The "THIS IS AWESOME" chant sums it up! i defy anybody to go there and not have a good time!
Speaking of chants, there was barely a time when one wasn't "going". Soccer fans certainly have nothing on ROH (Ring of Honor) fans!
At one point, chelle said "is this Circue, or is this wrestling?" They even got the bullshit chant going briefly! ROH is a completely different kettle of fish than WWE. It actually IS about athleticism rather than tired speeches and angles (Angles).
It was a total time warp, we had old school fish and chips at Len Duckworth's beforehand, which was awesome. It reminded me of the stuff we had all the time when i was a kid. In fact, the whole Main and Danforth ghetto area reminded me of the 'hood i grew up in in St. Catharines. Dollar Stores, down and out restaurants, junk stores that conjur up images of Sanford & Son or Cook's Curiosity Shop...
The arena itself is an antique of a barn, and it was "hotter than a microwave oven". One concession, so we didn't grab anything at all, and the food that people were buying looked completely menacing. One needed to sip some Pepto just looking at it! No picture of The Queen, and horrible acoustics, but man, i LOVE that place! This is the sort of place i would have loved to have seen The Rheostatics play. Something tells me Bidini was hanging out in the luxury, errr time keeper’s box. i'll have to try to visit sometime this winter.
Next time i bring my dad!
PS we didn't find the giant Lenin head.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
The Dude hates The Eagles, so does The Mayor!
Record Company Weasels could record The Eagles on a billion bit system, and i'd still fucking hate them!
Joe Walsh himself could buy me seventeen free Angus burgers, and i'd still fucking hate The Eagles man!
Those old dingbats are down at the Air Canada Centre, stinking it up royally. Are there no rules in Canada? We want to kick the conscience objectors to the US occupation of Iraq out of this country, but welcome The Eagles as if they were Stanley Cup Champions? There's more justice in most Banana Republics!
Between these bloated bastards and The Beach Boys, all i can do is dream of the pond freezing over and strapping on a pair of CCM Tacks! All i need is the pond too, not Hell.
Do you think Wayne Gretzky listens to that shit? Do you think Betzky gives a flying fuck about SoCal pop?
Mojo Nixon should be Knighted for having the balls to tell the truth, the truth being "Don Henley Must Die"!The only Henley i care about is The Henley Regatta!
On the other hand, The Great State of Michigan IS taking our garbage, so i guess turnabout is fair play.
Joe Walsh himself could buy me seventeen free Angus burgers, and i'd still fucking hate The Eagles man!
Those old dingbats are down at the Air Canada Centre, stinking it up royally. Are there no rules in Canada? We want to kick the conscience objectors to the US occupation of Iraq out of this country, but welcome The Eagles as if they were Stanley Cup Champions? There's more justice in most Banana Republics!
Between these bloated bastards and The Beach Boys, all i can do is dream of the pond freezing over and strapping on a pair of CCM Tacks! All i need is the pond too, not Hell.
Do you think Wayne Gretzky listens to that shit? Do you think Betzky gives a flying fuck about SoCal pop?
Mojo Nixon should be Knighted for having the balls to tell the truth, the truth being "Don Henley Must Die"!The only Henley i care about is The Henley Regatta!
On the other hand, The Great State of Michigan IS taking our garbage, so i guess turnabout is fair play.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Jaymz Bee responds
(The following is a response from Jaymz regarding an earlier blog entry. He demonstrates the maturity and intellect of an eighth grader. Guess you showed me Jaymz!)
I have no idea why I bothered to read your note after such a negative tirade.
I don't believe I know you, but after reading the first bit, I know you don't know me...at all!
You'd think with my CDD (compulsive disclosure disorder) you'd understand where I'm coming from. You can knock my bands all you want - I don't care - but knocking the Jazz Safari and what I do for jazz music in this city is just mean-spirited and ignorant.
Please don't bother writing to me again.
Jaymz Bee
I have no idea why I bothered to read your note after such a negative tirade.
I don't believe I know you, but after reading the first bit, I know you don't know me...at all!
