From the overly cautious minds of Toronto City Hall comes:

23 Division – Gun Play No Way
Event Date: Saturday, 25. June 2005

Description: The objective of this campaign is to encourage non-violent youth play in the community. Any child can bring in their toy guns in exchange for a variety of non-violent toys.
All Toronto Police Divisions will be participating in this event.
No. 23 Division will be holding their event at the Albion Centre, located at 1530 Albion Road.

I can understand where the city of Toronto is coming from with this campaign, but the TV commercial opens up with a child handing over his rather large Super Soaker, implying that water gun play leads to popping a cap into a punk’s ass outside some North York night club. That bulbous brightly coloured “gun” is now bad, ok? Hand it over, playa, and get your free pizza and pop.

Now, I would never give a child under 10 a “realistic” gun as a toy. Even after that age, I’d give them a stern serious talking to regarding the responsibility of gun use. But a frigging water gun? Toronto Police are sapping the life out of “fun”. Are we raising our children to be listless, over-coddled, flower arranging wusses? “What’s the matter, boobila? You hot? Here’s a styrofoam cup, half full of water so you can’t drown yourself. Go splash your friend. But dont use it as a weapon, ok? And make sure it’s filtered water! AND DON’T AIM FOR HIS EYES!!” To quote Foghorn Leghorn: “That kid ain’t right.”

Here’s where I mention that responsible parents teach their kids to respect guns and life, and who knows, that might even lead kids into a life of crime prevention.

Really, I wonder what overly leftist granola chomping earth child thought this one up and sold it to the cops.

Me: Did you remember your shoes?

Sharkboy: Yup.

Me: Your towel?

Sharkboy: Yup.

Me: Did you remember your lock?

Sharkboy: Yup!

Me: How about your monkey?

Sharkboy: Oh geeze. Forgot that. But I do have a gorilla.

Me: (sputtering) Are you implying… Are you saying I’m… (pause) Well that makes you Jane Goodall! You have mousey blonde hair! You have mousey blonde hair! You have mousey blonde hair!

Sharkboy: Jane Goodall does chimps. Not gorillas.

Me: (unable to remember Dian Fossey’s name) Uh. Okay. You’re Sigourney Weaver at the tail end of her respectful career! You’re Sigourney Weaver at the tail end of her respectful career! You’re Sigourney Weaver at the tail end of her respectful career!

It’s kind of typical that Sharkboy and I zipped up to The Point for one night to see how long it would take to put up his new Columbia Cheeta-class tent, yet not take any pictures of it!

Anyhoo. Pics are up from the 24hrs of intense camping stupidity.

Why are people afraid of change?

I dont mean the “stand in front of a tank, waving your arms wildly as the world watches” kind of change. I mean the coinage in your pocket kind of change.

Tonight is laundry night. I forgot to go to the bank at lunch to “legally” get change. That is, to get change without guilt, attitude or question. So armed with a twenty, I had to scour the neighbourhood to get some laundry machine fodder.

The first place I came across was Dominion up by where I work. I ask the Service Desk drone politely if she could break a $20. “A roll of quarters and ten ones if you have it.”

“Loonies come in $25 rolls,” she tells me.

“You dont have any loose?” Nope.

I take the roll of quarters optimistically and head to Lawrence subway station.

I hand over the ten I now have. “Can I get some change?” I ask the goof in the booth. He’s fat. And short. Perched high on a barstool like chair so that his nipples are just level with the counter. Without comment he’s tossing me quarters, a couple loonies (yay!) and a twonie and a fiver. As this barrage of change is coming at me, I try to push the quarters back in and say, “Can I get like, $5 in loonies?”

He says nothing. I take the singles and leave the rest. “Can I get all loonies for this?” I ask again.

Arms crossed. Looking at the change. Looks up at me and without a word of a lie, a look of disgust comes across his face, like I’ve just asked if I could poop on his chest while he sings Britney Spears. “No,” he says.

I angrily take all the change and deliberaly drop a token into the slot. There! Take that you rude fuck!

I hoof it to Lawblaws by my apartment. It’s not the most stellar store. The produce is never fresh, there’s always a spill in some isle and the last time I went there, the checkout guy stayed on his cell trying to iron out the drunken haze that was his weekend. The phone never left his face as he swiped my purchases. Not even a thank you. You get my drift…the place sucks for customer service. I am not hopefull. I am downright dejected and ready for defeat. In my head I start to cut back on my laundry.

While I waited for the Service Desk drone, I avoided the stares of all the people in line for the 1-8 items line who all gave me dissaproving looks as if I was trying to jump the line. I wondered when asking for change became such a guilt ridden activity.

The drone arrives and I ask, waving a fiver, “Can I get five singles?”

“Singles?”

I had just broke some Canadian law by not saying ‘Loonies’. “Loonies,” I clarify.

“For…?” he leads.

“For this $5?”

Oh! his face says. And promptly gets me some change. Irony.

“You guys mind if I throw some water on the rocks?”

Its 8am in the Y’s sauna. Dry sauna I might add. This guy is standing right in front of a sign that says “Please refrain from putting water on the rocks/elements.”

“Uh, there’s a sign behind you…” Sharkboy points out.

