thin stream of protesters to continue along the alternate route. Maybe it was alternate; the actual direction of the protest wasn’t really shared with anyone in the crowd. The organizers spent more time talking about bringing war to the city than telling people what, specifically, would be happening.

The loud group filled the narrow street and, after a few more stops along the way, were re-directed back to University and then back along College Street. At that point the tension had all but disappeared and the police became just an escort again.

The protesters got their message out, which police officers undoubtedly rushed to share with the G20 delegation, and all of us, now tuckered out after a long afternoon’s march, returned to Allan Gardens where the protesters pitched a tent city and continued loudly into the night.

I heard what sounded like live hip-hop performances and other acts (funky stuff, if I must say so myself). There didn’t seem to be much concern for the civil rights of nearby residents but, if nothing else, the park was clean and clear the next morning. And were I to judge by the interactions between police and protesters that evening, with people bringing ice cream and snacks to cops seated on curbs, I don’t think there was any animosity between the two groups.

Had people been able to keep that attitude into the weekend, I can’t help but get the feeling that what happened on Saturday wouldn’t have happened.

Continued in next part…

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So, until I get a chance to sit down and do it up properly, here’s the OCAP-led (Ontario Coalition Against Poverty), protest in hastily slapped-together videos.

My favourite was when the riot police came out in formation. :D

Everyone gathered at Allan Gardens…

…then they marched along Carlton/College Street (same street, it just changes name halfway through), to University Avenue where they turned south and were met with a pretty imposing group of riot police.

After the little standoff the group decided to head west along Elm Street. However, after dead-ending in the narrow street they decided to do a loop back to University and back onto College…

…and then we all went back to Allan Gardens for ice cream and songs around the campfire — we were all tuckered out. The protesters are currently camped out there and I can still hear them whooping it up.

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Consider this, for example:

Awww. You see Santa’s Workshop, a few rosy-cheeked, satisfied elves sitting outside with the happy labours of the year past, some cute houses topped with fluffy snow and powdered sugar. Merry Christmas, kids!

From another angle, this is Santa’s Sweatshop, miserly and terribly underdressed children cast outside their warm shelters in the middle of a cold Siberian winter, no doubt for under-producing for the “jolly old elf” (who’s probably enjoying himself a back-alley rub-and-tug somewhere in Bangkok). Merry freakin’ Christmas, kids.

At this point, some parents may say, “But I’ve taught my kids well. They’ll make the right choices.” I’ve no reason to doubt anyone’s parenting skills, but upbringing is no match for military-style indoctrination. Pretty soon your kid’s goose-stepping down University Avenue with the rest of his comrades:

Still not willing to co-operate? Let’s see how he feels after this:

No? I see; junior likes to play hardball, huh?

That’s right. If they don’t get him one way, it’ll be another. Do you really want your kid playing a tuba? What kind of a horrible parent are you to even consider that question?

And if you think that maybe some discipline might actually be good for your kid, take a moment to consider this: these groups are all about coercion, cohesion, group-think; discipline here is mostly founded on fear and mistrust. They don’t think twice about throwing a few members under the car to preserve the organization:

If, at this point, you still think that attending the parade with your children is acceptable, consider how the police will protect your kids once they’re “in the wild”:

Exactly, not at all. The cops stood there the entire time, not a care on their faces. Smiles, some of them. Instead of doing their jobs and clubbing / shooting / arresting people, they just stood around watching the procession like it was the eleven o’clock news. I think some of them were even drinking some sort of hot chocolate beverage. Drinking. On the job.

I did mention some of these displays were insidious, didn’t I? See if you can spot the hazard in the following scene:

Yes, university-aged girls are dangerous, but I’m talking about something more immediate. Imagine, the moment the pyramid goes up, the sweaty old men come out of the woodwork clutching their malodourous camera phones, flashing yellow smiles, and sporting all sorts of unpleasant stains on their sweatpants.

I’m sorry to have to get so graphic, but it’s important that parents everywhere be aware of what really goes down every year. This is simply no place for kids.

And finally, what about jolly old Saint Nick? What’s his ultimate role in all of this?

I don’t think any secret has ever been made of Santa Claus’ hyper-critical judgment of humanity: rewarding lists of people who fall within his insane definition of “nice”, monitoring those on the “naughty” lists for whom he reserves his own personal retribution. And heaven help you if you don’t accept one of his magnanimous “gifts” come Christmas.

Once again, I can’t stress enough how terribly inappropriate this event is for children. The numerous examples given in these two posts are, I think, sufficient to convey the imminent dangers you’d be placing your children under. Keep them away for all the right reasons.

Plus, they start to get irritatingly loud and underfoot after a couple of hours.

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To begin with, you have strange men winding their way through the audience snapping random pictures of children and posting them on only God-knows what website. That alone should be enough, but there’s much more to be wary of.

Consider the example set by  pre-pubescent delinquents who don’t think twice about defacing public property:

“Welcome Santa” must be kid code for “deliver crack cocaine here”. If only that were the worst of it. What happens when your child learns to steal cars? Driving without a license (and training) not only means a harsher jail sentence, it’s also extremely dangerous:

If you don’t believe me you can ask the cops. There were plenty of them along the parade route, handing out literature to educate the young about the dangers of falling in with the wrong crowd. Why they even allowed kids to attend is beyond me:

Those are just a few of the criminal influences that could befall your child at the Santa Claus Parade. Besides the dangers of running afoul of the law, kids also run the risk of mental / emotional trauma. Those who attended and have a fear of clowns are probably catatonic by now:

Reasonable people would think that inspiring terror on this scale would be enough. They’re just kids, for heaven’s sake! But no, parade organizers had to take it to twisted new heights:

As if fear weren’t enough, bringing children to the event means exposing them to all sorts of filth:

Every cunning device is used to ensure that no child escapes unscathed. For those with more active imaginations, a terrible portrait is carefully painted to resonate with their young minds. Imagine being held fast by a giant, blood-red beast who’s probably already feasted on your friends:

The parade of horrors continues with strange, nightmarish creatures that are neither beast nor man, but some ghoulish mixture of both:

Unfortunately I’ve run out of space in this post, but sufficed to say that the hazards lurking about the Santa Claus parade are many, some much more insidious than what’s shown here. I’ll continue with these tomorrow but if you have a kid or two and are considering a similar event in your home town, I urge you to reconsider. Attending is a first-class ticket to a shattered future. Won’t you please think of the children?

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