The HBDC Virtual Tour Stops in Ottawa (2)

Welcome back to the second day of our tour of the capital of Canada, Ottawa. I've lived here for well over 40 years, so I know many of the highlights (and lowlifes) of both Ottawa and Gatineau. For example, when I was much younger I would cross the border to haunt some of the late night bars with other lowlifes on the Quebec side of the border in what, prior to amalgamation, was once known as Hull. Then they razed the bars and built office towers in which I worked in as an adult! Such is progress. For both the landscape and me!

HIGHLIGHTS
The Ottawa region is truly one of the most beautiful places on earth. The canal, bike paths and greenbelt (a ring of undeveloped land around the city) add to the natural majesty of the region. Museums, art galleries, world-class restaurants, an NHL team, the National Arts Center and blues, jazz and folk festivals provide just some of the options for entertainment.

In the region, there’s something for every season. In the spring it’s a magnificent display of tulips along the parkway next to the canal. Our tulip tradition started when the Dutch government gave Ottawa 100,000 tulip bulbs after the Second World War as thanks for offering safe haven to their exiled royal family. The Dutch didn't give us Canada geese but we have lots of those too!


In the summer, there are the ruins and gardens at Mackenzie King estates near Chelsea, Quebec. William Lyon Mackenzie King, Canada’s 10th prime minister, had a passion for architecture and gathered a collection of picturesque ruins from across Canada and abroad. He bequeathed his estate to the nation when he died. Mackenzie King was also highly eccentric and had another passion: communing with spirits, including those of Leonardo da Vinci, Sir Wilfred Laurier, his dead mother and several of his Irish Terrier dogs, all named Pat. Hard to imagine that this guy was Canada’s longest serving prime minister, not to mention the longest serving leader in the British Commonwealth. When they say he had a thing for spirits one wonders if they came from another world or a another bottle.

And in the fall, there’s the turning leaves in Gatineau Park, or a picturesque covered bridge in nearby Wakefield, Quebec.



OUT OF THE ORDINARY
There’s something else that Canada’s capital is famous for. Something that isn’t widely known. It’s the home of the Elvis Sighting Society. It's members apparently believe Elvis is still alive and lives in the cottage community of Tweed about 90 miles west of Ottawa. The Society resides at Moe Atallah’s Newport Restaurant in the city's west end. The Society is actually a charitable organization helping the less fortunate across the city. But the Newport is filled with Elvis photos and memorabilia and if you want a great “greasy spoon" breakfast - and for under $5 - the Newport is the place to go. In recognition of the Society and the Newport, the small lane behind the restaurant has been officially dubbed "Elvis Lives Lane" by Ottawa City Council. I think Moe missed a perfect opportunity in not naming his restaurant “A Hunka Hunka Burning Stove”!

And so concludes our little glimpse of where I live. And as we wave bye, bye to Bytown I leave you with this observation. It's unfortunate Mackenzie King died when he did. He would have loved being a member of the Elvis Sighting Society!

July 1 & 2 the HBDC virtual road trip hits Maine where Debbie Does Drivel has been waiting patiently to show you all around. Who knows, maybe she'll spring for some lobster ayuh!

The HBDC Virtual Road Trip Stops In Ottawa

Welcome to the latest stop on the Humor Bloggers Dot Com virtual road trip. It’s been a long haul getting here, beginning almost a month ago in the city we Canadians all love to hate – Toronto. Or, as the locals there say “Trawnta”. Check out the right-hand column over there to see where the tour has traveled thus far. and then, sit back, put your feet up. And for the next little while enjoy the sights associated with the jewel of our nation, its capital.

The National Capital Region includes Ottawa, Ontario - Canada’s capital - and neighbouring Gatineau on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River. I live in western Gatineau in a community known as Aylmer, a stone’s throw from Parliament Hill, the seat of government. They call it the seat of government after the asses that run our country. And as for throwing stones, I’ve tried but the rocks I heave always fall short. But I digress.

Aylmer is a microcosm of our nation where Francophones (60%) and Anglophones (40%) live in peace and harmony and in two languages. During the day Aylmer is a quiet, sleepy, bedroom community of the region best known for its network of bike paths, its many golf courses and its picturesque marina.

But at night the Anglophone population triples as young Ontarians pour across the border to imbibe until the bars and strip clubs close at 3 am. Or at least they sure did when I was young and living in Ontario.

HISTORY
The region was first populated by the Algonquin First Nation. Indeed, they’ve recently submitted a land claim to the federal government for the rights to the Ottawa River watershed. Good luck with that! When the Europeans happened on the scene in the early 1800s they turned the Gatineau and Ottawa Rivers into a booming timber transportation network, so Ottawa was initially a lumber town. In the 1830s Colonel John By and thousands of French Canadians and Irish immigrants completed the Rideau Canal – a secure water network from Kingston, Ontario to Montreal, Quebec which avoided the St. Lawrence Seaway and proximity to the Americans. The city where he settled was first called Bytown. Now just the Byward Market bears his name. Steps from Parliament Hill, the Market excels at local produce and trendy restaurants, bars and nightclubs.

The Canal the Colonel built is now known as the World’s Largest Skating Rink. Winnipeg, Manitoba - not content to be known for Portage and Main, the coldest intersection in the world - stole our title of “longest” skating rink last year, one we’d held since 1971. Now we call it the "largest" skating rink in the world 'cause ours is wider than Winnipeg's.

In 1857, Queen Victoria named Ottawa Canada’s capital after which Ottawa’s chief industry was forever changed to the manufacturing of red tape. In modern day, the federal bureaucracy has a run for its money with the hi-tech industry as the region’s largest employer. So much so, the region has been nicknamed “silicon valley north.” (Gee I didn’t realize Ottawa played a role in the development of breast implants.)

