Mister Sloppy wishes you all a Joyous HannuKwanzaChristmas...

Mister Sloppy has asked me to convey to you a heartfelt "Merry Christmas!" Given his extensive rap sheet, ummm, history (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), we can only suggest that this sort of unbidden friendliness on his part suggests - strongly - that if you are anyone who carries a wallet, you should check your pants. Just to, ummm, confirm that said wallet is still in 'em.

Now that I consider that advice further, you should probably check your pants anyway. Just to confirm that you are still in 'em...

Mister Sloppy is that good.

Merry Christmas, everybody. And a happy New Year. May your holiday season be pantsful and free of evil-genius larceny. Unless, of course, you're into that.

Not just Il, but dead...

I know we're not supposed to speak, ummm, Il of the dead. Heh.

But i felt kind of inspired. So, here you go. I wasted untold minutes on this. It was very therapeutic.

Now, if you need me, I'll be in the fallout shelter...

Ottawahenge or Ottawagate?

Here's something odd...

On November 30, Trevor Pritchard over at Ottawa.openfile announced a photo contest for photos of the sun setting on Sparks Street to be taken between then and December 5. The prize for the winner would be $75 and a featured spot on their blog.

Early on December 5, Pritchard announced the contest deadline would be extended to December 9 because of cloudy weather.

Later on December 5, our own Coyote posted a photo of the sun setting on Sparks Street taken that day titled "A line runs through it". Coyote's photo shows no clouds in the sky and also shows no other photographers stationed on Sparks Street poised to capture the magic moment.

On December 12, Pritchard announced the deadline would be further extended to midnight on Jan. 13, 2012 because the weather has blanketed the downtown with overcast skies for most of the past two weeks but the sun will be back to setting in the perfect position on January 10.

Pritchard says Openfile has "a desperate need to give away $75", but I wonder how desperate they really are.

We all know Coyote won't actually take the money because it would mean revealing personal information like where he does his banking. But he'd love the attention.

Paging Councillor Bubbles

From the Agenda for next week’s meeting of the City of Ottawa’s Transportation Committee:

COUNCILLORS’ ITEMS

Councillor Tierney

5. ABANDONED SHOPPING CARTS ON CITY PROPERTY - MOTION

CITY WIDE

WHEREAS shopping carts from malls create a hazard and an eyesore when taken off store property and left on City property; and

WHEREAS, there have been numerous reports to 3-1-1 and Councillor’s offices in this regard resulting in the City spending countless hours and resources returning shopping carts to their respective stores; and

WHEREAS the Municipality of Mississauga currently has an existing Shopping Cart By-Law which the City of Ottawa could reference as a template;

THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED that the Transportation Committee direct staff to prepare a report for Q1 2012 to examine the costs and benefits of the City establishing a program to retrieve store carts from City property, including the option to bring them to the closest City yard for storage until such time as the respective store owner claims and picks up the carts, and establish a fee for the release of the carts to help offset the costs of the program.

Peter MacKay, still? Oh, what the heck...

Gregg: "Artifice is the kryptonite of public life..."

"We may all have the right to our opinions but we do not have the right to our own facts..."

More about that here in today's Great Gray Globe...

Ottawa - the place to run to

Great news for tourism in Ottawa today. Richard Lee McNair, formerly one of the top 15 fugitives wanted by US Marshalls, has praised Ottawa as one of the best places to be when on the run. [Citizen: American fugitive fell in love with Ottawa, new book reveals]

This is great news because the City can really use a new tourist demographic. We've cornered the regional market for grade eight students doing the annual tour of Parliament and visit to the Museum of Science and Technology, but let's face it, junior high school enrollment is not increasing.

Meanwhile, with the upcoming passage of the Omnibus Crime Bill and its mandatory minimum sentences, we should be seeing a huge upswing in fugitives from justice.

I'm wondering about attractions we can hold out for them. McNair rode the O-train, toured Carleton U, strolled Dow's Lake and the Rideau Canal and went for early morning jogs. It doesn't seem like museums and government buildings were a draw for him.

Any thoughts on what features of our fair town we can advertise or develop further to bolster this new tourist cohort?

[Update: I'm afraid news like this is not going to help.]

Peter Kent: Lost in the Ozone

Here I was, duct tape wadded round my snout to bung yet another frothy yowl on the political class. Although. Truthfully, dignifyin' 'em with the epithet "class" twists the facts awful hard. Screw it. Twisting fact has become their standard operating procedure.

Ergo I rant. Bear with me.

Back in Alberta, even now, remain fans of a last-century band of psychedelic rockabilly space cowboys called Commander Cody And His Lost Planet Airmen.

They're an acquired taste. And perhaps better known for other songs. But us coyotes wish to dedicate Lost in the Ozone Again to alleged federal environment minister Peter Kent.

Who didn't seem to be an idiot back when he read the news on TV. Shows what half-assed-decent research and scripting departments can do for a guy... and, whoopsy, there's my tradmark digression. Blink and ya miss it.

