R.I.P., J.D.

Life as the Elgin Street Irregulars' designated literary coyote is not all free wine and cheese book launches, lemme tell ya.

Cards and letters began pouring in last week, politely pointing out that after the royal sendoff one gave to Erich Segal, it would be utterly churlish of one not to do the same for the late J.D. Salinger.

A more recent rash of polite missives has begun to pose the question: "Speaking of late, why the hell has one not stirred one's fuzzy butt and done so, already?

My bad.

But JD poses a unique quandary. His record. About mid-last century, he writes a clutch of short stories and novellas, and a vanishingly small number of novels, one brilliant, and one pretty damn good.

After which he bugs out to New Hampshire and turns recluse, not publishing another word for half a century, amid whispers that he's still writing reams of brilliant stuff for his own amusement only.

You can see the problem for pioneering metabloggers such as ourselves, even ones that have moved on from their original purpose. We have lived (and occasionally died) by the daily outpouring of committed bloggery. People who post more than regularly and who veer into the breathtakingly confessional at the mere drop of an innuendo. An innuendo often as not picked up, dusted off, undressed and punted center stage to swing around the pole, a bare sentence or two later.

JD? All that copy for 50 years, and we get nuthin'... The ESIs' unofficial position on his passing is that we think he would have made a lousy blogger. Make of this what you will.

The Best Group Blog? It's not us

Best group blog? Please, we're not even close. For my money it's the gang over at the OC Transpo Community Livejournal. How can we compete with posts like this?

driver of bus #5040. #7 ST Laurent @ 4:10pm
What is up with your driving! I am typing this as I am sitting in your bus on my Blackberry. This is a Hybryde bus and you are driving like it was a standard and you are poping the clutch! Everyone is having a hard time staying in their seats let alone stand in the bus! What gives? I know some buses are smoother then others but this takes the cake!!

Ottawa's anti-prorogue rally

Ottawa's prorogue protest, timed to coincide with several dozen across the country today, wasn't exactly slick. It was long. The student cheer leaders were endearingly amateur. A speaker or two wandered lengthily off-track. And there looked to be a lot of ad-hoc cooks trying to salt their own spice into the bouillabaisse.

But ya know what? If it had all been slick clockwork, I would have been more concerned. That might've meant some oily pro had pumped backroom grease into what looks to be real Facebook populism, rising spontaneously among concerned citizens.

Ya know what else? It was big. Far larger than the coalition rally after Prime Minister Stephen Harper prorogued in late 2008.

Even so, I heard a trio that looked like pro journalists, asking each other as pros are sometimes wont, if there was any story.

We coyotes, amateur and unjournalistic to a fault, would say there is. It is this: Anger and frustration over Harper's cynical manipulation of the democratic process in general and the prorogation card in particular is grassroots, authentic, and to be reckoned with.

If no smooth professional political types are involved yet, it may well be because the PM's disregard for the niceties of traditional politesse confounded and hamstrung them.

But while he smugly ties Parliament in knots, apparently he forgets that the real power of this country rests in many millions of people who, while they may never step onto the Hill, care deeply that what goes on there should be aboveboard. Especially when somebody starts jacking around with it too much. There's irony in self-anointed populists being bitten by the populace they claim to represent. Based on today's event, the PM might do well to remember that. If he ever got it in the first place.

Ask your doctor

All these Viagra and Cialis commercials make me think there are perhaps two, maybe three, men in our great Dominion, able to get an erection. Yes, if the frequency, tone and urgency of the ads are to be believed, in the words of the incomparable Moe Berg, almost all men, with few and valiant exceptions worthy of the Order of Canada, just can't seem to get it up.

All of which made me wonder if there is a drug available for the opposite condition. Yes, I seek the anti-Viagra. The pill or potion that smites desire and keeps it passive and subservient.

A quick online search turned up several possibilities: Marriage. Salt peter. Fathering a child. Curlers, beauty mask cream, a cigarette, bottle of tequila, frumpy nightgown, granny panties, or furry bunny slippers. Or a bunny wearing furry granny panties.

And for the women: A picture of Dom Deluise. Men that wear socks in bed, leave the bathroom sink in a mess, fail to put the seat down, don't cut toenails, or do and leave them on the floor.

Doctor Phil, where are you when we truly need you?

Love means not ever having to say you're sorry you wrote Love Story

The New York Times announced this morning that Love Story author Erich Segal has died.

Some of the younger among you won't remember this (extremely) slim bestseller. That is good.

Just take it as a salutary warning that when the inevitable weepy movie appeared in 1970, the world was blessed with Ryan O'Neal and Ali McGraw as nanosecond superstars.

And that, back in the day, Love Story and Jonathon Livingston Seagull almost completely defined the philosophical thought of a, ummm, certain generation.

All of which may explain why many things so often screech sideways, now that this ummm, generation is runnin' things. I'm just sayin'...