And on that point (pun intended) we'll take a break and resume our little tour of the Ottawa area tomorrow. Highlights include a tale of 2 Kings: a paranormal Prime Minister and the royalty of rock! Come on back, eh?

Sunday Funnies

*Note: Due to a technical glitch this post should have posted June 28th. Sorry for the inconvenience.

In a bit of a departure, this week Sunday Funnies takes a look at how the editorial cartoonists, over the years, treated the self-proclaimed King of Pop, Michael Jackson. Here's a bit of a different retrospective of Jackson, who died Thursday at the age of 50.

The Dangling Conversation

There's a debate underway in my household between my wife and I. I say "underway" because it hasn't quite reached the "raging" stage. If you want raging, my wife (a Francophone) and I (an Anglophone) from time to time (usually in a weak moment of my own making) slip into our number one discussion around why we don't speak more French at home - ergo - when am I, a former public servant who learned French at the expense of our gracious taxpayers and was technically rated bilingual (even though I hardly used it), going to improve my use of Canada's other language? This one never gets resolved, hence it's ongoing nature.


But the current debate is over a remark I casually made the other day. I'm no geek, but with a lot of time on my hands I surf the web, converse on Facebook and such and - I have to admit - "I'm nonamedufus and I'm a Twitterholic". In an epiphany-like moment I was struck by the apparent impact of social networking technology on our everyday lives and I said something to the effect that "Gee, do you ever stop and think that technology now defines us generationally more than age does?"


My point was that social networking technology crosses all ages from tweens to the blue rinse set. And, if you think about it, it kind of started with things like radio, followed by television, then colour television, the Internet, e-mails, Facebook and now Twitter. These things weren't confined to one age group but used by all.


The number of seniors who use Facebook, for example, continues to grow. Hell, they even have their own groups. The two I joined are called "I am too old for Facebook - But I Don't Care" and "Unlike 99.9% of the Facebook population, I was born in the 50s". But while Facebook wasn't invented by or intended for Senior Citizens, nevertheless its users cross all generations.


Now my wife's position in this discussion (notice I avoided the term "argument') is not contrary to mine. Rather it's tangential. (Now, you know why our arguments are ongoing - nobody ever remembers the original premise!) Her position is that social networking technology is really anti-social networking technology. Why? The advent of e-mail MySpace, Facebook, Twittering and texting has discouraged face-to-face discussion, chiefly, in addition to a deterioration of our youth's spelling abilities as they "txt" to their "bff"s and in many instances replaces accuracy with opinion.


All good points, with which I hasten to agree. But slightly off the mark from the original premise.


I think I'll e-mail her and let her know!

Gone Fishin'

I'm off for the wilds of near Northern Ontario for the next little while to get in a little fishin'. It's our annual trip to Lake Temagami and hopefully more than the mosquitos are biting. In the meantime, through the magic of post-dated articles, I've left a few humourous morsels for you. In particular, tune in Monday and Tuesday June 29th and 30th as the Humour Blogger Dot Com Virtual Tour rolls into Ottawa and I get to guide you around our nation's capital region. Mounties and tulips and politicians - oh my! In the meantime, Happy Canada Day and for my American friends Happy July 4th and I'll see you in a week or so.

When Celebrities Go Bad

The social networking phenomenon known as Twitter has its good side and bad side. The good side has been evident over the last several weeks as a social networking platform few know about has become basically the only way for protesting Iranians to let the rest of the world know just what is going on in their country - a country where the state has taken control of every other technology.

The dark side? That's exposed everytime celebrities tweet. Now remember twittering is limited by 140 characters of text. In the hands of many celebrities that's 140 characters too many!

We've all heard of Ashton Kutcher - Mr. Demi Moore - and his over one million followers. I admit I'm one of them but for the life of me following @aplusk is like watching Star Trek, where no intelligent life form exists.

Then there's Oprah. Just her name generates followers both on and off Twitter. An assistant periodically provides vapid comments in Oprah's name.

Shaq, the friendly giant basketballer tweets and on a daily basis demonstrates hus sub par IQ and illiteracy. Shudda stayed in school big guy.

GaryJBusey purports to be Gary Busey but his tweets are actually funny. Here's a couple...

Build a man a fire, and he'll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.

Without nipples, breasts would be pointless

It's rumoured Jennifer Aniston broke up with John Mayer because he basically has a Twitter addiction. He is a prolific tweeter. Here's one of his...

I've been thinking about time travel a lot lately. You have "when" and "where". The when moves through the where, which stays still.

John's been working nights in the studio on a new album. Get some sleep John.

One of the most obnoxious celebrity tweeters is Kirstie Alley. Last week she sent roughly 40 tweets in an hour documenting her workout, or what she termed her "Tworkout". Isn't that cute? No wonder she has problems keeping followers...

who is up late for late chat with crazy bitch

YAY...FINALLY GET TO TALK TO YOU...WHEW..CRAZY FUN DAY...i missed you all so much...my new GIANT family..not like MANSON...lol

Dwight Howard is an all star basketball player who plays for the Orlando Magic. The Magic lost the championship in 5 games to the LA Lakers. What's on Howard's mind these days?

ok i wanna go on snl any ideas lol on wut i should do. or yall tell me some skits for my website

Petermansbdridge purports to be the well known Canadian broadcaster who delivers the nightly news on the CBC's The National. In reality it's some smart alec having him on. Here's one of his tweets from last week...

Looks like (he) made it! RT @scroll "happy birthday to Barry Manilow!"

