Beirut or Bust

In these last few days prior to departure, I find myself overwhelmed trying to address Christmas obligations while fretting over details regarding my upcoming journey. It has created a perfect storm  that has left me like a bunny in my own headlights.

If you want to find out how much of a control freak you are a good place to start is to plan a trip like this by yourself. Apparently, my control freakiness knows no bounds

I have researched every aspect of Turkey and Syria that I reasonably can, but my little foray into Beirut remains understudied, an ill considered dessert order after a spectacular meal.

However, I have been watching the news..................

I thought that this comment from afz at the Thorntree forum summed it up best. It seems to me that the violence in Beirut is either turned up to "11" or it is off.

In general it's perfectly safe for tourists, with the caveat that massive communal violence and/or aerial bombardment can break out with no notice at any moment. The Lebanese are generally very friendly, but they're all convinced, as they have been continuously for most of the last millennium, that catastrophe is imminent (and they're usually right). Barring war however, you'll have no worries. Street crime and personal attacks against tourists are both far less common than in Europe or the United States.

In The Beginning......

Image via WikipediaThe first chapter of Murder On The Orient Express does not begin on the Orient Express, it begins on the platform of the train Station in Aleppo, Syria.

And a lot of other things begin in Syria. Both Damascus and Aleppo lay claim to being the oldest continuously occupied city's in the history of humankind Let others flock to Italy or Greece or Egypt on their overpriced and generic tours, I'm putting my faith in Syria.

Istanbul is re-emerging as one of the great cities on the planet. Historically, Istanbul has always been a crossroads, a place where civilizations meet. In an increasingly globalized world Istanbul remains the conduit through which all history must pass, and the true interpreter of a global era.

Either way, I am nervous and excited.

I will try and keep you posted along the way, but many of the countries that I plan to visit block Twitter, Blogger,Facebook and Youtube.

30 Years And One Hour Ago

I can't exactly remember the weather that night, what we had for dinner or who was playing on Monday Night Football. My parents were recently divorced, and I was living with my father. We made a tradition out of watching MNF together after dinner.

And so it was on this fateful Monday that me and the old man made dinner and cleaned up and settled in to watch one of the most boring games ever staged in the history of the NFL. It was so boring that I retreated to my room early in the second half, and turned the radio on, something I had never done before.

Then the reports started coming in. In those days television was slower than radio. There was no CNN, no net, no nothing. If you wanted live news, you listened to the radio, and for much of the world, the radio is still it.

With my dial tuned to CFOX fm99 (The Fox Rocks!), the news began to trickle in. "We are getting reports that John Lennon has been shot in New York City".

At first, I thought that Lennon was some out of control rock star, given that he had been involved in many antics during his time in Los Angeles, and that his political beliefs had left him marginalised. I imagined him being grazed by a bullet at a cocktail party hosted by Andy Warhol and attended by Phil Spector.

As I lay in my room trying to comprehend, my father was a few feet away, watching this...



And I was hearing fragments of this on the radio.....



As I walked out of my room, I was shocked to see that my father was ashen. I said "did you hear?" He said "yeah, they just announced it".

John Lennon was just a man, but the idealism expressed through his music represents the highest aspirations of the human condition, and that is why we love him. He challenged humanity to be better, and was willing to admit that he didn't always practice what he preached.

And three decades on, I still miss the shit disturbing SOB.



http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Why I Love John Lennon

We are going to hear a great deal about John Lennon this week, and many tears will be shed about his unfortunate demise.

My main reason for my undying respect for Mr. Lennon is the fact that he was a man of principal. This film played at TIFF a few years ago, and is well worth a look. If you like the trailer, you can watch the whole thing here. Click on the link at the lower left.

.

Happy Xmas!

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

WTF? Leaks Are Good, You Idiots!

When I was eight years old, I used to get mad with the television after school. It was 1973 and I was aghast at the fact that the local stations from Seattle had the temerity to show the Watergate hearings, thus pre-emptee Brady Bunch and my precious Gilligan's Island (btw its Mary Ann uber alles)

On an evening in 1974 my parents and I had dinner in front of the television. The rarity of this event was the fact that it was at my parents behest. Usually it was me and my older brother begging to have dinner in front of the TV from the PST so we could watch Ken Dryden and Guy Lafleur et al crush our underdog instincts so magnificently year after year.

But that night was different as we sat at our TV tables in the rec room . I wasn't watching a hockey game, I was watching Richard Nixon resign as president.

He resigned because of leaks that shone a light on the darkest corners of his humanity, which rightfully led to his resignation.

Woodward and Bernstein were celebrated for making that happen, the finest journalism a generation could offer. Daniel Ellsberg, who leaked the Pentagon Papers, which revealed the secret bombings of Cambodia, is also regarded highly.

Fast forward to 2010 and the slow rising tide of fascism. Apparently journalism is dead and anyone of you bleak, dreary, brain dead losers that pass yourself as members of the press will be given the compliance award so long as you keep your mouth shut.

Wikileaks is doing the world a great service. What shocks me is the obedience of the populace in supposedly "free democratic countries" to accept the idea that we are not worthy of listening in on the communications of those in power.

So much for that "All Men Are Created Equal" garbage, with apologies to the ladies. The real message here is that most people agree with the idea that people like you and me have no business knowing what those in charge are thinking.

Fuck them, fuck that and fuck you if you agree.

That is how we end up in a twisted world where people openly advocate for the murder of the last journalist left in this century. Hello and goodbye Julian Assange.

And when I set up my TV dinner in front of my computer to watch the story of Mr. Assange and his death,I will mostly think of how an age has passed when whistleblowers could bring down kings, while lamenting the compliance of a current time.

The real message of Mr. Assange and his upcoming demise is about the widespread acceptance of the idea that we have no business knowing what our "betters" are thinking or doing. In a "free society", these are the sorts of things that citizens have a right to know.

If only we lived in a free society.

Shame on us, our compliance, and our complicity.

Heil!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julian_Assange

http://www.goyestoevrything.com

Device-ive

I guess its better than banging junk, but the scope of the usage far outweighs the heroin problem.

WTF is wrong with you people? Are you so bereft of the ability to comprehend that a beautiful reality is happening around you right now in HiDef that you have to hide inside some digitally created falsehood that you long to call your life?

I don't care what you posted on Facebook, I don't care about your latest Tweet, and I don't even care if you care to read this post.

But I know you. I see you every day. And I do care about you.

So let me say this to you.

Real life is happening out there.

It is not happening in here, no matter what they try to tell you.

So stop reading this blog, De-Facebook and Un-Tweet.

And go fly a kite.

I mean that seriously. Go fly a kite, it will make you a great deal more happy than sharing your opinion about the latest Mad Men episode or Lady GaGa vid.

Better yet, go fly a kite with a friend.

Either way, each and every one of you should go fly a kite.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Happy Turkey Day!

First of all Happy Thanksgiving Day to my American friends. But that is not quite what I meant by the headline. As of yesterday, I leave for Turkey in three weeks.

