Desperately Seeking Debra

I got an e-mail awhile back from Debra,

shewhoseeks.blogspot.com letting me know 

that she and her rare one were going to be

in my area soon and asking if I would like to

meet them - and Lois, midlifefibres.blogspot.com

for coffee.

 

Well who wouldn't?

I mean if you follow Debra you'll know she's

a bit of a mystery. 

 

So I jumped in the spy car and headed towards

Steeltown aka Hamilton, Ontario. 

 

Well my friends, wonder at her mysterious

ways no more, because not only did I get a few

pictures of Debra I got one of her bare naked

 

 

 

 hands. 

 

 

 

 

And just so that you know that I am serious

in my role as a blogger who uncovers what

is hidden and leaves no stone unturned in

her quest for the truth, here is a picture of me,

Debra and Lois studying a map of the route

Rob Ford will most likely take when he is

hounded out of Toronto.

 

 

Oh, we had a grand lunch which ended

far too quickly.

 

And Debra, when you get home and read

this, I must say that I'm sorry that I had

to be the one to unmask you.

 

Lois made me do it.

 

 

 

 

 

Rob Ford and the Mills of God

Rob_Ford_meets_the_press (Photo credit: West Annex News)

I know everybody is just about done to death

with comments about Toronto's bad boy mayor

but I just can help myself.

 

From where I sit Rob Ford looks like the western

equivalent of Sharia law - might is right and women

and minorities are neither respected nor heard.

 

He is our one step back for every two steps forward

in the struggle for justice and a greater cultural

balance of the masculine and feminine.

 

He represents a mindset that has been in place

for 5,000 years and has brought our planet to

the edge of extinction.

 

But no more.

 

 

THOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, Rob Ford,

Yet they grind exceeding small;

Though with patience She stands waiting,

With exactness grinds She all.

 

(apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Related articles

• Rob Ford's former chief of staff out to 'kill the mayor, politically and otherwise': source
• 'Rob Ford Leaked Footage' video is totally not real

The Rob Ford In Me, The Me in Rob Ford

Mayor Rob Ford on January 1, 2011, wearing the chain of office. Toronto, Ontario, Canada. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Do I have an inner Rob ford?

 

An isolated, cruel male personality that is so out of

touch with the feminine that he's lost his soul?  So addicted

to power, alcohol and perhaps drugs that he doesn't even

feel the monkey on his back?

 

I do have an inner Rob Ford.

 

There was a time in my life when alcohol was the demon

that possessed me.  Or the demon used my weakness for

alcohol to sicken my psyche.

 

It was a long time ago and healing involved hitting rock

bottom. 

 

And when there's nowhere else to go you either kill yourself

or you have a serious conversation with God.

 

I don't think Rob Ford has hit rock bottom yet.

And although his fall will be well documented I don't think

his redemption will be

 

because he doesn't look as if he'll live long enough to discover

his inner Francie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Related articles

• Meet the other Rob Ford
• How the Rob Ford crack video could be faked
• Mayor Rob Ford crack video scandal: Gawker's 'Crackstarter' hits $200,000 goal

Squeaker

I had Squeaker the cat  put to sleep yesterday.

I wasn't prepared for it.

She had been losing weight but I thought as she was an older

girl she was probably diabetic.

She could have been, but she also had kidney failure.

The vet said he could maybe give her 4 more months

but they wouldn't have been easy months.

Squeaker went gently to sleep hearing my voice

and feeling my hand stoking her.

 
It was very hard but I couldn't help but think 

how we as a society allow veterinarians to be far more

compassionate than we allow doctors to be.

 

 

Grounded in Merritton

A now-abandoned lock of the Second Welland Canal in Merritton, Ontario. The photo shows the previous location of one of the two lock gates. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


A few weeks ago I mentioned that I had started a new blog

about my hometown Merritton, Ontario

 http://www.slabtowncanada.blogspot.com 

and was hoping to inspire others Merritton people to blog

their stories about  the old town.

 

On one hand I haven't been very successful.  I didn't realize

that blogging is a unique  form of writing to which not all people

can  adapt.

On the other hand the face book group that I set up to go along

with the blog is becoming quite popular.  More and more folks

are connecting with long lost friends and the "do you remember

when ..." conversations are long and always amusing.

 

Old photos are coming out of albums and being posted for

everybody to see. 


People we've lost are being mourned.

 

It has given me a feeling of being grounded. 

Of belonging.

 

I'm still hoping to round up more bloggers but for now

I'm one happy Cave Springs* camper!




* Cave Springs was the name of the camp a

lot of Merritton kids went to in the summer




***

Secnarf Sends News

 

I haven't seen hide nor hair of Secnarf

since Justin Trudeau was elected leader of the Liberal Party. 

 

Yesterday she sent a short e-mail saying she's working on a

Rhinoceros - Liberal Coalition. 

 

(She says it's the only way to defeat the Conservatives

and considering that Secnarf runs on the "two votes for every

woman"  platform - she may be right.)

 

Anyway she sent this photo of the Parliament buildings just

before the Victoria Day fireworks.

 

 

 

 

In case you have never been to Ottawa that is the Senate on the

right and the House of Commons on the left.

 

And speaking of politics what a few weeks it has been in

the national collective we call Canada!

 



 

First we watched the pollsters out west  explode when the B.C.

Liberals obliterated the provincial NDP. 

Surprise!

Then Toronto's mayor Rob Ford was (allegedly) caught doing

cocaine! 

 

Really lit up the sky here in south Ontari-ari-ari-oh! 

 

(And lit up TV stations around the world, too.!)

