The Nipple On Our Souls

If North American society is sexually schizoid, the US is a whiskey-throated blonde cheerleader dolled up in slutty make-up, who faints at the slighest prospect of intimacy. Witness the current debacle facebook has created by banning pix that breastfeeding advocates have posted on their pages. Facebook recently deleted the account of a Canadian woman who posted pix that apparently violated their standards. Feministas and boob supporters alike are understandably pissed. Although, groups like La Leche League are still up and have pix on their pages showing acceptable depictions of breastfeeding. Of course, "acceptable" in this case means NO NIPPLE.

What the hell is wrong with this society, when barely pubescent girls can writhe in fucking g-strings and oil while firing submachine guns on TV, yet the sudden flash of a single goddamn nipple at a violent sports match can summon on the four horses of the apocalypse? Moreover, what is wrong when natural women feed their children naturally with the natural NIPPLES that they were naturally born with and repressed nutbars can punish and chastise them for being inappropriate and dirty? That is the true sexual perversion in our society and tears us even further away from our HUMAN roots.

Now don't get me wrong. I know that when you open a facebook account, you sign on to certain terms, including not posting pix containing nudity. There is a very good reason for this, as anyone who knows anything about the naivete of children and the slyness of pedophiles will understand. But holy fucking jesus christ North America: Get over your insane NIPPLE fear!!!

If you don't the terrorists will have won.

Early Montreal Treasures Recovered

Archaeologists have found the remains of the earliest known buildings in Montreal. The 1642 settlement contained many fascinating relects, which show some indication of what life in the cradle of Montreal civilization might have been like back then. K-Dough has obtained exclusive access to the archivist's list by greasing palms and other body parts. Here is just a sampling of what they found in the dig:

• A jewelled, deerskin thong, with the name "Bambi Bouchard" stitched into the fabric, and a branded ensignia reading "Club Super Voyageur" on the front.
• A crate of petrified bagels, which pre-date the earliest known Jewish immigrants to the area by over 100 years.
• A crudely fashioned hockey puck made from what lab tests have confirmed to be kiln-fired moose shit.
• An emaciated, stuffed beaver, mounted on what appears to be a stage, roughly hewn from birch, with the curious name-plate "Celine".
• A well preserved large "C" encompassing a smaller "H", made from fried potatoes, held together by stringy melted cheese.

Get in Line Ladies

The latest StatsCan census data indicates that the odds of Canadian women finding a man are decreasing. The data says that women out-number men in Canada by a ratio of 100:96.

My thoughts: Finally, a wonky, demographic paid for by taxpayers that actually means something to me! Be patient in the queue though ladies: There is enough hot blooded K-nadian coiled and waiting right here for all of you!!!

I Want to Be Your Boyfriend

So, you've probably heard that some loser, 70s never-been band from California is suing Avril Lavigne because they say she ripped off the chorus to her smash shit-hit Girlfriend from a tune they wrote in 1979. I guess you can't blame the geriatic bastards for trying to crack open Avril's treasure chest to pay for some long overdue PSA tests. Mmmmm, did I just say Avril's treasure chest? Delightful.

Annnnnnnnnyway, the kicker is that notorious song bitchtress Chantal Kreviazuk- who sold her integrity to the devil (and married him for that matter) - is now bad mouthing Avril to the music press and "suggesting" she ripped her off too.

I, for one, find it rich that Chantal and her money-grubbing sick chicken-voiced Prima Donna husband would use up that poor young girl and throw her away like she was some drunken bi-curious teen who had answered a Lavalife ad posted under "Adventurous Couples".

Poor Avril. I sense she may need comforting in the way only K can provide. Dump that little elf Wibbly sweetie and drop by this weekend with a gallon of lube, that little skirt thang and a note from your mother: K-Dough wants to be your boyfriend. Err, Daddy?

Happy F Day mofos, brofos, faux-mos and homos!!!

Top 10 Things I Love About Japan

Unless you speak Nihongo, this may take some googling to get. But hey, I'm asserting blogetic licence because...I just feel like it. Banzai!

