Author: makobies

The Royal Prince Andrew

3500Being that I had the opportunity to briefly serve Prince Andrew, one time in my career and as he is currently embroiled in scandal, I’m rushing out on a limb to profile him. The motive of highlighting moment’s in the company of a well-known, to coattail my stature, isn’t a novel concept. Entrepreneurs have diligently deployed this marketing ploy, to repertoire their rubbing of shoulders while hobnobbing the famous and rich, as an approach for promoting popularity, into profit and success, since before the era of Napoleon Bonaparte. I’m simply removing pictures from the front lobby of many a fine restaurant I’ve worked, introducing perceptible images, transplanting results of my lengthy resume as head waiter, to drive interest towards my auto-biography. Political, philosophic and mathematical discussions in of themselves seem removed from excitement to the present day commoner, however add a pinch of controversy to discussion, might entice some persons curiosity to jolt. As they say, “to each their own” and drawing attention in a cyber-world of sudoku, call to power, limitless literature, schnapsen, poker, scrabble, political opinion, bridge, counter-strike, fake fruits falling with ever increasing speed, war-craft, chess, xiangqi, financial reports, briscola or the myriad of popular form of habit, is a task one mortal is disadvantaged to intrude. Hey, we all go down the proverbial rabbit hole, for the things we love. So if we should be successful in our attempts, we will have to send a “thank you” to Prince Andrew, for his invaluable Ambassadorship of England, framed during an increasingly inter-connected but always divided world, recognizing his human touch as contribution to the development of significant ideas. Aside the public speculations heaping upon him and insinuations of impropriety, I’m strong of the opinion, this man has powerful enemies, the likes which James Bond of fictional fame, couldn’t begin to fathom, in many embellishing movie sequels of one man’s fight against evil, for God and country. In the real world, Andrew is uniquely tutored and positioned, as soldier, sailor, prince.

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I’ve looked many a powerful in the eye, so when the boss halts your progress in the middle of the kitchen, while looking directly at you, dramatically extending his arm, points his finger at a direction behind his shoulder, into a wall and exclaims, “your serving Prince Andrew” is one of many reason’s, if your capable of enduring the stress and chaos, is why I waiter. Unanticipated adventure makes roller coasting or jet fighters comparatively dull and required duty, is to ensure everyone is enjoying the ride while nobody gets hurt, least of all your patrons. This sums up the foundation of my style. If your not having a good time, consider yourself dead, or taken by aliens. If you have issues and you can’t live with them, then I’m not your breed of servant. Procedure tended to example three possibilities. I could have been summoned by landline on previous evenings, requested to work, otherwise I’m already there, alert to knowing. Depending on the size of business but most likely a manager or subordinate, instructed by owner, if not owner for emphasis, regardless of which, in almost all cases, {99.2%} I will say, “When do you want me there?”  I cancel everything of marginal importance and reschedule my private life, short of surgery or compelling party. The second likelihood is an extended period of notification, in duration of most likely a week, but a sliding scale rarity, up to a full year, allowing for extreme preparation, should I holiday. This particular special event, the heart of a trendy spectacular setting in Yorkville, with the Duke of York, was a decision rendered by his host, impromptu. She may have mulled suggestions of a location, but I demur speculation because I wouldn’t be able to ascertain definitively. Having subsequently recalled, reading sporadic newspaper articles beginning two decades earlier, rumors of an enduring friendship, from Andrews schooling in Canada, may have reasoned as spot on, or could be altogether inaccurate. No matter, they were in my opinion familiar with each other and similar in age.

Springing into action from command, I entered to investigate our dining room, identifying the already seated prince and a female from the given coordinates of my awestruck, speechless leader. Immediately to one side of the swinging door at a place of projected arrival, stood erect but relaxed 006 and 008. They were everything you’d expect of British Intelligence Services. First thing I admired was the quality cloth of their sharply cut, tailored suits. They were older gentlemen but young enough to inflict serious damage to several villainous simultaneously, should a conflict arise, conjecturing fitness and all their must military martial art’s training. I was smitten with them instantly. I’ve seen all form of bodyguard, across a wide range of celebrity spectrum, in varying quantities and qualities, these guys were top gun. We had an interlude, as they sized me up, amounting to about three inches shorter than these two fit, chiseled, alert specimens. Having that the prince and entourage were our first and unannounced arrivals, all seating was made available for rearrangement, before we’d be needing to address our slew of lunch reservations, as witnessed from distance, the hostesses having already converged, were hurriedly preparing to re-process. Seemingly satisfied with our introductions, they began scanning for ideal placement to protect their assignment. I concurred with their obvious choice, a half wall covered by plant life, obscuring the gazebo from a further running elongated path to rear entrance, a second level corner table with a full view of all comings and goings in the main dining area. I escorted them to seating, promised to provide menu’s, understanding lunch procedural to their detail, pivoted and went directly some 20 meters to acknowledge the Prince and ask if he or guest had any immediate wishes and intuition their potential timeline.

Life is fleeting, fleeting as remembrances that strive for lingering and our history to remain a relevant reflection of who we are and how we lived. Looking steadfastly into a representative’s eyes with deep lineage, from the significant and powerful commonwealth monarchy, for a moment in my own life, I found fascinating. What did I see? My assessment of prince Andrew is sharp man with a sophisticated view of life, filled with experiences that most will never have opportunity, to glance. As I closed in to intrude his space, he intuitively paused his private dialogue to exchange formality with servant. Coddled since birth with attendants befitting royalty, dismissive of mundane repetitive doting, one should suspect a manner denoting such a lifestyle. Disarmingly, he was engaging, sincere as our eyes locked, most surely determining his safety and if amongst friend’s, because this prince is willing to venture into potential enemy territory, on a tactical whim. The facade of our establishment although elegant and upscale, could have masqueraded a tarnished underbelly some businesses strive to protect. Working colleagues and I weren’t forced comprehensive security checks. Our reputation must have carried as reliable, but how much credence be weighted to street gossip. Waiter’s in North America and less so other employee’s in our industry, are withheld subjugation of rigorous dependability requirements, at minimum to be demanded bondable, therefore resulting a transient nomadic work force. Split-second multiple divergences of psychological experiences and repetitious high-risk circumstance are a staple of decision making in prolific fine-dining. A priority responsibility to define success, is physical safety and onus finds differences, as an individual motivation. The emotional is intruded with streams of fluctuation. Hurt feelings conversely euphoria is the human condition.  In part, we protect the physical to continue the process of rationalization.  Collective welfare is paramount, beginning with the administration of food and ends with the arresting of any other recognizable potential dangers.


Upon the prince knowing, he would be well taken care of and with information of their dietary needs (no garlic), I went to find my chain of command and it’s state of stability. Perceived pressure can quickly disturb the hierarchy of a proprietorship, a condition I’ve usefully benefited, by utilizing a penchant for problem solving, to maintain my preferred front-line position as anchor. Upon a convened gathering of co-workers, I received updated orders from management, relinquished of initial responsibility, in a section containing the smoking lounge, to focus attention solely on these two tables of  consequence. It’s surprisingly frequent, this day and age, to cross paths with would be baronesses, viscounts, earls, marquise, still actively claiming legal hold, be it sincere or imagined, to deeds, titles and lands, from remnants of smaller kingdoms developed during feudalism. More so than other reasons, this group of seekers, likely contributes to continued elemental support to the ceremonial sustainability of the British Monarchy. I confess curiosity, mixed with romance, for sword, shield, and horse, displayed in pageantry.  To kiss a frog or princesses, is fantasy, books are made of and merchandising turned into wealth, contributing to continued folklore. Prince Andrew seemed the most authentic of British royals was a conceived notion I fostered, from prior his marriage to Sarah Ferguson, the “Duchess of York” and reinforced because I considered her to be admirably kind, strong, tough, sincere woman. Having stated these beliefs in this way, to sorority and fraternity types, supposedly created to protect these institutions of tradition, the reaction of the upper crust was to be offended, as if so ordinary and regular my opinion, I must be naive. Maybe they’re correct. I always draw on my instincts and make my own conclusions.1913481

I don’t pretend to be the superhero type, who craves blocking a hail of bullets or to haphazardly throw himself on a bomb to save a potential target, if I even be capable of this kind of chivalry. Although, there is an ingrained desire to protect the flock and leader, without judgement, should they be described worthy. If one can simply contribute with the occasional swiftness in emergency, for instance call an ambulance during a stroke or heart-attack, well that’s wonderful. The Heimlich maneuver, please chew thoroughly. Mouth to mouth, I take my rendezvous from any potential opportunity God provides. Syringes, personally avoiding hard drugs unless presented with a medical situation or for a sole controlled, experimental, presumably humanitarian purpose. Point is, soldiering, gardening, policing, nursing, doctoring, virus control, snow shoveling, deicing, firefighting, fire creating, pest control, poison control, psychiatry, photography, social work ….. and a litany of other chores I’m not qualified to do, even if equipped with some legislated government certificates and a lifetime craving for knowledge, are generally outside the depths of my ability. Therefore, I take action to avoid scenarios, early in potential sequences, to prevent extremes, whereby I would become ineffective and have inadvertently jeopardized someones life. Since I’m still gainfully employed, “knock on wood”.

Three hours on, the prince still graced us with presence, our staff majestically fulfilling it’s objectives, as everything was satisfyingly uneventful but for the sun beaming it’s cheery permeation and a hum of respectful pleasantry exchanging between our following of impressed clients. Nary heard in our efficacy, a crashing of cutlery or fine china. Word traveling quick this early of the week working day, representative’s of the business elite and shopper’s from creme de la creme district of Toronto, caused full our capacity 240 persons and drew an additional 120 for a successful second sitting. I was withdrawn all reason to dither, instead obscure in service of the prince because he was obviously content with reminisce his enamoring companion. Alternatively I engaged his attache’s, sharing lighthearted laughter with perspective, whilst in our observation of a laid back afternoon luncheon. Initially, as is always working habit, I obsessed pacing our inner and outer perimeter as if sentry, sensing the aura of our busy establishment. It became quickly evident our public was intent to behave their Sunday best, as still I continued alert, for harbinger of an unintended incident. Growingly we were mutual, then unison, joyed to have privilege of Royal Visit to our heartland and accordingly behaved as if Mounties ordered at ease, de facto guards in the court of our beloved Kingdom of Britannia. It was brilliant. I interject here with personal reflection, to openly display my prejudice, as long we be allowed thought, having lived before and after the birth of Canada’s nationhood, would alternatively, have preferred a remained colony of the Dominion. As loyal immigrant subject, I consider it demise, to have vanquished an elegant common heritage to hurtle ourselves forward into unknown, only to eventually succumb of lowest common denominator. Speaking as a self pledged environmentalist-farmer studying Canada as economic entity, unsustainable in present form and policy, should it continue simply for greed as in what was referred to ironically the green stuff, now the plastic stuff, will eventually fulfill swallowing it’s viability. As eager we rushed to extract our self determination, the privilege of independence squandered under a lonely misguided guise of unique perspective, exiling us dramatically from a far too distant home, we will similarly sell to absorption, sooner than later to a North South solution. Having too strikingly become a melting pot we acquiesced our deciphering taste’s to a hocus pocus quickening motion of molecules, falling prey to artificial genetic modification and it’s misdirected hodgepodge, disabling even limited semblances of discernment for significant requisite aspects that make necessary for a strong enduring society…… Painfully, I may be running obsolete as if dunsel but not because prudish simply against the watering down of all support based platitudinal distinctions  innocently against dilutting and overwhellming a society of  it’s core beliefs and a falsehood of betterment without evidence. Much as the attempt by some of science to replace the concept of God, is merely the attempt to disprove an omnipotent and destroy motivation for mankind to continue. Should we uniformly truly succeed in believing the destruction of God we would in all likelihood cease to exist as a species.  For Myself it permitted allocating additional time to compounding my initial opinions with evidence’s of character for Andrew”s two distinguished soldiers. associates and permitted expanded my speculation Permitted time  extra we served  but for pleasantry. a successful acheivement for our adminisration and a feather in our cap.outside of imediate family relationships are thin even thiner as traveller and diplomatthere’s a strong possibility that my three hours were more sincere than any meeting with a world leader that year how much do any of them really get to know each other. the prince is probably an open book relative toother country leaders who can hide behind the obscurity definless

I remember from my childhood when I first discovered what my parent’s having to copulate to have me and feeling uncomfortable, I remember when kissing the girl I liked was everything a man could want. Then I remeber the extreme’s to this innocence and wonder how everything good about man is lost by the evil that rises to control our better dispositions and how we wish to never relise that reality.

A form of centuries old adverizing from shakespeare and on


the prince was enamoured with reminisce so the more obscure my being the better my projected success. I used most of my time observing casually from distance with his security detail and occasionally performing sentry to convince all is well.

it isn’t difficult to to pedistel the queen

Do I think that prince andrew is some kind of deviant, no I’ve rubbed shoulders with deviants as part of my job discription. I don’t see it. But many os the sick are eager to accuse.

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the royal family This anamour



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stepping sideways I wanted to acknowledge here,  a tribute to Shakespeare

I think anybody that dosen’t believe this guy knows the score is dillusional or fighting obsolete wars and yesteryear policy positions. The universe as understood by us has dramatically altered as we hurddle toward an unknown without guidance and the obsolete monarchy with it. The scope of his world is significant because it runs up and down the food chain unlike no other any other within the monarchy and maybe be the reason many want to destroy his reputationIf your talking about a guy whose seen it all or done it all and mainained an intelligent perspective makes him impressive. I think he thrives from the responsibility.

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when people begin to diminish what other people care about, it won’t be long before they find that destruction is a two way street.

I don’t believe in anyone corrupting the innocent, there are enough places for the likeminded demented to meet without intruding on the space of the undefined.

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I would be hugely disappointed if rumors are true

I don’t know how he finds the time for family yet the real symbol of the monarchy is the concept of family some are odd some re deformed some are brilliant and some have meet tragic ends in there entirety when the population seems ready to agreive intorable conditions. this is a heavy burden that with Andrew is sincere but his approach is brave and determined. on the policy side of this equation I haven’t the time to thesis a defining argument. However, as a person I admire his approach and approach is a predeterming factor of impact and success.

I generally like people that most don’t because generally they’re not liked because they are diffrent and interseting and have perspective’s that are unique or misunderstood or difficult to understand. Not always I can dislike or like a consensus but these people tend to be definitive

recently I had the pleasure of viewing some of the extrodinsry photo’s of the Royal family at the McMicheal gallery as some of the working staff indulged me in off hour viewing which I thank many of my acquantances from this marvelous Canadian institution for the permsision and added hospitality. It was a truly spectacular visual insight into history.

physcological internal and externl forces but watch out for the moralistic media hounds there isn’t a place for abuse of the innocent, we already have enough problems

the teatoddling group that leads societies into war from their private gossip chambers that openly chastize and moralizeand have issue with his behaviourand this uniformed condescending opinion that holds thier hatred together like a glue of the most real royalas  if they have some kind of moral superiority similar to people who sing loudest in church and pray hardest are closer to God than the rest. Queen probably told her favorite don’t be like me Repunsel stuck behind the castle walls live a little and be free, thats why I like Sarah down to earth.

I feel to bind Europe countries together under one finacial umbrela is a cruel and unusual punishment. Expand this argument

there are truisms and there are fabrications and there are manipulations

I don’t have anything against anybody but don’t come into my space to resolve your issues under disguise of understanding and improving my life more than myself.

