Killman Zoo

General

Killman ZooWedged in between Caledonia and the upper outer reaches of Hamilton is The Killman Zoo. An ironically named, farmlike spot where Sharkboy and I bravely decided to stop on our way back from camping this weekend.

I say “bravely” because the approach to Killman Zoo is much like the opening scene of Texas Chainsaw Massacre: you exit highway 6 on a long deserted country road, leading to a house set back behind high hedges and discarded farm equipment, hand-painted signs shakey neon colours, and the ever ominous shack that doubled as gift shop and entrance. Behind the counter was a lanky man who was a tad bit wild eyed in his welcome. As soon as I saw a mother and 2 kids signing up for a tour, I felt a bit better.

We ventured into the zoo with our tin full of peanuts and after a few initial shocks that zoos always give me I decided that I was glad we made the stop. At just under $30 entrance fee (two adults, a tin of peanuts for feeding plus taxes), you’ll never be closer to a lion or a bear or goat. Safe? The wire cages certainly looked solid. And the animals looked well fed so I doubt that they would have lunged at you in hunger. Not to mention the over abundance of signage warning you of missing fingers and the distance lynx pee can travel.

Humane? Probably not. The cages aren’t the Metro Zoo in Toronto, that’s for sure. I did feel a pang of sadness to see some of the big cats acting a bit squirrelly. And I wondered how these animals were stored in the winter. The land the zoo was on was vast and rolling and we only got glimpses of shacks and barns that held these poor creatures. The owner assured us that they were well kept and in some cases were sent out to stud at other zoos. Still, I wondered if they were “happy” in an animal sense.

Either way, you’ll not get any closer to an African lion or tiger in your lifetime (unless you go to Africa and get eaten by one). If I wanted to, I am pretty sure I could have touched that panting, docile male lion.

If you go, take some freezer-burnt meat and/or that wad of Canadian Tire money that’s just lying around. They gladly accept donations.

Photos are here.

YouTube posting

Celebs and Media

I’m not too convinced that posting stuff from YouTube directly to my blog is such a good idea. I sort of think it’s whole product model is shakey Web 2.0 second bubble burst and when it does collapse, I’ll be left with more holes in my blog than Butchie’s underwear.

But with that said, I give you Robocat:

Ridiculous!

Personal Bits

Sharkboy, The Postman and The Chicago Boys Grizz and Evil Panda, were having dinner the other night, a set meal at the Bear Jamboree. We were served cabbage rolls with bacon wrapped around the mushy content of whatever is in a cabbage roll, surrounded by the leaf.

Sharkboy: “This is good. But it’s a bit too bacony.”

I swear to god there was a full 30 second moment of silence before the rest of us replied in near unison:

“Too bacony?!?”

Out Into the Big World, or Up and Coming Performances

Hobbies, Personal Bits

I’m nearing the end of my Bad Dog Theatre course (2 classes to go!) and it’s been a fun and emotional 32 weeks. Mostly hillarious. It would suck bad if it was 32 weeks of sad improv. I’m feeling a bit down that I don’t have this outlet anymore however there are other classes I could take to fine tune my improv abilities, but there will be a needy “gimmie attention!” vacuum every Wednesday now.

Over the four months there were a few points that stick out in my mind:

The look my teacher Gord Oxley gave me when I was doing my character Q&A and I derailed his questioning and turned the whole interview homo.

Joseph pushing the boundaries hard: He was the first to mention a Lithuanian Steamer as breakfast cereal. He’s now in L.A. pitching a TV show to Sony. I wish him luck because he’s wicked talented and smart.

I ended a scene with Lara by suggesting we become “fuck buddies”. I was the first to use the f-bomb.

Meek Michelle blowing us all away by entering a scene by telling Earl to “Fuck off!”

Earl. Just Earl doing his deaf/codgety old guy shtick. Earl pulled out a few really good characters but I will always remember his “old guy in the elevator”.

Sue’s glances to the class when she’s on stage, looking for confirmation that what she just did/said was funny. In itself, that made me laugh.

Lisa’s outrageous French accent and her ability to accept whatever I threw at her.

Jennifer’s physicality. She actually makes you feel like she’s wrestling a snake.

Ahhh good times, good times…

“But Ted,” you interject, “How can we, as an audience, experience this comedy first hand (because god knows it’s not funny when you blog about it)?”

Glad you asked. Wed Aug 30th is our student show and is by invite only due to limited seating. Mine are taken, sorry. But our alumni is currently in discussions to do a night at the Victory Cafe. If they’ll have us. I’ll keep you posted on those dates.