1. Rotenburo: Steaming onsen in winter, in the mountains.
2. Shoyu ramen on a cold, rainy night, a warm yukata and a flask of atsukan.
3. Yukiguni no sekai (Kawabata Yasunari)
4. Sato Ryosho Sensei (shinimashita), Nihonmatsu Shito Ryu Karatedo
5. Dreams Come True and Yoshida Miwa
6. Enka and mizuwari!!!
7. It's fucked up, but I miss the smell of musty tatami during the rainy season.
8. Yamadera
9. Ukiyo-e
10. Sakura/O-Hanami
    

ACTRA Strike- Take One!

ACTRA members have been told not to show up to work today, which will be a serious blow to many performers who have found work increasingly scarce in this country. Not to mention, thousands of other technical staff and related industries will be out of work or will see their revenues completely dry up for the duration of the strike.

Some productions, who have signed on to an interim agreement with ACTRA, are being allowed to continue to operate. Among those are the Rick Mercer Report (yay!) and the Royal Canadian Air Farce (boo!).

My question: If there really is a god - some omnipotent celestial executive producer - and he is in control of choosing any Canadian show to become a victim of this labour action, for fuck's sakes why couldn't he have cast Air Farce into that inescapable fiery pit? Why? Why?

On the upside, hopefully we won't be seeing much of Ben Mulroney for awhile.

The Chinese Problem

An article in the Globe yesterday highlighted an apparent growing trend amongst out-of-luck Chinese immigrants in Toronto who are sending their babies back to mainland China because they can not afford child care. Advocates confusingly have blamed these cases of familial separation on Immigration Canada. The logic is twisted: Immigration Canada promotes this country as the best place on earth to live, and because these immigrants can't find well-paying jobs and are forced to work minimum wage jobs to get by, the state is somehow responsible.

Immigrants are people. People are commodities in the job market. It's a free world based on speculation and if you don't have what the market wants you're not going to make money. Of course, there are language and credential barriers between pretty much every two countries in the world. But why would anyone think Canada would be any different? The days of the Gold Mountain are long gone.

Some critics point to a recent steep decline in immigration applications from China as evidence that these returned babies are stopping other Chinese from wanting to come here. But has anyone thought about the possibility that the promise of a nascent free market economy in China itself could be responsible for luring Chinese into staying at home and toughing it out in the wild, wild East? Naw, couldn't be anything that macro.

Of course, no one wants to point out either that these parents could just as easily choose to return WITH their kids to China and that there may be issues of personal responsibility and accountability involved here. No, of course not. We can just chalk the trend up to the enigmatic cultural character of those mysterious Chinese, while Chinese community advocates manipulate the pathos for all its worth.

And let's face it: Doesn't it make cold, hard economic sense to birth a child in Canada so that child instantly becomes a Canadian citizen, then send him/her away for a much cheaper upbringing in another country where trusted relatives will maximize the money you send home to care for that child? I don't want to sound too cynical, but this sounds a lot like the sojourners of old who constituted the Chinese diaspora in the late 1800s. Those men worked horribly difficult labourers jobs here only to remit most of what they earned to their family or village association back in China. The immigrants of today are more educated than the coolies were, but nevertheless make similar economic choices for the sake of family above their own emotional needs.

In another way, this resembles the wave of affluent Hong Kong immigrants in the late 1980s and early 90s who bought real estate, returned to HK and conversely left their children behind in Canada to maintain immigration status before the takeover of HK by China in 1997 - just in case things went bad.

Look, I am not without sympathy for any mother or child who are separated. I'm a father and could not imagine ever doing such a thing for any reason. But saying this is happening because of unfair conditions in the host country, or simply because Chinese immigrants are more desperate than any other visible minority immigrant group is ridiculous. Doing so only perpetuates negative stereotypes of powerlessness and otherness that I would hope most Chinese would be seeking to rid themselves of after all these years.

Chinese are not powerless, stupid or naive. They are as industrious, culturally vibrant and intelligent as the rest of us.

*The title of this post refers to a book called The Chinese Problem published in 1876 by American L.T. Townsend, which discussed the merits of excluding Chinese from immigrating to the US, and specifically California. You can view PDFs of the original text HERE.

Sundaze With the Ks

There is really no news worthy of my critique, criticism or mocking obscenity today. It's getting close to X day and all the big mouthed spin dudes are keeping things quiet in hopes that they will be off for as many days as possible during X period.