If nothing else many of these tweets are entertaining. And whether you laugh with these celebrities or at them at least you laugh. But having followed these twits for some time now I can best sum up their impact by paraphrasing Mark Twain:

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool, than to tweet and remove all doubt.

US and Them #8

People are still talking about the Kung Fu-like reflexes President Obama displayed last week when, in the midst of a television interview, he delivered a fatal blow to a frisky fly. I for one admire the guy. The incident reminded me of a childhood reaction of mine and my buddies to annoying flies. We used to try and catch the buzzing buggers in our hands, shake our clenched fists and then watch them try to fly away with often times hilarious results. The trick to this is to actually catch the fly first and I never could. When I saw the video of Obama I yelled, “He da man, he da man!

I mean, how cool is that. The supreme leader of the free world has ninja-like moves that put Chuck Norris to shame. Right on. But the President’s predatory prowess didn’t sit well with everyone. PETA, those putzes for the ethical treatment of animals, condemned the President. In a news release they said:

“We support compassion even for the most curious, smallest and least sympathetic animals,” PETA spokesman Bruce Friedrich said. “We believe that people, where they can be compassionate, should be, for all animals.”

To push their point they sent him something called a “Katcha Bug Humane Bug Catcher”. I tell you his moves sure wouldn’t have the same impact if Obama had to stop mid-way through the interview with an “Oh, excuse me, I have to set my bug catcher trap”.

What’s up with PETA? What have they got against Obama for killing a fly? His predecessor, after all, tortured humans and we didn’t hear from them then.

And Canadians must be high on their watch list. Hell, we swat mosquitoes like they’re going out of style, in the hopes that they’ll soon go out of style.

Here in Canada, our Prime Minister doesn’t quite have the moves, or the approval rating, of the American President. In fact he’s gone in a totally different direction. On the Prime Minister’s web site, Stephen Harper promotes every week the adoption of stray pets.

This week’s lol cat is a 6 year-old neutered male named, wait for it, "Mr Lovebug". You can bet Harper won’t be swatting that “bug”!

Sunday Funnies/Happy Father's Day

There were several issues that caught the imagination of Canadian editorial cartoonists this week. The Iranian election, the game of chicken between the minority-governing Conservatives and the Opposition Liberals over the possibility of a Canadian summer election, and the travails of RIM co-founder Jim Basillie in his attempts to bring the Phoenix Coyotes to Hamilton, Ontario...

And it's Father's Day. If my Dad were alive he'd appreciate this. I inherited his warped sense of humour. Happy Father's Day, Dad.

On Being a Father...

Red Buttons

Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected.

Jimmy Piersal, on how to diaper a baby

Spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with you at bat. Then, fold second base down to home and set the baby on the pitcher's mound. Put first base and third together, bring up home plate and pin the three together. Of course, in case of rain, you gotta call the game and start all over again.

Ernest Hemingway

To be a successful father, there's one absolute rule: when you have a kid, don't look at it for the first two years.

Dancin' Fool

In the mid 60s "Freak Out", a double album, snuck onto the charts. It was the debut of Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention. The band has gone through considerable changes throughout the years and included such muscians as jazz violinist Jean-Luc Ponty and singers Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan from the Turtles who used the stage names "The Phlorescent Leech and Eddie". Dancin Fool is from yet another incarnation of the Mothers and off 1979's Sheik Yerbouti . The song is Zappa's commentary on the-then disco scene



Dont know much about dancin

Thats why I got this song

One of my legs is shorter than the other

and both my feets too long

course now right along with em

I got no natural rhythm

But I go dancin every night

Hopin one day I might get it right

Im a dancin fool, Im aDancin fool

I hear that beat;

I jump outa my seat,

But I can't compete,

cause Im aDancin fool, Im aDancin fool

The disco folks all dressed up

Like theys fit to kill

I walk on in and see em there

Gonna give them all a thrill

When they see me comin

They all steps aside

They has a fit while I commit

My social suicide,

Im aDancin fool, Im aDancin fool

The beat goes on

And Im so wrong

The beat goes on

And Im so wrong

The beat goes on

and Im so wrong

The beat goes on and Im so wrong

The beat goes on

and Im so wrong

I may be totally wrong,

but Im aDancin fool,

Im aDancin fool

Youwsa, youwsa, youwsaI got it all together now

With my very own disco clothes, hey!

My shirts half open, to show you my chains

and the spoon for up my nose

I am really somethin

Thats what you'd probly say

So smoke your little smoke

Drink your little drink

While I dance the night away,

Im aDancin fool, Im aDancin fool, (etc., etc.)

I may be totally wrong,

but Im a

I may be totally wrong, but Im a

I may be totally wrong, but Im a

Fool-uh!

Hey darlin...can I buy ya a drink?

Lookin for mister goodbar?

here he is...

Wait a minute...Ive got it...youre an italian!

Hah? Yer jewish?

Love your nails...you must be a libra...

Your place or mine?

The Muffin Man, the Muffin Man

If you were asked to caption this picture, what the hell would you say? Well, Chica over at
Lady Sarcasm (visit her blog; she's hilarious!) posed that question earlier this week.


I thought and I thought of what the heck I could come up with. I think my first attempt was along the lines of "Bob swore he'd never drop acid at Disneyland again". And guess what? It went over like a lead balloon. But I prevailed and it was my second attempt that vaulted me past all the other bloggers and into FIRST place!

"Gary's wish had come true. He really and truly was a stud muffin now."

And looky, looky at what I won: the coveted Kickass Captioner award! This is one of thee most distinguished awards in all of the interwebs. I shall display it with pride! Thanks, Chica.

This is my second award this week. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket!