At least I hope to fly in to Istanbul. As of this writing my passport is in the hands of the Syrian government while I await the results of my visa application. I'm pretty sure that I will get my passport back, I'm a little less sure that my visa application will be accepted.

A Syrian visa application asks you to list a reference in Syria. It also states that the application must be filled out in full. It also asks you if you have ever been to "occupied Palestine". In most Arab countries, if you have an Israeli stamp on your passport you will be denied entry.

Also something that I have never encountered before on a visa application is a request for entry and exit points. I could not find the exact name of my border crossing from Antakya, Turkey to Aleppo, Syria, so I put down the route.

Even better, I did manage to figure out the name of my exit point from Syria to Lebanon: Mansaa. I was able to confirm this because a Lebanese soldier was shot there in a drive by shooting the other day.

And now on to Lebanon, where things get even better, with a big nod to Ironyman. Thanks to a rare fit of actual journalism, Lebanon "is on a knife edge", a "storm is brewing" and apparently the "country is holding its breath" as it awaits a UN report that indicts Hezbollah on the Hariri assasination.

Ironically, it is my own government sponsored news agency that released this story that set off a firestorm in the Middle East. It is a fine piece of journalism, even if it makes my itinerary problematic.

All I know at this point is that if I get my passport back, I will be landing in Istanbul on December 16th; and if I don't get my passport back, I won't.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Suddenly 1994

Personally, I blame Pat Burns. I was already feeling very sad about the passing of the former Habs/Leafs/Bruins/Devils coach. I never met the man, but dang it, I liked the guy and his death sent me in to a fit of melancholy out of all proportion.

But apparently I did not understand the lesson, at first.

And thus it was that an envelope was proffered as I tended the bar. It had been kindly left by my ex wife, and contained photos of bygone days filled with bygone people.

Perfect, more melancholy, but then the lesson.

I wasn't mourning the loss of Pat Burns, I was mourning the loss of a time and a place in my own life. Mourning the fact that sometimes things don't work out as we planned, that we lose loved ones along the way, and that time is littered with squandered opportunities.

Partially I was mourning the fact that it is not 1994 anymore, but at the core of my lament, I was mourning the fact that with experience comes the forlorn ability to see the ever shrinking road ahead and to know it in the fullness of its own relentlessness.

Plus that was a total high stick by Gretzky on Gilmour in game seven.

Right coach?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Which Tribe, What Hate?

Before I start my rant, you should read the following link. Obviously this is a tragic story, and a decent man had his life taken away by an odious action in the heat of the moment by an unrepentant thug. His conduct is indefensible and if his sentence was doubled, I would not shed a single tear.

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/british-columbia/vancouver-gay-bashing-ruled-a-hate-crime/article1790162/

Nonetheless, I am horrified by a lot of comments regarding this story on major Canadian websites. Many of these comments pertaain to the fact that this "straight" man had no business being in a "gay" bar.


Jew, dyke, Muslim, fag, Christian, people of colour, LGBT or whatever stupid tribalism that you choose to subscribe to does nothing but divide humanity from itself and the comments regarding this heinous crime only served to divide us.

If a "straight" (yeah obviously the perp has issues) man has no business in a gay bar, then a "gay" man has no business in a straight bar? It is this kind of stupid tribalism that separates us from each other.

It has been said that the only people who can stop radical Muslims are moderate Muslims. I would say the same for the Gay community.

Last night as I sat in the office I watched two men avail themselves of the ladies washroom. They disappeared for at least five minutes. What they were doing, I know not.

But I do know that within a minute or two after they left, a young mother took her young daughter to the same bathroom.

Equality is a two way street.

Let us all wave our flags and pretend that our cheap tribalism is somehow a step forward.

Respect is earned, and not entitled.

I'm just happy that the adorable little girl was not subjected to what these two aging degenerate desperadoes might have been doing in the women's washroom.

Then again, to complain about such behaviour could lead me to the front of a Human Rights Commission.

And those in the "community" turn a blind eye to the conduct to a level that would make the Catholic Church blush.

We can bash priests, but fags are sacred.

It is well past the time that the LGBT community started policing itself. Sadly, petty tribalism will prevent this from happening, as the "community" looks away.

Surely, decency should enter the equation at some point, or is there some acceptance within 'the community" that a five year old girl going to the bathroom should be subjected to witnessing whatever it is that two fat aging desperate bears might be getting up to?

But hey, I'm a straight guy, so it is not really my business if two men want to go to a womens washroom within seconds of a five year old girl. To suggest otherwise might be perceived as a hate crime.

I care not about you, your perferences, your genitalia, or your beliefs. If two people love each other, then I care not one wit about whatever equipment they may have been born with. Nor do I care about anyones proclivities, other than my own and the person that I share my bed with.

But I do care about about that five year old girl and her right to be taken to the bathroom by her mother unfettered.

While I agree with Mr. Trudeau and his sentiment that "The state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation", I am equally certain that bartenders and bar owners have every right to know what is going in their washrooms.

Make no mistake, your blind willingness to subscribe to your tribe is the epitome of a step backwards that is only eclipsed by an ignorant willingness to accept unacceptable conduct based on sexual preference.

And this is a source of Pride?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Vehicle Owner

I actually meant to buy a bicycle, but I ended up owning a vehicle. But I am jumping ahead a bit here, and let this be a cautionary tale about wandering the internet unguided.

I cannot recall why I initially thought about exploring the idea of owning an ebike, but in hindsight I blame Hanoi.

By the time I reached Hanoi, I was starved for conversation. So I flagged a moto in the Old Quarter, hopped on board and off we went. My destination was a British style pub, a few blocks from my hotel.

After a few meters, I realised the thing uopon which I had hopped was electric.

Very cool and very slow on the hill. Mind you, we were carrying over 300lbs on an ebike with a maximum capacity of 250 lbs.

As the driver dropped me off, I looked at his ride and registered something. Something that rose to the surface about ten days ago. So now I own one of these

I didn't just buy an ebike, I bought the Cadillac Escalade of this genre.

Originally I deluded myself into thinking that I could drag this pig up the stairs, but I soon realised my quaint notions of a utopian bicycle would fade quickly, like Egorillas in the mist. The law classifies my vehicle as a bicycle, but it is a bicycle in name only.

And the Talking Head lyric "watch out, you might get what you're after" has been playing in my head for days.

And so it is that I did get what I'm after, and what I'm after does not require insurance, can be parked on a sidewalk, and driven in a bike lane.

An ebike is also universally hated by the police, motorists, and those lycra spandex clad traffic law breaking moralists known as the urban pedal set.

Throwing in the nonplussed reaction from a few friends only serves to cement the fact that I'm on the right track. Some people like change, but most people don't. Real change threatens deeply held beliefs.

Sure finding parking/storage is a problem, but it is a problem I solved. And with fuel costs under $50 per year, the lure of an ebike is hard to resist. Make no mistake, you will see more and more of these vehicles on the streets of Toronto and around the world.