I start in with: “I use to work in a gym and we’d have to replace the elements monthly because of guys like–”

“Ok! Ok! No problem!” he capitulates. His buddy enters and they stand by the rocks as if they were guests at a 50’s cocktail party sans martinis and clothes (well I am sure there were nude cocktail parties back then… I digress). “No water,” he informs his friend. “Hey remember Robin? Big guy? This is going back 8 years or so, back when the sauna was like over here, remember? One time he and I were in here and we put so much water on the rocks that it started to spark and smoke was pouring out of it and there was a flame! The alarm didn’t go off though.”

So this guy makes a habit of breaking gym property? He continues:

“There was one time at a hotel in Whistler when 40 of us were at a conference and we were drinking and we started to throw our glasses into the fire and the liquor started smoking hard and we set off the alarm BEEP BEEP BEEP! And everyone left and I had to plead with the management not to kick us out.”

Good times, eh buddy? What the fuck? This guy was almost bragging about burning down a gym and a hotel. At least he had the decency to ask us if he could go ahead and burn our gym down first. Since Sharkboy and I are nude and really uncomfortable with this pyro bragging on his burnitalldown stories, we make our exit. I am sure that after we left he tossed water on the rocks. He had a soaked towel with him on the ready.

Yes I told the staff. No, they couldn’t do anything.

I want Cory Doctorow. Not because he’s like, smart and stuff. No. Other than being geek-sexy, I love his glasses. Soon I will have a vintage pair as well.

If you have an iPod you can read his latest Sci Fi “Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town“. Its available off his site and can be read through the “notes” feature. He’s so cutting edge I want to save his stem cells.

Sharkboy and I arrived back from camping just in time to put on CP24 just as the parade was starting.

I would just like to comment here that the woman they got to interview David Miller and Bill Blair right as the parade started, should never be given a microphone ever again until she learns exactly the why/who/where/when of journalism. What a stupid cow. I missed her name but she usually does sports and such for City/CP24. Her two main questions to both men were if they were “nervous” about marching in the gay parade, especially to Blair, who was in uniform and that “some guys go for a guy in uniform”. Blair handled her insensitive and dumb, homosexist question excellently: an odd glance to her with the comment “I have a wife at home who also loves a man in uniform.” Later she was replaced with someone who looked like she wasn’t afraid of homos/dykes/queers.

We hit the streets after washing off the lotions from camping and did a couple circuts up and down the street, caught the tail end of the parade (no one cheered the Conservatives for Queers group, dispite the pleading signs saying they were “for” gay marriages – snort!) and bought copywright infringement tees in the marketplace. Eventually we parked ourselves right in front of Timothy’s and just stood and watched. People eventually came up to us and like social hummingbirds: hovered and then wandered off into the throng. Had a few instances where persons who had indulged a bit too much decided that we had to comment on how much fun *they* were having but nothing assaultive (my new word). I was glad to have missed the build up to Sunday’s Parade as that crowds these days seem to give me the heebeejeebees, however Sharkboy and I love people watching and last night was the Olympics of people watching. I felt guilty not taking pictures but I made a promise to myself that this year I was going to experience Pride as non-evasively as possible as that I’ve marched/worked/volunteered for the last 10yrs. I was proud and offer kudos to the Pride committee for another great event.

Prior to the parade, we camped and enjoyed the fruits of perfect blue skies and hot diet root beer on the deck of the campground’s pool. As ususal, expect pics/vids soon.

Do people sitting in a NYC theater go “yup!” or “hoo!” everytime Mall of Americas is splashed across the screen? Its hard for a movie shown in Canada to garnish respect when you know that the unnamed “American” city the heroes are cavorting around in is obviously the downtown core of Toronto. LotD had a “too many tight shots” feel, like Johnny Mnemonic, denying the viewer a satisfying base to reference from. You can usually sense a Canadian Tax Write-off movie when you see the characters exit the PATH underground out by the Toronto Stock Exchange.

And why do movies produced in Canada have these unnecessary story layers that do nothing to advance the action? Why the extra goons sent from Hopper, other than Star Trek Red Shirt fodder? Why the akward gun totin’ “love interest” if the damn thing ain’t going to go anywhere? Why the Picard-esque “Make it so!” line at the end ordering the ragged troop to Canada?

There were odd editing moments too. Ever see The Muppet Show when they are trying to create a sense of panic and have a chicken run in front of the action? That’s right, they used it. During a scene with Dennis Hopper and his butler (?) trying to get into a basement (??), zombies breech his stronghold (as they usually do) and are wreaking havok in his totalitarian utopia. Standing in the stairwell doorway a singular silver haired old lady zips in front of Dennis, just before he delivers his high hubris line: “You had no right!” It was pretty weird.

There were good moments (Best head-nearly-off zombie bite, ever! Best sprinkling of uniform-specific zombies! Best zombie reveal shot by having them come out of the water!) and there were small hommages to past Romero movies, but he’s a bit too little too late. Dawn of the Dead, 28 Days Later and even Shawn of the Dead leap-frogged over Georgeo and updated the whole genre.

Nothing new here folks, keep shuffling by.

I am amazed at this app. Go get it. Warning! I was a bit nauseated when I jumped from one location to the next.

Evil Panda! You can find the campground with it! Plug in Turkey Point!

Here are the Pride at the Point pics, here on the day that Canada becomes the gayest country in the western hemisphere.