I sympatize and understand when andrew with humility lays the statement apologizising for letting his side down” I certainly don’t feel that

An arbritary marginal line that finds diffrences in juristiction amid particular century when deviated evr  an aftslightly while in view of eaugually eager womenhood seems more like an afterthought of spilt milk. and dens of ieequiety that soldiers keep be searched for scoundrel to find a soiled or tainted lass as later fact be brought to ineoendo. However, if something truly insepiede be involved I don’t condone the breaking of anyone’s innocence of any age by anyone, but sometimes descions are made in a vacuum and if it be shown as true a repetitive diet of obvious abuse than the authorities be they true should bring to bear a full unbridled prosecution of law I think this is much ado about feind outrage by those who have a chip on their shoulder or grudge about the the British Monarchy. Power does that

think he’s confident, carismatic, loyal, responsible, man of the people and not to break his cover underestimated. Genetics will forgive him from kingship nevertheless his role in the monarchy is etched as important and an everlasting. His service  contribution to a continued survival of the monarchy and by extension service to his people. Therefore many enemies. Long live the Queen


Ati; To Everyone Else Frank

337ee55b2e9bc0fa09e7049d13e0d28bThere aren’t many historical visuals of father, plying his trade as ace mechanic, for it wasn’t our practice to consume effort memorializing our work. (Today easy access and inexpensive photograph technology serves as an indispensable tool in most work places) During his informative years had he wanted to sacrifice more of his freedom, he’d have become a prominent engineer. On asking his reasoning, of this choice for vocation, he placed straight the index finger of both hands, tip touching tip, began rolling them quickly until they were in a spinning motion over each other and said simply, “I liked wheels.” To this day, passing his 87th on May 8th, coincidental to Victory Day and the end of WW2 in Europe, he chooses one, from his small fleet of maintained bicycles, to visit a latest non-deceased doctor for checkup. Uncomplicated beginnings. The rest, not so much. A favoured recollect of humour that went on for a number of weeks, paralleling his philosophic perspectives and life long devotion, because if he likes something and it works for him, he’s a dog on a bone, to my repetitive chagrin. I guess he wanted his curiosity quenched, to find through his friend, the day’s mutual activity and buddy just happened to interject this index finger rolling forward motion, as a part of physical expression to enhance, relating to something they had been planning to do. Dad was carefully listening and watching, asked excitedly, “What are we going to do then”? Friend, while talking on, starts rolling his fingers counterclockwise, signalling backtrack and of course my dad looses his marbles with laughter. Some people are made for each other. This simplistic, in some circles unsophisticated, view of how the natural world operates, when applied to engines, transmissions, universal joints, differentials, gears or anything mechanical would leave you falsely believing, anyone can be genius. If stranded deserted, with a broken machine of escape value and the chance of whereabouts sacrificed to forever unknown, dad is the save guy you want. His attention when focused on expertise, including materials, finds his mind fully activated and all perceptible resources are applied to the task at hand. He’s also the fortunate recipient of a superior education and is an astute calculator.

Dad joined into business partnership with a co-working English mechanic and the two as they had mutually precluded were a good match. Robert White was methodically verse with the procedures of running an office, communications, and the electrical side of auto-mechanics and though during the 1960’s hadn’t begun to approach present awe-inspiring levels of complexity, did require a knack for abstract logic, as it includes the dynamic of tracing sources of invisible power. They served as compliment, to cover the missing elements and forgive each others weaknesses, whereby when individual, they would be destined to fail and much later exampled itself, when they branched out on their own. I reference Bob affectionately because some period ranging from my age of five to that of resilient consciousness, whereby, the processes of working around machinery, should not leave me debilitated,  I’d spend a sincere amount of after school and summer hours in his self created office space, cocooned and aided by supervision, with father’s permission if not to be a nuisance. When not there, he’d quietly indulge his tutelage skills for my benefit, at a workbench, whilst breaking down and rebuilding generator’s, alternator’s and regulator’s. An earlier birthday gift from him, a vinyl album by the artist Gordon Lightfoot, my first of any sort, went on to become a wider collection of music, as was generationally popular and will always be gratefully remembered, for it’s impact. Knowing Bob, greatly contributed to my life’s versatility. Recently, I came to discover that Bob and Dad had occasion to repair the renowned Canadian musicians 1964 Red Corvette. 1964_Corvette_Top-2

Bob ornamented the front of our business building location, with his edgy, luxury, late date night automobile. The immaculately kept, often admired, adorned with purpose, by creating curiosity and intrigue, should this marvellous visual masterpiece, truly be housing mechanics of the worshipped craft and be they deserving of such a spectacle. The 1962 Ford Hard Top Automatic Thunderbird was blessed with a unique steering box, that when the engine was shut off the steering column when unlatched, would swing 45 degree’s to sit over the gear shift column, leaving the driver with the odd sensation of car without a steering-wheel. The dashboard console seemed space age and the moon seemed one small step from man’s grasp.1962-Ford-Thunderbird (1)

The Thunderbird contributed to it’s own notoriety, was found displaced a number of times, for intermittent lengths, over several years. The first time stolen in broad daylight from outside our local liquor store, but always returned, by way of help from the police department. Many of our client’s were officers, and also friend’s. This proved useful, in as is often typical of industrial area’s, the poverty level of local’s was significant. Random crime was to be anticipated, as a supplemental means, to their survival. A cluster of Dickens downtrodden children, reminisce of his novel’s prolific characters, found prominent the perimeter of our shop and the train tracks that served as lifeline to industrial production, included hobbled, aged turn of the century housing, in the clutches. They were to become my first introduction to rudimentary extortion. Father always had a soft spot for the orphaned, or infirm, or the hardened by no fault of their own, having fallen into misfortune and it’s culture. I was cautiously allowed, in limited quantities, to play with the children in the adjacent parkette, ball or chase, but of course with ample warning from not so innocent dad, about a potential for treachery. DLwlhhBX4AAe3xq

From the time I could remember I always had buck or coin in my pocket. In part it was Dad’s strategy, for requirement had me run the street, to errand the restaurants, of beverage or food for employee and client, at a moment’s notice. When a couple of boys known to me, beckoned from the rear of our garage, to alley and in need asked for some money, I obliged. Something I was warned to refrain. Sure enough my next meeting with them was ugly, as their second effort at my generosity was requested. They upped the anti and threatened to aware my father of the original giving. In fear of being admonished, I relinquished to their demands and subsequently had to attempt avoiding them, whereupon they became more aggressive, waiting out, in cornering me, anticipating cash similar to a modern day bank dispenser. In street lingo, they call the situation, “getting in deep”. I rightly don’t remember how it ended, but always, the couple summer months dodging, misery and discontent.

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Neighbourhood teens were given opportunity to make hay, by acceptance of handy jobs, with our encouragement. Some would show cause, then quickly dissipate, while others took advantage, to the point of thriving. Many of the young men and their brethren found themselves in biker gangs but we found commonality with some of the decent, although difficult in purpose. I recall one newspaper event and the participants known to us, had grabbed a young boy, a group of similar others controlled him, one pinched his nose while another poured gasoline down his throat. Thankfully, Gilbert made the hospital in quick order, fortunate of nearby firefighters, for the stomach pump. He was known to be a mischievous brat. Extreme’s are difficult to judge. His twin sibling Allen was an industrious and diligent worker who later married, departed the city limits and successfully raised a healthy family of six. Two older brother’s, destiny unknown, but probably a life of additional than needed, violence.


With frugality dad purchased a 1950’s General Motors Company (GMC) three ton, from the scrap yard and modified it by shortening the chassis, added a power take off and from scratch constructed the back-end into a tow-truck, with the manufacturing help of, from the time, engineering specialist of this type, Jack Sygnes, and professional welder Ivan Talan. Our blue and orange coloured logo, dashing, primarily the downtown eastern industrial district of the city, whether sleet, snow, rain or immense heat became an early morning roving visual constant to Toronto streets, for two decades. In tow could have been anything of substance, be it exotic or mainstream automobile, to heavy-duty gas or diesel truck of most weight classes and would definitely have been inclined to receive the complete service of our expertise, successfully. Such were our expectations. 1958-chevy-apache-viking-tow-truck-11

We excelled at the large jobs that in house mechanics of trucking firms, having reached a dead end, were unable to repair either for need of equipment or by extension lack of skill but ownership or management deemed that net worth risk and viability, to be exceedingly cost effective, relative to the financial burden of total vehicular replacement. We were a place of last resort. The variables of this decision making process are extensive and I’d begin reciting the more common reasons, however again, this would consume me from this current theme. Suffice to say that a knowledge niche, to those involved, can become highly profitable for all parties and from multiple angles.

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Proprietorship requires the will to devote long hours in the event of changing circumstance. Promises made, must be endured with additional commitment should perceived time frames alter because of misdiagnosis or unpredictable problems. If an eighteen wheeler needs to be on the road on a Monday two weeks from today and we fail in our objectives, you’ll soon find yourself without the best of client’s, where the gravy, when found, is consistently thick and tasty.


I was often an unwilling, semiconsciously observing, hostage, de facto apprentice mechanic, as all children similarly, to their parent’s particular vocation, should gratefully be. Maybe I sickened of cleaning and polishing the theatre as a non-stop function of my duty. Father in his obsessiveness about cleanliness and not just as part of his religious make-up, finds necessary, an effectively functioning mechanical shop. Our garage could double as the emergency ward of a hospital a seemingly incredulous statement this degree of sanitization, however, from my experiences we were clearly cleaner than hospitals I’ve had occasion to visit and sleep in. The insides of transmissions and engines to the untrained may seem filthy but machinery breaks down almost immediately with misplaced particles that are difficult to detect because of lubricants, oils and such that are needed to operate them.


Long after the employees had departed for the evening, or before they would show in the morning, or on days that should be considered, holiday, I would often with reluctance, be in father’s presence, getting things done. He would control this alone time for the task of disassembly, discovery, and diagnoses, with the intention of ordering the parts needed for repair and reassembly. I would stand by his side trying to figure out how I could be doing something else. He was impressive, openly for my benefit, tactically verbalize, logisticize, difficult to detect weaknesses in one area that manifested themselves further along the mechanism, to a larger damaged area. To repair an obvious problem, without recognizing and preventing the cause, means an unhappy customer will be back in your office with the same predicament in short-order. Your work is either all encompassing, or futile. So it was that dealerships and by extension parts producers and engineer’s of the largest auto maker’s, would surprise themselves with frontline visits to our confident garage to argue the viability of their designs. Sometimes these potentially costly efforts would become heated in argumentative exchanges, however, I never recall an occasion whereby my father’s judgments weren’t proven useful or correct. The proof is in the pudding, suggesting, that repetitive assessments, in the broad scope of unforeseen variables provide for comprehensive results, unrealized in theoretical, hypothetical conclusions made on the drawing board.


North American models required tools reflecting the British measurement system while European models are based on the Metric System. Our compact parts room, was comprehensively organized for both the more common needs, of trucks and cars, domestic and foreign. Otherwise, we had a flotilla of appropriate quality suppliers and machinists, reflecting the spectrum of versatility afforded us by the vast experience of our two bosses. Our stock room also contained the employees change room and an onus to supply our mechanics with fitted coveralls bearing their names and the subsequent responsibility of cleaning their uniforms. This rooms walls and ceiling also happened to be well-endowed, with curious and confusing photo calendars of cars with women in various stages of undress. Some represented our advertising portfolio. During my 8th year of school, the birds and bees flipped my switch and this area of our workplace took on new lustre. If I wasn’t working as nurse for dad, I’d be assigned to other mechanics as their gofer and assistant. As they opened up, or detached, or probed, or discovered, or foreshadowed potential needs, I would as a time saving measure be sent for tools, parts and equipment. “Bring me a lock washer and a seven-sixteenths” or “bring me the power-gun and a three-quarter inch socket” or “bring me a philips screwdriver and torque wrench” and I’d scurry off, with intended speed, representing efficiency, locating items to continue the procedure in a quickened, coherent fashion. A decent portion of effort I would contribute by shining light to the dark shadows of crevices of the underbelly, with a standard incandescent lamp, supporting vision to a potential problem and additionally lend a fourth hand as counter-force, or to defend a mechanic from awkward metal or hazardous obstacles. At some point I began to define an organized successful work ethic and the quality of mechanic that plied trade in our establishment. Each individual unique in technique, approach and procedure. I had my favourites and although much older than myself, considered them friends and protectors. Trinidadians, Collins and Fitz in particular I remember for their kindness, loyalty and awesome dispositions.6f57f7dab8d6cdd23fa5c880bc524591

The darkside  is injuriesthe garage is the bowls of the gladiator ring

fathers salads and food and booze

et tu ti

torch,  ignition leeds


So it was, that we maintained regular contracts with the Ontario Board of Education, the main government branch of post offices, (the public domain) , Brinks Trucks, Martin Cartridge and an unending amount of independent volume that required us to carry anywhere from four to seven descent to superior mechanics, which my father would chauffeur and bring to charge. This extensive variety permitted my curiosity to be explored. In particular, I enjoyed rummaging through the structural architecture of security vehicles, having to avoid unexpected entrapment and of course if a car was placed off the ground on stands and it looked fast, I’d play with the stick-shift pretending to be a formula 1 racer. My idols were Jackie Stewart and Mario Andretti. Sometimes dad would just find me under a car asleep on the creeper, something he obviously found perturbing. He was always on look out for my mischief and it’s possible that child proofing contributed to our workplace outstanding safety record. Life with metal is riff with danger even if the intention to bludgeon isn’t the offing. Human flesh and body parts are a potential testing ground for corrosive acids, explosive chemicals, sharp jagged iron and intense heat exposure.


My worst personal accident, that can still make my skin crawl, forty some years on, despite suffering symptomatically worse sport’s related injuries, occurred during my early teens in a period of increasing responsibility. Dad had asked me to reinstate the two rear axle’s of a truck’s differential housing and re-bolt the flange. I had appropriately cleansed the well lubricated heavy piece’s and had aligned the first axle into the shaft but was having trouble in placing the steel teeth into the groves. Carelessness merged with inexperience, suddenly sucked my fingers wrapped around the flange, pulling my entire body along and upon contact, elicited a distinct painful screaming sound. Father was instantly hovering above me, as I sat shocked on the work stool with both hands crumpled, afraid to look at something I couldn’t feel. I was relieved when he angrily called me an idiot and said as future caution, “your lucky the engine wasn’t running”, turned away, returning to his work. When I could think again, I saw each of my eight fingers identically punctured at the centre of every nail with a varying array of bright red blood. I believe this factored, in a lifetime avoidance of horror movies. Never enjoyed them and always wondered about those that do. images (1)

Auto spare parts engine

From the legal Canadian working and driving age of sixteen, to the age of twenty-one, I claim numerous investigations, into differing job experiences, with the hopes of determining a future. Some were larks, I accidentally stumbled into and gave research, others strategic to strengths I believed to hold, that could lead to viable opportunities. A beginning independent adventure, was six weeks of summer construction, into the roads to nowhere of Northern Ontario, by way of an associate’s paving company. Municipal bonds, paid six young men a handsome bounty to fill the cracks of broken roads with tar. I occasioned a weekend day, to an adjacent, flat, small, U.S.A border town to find the city square, intriguingly ornamented by a military tank. Investigation of stores led to a brief encounter with a Vietnam Veteran suffering the effects of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Contained always in his shirt pocket was  a BIC pen he claimed beholden, to having saved his life. Triage required the unusual use of the pens outer casing to re-attach from fragmentation, a severing of the main inner thigh artery, to prevent from bleeding out, until he was helicoptered to a M.A.S.H. unit. As you can surmise the economic and political aspects of this employment were of greater consequence than the work itself. Six weeks with six sex starved boys in a small town, was the proper amount of determination, to take what we could and escape Dodge. We did our job efficiently, made good doe, gained some experience and headed home. Similar veins of opportunity were created by father’s of friends, with a painting company and a construction repair contractor. The automobile trade is demanding but cracking. breaking and pouring concrete while maintaining desire is an alternative type of hell. God Bless the people who carve out a living pouring slow to harden rock and the plumbing related pipes they cover. And to this day I don’t care how many cases of beer and caviar you use as lure, I’m not coming, to paint your new abode, even if your my bestest friend and the conversation should be fun. “Caution”, ‘exaggeration ahead’, I become deathly ill during the holding of a brush or roller. It’s stroking the paint lines evenly, that’s frustrating. It’s stroking the paint lines evenly, that’s frustrating. It’s stroking the paint lines evenly, that’s frustrating. It’s stroking the paint lines evenly, that’s frustrating.