So I'm gonna proudly drive my ebike around town come spring, and if you bleak dreary auto addicts don't like it, then too bad. And ditto for the lycra crowd.

I've seen the future of personal urban transport, and if you haven't, then that is your problem.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Iromyman Strikes Again!

I used to follow politics with a passion, but now I just follow with a resigned amusement.

A long time ago I accepted the fact I am better off focusing on something more important than what the government of the day is doing.

Lets face it, politics just makes most people angry. It is a rare day indeed that I hear someone say "wow, the government is awesome, and they just did a great thing".

But I tend to disagree, government actually does do a lot of things right every day. We just don't hear about it.

Despite my disgust with the process, I still allow myself to be amused.

It appears that Torontonians are about to elect Rob Ford as their representative. I am not the least bit surprised. I realised a long time ago that most people are stupid, I am just surprised that it took so long for the stupid to get organised. Then again......

The people of Calgary, Alberta just elected a new mayor

You know, that gun loving government hating bastion of land raping big oil interests.

And the dude they elected? An academic Muslim prof who lives with his mother.

Meanwhile, back in Toronto the electorate is poised to vote in a neocon whose rhetoric is more Calgary than Toronto.

Thank you, Ironyman.

I love it everytime you stop by.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Exhibit A, Your Honour

What can I say, Ive had enough, I don't give a good goddamn if this post ends up beimg introduced as evidence at my trial. I have a clean sheet, and lets face it, it is not like I live in Texas.

I am tired of being demoralised by these slings and arrows.

I don't care anymore, and when the police ask me how it is that a young patron in my bar became comatose as they point out the shattered glass patio table, when they inquire about the corpse in the alley who had his eyes gouged out by a corkscrew or the homeless guy who woke up on fire, I will tell them everything.

That motherfucker thought that smashing glass all over our patio was really funny.

The guy in the alley threatened to kick my head in, while showing the deepest disrespect for a female colleague.

And the homeless guy who woke up on fire is a petty criminal who is responsible for dozens, if not hundreds, of petty crimes in my neighbourhood.

I'm just saying, someone is gonna get it at some point in some way.

I am tired of taking the shit, it is time to dish some out.

Any takers?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Cranky Old Man

Hey, maybe it is just me. I am getting older. Perhaps I am a tad crankier than I used to be, but it seems to me that this world is getting exponentially dumber every second. Even the most basic ritual of human consumption has been perverted into some "me first" activity.

I was brought up in a family where I was taught that people shared food together. I'm not saying that it was foie gras and lobster every night, but if we were all home together, we ate together.

As kids, my brother and I had to beg my mom to let us have dinner in front of the television to watch the NHL playoffs. Permission was not always granted.

Dining was important in my family, and as I became a little older my parents would take me out to restaurants. Nice restaurants. It was implied that I would use my best manners, and I think for the most part I did.

Sharing food together was sacrosanct, something a family or community does together. You know, breaking bread?

I know that I work in a bar with no pretense to being a fine dining establishment, but manners should be universal regardless of environment.

And tonight was a perfect example of something that has been stuck in my craw for a long, long time.

A young couple walk in and sit in the back. Once they are settled, I head over. The lady excuses herself to go to the powder room before I can get her order. No biggie, I ask the dude if he wants a drink. He orders for himself and the young lady.

Thats cool.

Now make no mistake, this is a nice twenty something couple. They are both polite and they are exactly the kind of people that I enjoy serving, and I hope they come back.

But here is where my bile begins to flare. I ask if they want a menu and the gentleman asks for one for the lady and then proceeds to order food for himself. I hold the chit for a few minutes, but eventually am forced to submit it in the name of expediency.

A moment later the lady decides to order.

Their food comes up at different times, and neither one cares. And I see this all the time.

I don't know if they were a couple, they may have been brother and sister.But I do know that
when I went out with anybody in any size group we ordered and ate together. To do otherwise was considered rude. I guess people don't dine together, the just have to get their "Eat On".

Eating is now reduced to a level of filling up your sport ute with gas. For the masses in North America, food is nothing but fuel, and that is a very sad fact.

I deeply worry about a society that doesen't care to dine with one another.

Are we so caught up in our own needs that we cannot wait four minutes for our friend to decide, so that we may share this bounty that sustains us together?

What the fuck is wrong with you people?

Sharing food together is a sacred ritual that transcends humanity.

Sigh.

Maybe I am a cranky old man.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Nicole

Sometimes the only choice is to throw a dart at the moon. When there is nothing left but hope, we have no choice but to hope.

For me the big part of a journey is researching the country. Lately I have been reading a lot about Syria, and by all accounts (almost) Syria is a safe place. Resoundingly, those who have been there, praise the hospitality of the Syrian people en masse.

I remember Nicole. She was featured on The National and on media throughout the country. She went missing in 2007. In Hama, Syria.

http://www.cbc.ca/canada/story/2007/05/23/nicole-search.html

Sadly, this story is over three years old. The family of Nicole have exhausted everything in their search.

Matt has a blog here Please disregard the comments.

This site offers a clinical approach.

Matt was kind enough to reply to my email, and he gave me some good advice. I cannot imagine the pain of his family.

The truth is that this blog post has a better chance of finding a lead than my trip does. So if you know someone in Syria who knows some one who knows a guy who knows some one could you please ask about Nicole?

Nonetheless, I will be in Hama and my eyes and ears will be open.

Not only is Nicole a fellow Canadian, she is also a fellow traveler.

And sometimes the only play you have is to throw a dart at the moon.

Please forward this in the hope that someone who knows something may see it and to help keep the search for Nicole alive.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Giving Thanks

Sometimes we have a moment of crisis that serves to illuminate to ourselves how much we love each other and how fragile our presence on this planet is.

Many of our fellow humans have moved on from this mortal coil for the most trivial of reasons.

Wrong place, wrong time.

I visited the World Trade Center, I cruised on The Queen of The North, and I took this bus trip in Ghana, and nothing ever happened to me.

And so it was tonight at work. A few minutes earlier it could have been me. A few minutes later it could have been a dear friend. But it wasn't, and no one was hurt. Just like The World Trade Center, The Queen of The North and that bus ride in Ghana.

Canadian Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday. It embodies the nobility of Christmas without the mindless consumption, or the marketed guilt of mindless giving.

With each passing year I find more and more reasons to be grateful, but this year is especially poignant. I am thankful that no one else was sitting in the office on Saturday night when the meth head broke in with his crowbar; as for myself I feel a little shortchanged.

Call me sick, but it would have made for a great funeral. I could have died as a perfect victim, an unimpeachable martyr, some noble working class hero that might have had his pre crushed in skull displayed on the front page of the Toronto Sun.

If only I had gone for that smoke five minutes later.

I'm telling you, I cannot catch a break.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving, or whatever, I guess.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Didn't anybody see?