You'd think with my CDD (compulsive disclosure disorder) you'd understand where I'm coming from. You can knock my bands all you want - I don't care - but knocking the Jazz Safari and what I do for jazz music in this city is just mean-spirited and ignorant.
Please don't bother writing to me again.
Jaymz Bee
Sunday, June 22, 2008
They all go home and listen to The Dark Side Of The Moon
We hit The Danforth on Friedeggs and saw a gigantic new building going up across the street from Allen's. Pretty sad, the thing is practically the size of a Wal-Mart. Enjoy The Danforth while you can, my guess is there will be a Winners doing in shortly, i wouldn't be surprised if there already is one, stealing all the boys from the local Greek delis.
A huge and hugely weird group of people were lined up in front of us, somewhat shielding us from the jubilant Turks. Apparently they won a soccer match in Europe or something. There were about four vehicles, fourty seven Turkish flags, and they kept circling. If any country in the world wins anything anywhere and its summertime in Toronto, the flags and horns will be out.
Tanzania crowned tiddlywinks champs of south east Africa? Check. Nicaragua wins the title of the Latin American cockroach stamping championship? Yonge Street will be jammed up with revelers dancing la cucaracha from Queen to Eglinton. All of these impromptu celebrations are great of course, with the exception of Caribana. Avoid that like the plague. Leave town if possible. One year I escaped to someplace safer, downtown Detroit. This is the absolute truth gentle readers!
Anyway, we tried to figure out what the strange group of people passing by on their way into The Music Hall was going to see. Somebody used their Blackberry. Then we actually spoke to someone and asked them. They repeated the name of the act a couple of times, but we still weren't clear. "Opera? Pop?" I thought of pretending to be security and asking to see someone’s tickets, just to find out who was playing. The procession of ticket holders seemed to be a weird Christian crowd, as they all had that "just shot up with God" look. There’s only one thing that can make one’s eyes that glossy and empty, especially en masse. The God Drug scourge strikes again!
After finally looking it up, it turns out to be some jackass identical twins calling themselves Ryan Dan. They're probably big with the American Idol crowd or something. Somewhere there must be a shoe shiner counting his tips and thanking his lucky “Stars”. I hear former Star Search host Ed McMahon filed for bankruptcy recently. “Broke-oh!”
We hit a bar at Yonge and Davisville on the way home, and it stunk worse than our green bin. It was SO stinky in there that I broke my rule about leaving a bar after only one drink. More soccer though, they had a framed Ally McCoist jersey upstairs.
We noticed a display of bongs in the window of the convenience store around the corner. One of them was soccer themed, a “futbol “being the base. I nearly went in to buy it, or see it, hold it in my hands, I don’t partake of the 4:20, but it was just that bizarre! Ricky can you hear me? Anyway, a soccer bong is far more acceptable than a soccer mom in This Mayor’s town!
The next twenty four hours or so were spent relaxing, decompressing. This afternoon, I walked back over to Yonge and Davisville. The new Sobey’s is up and running and The Liz is gone. Long Live The Liz!
I actually entered the subway, the plan being to head up to Eglinton, then hit the beer store and grocery store. Waiting for the train, I remembered that I want to see the Joy Division movie Control. An article in NOW gave it a bad review, but gave a documentary called Joy Division a great review. A friend of mine I trust highly recommended Control, so I left the subway and hit the video store back up on the street.
A girl stopped me and very, VERY shyly asked me a question. Her English was broken, and she was a close talker. So close in fact I thought she was trying to kiss me. That wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, she was young and white and cute. She asked me if she could ask a question. I always think “you already have” when people say that, but said “yeah sure, go ahead!” as I stepped backwards, hands making sure my wallet was in a secure location. After giving her directions to Davisville subway station “Cross the street and turn left.” she said “I’m sorry, I’m not from America.”
At first it seemed cute and a little flattering, the “Junior” part being dropped from my country for a change. But then I wondered if she had meant “don’t be afraid of me, I’m not a gangsta.” Or was she so lost she was enquiring about a subway stop in South Dakota or something. I can’t wait for the automated voice to say “Iowa is the next stop. The next stop will be Des Moines.” Next time I’m wiped out on acid, cruising the TTC for kicks. Maybe she was just stoned.