Moving on, whilst coaching boys early teen hockey, I found favour from a players parent, who controlled a car leasing company and I decided that a minimum pay rate, including expenses with the occasional return flight if need be, to car jockey the country, was a keen method to geographical insight and domestic adventure. One rare memorable winter trip, I solicited George, to accompany in the driving of two cars to St. Johns Newfoundland and we would return with one. Approaching the Christmas season, I was hesitant to journey, burdened with a peculiarly late first semester high school exam. Unwise decisions always seem tremendous, of course, until they’re not. Shouldn’t have been one, became two nights of Disco dancing on Saint Catherine Street in Montreal at the infamous Club twelve-thirtyfour (Club 1234). The former funeral home, had been resurrected to house, contorting, gyrating, far from dead, humans. An evening later, night driving found us entering Nova Scotia having indulged consuming curiosity stops in Moncton and Fredricton, New Brunswick. There, a sudden winter blizzard smeared our visibility and on a steep incline we found ourselves stopped behind an eighteen wheeler. Instinct deemed ourselves stuck in weather related congestion but while contemplating the missing car volume heading the opposite direction, I reacted slowly to a dangerously developing situation. The truck ahead, with weighted spinning wheels, dramatically accelerated in attempts to move forward, was instead slip sliding back, an amount similar to a third of the distance of clearance I’d given his rear. I was still nonchalant, when his second effort dawned, that he couldn’t see us, back the length of his truck. Equally unaware George, had his car in tight against mine and I too late summoned him to quickly reverse. We sat with the responsible driver, warming in his cabin, with falling snow, exchanging our stupidity and insurance information. Fortunately, the damage although severe, hadn’t penetrated the radiator and other vital organs, so we were able to proceed.


We pick up remembrance, at the first gas station coming out of Cornerbrook, accosted by several concerned but nevertheless always friendly Newfoundlander’s. “Has the ferry arrived?” “Were you on the ferry?, “It’s six hours, late!” I was overwhelmed on recognizing the significant life line, provided by this mode of transport, to the inhabitants of essentially a massive island nicknamed “the rock”. With tanks full, I became earnest and decided that interruptions weren’t going to be acceptable. Beelining was now ‘the thing’. Someone could be illusioned, by a representation of these events, into believing I truly cared about school .download (2)Passing beneath an overpass a police officer waved me over to the wide stone shoulder in front of him. Obviously prime hunting grounds for unsuspecting out of province visitors. I popped out of the car to greet him, habitual for me in allowing the authorities an opportunity to view my weaponless hands. As I walked towards him we met someplace halfway to his cruiser and on glancing, noticed that George was driving by, I hailed him to pull over. The policeman thanked me, for now he was able to penalty both of us because if I was speeding, logic concluded that my compatriot following, must also be. I shrugged to his obvious statement of fact. Forgotten preemptive plans, are important. Lesson learned. Anyway, we were both somewhat disaffected recipients of $51.50 Canadian currency fines. Just another in a list of incurred, ‘the cost of doing business’. Internal numbers were beginning to show, a European vacation would have been less expensive than this employment venture. 8C3Z-6R007

We proceeded smartly at a semi-reduced higher speed, to encounter a second member of a truly dutiful enforcement agency, but this time we shrewdly avoided our earlier error and gathered together as bandits would, at a later preordained location. Again I exchanged pleasantries with uniform and was about to walk back to my car, whereupon glanced the ticket tally, abruptly reproached the leaving officer with a distinct yelp of wooowwaa, “What’s this?” In a sharp return, he extended his polite head sideways, tilting to examine the thumb placed beneath a perceived discrepancy. I stated incredulously, “I was stopped about forty-five minutes ago and received a speeding ticket for this identical amount of $51.50, but I’m going slower?”. He knew instantly, where I was coming from with my question. Ontario. Same country, different province (state), alternative rules, contrasting punishment systems. His reply, “In Newfoundland your speed over the limit isn’t reflected, the fine is always the same”.  How delicious.cogs-2279289__340

Having notified our home office of the earlier trouble, plans had been implemented, requiring an altered drop off place and multiplied paperwork. Robust effort, still didn’t manage to get us out of St. Johns until well after nightfall and laying ahead that same needed ferry, probably wasn’t going to be late, returning us to mainland Canada. Our new used replacement, gas friendly, straight V6, had about five years on it and from my inspection, was in very good shape. George had fallen asleep exhausted beside me in the passenger seat and I found myself gradually pressing the ‘petal to the metal’. The dry, one lane highway was straight as an arrow, for miles and miles. The only light, our fully shining moon, happy above and in front, as if leading us along the forested, hearty rolling hills, of vastly alternating length and elevation. The speedometer showed 260km per hour, my real speed was faster and probably closer to 180 or 190 mph. Concentration was optimized. My habit of quick repetitive looks in the rear view mirror were sacrificed to focus exclusively on the hopefully open road ahead. Sudden changes in road conditions, such as meandering wildlife, or fallen rock, or unlikely human debris, would need to be responded to instantly. Pleasure driving, this isn’t. I was tense but also calming was the vastness of space and our continuing isolation from man made traffic. Some time eclipsed, and an extended visual stretch allowed for a quick glance at history, to see a set of headlights a far off distance, atop some four hills away. I computed this information without needing a second thought. About five minutes later I found opportunity to take another peek at history and was shocked to find it catching up to us. ‘Who the Fuc….. is this guy’, I asked myself. In five minutes those headlights had gained two significant hills or an estimated 7 to 10 kilometers. ‘This guy must be crazy’, or, under my breath, ‘he’s gotta be a cop’. ‘This is gotta be a cop’. Who else would be driving speeds that were actually cutting distances in half so quickly. You would need nerves of steel, a modified, government issued speed machine and intensity training. I waited to drop out of sight having calculated a couple smaller hills ahead, to obscure, where I would use the larger hill behind, as cover to the smaller second hill ahead to attempt my ruse and I therefore continued racing for the first smaller top to make it over before he’d have a chance to see me again. There, I cut velocity by 75% and briefly experienced the sensation of time having come to a stop. He came flying over the top of that second hill nearly slamming into my butt, more shocked than I, to find a little old lady from Pasadina driving her 1934 model t-ford. He sat behind me for a long while, contemplating, which deliberating cruisers tend to do , as I continued to fein a molecular impossibility. I believe, my intention had him unsure if I was the one, or if the actual culprit had passed me, was speeding and extending distance. Still uncertain but not wanting to be fooled, the red swirling light had me pull over immediately, as I decidedly, ended the chase and charade. This time I sat in my vehicle waiting for his arrival, debating the simpler times of our lives, before the advent of seatbelt laws, the abolition of smoking on public transit and in hospitals, a conscious free happily sinking their teeth into meat-eating society, an oncoming, quickly approaching Orwellian “1984” and the advent of mobile, communicating listening devices. My third brush with the law in less than a half day, would be considered by some undesirables, as an achievement. The officer was curt in asking for my license to drive and I wasn’t the type to pretend, so we understood each other right away. I wasn’t going to freely divuldge information to alleviate his suspicions. He went back to his car to check my statistics, now probably as notorious as a kids baseball or hockey playing card. George continued curled unmoved in his seat, pretending to sleep, as if nothing were happening, snickered and I told him to hush, as things were still developing. The policeman returned miffed but admirably polite, handed the potential summons, wonderingly asked, if I’d like to have the courage to accompany him, on a trip to the cop shop and view photos of the resulting trauma on humans and high speed. I was respectful and said thanks for the offer and ‘times a wasting’. He opted for a, “Good evening” on departing. I had endangered three lives, maybe more, as I grappled with the concept of a third, actually our fourth ticket in the amount of, you know it, $51.50.


I throw this incident into the fire, because I may not find a place to add it anywhere else, in a prolonged list of unusual occurrences. In the first working years of restaurants, a visiting from Quebec, co-working waitress, Monique or Angelique, something ique, gave me invitation to a party at her Montreal home. I accepted with glee, to highlight a common theme of North American culture in the late 70’s, frequency of social curriculum on French Canadian soil, enhanced status to dialogue, equal as tripping to “Gay Paree”. It was the “In” place to be. My personal needs were always primitive. Dance, dance, come on and dance, dance your booty, dance, dance, dance the night away, dance dance, ‘dancin’  in the streets. I showed to her place on a Saturday, a neighbourhood composition identical to my own suburb of Toronto, finding mostly those a bit upward of my age, but of course as would be anticipated, a decidedly French fluent Catholic group, of university student’s, trades and professional people. Acclimatization wasn’t wanting and I had the distinct impression that a competent bi-lingual female friend had been made aware of my pending visit. The only sincere residual feature of this woman I have today, is a verbal to myself, “Christ she’s hot!” and matching, she had the personality of a ‘firecracker’. We were immersed in conversation immediately and for the entire evening. She would release me occasionally, here and there, I believe for my benefit of interacting with other party-goers and then welcomingly circle back, to continue understanding each other. The sexual revolution that large swats of our population was emotionally devoting their entire belief system, was in it’s fullest swing but I had a couple of negative quick experiences and sworn off indulging the lifestyle.  As a practicality in my schedule, deliberating the five hour drive back and forth between two provinces on a regular basis, to date this interesting loveliness was beginning to permeate the depths of my male consciousness. However, the sub-conscious was projecting my eternal commitment to Caroline although we weren’t officially involved, we always seemed to be indulging each others company. This surprise murmuring, of an internal debate of anyone but her, I found disturbing, as the wonderful archaic emotion of guilt washed it’s way into my evenings social interaction.


My free flowing French fluent, mesmerizing English interest, re-approached to obliterate those unwanted thoughts, probably close to a punch bowl and we continued our exchange of perceptions, unsuspecting of a coming too quickly roadblock.  As an innocent anew to start dialogue she asked, “When did you arrive to Montreal”? “Last night”, I answered. “And what did you do”? Problem. I can’t lie. I could evade from answering specifically but to be uncomplicated and forthright I replied “Actually, I went to a strip joint”, and seemingly with naivety she proceeds, “Oh, which one?”, as If simultaneously oblivious and stumped, that they may exist somewhere in her city to identify. I replied, “I think it’s called ‘Super-Sex’ or something like that”, thinking how could it possibly mater. She throws out, even surprising herself “I didn’t see you there”! Ding ding ding ding ding and sirens began screeching inside my shelled brain. She’s a stripper! If you do venture to read any part of my writings you’ll find I generally allow the reader to decipher one’s own judgement of situations but on this occasion I’ll open up to explaining how my mind operate’s because it reflects on my perception of intuition, as a necessary part of an individual’s definition, self protection and examination of life. I like women. Typically speaking, “God only knows why”. To some this may seem a slight against womanhood but the significance in my statement, is belief in a supreme being, because it’s so obviously not us. Sometimes for long torturous stretches, the availability of enticeable allowable interests, thereabouts beginning, from the pre-mature age of thirteen, that should imply happier times, are none. Word on the street, as described by my legal minded friends was that liberal provincial and municipals by-laws in Montreal, removed the need for imagination from the broader equation. We were also aware that biker gangs controlled the under-ground scene and all the chattels that accompany this business. Dubious of the rowdiness and asinine behaviour that a group of young teenage men represent, I tended to avoid these collective situations as a precaution to my continued existence or as avoidance to the associated nuisance. We’d been to Montreal many times to disco but being alone, I pre-planned this anticipated excitement, for a pi of this trip.



I knew many a guy and a girl or two, including both of my sisters who were more so mechanically inclined, that would have jumped at the opportunity afforded me to indulge in a life of heavy machinery, exotic automobiles, a successful business, make a decent living and possibly proppel this foundation, into ever increasing opportunities, but as happens in life, I seemingly squandered. The obvious began to take shape. i was rejecting my father’s footsteps and the disappointment was beginning to effect his motivation and ambition. At some point, what’s the point? He’d been feeling me out for some time. His thinking that maybe i wanted to make a move sideways. Repeatedly refrencing how much respect he had for tool and die maker’s, Robertson Motors,




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We couldn’t consider the success of our family business, without the uncomfortable truth that this opportunity presented itself as byproduct from the horrors, suffering and our continued endurance of the second world war. Ati the only vocal calling my father I’ve ever used, means dad in Slovenian, was left fatherless as a direct result of German enemy force action in what came to be known as Yugoslavia. (South European Slavic States) My father called his father Tatek the endearing Croatian word for Dad. My father with mother’s okay named me Milan in memory of a Montenegrin Serbian friend. Yugoslavia for most intended purposes was a cobbled together Slavic partisan military that caused chaos and mayhem to Hitler and his invading axis ( shouldn’t be on our property) soldier’s. It became post-war policy that enemies captured inside this duristiction were by their military rank required to serve prison term or equivilant as punishment or disguised as volunteer accordingly, as such, manipulated for their ability  and to the usefulness of the nations re-construction. It followed logic that officers making regular army, tended to have higher levels of knowledge, experience and information. A common wiemark soldier or corporal was forced to commit  two years of labour while majors lutenenants, kernals and generals would have to serve three four or five years respectively before eligible to be granted release to return home to Germany. Subsequentlly, it wasn’t uncommon for former soldiers having acclimatized, and having nothing to return to, to stay in our now nations, after serving their terms and become German ex-patriots in Yugoslavia. As I became more aware of the ongoings of history and father’s personal events I nicknamed him ‘Rommel’s mechanic’. A reference lost on most in my purview and why I in my odd way enjoyed using, for just telling a need to know my dad is a superior mechanic, had equally little meaning or bearing to an uninformed.


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They were standing in the compound of our family square, that sat atop, the second highest ridge that makes the outer natural protective shell of the previously well to do village of Strigova. Some, two thousand years ago, during the time of Roman Empire, speculation claimed, it may have carried the strong name of Stridon and fairy tale that Legions having traversed far and wide on returning the road to Rome while resting these hills nick named the village and surrounding, “Nectar of the Gods”. If fable, a still truly significant claim by those of earth, to the glory of a heaven and witnessed testimony to the undeniable magnificence of this countryside. My grandmother, father all of thirteen, his older sister and my deceased grandfathers best friend Zorec Stejpan had gathered to discuss a future for my father. Seven days of brutal savagery had laid our land to waste. The expired had been removed or pushed into the trenches, the farmhouses all, were riddled with bullets, rooms missing, many in their entirety, trees cut in half or down and much of the soil poisoned with chemicals of war and the spraying of Zlatica named so for it’s ominous golden film. Recovery of these previously beautiful field’s would require the intervention of it’s inhabitant’s but more importantly God, for nature to hopefully heal, from the most recent of human lunacy and the spiritual destruction of paradise.


Rommel was nicknamed the the dessert-fox for his acumen on the battlefield by his enemy combatant’s. The nature of warfare creates as many philosophic speculations for causes of, as there are they who are willing to engage in active conversation about the theories of politics and economics propelling man to unfathomable solutions. Perspective is affected by prejudice and prejudice by acknowledged information and information by the quality of truth. One undieing pervasive theory that continues to find itself vested in todays consumerism, is German technology. Rommel’s successes were associated with his ability to use his mechanized units creatively in the realm of modern warfare and his improvisations were often results of a direct relationship with respected front line mechanics, the foot soldier’s of mechanical engineers. It was said that his army went on the know how, his mechanics sent him. Victory or defeat was the sum ingenuity of practicality. Nothing more, nothing less.

Greatness is almost always an extension a quality, relative to adversarie and foe. The more respected your opposition or, the multiplied a reputation. To evaluate the innumerable component’s occuring simultaneously over a five year period that encompased most generally an entire world at war is a study one lifetime can never observe, obsorb and calcullate to a satisfactory conclusion. The year 2019, would it be possible that a soldier somewhere is still carrying out orders given in 1943? let’s hope not. That would be one loyal and or, delusional human. “Time heals all wounds”? Or is it, when it dosn’t, we try to destroy memory of. “Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it”. I might add those trying to destroy conscious memory of history are preparing the field for ever worse outrages

battle-of-el-alamein-bernard-montgomery-britains-best-general-866919And of course in this case multiple foes. My favorite quote by “America’s fightingest General”, “If everyone is thinking alike, then somebody isn’t thinking”.


Dad and partner were trained during the cutting edge of mechanization, neccesity being the mother of invention. Nothing brings about neccesity like millions of dead, by the use of force, in a  brief period of history. i would argue man is never at peace only dormant until the preasure is re-established for civilization to express it’s animal self. However, I abhore violence and war just as certainly as a bar fight or domestic violence and always intend to serve as peacekeeper.



George S. Patton 1945 by Boleslaw Jan Czedekowki

George S. Patton 1945 by Boleslaw Jan Czedekowki









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after dad retired many called to have him accompany them to auto shows as their personal mechanic even if for a week. the pay that would suffice is a case of beer and conversation. tanks ex communist leader limouse it’s strange the scrap yards secrets.





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i never focused on the colluseum as anything other than a monumental historical building. However, the mechanics of the the building spawned the concept that allowed God to continue formulating the idea in my mind, gratefully.