Little Bit O' Soul

Garage rockin' one-hit wonders Music Explosion issued a great song in 1967 and quickly faded from sight. While, branded one of the early bubblegum musical groups, A Little Bit O' Soul was a catchy tune that hit #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 and earned Music Explosion a gold record. Highlights of this lip-synced performance include the drum-kit and the invisible organist...

Note to readers/listeners

This is the last 60s music post on nonamedufus. Tomorrow will be the final 70s post. But don't fear, I've created a music blog, accessible from the sidebar on this page called dufusdownbeat where I've moved all the musical content to.

dufusdownbeat is where you'll find my 60s and 70s weekly features as well as articles and clips from artists celebrating birthdays and other milestones and links to interesting music sites.

While humour and music remain my passions, I've merely decided to hive one off from the other and make each blog cleaner and more focused. I hope you enjoy the changes. And I hope you'll visit both sites. Thanks.

Poop Power

In this age of high gasoline prices and oil shortages one's mind often turns to a.s.e. - alternative sources of energy. In particular, we often hear the phrase "go green". But in this story a.s.e may well stand for ass source of energy. Read on to see how one community plans to "go brown".


In Manchester England they're tooting, make that touting, toilet power as the fuel of the future where the city's loos will help contribute to local gas supplies. Hey, mi gasa es tu gasa!

Two companies - United Utilities Group and National Grid - plan to turn a by-product of the wastewater treatment plant at Davyhulme in Manchester, northwest England into gas for the local gas network and fuel for a fleet of sludge tankers.


The companies have come up with one of the all-time greatest euphamisms for their product. In lieu of "shit" they're calling it "biomethane". Gee, next time I want to get out of doing the dinner dishes I'll say "Sorry, honey, I've just gotta run and pass some biomethane".


The companies are optimistic they'll be able to produce enough gas for about 500 homes by 2011. Hell, in college my buddies and I could produce that amount of gas just after several hours at the pub! Geez, my ex sister-in-law could heat her home all winter just by eating brussel sprouts once a week!


While the initiative is revolutionary, for some it may give new meaning to the phrase "waste not want not".



Having worked so hard to supply the raw materials, I wonder if Manchester's home-made gas suppliers will get a discount on their gas bills for their efforts.

Your Humble Award-Winning Braggart, er, ah, Blogger

I won another one. Yep. My blogging buds the Dyer Boys have bestowed upon me their prestigious "Twinsy". Who are the Dyer Boys?

As the boys, themselves, like to say on their blog: Philip (L) and Douglas (R) are self-described as "the funniest pair to come out of Louisiana since Britney Spears".

And here's my award:


This is the photo the boys ran:


And this was my line that they judged as "the least crappy caption" (way to build up a guy's confidence fellas!)

"Okay, we found the car. Has anyone seen 38 clowns?"

Thanks, Dyer Boys! The runners-up, or crappier captions, can be found here.

US and Them #7

There are few issues more controversial in Canada and around the world than the annual seal hunt that takes place in the waters and on the ice floes off Atlantic Canada.

The bloody images, the heated rhetoric, the impassioned defences all combine in a familiar rite that pits governments and sealers against animal rights groups.

So begins an article on CBC.ca . For years now the Canadian seal hunt has pissed off people around the world - including attention-seeking pop-star Paul McCartney and his ex-wife, the one-legged model (she said she was anti-sealing, but she didn't have a leg to stand on) - and groups from PETA (Putzes for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) to Greenpeace to the European Union.

Every year as seal hunters prepare for their annual cull, Canadians – known worldwide as those polite “eh” saying apologists - take a deep breath and don’t exhale until the seal hunt season is over. Why? They’re waiting for the latest global reaction that craps on Canada as a bunch of barbaric monsters. What once were exotic exports, some might say seal pelts have become the product of purloined perfidy. (Some, maybe, but I guess not many would put it in so many words.)

But not so fast Dudley Do-right. If you think the seal hunt is the epitome of egregious eradication and extinction (lots of Es, eh?) then you haven’t heard about the wild-goose chase, literally, going on in New York City.

It seems Mayor Bloomberg has a mad-on for mallards and has authorized the slaughter of all Canadian geese within a five mile radius of JFK and La Guardia airports. And you thought the seal hunt was a senseless slaughter? Federal Agricultural employees are expected to round up something in the area of 2,000 Canada geese and exterminate them using carbon monoxide. Yep, that’s right, the geese will be taken to a so-called “euthanasia center”, likely Mayor Bloomberg’s running limousine in the city hall garage. What? Isn’t that the most common method of death by carbon monoxide?

I don’t know what the feds intend to do with the carcasses, but unlike seal meat the geese won’t be used for human consumption. Hey, what about the homeless. They’ve gotta eat too!

Of course, the reason for the wild-goose chase is because migratory Canada geese have been blamed for the Jan. 15 downing of US Airways Flight 1549, which ditched in the Hudson River. Unluckily for the geese, geese feathers were found in the jet’s engines

As a Canadian who has suffered the rhetorical slings and arrows associated with the annual seal hunt it’s nice to see Americans getting a similar drubbing over, of all things, geese round-ups. But the round-ups (nice spin – sounds better than “bird kill”) aren’t the only approach. The city plans to post signs banning bird feeding in parks, and the Port Authority is expanding shotgun training of airport employees. Just what we need: surly airport employees with shotguns, trained to shoot to kill bird feeders!

You know, some might think this story to be a canard (ha, ha) but it is neither false nor about ducks. But it does remind me of the expression “It’s hard to fly like an eagle, when you keep getting sucked into a jet engine”!

Canada - Fewer Twits Per Square Mile

Hey, Yanks, don't go calling Canadians a bunch of twits. You know not of what you speak.