As a news person, Kent was about getting facts right. Now that he's federal environment minister, and so a front-row sock-puppet for the Stephen Harper Information Torquing machine, not so much.

Pete is lately pinned in the high beams of an expert advisor's memo that, ummm, pretty much negates his excuse for axing half of Environment Canada's critical ozone monitoring system. He says both parts are the same, so he'll cut one. Since Kent has so far not proven that he even knows what the hell ozone* is, this does not comfort. Especially since the actual, ummm, expert, is adamant there's no duplication: both form halves of a coherent whole.

Coherent? Can't have that! Whenever Harper Government spin faceplants against reality, the first instinct is to kill it, and the messenger, to remove any threat to his beeyootiful conservative ideomythology. It's Statistics Canada and the long form census all over again. Harperites don't seem to care how bush-league lame they look while they put the boots into reality. And citizens. And really, the whole planet.

* For the science-illiterate among our federal ministers, ozone is a type of oxygen molecule in the high atmosphere, that reflects a whole lot of the ultraviolet rays in raw sunlight. Which prevents people and other living things from suffering multiple horrible cancers whilst frying and dying from solar radiation. At least on my planet...

Ode to beavers

Who could ever forget the Elgin Street Irregulars' historic, heady foray into the (very likely lucrative, if we'd ever actually winched our notoriously incoherent act together...) BeaverBalls™ biz?

Yup, we've long reserved a warm spot for Castor canadensis and his charming, if strange, habits. Such as (allegedly) eating his own testicles when threatened.

So, it is with a certain, ummm, proprietorial disdain that we tee off to trash conservatory senator Nicole Eaton's (ev)ill-conceived proposal to replace Our Illustrious National Rodent with some polar bear.

If beavers were ever to actually chew off their own business to spit at somebody, they might wish to begin with Ms. Eaton.

Her cover story is that the Beav is a "dentally defective rat". We need barely slow down to point out that slagging rats places her in the position of badmouthing many sitting members of her party, before hitting the gas to note that the more plausible reason for her libel of our furry pal is that, while he's claimed squatters' rights to the national identity for centuries, he was only officially installed in 1975. Under, you guessed it, Pierre Trudeau's Liberals.

It takes no genius to see that the focus of the Harper Government™®© since gaining its coveted strong stable majority™®© ain't so much the stupid economy as tearing down, stomping, burning, shooting and pissing on any and all things liberal. And calling it nation building. ™®©.

So despite the senator's cutesy persiflage, we can, ummm, probably agree that this is one more case of these guys' systematic scorched-liberal policy, as they try to replace all those inconvenient decades of collective national memory with (yet more) crap, artfully spin-doctored from the whole cloth.

Do I have to stoop to quoting literary classics, like some intellectually-bankrupt Ottawa Citizen columnist? Yes? Crap. Okay:

"If all others accepted the lie which the Party imposed—if all records told the same tale—then the lie passed into history and became truth. 'Who controls the past' ran the Party slogan, 'controls the future: who controls the present controls the past."

You already know the book. Oh, never mind. I digress

Base image: Wikimedia Commons

Try to occupy *this*

Most mainstream news media (and current perversions thereof... but dear me, I digress...) can't seem to wrap their collective consciousness around Occupy Wall Street and its offshoots.

As OWS went globally local this past weekend, they're finally trying to get to it — but news TV's hair and teeth types continue to deride and whinge over what they see as Occupy's deal breaker: no focused definition, agenda, leader or spokesperson.

Thing is, media and other big-organization complaints are more about fossilized reporting conventions than Occupy's relevance.

See, sometime mid-late last century, many media honchos and theorist types actually fretted about balancing news coverage (so quaint!) in the screaming dive toward daily deadlines. The only way they saw to do that real fast was to pigeonhole every story into a prefab template. One US network news president famously wanted to stereotype every item as a black hat/white hat Old West shootout. Somewhat more thoughtful types — well, okay, media theorists* — felt you might run to maybe a half-dozen prefabs. Still amounts to fillin' blanks with dates, names, a few telling details. Voila! News story! Like any sausage machine, it works adequately as long as you don't get all hung up on finesse.

But to get names and telling details in nanoseconds, which is all anybody on a 24 hour news cycle budgets for anymore, ya gotta have easily-contacted traditional organizations with official spokesthingies, cued to bark out bullet-point "positions" in predigested clips.

It's why many news items are tiny, dumb cartoons. It's also why many are spun to hell by the groups that can pour money into blendering up self-serving bullet points like so much liquid pig shit tasty frozen martinis and firehosing 'em at reporters.

So, the major objectors to Occupy Wall Street's style: people in news who want fast chicken nuggets to slot into a standard story; and people and groups holding some traditional form of power, who seek potshot targets with which to neutralize — or better yet, blacken and bury — a movement and retake what they see as the agenda. To occupy Occupy, as it were.

I'm pretty sure that OWS' amorphous squishiness is as frustrating to old media as its very tangible if unfocused discontent is to business-as-usual forms of power. This rabble ain't so easily cartooned or contained, when you can't find rabble-rousers or messages to pinpoint bomb. Could explain why Occupiers are covering their own revolution rather well in diffuse outlets like Flickr, Twitter, Facebook anonanon. Unhindered by convention, they get it. Anti-antisocial media at its best!

