Posted on
October 25th, 2010
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Comments Off on Ladies and gentlemen…
…the train has now arrived at its final destination. Please be sure you have all your luggage and please allow elderly passengers to disembark first. It was a pleasure being your sauce carrier of choice today, we hope you join us on the Gravy Express again soon. Please enjoy your stay in Mayor Elect Rob Ford’s Toronto.
I’m a bit disappointed but not because I’m necessarily against anything Rob wants to do. As I’ve said, I don’t think his plan reaches out far enough. But most of what he’s proposing can’t be a bad thing. Slimming down City Hall? Sure, why not? Revoking some of the privileges that councillors get? Can’t argue with that. Pulling away from the unions? Obviously a popular idea. That’s the “gravy train” that Rob’s ridden right into the mayorship.
But here’s the thing — if he does what he says he’ll do, and can also find the other tens (hundreds?) of millions of dollars needed to keep the city from sinking, can co-operate (or backroom deal) enough with councillors to get stuff done, and manages to do it year over year, I’d say that was a great start. This is a big city and there’s lots to be done. But sure, fixing City Hall can certainly figure into that so it’s not that I’m against Rob Ford. With the way some people were talking tonight you’d think that the seven horsemen were sharpening their scythes on the corner of Bay and Queen.
And for the record, Rob’s is the only hand I shook out on the street — he was pounding the pavement with his brother Doug shortly after the Ford-Doneit-Henderson thing broke out. I suggested it would work to his favour.
Posted on
October 20th, 2010
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Comments Off on Mounted Beaver
Apparently there’s enough business to have kept this place open for quite a few years:
Fer real?
Fer real.
All I can say is, when Ollie kicks the bucket, there’s no frickin’ way I’m having him violated with cotton (or whatever they use), and then having him permanently buggered in some attack pose. And any animals I’m killing I fully intend to eat; having my dinner plate bronzed might be a better idea.
O Smoke’s Poutine!
Our curds and gravy man!
Honest fries in all thy boxes tan.
With drown’ed spuds we fork thee up,
The True North obviously!
From far and wide,
O Canada, we know you love poutine.
French fried poutine gravy and curdy!
O Canada, we know you love poutine.
O Canada, we know you love poutine.
—
The official cold-weather anthem. Night nips these days – ‘fo ‘sho. Single digits at night. And moist. That rain again. Well, I believe that poutine can assist with this. I don’t believe anyone has ever attempted to prove poutine was in any way good for you so one should never be burdened with any delusions when consuming it. This also pretty much guarantees it’s delicious.
I got mine with sliced beef at a nearby Smoke’s. One day I talked to a friend of Smoke Putinerie’s owner, Smoke Junior. The smiling sticker that continues to make the rounds around town are of Smoke Senior, in memoriam. Or so I’m led to believe.
They’re not glamorous locations, I feel I should mention. Often not staffed by glamorous people. But in the coming seasons, Smoke’s is a warm and tasty hearth on vast cold city nights.
Ladies, could you see yourself meticulously pinning notes to Marc’s coat, perhaps as an aid for when he gets lost? Do you look at this photo and think romance? And love? Then consider dropping him a line.
There was a brief, bright flash of sun during which I ventured out to eat lunch — I’ve decided Sushi Queen is my sushi joint of choice along the Queen strip, despite incessantly playing Rogers and Hammerstein show tunes over the meal. Fresh sushi / sashimi, good tempura, and a teriyaki that actually tastes and smells good. Surprisingly rare, that last one.
Then it clouded over again in the afternoon, and everything goes kinda hazy again after that.
I believe Sarah Thomson threw in the towel and is now joining forces with George Smitherman in the upcoming election. And maybe it’s a fuzzy recollection but I thought I remembered the Star starting up a new series called “The Smell Test” where they dissect election promises for feasibility. Will the Star-backed champion win, I wonder?
But it may just be fuzzy dream also. Just that kind of a day, you know?
Ladies and gentlemen, Mister Chet Baker on vocals and horn, and Patrick on the shutter:
Yesterday, all was fine in the dandy neighbourhood of Regent Park. The sun was shining. People were trancing out to the drum group perched conspicuously beneath a Smitherman banner.
Connection established. We know who’s funding this thing.
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