Gordon Lightfoot —-Black Day In July              Gordon Lightfoot —- On Yonge Street

Gordon Lightfoot — Sundown    Gordon Lightfoot- Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald

Gordon Lightfoot — Early Morning Rain         Gordon Lightfoot —- Rainy Day People

Gordon Lightfoot — Cotton Jenny           Gordon Lightfoot – If You Could Read My Mind

The Beach Boys —Fun Fun Fun                            The Beach Boys — 409

The Beach Boys — Good Vibrations                     The Beach Boys —  Sloop John B

The Beach Boys — California Girls                       The Beach Boys — God Only Knows

Tracy Chapman—-Fast Car                A Foot In Cold Water-Make Me Do Anything You Want


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A horse                                                                                                                                                                 He stands in the sun at the top of the hill afraid of nothing.                                                          The wind blowing between his legs, his tail sways in the wind.                                                  He stands seeing everything around him listening to every sound.                                           He flinches every time a fly lands on him.                                                                                       I walk on the edge of the fence to look.                                                                                             He turns. he looks, he feels my soul, my calm, my peace of mind.                                             He runs with grace feeling every step he takes.                                                                               He comes to a halt!                                                                                                                                 He stands facing me his nose at my chest.                                                                                       We stand, facing me his nose at my chest.                                                                                         I take my hand and softly place it on his snout.                                                                             He flinches he does not draw back he doesn’t bolt he stands.                                                                                                                                                


The Whole Nine Yards

“And this too shall pass” Biblical


Suspiciously prognosticating, I could see this coming, combining limited high school science knowledge and having shared a decent amount of palliative hospital sorrow with a dearly departed. First glimmer of bicycle weather, presented escape, from the families coordinated, hunkered-down, quarantine headquarter, slash, cuckoo’s nest, to enter an outside world, trying my luck with newly implemented public health protocol requiring, ‘social distancing’, or should be aptly described as, ‘mental distancing’. Heard somewhere, a serious leader claim, we aren’t socially or economically constructed to endure, self-inflicted precautionary all-encompassing shutdowns, protecting against an invisible enemy virus. I haven’t slept this fondly since my last trip to sparsity, in vicinity of our family farm. We subsist embedded in Toronto’s city jungle and to find normally bustling streets evacuated, exaggeration begins to hear, a pin drop. An oddity has taken place, displacing the casual savagery. Deployed to humanities front line my entire adulthood, a suddenly now threatened into extinction career, this change is a refresh. I could become accustomed. Hardly surprise as to why leadership, with collective zeal, is in full attempt to piece Humpty Dumpty together again. Freedom is beautiful to behold and with it, the multitude including those plainly incapable of physically restored, may ponder moving off the plantation, forever. Cobbling the fragile bonds that engulf man together, has never been easy, even in the best of times.

download (1)It’s quite evident this isn’t for all, a looming threat of horrible, painful, lonely death, added punishment for loved ones mourning in absentia, however, put that aside and this episode has been a breath of fresh air. Apparently India is mystified. Looking to the skies, invisible of littering airplanes, open spaces between clouds, void the rumble of artificial breaking speed noise, removes the mind from pressure affiliated with pace, to and fro. ‘Twas a peaceful rainy day feel that never seemed to end’. The racket buzz of steel glass plastic cars, replaced by silent scents, portends an impend arrival of hummingbirds, mosquitoes, butterflies and bees, ever so benevolent by suggestive comparison. Highlight was sequence witness, a pole fisherman catch decent length gill, cautiously photographed with lawfully distanced pride by admirers, along a devotedly traversed route, touching the Don River banks on Cabbagetown periphery, a mere stones throw from the Toronto Stock Exchange. Buses that cavalierly carriage free slaves, packed as canned sardines, saunter by in emptiness, instigate thoughts of conversion to stretch limousine or mobile home. It all felt quaint and civilized, as though meant to be. Crossing our byways and highways, the noticeably fewer motorists are liberated to movement, in fashion intended by bygone city planners design projections, as my senses are shattered from such obvious sensibility.

We were smitten in outrageously referencing our society ‘the rat race’ during my teens and this unabated pyramid scheme for decades exponentially multiplied, so imagine the size and number of them now…. Hearing another infamous leader chime “We have to plan restarting life”. Maybe it be a good time to reconsider some of our prior failed follies but powers that be, seem to still be paralyzed, lamenting. Grieving is, as functioning adults know, a stage, before determining an objective way to move onward. Expropriation of lands from other forms of life would deem to need, halt. Depopulation, reclaiming slums, cessation in creation of new ready made slums, growing local and sustainable development would be fulfillment of some wonderful concepts, begging implementation. The oddity in these words is that I’m a right wing liberal. Whatever that still implies. It doesn’t mean destroying the planet. Efficiencies prolonged, turn into deficiencies. A former now deceased Canadian Prime Minister as well philosophic theorist, argued during a university visit to South America that political systems are engine’s, when successfully running, are depended upon, to solve a countries evolving national interests and these systems may need to change should conditions require drastic action.


Golly, who was aware the rarely lucrative ‘restaurant business’ was vital to the socioeconomic dynamics of nation building. Appears that food and booze served in a preferred setting, is the glue that holds communities together. Livelihoods I had contemplated studying, to complete my soul, have lost luster during pandemic. An epic accident of fate, has elevated my self-worth from the trash heap of the ketchup industry. Engineer, architect, human trafficker, physician, epidemiologist, drug dealer, marketer, lobbyist, politician, gaming operator, officer, diplomat, administrator, pimp, corporate lawyer, criminal lawyer, journalist . . . , coalesce their brain thrust and lubricate our financial system through patronage of the hospitality trade. Suggestions of gloves, mask, thermometer and who knows, a child’s playful wishful stethoscope, could be sophisticated trickery of promotion but how to draw energy to proceed, with suspect opportunity to gain, should it all be wasted, displaced effort. Mapping a way needs vision. Foreshadow a swell of plague, should we return to previous habit and can we ignore this premise, when crafting solutions. Historically, supernatural events were attached to omens delivered by soothsayers warning humans to impending unknown dangers. Before and after predictions, ‘I told you so’, are forgotten, until the next approach of high body count. The unfortunate side effect of genius pharmaceutical development, is false security, exposing us to ever increasing vulnerabilities of calamity, in our misplaced belief in science superiority. We need to apply layered defensive approaches to our survival, given that mad men in control, periodically run distrustful, a forgone recognized tendency. Conundrum when wise men discard their appreciation to awe, anything but themselves. Nature won’t be outmaneuvered. Begrudgingly, we shall learn to cohabitate with other living, or face an ugly surrender. Adjustments wouldn’t be profound upon the arrival of an acceptance. Our foundations utilized properly could make us healthy and prosperous. Uncompromising greed, is the real virus.


Cycling along, observing unusual, contributing self induced amusement enhancement imagery, I was undesirably revisited by an absurd dark visual, from a particularly disturbing movie. Dennis Hopper is responsible for a collage of mind numbing theatrical performances, interrupting two generations of who’s who in Hollywood. Cataloging a subconscious list of sick cinematic memorabilia is short, mostly the result of infrequent dead time or derived from unwanted invitations, as ‘must see’. Sometimes there’s absolutely nothing else to watch and while lulling, the quality of filming engrosses, capturing an outpouring of deranged passion, submitting to squirm. ‘Blue Velvet’ and other things ‘Lynch’ or genre and scenes accredited to Hopper are unbearable to watch without prior conditioning to morbid cynicism. His portrayals messaged controversy and skirted realms of twisted.

Jargon familiar for insiders, lined-up, packed, in the weeds, my four four tops seated, a charmingly placed love couch overlooking a bustling outdoor patio was being reset by staff, as I was picking up drinks from the service bar. Returning to intersect a fellow waiter, he and I having come board this fledgling tour, from separate postings, when one could shoot cannon through our dining room and strike loneliness. Each week our stature as ‘hot spot’ was elevated and camaraderie was gaining hold in this shared accomplishment. Dino, an endearing personality, dutiful, organized, efficient and thoughtful, possessed the qualities of an A grade employee. Initially a part time commitment, we hired into placement because of similar profiles, regularly in the service of powerful, intelligent and prolific people. Identically in mid-life, wasn’t much we hadn’t seen, so when Dino gave an exuberant grin, as if flashing all the keys on a baby grand piano and threw his hitchhiking fist with thumb over his shoulder, this motion clearing the tassel of hair from his lively eyes, awaring me “You’ve got Dennis Hopper”, was another notch, indicating we were hitting the top of our game, which is why we play. Twelve paces around a pillar, in those moments having grafted from air, said recognition, was to the next, looking at Hopper, leaning forward and sideways over the table with a menu in hand, glancing back his female companion, adjusting, seemingly perturbed, into her position of cushy plush leather. “You got a burger”? Placing down the menu he probably hadn’t looked at, making a circular gesture with both hands suggesting the preferred size of patty, his head tilting repeatedly, the eyebrows motioning peek at my wanted portion, he said, “I just want a burger, you got a burger”? “I want a burger”! I refrained because patron’s were within earshot, instead internalized my response, ‘You want a _uckin’ burger, I’ve got a _uckin’ burger’. For providing me over the years, hours of thought provoking, certifiable, film entertainment, I’ll produce one, ‘come hell or high water’. He’d probably have laughed and if the clock permitted, I’d have ventured probe of his disposition. Feasibility, prioritizing, prerogative, perk, standing, goodwill, command structure and a capable distribution of responsibility are a number of elements, functioning waiter’s filter to complete tasks. Customer obligation consumed my concentration. On advancing and having received his affirmatives, still carrying alcohol on my tray during interruption, continued with delivery, then headed to see chef about mincing a steak, peeling potatoes and agreeing to send my busboy to purchase condiments, further along to the bakery for hamburger buns. Reactions to this blurring emotional pace of rigmarole, are suspended, then reconvened to digest in the solace comfort of bed, where your mind is a darkroom, reflectively reprocessing snapshots of events, leading to releases of delayed amusement, sorrow, shock, discovery and stamping indelible marks on later to become hardened opinions. The space separating an actor’s on screen persona, to real-life aura, seem negligible. Who and why they really are, well, it takes a lifetime understanding oneself. Film gimmickry and sleight of hand shan’t obscure a rabid public, from idealizing their favorite. To do so would defeat the purpose of adulation, connecting to remunerative interests. However, and here I’m not dissecting Hopper, having had robust intimate contact with movie star’s and celebrated musicians, bit my lip, prohibitively cancelling from asking, “you do actually understand the implications of your film, do you grasp the significance of your ‘popular song’? The disconnect is numbing, or maybe it’s us, or me, or the audience, drawing pie in the sky, of malleable performers, guided by an ensemble of direction and an undefined personal belief system. Interpret as generalization, that impressionability and detachment, are applicable constructive methods, as if canvass, of an actor’s art form. On the other hand we have Dennis and I doubt just anyone would have crawled beneath his skin, to take a good look under the hood and examine influences of his distress and torment. Some having attempted to brush up uncomfortably close, were forced to leave disillusioned. A counterweight to tinseltown reputation, he was fearsome, sometimes loathsome, the bad boy was always hardcore authentic, appreciated among his and my piers for his work. Certainly an engrossing guy to encounter, valuing spirited insight but you probably couldn’t want to live there, for preservation of ones sanity and only if you happen to know what’s good for you. I’d give him this unmatched legacy. The lesson, personified, avoid evil, it isn’t pleasant. I had the good fortune, to briefly, bask in his presence, demented as that might be. (6)download (8)download (3)images (3)gettyimages_156487824images (4)imagesimages (2)hopper_lrggettyimages-542256034-612x612

The strange about this virus, is how it has rendered our intelligentsia, downright stupid. I consider this the upside. It places the power of humans in perspective, relatively speaking, in light of the unknown vastness of, you know, the universe. Of course we have to worry about the downside, that being, we completely lose it. In that case, grab a rake, for gathering of dead leave’s we are about to receive and prepare ourselves for the next growing season, whenever good fortune should provide us opportunity. For other’s, things could get downright dicey, turning into something resembling, a dog eat dog world. We expend endless amounts of energy, selling theories (bullshit) we absorb ourselves into trusting, discounting every evidence, as it’s linked to a means of financial reward. There’s the crux. I wait on the novelty and distinction of receiving my first government check, never having utilized the welfare or unemployment system. Things change. Fascinating to see our way of life inverse. I feel like bursting into laughter but we must for sake of appearance’s, remain solemn.  Government assistance is sending us money en masse to sit at home. Will wonders ever cease. Organized crime is in crisis. Amusingly, that’s always messy. And they scratch their heads, huh, feigning surprise, huh, about what amounts to temporarily ordering soft martial law, generating the highest unemployment rate since the Great Depression. This is what cheap labor brought our continent, mass destruction. Imbeciles. Blowback ramifications to ameliorate the entire system from crashing will be interesting, mighty interesting indeed. Knowing my fellow man from many sides of this equation, they’ll be chasing and dodging these monies all over Gods acreages for years to come. A likewise stunning anomaly, television doctor’s and health professionals insinuating to represent integrity. False Gods. Updated. Fake Gods. Their tentacles, scour the globe, probe every crevasse, came weeks, months, late to the party, without venturing even a contrived diagnosis. How useless are they. Why are we providing them our attention. My pets serve better as early detection warning systems and can’t speak the lingo, nor are we beached in far away tsunamiville. Dontcha know. Highly dubious, doesn’t add up, for ‘the evening enlightenment’ to be this out of the loop, at bare, have courtesy to lay ground work assessing these images from the east, hundreds of bio-suited teams spraying city streets with lord knows, what kind of chemicals. It’s not a healthy look. Am I to understand, skeptically, computer models forecast this disaster? Are we off human input altogether and have the high tech martial art guru puppet billionaire giants, become mere talking heads to their robot master’s? Did a supercomputer and a batch of humanoid zombie operatives order this up? Walking dead? Is the 010101010101010101 dial, set to high probability loss ratio? People I was indulging, surmised this incoming pandemic problem, minus a medical background or foresight from access to hundreds of employees in corporate tech networks. Before Christmas an uptick of transit commuter’s wearing masks was noticeable, due to foreign exchange student’s in our neighborhood college. Overheard a couple chattering, some wear masks to hide their acne, resulting from soot. How gullible am I. Meantime the House of Representative’s was focusing it’s insights on eating, or growing, or canning peaches, or something or other. What the heck was that about? Circumventing democracy? Why celebrate with gusto, women’s suffrage, to a century later water down and disenfranchise every citizen’s vote. The fourth pillar is complicit due to lethargy, performing the prerequisite qualifier of their mandate, mainly rigorous investigative journalism. They don’t seem remotely moved to outgrowing their useless pretenses, because the truth is increasingly inconveniencing their sponsor’s agenda’s and the days of deducing life saving tidbits from their manipulations, are kaputski. The question is, who’s pocket is W.H.O. in. Certainly no one I know, directly. Demeaning the motive’s of people isn’t what this is about, as optimism is a virtue I best cling to, but comes a time, things get out of hand and we need intervention. I’m convinced this virus, is that. An intervention. If your okay, don’t bother paying attention but continue to follow the guidelines provided by your province or state ministries, to a tee, additionally tailoring them to your criteria of common sense. If you don’t happen to survive, you can find solace knowing, that you knew, ‘only the strong survive’. The rest needs to be ignored, for their own sake, as taking themselves too seriously isn’t helping. Delightful in observation, is our controller’s rationale, as they seem sad and ever unhappier, yet manage never take an eyeball off the main prize of clinging to power, even be it we’re all depleted to death and there’s nothing left to power. My peeve with progressive liberal communism, it desperately needs someone to communist. Prejudice is an ingrained defensive mechanism, when it shows up in the collective as a weapon to subordinate, becomes an uncompromising vicious animalistic mob. Is giving up to communal thunk comforting, rather than brave singular expression? I would argue that larger mass is cumbersome and oppressive, the individual free and nimble. The one threaten’s at every level, the other open to possibilities of assorted comprehension. A babbling authority figure, unwittingly spewing matter’s of fact, perceived as foresight to his constituents, interlinked to discussion of mortality rate statistics, stated “we’re all going to die eventually,” anyway. Glory, they are now indulging in lecturing the apparent, as strategy to make us feel better. It’s stretch to believe, this governor of large jurisdiction, has ever been to funeral and there contemplated implications of biblical affairs. If you wonder how scenarios like Jonestown and Flavor Aid happen, look no further. Me, I’m running, running like that American citizen upon realization of crashing wave, dashing away from the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, it’s distant related precursors Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But Where? We created the monster, now we need to put this Chernobyl, Three Mile Island type genie, back in a bottle before we exterminate. I’m tired of them saying we’re all in this together, because if we were, you’d have been following my advice. I’m tired of them thanking anyone and everyone who’s listening, as substitute for payment in helping the distressed, because good intentions have never been affordable. Sounds like begging. Who do you think you’re fooling. Just make sure you have the wherewithal to keep feeding me. What’s with the steady stream of attacks on worshipers? I know members of my sect can be hyperbolic, but no more or less, than any other relevant group of religious and institutional fanatics. Ain’t no better policy, ‘moving forward’ (an overused catch phrase that ill’s me, where’s that bloody cliff?) than removing any breath of hope to your fellow followers. This is a winning formula? Stigmatizing the quality of our mental capacity, as master plan, to eliminate our doubting the possibility of an afterlife! Give us something. Com’on throw us a bone. A warning would do, otherwise leave us, to our own vices and our way of expiring. People devoured by science are morons of special sort, smearing themselves in omniscient stoicism, like honeytrap, they come across unaware as crude instruments of the devil. Research, experimentation, hypothesis, out the window, when spirituality becomes the topic, simply because it isn’t tangible. They’ve turned it toxic. They need tangible. Microscoping lounge time vacillating whether the covid-19 catastrophe was intentional, or a breakdown in shoddy enterprise, (most likely) fluctuates. Either deserve outrage and an ensuing explanation is essential to determine a first step towards healing, however, the invested are busy diverting our attention, from a definitive answer. To me, just like they, we’ve all become part of the same problem, which is the problem. I need a bit of space, to breath and grow and find myself, then maybe I and the rest of the world, we can hook up again and find a solution to these troubles, or if need be, go our separate ways. (permanently). No hard feelings, we just weren’t meant to be, you and I. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to manipulate, hopefully on another planet, in the mean time let the judicial system run it’s course assessing blame, if it can locate it’s misplaced scales of justice and blindfold. Initially, you’ll have to clear the buildings of lawyer’s and the body politic, fumigate, then search again. Oh yes here it is. The statue of liberty. Needs a good wash. Whoever or whatever unleashed the conditions of our hardship, screwed up, big time, because they’ve screwed a system that needed to be screwed on behalf of all the living things it was screwing. For me the seed of this destruction was planted with Sunday shopping. I new something irked me then and they went ahead and did it, without my consent. Instead, we should have cut our hours of labor, added a day of leisure and extended religious holiday’s. Disheartening, is finding my idealized childhood hero’s, for their profundity, performing music as shtick, while background slot machines, roll out sounds of jingle jangle, between guitar licks, bing bang bong. Feel good words and meaning, have lost value. At the cusp, we were sold out, to carpetbagger’s. I’m guessing all those joints we smoked, dumbed us down, made us lazy. While I’m in this area of poker chips and touch screens, here we find example, of good intention, turned nightmarish. Our public transport seating is arranged to facilitate conversation among strangers, when in the company of a hostile, glaring us, we uniformly become hostage to a steady diet of deranged, or walk. Can’t tell you how much I miss the lunacy. As we sit there singing ‘Kumbaya’,  spittle visibly or invisibly all over each other, thrashing around, holding for dear life to our handheld technology, between stops picking at it with our finger, like someone’s nose and no less applying make-up, because we got up late, as some guy, who hasn’t washed his torso in six days wants the window seat, ‘gotta get to work’, ‘gotta get to work’, a too loud, yoga vegan tattooed environmentalist who’s multi-manifold fuel injection car broke down at the airport, “yeah, I’m on the bus, no, no, seriously, I’m taking a bus”, and as you place that cellphone to your mouth to answer dad’s call, overhearing the latest tomorrow, some children in New York have died mysteriously, might be virus related, well you can see why everything has gone to shit, until we have a vaccine. Or Plan B. I’m in for plan B. By the way, I’m not George Carlin.