There was no sign of Joy Division, and all copies of Control were out. Once again, the movie “Super High Me” looked like it would be entertaining for about 90 seconds, and I nearly picked up that Bob Dylan movie, “I’m Not There”. I once again toyed with renting it, but came to my senses when I read an extra feature as being “on screen lyrics” or something. Dumb it down to the bouncing ball! One of the reasons I hate Dylan is one of the reasons I hate potheads, and for that matter Jesus Freaks who go to events like Ryan Dan. These fuckers are positive they have all the answers, and all of life’s riddles can be rolled up and answered with one simple truth. I don’t believe that we weren’t put on this planet to dumb ourselves down, and I don’t believe that we were put on this planet to become slaves to mind numbing drugs like Bob Dylan or marijuana or Jesus Christ.
Too many good people have been turned into zombies by those mind crippling substances. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t put Jesus, Dylan or even the potheads in front of a firing squad. Instead, I put them on the other end of the gun and make them the shooting squad. I’d supply the ammo at Shoot The Freak. Free unlimited paintballs for all three freaks, the most respectable person being The Freak himself!
Oh well, another weekend has come and soon will be gone forever as well, and still the Giant Lenin Head remains elusive!
A huge and hugely weird group of people were lined up in front of us, somewhat shielding us from the jubilant Turks. Apparently they won a soccer match in Europe or something. There were about four vehicles, fourty seven Turkish flags, and they kept circling. If any country in the world wins anything anywhere and its summertime in Toronto, the flags and horns will be out.
Tanzania crowned tiddlywinks champs of south east Africa? Check. Nicaragua wins the title of the Latin American cockroach stamping championship? Yonge Street will be jammed up with revelers dancing la cucaracha from Queen to Eglinton. All of these impromptu celebrations are great of course, with the exception of Caribana. Avoid that like the plague. Leave town if possible. One year I escaped to someplace safer, downtown Detroit. This is the absolute truth gentle readers!
Anyway, we tried to figure out what the strange group of people passing by on their way into The Music Hall was going to see. Somebody used their Blackberry. Then we actually spoke to someone and asked them. They repeated the name of the act a couple of times, but we still weren't clear. "Opera? Pop?" I thought of pretending to be security and asking to see someone’s tickets, just to find out who was playing. The procession of ticket holders seemed to be a weird Christian crowd, as they all had that "just shot up with God" look. There’s only one thing that can make one’s eyes that glossy and empty, especially en masse. The God Drug scourge strikes again!
After finally looking it up, it turns out to be some jackass identical twins calling themselves Ryan Dan. They're probably big with the American Idol crowd or something. Somewhere there must be a shoe shiner counting his tips and thanking his lucky “Stars”. I hear former Star Search host Ed McMahon filed for bankruptcy recently. “Broke-oh!”
We hit a bar at Yonge and Davisville on the way home, and it stunk worse than our green bin. It was SO stinky in there that I broke my rule about leaving a bar after only one drink. More soccer though, they had a framed Ally McCoist jersey upstairs.
We noticed a display of bongs in the window of the convenience store around the corner. One of them was soccer themed, a “futbol “being the base. I nearly went in to buy it, or see it, hold it in my hands, I don’t partake of the 4:20, but it was just that bizarre! Ricky can you hear me? Anyway, a soccer bong is far more acceptable than a soccer mom in This Mayor’s town!
The next twenty four hours or so were spent relaxing, decompressing. This afternoon, I walked back over to Yonge and Davisville. The new Sobey’s is up and running and The Liz is gone. Long Live The Liz!
I actually entered the subway, the plan being to head up to Eglinton, then hit the beer store and grocery store. Waiting for the train, I remembered that I want to see the Joy Division movie Control. An article in NOW gave it a bad review, but gave a documentary called Joy Division a great review. A friend of mine I trust highly recommended Control, so I left the subway and hit the video store back up on the street.
A girl stopped me and very, VERY shyly asked me a question. Her English was broken, and she was a close talker. So close in fact I thought she was trying to kiss me. That wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, she was young and white and cute. She asked me if she could ask a question. I always think “you already have” when people say that, but said “yeah sure, go ahead!” as I stepped backwards, hands making sure my wallet was in a secure location. After giving her directions to Davisville subway station “Cross the street and turn left.” she said “I’m sorry, I’m not from America.”