Coyote News, though we sometimes fly with the turkey vultures, is cool with it. Because it really, really pisses off political types desperately seeking some easy in, to either smear or co-opt the whole thing. And our embarrassing, illegitimate cousins at Fox and Sun, ummm, News. Did we mention them? Kinda flailing at the whole discrediting thing. Snicker...

* You, my doggybloggy reader, are of course so interested in this stuff that you will read further, maybe something like Making News (Gaye Tuchman); Deciding What's News (Theodore Gans), or Discovering the News (Michael Schudson). Because you're not the type to take your entire daily news/info/bloggossity hit on a smartphone in that two-minute lineup for your latte. You're better than the mere latte-rati...

In the blood.

Repeating a Harper Majority Government (™,®,but especially ©...) mantra that already glitters with either the polish of hard wear or that sparkly Twilight vampire crap, the federal anti-labour minister has ordered Air Canada's flight attendants' union straight to a procedurally-sketchy Industrial Relations Board arbitration tomorrow. Do Not Strike. Do Not Pass Go. Definitely Do Not Collect $200.

She opines (again) that these people must not be allowed to hurt the economy. Probably better than when she opined that "cancer is sexy," huh?

"These people" took a 15 per cent pay cut back in the day when Air Canada was hurting, and are still starting out at a monthly wage that barely covers a so-so one-bedroom apartment in downtown Ottawa, never mind the food and utilities. Forget cable. Even basic.

But, hey! If you could afford that hookup, the new retrosoap Pan Am's success would prove that the job's glamour still totally makes up for the poverty, obscene shifts, and antediluvian management. Right?

Apparently it's okay for these people to hurt, as long as "the economy", usually limned as some kind of shadowy, all-powerful, yet strangely fragile third person, does not. This quasi-person must be protected with the kind of dumb, short-term union-shafting tactics that, down the line, inevitably will lead to bunch of (here's an economic term, for, ummm, trained economists...) pent-up demand. From labour.

It has apparently not yet dawned on too many Harper Majority Government (™,®,but especially ©...) types that the economy is made up of individuals. Like, say, flight attendants. And that if you pull this shit enough, they'll eventually get pissed enough to come back at ya.

About the first time Lisa Raitt started dropping legislative howitzer rounds on any union that even smelled like it might be thinking about a strike, she began to tell interviewers that she grew up in an old-school union family in Nova Scotia, that her affinity with labour was "in the blood".

Was it really only this past June that she could still pull that one straight-faced? At the time, the great grey Glob said she was "an awkward foil for critics portraying the Conservative government as an enemy of Canada’s labour movement."

To establish that article's background (and to launch my now-trademark digression, a full nine paragraphs late in my books...) one must note that its top photo is of Ms. Raitt, sportin' what looks, to my jaundiced yellow eye, suspiciously like a blue sweater, and, ummm, cuddling an expedient kitten.

In retrospect, that should have been the only tell that we really needed, to give context to her poker-faced claims to blue-collar cred...

The struggle continues

This week, there's a new tear in the fabric of downtown Ottawa.

Zoom writes about it here. I don't have anything to add to that very fine obituary, except to think that Elmaks, of Swap Box Ottawa fame, deserves to be recognized one more time in our blog space, as well as Zoom's. And in a lot more places as well.

RIP, Elmaks. Thank you. The struggle continues... and the rest of us will remember you well.

Peter MacKay...

...Never a man to back away from a Challenger...

Hero worship

Autumn overtakes us coyotes with all the wit and subtlety of a drunken buncha city cowboys shooting varmints from the box of a careening half-ton. So, it seems, do the ripening fruits of the Cons' comfortable federal majority.

In the flush of their win (A flush that'll rattle through Canada's sclerotic political plumbing until something inevitably breaks... I digress), they've wasted no time ticking off citizens who didn't vote for 'em and items on their long-deferred bucket list: dusting and re-hanging old queen portraits at Foreign Affairs (Minister John Baird is apparently a fan of queens. We have no information if he's a fan of foreign affairs. The evidence is murky. And I've just digressed a second time in one paragraph.) Pushing an overreaching bill to throw money the country doesn't have at crime that doesn't exist. Hiring $90,000-a-day consultants to tell them how to save money. (Now they admit they don't actually know how...?) And oh, hey, doing their level best to rehabilitate John Diefenbaker.

F'rinstance by renaming icebreakers and public buildings, most lately Ottawa's old city hall, now a satellite office of Foreign Affairs, which for decades has lived up the block in the blasphemously-named Pearson building. For the kids who haven't blown us off for Twitter yet, Pearson was a Nobel Peace Prize winner and a diplomat as well as a liberal PM. Diefenbaker's diplomatic coups seem to have been confined to alternately boring and pissing off John F. Kennedy.