Just one last word on why I quit Facebook. I'll let the music do my talking, and then I am going to shut up about Facebook forever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFddsWq2pDw&p=ADA9DBA42055D742&playnext=1&index=45

The Corporati

My first "real" post KFC restaurant gig was bussing tables during lunches at a trendy Vancouver eatery in the very very early 1980's. The restaurant was in the heart of the business district, so our clientele tended to the corporate.

I even cleared the plate of a sitting Prime Minister on the campaign trail.

Back in those days, the culture was more "Mad Men" than the antisocial deadeyed vortex of expensive bleakness that could all disappear in the blink of a stock decline. The expense account was king, the writeoffs numerous and unquestioned and things were only going to get better and better.

There was no global warming, terrorism was a car bomb going off in some place you'd never heard of, and stopping pollution meant throwing your garbage in the bin.

In the late 90's I found myself in Toronto, again serving lunches to those who had put all their eggs in the corporate basket. Gone were the expense accounts for the average, and their seemed to be a lot of talk about "groups" and "teams".

Gone were the easy pensions, the free golf club memberships, and the generous mileage allowances. Mostly it was replaced by the desperate eyes of people who knew that their fake little house of cards could disappear in a blink.

And all these years later, nothing has changed, though it is just more blatant. And accepted. Your corporate master exists only to please shareholders and provide outrageous rewards to the elites within for pleasing the shareholders.

Sadly, every loser with a cubicle and a nametag thinks that they can be Conrad Black, but I'm telling you, "it ain't necessarily so".

Tonight we had a crew from some brainwashing seminar come in, the tail end of some pathetic attempt to rally Nuremburg that ends with a lost key to an Econolodge room. When I see groups like this I think we should stock Kool Aid. Then I laugh to my self, realising that they gulped it down long ago.

Retirement? Stocks? Golf Club memberships? Not my scene.

Yeah, I may not have much in this world, I may be angry, and I may be fucked up, but I am going to live my life now.

Yes, I may drop dead when I'm sixty five (probably a best case scenario), but as you see the garbage truck lift my lifeless body in some Orwellian recycle bin that will crush me down to Soylent Green pull away into the distance I would hope that you would think to yourself " well, at least he lived his life a bit".

And I would hope to be able to say the same about you.

I would also hope that you would secretly wish that you could taste a little bit of me after I was turned into Soylent Green, but that is a whole 'nother post.

OK, now I am freaking myself out.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Ride -Zilla

Planning a trip is sort of like arranging a wedding. Buying a ticket is like popping the question, except when you buy a ticket, the answer is always yes.

After you buy that ticket, the roller coaster ride begins.

If you book a tour, it is like hiring a wedding planner. All you have to do is show up in your finest frock at the appointed time and let the carriage take you away.

Or you can just figure it out by yourself, which is more like eloping. Unlike a real life marriage ceremony, eloping is more expensive. Detailed planning may increase the cost of a wedding, but it decreases the cost of travel.

The best trip is planned by the Ying and executed by the Yang. Know where you are going, what you're doing, and how to get there; and be prepared to change everything at the last minute.

But just like a wedding, the devil is in the details. Planning a solo trip to places unfamiliar can be at once inspiring, daunting and frightening.

At the bottom end of the spectrum one can feel small, demoralized and defeated. And did I mention, frightened?

What if this happens? What if that happens? Why am I doing this? Each question is a natural extension of a common human fear.

Fear of the unknown.

At the top end of the spectrum I envision sitting alone among transcendent ruins that are the genesis of our humanity as the sun sets over an empty Syrian desert. I imagine the bustle of great markets, and hear the call to the mosque.

And I also laugh at the great irony of a quiet non believer like myself going to some of the most holy and timeless places on the planet. Places where faith began.

People have faith in all sorts of things. I put my faith in people, and I travel to prove that my faith is well placed. So far, humanity has a perfect track record.

And yet again, I find myself on bended knee, asking Syria if she will accept my hand. I'll let you know her answer in a few months, but to be honest, I also plan to see Turkey and Lebanon on the side.

My planned route map can be found here.

Godspeed.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

The Problem With Populist Politics

This quote made me think about the Toronto mayoral race and the recent quote disparaging "Toronto Elites" by cabinet minister John Baird.

"What is so unnerving about the candidacy of Sarah Palin is the degree to which she represents—and her supporters celebrate—the joyful marriage of confidence and ignorance . . . Ask yourself: how has "elitism" become a bad word in American politics? There is simply no other walk of life in which extraordinary talent and rigorous training are denigrated. We want elite pilots to fly our planes, elite troops to undertake our most critical missions, elite athletes to represent us in competition and elite scientists to devote the most productive years of their lives to curing our diseases. And yet, when it comes time to vest people with even greater responsibilities, we consider it a virtue to shun any and all standards of excellence. When it comes to choosing the people whose thoughts and actions will decide the fates of millions, then we suddenly want someone just like us, someone fit to have a beer with, someone down-to-earth—in fact, almost anyone, provided that he or she doesn't seem too intelligent or well educated."

— Sam Harris

If you care to read more quotes from the compelling Mr. Harris, click here.

Or you can watch this.



http://www.goyestoeverything.com

F**K "The Homeless"

I live deep in the heart of an urban environment and I have lived in this neighbourhood for two decades. When I first moved to this street in the late 1980's, there was nary a panhandler in sight, nobody was sleeping on the street, and I could walk the streets unfettered.

These days not so much. We have become inundated with people who imply that they are homeless by begging on the street. On my street. By my own unscientific estimation, about 90% of the people in Toronto who panhandle are not homeless.

God bless us, we do have good hearts and most of us have deep compassion for one another. However, we have made a grave error in assuming that every person begging on the streets is in dire need of immediate help. In Toronto, it is patently untrue and I am sure the same is true throughout North America and Europe.

I am not against giving people money, but the majority of the money that I give goes to individuals and organisations that use my small contributions to help improve lives. When did our collective liberal bullshit coalesce to a point where we give some non homeless crack addict in front of a liquor store that is already getting free housing and a free pass every month our change?

Make no mistake, I am a proud Canadian, and I am proud to contribute to our welfare system. In dark moments in my own life, I have availed myself of the system, and I support the idea that our privileged society helps those in short term need, the truly troubled among us, and that all children of single parents should be aggressively supported. It is cheaper to educate someone than it is to imprison them.

Begging is not exclusive to Canada. I have seen it in Asia and Africa. The thing is that the people who panhandled me during my travels on those continents tended to be amputees. And elderly. No medical system, no welfare system. Truly, these poor souls were on their own, with no other option.

I walked by parents scrounging through garbage bags as their toddler children slept in a nearby doorway. They didn't ask me for money.

One night in Cambodia a girl of not more than six asked me for money using an empty baby bottle as a prop in one hand. In her other arm was an infant child.

It is an image among many that I will never forget. Sure I gave a little bit of money. Yes, I was being played, but just because I was being played does not mean that the need was not genuine. Take a moment to understand the level of human indignity, the depth of need that could cause a parent to send their children into the street begging for money. And the cultural shame that goes with begging in most of the world.

For some reason, the culture in which I live does not heap shame on begging.