Here, I have to give a shout out, addressing two groups of personal concern. My fellow restaurant workers must be insanely fidgety, given the physical and cerebral qualities of our occupation, having been squashed, like bugs, from employment. Waiter’s in their secretly nameless contribution, ‘disseminating thought’ and for those that wholeheartedly deserve to be in this field, appreciating the unique feature’s of our job description, I sympathize, especially the youthful, capable and exuberant. Hopefully the duration of your inconvenience is short, although I’m sure the emotionally stable will adjust without fuss and move into other opportunities, representing your numerous skills. Consternation is directed at the hygienic aspects of duty, accounting for most of what we do as second nature, in preparation for receiving and during the service of our guests. Under normal conditions this work load in the hands of conscientious employees is essential and therefore can’t be understated, time consuming. With the advent of this pandemic atmosphere, the idea of fulfilling intimate service safely, is stretched from logic, in particular when assessing those segments of our work force, that are altogether incapable, of this expected performance. They become a menacing hindrance. Training and overseeing people who should already have been put to pasture, as they were never remotely capable of achieving the fundamental standard, well, this mountain is too steep to scale, rationally. The profit margins will disintegrate and the paranoia of advancing germophobia, disable our jobs disagreeable. This of course is my humble opinion. Until the disease is eradicated or designated boundary type conditions secured, to strictly protect abiding groups in isolation, I won’t be a customer to any location, what’s the point of being an employee. This leads me to regard the status of high-octane performer’s, including the casual philosophic adherent’s of physical fitness, correlating the symbiotic relationship of body and mind. I feel terrible for our professional athlete’s and the egregious livestock treatment they’ve been forced to swallow, mummifying men of action to mute. It’s a cruel world we live in. The strongest, quickest, flexible, mathematically accurate member’s of our physical world are forced to park their specimen bodies and add insult to injury, devoid them of noticeably participating as moral compass, to following in footsteps youth, who are in evident need of continuity. Admittedly bizarre, we can’t place sport’s legends, into hospitals or direct social contact with fans, because apparently the healthiest are unwittingly rabid spreader’s of this pandemic, alarmingly infecting those with weakened immune systems and compromised organs. Protecting the vulnerable is a cornerstone, to a thriving compassionate civilization and humiliating that we find our elderly in nursing homes ignorantly sacrificed. Helpful honest input should be dialed in remotely, communicating with past and present athlete’s, unbridled, uncensored, unapologetic views as contribution to solution and counterweight to verbal diarrhea politicians, irrational opinions, related to unknown positions counter to our countrymen’s needs. It will be curious to examine on sports return, the impact covid-19 has on athletes performance who’ve had the misfortune of contracting this virus. Be patient, for what is man, without the joy of games.


Sci-fi novels, movies and comic books copiously portray villains unleashing bio-warfare and in pursuit, a gaggle of Superhero’s spoiling, to spoil their sadistic entrails, always in the nick of time. Roused into this imaginary world, counting other oddities, finds youthful beginnings with the needle prick of a child’s inoculated arm. Fear and wince, the unwanted forced administrative subjugation of foreign substance into the blood stream, of an awaiting herd of perturbed classmates. We sense our frailties and in lieu of understanding an unknown, summon the superhuman, mixed in supportive good measure super-criter hero, as resource, to help formulate an artificial protective reasoning. Batman, Robin, Cat-woman, Captain Fantastic, Superman, Superwoman, Spider-man and my personal favorite hero’s, from a simpler bygone era, the bad discreetly good, defender’s of social justice, The Outlaw Kid, Kid Colt and Rawhide Kid. Today the glitter of these supernatural figure’s has replacements in the form of space character’s and robot’s, that walk, talk and evidently are able to produce hard up espionage sex to infiltrate. Leadership’s biggest fear? The off switch! When you realize you’ve become your own worst enemy. When psychotics overtake positions of power in their thirst to complicate self-absorbing suicidal tendencies, eliminating everything and everyone with them, to make depraved. Cowards. Drones, have replaced the old world charm of rapacious Al (Kool) Capone and the gang’s notorious hit men, as they mysteriously blow a noggin to smithereens, the unaware target, isolates in desert, during habit of answering a brand new, gifted, no return policy, cell-phone explosive. Clairvoyance, coming soon to a dealership near you, because surveillance by intent is inherently evil, a futuristic self-propelled vehicle, will indulge monitoring every aspect of external and internal surround, includes penchant and quality of your lifestyle. Decidedly disapproving of a dissatisfactory trajectory, self-lock, allow for last-rites if that happens to be part of your dysfunction, permit a final vaping, drive picturesque lakeside, tenderly drown you, may you rest in peace, reverse from the waters, deliver your corpse to crematorium, drop by a car wash for detailing and return to lot, for resale a next potentially failed, unsuspecting victim. (idiot) Alas even as unsafe children we despised being spied upon but for needed parental guidance, saving our bacon, from some obvious. If Moses had to do it all again, the 11th engaging engraved Commandment, THOU SHALT NOT BE A PEEPING-TOM. Stealth bomber’s, facial recognition, fingerprint and retina identification, soon they’ll micro-chip the male member at birth and upon adulthood, charge tax, according to how often I’ve intercoursed my partner, or other stupidity. As I partake viewing our current road rioters, indulging political protest, swearing profanities, coagulating in violent march, was it this way,  centuries ago, fighting tyrannical regime and the use of expletive F.U.C.K. Fornicating Upon Consent Of The King, or version. Modern day argumentative by etymologists denounce this conjecture, yet from linguists in my associations, I stand dubious of recent dismissals. On a wide field, deciphering subtleties is interpretative. Did royal subject enjoy control by Monarch, deep inside the loins of sleeping quarter, without a murmur of conflict? Or does the ruling class find implication of this connotation inconvenient? Who knows, maybe the acronym will evolve into meaning something apparent and profound, if it wasn’t. “Thou doth protest too much”. The future is a battlefield of thought control and mind meld gestalt. So I ask myself in this framework, where they can locate, forget humans, but a particular type of insignificant cockroach, desolate on region planet earth, capture it some distance below the surface membrane, but an entire city can have all it’s movement wiped out by edict and no one knows anything about what’s really going on. Again, I am a gullible guy. It helps in creativity and adventure. Welcome to topsy-turvy downtown Toronto, the present set of ghoulish Gotham City, chock-full stocked with complimentary cast versions of Joker’s, Riddler’s and Penguins. We always had plenty of lunatics, now we have plenty of diverse lunatics. Density and anything related is unfriendly, is what makes this virus ‘so acutely spectacular’. Bring your own bag, don’t bring a bag, we only take cash, we only take cards, wear a mask, don’t wear a mask, don’t stand, don’t stand, don’t stand so close to me, false positive, negative negative, negative positive false negative, positive negative false false false, send me out an S.O.S. send me out an S.O.S. message in a bottle, message in a bottle. I heard people are drinking a lot, chug chug chug and work place hostilities, have come home to roost. Divorce is imminent, or as I jokingly heard referenced, ‘released back into the wild’. Who let the dogs out? Break the glass ceiling. Our entire approach to living  has been upended because we outsmarted ourselves, again. Dense. We have rules that usurp the rules. I’m so confused. I think I’ll stay home, or thereabouts. Tranquility is around the corner.


I want a wide berth, the full nine yards. I don’t need to know your philosophy, your views, opinions, beliefs, who you work for, where your from, what you like to eat and how you got here. The suicide hotline number is posted on the subway platforms. If laws provide for six feet, tack on a significantly increased orbit for me, otherwise your terribly close to becoming an enemy combatant, or surely a heathen. Consider me exactly as the character played by William Holden in conclusion of the 1953 movie ‘Stalag 17’. I have an abundance of friends, family, considerations and conditions, without inadvertently being culpable for having endangered their lives, through contact with unidentified diseased mental degenerates. Shocking incident’s, if I cared to relive, would volunteer another chapter. I’ve had female friends claim this virus a godsend because the traditional custom of hugging, grinding and kissing can be omitted. Who new there were so many undesirables in their sphere. This plague could be an enormous premeditated fabricated farcical fiasco for all I care, because more than two months lockdown on, I’m unaware of a single person who’s died from this thing and if I wasn’t connected, this mightn’t seem unusual. From the severity of our institutions reactions, you’d think, we’d be seeing stacks of bodies piled and they’d be scrambling diligently, gleeful to showcase terror. It’s certainly possible that I’ve fought and disposed this virus, back in December during a serious bout and the Parents/Grandparents being of firm stock were mildly impacted. That’s not the point. Point is we started down this road as precaution and if World War 2 didn’t get them, then in the off chance, are coincidentally overreacting, so what? How many times have we heard ‘better safe than sorry’. Yes we’re on the way out but not this flu. Could be something worse but not this flu. Drowning in a bowl of porridge would be far far far better, then some asshole quacks screwing around with virology. We survived the Mengele era (Angel of Death) phase of our lives. Not looking for repeat. Sorry. However, this reexperienced bunker mentality has caused severe hardship to member’s of my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder relatives and won’t any amount of war reparation payments, suffice to comfort. So keep it. Limiting our already diluted movements, restricting the methods of grandchildren interacting with elders, well, we’ll keep this pretense up a wee longer, then set free, have them go out in style, with their boots on, at a place of our choosing. That’s the plan, Stan. See you at the backstretch! We’re dying on the finish line!

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A relative, recently sent informative reading, that deserves a gander. Should be helpful to insightful futures investors.

The Risks – Know Them – Avoid Them            Erin Bromage University of Mass Dartmouth

Canada should identify, functioning as the planets lung, ideologically identical to the Amazonian Jungle of Brazil. A one two punch contributing to ecological well-being. This pandemic is a glorious opportunity, speaking as an environmentalist, to reconfigure our economy and create a peaceful coexistence with our fellow critters, insects and plants. I was aghast recently on trek North to pristine Muskoka after some twenty years, to witness incredulous scaring of countryside from an overrun of human manipulations. And equally offensive, the trash, garbage and crap littering the fields. What’s happened to my country? Have we become barbarians? We should eliminate immigration to zilch and decommission human trafficking pawn brokers, as currently we are beautifully diverse, descendants representing a collage of all the peoples in the world. Much the same as Noah’s Ark, this boat has reached maximum capacity. Before we proceed, evidence is needed that other districts in the world are capable of these same policy characteristics, with equitable percentages of diversity, before we allow any more radical alterations to our current structure, otherwise it’s only a flawed exercise in domination. We can’t allow this continued assault on the fundamental values of Canadians. Allowing hordes of invaders to escape their captivity to exploit our wilderness isn’t going to benefit them, or us. Might make us some currency upfront, down the road it’s going to get ugly. Pressure them to address overpopulation, make repairs internally on their ground, for the good of mankind. Continue to hesitate, sink into this quicksand mentality, of lowest common denominator, will suddenly result in, too late. It serves no one. Curtail mundane unneeded travel by every speck of moving molecule to interject on each others domain, as if mop. It’s asinine. We need to appreciate and be responsible for where we’re from. Our movements unless holistic or purposeful should be bike, hike, jog, walk, run, crawl, hop, skip, jump, waddle, swim and a truly balanced puritanical local community transportation system. Take pride enjoying who we are, where we are. The metaphor ‘the grass is greener on the other side’ could soon fail to qualify because at this breakneck rate of deterioration, it will come a horizon, they’ll be no grass whatsoever on the other side. We shouldn’t permit every Tom, Dick, Harry, as part of a work vacation package, pay homage to Jacques Cousteau, in tow a tranche of National Geographic photographers, leading safari a military charge the few remaining elephants or invasion of polar bear, skinny dipping the subarctic circle. There’s been a clatter of bitching about how marine-land and zoo-world or is it zoo-land and marine-world have exploited wildlife to detriment and now we’ve taken this same audience, lock stock and barrel, transported in totality, to harass the concerned in their own enclaves. This is better?  We don’t need another brick in this wall. Many of our inner-city problems are related to ownership and taking away the ability of people to be responsible for some kind of personal space or possession. How much ownership should be relegated to the hands of one person or conglomerate? On the one side you wouldn’t want to abandon ambition, to lazy, on the other hand you don’t want ambition roughshod the rights of the individual. A balancing act it is, however, imperative to temper the widest scope of opportunity, to relieve the masses from a sense oppression. I think racial discord is less severe, than financial greed. If anything, this virus has exposed an obvious weakness that will lead fundamental change, density and over-population is restrictive to decent living and manifests human hardship. I’m against centralized control because it eliminates choice, options and eventually thought. We’re committing the world to fanciful globalist uniformity and transforming into a weak overly exposed singular organism, opposite to preferred strong diverse separate entities, resulting, we can’t afford to make error’s because the surging cancer whence taken hold, will envelop the entire body, rapidly to outright destructive force. Not too bright, placing our fragile collective eggs in one early evolutionary basket. Woe are they who err on our behalf, should they even care. There’s nothing complex about this crystal clear issue, so it feels silly, berating.