Like any of you care, here is K-Dough's typical Sunday reality- recounted and itemized:

1. Woke up, read headlines, kissed runny-nosed toddler.
2. Chatted with child, girlfriend-for-life and best friend over earthy espresso and uitsmijter.
3. Drove with best friend to purchase food stuffs: Sustainance assured for coming week.
4. Put sickly child to sweet nappies in womb-like comfy crib with multiple blankies and essential oil wafting from humidifier. Baby spa. Mmmm.
5. Girlfriend-for-life visited fancy South American gay hairdresser to talk about sordid life details of a drag queen and spend exorbidant amounts of cash on great flipped back late 70s Farrah-do. Nice.
6. Wrote a cool roots rock kinda song.
7. Had a glass of Belgium's finest.
8. Traditional Sunday head shaving, followed by steaming hot, extended shower and wanton abuse of girly Aveda bath products to a soundtrack of Galaxie Ambient.
9. Assembled naked, dusty Hypocrismas Tree.
10. Enjoyed more Euro-potent beerful goodness as li'l Kay-Dough decorated tree, broke priceless sentimental heirloom and excitedly freaked out in front of glittery, bulb-straffed needly icon, while repeatedly reciting partial red-nose reindeer lyrics. Sweet.
11. Fired up the stainless steel behemoth BBQ and grilled up some turkey burgers. Covered with hastily whipped-up Morrocan charmoula and old, tangy white cheddar. Mmm.
12. Drank more.
13. Convalesced in festive familial narcossis in front of Finding Nemo with best friend, girlfriend-for-life and child, nestled in warm, cradling sofa arms.

With all the complex thinking, success-seeking, pontificating and immortality chasing, there really is nothing better than that kind of Sunday.

John Turner Bio-Doc Airs Saturday

So, a friend of mine who happens to be a Producer/Director/Writer named Paul Kemp (Stornoway Productions) has made a very interesting and entertaining bio-doc on former PM and prominent Liberal John Turner. Paul dropped off an advance copy at my place last week and I thought I'd let y'all know about it.

Even if you don't like Turner this is well worth watching, if only because his political career careened across many fascinating and turbulent crests on Canada's historical sea. Not to mention, the details of his past evoke memories of the Canada I remember seeing on the news when I was kid. You know, the days when most politicians seemed a little more scholarly, well-spoken and god forbid, well-behaved. Watching old black and white footage of Turner conducting an impromptu seminar with young buzz-cut Liberals at the 1968 Liberal convention reminded me of Ward Clever imparting life lessons to the boys.

You have to check out this positive, fairly non-partisan doc regardless of what striped corner you have painted yourself into. Paul was granted exclusive access to all of Turner's fascinating photos and they figure prominently throughout, while Turner, himself, recounts the battles and joys of his years in Ottawa.

This is a must-see for anyone who loves Canadian history and politics. For the older of us, it will refresh memories and for the younger it will animate what you may see as a one-dimensional past. Either way, it offers new perspective into things we may take for granted regarding Canada's development as a nation.

The hour-long documentary is called John Turner: In His Own Words and will air on Global Television this coming Saturday at 7 pm EST on the ocassion of the Liberal leadership convention. It is also slated to run on iChannel in December. Check out your local listings for details!

Playstation Chaos Confirms Idiot Adult-Children Theory

Well, Western society has reaffirmed the meaning of its existence today. All over the continent idiots are clamouring to purchase new Playstations. Some idiot even shot someone at a Wal-Mart for one- no doubt with bullets purchased at said Wal-Mart

You know, you'd think God, being all powerful and smart and shit would capitalize on this opportunity to skim the crud of the top of the soup of humanity. I mean all those drooling idiots congregated in specific locations to me says: Easy target for revelations-scale retribution against man for his sins.

I dunno. Maybe it's just me...

K-Dough Helping the Melancholy

In quiet times, my mind often drifts to pondering the pain and anguish that those poor EMO kids have to go through. Some say I feel too much, but you know what, that's who I am. Contrary to popular belief, K-Dough is compassionate. I have even read a few pages of a book that someone bought for me, which outlines the Dalai Lama's teachings on compassion. Incidentally, the person who bought me the book sheepishly and tearfully pleaded with me to read it because she was spineless and lacked any semblance of self-confidence. But, I digress.