Actually, I know the reason. Begging has become big business. A lot of very cushy jobs in government and the "charity" industry depend upon creating the illusion that begging is a result of some economic crisis.

The truth is rampant begging in urban streets is a result of shortsighted bleeding hearts trying to reconcile the fact that deep down in their hearts, they know that a lot of what we have is the result of destroying the lives of others and denying the same opportunity to others. The sad thing is that a bunch of con artists have moved in to fill the void.

Even sadder is the fact that people equate giving the crackhead a looney with helping the world.

Then again, I suppose it is easier than actually doing anything.

Everyday in Toronto, I am panhandled by able bodied adults. Not once did I encounter this phenomena in Asia and Africa.

As a Canadian, I am embarrassed by this state of affairs.

I guess some societies take pride in themselves and prize dignity above all.

And some don't.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Wow, We Really Are Truly Powerless

What the fuck is wrong with people? Have we so disempowered ourselves and relinquished control of our lives to others that we are incapable of dealing with the most basic of problems without calling our Mommy and or Daddy to bail us out?

To wit, I submit my experience last Sunday.

Now, I will be the first to admit that I keep weird hours, but I woke up so late last Sunday that I weirded myself out. When I saw the time, I let out a gasp. Nonetheless, duty called, and one must deal with the ramifications of one's own debauchery..

So I get up, throw the coffee on and jump towards the shower. I throw on the hot water and wait for the warmth. And wait. And wait. And wait.

It never comes, and I stand there like a naked Charlie Brown waiting for Lucy to bring the football back. Perfect. I grit my teeth and stand in a shower that is cold enough to make Costanza and his swim in the pool seem like a hot tub.

Luckily enough for me, I'm not getting any so it doesn't really matter.

However, I am pretty addicted to ready access to hot water, so while I am prepared to deal with this problem in the "short" term, the "long" term prospects are frightening.

I live above a bar, and I know the hot water is in the basement, but I am dealing with major shrinkage, sucking back coffee and launching a failed attempt to show up at work trying to look like a well adjusted human being. I pride myself on being objective and I know that all hope of maintaining my self created illusions are slipping away.

So I head downstairs to the busy bar, shrunken schlong in tow. I ask them to check the breakers, mention that I'm off to work, and there is no rush. The bar is busy, and the prospect of my living in a future state of permanent shrinkage is not a high priority. I can respect that.

So it comes as little surprise that nothing has been done when I return from my shift. However, my downstairs neighbours are nice people, and they let me down to their basement to look at the breakers.

And Jiminy Crickets, ya know what, one of those breakers had flipped over! Gollllleeeee that seems to be a huge problem for some people. Say what you will about Redneck Cleetus and his toothless existence, he at least would have known to flip the breaker.

I thank God I remember that "One of these things is not like the other" thing from Sesame Street. I flip the switch over, the water warms up.

But your average useless Torontonian cries help at the first sign of adversity. Which is why my landlord called the next morning about this "emergency". Apparently my neighbours first reaction was to call my landlord. My first reaction was to try and fix the problem, or at least find out why there was a problem.

I like my landlords. They are actually very nice people, but the panic button should never be the first choice. The next thing I know I get an email requesting detailed information about what I did.

Apparently Hydro workers are now involved, and they are claiming that they fixed the problem.

I'm no handyman, and I don't claim to be one, but I am capable of at least looking into a problem without requiring permission to do so. And yes, when I see a row of circuit breaker switches all leaning to the left, but for one, I think I know whats going on.

But no, my neighbours have to email my landlord in a panic and my landlord must call in an electrician.

ITS A FUCKING CIRCUIT BREAKER.

Helplessness is one thing, uselessness is quite another.

Even I know that.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Sacred Cows

It is to laugh.

Over the last few days I have received more email about a Facebook post that I didn't even post on Facebook than any other post.

I guess people don't like it when you ridicule their sacred cows, but I stand behind my point. Most people on Facebook are there to glorify themselves. Too many cooks, not enough dishwashers. Everyone talking, nobody listening.

- The level of content has a reductionist quality that quietly reduces our humanity to the point that we are all little more than digital "its", our communication limited by the falsely imposed constraints. If Facebook is the beginning, then the final vision is even dumber. And that is a level of dumbness that I cannot conceive. Then again, maybe I'm stupid.

- Facebook is like being at a bad cocktail party where a bunch of people who never drink think that everything they exclaim is a profound revelation as they guzzle their third cosmo from the open bar, with nary a complete sentence in sight.

- 500,000,000 users my ass. Two thirds are fake, or is this your first time on the internet?

- These people are not your "Friends". Friends are precious things, acquired through time and experience and sharing. Facebook warps perception, whereby some are unable to distinguish between their real friends and the disposable Facebook type.

- Many people are on Facebook because they want something from you. And you are on Facebook because you want something from them. Money. Power. Approval. And don't give me that garbage about how great Facebook is for "communication". Email and blogging are better tools for communication. People use Facebook not to communicate, but to broadcast their communications. Communicating via Facebook is like trying to write a novel while skydiving. Facebook yields the level of discourse to the vacuousness of the clever. Concepts need not apply.

- The people that run this shit want something from you. Nice people like Mr. Zuckerberg do not provide services like Facebook for free because they care deeply. They want your information, and I don't care what your privacy settings are, they are taking it. You might want to read the privacy agreement that comes with your Facebook account.

- Google is now scanning Facebook. What this means is that once Google has your shit, it is there forever. This is common across the internet, the real change is the fact that Facebook exponentially increases the likelihood that someone else can post things about you that can be searched by Google. Tagged in a photo? Mentioned in a post? Unless you catch it quickly, it is up there permanently.

Think about it. How many of your "friends" have you spoken to on the phone? How many of your "friends" did you give a birthday gift to? What on earth are you trying to do?

Make no mistake, I'm not done with crapping on Facebook, but I'm aware that nothing will change until the next generation decides that Facebook is no longer cool. Until that happens I will be stomping on your sacred cow and ridiculing your participation in the worlds biggest cult until you figure out that you are being played.

So played.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Bye Facebook.

Yes, you are so vain, and your Facebook posts are living proof. And same here. Shame on both of us.



You know what? You're boring, your misconceptions about your own existence bore me, and the fact that you have created some delusion whereby you think what you post on Facebook is of any interest to anyone other than the fake little clique members that you cultivate is a whole 'nother level of boring.

Lets face it, Facebook is the biggest cult ever created, and chances are that you are an enthusiastic member. I know I was, and that I was probably way more boring than you.

I see a lot of people putting all their eggs in Facebook. I see people addicted to the superficial illusions of self glorification and those that think Facebook will make them rich.

But if you take a moment to examine the content that people post on Facebook, you will find a social environment that is very Grade 9. There are only three types of people on Facebook and you are one of them.

The Needy.
The Bully.
The Control Freak.

I'm all three, but I have better things to do. I'm very sorry that you don't.

Bye bye, Facebook.



