No place like gnome

Cedric celebrated Canada Day by hanging a patriotic banner in the window of ESI European headquarters in Florence.

All is peaceful today. But not so last night.

The tiny troll had a run-in with the carbinieri after guzzling a bit too much maple syrup. Seems he tried to climb the faux David statue outside the Palazzo Vecchio, alarming passersby.

Having discovered what a poor climber he is, I think the syrup is now stashed safely out of his miniscule reach.

Bring on the holy tacos

Yeah, yeah. I know Michael Jackson posts are already about passé. But I've been busy. And even at 3,500 feet, where the air is rare, the horizon blessedly wide, nightly howl-ups with my coyote brethren loud and yappy, and the Internet is dial-up and crappy, the King of Pop's sad death did not escape my notice.

Neither I'm sure, will the ensuing tawdry burlesque. It is, after all, one of the Independent Observer's favourite states for a reason.

Jackson's life was pure tabloid: a slow-motion circus train wreck. How would his dying change things? Especially with Joe Jackson, the ever-classy Rev. Al Sharpton, a cawing murder of publicity-hungry lawyers, the odd cellphone-camera totin' ambulance attendant, carpet-bombing Fox News 'reporters' and hordes of opportunistic alleged insiders, all gyrating out of the worm-riddled woodwork.

I'm not cynical or anything. Ummm, okay, maybe a little... I digress. But I figure we have only nanoseconds - maybe less - before the end game.

Which, if I read the signs aright, will be sightings of Jackson and Elvis, still alive. Eternally cruising the American heartland together in a white '68 Cadillac, leaving humongous tips with awestruck night shift attendants in isolated Seven Eleven gas stops. Who will sell their amazing stories to tabloid TV.

After that, it's a short inevitable hop to tales of corn tortillas adorned with the King of Pop's likeness. Blessed with miraculous powers. Oh, and steep admissions for supplicants that wish to bathe in their curative aura. Later to be hawked on eBay for thousands of bucks, and displayed in a highly legitimate casino museum on Sunset Strip.

Which reminds me. My breakfast Fritos this morning? I chanced upon this amazing silhouette of Michael Jackson on one of the chips. Hallelujah! I'm pretty sure it cured me. Of cynicism. Oh, yes. It's a freakin' - and I use that term advisedly - miracle! Bidders...?

Vegan Nightmare on Sparks Street

Yes, Ribfest, a.k.a. the best thing about Ottawa's so-called pedestrian mall, is back. And life is mouth-wateringly good.

Image: flickr.com

BREAKING NEWS

Coyote spotted driving in downtown Ottawa

At first he doesn't see me (what a big nose he has)

Suddenly his keen doggie senses kick in (what big eyes he has)

Then he sees me, and I run for my life (what big teeth he has)

Room service? Send up Cirque du Soleil!

Cedric may be small but he knows some big rollers. For instance,
Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal bin Abdul Aziz Al Saud, the world's 20th-richest person and co-owner of the Fairmont Hotel chain.

Seems Cedric met the prince when they were fellow master's students at Syracuse University. The budding billionaire took a liking to the little guy, who picked up some extra cash by faithfully shining the royal Mercedes.

The prince never forgot, and presented Cedric with a Christmas gift: a cross-country tour of Fairmont digs that recently took us to Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver.

Cedric let me come along, but I drew the line at calling him Your Highness. After all, he's a dwarf.