There are times I think I spend too much time on the computer. I spend considerable time on this blog, at HumorBloggers.com and reading the blogs of friends and cyber-colleagues as well as managing my Facebook page, listening to blip.fm, watching You Tube videos, sending and receiving e-mails, and sending and receiving "tweets" or Twittering.

Now I find Twitter kind of cool. You can follow colleagues, sports figues like NBA star Shaq, movie stars like Ashton Kutcher, Demi Moore and Kevin Spacey, recording artists such as John Mayer and Weird Al and late night talk-show hosts like Jimmy Fallon. You can even follow the musings, er, ah, tweets of...

Seems, however, that in the Twitter universe, at least, I'm a minority.

The Globe and Mail newspaper reported last week on the findings of a recent survey by the polling firm Ipsos Reid. They found that 1 in 100 Canadians use Twitter.

Moreover, said the Globe, the study polled 824 Canadian adults online and found that while 26 per cent of respondents are aware of Twitter, only 6 per cent of them had "actually spent some time coming up with witty 140-character messages". (Yeah, and if you ask me, considerably less than 2 per cent actually succeed in demonstrating how witty they are!) Astoundingly, this figure translates into about 1 per cent of the Canadian population. Amazing.

Now 824 people isn't much of a sample size. Nevertheless the survey would seem to portray the majority of Canadians as a bunch of techno-pesants. Six per cent of those polled had actually used Twitter? What provincial backwater, hole-in-the-wall are these people from? Have they been living under a rock? Don't they watch TV, read newspapers, browse the interwebs?

Say what? They have lives? Oh, never mind.

The Sunday Funnies

Well, the pickings were plentiful for Canadian editorial cartoonists last week. Natural Resources Minister Lisa Raitt, not content to leave secret documents behind in a TV studio felt her 15 minutes of fame needed to be extended and commented into a mistakenly recording tape recorder that the shortage of medical isotopes to help treat cancer patients was a "sexy issue" that would look good on her if she solved it. The same aide who lost the documents also lost the tape recorder that a reporter finally listened to after it sat in his office for 5 months. Gable of the Globe and Mail had some fun with this issue.

The fall out over North Korea's nuclear missile continued. The Ottawa Citizen's CAM had a unique perspective of the impact on the USA. CAM also had some fun with the hockey playoffs coming to a close.

We end the week with two portrayals of federal Transport and Infrastructure Minister John Baird. Somewhat of a pit bull at the best of times, Baird was overheard to say that
since the city of Toronto couldn't get its one application for funding under the $4 billion federal infrastructure program right, and was now "bitching" about a lack of co-operation from Ottawa, Toronto could "fuck off." Dewar of the Toronto Sun and Aislin of the Montreal Gazette must have thought they'd died and gone to heaven with such material to work with.

Who Were You Thinkin' Of?

Today "70s Saturday" takes a look at Tex-Mex. No, not burritos and enchilladas but the cantina-rock that really took hold in the 70s. One of the most famous figures of Tex-Mex was Doug Sahm who, in the 60s, founded the Sir Douglas Quintet. Many thought with a name like that the group was from Britian and while the name was chosen to cash in on the British invasion the group's members were from Texas and Mexico, including organist Augie Myers. Their memorable hit was She's About A Mover. This 60s clip is a hoot. Sahm sings and plays guitar.



The Quintet continued into the early 70s when they broke up. But in 1990 Doug and Augie formed what many refer to as a Tex-Mex Super group with Freddie Fender and Flaco Jimenez, the Texas Tornados. While this group began in the 90s, Doug Sahm had released albums as the Texas Tornados since the 70s. Here's a performace from the 1990s of one of my favourites: What Were You Thinking Of (When We Were Making Love)?




Sadly, Doug Sahm died in 1999 and fellow Tornado Freddie Fender passed away in 2006. But they left a lot of great music behind. Click on the links to learn more.

Creeque Alley

"Cue the Tape"

With those words Mama Cass broke the not-so best kept secret of the 60s. Most musical groups lip-synced their performances on the Ed Sullivan Show. The Mamas and the Papas certainly lip-synced this performance of Creeque Alley. Nevertheless it's a great performance of the group's 1967 #5 autobiographical hit. Thinking back to 67, a certain 15 year-old boy was totally smitten with Michelle Phillips. Oh, and the music wasn't bad either.

The Other Star Trek Prequel

This is the prequel that for some odd reason didn't make it to the big screen. Sincerest apologies to Gene Roddenberry and J.J. Abrams.

(Kirk voice over opening titles)
Kirk: Stardate 1964.5. The hall was full that night – a sell-out. The Stratford gig playing Henry V was good training to take me where no actor has gone before: doing future pitch work for, oh, I dunno, maybe Kellogg’s All Bran or priceline dot com.

(cut to Kirk on stage)
And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord,

That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,

Or nicely charge your understanding soul

With opening titles miscreate, whose right

Suits not in native colours with the truth...

(Spock arrives via transporter effect)
Spock: But, Captain, that would be illogical...indeed Shakespearian dialogue has always to me been illogical.

Kirk: Where in blazes did you come from? How did you just...appear?!

Spock: Well, Captain, I was reviewing some back issues of Popular Mechanics and...

Kirk: Never mind Spock. How about a spot of lunch? I told my buddy Bones I’d meet him for lunch at “Out of This World”. Want to join us?

Spock: Out of This World?

Kirk: It’s an intergalactic restaurant, Spock, where Starfleet commanders hang out. If we ever want to get ahead, this is the place to see and be seen.

(Spock let’s go with a deafening sneeze)
Kirk: Bless you, Spock. Here, use this handkerchief. You’ve got something dripping from your chin.