Youre so vain, I'll bet you think this post is about you, don't you?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Knowing Better

Image by thaths via Flickr
On any given day, I see people trying to justify their perceived right to be angry about a myriad of pathetic trifles, including myself. My daily struggle involves taking personal responsibility for my anger, but my struggle rarely ends in victory. I whisper to myself that at least I recognize the struggle.


The majority around me do not.

Many years ago, I was struck by a quote from a film. For me the quote has become a mantra of sorts, as I pursue the path of self improvement. When I first heard those words they resonated like a lightning bolt, and I strive with varying success to embrace the concept.


"Blame is for idiots and small children".


After all, if I am not responsible for my own happiness, then who is?

The Pope? The Dalai Lama? George W. Bush? My Mother? My Boss? My Co-Workers? My Ex? Lady GaGa?


There is a great deal to be angry about in this world. In our global society, we have access to an unlimited amount of appalling circumstance, injustice, and outright degradation of the human experience at the click of a mouse.

The overarching lesson of my travels is a loss of respect for my fellow Canadians and myself. On my worst days it seems that we have everything and appreciate nothing. On better days, I see the inherent generosity and compassion in all of us.

The more I travel, the less sympathy I have for the petty and spoiled whining that envelopes the lives of most Canadians, including myself.


One night in Phnom Penh, Cambodia,  as I ate dinner on a patio, a man approached me, begging for money. He approached me like no other beggar. He had no legs and no mechanical assistance.

No wheelchair, no crutches, no prosthetic, no cane. He had to drag himself on the ground by his arms, begging for money.

I could go on. Children playing in piles of garbage, parents searching through piles of garbage as their children slept in the doorway of an office building.

Some things are worth being outraged about and some things aren't, and sometimes I find it difficult to reconcile the obscenities I have witnessed with the pettiness that surrounds me.


Even worse, I sometimes find myself  knee deep in my own pettiness.

Goddammit, I should know better.


http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Tax And Spend Liberals?

Tax and spend liberals. It is a phrase that I have heard uttered by every right wing politician at all levels of government for many decades.

I have a deep suspicion that the statistics do not bear this out, and each of the following statements are made based on consideration for the varying rates of the dollar over time, so that the reader can rest assured that relationships between time and place are given financial context.

Brian Mulroney increased the debt and deficit more than Pierre Trudeau.

Mr. Trudeau lowered the poverty rate and raised the rate of literacy in this country.

Under the tenure of Mr. Mulroney, these trends were reversed.

Jean Chretien and Paul Martin achieved record surpluses.

Stephen Harper has presided over the greatest increase of both debt and deficit in Canadian history.

For the moment, I am looking only at federal governments, and it is widely accepted that the best measure of economic health is the percentage of GDP (gross domestic product, a measure of all output by any given nation) versus its financial liabilities.

Right wing politics is simply selfishness disguised as ideology, and within this lie is an entrenched myth that right wing politicians are more proficient at managing our money.

They simply aren't and there is no statistical evidence to prove that right wing parties are more efficient at managing money than those on the left. In fact the evidence shows quite the opposite.

Thank you, Stephen Harper. 

Truly, perception does beat reality every time.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

The Portal

Image via WikipediaOver the last few weeks I have been having bouts of buyers remorse, asking myself why I purchased a ticket to Istanbul, with an intent to go to Damascus during the Christmas period.

My level of remorse peaked with notions that I could simply head in another direction from Istanbul, (after all, Istanbul is the crossroads of the world) and if I wanted to back the truck up all the way, I could simply inform British Airways that I would not be making my connecting flight from Heathrow to Ataturk.

But then I checked the mail. Thankfully, my October issue of National Geographic Traveler had arrived. Smack dab on the cover was a picture and a word: Istanbul.

Istanbul is the only city in the world that straddles two continents. To quote the article, "Istanbul is the most Western city in The East and the most Eastern city in The West."

It is a portal to another world, no matter what direction you come from.

I smile quietly as the thought occurs that perhaps my instincts are not so bad after all, and yet I am a little daunted by my reckless promises to myself, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Suddenly, I feel a whole lot better about my journey from Istanbul to Damascus

And as I research the trip, I realize that faith is going to play a big part. Throughout my travels I will be hearing the call to prayer at the mosques 5 times per day. I will be seeing biblical ruins and visiting places held sacred by Jews, Christians, and Muslims.

Part of the reason I booked this trip was to avoid the blind consumerism of a Toronto Christmas. Ironically, I will be spending my Christmas in a land where faith was born. It will be interesting to observe my godless self in such a devout environment.

But as an Atheist, I put my faith where it has always been.

I put my faith in humanity.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

In The Mode

Cover via Amazon"Its time to get 'In The Mode".

The first time I heard that phrase was from my friend and, at that time boss, The Centurion. I was a rookie fish monger in my mid twenties, unloading boats in northern British Columbia, and the declaration was terrifying.

"In the mode"  means you go until the job is done or you die. Those are the only two possible outcomes of being in the mode. You keep going no matter what.

The phrase has come to mind often, and I am grateful to have understood its meaning. It has steeled me for daunting tasks throughout my working life.

From the salmon fishery, to the restaurant biz and at The Toronto International Film Festival, I have often found myself "in the mode."

And so it is that I have been in the mode these last six weeks. In early July I saw a deep chasm of available shifts and I volunteered for them all.

I like to travel, but in order to travel funds are required, thusly I made a commitment to get in the mode yet again.

Six weeks of 50 hours per have worn me down a tad. My back is killing me, my legs feel like lead and my patience is razor thin.

And tonight I had my Ratso Rizzo moment. Just prior to last call things were blessedly subdued, so I snuck out to the bench  on the sidewalk in front of the bar  for a smoke and a moment of respite when my nose started bleeding out of the blue.

I thought of Dustin Hoffman on the bus in Midnight Cowboy, and half laughing recalled his line, "I'm fallin apaahht heaahhh".



That may well be, but I am in the mode and I'm almost done.

And the mode has only two outcomes.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Di - Vine - ity

Tonight Torontonians felt a little chill in the air, a minute signal that change is afoot. As I closed the outdoor area for the evening, I looked up at the magnificent grapevine that envelopes our patio each year, currently at its peak.

I consider the fact that I've known this vine longer than anybody who works here.

For many years I have watched it transition from Gothic stems in the depth of winter to little buds in early spring. My favourite time is early June when the poor thing is trying to get "laid". It drops little green seeds all over our patio at a frenzied and fruitless rate.

I particularly enjoy this time because a lot of people complain about green things in their beer. I usually shrug my shoulders, mention something about the miracle of nature, suggest keeping a coaster over your drinks, and laugh to myself.

This only lasts for a few weeks. Let the vine do its work, you'll thank it later.

At its epoch in late summer, it is a magnificent beast, acting as a green roof for our entire patio, and then a long slow recession back to chilled oblivion.

And maybe it is just me, but the damn thing seems to get more robust each year.

I wish I could say the same.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Loud Chewer!!! Waster!!!!

