The Pointless Pursuit Of Political Opinion

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I recently posted a comment somewhere, whereby I expressed a viewpoint on the structure of municipal politics, particularly in Toronto. The nature of my comment was spurned by a local homeowner, who stated that people who rent their abodes in the city of Toronto don't pay any taxes.

I replied that myself and others like me, do indeed pay our fair share of taxes through the payment of our rent, which includes a portion of the property tax that landlords are billed.

I also implied that it doesen't matter who gets elected mayor, because it is just one vote on city council, and all efforts to turn this dubious struggle into some fight for freedom from people who own $700,000 homes were nefarious.

I was then met with a lecture about parliamentary democracy from the head landowner, who despite his supposed interest in all matters civic failed to see that municipal governance in no way resembles parliamentary democracy.

But hey, I'm just a dumb serf living on land that belongs to another, and thats OK.

The thing that really brings annoyance is powerless douchebags who think that their political opinion matters in the least.

Is my hand on the button? No. Is yours? No.

So shut the fuck up, no one cares about your mindless opinion over matters that you have no say in. Your fake intellectualism is wasting my time and yours.

Save it for your pointless dinner parties with your like minded friends, where you can all agree that everything is an outrage and the government sucks and you can arrange your seating cards to perfect your useless circle jerk and agree how very difficult it is to make your sportute, cellphone and mortgage payments and that living in this country is so very very trying.

But let me ask you this...Has anyone among the supposedly aggrieved ever thought to get off their fat spoiled asses to take a risk and put their own name on a ballot in any election?

Didn't think so, but I did. Its called democracy folks, and it requires more than kvetching over a glass of shiraz.

Me 1 Chattering Classes 0

Why don't you shut up or stand up? Because as it is now your absurd excretions are a great tempest, signifying nothing. You're investing in an illusion that you live in a democracy, and frankly that investment is a losing proposition, unless you invest in participating in a real way.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Restaurant Critics Lie

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Around the time that SARS hit Toronto, I  was working in an offshoot of a well established Toronto restaurant. that rhymes with bEDO. We we're struggling to get off the ground, when I had the pleasure of serving an elitist moron who was the son of one of Canada's great authors and in a conflagration of poor judgment had been granted the position of food critic in a still fledgling national newspaper of dubious reputation.

(update: the publication is still fledgling and still dubious)

I wish my Daddy's reputation could get me a job like that. For arguments sake, lets call this person bRichler, though I will avoid any reference to bathroom breaks, sniff sniff.

I served Mr. bRichlers table that night, it was a party of three, they had ordered sushi and then mains. I brought the sushi course, which was then consumed. After that the critics friends disappeared for a long long time, and frankly if I had the misfortune of knowing this spoiled moron, I would probably do the same.

But I'm your waiter, and I don't know that your friends are so bored with your company that they have fled to the bar upstairs to spend more quality time in the bathroom. I tell the kitchen not to fire the mains, thinking that Mr. bRichlers skittish friends are going to return.

They never do, but the following day, I get to open up the Bational Boast and watch good friends get pilloried by some born to the manor twat (who may or may not benefit greatly from rehab and a reality sandwich). On a personal level, I was left unscathed, but it was clear to me that these folks didn't know the difference between dining and eating.

Fortunately, the gentleman who owns this ill fated joint is blessed with another review in another national newspaper, and this time it comes from someone who attends the same synagogue. Lets call her, Boanne Bates, for arguments sake.

I then open up another national newspaper, (lets call it the Glib and Drole) only to find the same restaurant is one of the most brilliant things ever.

The thing is, that I served Ms. Bates. Once when she came in with her husband, and on a subsequent visit where she spoke with the owner, someone that she had previously to as " attractive and charming" in a previous review. I felt a sexual tension in the air that left me surprised that Ms. Bates did not get on her knees under the table in full view of her husband.

But hey, I'm just the waiter and that is not my concern. Ms. Bates later went on to vilify another well known Toronto restaurant run by the exact same chef, providing a similar menu. Perhaps the owners should have spent their Sundays somewhere else.

Next time you read a restaurant review, take it with a grain of salt, consider the source, and remember that the words you read may have an agenda that you cannot see.

Eat, drink, and think, for yourself.

And by the way, to all libel lawyers out there, I am implying that Jacob Richler is a cokehead and Joanne Cates is a liar. Any takers?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

Welcome To Farch

Image by eudaimon via Flickr

I once had a music teacher, a wonderful and gifted musician and actor, a very fine teacher, and, most importantly, a lovely human being.

I remember sitting in class one day when he suggested a brilliant concept, that those of us who live in colder climes can relate to. To this day, I live on an eleven month calender.

His revolutionary concept was that February and March should be combined into one appalling legacy of suffering named Farch, and to me, it makes perfect sense

April may be known as the "cruelest month", but that is only because April holds within it a "faint hope clause" that the weather could turn habitable during its run. In my experience in Toronto, it rarely does.

On the other hand, Farch represents the "dog days" of winter, a trek through a frozen desert with little hope of an oasis.

You might think that it is mid February, but for me it is early Farch. Hang in there, my sisters and brothers, we have a long way to go yet.

http://www.goyestoeverything.com

In Memory Of David Walden