I'm The King Of The World!

Those dumb ducks.

Okay, Geese.

Think they own everything.

Before I got my trusty camera/phone thingy unsheathed, he was standing, neck extended, surveying his kingdom.

Here he's taking a stroll along the top of the building.

Last week two of them landed above my balcony while I was out there, necks extended, looking down at me.

As if to say, what the frick are you doing here.

And when they look at you like that, you really do wonder what you are doing five feet from them.

So I apologized and went inside. Not my best day.

No Wonder They Cost So Much

Went to a movie last week - for the first time in about five years.

When did the prices triple?

And, of course, with all that good Scottish blood coursing through my veins, I never thought they were that cheap to begin with [Ed. Note: hence the five year interlude, we suspect.]

I guess somebody has to pay for these honking, huge behemoths that they still call theatres.

Here we are, half way, looking way up at the top landing.

And here we are half way up again, looking down, down, down.

Huge!

But man oh man, they soak you for the privilege.

Sure, this was in 3-D. And sure, I didn't throw up, like the old 3-D. And the special effets were pretty cool.

So not a bad evening.

But that has now peaked my interest....I wonder what will be playing in five more years?

He Blowed Up Real Good

That is a deceased pigeon. An ex-pigeon.

He is not pining for the fjords.

A long time ago this old pigeon decided to lie down, have a smoke and expire. A long time ago.

I think the street sweepers need to be a little more on their game. Or what am I paying my taxes for.....

Yeck!

Bite Me, Rob!

Don't Even Think About it!

Other than that, enjoy your stay!

Heritage In Downtown

Here is a lovely, turn of the century home snuggled in downtown Toronto. Hidden from the wrecker's ball.

Or is it?

[Or why would I be taking a picture? And getting on that old horse of mine.]

Oh look. This one's only 44 stories. Hardly notice it.

Man, you won't be able to see an inch of blue sky before too long.

Daddy, What's "Hot 2 Trot" Mean?

"Nothing, just wear the dang stuff."

Holy smackers, who the heck buys their six year old daughter a nice pack of "Hot 2 Trot" whatever this stuff is?

I hear ya; it's not for six year olds, ya doofus.

Okay - then who is it for? 12 year olds?

'cause I don't think any self respecting woman of a "certain age" will be slapping this stuff on any time soon or she'll be scaring the bejeezus out of a bunch of 20 year fellows.

I guess the moral of the story is, you don't have to buy everything you see at a Dollar Store.

For.....Organ Donation?

...Life saving surgery?

Must be important to block a lane at rush hour.



Oh......

A snack attack.

I guess they think the sign makes it all okay.

"Officer, didn't you see the sign?"

Le Knee, Part Trois Or Quatre, I Can't Remember

So after seeing the knee specialist and doing a month of intensive anti-inflammatories, with no reduction in swelling or stiffness (of my knee, you cheeky monkeys) went back yesterday.

He says we're going to give you a little help. So he got his intern to get out a big honking needle and suck out three vials of....vile fluid from my knee.

[Admission; picture below not really me, but same situation. Minus the protective clothing and sterilized rubber gloves.]

But he just hauled away on this syringe and sucked out those three vials of this sticky yellow fluid. That is one weird feeling.

When the surgeon came back to check, he waved one of them in my face and said "No one can say you're not sweet as honey". Barf.

Then they reversed the process and gave me a steroid shot. Right into the old knee cavity. And you know what, that felt pretty weird, too.

As I got up off the examination bed and hobbled towards the door, the surgeon, who was now on to his next victim, yelled out at me, "Where do you think you're going like that? Are you in pain?"

I said I was just being careful, favouring it a bit.

He said "Walk normal."

So it wasn't too bad. I yelled out, hands raised, "I'm cured! I'm cured!"

I said, "I guess that limping wouldn't have been the best advertizing."

He replied, "You would have cleared my waiting room in a flash."

So we both laughed. Well....I did. He nodded, but in a more side to side way.

Anyway, one day later, this steroid thing.....is fantastic! I haven't felt this good in ten years. I think some of the goodness must have leaked from the knee area and fixed all my other aches and pains.

No wonder these baseball players were popping these steroids like candy.

So in retirement, I've now decided that rather than just drink beer, I'm going to train to do some doctoring. Well, injecting to be more precise.

Stay tuned for Part Cinq.

Another Sign That You REALLY, REALLY Like Beer

You go right to the Brewer's warehouse.

And they know your name.

"The usual, Mr. Joe?"

So this is where all the beer in Toronto comes from....

The trucks just go on and on and on.....

Like being at Santa's workshop.

Only much better!

Too good to be true.

The dream is over. You're not going anywhere with that keg.

Just kidding.....

"See you in a week, Joe."

Pause To Reflect

I didn't realize that my office looked out on to the Highway of Heroes.

Until yesterday.

When I noticed flashing police cruisers had cut off access to the southbound Don Valley Parkway.

Soon the entire parkway was eerily empty.

Initially I had thought there had been an accident on the bridge over the DVP due to the ambulance - left in picture above.

But then I noticed Canadian flags draped over the bridge.

And then a silent convoy of police sentinels passed.

[You can just see them between the trees heading left to right in my crummy photo. Double click to get a better view.]

Then the family of the fallen soldier.

Then the fallen soldier.

Very moving. Even just standing in my office.

This same ritual is carried out at every bridge along the entire length of The Highway of Heroes. Almost 200 kilometres. From Trenton to Toronto.

Firefighters, police officers, paramedics park their vehicles, lights flashing.

Ordinary citizens join them, draping flags across the bridges.

All standing at attention, paying silent respect.

As I said, very moving.

Ozzy's? Shawarma?

No thanks.

I'm not buying no Shawarma's from anybody named Ozzy.

I'm not buying anything from anybody named Ozzy.

Unless maybe it's a book about getting jiggy with Harriet.......

Call The Louvre!

Somebody airbrushed the doob out of the obvious fake they have!

And this finally explains her smile.

I blame it on the Vatican. They can't handle the truth!

I Wonder If The Parking's Permanent?......

Hey, The Assman's Back!

I wonder what this guy does for a living?

[With apologies to Kramer.]

Well?

The Lone Canadian!

Always on guard.

[Thanks for the eagle eyes, Big Joe.]

What? Your eyes aren't as eagle as Big Joe's? Is this better?

What Is This Thing?

Wait, I get it.

It's a non-mobile, mobile phone. In an airport.

So you don't have to lug your cell phone everywhere and pay roaming charges.

And it's pay as you go.

What'll they think of next?

What Were They Thinking?

Holiday Inn has just spent millions redesigning their logo.

And this is the best they can come up with?

If I had one, my six year old son could have come up with something better.

At least they've outfitted their hotels with quality and timeless furnishings.....not!

Where are we? Back in the 1960's?

Am I stuck in the back seat of my Dad's '69 Delta 88?