So. Any suggestions as to what I should do next? I’m not going back to ROTC, so flag twirling is out. Musical theatre?

My First Post

Queer stuff, Toronto

…no no no, no here! At Torontoist! I am their newest Queer news correspondent!

My first post is a quick and dirty email interview with Richard Ryder, a man I would bed in seconds (sorry Sharkboy!).

I’ve been busy the last few weeks with going away and such and missed reporting on the AIDS conference (I wrote a snappy article called “Steve’s Not Here” but tech problems blocked it) and the Church Street Fetish Fair, but I think I’ll be on top of things from now on.

Go figure! Me! A cub reporter reporting on cubs! Grammar and all.

Sexual Politics

Queer stuff, Toronto

Last weekend the southern Ontario BDSM group DSSG took over the entire campsite for their annual “whack-a-bum” weekend. The park, usually filled with drunken trailer trash manboys, was filled with straight men and women who communally believed in higher sexual prowess through pain and humiliation, made obvious by their thoughtful displays of St Andrew crosses and dog cages placed carefully beside their tents. How prepared! For those gay men who had rented for the year (the Seasonals), they were allowed to come and watch the festivities ($30 extra to actually join in on the slap-happy fun) and Sharkboy and I went to check it out.

One notable difference with this group as opposed to a regular weekend crowd was their energy level. It was up there and not in a FLY Nightclub kind of way. The music coming from their sites was a bit more rockish compared to the Cher beats that usually go on (and on) into the night. The DSSG people laughed in earnest, not in drunk/drugged hysteria. They smiled at the thought of being paddled. They dressed however they damn well pleased with not a word of displeasure coming from their fellow brothren/sisters. Despite all this, they weren’t as openly friendly as the usual trailer/campground gays. Why? Well, what happens when you insert a group of heterosexual women into a bastion of gay males? Right! Mysogonistic Cunt jokes! And I am sure that the tense comments regarding sexual identity and catty laughter coming from the Seasonal sites wasn’t falling on deaf ears as the DSSG women walked by. There was a palatable tension between the gay men and the straight women. I guess because they’re both after the same thing – a straight man. Regardless, it seemed to me that the most chatty, friendly people were the straight guys because they held all the cards.

Sharing the park meant that we shared everything. Including the tiny washroom/shower hut. One morning I exited a washroom stall after doing my morning poo, to clean my hands. I was stopped short at the sink counter by a woman who had her night bag and towel strewn across the only two sinks. I hedged a bit, making a “Um… Uh oh!” gesture with my hands.

She looked at me and glared: “I guess my stuff is in your way. You don’t want to touch my stuff?! Is it because I’m a woman?”

“No. I just took a dump and I don’t want to put my shitty hands on your towel.”

Regardless, the weekend was a nice change from the gossiping and trailer park politics.

After that weekend of whips. whacks and screams, we came home to the Church Street Fetish Fair. To compare the two S&M events would be like watching Philip Seymore Hoffman (DSSG) and John Goodman (Church St Fetish Fair) giving their best interpretation of Truman Capote. CSFF was embarassing, overbloated and over-hyped. No demos? No more than ten vendors? Only one bar doing an extended drinking patio into the street, and NOT the Black Eagle? Really Church Street BIA and Folsom Fair North: Make nice, stop this stupid, inane, in-fighting and get your shit together. The FFN boys know how to run a party. The CSFF people have a great party space. What happened between the two groups that split them like Nicole and Paris? Will they ever make up?

This Just In…

Celebs and Media

Thousands of hours of comedy tape negated within 24 hours. Personally, I think the hell the Ramsey family have endured all these years (the comedy skits, the nosey newsies, the Geraldo Riveras gushing about speculative killers on their front lawn) is justified for the exploitation they placed upon JonBenet. All these pagent parents should not be surprised when their child, who usually have more make up on than Tammy Faye trying samples at a discount makeup barn, is targeted by weirdos.

Shops at Canadian airports are closing due to poor sales. Stricter security rules are blamed. Huh? I thought it was because people were finally getting wise to paying $12 for a 4 day old bagel. Argh! My savings of $4 on a magnum of Absolut is stymied! The terrorists have won!

Steve finally is associated with The AIDS conference. Sources close to the Prime Minister have been quoted as saying “There’s a what going on where?” Conference organizers were hopeful that Steve would be making a last moment arrival to the gathering.

…who knows, maybe he’ll choose to come here himself and make a fabulous announcement before the end of our meeting…

Says Dr. Mark Wainberg. “We’ll certainly leave him some chip dip and a couple sandwiches. I think I have a t-shirt left. Is he a size M?”

And finally, robot overlords have infiltrated Japanese primary schools.