Witnessing some first positive signs from good old U.S of A. in years. Rocket launch penetrating space strata, instead of skirmishing, beheadings and anonymous covert violence amok across our globe. Formerly as a liberal apparatchik, had never supported intrusive policies, beginning with the Vietnam War, yet we seem steady quagmire, through any passing administration, from decoupling, despite consuming promises to contrary. “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”. An ensuing cerebral action would be withdrawal of overblown unfettered military forces, bringing them closer to home and let these great nations resolve disputes, under preferred auspices, enhancing their own identities without interference. Fictionally referred to as the Prime Directive. Also smart is hitting a reset button on 200+years of gratuitous industrial revolution and redo a reexamination of when things were big and we looked bigger. Wouldn’t want to indulge the public notions prude, as I entirely support the awesome adventure of technology, mechanization, super-computers, robotics, genetics, artificial intelligence, my driving concern, the multiplex issue delving into the appropriate dispersal and use. The accident of Covid-19 should serve to curb our consumerism appetite toward focused necessities and gateway restructuring the modus operandi. Smatterings are already hippity hop occurring. This is essential for locations that haven’t been spoiled, ransacked, slaughtered or swallowed entirely. Others shall have ample opportunity in this rejuvenating culture to claw their way back to decent. Megalopolises are growing monuments to irrationality. We have become the infestation that needs to be culled, presumably, hopefully, humanely, as infringing expansion is a death wish and the attaching lifestyle, tunneling towards schizophrenia. Density contributes to mental health disorders, which never amounts of social work, will rectify. It also reduces intimacy and compassion. Cage conditions lead to violence. What’s the rush? Where are we heading? Why so selfish? Do we need to construct so many toilet’s in the sky, that more recently have begun to emulate forms of incarceration, that additionally incorporates enterprising invigorating assumed mortgages, producing a special double whammy, spearheading the wildest hallucinations. Yes, there is a city street self-medication problem. This lid will blow bigtime. Bring back the good old-fashioned outhouse, please. To merely reestablish a standing of sanguine, to again contemplate compromise, consequence will demand protecting and creating space, until we’ve gauged motive’s in a world diseased by frighteningly deceptive intention. Fully believe should we return to a place, removed of incessant congestion, perturbs will resolve themselves and we can plan on maintaining equilibrium. It’s not just about us but the top soil beneath our feet. You’ll not have a movement, of effective human rights reforms, in isolation, until you advocate to honestly arbitrate, respectfully serving all living forms needs. It’s tomfoolery. It’s shenanigans. As we destroy the elements creating us, we will have destroyed ourselves. We need a complete overhaul of current contracts, meaning, that unbearably many will have to climb down from financial positions they’ve established or been clinging, to jackpot. Historically situations similar have led to civil unrest, anarchy, poverty, violent boundary disputes and God forbid, global war. The advantage the America’s still carry is manageable size. We don’t need anymore inhabitants on our side of the pond, as we are fully self sufficient with numbers, as proven during this pandemic. Find it spectacle, frequenting my local food or beverage mart and employees on behalf of management, instructed to solicit we paupers, shaming extrapolation toward a chosen vogue charity. Their internal retail researching, the status of clients, be they some fraction of sum means, they continue as if unaware, that majority are living hand to mouth and likely worse, indignantly, still have the audacity to guilt us into checking if we have fragments of pent up energy to keep the Joneses in their accustomed lifestyle. This clearly isn’t correct. It smacks desperation, adjacent to dishonesty. A clear signal of how poorly leaders are managing resources. Have we witnessed a single significant handout from corporate or private billionaire, funding a currently in need society. (Correction MacKenzie Scott) The rich will unabashedly throw all kinds of cash at manipulating an election. Now I do understand, resources are precious, to competitively keep the industrial complex afloat, particularly while in concoction of vaccine, the mundane peons need gainful employ and molding capital requires a skill set but can our governments refrain from panhandling our point of purchase. Have we lost all perspective. We can individually determine which needy from our pittance surplus to worthy of our donate, as we head out the door to find a half blanketed carcass with dog, before pilfering attempts to ‘head us off at the pass’, of our extra. These extreme’s are indicator’s, a system wobbling out of kilter and on the threshold of collapse.

Having posted the main body of this blog some months ago when my feelings had pulsated, needing release but had left this last part undetermined and will probably continue to do so, ‘what else’, as this pandemic continues havoc, without foreseeable end. Yesterday (October 2020), on ascending our tall building, was joined on elevator the floor immediately below by masked mother and young son, it dawned, a student was in class, stretching past his parent to confirm a gesturing teacher on a handheld device. Jarringly instant egocentric cunning manipulative thought had me salivating upon idea of having had this option during my youth, as diversion to tendencies of travelling daydreaming tardiness. Drawn to asking the boy some questions about functionality, refrained due to penalty reminisce of interrupting class, continued observing the educator lecture with enthusiastic sophistication as though this child, having it been my generation, would be representing a premature elevation to university caliber and disturbingly calculated this same stage of my academia was still valiantly attempting to comprehend three and four letter words. Was he connected live-feed to Harvard? Rewind. Yikes! On hitting brisk morning air, having learned something new in milliseconds of presumptive grade two schooling, was giving my head disbelief shake, recalling my parent’s repeated folktales of trudging through hip high snow, three, four, five miles to a rural community one room school house full of pencils. It’s not wonder to why sorrowfully, we overhear today’s young adults carrying feelings of useless, never mind the delicate status surrounding my age bracket, having watched our inherited galaxy whip past. Muddle on seeking relevancy. Simultaneously while I was reaching back material for other ongoing blogs for blook, took note of Amelia Earhart (pilot) first entering the public school system, into Grade 7 at the age of twelve. Similar to some members of my family tree, she was taught at home as in this case her mother and additionally a governess, luxuries we certainly wouldn’t afford. You’d pray for willing, capable, internal tutelage for minimum stipend. Say a savvy aunt or calculating father.  Today homeschooling is an explosive option. Provide a road map, authorized as curriculum and check all the boxes. Then give us a teacher, if that one isn’t informatively compatible, scrap ’em, give me another. Think you’ve got it figured, reaffirm your knowledge base with a third, fourth, fifth until you’re a confirmed professor and you’ll still have time for spare to begin a second, third or fourth degree. Rotten students deluging our classes as incensed instructor’s frustratingly struggled to gain control inside legally permissible parameters, the unruliness habitually clockwork during entire duration. Not another peep. Next best thing to a food fight. Sure your schooled in various strategies of crowd control. Might come in handy somewhere if ever you find yourself in the midst of pepper spray or confronted by tear gas canisters and users of such projectiles. Waiting for my fellow barbarians to settle their tendencies was a precious waste. After a while it becomes redundantly abusive. Social interaction finds better results in physical education. Laboratory hands on, is best productive with a small group of students. One on one instruction is definitively successful. On the exterior side, hey, I loved driving my daughter to school but hate driving. GPS and staggered starts? Education is big business heading for restructuring. I’m not advocating blowing up the entire system but rather curtailing allotments for strangers babysitting loved ones and in many cases doing a poor job. The tweaking has begun. It’s just that the re-set they’re projecting isn’t to be delivered in a manner anticipated. Surprise. It never does. It’s a pie too full of fingers without taste. Unfortunately everyone has become comfortable with their share, despite corroded qualifications. The dead wood needs to be removed, like in California.        


Vankat was found scuttled in a local dive bar where I confess to finding many of my longstanding associates, languishing. Chiefly those in the throes, where the cycle of life has thrown them backside, fractured, in what could become a permanent way and their will to live is ‘touch and go’. An average watering hole serves as human equivalency to an automotive or aircraft scrapyard carrying useful parts, from a former working whole. I collect these types like candy on Halloween. Discovering ‘how’ makes a person tick is an exploratory adventure. It’s who I am. It isn’t a conscious decision. I get unoccupied easily, so fascinating people are a byproduct. This is what I find or finds me. Always earnest and always with care. A seedy establishment or the black tie affair difference little in volunteering explosive information, often leading to intrigue and sometimes espionage. Maybe it’s this way for everyone. People when in my presence seem to spill their guts in rapid fire, during discreet conversation. They trust I won’t out them and equally important serve as help to solution a cause. This is my edge. This is what turns my crank. This is how I have fun. To extend a courtesy, you have to value yourself and feel good about your person. Of course things don’t always turn out in ways intended. That’s when things can hurt. Love and hate is a dilemma we all encounter. No pain no gain. How can we express the positive without finding a clinging negative. You grow into things before identifying them. Knowledge layered on knowledge creates unexpected elements of adventure. Vankat to some, would be a dime a dozen “I.T.” guy from Mumbai who did a standard middle east run through Bahrain, Abu Dahbi, Dubai dabbling corporate tech military contracts, later branched on his own, Europed and eventually crash landed in North America. To say he’s a difficult friend is an undervalued understatement. He’s also a deep well of applied practical history and understands the intricacies of diverse philosophical theory colliding, that includes parts of the world I haven’t the foggiest but for reading and seeing edited pictures. We did have a unifying catalyst, briefly unperceived, we apparently both ran the full gambit of Catholic education indoctrination, in our respective birth countries. Fascinated by query stored in his still functioning memory hard drive commonly expressed as the human brain  frequency where frequency blows a tire  But I won’t burden you with the highlights of our friendship because it would require you to be there to do it justice which was speculating where technology and the world is heading being the bases of many freimdship is a mutual desire for survival and intrigue Succesful in busness the ahbu dabi Dubai route sprinkled with military contracts but exhausted discovery happens by going over the same terraine tweaking and contibutions are collisions of thought and perception explained understood built upon and fascinated and the trip is long so it needs to be fun. I use remembrance of the geius of Vankat as a lead in some speculation we had together and you  may never find mention of him again, but give credit for a fabulous mind rife with issues

humans by design are encroachment oriented given the power will use it to fullfill

December 27th time 9:50 Am 2020  idea of transferring a persons phone # or connectivity to another person tech device.

Went to visit my friend Herzog

Repeating unsaved portion on December 27th time 9:59 Am 2020 idea of transferring phone # or connectivity to another person tech device

rare earth minerals and the gold standard  without reason to gain value in a nuclear weaponized world gone are the days of stagecoach running gold for hired guns. Expedient to expedite

we can see the future what has been imagined will be rwlized though  shrowded be the direction

it’s time to usher in a brave new world, but actually. Not to get bogged down with  today’s societal experience’s , reflected by members of my families youth who with the daring of any question remotely significant, pull out with must be practiced, fluid motion fervor, evident aura of self-aggrandizement, there hand held, second head information center, as if wild west gunslinger dependent on the quick draw for survival, just to provide irrelivance, to my ignorance, as if I be receipient to a final fatal bullet to the archaic.  It’s not a wonder observing the  generational mailaise, burnout and abandonment so early into adulthood. Soon the stress test will implicate more than our financial banking system as it spread’s into eliminating drivers, tellers, checker’s, purvayor’s, handler’s bagger’s similar to the way waiter’s once lite there customer’s cigarette’s went the way of done, over and out. Further absorb ourselves with the seven deadly sins, of course. Pride,     Hey I’m not pretending to be some kind of innocent saint type, I’m just as guilty as most, what worries me is the extremly sickly guilty that twist the truth make there way into positions of power usurping the live and let live crowd, leading us to a global Sodom and Gomorrah outcome.

As I literally role out of bed, position my head as not to be impolite, would have otherwise included my elbow, to attend an online staff meeting, I’m loving this, I mean, I am loving this. Extinguished is the need to hurry through routine procedures, such as a perfectly adjusted shower temperature, careful shave, search for matching sock, press pants, tie tie, worry about state of the ‘son of a gun’ SUV, repeatedly stuck in traffic, press gas pedal, press brake, press gas pedal, press brake, idling twenty deep for a lineup of habitual coffee and d-nuts, you can flip all this into feeling good about yourself not wasting time or gas or wear and tear, captured in vicious cycle like hamster spinning in wheel. Just bring brain. Straight from silent sleep, think in on a virtual meeting, where virtually zero might be happening anyway but for exchanges of bravado to justify expected levels of salary, that is usually not mine. Talk about saving myself humongous amounts of tick-tock. Instead of physically zooming in and out of these gatherings, pretending scatterbrain due to rushed busy, returning to a now coronavirused cubicle, instead simply produce a cardboard cutout of our favorite bikini location, rolling back into bed to listen to everyone’s machinations. Gone from interpretation are the forbidding glaring stare’s of echelon and a clearer cut to facts, reducing redundancy. Needless to say, there can be gains in participating, more so when we scratch the bullshit of getting there. Virtual technology presents challenges to the status quo because it eliminates waste. Currently waste is a primary source of production. If we run efficiently we obsolete 60 to 70% of our economy. The fulfillment of human contact smorgasbord, to grapple, probe, frisk, dismantle, ego stroke, judge, ally, strategies, join forces, defeat, spar, demean, shame, prestige, jealous, laughter, share…. well basically what makes man a spirit, be it for evil or good is altered by this new medium. For many, virtual communication liberates, pushing to the sidelines the control freaks that make life uncomfortable, worse if unbearable. This advancing technology revolutionizes the need for unmitigated travel, providing new opportunities in alternative production, reexamined self awareness, strengthened independent thinking and expanded leisure, all attached hand in hand to increased education. Less is more, quality over quantity,  possession of craftsmanship, instead of unlimited irrelevant trinkets and toys. Redonkulous you say? If you’re committed to higher education in any field how can you honestly support this current kind of unsustainable, bottom of the pit economics. The planet according to most recent census is 7.6 billion. Removing friction and conflict is terrible for an economy that demands an inorganic lifestyle for it’s primary source of  activity. In a pinch to travel distances for specialty exceptions could be accomidated otherwise slow will be cleaner and better. Jetisoning hundreds of humans in a steel tube with wings expropriates enormose amount of energy for the sake of speed . Turning planet earth into desolate planet mars or a gaseous cloud Jupiter is radical. We don’t need to recreate an atmosphere here on earth to practice in before our attempts to conquer space.  Professorship in commonsense tutelage must include reviews outside a specialty programming vaccum, instead of intermitently servicing as breeding grounds for jadded prolonged adolesence. Schools have become thought control centers instead of sticking to criteria’s of  knowledge studies and information.

Schools are like places of cattle

Curtailing the auto-mobile-motion industry is an extrodinary hit to every aspect of our economy, because the proto made for everyone’s personalized tank is resposible for a percentage over 90 of all human involment and endeavor. Oils plastics lubricants steel glass aluminum copper  If we innitiate a poison bullet hit on our population advantaging our computer advancement superiority, we can eliminate large volumes of waste.

It begins innocently, first it’s about protecting rights, then when that has been acheived and are empowered they begin taking rights away from others, in there infinite wisdom.

I shaved my head today


The Human is a very important species but each one he destroys or pushes to irrelivance or tries to water down the significance of is a nail in our own coffin

The revived importance of the family unit from it central location

We haven’t reached catharsis because I don’t think anyone or any group has begun to address the situation clear headedly.

problem in our system is decent people tend not to be involved in politics, they’re generally happier therefore less ruthless, it the squekey wheel gets the grease types

To die in peace, we need to live in peace.

We search the universe to find and understand God not to use our science to destroy our hope of eternity, happiness and joy

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, …”        Charles Dickens

Big Yellow Taxi—————-Joni Mitchell         Woodstock————-Joni Mitchell

Carey——————————Joni Mitchell          California————–Joni Mitchell

Monday Monday–Mamas and The Papas   California Dreamin-Mamas and The Papas

Born To Be Wild—-Steppenwolf     Tambourine Man—–The Byrds  written by Bob Dylan

Me and Bobby McGee–Janis Joplin  written by Kris Kristofferson

Piece Of My Heart——Janis Joplin                                        This Is The End—The Doors

The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down—-Joan Baez       written by Robbie Robertson

The Weight—The Band                          Message In A Bottle——————-The Police

Signs—-The Five Man Electrical Band       Here Comes The Sun——The Beatles

Same As It Ever Was——Talking Heads     Another Brick In The Wall——Pink Floyd




Our family moved to the suburbs of Toronto in the early 70’s, ending my hockey playing at St Michael’s arena. We were searching for a new team to join, closer to home, to shorten Dad’s travel. I had tried out for a couple of Scarborough clubs, Wexford initially and later caught on with a weaker Dorset Park, an unfortunate indicator that my abilities were lagging. It was during this time Dad became acquainted with George Chuvalo, also having a son my age, wanting to make a team. Dad, the always curious social butterfly and from the same country of origin as Chuvalo, found himself in the stands speaking Croatian with the Canadian heavyweight, numerous times, watching their children practice. Many years later I asked “hey do you remember talking to Chuvalo” and Dad telling me he still often ran into him in the Junction, a mid-west part of our city. “Did you ever ask him about his fight with Ali”. (Actually two fights) “Yes”. “Well what did he say?” “He said he couldn’t hit him.” “Go figure”, I thought to myself. I felt sadly for the Chuvalo family, sympathized with the sometime harsh reality of our ferocious ancestry. The characteristics needed to be great, can also destroy everyone around you.