At first it seemed cute and a little flattering, the “Junior” part being dropped from my country for a change. But then I wondered if she had meant “don’t be afraid of me, I’m not a gangsta.” Or was she so lost she was enquiring about a subway stop in South Dakota or something. I can’t wait for the automated voice to say “Iowa is the next stop. The next stop will be Des Moines.” Next time I’m wiped out on acid, cruising the TTC for kicks. Maybe she was just stoned.
There was no sign of Joy Division, and all copies of Control were out. Once again, the movie “Super High Me” looked like it would be entertaining for about 90 seconds, and I nearly picked up that Bob Dylan movie, “I’m Not There”. I once again toyed with renting it, but came to my senses when I read an extra feature as being “on screen lyrics” or something. Dumb it down to the bouncing ball! One of the reasons I hate Dylan is one of the reasons I hate potheads, and for that matter Jesus Freaks who go to events like Ryan Dan. These fuckers are positive they have all the answers, and all of life’s riddles can be rolled up and answered with one simple truth. I don’t believe that we weren’t put on this planet to dumb ourselves down, and I don’t believe that we were put on this planet to become slaves to mind numbing drugs like Bob Dylan or marijuana or Jesus Christ.
Too many good people have been turned into zombies by those mind crippling substances. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t put Jesus, Dylan or even the potheads in front of a firing squad. Instead, I put them on the other end of the gun and make them the shooting squad. I’d supply the ammo at Shoot The Freak. Free unlimited paintballs for all three freaks, the most respectable person being The Freak himself!
Oh well, another weekend has come and soon will be gone forever as well, and still the Giant Lenin Head remains elusive!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Get Thee to a nunnery
Nearly every weekday morning, i listen to Benmurgui in the morning on JAZZ FM. This morning Ralph and his sidekick, a cat who calls himself Jaymz Bee brought up the old "men think of sex every 52 seconds" deal.
Mr. Bee is one of those cats who i really don't think he has done anything at all with his life. He's had a couple of very mediocre bands over the years, a Spinal Tap rip-off, if you can believe it, called Guelph, and the most notorious being The Look People. The Look People stuck their noses in the air and forbade the sun from shining on us simpletons when they released such inspired insights as "Everyone Is Looking for a Job That Doesn’t Suck". Earth shattering stuff, i know.
He now conducts "Jazz Safaris". i suppose he is Toronto's answer to Buster Pointdexter. Professional partygoer, but not a party The Mayor needs or even wants to be at.
Anyway, Ralph and Jaymz played off one another for a while. Jaymz was being prudish, disbelieving the facts. Up until this morning, i've believed that Mr. Bee saves his stinger for other boy bees. The topic changed to "the arts report" or some such nonsense, with a brief mention of Bjork. Afterwards, Benmurgui asked Bee if he had thought about sex during his report.
Bee said "Well I have to admit, the name Bjork did certain things for me."This confused me all to hell. Is Bee straight or gay? And if he is gay, but gets stirred about Bjork, what the hell does that say about me? You know how i feel about Her!
i'm pretty sure i'm not gay, because a hot woman from marketing came into our department and ate a Timbit. i've been watching a bit of porn these days, so i know the fake look of pleasure on a woman's face. Her enthusiasm for the donut was NOT fake, and i think I have a bruise on my chin from it hitting the floor.
Remember those kids in high school that got all kinds of attention from the teachers, but nobody could figure out why? Bee and his cohorts are what becomes of those kids when they leave school. Child minds in adult bodies.
i picked up the NOW today, as i do most Thursdays. I actually think that it is a better paper than The Village Voice. i know, i know, you can’t say anything bad about that paper, and you can’t name your band Dead Kennedys The Voice strikes me as a pretentious wank fest, a stuffy pair of panties networking for a pair of tickets to Leonard Cohen or Lou Reed.