Yet vast mittsful of latter day ReformaTories have declared John Diefenbaker their personal hero. I suspect because they were in utero or in diapers in his heyday, so have no personal experience of the jowly old coot. They do not recall why his own embarrassed party belatedly kidney-punched him, kicking and screaming, into extended care.

Certain six-thousand-year-old coyotes were around. And we can tell you. He was a mean-spirited partisan, a quivering, glittering-eyed paranoid whose idea of a really great joke was to verbally acid-wash non-conservatives. His grip on reality was sweaty and tenuous. Many of his policies were logical looneytunes. Long after his best-by, he soldiered on in Parliament, resurrecting petty gripes best left in history's dustbin and hallucinating happier endings for himself.

Oh, ummm, wait... Sigh.

I'm the kind of guy who makes Google poems

* I'm the kind of guy who thinks fotos made by fotografers might want to mean something.

* I'm the kind of guy who can say in 100 words what most say in twelve. By choice.

* I'm the kind of guy who likes to ask a lot of people questions for reviews and do my own research before I buy something so I know that I'm getting a quality product.

* I'm the kind of guy that knows the names of the store clerks where I stop and get my daily morning Diet Coke; I'm the kind of guy who will let you in front of me in traffic or in line at the store

* The itching is horrible, but I'm the kind of guy who doesn't seek medical treatment right away. It's not a macho thing.

* Look, I'm the kind of guy who loves to ridicule blatant Monster Hunter rip-offs.

* You have to remember, I'm the kind of guy who has to look that up.

* I'm the kind of guy who likes to sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, “Gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecued ribs with the side order of gravy fries?

* I'm the kind of guy who strongly believes in doing what you're passionate about to make money.

* I'm the kind of guy who just goes out and tries to catch as much as I can every day and make as much money as I can in every event, and then I sit back and see how that hand plays out.

* I'm the kind of guy who visits a gallery or museum and can't understand the people who see things in art. I just see it as art.

* I would tell you to just stop reading and listen to it, but I'm the kind of guy who likes to keep that sort of thing to myself..

* I'm the kind of guy who likes to take responsibility and I like the pressure.

* Like I said before, I'm the kind of guy who goes about my business and not try to think
about things like that or things that are out of my control too much.

* I'm the kind of guy who says things sometimes just to make myself laugh, but she would just catch me making jokes for me.

* I'm the kind of guy who does a lot of self-expression on my laptop

* I'm the kind of guy who takes pictures of himself.

* I'm the kind of guy who's constantly trying to improve myself by reading up on whatever I can.

* I'm the kind of guy who likes to have my hands in the nitty-gritty and keeping stealthy until having things really, really ready, but I recently reached the point where I realized that I needed to flip the coin and get out of the office

* I'm the kind of guy who… Will wake up to kill a mosquito in the middle of the night, but won't wake up and open the door for someone ringing the doorbell in the morning.

* I'm the kind of guy who fixes stuff only when it stops working, or when its broken.

* On the other hand, I'm the kind of guy who changes my devices every year

[source]

Phoning it in

For about six-odd millenia, human behaviour has more or less baffled us semimythical coyotes.

It is September. A neoconservative prime minister has his, ummm, fully transparent mitts, fully wrapped around the sooty levers of federal power, manipulatin' dog-knows-what with 'em. Summer's green leaves are beginning to turn colour. And perhaps most foreboding of all, our medicinal dark chocolate stash is damn near empty. We are necessarily forced toward the philosophical. You know -- cogitatin' on the big unanswerable questions.

Take the ever-thinner smartphone. Now so impossibly thin that it cannot spoil the drape of that summerweight silk Italian suit or Chanel shift that every smartphone owner wears. Because you can afford to own those, even after you sign your soul over to Satan, who administers all of the more serious phone data plans. I digress. Oopsy.

Nude, the latest devices would dance comfortably beneath a ten millimetre high limbo bar. Ummm, so, basically, so thin and delicate that many of the fone phashionistas (at least the ones on the Route 14 bus...) feel an urgent need to wrap their statusy, ever-so-svelte electronic fetishes in even fetishier stretchy rubber slipcases. Roots' f'rinstance, clocks in at three millimetres.

Since most of these elegant devices apparently now barely power themselves through an average working day before collapsing in an anorexic puddle of melted lithium ions somewhere just slightly south of your early afternoon Starbux break, would not that extra three millimetres you're gonna add to the thing anyway not be better dedicated to, say, battery space? Just askin'.

And I've also been lately pondering: why lately am I so attracted to the comfort of hot soup? And if I and my similarly disgraceful friends make off to a Chinatown eatery to demolish huge bowls of soup, are we guilty of wonton destruction?

Just askin' the big questions... it's what us coyotes do right now.

(Flickr image by Quosquos, licensed under Creative Commons)

Probably only coincidence

Inquiring coyotes can't help noticing how carefully all the government news releases, media stories and pundits have been pussyfooting around the suspicious confluence of today's two great television events: the fact that August 31, 2011 is the, ummm, drop-dead date stamped upon not only the Great Digitul Switchover, but CTV News anchor Lloyd Robertson's retirement from the 'lectronical firmament.