Spock: Thanks, Captain. I wouldn’t want anything to Klingon my face in public.

(fade to restaurant interior; Bones and Uhura are seated. Kirk and Spock enter from left)
Kirk: Bones I’d like you to meet Spock. Spock, Bones is a doctor.

Bones: And this is my friend Uhura, in from out of town.

Spock: How unusual, doctor.

Bones: How’s that Spock?

Spock: Your friend’s a whore, hah.

Kirk: U-hur-a, Spock, U-hur-a.

Spock: She’s not my whore, ah, she’s the doctor’s.

Bones: Never mind, Jim. Your green-blooded, pointy-eared friend, here, seems to have a one-track mind.

Spock: On the contrary, doctor, we Vulcans can keep several tracks going at once unlike lowly humans I might add.

Kirk: Alright you two, lighten up. Live long and prosper.

Spock: Hey, I like that Jim. Mind if I use it?

(a man and his wife, a little woozy from over-drinking, bump into the foursome’s table)
Scotty: Aye, excuse us there folks, we didn’t see ye there. I’m Scotty and this is my wife Charmin’.

Kirk: Hi Scotty. I’m Captain Kirk. Would you and your wife care to join us for a drink?

(Scotty points at Charmin’)
Scotty: Sorry, Captain, she can’t take anymore.

Bones: Say, Jim, I thought Sulu was joining us. He’s always one to inject a little gaiety into these gatherings.

Kirk: Indeed he does, Bones, indeed he does. But what about your friend Chekov, wasn’t he coming too.

Uhura: I’m afraid Chekov checked out Captain.

Kirk: How do you mean?

Bones: He’s dead, Jim.

(up Star Trek theme, roll credits, fade to black)

News You Can Misuse

In my younger days, in another life back in the late 70s, I used to work for an all news radio network. I worked two hours on the air, beginning at 6 pm, one off, and a final hour on that was taped to be repeated an hour later. I read the news at the top and the bottom of the hour and filled the rest of the time with either pre-recorded or live interviews. That was a lot of air time to fill and starting my shift in the evening meant most of the newsmakers of the day had already been interviewed by other anchors. What's a guy to do?

Well, this guy often turned to supermarket tabloids as a source for his research! I'd review several a day and start trying to track down the subjects of some of these outlandish stories to interview them.

According to Wikipedia, the oldest tabloid known to date is the American "Daily News" which originated in 1919. If it did not have any news, it would simply make it up and use a photograph staged by the newspaper staff. No, say it ain't so.

And believe me, the subjects of some of the interviews I did were absolutely unbelievable. I was reminded of this aspect of my long ago career the other day while I was standing in line at the check-out in the supermarket. As my gaze fell upon the racks of tabs it brought back warm and fuzzy memories. These days, however, things have changed. Now we have internet gossip tabs such as Gawker, TMZ and the King, er, Queen of Garbage Gossip Perez Hilton. But let's for a moment take a look at the gossip tabloids of the newsprint variety.

The National Examiner tells me Oprah is in a love triangle and that poor Stedman said "in a jealous rage: It's Obama or me!" Lord knows it must be true because there's enough of Oprah to go around apparently. I know this you see because I read in The Globe that "TV heavyweight Oprah Winfrey went on a diet earlier this year and actually GAINED weight, sources say. The talk show queen now tips the scales at 245 pounds - or more - according to experts, who fear she will never be slim again."

The Globe is also gushing about how Teddy Kennedy killed an innocent young girl (gee, she shouldn't have let Teddy drive), that "cougar" Katie Couric's getting ready to marry her 35 year-old boy toy, and that Judge Judy has had an amazing face-lift. Boy, I'm gonna get my money's worth this week!

But I gotta tell ya, my all time favourite trash tab is definately the Weekly World News. Why? Because it has a thing for aliens! That's right. Even though it has stopped publication you can still find sensational tales on the WWN's internet site. Where else can you read about a 600 foot long crop circle in the shape of a jelly fish on a British farm. Or delve into the fascinating fact that aliens helped the Indians defeat Custer (gives new meaning to the term little big man). And still in interplanetary news, they've apparently found Earth's twin and discovered that Mars traded with ancient Egypt.

And, dammit, you know these things are all true. After all, if you can't trust the publication that discovered Bat Boy then who can you trust?!

US and Them #6

Nothing affects Canadians and Americans more than a border issue. No, I’m not talking about the “tinder-box” free trade issue so unsubtly referred to as “Shop American” in the US. We’ll save commenting on that little cross-border relations gem for another time. I’m talking about a literal border crossing issue.

This issue has shades of the American Wild West. It has the two key opponents, at least: Cowboys and Indians.

At Cornwall, Ontario Canadian border guards vacated their offices and shut down the border crossing because they felt threatened by the Indians at Akwesasne. Akwesasne is an Indian reserve that is a jurisdictional nightmare. Not only does it straddle Canada on one side and the US on the other, but it also sits partially in Quebec, partially in Ontario and partially in New York State. Add the sovereign nation of Akwesasne into the mix and you’ve got more pepperonis than Italy’s pizza parliament.

pic Ottawa Citizen

The Canadian border personnel vacated their posts after negotiations with the Akwesasne Indians broke down on the issue of the Canadian government’s intention to arm their border guards. In an example of unintended irony, the Indians at Akwesasne threatened to storm the border offices, in armed insurrection, if the Canadian government carried through with its plans to arm the border guards there.

There are several odd things about this issue – beyond armed Indians. The American guards on the US side of the border are armed and have always been so yet no one has threatened to storm them. As well, this is the only place along the so-called world’s longest undefended border where anyone’s raised a stink about arming Canadian border guards.