Recently in Canada a major fast food chain has been advertising a very spicy product and using the idea that this burger is so spicy it will make you angry. In the commercial, two friends eat the burger in question, and become short term enemies because of the spice. We hear their inner voices as they eat the burger, which makes them angry.

"Loud Chewer!" one thinks about the other.

"Waster!" thinks the other as a jalapeneo falls from his colleagues burger.

I pointed out the commercial to a fellow bartender, and whenever we are hopelessly busy behind the bar, I will turn to her and say in my best angry voice, "Loud chewer!".

Inevitably, she calls back "Waster!", with equal vehemence.

And in that moment we mock our internal dialogue, ourselves, and our stress.

I don't know what it means to her, but for me it is a subtle way to release some of the stress of the moment and a comment about what I'm thinking and what I'm projecting and the gap between the two.

We all have an internal dialogue and it is important that we listen to it. Disconnection between our experience and our perception is the root of a lot of problems in a world where outside forces are constantly trying to alter our perception, so they may define our experience.

If you want to define your own experience, you must listen closely to your inner dialogue.

And, until I figure that one out, you might be just another "loud chewer!".

But that is my problem, not yours.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Hope For A Better Life Has No Business In My Canada.

Image via Wikipedia
My Canada welcomes everyone. I'm a globalist, not a patriot.

http://www.cbc.ca/canada/story/2010/08/14/tamils-what-now.html

Tongue, meet cheek.

 I am appalled that we would even consider allowing people who are fleeing persecution into this country.  My family has been here for 112,000 years. According to my crazy dead uncle, it was my family that allowed the natives in to this country.


Heck if our grandparents had the unmitigated gall to turn back a boatload of Jews fleeing the Holocaust, it would be a disrespect to their memory to allow these people in.


I mean if we keep allowing people to arrive on our shores seeking a better way of life, where will it end? Just because my family did it, doesn't mean your family deserves the same right.

What do you think I am, some kind of immigrant?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com


(editors note) Further research shows that Mr. Stock and his family have not been residents of North America for 112,000 years, and that in fact Mr. Stock is indeed "some kind of immigrant". We're just not sure what kind.

Why Rob Ford Might Win

Image via Wikipedia
I'm a man who enjoys a simple life. I work part time in a local bar for a lovely lady. I live in a small apartment, I keep my financial commitments to a minimum and I try and put a little away each week so that I can pursue my dream of traveling to far off places.

My usual schedule is three shifts per week, and Saturday night is always a solid moneymaker. But not tonight. Tonight I saw the incompetence of a fat bloated system in action.

At 6:45 pm, a worker from the city came in and told us that the water in our bar was going to be shut down from 7:30 pm until 11:30 pm .

I mentioned that there is a law requiring 24 hours notice. I was told that there was an emergency. I understand emergencies, but this smells to high hell.

You see, I live on the same street, a five minute walk from my place of employment and on Tuesday I received a notice in my mail box that my water would be shut off on Thursday, August 12th, coincidentally for four hours.

I have watched the crew move down the street, towards my place of employment. There was no emergency, but several bars and restaurants were forced to close. On The Danforth. In the middle of summer. On a Saturday night.

The last time this happened, the health inspectors followed, and shut down everyone who stayed open. No water, no business.

But the most laughable thing of all was the fact that we were forced to close, and the water was never actually shut off. And we are not the only ones.

The high end joint across the street cancelled thirty five reservations. Our sales were 25% of what they were the previous Saturday.

Personally, I lost a solid Saturday night shift, or about 40%. of my average weekly income.
And for what? Nothing.

One worker on site expressed surprise, commenting that this work could be done overnight.

In my opinion the city owes me for lost wages and should compensate every business that was forced to close in this false debacle

With the city conducting its affairs with this level of competence, it is not difficult to understand why Mr. Ford is leading in the polls.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Five Other Musicians I Miss

The other night I had a conversation with a friend about the night John Lennon was shot and the shock of that moment. I remember the day that Elvis died. I was at Mike R's house with some buddies, screwing around. We all had a brief moment and then agreed that our parents would be upset, then we went back to screwing around.

And in hindsight, my sympathy level for Elvis falls in to the "Jim Morrison Category". You did it to yourself dude.

The following is my list of great musicians who left us too soon. Who do you miss?

1. Jimi Hendrix

Contrary to popular belief, Mr Hendrix does not belong in the Jim Morrison/ Elvis Category. He was a fine human being who changed the way that people thought about the electric guitar. He was being worked to death and wasn't being paid. He essentially died of exhaustion and medical incompetence and he never got anywhere near his unbounded potential. A very humble and decent man who I dearly miss. And still the greatest guitar player who ever walked the planet, IMHO.




2. George Harrison

While Mr. Harrison died in his mature period and was philisophical enough to come to terms with his demise, his presence is sorely missed by this writer. Also, I am firmly convinced that his solo work will outshine his fellow Beatles in the long run.



3. Peter Tosh

Yeah, we all know Bob Marley (another man who left us too soon), but did you ever wonder about who "The Wailers" were? Peter Tosh released an album in 1983 entitled Equal Rights, which I consider to be one of the finest albums ever made, reggae or otherwise. Sadly, he was gunned down in a robbery at his home in Jamaica on September 11th, 1987.



4. Joe Strummer

The leader of the seminal band The Clash, we lost Joe suddenly in December, 2002 of a congenital heart defect. A man who used his music to stand up for what he believed in, I am pretty sure that he would be mortified to look at the vacuous empty headed meaningless garbage that passes for musical art today. "Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls".



5. Otis Redding

Probably the most melancholy single ever released, this iconic tune went on to become the only number one ever achieved by the brilliant Otis Redding. Sadly, the song was recorded only days prior to his tragic death in a car accident that silenced the most passionate voice in the history of R + B. Mr. Redding was not present at the moment of his greatest commercial success.



How I wish, how I wish they were here.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

The Road To Damascus

The other day I had a conversation with someone that revealed something to me about myself regarding why I travel.

We were discussing my next trip and the thought occurred to me that I travel to prove to myself and others that the vast majority of my fellow human beings are the same as you and I.

So far, my theory has proven true in Cambodia, Belize, Ghana, Vietnam, Mexico,  Honduras, Thailand, Costa Rica, Canada, The Cayman Islands, and The United States.

While the sample is not complete, I do see a pattern that indicates that most of humanity is completely awesome.

I will be shocked if the people of the Middle East prove to be any less welcoming.

I truly believe that we are all brothers and sisters, and that the things that divide us are miniscule when compared with the things that unite us, and I look forward to spending Christmas in a predominately Muslim country that is tolerant of other religions

Damascus is the oldest continually inhabited city on the planet. Straight Street is the only street named in the bible that still exists.

While I am not a religious man, it is hard to ignore the significance of Damascus. Different religions living in harmony in the Middle East?

I'll support that, and I can't imagine a finer place to be on Christmas Day.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

GET THE F**K OUT NOW!

Image via Wikipedia

When I have a night off, I will sneak out after midnight to my local for a pint or two. (ahem) When last call comes I do not question the time, I pay my bill immediately and I vacate the premises before the bartender tells me to finish my drink.