Both huge! Both televisiony! Has nobody but me connected the two? Even though they hover blatantly in front of us like giant hi-def bats, everybody is carefully pretending they aren't in the room.



(In related news, coyotes are mourning the loss of analog rabbit ears. Digital ones are practically inedible. I digress. Ahem.)



Anyway, it's probably nothing for torch-carrying global villagers across the nation to worry about. However. An ever more parchment-complexioned Lloyd has been calling late night TV bingo for so unnaturally long that even people that don't believe in the undead, openly call him "Count Floyd" to his face now.



So those of us attuned to the semimythical realms, while not feeling certain about this one (Call it a theory. Like economics. I digress again.) suspect pretty strongly that vampires, whom everyone knows cannot be seen in mirrors, may also be incapable of manifesting themselves on digital TV. So, perfect time to retire.



Ummm. Probably only coincidence. But I'm just sayin'...

No bull

As Ottawa's festival season winds down once again, we coyotes feel a gnawing emptiness. A summer of nonstop-festivals-up-the-wazoo is about to be displaced by another cold winter of festless discontent.



But hey! For reasons that may or may not become clear if you click this link, the Irregulars' hit counter has lately been roping in mucho action from Google Image searches for "testy festy pictures".



Since coyotes are ever curious - you could ask all the cats we've ever known just how curious, if any through sheer inadvertent carelessness remain unboiled - I naturally researched this oddity. You could too, the same way. I ain't linking up to all that NSFW WTFery here. We're a family blog. A really dysfunctional family. I digress.



Let us merely state that Montana's Testicle Festival, known among the glitterati as Testy Festy, features a whole lotta breaded deep-fried prairie oysters, and a whole lotta (on the photographic evidence, apparently also deep-fried...) participants scarfing the aforementioned and behaving, ummm, somewhat badly. I figure it's probably excess testosterone.



But hey! I also figure this kind of thing is just what Ottawa needs - worse-than-usual bad behaviour to light that long, dark tunnel between the end of this weekend's Ottawa Folkfest and 2012 Winterlude, sometime far, far in the frozen future!

Vigil

This morning, Canadian opposition leader Jack Layton died of cancer.



Many people will write more eloquently about this than I. Some already have.



But I'll add this: Layton was a human guy in less than humane times. He was clear that politics affects peoples' lives. He knew that good policy has to be good for everybody.



And somehow, even in his goodbye note to a nation, he remembered that we all need hope, love and optimism, and tried his best to pass them to us.



Hundreds came to the candlelight vigil honouring his memory on Parliament Hill tonight, and considered their candles, or the red maple leaf flag that billowed at half-staff on the Peace Tower, or the sky, or the eternal flame.



And at intervals, they sang, quietly yet firmly, O Canada. For Jack Layton, for themselves, for a nation. Some throats caught. Some eyes wept. There were long, thoughtful stares. Still, the song kept rising and rippling through the crowd like a current in still water. Down deep, some, I hope, were thinking about ways to change the world for the better...

Whatever you do, don't skip this Google Poem

don't touch his hat

* Whatever You Do, Don't Buy Dermasis.
* Whatever You Do, Don't Show Him The Queen of Hearts.
* Whatever You Do, Don't Call Them Fuddy-Duddies.
* Whatever you do don't do other people's thinking for them.
* And whatever you do, don't try lugging in any nacelles to your local scrap dealer.

* Whatever you do, don't ignore it.
* Whatever you do, don't over-schedule the kids. Everyone needs some downtime.
* But whatever you do, don't get on meds. Those things are REALLY bad for you!
* And whatever you do, don't sit on the sidelines, waiting for a massive drop in prices. It isn't coming.
* whatever you do,don't eat take out/fast food,the stuff is toxic garbage.

* Don't touch his hat, whatever you do, don't touch his hat.

* Whatever you do, don't wait till the last minute to drive to your appointment or you'll pile additional stress on yourself by having to rush.
* Whatever you do, don't lower it.
* Whatever you do, don't forget to put the accurate information for contacting you.
* Whatever you do, don't be one of those people who give their parents a generic wedding gift put some thought into it, make it memorable, and don't wait to the last minute!

* Whatever you do, don't use a string trimmer, which will send sap-oozing bits of plant flying — some undoubtedly landing on bare skin.I
* So, if you like them, eat some apples and bananas and lettuce and make a splendid salad, but whatever you do - don't start your day with a banana!

* Whatever You Do Don't Relax!
* Whatever you do, don't take the staircase that leads up to the rooftop deck. It's haunted.
* Whatever You Do, Don't Stay In Your Lane.
* Oh … and whatever you do … don't forget to leave a comment below!

* Whatever you do, don't forget to thank your asian zodiac that bamboo is making a serious statement for those looking for a modern-day wooden look.
* Whatever you do, don't make an altimatum that you are not fully prepared to follow through with.
* You may say this goes without saying, but whatever you do, don't say anything bad or derogatory about the attendees or anyone or anything while on the webinar, even if you think you've hit mute or it's not on.