Why is there a problem here? The Indians say having armed border guards on their land would infringe on their sovereignty. What they don’t say is it would also infringe on their highly lucrative operation of smuggling illegal cigarettes and other contraband across the border into Canada.

So that’s the Indians. The cowboys? Well, you be the judge. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the comment of – and I quote – “respected security and anti-terrorism expert...John Thompson, president of the Mackenzie Institute, a Toronto-based think-tank” as reported in the Ottawa Citizen. When asked ‘why don't militants at Akwesasne threaten confrontations with the Americans?’ Thompson replied "Because the Americans will shoot back."

**Postscript: On July 13 authorities re-opened the border crossing after moving the Canadian Customs booth off Mohawk land on Cornwall Island to the Canadian mainland on a temporary basis. The Customs agents are armed. The issue remains unresolved.

Stop! In The Name of Love

I came across an article at the Boston Globe's web site recently that made my hair stand on end and my, uh, ahem, male reproductive organ go limp. A young fella in Egypt, from a well-to-do family, fell in love with a "commoner" whom his parents forbade him to marry. To get back at his parents the guy grabbed a knife and sliced off his penis. Go-go gadget home vasectomy kit! Boy, I've heard of cutting off your nose to spite your face, but that's just a tad extreme.

But you know, for some of us (depraved and lacking in taste and political correctness) there's always a lighter side to these things. Well, certainly not for this poor fellow but there for the grace of God go the rest of us. But I got to thinking what fun a headline writer might have with this story.

For example:

Man Takes Future Into Own Hands


Man's Marriage Plans Cut Short


The Penis Less Mighty Than The Sword


Parents Against Relationship, Son Gets The Shaft


Spoil the Child, Spare Rod Required


Well Endowed Man Suffers Penis Envy


The Wedding's Off And That's Not All


Axes Bold As Love


Man Starts New Club - Members Wanted


I Did I it Cause I Can't Say I Do


Parents Stick Fork in Marriage, Son Sticks Knife in Member


There's a lesson to be learned here for parents everywhere. Next time you forbid your son to marry his sweetheart hide the cutlery.

Sunday Funnies

This past week there were two dominant stories running in the Canadian media that kept editorial cartoonists busy. The federal Minister of Natural Resources left secret documents in - of all places - a network's parliamentary TV studio. Despite calls for her resignation she wasn't fired. Her 26 year-old political aide was. Meanwhile, General Motors filed for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy and through the American and Canadian federal governments taxpayers poured in millions of dollars to save it...

If You Wanna Get To Heaven...

The Lie-Clock

A man died and went to Heaven. As he stood in front of the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him. He asked, 'What are all those clocks?'

St. Peter answered, 'These are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie, the hands on your clock move.'

'Oh', said the man. 'Whose clock is that?' 'That's Mother Teresa's', replied St. Peter. 'The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie.'

'Incredible', said the man. 'And whose clock is that one?' St. Peter responded, 'that's Abraham Lincoln's clock: the hands have moved twice, telling us that Abraham told only two lies in his entire life.'

'Where's Brian Mulroneys clock?' Asked the man.

St Peter replied, 'Jesus has it in his office. He uses it as a ceiling fan.'
merci Leaman




Perils of a Catholic Upbringing

As I walked down the busy sidewalk, knowing I was late for Mass, my eye fell upon one of those unfortunate, homeless vagabonds that are found in every city these days.
Some people turned to stare. Others quickly looked away as if the sight would somehow contaminate them.

Recalling my old pastor, Father Mike, who always admonished me to 'care for the sick, feed the hungry and clothe the naked,' I was moved by some powerful inner urge to reach out to this unfortunate person.

Wearing what can only be described as rags, carrying every worldly possession in two plastic bags, my heart was touched by this person's condition.

Yes, where some people saw only rags, I saw a true, hidden beauty.

A small voice inside my head called out, 'Reach out, reach out and touch this person!'

So I did.......

I won't be at Mass this week.

merci Pierre

You Make Lovin' Fun

This week's "70s Saturday" showcases a group that owned the 70s - Fleetwood Mac. Originally a struggling British blues group experiencing moderate success, this incarnation with former duo Buckingham/Nicks (Lindsey and Stevie) took off into the stratosphere.

So many Fleetwood Mac songs feature Stevie Nicks on vocals but You Make Lovin' Fun features the other woman of the group, Christine McVie. She also wrote the song which was the fourth single issued from 1977's immensely popular album Rumours.

Da Doo Ron Ron

I've been singing the refrain to this week's 60s tune all week, so I figured why not feature it. A famous example of the Phil Spector "wall of sound" Da Doo Ron Ron by The Crystals was a 1963 smash hit, reaching #3 on Billbaord's hot 100. The song's been covered by everyone from The Carpenter's to Bob Dylan and a version by teen heart-throb Shaun Cassidy hit #1 in 1977 (hey, there's just no explaining some things). The Crystals, a defining example of the "girl group" movement in popular music, have a fascinating history which includes Spector-produced hits in the early 60s featuring different lead singers. Da Do Ron Ron features Dolores "LaLa" Brooks. A close listen (or look) at the lyrics makes you realize "Da Doo Ron Ron" could well be a euphamism much like Sienfeld's "yadda-yadda-yadda"!

