Life on Queen Street

So, it's -22 Celsius (-8 F) out there today and that's before you figure in the wind-chill. Everyone is bundled up to their nose (I'm wearing fishnet stockings under jeans because I had foolishly let my ownership of a pair of long-johns lapse) and the layers of hats and scarves and hoods narrows our vision and the cold turns our thoughts inward as toes and fingers turn painfully numb. Add an iPod or cellphone and the solipcism is complete, turning streetcars into discrete jostling entities, an archipelago of humanity - St. Thomas Moore never commuted to work on public transit in Toronto in January.

So, it is possible that I did not hear correctly when the sextegenarian man came up to me on the bus as I was pulling the bellcord for the next stop. Perhaps his tone was not as snotty as I thought when he said "I can't get past with you standing in the aisle with your bag in the way." Perhaps he was not the entitled fucking asshole who couldn't wait the 1.2 seconds for me to finish straightening and turn so that I was not standing in the way any longer that I thought he was. Possibly mouthing those sentiments as I made my way past the startled old lady to the front of the bus was inappropriate. Flipping him the bird from the sidewalk as I left the bus was definitely ill-bred.

Then again... it's January - everyone has bags and seven layers of coats and the relative agility of the Michelin Man. He could wait for a second or try "excuse me" before rolling out his castigating little lecture - dicknose fucktard shitbird...

Part one in an ongoing series...

Let's see Tuesday, taking "Support Our Troops" stickers off publicly-funded emergency services vehicles was "appropriate".

Wednesday, three Canadians died in Afghanistan and suddenly, keeping the "Support Our Troops" stickers on publicly-funded emergency services vehicles was an "important" statement to make.

The timing of the council vote on Wednesday afternoon, of course, had nothing to do with anything.

Right. Pull the other one, it's got bells on, mate.

So, if anyone in Toronto is wondering why our city is going bankrupt and five years into Mayor Miller's mandate things are dirtier and more dysfunctional in this city than ever, I give you "Magnetgate '07" - proof if ever anyone needed it that our city politicians are a bunch of spineless self-interested windbags. One more in a series of empty, politically-expedient gestures that ignore, contradict or flat-out reverse Mayor Miller's stated position on an issue.

Island Airport? Still there.

Toronto Port Authority? Still there.

Waterfront Redevelopment? Still not there.

Condos along the lakeshore? Still being built.

A cleaner city? Still hasn't happened.

Provincial downloading? Still happening.

Civic leadership? Still missing.

Hypocrisy? In plentiful supply.

(Link to Toronto Star Article)

eta:

But let's be frank. Ribbons don't make anyone any more supportive of our troops than the logo-free. Sticking ribbons on bumpers is, in fact, often the easiest of gestures, the beginning and end of things by folks who couldn't find Afghanistan on a map.

Like all exercises in branding, as any bearer of a Vuitton bag or drinker of imported beer knows, the point is to make a statement. And the message is basically this: "I'm old-school, tougher than rhino hide, but with a tender heart. I don't drink lattes. I like Don Cherry. And I despise Michael Moore."

~ Jim Coyle, Toronto Star

Yeah, that.