* whatever you do, don't ask for the ketchup unless, that is, you like plenty of attention.
* Everyone stay inside and crank the A/C! Whatever you do, don't learn how to cope with extreme weather without the help of central air!
* whatever you do, don't give the photos to a newspaper

* Whatever you do, don't waste that space.

* whatever you do, don't look down at Jennifer Aniston's feet. They are horrible. Really horrible. It's like a dead person's feet have been attached to her.

* And whatever you do, don't stop your child from eating because 'it's almost time for dinner.'
* Whatever you do, don't forget to take advantage of this time.

* whatever you do don't put the blame on you.. blame it on the rain yeah yeah. ...



[source]

There goes the neighbourhood

Elgin and Nepean

Photo: D'Arcy McDonell

Why the Harper Government®©™ can't ban asbestos...

Canada Post: still packin' mojo

Yup. When you're a crown corporation with a business model that is:

• aging less than gracefully;
• getting whacked mercilessly by the intertubes;
• stumbling toward long-term decline;
• hated by current government with an ideo-illogic verging on insanity;

and the only ploy management can come up with to fend off discussing a pressing, problematic pension issue with striking unions is to lock 'em out and make a bald-faced, unsubtle, shamelessly opportunistic play for some of that anti-union back-to-work legislation just like Air Canada got...

...Nuthin' says "We're totally ready to face all that down and get on with the whole 21st century thing" like, ummm, repainting all the mailboxes...

Still here, still semimythical, still ornery

Oh, I know some figured us semimythical coyotes to stump off into a semimythical western sunset to die of disappointment after that last election. But nooooooooo. We've been proud pests for the past six millennia, and with luck will keep at it for another six or twelve. We're ornery that way. (Insert trademark "I digress" here - Ed.)

In the post-election-seek-the-silver-lining pall, pundit types speculated that maybe a Tory majority rule would usher in a new era of political civility, now that the PM was comfortable - and so, more reasonable.

Mmmmhmmm. Maybe if you consider his long-gnawed-at ambition to try to root his (many) unpalatable ideas into the national ethos like so much psychic bindweed "reasonable". Maybe if you think authoritarian autocrats with a mile-wide muley streak are likely to do less of what they were doing when they were less... comfortable.

When he brayed "conservative values are Canadian values" to his caucus at the beginning of June, editorialists took it to mean that he was reassuring the two-thirds of the electorate who kinda didn't vote for him that they had nothing to fear.

Coyotes, suspicious critters to a dog, figured it was probably just laying pipe to marginalise anyone opposed to Harper-brand tories by calling 'em "unCanadian".

The new cash collection started at last week's self-congratulaTory convention, to fund a whackdown of their only "real" opposition - "left-leaning media" - kinda ices the poisoned gâteau. Lessee: National Post, Globe & Mail, PostMedia News, Quebecor/Stun chain... they all endorsed these guys. Some held their noses over that piffling, albeit unprecedented, contempt-of-Parliament ruling from the Speaker, perhaps the better to apply 'em to Mr. Harper's butt. Butt they did it.

(I note that that other piffling, albeit unprecedented, thing, the post-election report from the Auditor General that Harper knowingly misled parliament so a couple cabinet ministers could mishandle a whole whack of millions as a personal re-election slushfund for the, ummm, honorable member from Muskoka, was handled identically: a carefully calculated, casual, very public shrug, to reassure the party's dim base that their guys weren't exactly the same kind of utterly amoral, opportunistic, rats as the ones they hoofed out a few prorogued parliaments back...)

Damn digressions! Where the hell was I? Oh, yeah. So, I'm thinkin' that means that the only left-leaning media, ummmm, left in this town is Coyote News. These crosshairs feel stylish. Like making a Nixon enemies list. I should be able to dine out on this one for the next four years at least...

Tips for Criminal Masterminds: the Secret Lair

As a criminal mastermind you need more than a hideout. You need a base of operations suitable for developing your nefarious plans to take over the world.

The Diefenbunker - too obvious?

Here in Ottawa there are many properties that will require very little retrofitting to meet your needs. Most are not currently on the market, but as an evil genius, you should be able to overcome that challenge.

The great news is that you'll be able to tour many sites without suspicion this coming Saturday and Sunday as part of Doors Open Ottawa.

Of course, you'll want to see the Diefenbunker. It is closed on Saturday, but open on Sunday. In my opinion, the Diefenbunker is too obvious a location for a secret lair, but you're the evil genius.

There are a good number of embassies on the list as well as churches and schools that could meet your needs. Lisgar Collegiate used to have a rifle range on its 4th floor.

Traffic Operations - inspiration?

Even if you don't want to acquire one of the Doors Open properties, you might get some good ideas. For example, the City's Traffic Operations Unit at 175 Loretta Ave has control and monitoring systems you might like to study.

There is one possibly ideal location not on the Doors Open list we expect to be up for sale in the next few months. It's only a block from Parliament Hill and has escalators going up and down to a large basement. I'm talking about the Zellers at 156 Sparks. It's one of the few Zellers outlets that have not been bought by Target.

Your new lair?