I met him on a Monday and my heart stood still

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Somebody told me that his name was Bill

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Yes, my heart stood still

Yes, his name was Bill

And when he walked me home

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

I knew what he was doin' when he caught my eye

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

He looked so quiet, but my oh my

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Yes, he caught my eye

Yes, my oh my

And when he walked me home

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Picked me up at seven and he looked so fine

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Someday soon, I'm gonna make him mine

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Yes, he looked so fine

Yes, I'll make him mine

And when he walked me home

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Da doo ron ron ron da doo ron ron

Did You Hear The One About The Honest Politician? (It`s A Rhetorical Question)

In 1971, the Byrds sang I Wanna Grow Up To Be A Politician. These days, one has to ask one`s self: why? The song was a catchy tongue-in-cheek jab at the then current state of American politics. Richard "I am not a crook" Nixon was in the third year of his first mandate. The song was prescient in a way. Two years later Vice-President Spiro Agnew resigned amid charges of bribery, tax evasion and money laundering from his tenure as Maryland's governor. A year later, Nixon himself resigned rather than face certain impeachment over his role in Watergate.

Unfortunately, questionable activities and illegal acts have always been a part of politics. What's even more unfortunate is that they always will be.

Here in Canada several years back we went through the "sponsorship" scandal, undertaken by certain members of the then governing Liberal party. The taxpayer-funded kick-back scheme that funneled cash from the government to ad and marketing agencies and on to Liberal party coffers killed then Prime Minister Paul Martin at the polls, even though he was personally absolved of any involvement the stench of government corruption proved too much for Canadians to pinch their nose and vote. Martin had spent years in the wilderness of the Finance portfolio biding his time and keeping his ambition in check and then - bam - the electorate pulled the prime ministerial rug out from under his feet.

In Britain, that country's answer to Paul Martin, Labour PM Gordon Brown, is about to see the same thing happen to him. In the UK however, taxpayers money didn`t go into Labour`s coffers. It went directly into Members` pockets! Two Ministers, the latest Wednesday, have resigned from Brown`s cabinet for expense irregularities, and many MPs say they won`t run for office again, after having been caught with their fingers in the cookie jar.

Labour has faced the brunt of voter anger against many MPs who have milked the allowances system, claiming from taxpayers the cost of everything from duck houses to cleaning a moat to the rental of porno movies.

You know a prerequisite for politics is having to be smart. But this bunch just isn`t smart enough. They keep getting caught.

Perhaps Roger McGuinn and the boys should have sang: I Wanna Grown Up To Be A Politician!

Displacement Activity

I used to have a boss who always used the phrase "displacement activity". She said that's what she called everything she did except for what she was supposed to be doing.

I dunno, I used to call it procrastination, but I had to admit "displacement activity" sounded better, more positive, reinforcing if you will.

She was of German heritage and the German phrase for displacement activity is Übersprungshandlung. Wow, a displacement activity might be just to spell that!

When you think about it, displacement activity is kind of like Attention Deficit Disorder for adults. But it's self-directed and you don't have to take drugs for it.

For example, over the last two days I've done everything but sit down to write this post. And I filled the time with displacement activities - one after another.

I made myself breakfast and showered. I paid bills. I watched the French Open. I cleaned the pool. I read a magazine. I visited a bunch of blogs. I trimmed my nose hairs. And I undertook a few other activities of lesser consequence. (After all, nose hair grooming is pretty important.)

So, here I am after a day and-a-half of displacement activity and...

...wow my toe nails are getting long.

A Popinjay With Feet Of Clay

What the hell is going on with tennis?


I've been watching some great matches for a week and-a-half now from the French Open at Roland Garros.


By the way, why did the French name a tennis stadium after a noted World War I aviator? What's up with that? Unless of course the stadium's founding fathers had the sweeping, dipping and looping camera angles that the French broadcasters practice in mind when they chose a dignitary after whom to name the place.


Sadly, in a huge upset, four-time French Open champion Rafael Nadal was defeated. Some 23rd seeded Swede (Robin Soderling) felled the mighty top-seeded player. And I think I know what happened.


At the French Open the reddish-orange clay courts stand out in stark contrast to the military green of the billboards and stadium. It's quite different from the grass at Wimbledon. But the clay isn't the only colourful thing at Roland Garros.


What the heck ever happened to "tennis whites", long the standard uniform of tennis professionals? I think things started to turn with the Williams sisters, Venus and Serena. When they hit the scene tennis fashion started to change. In fact, I think the reason they won so much early on in their careers was they knocked their opponents eyes out with the flashy cut and colour of their clothes!


These days, colourful tennis clothes are, to aptly use a french phrase, de rigour. And the colourful look has jumped genders and now men players are loud and proud. For example, France's Gael Monfils has been sporting a banana-yellow tank top, even brighter than the yellow tennis balls. Number 2 seed Roger Federer strutted with a sea-blue jersey. But the worst was the pink with yellow piping affair worn by Nadal. Why did he lose to the 23rd seeded player? Hell, he blinded himself!

US And Them #5

I was reading a news story recently about the value of the Canadian dollar (it was approaching par with it's American counterpart - a rare development) and I couldn't help but wonder if our currency is the laughing stock of international money markets. Not because of it's value, but because of it's name. Think about it. The Brits have their pound. The Japanese their yen and the Americans their dollar. But in Canada we have our "loonie". That's right, our dollar is named after a bloody bird - and not even an exotic one. Our currency is named after the common Canadian loon.

And it's not even paper; it's a coin. Which makes for heavy pockets and purses. Couple this with the fact that the Canadian $2 is only available in coin - it's called the "toonie" - Canada is a nation of men with droopy pants and women with bad backs. My wife recently cleaned out her change purse and found $35 in pennies, nickles, dimes, quarters, loonies and toonies. She's been happily walking upright ever since.

And what's with who we put on the face of our dollar? The Americans have a former president on theirs - an appropriate sign of respect for a past leader. Given what we call our currency, I don't think the same practice in Canada would be a sign of respect. But it might be accurate!