Opening up the NOW box, i discovered a mess. All sorts of glossy slick publications mixed in with my usual low-rub soy ink diet of "street sense". i pulled out a virgin copy, and to my own surprise, i felt like Britney "doing it again" as a slick playbill sized booklet slipped out of my newspaper. The woman eating the Timbit, the slick fake porn, both aroused the same emotions in me.
i headed across the street for sandwiches and beer. After scoring both, i took a seat and waited, and waited, for the TTC to take me home. i listened to the vast majority of the new Weezer disc, which isn't that bad, and enjoyed the niceweather.
Entering the bus, i noticed a woman, as i’m sure everyone else did. She was sitting in the back row, middle seat, wearing a short skirt with legs spread. Her crotch was the pins at the end of the bus's bowling alley. i practically had to be a trapeze artist while crawling over her legs in order to get a seat. She was quite polite and seemed to be well educated, but why she insisted on showing her panties to everyone entering the bus remains a mystery to me.
Trust me though; the unpleasant acrobatics were worth it. If i don't get a seat on the 11 bus, i am likely to commit homicide. i'd rather listen to The Carpenters than stand on the 11 bus!
i thought about how funny it would be to mail the Pride Guide to someone on the way home. What smiles, what yucks. Then i actually got home and looked at the guide. It's corporate nonsense, nothing but advertising by big, BIG companies. i hearken back to Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine "Get me the dirty stuff too, none of that airbrushed horseshit!" or something.
There's a big story going around in NASCAR this week about "The King", Richard Petty selling his empire to big corporate interests. Petty's results on the track have been horrendous since before Jeff Gordon or Dale Jr. were in high school. The corporate money is only going to prolong the slow death of the Petty legacy. Give me the dirty old days, the fist fights, the blood, sweat and beers. The peep holes, the glory holes, the baths and steam houses, The Dirty Boulevard.
Don’t make me dust off my Burroughs novels!
Mr. Bee is one of those cats who i really don't think he has done anything at all with his life. He's had a couple of very mediocre bands over the years, a Spinal Tap rip-off, if you can believe it, called Guelph, and the most notorious being The Look People. The Look People stuck their noses in the air and forbade the sun from shining on us simpletons when they released such inspired insights as "Everyone Is Looking for a Job That Doesn’t Suck". Earth shattering stuff, i know.
He now conducts "Jazz Safaris". i suppose he is Toronto's answer to Buster Pointdexter. Professional partygoer, but not a party The Mayor needs or even wants to be at.
Anyway, Ralph and Jaymz played off one another for a while. Jaymz was being prudish, disbelieving the facts. Up until this morning, i've believed that Mr. Bee saves his stinger for other boy bees. The topic changed to "the arts report" or some such nonsense, with a brief mention of Bjork. Afterwards, Benmurgui asked Bee if he had thought about sex during his report.
Bee said "Well I have to admit, the name Bjork did certain things for me."This confused me all to hell. Is Bee straight or gay? And if he is gay, but gets stirred about Bjork, what the hell does that say about me? You know how i feel about Her!
i'm pretty sure i'm not gay, because a hot woman from marketing came into our department and ate a Timbit. i've been watching a bit of porn these days, so i know the fake look of pleasure on a woman's face. Her enthusiasm for the donut was NOT fake, and i think I have a bruise on my chin from it hitting the floor.
Remember those kids in high school that got all kinds of attention from the teachers, but nobody could figure out why? Bee and his cohorts are what becomes of those kids when they leave school. Child minds in adult bodies.
i picked up the NOW today, as i do most Thursdays. I actually think that it is a better paper than The Village Voice. i know, i know, you can’t say anything bad about that paper, and you can’t name your band Dead Kennedys The Voice strikes me as a pretentious wank fest, a stuffy pair of panties networking for a pair of tickets to Leonard Cohen or Lou Reed.
Opening up the NOW box, i discovered a mess. All sorts of glossy slick publications mixed in with my usual low-rub soy ink diet of "street sense". i pulled out a virgin copy, and to my own surprise, i felt like Britney "doing it again" as a slick playbill sized booklet slipped out of my newspaper. The woman eating the Timbit, the slick fake porn, both aroused the same emotions in me.
i headed across the street for sandwiches and beer. After scoring both, i took a seat and waited, and waited, for the TTC to take me home. i listened to the vast majority of the new Weezer disc, which isn't that bad, and enjoyed the niceweather.