If I were a criminal mastermind, I'd snap this Zellers up as soon as it comes on the market and keep it a low price retail store. Not just for the income stream, but also so that my minions could come and go without notice and I could buy their uniforms wholesale.

The light rail tunnel construction starting soon would also cover up the noise and waste from any excavation I wanted to do for extra sub-basements or my own secret tunnels.

Good luck wherever you decide to locate your lair. Feel free to invite us to the house warming party. We'll be sure to bring a suitably evil houseplant.

Tips for Criminal Masterminds: Skill Building

Not quite ready to take over the world? Perhaps you need to strengthen a few skills or develop some new abilities. The City of Ottawa offers a number of low cost programs that can help you.

There are many suitable offerings in the Spring – Summer 2011 Recreation Guide. Here is a small selection from the adult program:

Public Speaking
Improve public speaking with practical tools including breathing techniques and voice work. Build confidence addressing a group in a supportive environment. Skills help in various professional settings.
Nepean Creative Arts Centre – 613-596-5783
Fri 6:30-7:30 pm
Apr 8-May 13 $61.25 645286

Chivalrous Sword Handling
Sword fighting? You mean like Lord of the Rings? Train in the safe handling and fair usage of the European Broad Sword.
Instruction includes parts and history of the sword, shield work, code of Chivalry and how to make chain-maille armour.
Plant R.C. – 613-232-3000
Level 1
Sun 10:30 am-12:30 pm
Jul 10-Aug 28 $90.25 635205

Hypnosis – Basic Techniques
Hypnosis is a tool to communicate with the subconscious. Learn how to achieve a deep sense of relaxation and assist with habits and goals with the guidance of a certified hypnotherapist.
St-Laurent Complex – 613-742-6767
Wed 6-8:55 pm
May 25 $68 636776
Jun 15 $68 636778
Jul 13 $68 636781
Aug 3 $68 636784
Aug 24 $68 636786

The City also has a program to prepare your children to become better henchmen for you:

Spy Camp
Hone your craft, meet ‘real spies’, and run training missions through top-secret briefings and activities. Develop a disguise, make and break codes, use escape and evasion techniques, create spy gadgets, and uncover the science in spying.
Pinecrest R.C. – 613-828-3118
6-8 yrs Tue-Fri 9 am-4 pm
Aug 2-5 $132 644569

FAQ
Q: Are there other courses I should consider?
A: Absolutely, if you haven’t worked your way up to Ballroom Dance Level 10, get on it right away. And if you have not mastered an obscure musical instrument you can start with piano lessons. The piano is not an ideal instrument for an evil genius, but learning it will help you learn how to play the pipe organ.

Q: Should I sign up for one of the dog obedience courses?
A: What? The only dogs an evil genius should have are attack dogs managed by a professional trainer. If you’re looking for pets, it’s cats or reptiles.

Q: Until my plans come to fruition, I’m a little tight on funds. Any way to get a break on registration fees?
A: Of course. Just apply to the Fee Assistance Program.

Never Trust a Google Poem

* Never Trust a Hippy
* Never trust a cricketer, whoever he may be
* Never Trust A Junkie

* Never trust your solder joints
* Never Trust a Man in Crocs
* Never trust a millionaire quoting the sermon on the mount
* never trust an attractive woman that you meet in a dungeon

* Never trust the media guys who tell you to “go ahead and leave your mic on”
* You Should Never Trust Someone Whom You Don't Know To Take a Decent Picture
* you should never just trust a review

* Never Trust a Scrawny Foodie
* Never trust an international guarantee
* Never trust a CEO with your personal well-being
* Never trust a cloud!

* Never Trust Your GPS.
* Never Trust the Internet to Always Be Your Friend
* Never trust Google Maps when walking!

* never trust a fart no matter what.

* Never trust your car to anyone to whom you have given birth.
* Never Trust A Jawa
* Never, NEVER trust your form inputs.
* You Should Never Trust The Photos Hotels Post Online

* Never trust downloads even if it is from a respected official download site because it might still be a threat
* Never Trust a Politician
* Never trust a warlock

* Never trust a fart. I had a rather unfortunate experience after tonight's 10 mile run.

* Never Trust An SEO Salesman
* Never Trust Anything With That Much Wicker Around
* Never trust a man who wears a sweater vest
* Never trust a big butt and a smile

[*]

You've been warned

Barking up the Big E-Bike Ban

Yesterday, the National Capital Commission moved to ban E-bikes -- at least honkin' big ones -- from recreational paths. Public consultations, fines for perps, and everythin'.

Don't get me wrong. I love e-rides. One of the biggest hoots I've had in the past year was hijacking somebody's robo-mower for an exhilarating l'il motocross through Greely. Hilarity with a minimal carbon footprint! I digress.

Normally, us coyotes see the NCC's double-mittsful of planners as, ummm, Double-Bureaucratic Twits. Like many bureaucrats and planners, removed from the real world. Except by about times two. Maybe squared. More likely cubed.

But on the Big E-Bike Ban, I'm gonna go all Randall Denley on ya, and agree with the twits, maybe actually be one myself. I reluctantly concede that they might get it right by accident. Sometimes.