And in Quebec the PQ launched its own firestorm with

a full page ad in the Montreal Gazette explaining why the rights

of Anglophones in the province aren't important.

 

Sacré bleu!

 

And saving the best for last, we ordinary Canadians

watched the implosion of the  former journalistic super nova

called   Senator Mike Duffy. 


The scoundrel!

 

 

Yes, indeedy, my friends, we had an explosive Victoria Day

long week-end this year and Secnarf, as usual was on the job.

I'd e-mail her for more info but she was on her way

to a Rhino party meeting in Gander, Newfoundland.


Hope she took her shovel, they just got 51 cm of snow!

 

Bringing Back the Death Penalty

Woodcut Les pendus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When sweet little eight year old Tori Stafford was

sexually tortured and then murdered by being put

in a plastic bag and having her head pulverized with

a hammer I blogged that if the Canadian Government

decided to reinstate the death penalty for her two

killers I wouldn't protest it -

even though I would vote against bringing it back on a

permanent basis.

 

Today I was at the museum talking to another volunteer.

We were discussing the recent murder of Tim Bosma,
 
the young husband and new father from Hamilton, Ontario.

 

Bosma went out with two men to test drive a vehicle he

was selling and never came home. 

His burned body was found a week later.    

 

A young, wealthy man named Millard - who sported a

ridiculous pink Mohawk haircut in the photos that were

published, was charged with first degree murder this

morning. 

But the police are looking for at least two other men.

 

My co-worker thinks Millard has been set up.

What he says makes sense.

I mean how likely would it be for even the most stupid of

murderers to go to his own mother's house and leave the

victim's truck in her driveway?

 

And then there is the matter of the car and car owner they

checked out the previous day.  A big man who wouldn't have

been easy to overpower.

 

My friend thinks that who the victim was didn't matter

to the killers.

Tim Bosma with his tiny baby, heart breakingly eloquent

wife and frantic family was just unlucky.

 

He thinks the killers wanted to frame Millard and send

a message to others who do whatever nasty business it is

that Millard was doing.

 

He also thinks they might be back in Russia by now.

 

I don't know how close he is to the truth and it will be a

long time before we find out.

 

But I will tell you that I am now open to discussions on

re-instating the death penalty.

 

And that is something I never thought I would write.

***

Related articles

• Man formally charged with murder in Bosma's death
• Suspect in Tim Bosma case to face 1st-degree murder charge: police
• More suspects sought in Tim Bosma's death: police

What a Nightmare!

Dentist on the Job (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Two big horror shows on TV this week.

Skipping quickly over the nightmare game

between the Leafs and the Bruins yesterday,

Sunday's final episode of "Survivor"

was right up there with the "Exorcist" in

my opinion.

Holy ker-schmoley, when Dawn took her

teeth out I thought I wouldn't sleep for a

week!

 

But it did get me thinking about my own

choppers.

 

When I was a kid my dentist's name

was Doctor Coffin and he lived in a

haunted house. 

 He used to keep my whole family

spell bound with stories about how

he and his wife found their good

silverware spread out neatly across

their attic floor every morning.

I have no idea why he went to his attic

every morning or even why we all piled

in the car and visited him.

We didn't have good silverware nor

even an attic where any self-respecting

ghost would want to hang out.

He must have been a better conversationalist

than he was dentist.

 

And no friends in his own social class.

 

Anyway.

 

My next dentist was "Painless Pearson".

 

I liked him because he really was painless!

 

Incompetent, but painless.

"Oops!" he said one day during a root canal.

 

He rattled around in my mouth a bit longer.

My blood pressure went up when I saw

his assistant's eyes widened in alarm.

"But look - I've patched it up!" he said

waving a hand mirror in front of my face.

 

"Fanks,"  I said all drooley as I studied

the hollow tooth standing bare naked in

the middle of the rubber dam in my

mouth.

 

"Di int hurd a bid."

 

Jeesh.

 

It hurt my wallet.

And I didn't get any free mint flavoured

waxed dental floss either!

What a nightmare!

Maybe I should have written about the Leafs after all ...

No Awards Please, I'm Curmudgeonly

Street Sign for Bloor Street West, near St George Station (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have to come clean about this award thing.

 You know - the blogger awards.

 

The truth is that I don't like them.

 

But because I am a female Canadian of a certain

age my response, (on the odd occasion when someone

actually gives me one), is usually

 

"How lovely."

 

But, (and I hate to say this), that's not how I really feel.

Usually they cause me a great deal of anxiety.

Heck, one of the last ones I got the giver doesn't

even read my blog.

She just reads my comments on HER blog.

 

Jeesh!

 

Anyway.

 

When I first heard about a blogger award

the winner had to pass it on to one person. 

And that wasn't too bad.

 

Now it is up to seven and I think you have to include

a video of yourself selling your first born child on the corner

of Yonge and Bloor in downtown Toronto.

 It is beginning to feel like those high school chain

letters that start out by saying, "You will die in three

days if you don't pass this onto 376,257 of your friends."

My point is... well, it probably doesn't matter what my

point is. 

 

I doubt if anybody is still reading. 

Except maybe Doug, my first blogger buddy.

 

Anyway.

 

I've burnt my bridges,

managed to offend everyone in one swell foop.

 

I'll be drummed out of my circles and  

stripped of my blogger epaulets.

 

My virtual goose is cooked.

 

But the relief of having finally said it

is enormous!!

 

Whew!

 

P.S.  But I'm always pleased when my buddies get an award!

Just think of me as the neurotic sitting in the corner, eating the

serviettes.