Boxer Ali Dodging a Punch From Frazier

Boxer Muhammad Ali steps away from a punch thrown by boxer Joe Frazier during their heavyweight title fight at Madison Square Garden in 1971. Frazier became the undisputed heavyweight champ of the world by winning a unanimous 15-round decision.


Sylvester Stallone began showing up at a restaurant I worked in, one late summer and basically stayed for a few weeks. I served him twice, whereby he was always considerate and noticeably polite with good spirits to all our staff. In our youth, the boys in my neighbourhood loved Rocky. His scripting was a simple idea, at the right time, capturing the imagination of many. It was a decent attempt to portray man, removed of options, struggling to survive in the face of brutality.


The fascination is durability of skill and strength, while under the duress of pain. The asked unanswerable, Who was the greatest boxer of all time?




The added zeal with excitement, prejudices our belief, freezing the consciousness of an individual spirit, because we were witness. The “Thrilla in Manilla”, and the “Rumble in the Jungle”, were hands down, events of a lifetime. Criteria coalesced as if magically and the one ingredient making it spellbinding, was that Muhammad Ali was a highly intelligent athlete in a sport perceived to be for the stupid.





I appreciate your measured clinical response and cautious gumption. For the sake of speed and to disqualify a potential waste of time, I will elide the volume of detail each thought can produce. Most generally, to describe myself, I am an ideas motivated individual who has witnessed many of my concepts become realities, long after having conceived them, usually to the benefit of others. The road of development I find boring and consuming, so I’ve neglected the tedious aspects of business, to continue unabated, thinking and more immediately doing things I like. However, an idea that struck me as doable, about four years ago and long shot, is of such intrinsic merit, that after sincere contemplation I couldn’t allow it to escape my attention. The potential largesse allows me to examine and incorporate other interests of personal value, within the framework. The prospect of failure is mitigated by other successes, resulting from. My thing is, I find satisfaction, in my creative conjectures becoming fact.

As a proud project, from my individually conceived concept, with due given to unanticipated props, which will come to serve as evidence, I intend to see through to conclusion, the building of a new stadium over the existing colosseum, principally untouched, in Rome, that will house a soccer field as centrepiece, for a 2034 and 2070, World Cup in Italy, amongst several other stimulating dynamics. My fallback positions from this mammoth, I believe eventual historical occurrence, will prove unnecessary, are curious and complex in themselves. Sounds farfetched? Conversations, interjected with meetings, of contributing architects, engineers, stadium designers, financiers and trades friends, primarily from this continent, maintain this building still resilient enough to endure the procedures required to bring it back to life, likening this to the raising of Lazarus, as a breathing, working again venue. To have a Wonder of The World refurbished, revitalized and protected for generations to come, as an again intended functioning stadium, can be appreciated by even those devoid of a significant higher education. Like myself.

Drawbacks? I don’t own the colosseum, as any single entity would or should and those that do, including the Italian government, plus others with political suasion, would be highly motivated to protect their central positions. Secondly, I precluded, as part of the equation, it would be an embarrassment to the powers that be, that a mere mortal such as I, should feel empowered to touch the face of their history and believe the idea ingenious to be so presumptuous as to bypass their projections for the future of something of this significance, that they control. This was anticipated and incorporated as part of strategy, prior to advancing the concept in increments, to the general public. This process is on-going, as you can witness should you have the desire, to squash curiosity or provide an eventual gaming contribution, for you’re own profitability or marvel. Feel at liberty to contemplate, should you detect worth. My end game isn’t personal recognition and it isn’t money but should either find me, I wouldn’t be cynical, to reject from God, a gift. My satisfaction, again to reiterate, is creation and preservation.

Your potential inclusion, is simply an extension in the function of chance and my belief that there be no such thing as squandered effort. Of course withdrawal to focus on another task, is always an option and eventuality. I currently find support for this theory, through the impact that writing this letter contribute’s to some of my other observations, that would otherwise have been amiss. I believe myself of course amongst many, a precursor to the concept of gamer. That’s why I lingered longer than planned at the accidental for me, hotel convention gathering. Father taught me chess, which I later played in high school at the U of T club. My first cousin is Grandmaster, despite shockingly blind, virtually from birth, has defeated me lifetime 23 times, to my 1. Of course Monopoly, Bridge, Scrabble, Diplomacy, Trivial Pursuit, a German card game and for simple fun, Risk. The first complex military board game I indulged, was based on the Battle of Gettysburg and The American Civil War. Hundreds of pieces of thumbnail size cardboard cutouts represented the Union and Confederate Forces. Each provided information related to type of infantry, cannon, cavalry and also strength, firing range, movement. Cumbersome it was to stack and maneuver simulated units with the variable of dice on a hexagonal topographic board map. Games would take hours or days dependent on our stamina. The advent of computer technology brought additional relish because of convenience, sophistication and graphics. Panzer General, then Civilization 1,2,3 later Call To Power. Also enjoyed Real Time Games although a tad manic for an older person and Counter-Strike but always reverted to the preferred military strategy re-creations. These days I have little time for hobbies although on occasion play my favourite, billiard’s. Many of the new age computer games use the colosseum motif to promote product but none have theorized the reconstruction of a new stadium over the existing one. On a personal level the virtual-reality concept of players playing in say Savannah Georgia a real game, while simultaneously, as an illusion inside the colosseum, seems obscene. However, Universities and technology companies project virtual-reality a main stay of life in the future. Who am I to judge?

My Web Site is Blue Quadrivium and the content therein makes up probably about 7% of the anticipated whole, that my intended projections determine need to be concluded within two years. I’m currently not interested in volume of viewership. These blogs are rough drafts and many of the visuals are pilfered from the internet and in due course will be replaced, withdrawn or dealt with. Should you find intrigue now or in the future, feel free to connect. I saw a picture of the three of you and thought you all family oriented and Celtic. For me these are positive’s. If I don’t hear from you, I’m certain you’ll go on to have interesting and fruitful lives. I extend my best wishes.

As I found time to respond to you, we become witness to the burning disaster of the iconic Notre Dame Cathedral. The hypocrisy of the imbecilic bureaucracy, that wine and cheeses itself to gory gluttonous death on the backs of tax-payers, to the sum of tens of billions in hard currency, at the expense of true appreciators of architecture and art, boggles the deteriorating collective civilized mind.







Ljubljana Marshes Wheel

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I’ve often paralleled my parent’s ancestral home as the inspiration and foundation for the Biblical description of the Garden of Eden. As the Ice Age receded man became witness to the beginning, evolving, positive expression of active life and “saw that it was good”. If your doubtful, vacation Slovenia/Croatia for yourself. Pristine, plush, fertile and if you have a camera, picturesque. The immediate family at times behaves, as if active remnant of the Adam and Eve narrative, we are banished, try as we might, can not find our return to paradise. Thus far anyway, it’s been to no avail. This is the seed of my personal ambition and discontent, reaching for home where I belong but something always presents itself, to stand in my way. Can’t stop a coffin. “Miles to go before I sleep”. So it shouldn’t come as surprise, to any, that we are deeply religious, devoutly Christian and perplexingly Catholic. Consequentially, on our lands, one will find a surplus, of worshipping life and death churches. Perspective’s of religion and faith are drawn into focus, for our countrymen, when invaders, whoever the historical fashionable flavour, attack our body-politic and property, attempting to overtake us, because, well, we just happen to occupy a fantastic piece of real estate. images (6)Our determined unity, exposes our superhuman stubbornness, against the face of vicious enemy oppressors, lust and greed. To criticize this hardened national trait, is deduced a ruse, to surrender our guard, expose a weakness and leave us vulnerable to destruction. We’ve seen it all, in every form, currently known, manmade method of manipulation, habitually. This day is without difference as the games continue. Ask me how we got there? Probably equivalencies, of violence, barbarism, some assimilated others obliterated, with the help of plague and pestilence, or miracle of well timed flood, all under the guise of our own endurance. Life is a double-edged sword. Maybe one day we will tire of this gruesome, glorious, self assigned protection of heaven and dustbin ourselves into a footnote of history.


View across the Ljubljana marsh with the Ljubljanica River. The Ljubljanica River flows into Sava and later joins the Danube. The Ljubljanica River possessed strong religious significance for the inhabitants of this region and has also played an important pragmatic role, not just for the people living next to it, but also for people traveling east from the Italian peninsula. (Photo by Arne Hodalic/Corbis via Getty Images)

Everybody wants a finger or two in our pie and who can blame them, unless I inform, of how much blood has dropped to protect this popsicle stand. You begin to wonder if the Slovenian/Croatian people would better live without water, in desert, as cactus. Abundance can be a countries worst burden. And what, from all this, my fellow inhabitants of heaven are often a less than a happy people and the difficulty is determining if this resignation to sadness is reflective of their own spirit or the drain of constant interference from larger than us powers. I beseech you, leave us to our own vices, for a few centuries, so we can observe ourselves.


See what I did there? Diplomacy and shrewdness are vital peacetime characteristics. Survival relies on the negotiated goodwill of our neighbours and the continued balance of struggling adversaries. The mission today is adapting to high-speed, high-powered technology and requires my people to be nimble, spry, and insightful. Oh yeah, that’s not new either. New is when our children and innocent, live in an increasingly over-populated, hypocritical, dangerous world.


The wheel aside from it’s obvious usefulness as transport, was the first primitive significant mechanical form of communication and civilization. The wheel is what allowed me to paint so many walls, move all my crap, then call it temporarily home. Otherwise moving my belongings would have taken an unjustifiable length of lifetime. Hauling credenza by pack mule, through rough terrain, should still be considered tedious. I jest with obvious, but consider water rafts and boats as modes of transport for village, to hut, to modern day condo and that 500 years ago, most or all, remove a thoughtful handful, the world somewhere was ominously flat. I mean I would include myself as inept of any other conclusion. Only theorizing friends could save me from my ignorance.  If you had a pulsating imagination, sharks would be of minor concern, compared to falling off our still undiscovered planet, into the abyss of waters unknown. Pythagorus believed the Earth was spherical some two, plus a half thousand years ago. Aristotle and others were convinced, the world as round, including Ptolemy, such that it was studied as an institutional fact. However, if everyone was certain and not just speculating, why did shipbuilding take such a long time to develop, comparative to metal forging, and weaponry capable of catapulting tons of projectiles? I guess we were busy, as usual, tormenting each other. True the oceans are deep, as they are vast, as is the unknown.



The year 2002 brought the discovery of the Ljubljana Marshes Wheel and official radiocarbon dating, places the wood and it’s age of construction, in the range of 5200 years ago. It is considered to be the oldest and largest wheel ever found. The wheel is made of ash and the axel is made of oak which implies they were discriminating tree properties and quality. Also interesting is that they were able to define the origin of the trees used, to be close to the find area, of Marshes, some twenty kilometres south of Ljubljana.


Where’s the other piece of this wheel? Where’s the wheel on the other side of this axel? Where’s the piece that sat on top of this heavy duty axel? Detectives please. I can speculate some obvious assumptions. The only surety, is that a fluke, plus accident of man, combined with the physical properties of nature, to await present day technology and provide our museum important evidence of our history. What if found fifty years prior by a farmer and not as an investigation by educated trained professionals? Most certainly the unknown parts have disintegrated and decomposed.


As evidence suggests, the conceptualization of a push-cart comes into existence, at a simultaneous period of history in the areas of Mesopotamia and Europe. Useful inventions spread uniformed through man’s consciousness. The first to adapt new information to it’s military and foresee an obvious advantage, most often turn this into a moral imperative to attack a perceived enemy. If successful in it’s military tactics with limited damage to themselves, they will begin to create enemies to advance the greatness of their thinking. So it was and so it is.


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So in the name of goodwill and common purpose I suggest we develop a road race for the following nations of Slovenia, Croatia and Austria that can rival the Tour De France. For my personal interest I wish to incorporate any one or all of the following towns as passing route or primary stage. Prebold Slovenija, Podvolovljek Slovenija, Luce Slovenija, Bled Slovenija, Stuttgart Germany, Klagenfurt Austria, Graz Austria, Zelezna Gora Croatia, Strigova Croatia, Prelog Croatia, Pula Croatia, Vularija Croatia.


I also advocate for a larger European multiple stage bike race that finds it’s finally, inside a new stadium extensively built with grandiose, over and including a preserved colosseum of Rome. With the last stage encompassing multiple laps over the border lip of the gladiator ring in front of an audience of no less than 50,000 people. This restoration of peaceful spiritual revival, of the most brilliant architecture of antiquity, would become a modern day enigma. It would also participate to preserve the living relevance of history, for future millennium generations of humanity.




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photo_0001                                                    MILAN MICHAEL MAKOVAC

                                                           TORONTO, ONTARIO


MOTIVATION         To make a living and simultaneously enjoy working in an environment                                   where people can relax and savour one of life’s great pleasures; Food.

PERSONAL ATTRIBUTES         Independent, Honest, Diplomatic, Organized, Reliable

CAREER STRENGTHS              + Able to identify and respond to potential problems and                                                               needs of customers and staff

                                                    + Expedient and resourceful under challenging                                                                                 circumstances

                                                    + Able to engage customers in the dining experience and                                                               thereby entice people to visit again

                                                   + Understanding and responsive to a diverse and multi-                                                                 cultural clientele

                                                    + Excellent at all practical aspects of being a waiter

EMPLOYMENT EXPERIENCE          2003-2017   Chartreuse, Waiter                                                                                                           2001-2002   Club Victoria, (Croatia) Bartender                                                                                 1997-2001   Sassafraz, Waiter                                                                                                               1989-1997   Ed’s Warehouse, Waiter                                                                                                   1987-1989   Artful Dodger, Waiter/Manager                                                                                     1983-1986   Bloor Street Diner, Waiter                                                                                               1982-1983   Frank Vetere’s, Waiter/Assistant Manager                                                                   1979-1982   Sunshine’s, Busboy/Waiter

INTERMITTENT/PART TIME          George Bigliardi’s, Ribiero’s, Zum Rhein, Golden Griddle

EDUCATION                                     + University of Toronto (Political Science and Economics                                                             + York University           (English)                                                                                                         + Centennial College      (Accounting)

POLITICAL INVOLVEMENT           Vice President——-Davenport Liberal Association                                                                                                            (Federal)                                                                                                                  Policy Chair———-Davenport Liberal Association                                                                                                            (Federal)                                                                                                                  Delegate—————-Liberal Provincial Leadership                                                                                                             Oakwood Association                                                                                          Delegate—————-Federal Liberal Leadership                                                                                                                   (Davenport)

OTHER ACHIEVEMENTS                 Underwriter License (Sun Life Insurance Company)                                                                    Apprentice Mechanic (Gerrard Motors/Sunoco)                                                                              Taxi License                                                                                                                                            Apprentice Carpenter (Germany)

HOBBIES AND INTERESTS             Billiards, Chess, Backgammon, Cards-Sixty-Six, Reading-                                                              Military History















164578017-niagara-falls-wallpapersDuring childhood my babysitter doubled as language teacher and was mother’s inseparable Slovenian friend. Mia and I had a chance crossing, at a cultural event common to our heritage, a subsequent 25 years after her moving from Toronto to Vancouver and a job related to a fine arts program. On leaving church, we decided to reminisce this spring evening, strolling from the streets at Bloor and Manning, to Bloor and Ossington, where she was visiting her ill ageing mother. On passing through our old neighbourhood, Christie Pit’s park was burgeoning with activity and as we conversed about our reflections and perceptions, I rediscovered the enormous impact she had with my life. It felt as if she had planted the spirit of herself in me. Minus my ruthless streaks. I was taken aback by her projections, of the anticipated direction my career choices should have led to, as a social worker or teacher because I personally regretted for years, having rejected those professions as a means of livelihood. I guess her observation of personality and passions allowed for an unbiased identification of my motivations. As a waiter, it generally served me well to enlighten families and member’s, of unique perspective’s or abilities they may have, as people are often unaware of having special skills, more prone to believing they have special needs. So grateful to have had that walk with Mia and all the selfless care she sent my way. She was childless. I believe I was the fortunate benefactor of her compassionate nature.