The cycles in the NCC's crosshairs are the ones that look and act pretty much like full-fledged motor scooters.

Dealers of these things say they're being targetted unfairly. And kinda ignore the fact that like their gas-snorting kin, they're plenty heavy and drive at city traffic speeds. Sure, e-scooters sport pedals, but they're evolutionary vestigial tails -- near-fictional afterthoughts to skootch owners past motor scooter license laws on a technicality. Honest owners will admit their spiffy e-rides are way too heavy for such sweaty nonsense.

I mostly blame bicycle brain. Cyclists that think they're not on real vehicles, and so are not subject to real road rules.

Bicycle brainiacs do all sortsa crap. Elbowing walkers on sidewalks, blowing off stop signs and red lights with that cute li'l semicircular sidestreet deke that abets the private fiction that they haven't done anything illegal or dangerous. On recreational paths, bicycle brain causes 'em to barely nod to the, ummm, strong suggestion to ring their bells when they're overtaking unaware pedestrians in speedy silence. Even if there are only a thousand or so in the city right now, calling what amount to full-on scooters that weigh a couple hundred pounds and go 50 or 60 kph, "bicycles" and letting 'em loose on recreational paths is just askin' for disjointed tails. Or worse. And I know from disjointed tails.

So just this once I tip my semi-mythical hat to the bureaucratic twits. Bask in your coyote kudos! We know it can't last...

At long last having pulled out a majority. . .

. . .Stephen Harper revealed his grand vision for the country to Canadians

Vote...

Parked as we are atop a few clawed mittsful of cute, furry food chains, us coyotes got no illusions that life is guaranteed to be fair. Or to make sense.

Still, with the ballot countdown now in the hours, I gotta raise a fuzzy eyebrow at Stephen Harper's last shot of gall and wormwood-twisty logic: commanding lefties to vote for him, or, ummmm, dangerous lefties will screw up the stable government that only he can give us.

From his gang's performance to date, I think it must be the kind of stable that needs regular shoveling out.

Con strategists, as in previous kicks at that increasingly dented can full of majority, were counting on their voter base being the only one motivated enough to show. Everybody else was supposed to feel so disheartened and discouraged by the gutter politics of late that they just blew off the balloting. If you didn't vote tomorrow, then they'd win.

That clever script's obviously had an emergency rewrite. And semimythical coyotes -- uncharacteristically -- have little to say about that, except this:

If Liberals vote Conservative to stave off the NDP... then the Toryists win.

Greasy pols, greasy polls and greasy poles

An election now lunges toward either the final gong or buzzer, I forget which, with a speed approaching terminal gravitational acceleration. Certain half-smart tory backroom operators who helped manipulate the damn thing in the first place have hit the ground. Not running gracefully, as they thought they would, but with aerodynamic qualities akin to lead pancakes.

It is telling that Stephen Harper has stomped on (m)any faces in his scramble for a majority. It is also telling, in a negative way, that he hasn't really told anybody what he would do with a majority if he got it.

But it is even more telling that some opinion polls place those unhinged socialists he keeps harpering on about, within hard spitballing range of "his" majority.

Citizenship fatigue, finally, maybe? Five years ago, in the face of a decayed liberal machine, Harper promised Reform-a-Tory honesty and transparency if elected. Since, he and his stable of hyper-partisan frat boys have ridden a breathtaking string of dishonesty, opacity and mean-spiritedness to where we are now.

Their fallback strategy when nailed - and there have been nailings aplenty - has been to wriggle, split hairs and misdirect. Say they're only doing what the Liberals did already. Maybe throw someone who's not named Harper under the bus.

That pristine Tory bus is gettin' pretty gory.

Then, if your name is Harper, you feign an eerily robotic approximation of calm reason to state, "Now, now, you know that's simply not true."

Provable lies, but they play real well with the rural base in Alberta. Also, apparently, with the Globe and Mail, which just endorsed the crud-covered incumbent as the best choice for PM. Because he's you know, a good financial manager. Yucko! As if!

Where was I? Oh yeah: so the reductio ad absurdem Con subtext is that they are now exactly what the Libs were, right? The devil's spawn of which their endless barrage of attack ads do constantly remind?

Seems like the copious backsplatter from all that ugly ordnance may finally be soiling the tailored blue Harry Rosen suits of the firing crews. One can hope.

This election ain't a done deal. What we seem to be learning as the campaign closes is that liberals are still wandering the political wasteland, and that conservatives have emulated them, badly. Could explain the surge of a former fourth-place long shot who seems pretty upbeat and positive.

How it'll play at the real polls, as opposed to the fleeting snapshots of opinion polls, is anybody's guess.

If it's a Tory majority, I still have my doggy helmet, flack jacket and poisoned ink supply from Ontario's Mike Harris years. Anything else, that yodelling, yipping laugh you hear in the distant night after the ballot count will be moi.

Meantime, I'll stock in the English breakfast tea and a crumpy or six for a big, very early-morning wedding. I approve of weddings. They're a welcome diversion. And more important than politics.