Entering the bus, i noticed a woman, as i’m sure everyone else did. She was sitting in the back row, middle seat, wearing a short skirt with legs spread. Her crotch was the pins at the end of the bus's bowling alley. i practically had to be a trapeze artist while crawling over her legs in order to get a seat. She was quite polite and seemed to be well educated, but why she insisted on showing her panties to everyone entering the bus remains a mystery to me.
Trust me though; the unpleasant acrobatics were worth it. If i don't get a seat on the 11 bus, i am likely to commit homicide. i'd rather listen to The Carpenters than stand on the 11 bus!
i thought about how funny it would be to mail the Pride Guide to someone on the way home. What smiles, what yucks. Then i actually got home and looked at the guide. It's corporate nonsense, nothing but advertising by big, BIG companies. i hearken back to Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine "Get me the dirty stuff too, none of that airbrushed horseshit!" or something.
There's a big story going around in NASCAR this week about "The King", Richard Petty selling his empire to big corporate interests. Petty's results on the track have been horrendous since before Jeff Gordon or Dale Jr. were in high school. The corporate money is only going to prolong the slow death of the Petty legacy. Give me the dirty old days, the fist fights, the blood, sweat and beers. The peep holes, the glory holes, the baths and steam houses, The Dirty Boulevard.
Don’t make me dust off my Burroughs novels!
MexiCana thunder storms
These storms from the last couple of weeks remind me of the stuff we experienced down in Mexico. The light, the sound, the winds, the suddenness of it...
i remember our trip to Chichen Itza. On the bus on the way back to Cancun, dropping people off at different hotels, it started storming just like it is now. We pulled into one hotel which was flying all kinds of different countries flags. The fag couple who we made friends with were admiring the flags, and noticing the order in which they were taken down. The US was first, followed by Japan, Germany, whatever.
"Which one is yours?" they asked.
"The red and white one with he leaf in the middle. I bet they take it down last."
And it WAS taken down last! Somehow that made us proud. We're tough man, our flag can withstand a little drizzle, and we don't need to be pampered like The Stars and Stripes.
The fags were really good guys, we shared a few laughs and a few drinks.
i remember our trip to Chichen Itza. On the bus on the way back to Cancun, dropping people off at different hotels, it started storming just like it is now. We pulled into one hotel which was flying all kinds of different countries flags. The fag couple who we made friends with were admiring the flags, and noticing the order in which they were taken down. The US was first, followed by Japan, Germany, whatever.
"Which one is yours?" they asked.
"The red and white one with he leaf in the middle. I bet they take it down last."
And it WAS taken down last! Somehow that made us proud. We're tough man, our flag can withstand a little drizzle, and we don't need to be pampered like The Stars and Stripes.
The fags were really good guys, we shared a few laughs and a few drinks.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
i'm browsing the paper, drinking coffee and eating a delicious breakfast sandwich that would give a lesser man a heart attack! One of the qualifications for entering The Mayor's "inner circle" is being able to chomp one of these suckers and not drop dead. Granted, they used to be a tad bigger,using a bagel instead of bread, but we are living in more modest times. Perhaps i will call it "TheRecesswich".
i've also got The Golden Compass playing on the TV in the other room. Kidman looks out of this world gorgeous, talking monkeys and bears, man, this could be the film that finally convinces me to drop acid!
Speaking of being on acid, today is going to be the day i rediscover The Giant Lenin Head on the east side of town. Vladdy has been taunting me for a long time now, and i just might release the Cuban cigar that's been imprisoned inside a plastic tube and taunt Fidel's deadhead comrade.
i've also got The Golden Compass playing on the TV in the other room. Kidman looks out of this world gorgeous, talking monkeys and bears, man, this could be the film that finally convinces me to drop acid!
Speaking of being on acid, today is going to be the day i rediscover The Giant Lenin Head on the east side of town. Vladdy has been taunting me for a long time now, and i just might release the Cuban cigar that's been imprisoned inside a plastic tube and taunt Fidel's deadhead comrade.
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