When I began contemplating and visualizing the content of my biography I found myself interjecting segment’s with, oh yeah, it was around that time, that guy killed himself and how do I explain the emotional impact as an aside, from my intended theme, even if I could speculate to begin knowing. On noticing the numerous multiplying incident’s to be significant, there was wonderment if everyone is inundated with so many periphery experience’s, of the awful choice of someone’s self-inflicted death. I decided to withdraw these violent vignettes from my other subject matter and catalogue all the not so nice incident’s, into a few blood soaked chapter’s.

The three sister’s without brother’s, had a deep winter freeze, toga party and I as any sensible, hormonally charged teenager, needed to be there, but because of some responsibility, was to exasperation, likely to have to omit. At some point that evening I blew off the shackles of my restriction and with haste headed to the modern day, of my imagination, good natured orgy, that wasn’t. That I wasn’t inclined to make it, was reason I showed up mimicking a bundled rock star musician ‘Bryan Adams’, in jeans, cowboy boots and lumber jacket. The sheets they were a missing and ‘The Times They Are A Changin’.  I was preparing a polite gradual increase of forceful pounding on the front door to compete against the piercing volume of Cinderella Man permeating the shores of ice cold silence outside. Carol togaaaad the door open, drawing to halt, my breath, before I had attempted the pounding. Girl always had an uncanny sense of space, time and guys. I had a brief motivational peek of Rome’s conquering and enslavement of British subject. She looked like a happy victim but apparently the troops were already out of lager. She pulled out some young man like magic trick and if I minded driving to the beer store immediately, should disaster strike and leave us without libation. I didn’t know the kid, who would never make it to man, as I hurriedly drove to his apartment complex to pick up gold coins for the additional ounces, a semi-successful conquering army would require. It was frigid. I pulled up to the dimly lit, covered from the element’s, concrete roof entrance and he darted, disappearing into the building. Some moment’s drew a senior female driver also with passenger, forcing me to continue forward around the island so that she now occupied where I had been and I placed opposite direction, parallel. What appeared to be her off-spring, followed the same approach of hurried exit and entry. I sat there for a few minutes, marvelling the Leaning Tower of Pisa grey hair and how so many layers escaped touching the ceiling of her car, somewhat explained by, her eyes peering beneath the lip of the large old-fashioned, late model steering wheel. She never glanced over, to acknowledge my waiting and observing. She may have been frightened. On his return that boy dashed through two glass doors, ever so fleetingly greeted the forbidding air, in one motion opened the car door and plopped himself in the vacant seat. He looks over at me and says, “Let’s go”. Unfortunately, me wasn’t me. Me was now a screaming with terror old lady, with poofy hair, removed of intuition and the harmless nature of this kid. Poor guy was thoroughly embarrassed as he humbly pardoned himself from her car and repeatedly, kindly apologized, even as he rounded the front of her car, bowing with sorriness, heading to where I was. That red faced boy, man, boy, man, well he was of age to be drafted. I didn’t know him and if we had created dialogue amongst ourselves, it was absent significance, as our focus was the at hand business of beverage procurement. There were some sixty to eighty teenagers at the hearty party and I recall never seeing him again that evening. The next afternoon I inadvertently showed up for the after event gossip and our habitual post party, party. We had a firm understanding of priorities. The sisters and some others of our inner circle were sitting around cozy, on the parent’s plush couches but on this day seemed fully at odds with comfort, griped by abnormal visual signs of distress. Carol acknowledged my silent expression of query, saying, “You know that guy you drove to the beer store?”. “Yeah”. “He jumped from his apartment”. I was speechless.

Jane and I had similar urges for fine food, as we did a skip and a jump to Sherbourne subway station and headed to a favoured kitchen, crossing the Broadview bridge to Greektown. We whipped through the sliding door of the front car, slipping into the available seats on the right, behind the compartmentalized driver. Our internal sensors pressed the alarm button instantly. Sitting directly across was a caucasian, approximately thirty-five years of age, dirty curly dark brown hair, jeans, running shoes, white top, obviously in some kind of internal emotional distress, female. We were alerted into hush, fearful to where this might be heading, seemingly barreling towards destruction. The cabin to our left was sparse with commuters and our quadrant had just the three of us. She seemed absorbed by trauma and there was good reason to believe she was unaware of our obvious presence. We were pulling into the next stop when she stood up, but had no intention of getting off and providing us with relief. Instead she went with daze to the front cabin door and placed her hands on the glass as a child with some height might. We couldn’t see her face. Pulling out of Castle Frank station the tunnel approached the speeding stark reality of outside and the previously unnoticed, hopeless grey day, begging to feel like the foreshadowing of doom. We re-entered the darkness before Broadview station, except for the slowing artificial light and a premonition, implicating hell. Jane and I never referenced each other, we were simultaneously, fully attentive to her impending actions. The train started out towards Chester, a stop before ours and we’d be able to leave this scene, with the grateful, pathetic excuse of our hunger, when I saw the poor soul lower her right hand to the door latch, lurching to open and make a calculation I’d never have contemplated. She was preparing to jump on to the tracks, through the front exit door, of the moving train! Who knew. I was on her like a leopard on prey, grabbed her garment by the scruff of the neck and flung her the four or five yards slamming her body into the original seat she occupied. I yelled at her, “You’re not ucking killing yourself in front of me”! She brought home the meaning of the word sulking, as it was profuse. On re-establishing this memory, why didn’t I throw her into a closer available seat? Why speculate the unanswerable. We got off where we were supposed to, the next stop, at Pape and had lunch. We left her in that seat. I hope it got better.


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A grotesque story needing to convey, describing the insanity some jobs can require a human to endure. A Toronto Transit Commission manager acquaintance, relayed a horrific suicide situation. A person threw himself off the station platform, literally into (as opposed to in front of) the oncoming train with ill timing to the extent, at point of contact, his body became twisted and lodged, between the seemingly impossible small space of platform and train. I believe they are referred to as ‘gophers’, are employees who must deal with cleaning up the messy aftermath of mauled bodies. On this occasion they arrived under the train to find a body sliced in half at the waist but the upper half protruding above, still alive and probably, unfortunately, fully aware.  The self inflicted victim was engaged in conversation with security and later Emergency Medical Services as his innards were pincered together maintaining his life. The train wasn’t going to stand in the station forever. Ask yourself, who is required to make a procedural decision and the protocol, whereby this persons body organs, drop out, to the ground, when the train is ordered to move? Here buddy want a cigarette. Rush hour traffic you know. Who wants that job? Where do you apply?

Good friend, had a most prevalent half Canadian Indian girlfriend, the tribe escapes me and we often engaged in engrossing conversation. At one time  during the eighties when liquor licensing laws required early closure, she ran or similarly, was the proprietor of, an illegal after hours, more affectionately referred to as a booze can. These places quite usually by there nature, included an incessant drug using clientele, often of influential artistic types, than the mainstream watering holes of the time and were an advanced indicator to the direction and good measure of a societies immediate evolving future. Her chosen location was unique in that she had a bar area, that included an ice producing mechanism, glasses, wine, bottles of beer, hard alcohol, condiments and shank, placed entirely inside an elevator, of a basement floor. Should the authorities need to arrive, the touch of a button would become the stuff of Houdini. I never had the occasion to be there, as it was before my time. Confirmed true, possibly embellished but with her, I wouldn’t doubt the raw nerve of her character, to have connections and concoctions of the kind necessary, to run this kind of business successfully.

She was recalling a history of herself and a rock plateau placed partially internally and externally to a waterfall, by which no human having walked the river’s edge, along a deep, long path to stand on this spot, they were, as the fact of legend knows, destined to never return. The most likely circumstance of witnesses and conditions, wouldn’t be as strong as her faith.  It may have been a challenge, which in my opinion would be equally insane or it may have been a change in plans, to leave this life. She never said. However, she was proud to have endured and I having bestowed upon me, the pleasure of her presence. Angelo always kept the company of interesting people.

Bobbie Gentry………..Ode to Billie Joe            Elvis Presley……..Heartbreak Hotel

Rush……………….Cinderella Man                      Bob Dylan….The Times They Are A Changin’

Utada Hikaru……….Boukyaku                         Elton John..Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Pink………….Who Knew              Mylene Farmer… C’est Une Belle Journee.. Timeless 2013

Amy Winehouse……..Back To Black               Bryan Adams……….Cuts like a Knife











Into Politics



My first official entrance into the boxing ring called Canadian Politics, began with an invitation from my sister, to help with the Provincial Leadership run of Conservative Frank Miller. She worked for a mining firm that had skin in the game and I contributed as warm body, in the required effort of promotion and ‘we can’t live without this guy adulation’. For a few days, I rummaged the in’s and out’s of convention mania and why wouldn’t I enjoy a bit of of hysteria and pandemonium, to break up the monotony of my simpleton life. My effect on the outcome was negligible, as I never had conversation with the man who briefly became Conservative Premier of Ontario. His campaign however, cut my teeth, for an eventual journey into the Liberal Party of Canada.

The final grade’s of elementary school as designed by curriculum, cover an introduction of the major policy themes, of the day. Our teacher’s encouraged us with headings and we were responsible for individual or group perspective, used in competitive debate to support our position’s and attack each others counter-argument’s. Population explosion was already a concern in the sixties and early seventies as a precursor to the environmental issues we face today. Seems as if all that foreshadowing, researching and debating, culminated in a waste of time. Reproductive rights, the way we are lurching, will soon infringe the territory of legalizing fratricide, as the potential profit from harvesting organs and other prolific selfish purposes, are destined to eventually breach a recent allowable termination at nine months, to mother’s aborting their children up to and including the child’s first birthday. Blood money. This sums up humanity and our benevolence. Imagine the situation for the rest of our poor, dumb, animal kingdom and an inability to create a verbal argument to defend their interests in a court of law or public opinion and vote against their own extinction. If only these creatures would somehow learn to speak. Man shouldn’t be counted on. Capital punishment at the time I advocated against the death penalty simply as recourse against multiple murder. A killer believing an eventual way out of prison, may deflect his damage and the secondary pervasive reason, potential abuse by authorities or the legal system and preventing an innocent, from persecution. Otherwise, with definitive proof, omitting the need for safeguard’s, I’d hang’em high, with impunity. Anyway, as my uncle (Bless his soul) Tonce once told me, a witness to many atrocities, there’s a noteworthy amount of money in the business of death. I concur.

War and peace, inclusive of foreign policy and economic prosperity were my subjects of engrossment. This was an extension, to my hobby of historical and contemporary military tactics. My position, should have I become a member of the political establishment or the Canadian Defence Department, which I consider overlapping and operate as one and the same, as all government ministries are required, to be effective, would be a representation of my personal philosophies. Ultimately, I can’t do anything for my soldiers once they’re laying dead in the field, therefore, my responsibility is to ensure the survival of my troops and the society they serve, in any rank or ministry deemed to require my expertise. This could mean anywhere from regular forces and hand to hand combat, to Field-Marshall co-ordinating my troops movements on the battlefield, to Minister of Defence and the procurement of arms, to Leader of a Nation and the inherent function of diplomacy. The role of my auto-biography, aligns and contributes, for the likeminded, comprehending these parameters.

It was a fine early afternoon weekend day and our front door was an invite open to the warmth of our neighbourhood. My good friend, on seeing the moving bodies through the screen door opened it and called my name in earnest and I popped my head around the kitchen wall, happily greeting him. Instantly, we were a rush and as often in mission mode, bid the family a quick goodbye and bequeathed we’d both show for early dinner. We were on our way to a recently built community centre for some kind of political action and I was dragged along as last minute support because his dad (unbeknownst kingpin) was unable to attend. Although my friend had grade average always touching the skies, the procedural steps we were rolling into were as foreign to him, as myself. I was probably solicited because of our past penetrating conversations of situational geo-politics the likes of, Panama Canal, The Golan Heights, Vietnam War, Suez Canal, Idi Amin, South African Apartheid, The Khmer Rouge, Mao Tse-Tung, Fascism, Stalinism, Nicaraguan Sandinistas and Contras and so on, all speculative, removed of practical experience, just self thought theory. This was about to become our first youthful venture into political reality.

We were seated high up in the convention hall admiring the eclectic architecture, exploiting fresh space, filled by glistening sun. Intentionally alone and happily isolated far and away, in the stands, we believed ourselves immune of any kind of potential fermenting embarrassment, of our situational awareness, we were surely clueless. From our distance it wasn’t disturbing, that the faces of individuals were indistinguishably mulling around makeshift greeting and receiving tables. There were some small groups clustered together in the seating more directly in front of the action we eagerly intended to bypass. My friend of long standing and I, by our calculated location, seemed more destined to Apollo into orbit as astronauts then partake in anything that was going on down there, somewhere. This as you gather was all fine with me, as I had already settled as observer and my sidekick, limited in the scope of information he’d received, was uncomfortable to press forward as anything, but same. None of this would have retraced my memory if the following events had not continued to unfold. Suddenly, as if leaving a mothership, some individual male, broke away from the main body we were hell bent to avoid and climbed the universe towards us. We were dismayed at someone’s approach because this probably meant motives of a kind we would be unable to ascertain. We speculated quickly about nothing, for what seemed like eternity, even as the lanky man bounded the stairs by two’s, approaching. Fear of the unexpected was consuming us.

He shook my friends hand up and down with the efficacy of a car salesman’s exuberance and was simultaneously satisfied with his identity, as someone who’s name he had obviously anticipated. I unfortunately, as it turned out, wasn’t the father who couldn’t come. Time was of the essence, as is so often the case, in the needs speed, of big city life. As he extended his velocity to me, the gears in his manipulative little brain had already bypassed courtesy and moral standard. From everything he’d immediately concluded I was a useless unknown entity and to be purposeful in his world, would have to alter my name, if to become substance as a historical figure. I was taken aback. To represent myself as another human being, in my life was an occurrence I couldn’t begin to contemplate. Isn’t that illegal? The gall. Wasn’t I just at home with my family. What’s next the trunk of someone’s car. Dead. I mean if someone can flippantly eradicate a person’s name, is anything else a stretch. He doesn’t know me from Adam but is quick to assume that I’m willing to be, Satan’s little brother.

I was confused as he began ushering, towards who I now considered the core of other kool-aid drinking devil worshippers and I felt as if on a long downward trajectory to the gallows of an anticipated hanging, or better yet, a gruesome beheading. My being was screaming discontent. “What should I do”? I kept asking myself, “how do I get out of this”? Surely, I’m not to pretend to be someone else, going low, how far can I go. Documentation and identification would seem to be a precursor to legitimacy yet my pallbearer seemed adamantly convinced of unnecessity. The gates of hell forgo the rules required by mere mortals. Welcome to politics.

My friend and I helplessly glanced at each other, in fashion similar to villains on docket, left holding the bag and we stood mingled with others, moping with predicament. ‘Please make this stop’ and around the same time, as if heaven had received the echo of my hopes, it did. Relief. Indecision worked. Things were postponed or something something something, I could care less for how the dagger of corruption, was removed from my throat. We evacuated as if soldier’s, on first recognition, that valour and courage were no longer a useful commodity against imminent slaughter. Years later, to disgruntlement, I observed this same horrible individual become an elected Member of Federal Parliament.

Around this time and in between, I fell into conversation with a blast from the forgotten past, with Larry Grossman’s father, who’s son, also became temporary Ontario Conservative Party Leader and confessed to him my propensity to liberalism, having moved away from my initial socialist New Democrat Party leanings. He laughed politely in my face and said, “well you’re heading in the right direction. One day you’ll be a conservative”. At that time I wouldn’t have thought that plausible because I couldn’t associate the anti-war movement as compatible with Republicanism. Harken to today, the adage, “politics makes for strange bedfellows”, rings as always true, in more beds than one. “If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties.” Frank Miller’s political victory was my first.