Its called courtesy, respect, etiquette. It is something I learned from my Mom.

Oddly, I find it to be in short supply when I am behind the bar.

I work in a really nice little bar. I work with extraordinary people overseen by an exquisite lady. Our little joint is popular and for that I am truly grateful.

We stay open late, so we tend to get a little rush at last call. And make no mistake, 99.9% of our customers are awesome people, including those that I had to yell at tonight.

Maybe it is just me and my crankiness. I've worked a lot lately (my choice) and recently survived The Taste Of  The Danforth,  the largest neighbourhood festival in this country.

As I walked in tonight I had high hopes for a mellow affair, but the first dagger was a party of twenty booked in for 10pm on a Sunday night. (seriously, are you kidding me) The equally disgruntled Miss Jocund and myself managed to get through that.

I was granted permission to give last call a bit early, in the vain hope that this might clear the desperadoes. But it was not to be, and I can't tell you how much I enjoy begging people to finish their drinks night after night after night.

Even more fun is begging them to leave the premises twenty minutes after I have removed their drinks.

Night after night after night.

And just to top things off was the dork who climbed the fence to join his friends on the patio at 3 am Monday morning.

So let me give you people a little primer on how life works if I am giving you last call.

• There is only one last call. You may not run to the bar at 1:59:30 and order eight B52's. I gave you the opporunity, you didn't take it, now you can suck me off.
• When you get your bill pay it immediately. It would be nice if we could cash out.
• When I tell you that you have five minutes to finish, I mean it. Our liquor license is sacrosanct, and I do not relish the thought of telling my colleagues and my boss that the reason we have to close for a week is due to my negligence. And yes, the inspectors have pulled in at 3am.
• After your drink is removed at 2:45 am, you should vacate within five minutes. If you don't, you are a complete douchebag.

Get it? Got it? Good.

Are you people so bereft of ideas that you must cling on to hanging out in some bar until the last possible minute, night after night after night? Don't waste your breath, cos I already know the answer, and it saddens me.

Unfortunately, my mother didn't raise everybody.

I thank you so much  for your cooperation in this matter and  I look forward to serving you in the future. But right now I would appreciate it if you could show a modicum of respect for the business, the lady who owns it, and the staff who run it.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

I'm Mad As Hell, And....

Image by ppelisek via Flickr

A few years back, a lady I know was mercilessly beaten by a maniac for ten bucks. Actually, she wasn't beaten for ten bucks, she had already wisely surrendered her cash, and then she was beaten for not having more.

She is one of the finest people I know, and I was both shocked and shattered when told of this violent incident. I was also stunned that this kind of unprovoked attack took place in my beloved neighbourhood.

I know a few people in the hood and I knew who this punk was. I put the word out to some people, but it was another friend who singlehandedly nailed this scumbag in cooperation with the Toronto Police Service. And make no mistake, the police did fine work....eventually.

And now we have two more rogues wandering the street unabated.

Rogue the first loves to steal bicycles, break into cars, steal cellphones from patio patrons. Like some weird urban aardvark, his snout scans my neighbourhood relentlessly. He is known as "Timmy", but his real name is Tim Shields.

According to one officer, petty crime is through the roof in my hood. If this is the case, ya might want to talk to Timmy.

On a more disturbing level is the dude who is getting his jollies by spitting in the face of young women. He also seems to enjoy threatening brown skinned people. Truly he is disturbed, and I deeply fear what he may do.

On my street?

In my community?

I don't think so.

It is time to have the camera at the ready, talk to the cops, and let them know that we do not want these two criminals allowed to disregard the law with impunity in our neighbourhood.

A community involves participation, and if the citizenry is so disengaged with their neighbours then we don't really have a community.

I can get a picture of Timmy, no problem.

What I need is a pic of the freak who is spitting on and threatening women and minorities. Apparently he is a skinny little F**K, partial to halter tops and womens jeans. If you get a pic, send it. I will be more than happy to pass it along.

We all need to take responsibility for the quality of the community in which we live and if we don't, the lowest common denominator will dominate.

While I can't yet get Spitter Guy, I can get "Timmy".

It is not solely the task of government to protect the safety of the streets in our community. The job belongs to all who dwell within, in unison with the cops.

I say we all work together.

Anyone with me?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Watching Helplessly

Image by Dain Sandoval via Flickr

As I quaff a pint in the relatively empty Bar X, a storm of morons stampede in. They are young, stupid, and have no future whatsoever. If only Mom had eaten more protein while pregnant, things might be different. Immediately the jukebox begins blaring hip hop laced with racial epithets

I look at their carefully skewed trucker hats, their well placed piercings, and dangerous tattoos and I see obedience disguised as rebellion. The room fills with an air of  testoserone that is about to explode on a wave of cheap draft.

The bartender asks me to keep an eye on things while she goes to the washroom. Lets just say that I have darkened this door more than once, and the bartender has never asked me to do this. In relative terms, it felt like closing the casino after the Tyson fight.

I suspected it, but she knew.

And so it was that a fight began to break out among these "friends". It ended up with the dude in the Argentina jersey out cold on the floor. At the height of it I actually got off my bar stool, it was that serious. A brief thought flashed through my mind that I should try and help the owner/bartender stop this.

Then I looked at her, she was having none of it. Then I looked at the combatants and realised that each and every one of them could kick my ass. It felt like a mini G20, I witnessed, but did not participate.

However, I was pretty happy to see Argentina breathing, even if he wasn't moving. And a little part of me was grateful that it didn't happen in the bar that I work in on my watch.

Eventually, Argentina was escorted out with assistance from his friends. He was shirtless, his blood soaked jersey abandoned in the bathroom trash. I was glad to see he wasn't dead, but I didn't feel too bad for him.

He started it.

I just feel bad for the bartender, because sometimes things can spiral out of control, and there is nothing you can do but watch helplessly, despite your best efforts.

I also get especially worried when people walk in wearing motorcycle helmets and boxing gloves or, rather, I would if it ever happened.

Are you taking notes, 180? Apparently it is all about the head butt and something called "StraightBlasting".




http://www.goyestoeverything.com

I'm Syria-ess

Image via Wikipedia

Recently, I read a lovely blog post about how travel and falling in love release the same feeling in our brains. We're scared, we're not quite sure what is ahead, but we are willing to make ourselves vulnerable to an unknown that could change our lives, despite the risk.

It is absolutely true, and I felt that feeling as I passed through customs in Ghana, when I approached Angkor Wat and as I lunched in Halong Bay, Vietnam. It was the same rush that I feel when I fall in love.

And while I may not yet be reciting vows, I am developing a serious crush on Syria.

Fly to Istanbul, catch a train to the Syrian border, and after that maybe Lebanon, Northern Iraq (Kurdistan) or Jordan.

Best of all, I won't be home for Christmas, thus avoiding the blind intersection of forced generosity with empty spirituality.

Yes, I think I'm in love.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com