I want to help those EMO kids who have no one to hug at night as they weep themselves into a dark narcosis while listening to old Cure songs. That's why I created Comfort-Me Emo- the only over-sensitive, broody stuffed red toy with an addiction to benzodiazepines (Zanex for the lay person) and Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia. Yes EMO kids, you can now have a personal confidante to wile away hour after dreary hour staring at your own myspace profile, wondering why no has messaged you.

And the best thing is that Comfort-Me EMO doesn't talk to you -- because that's what you prefer in human relationships. He merely sits there lifeless, staring off into the distance like you don't even exist, completely ignoring your long-winded, boring stories of heartache and social dislocation.

And we've incorporated some amazing technology into Comfort-Me EMO. Just pull the string on EMO's back and he will either tattoo a solemn tear on your cheek or slowly slough away to nearby closet where he will write dark poetry and sulk until his episode is over.

So get 'em now kids, while they're still around- or before the entire human race becomes extinct in the coming firestorm of death, due to the injustice, cruelty and insensitivity perpetrated by the soulless, dark-hearted mouth-breathing creatures that populate this disgusting ball of filth we call the world, that dismally revolves in the dark wheel of pain and misery that we call this galaxy.

Do Psycho Groupies Read Newspapers?

Apparently not. Judging from Ashley Harrison's myspace page (if that is indeed the infamous Ashley) she has no clue that her e-mails to one of Canada's most read columnists were publicized yesterday. Who can blame her though- with all the crap on TV that needs watching and the countless line of black-lipsticked necrophiliac vampire guys that need flirting with online. I think that one of you - the sensible public - should take it upon yourselves to find her page, cut and paste her publicly available e-mail address in to an e-mail and let her know what a flap her teen tard comments have caused. You know, give her a chance to defend or explain herself. A friend of mine let Rosie DiManno know yesterday, but has heard not a peep back fom her yet.

I want to run something by y'all and see what you think. Ashley has a graphic posted on her page which reads: 4-20 Remember the Real Victims. The date 4-20 refers to the date of the Columbine massacre and the graphic contains the pictures of the two teen monster killers and a rose. It is a tribute to the psycho-geeks who killed all those innocent victims and destroyed so many of the survivors' lives. Under the graphic, Ashley wrote this:
"R.I.P. Kimveer Gill... you fucked up! but there are a few of us out there who understood you, and know you weren't a bad person, you made the most sense out of everything... good people do bad things too."

Is this tolerable free speech? Isn't there something someone somewhere should be doing about this kind of evil crap? How do you reason with such callous ignorance? To me, it indirectly preaches hate and glorifies murder. Is it the same as those empty gansta culture threats or different? To me, it seems conspicuously different. At least rappers have a discernible goal in glorifying violence- ass, money and social injustice. But this is an entirely different twisted mind-set. It's the glorification of the senseless murder of innocent people by immature, morally bankrupt urban white trash kids without consciences. And worse, it is the deification of killers as if they were victims - literally forced to kill because society made their lives too painful. It is the ultimate in childish irresponsiblity, but it is coming from young adults.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe it's just that kids like her thinks it's cool and iconoclastic to play devil's advocate. Maybe they get street cred points for crying a sympathetic black EMO tear for the killers, because well, you know, teen life is hard.

I don't know if you can tell but this shit is really bugging me this week. Though I know its wrong to tar and feather all kids, it makes me want to smack every sullen teen freak I see right in the neck. But as my friend Harding pointed out yesterday, justice is the only way to sort such things out. Violence does not end violence. Damn- when did I get all grown up?

Teen Psycho Groupies

I am addressing this post to whoever wrote to Rosie DiManno, prompting this piece (click HERE), published today in the Toronto Star. In e-mails to DiManno, some ignorant, melodramatic kid, who says her name is Ashley Harrison (*see update below!), defended Kimveer Gill's actions and sympathized with the psycho-geek. In lieu of any powerful or potent reply from DiManno, likely owing to the constraints imposed by her medium, I have composed my own response to the pugnacious Ms. Harrison, below.

Letter to Ashley Harrison, somewhere in Quebec:

Listen up, you out-of-touch teen tard: You think Kimveer Gill experienced insurmountable pain? He experienced nothing but selfish, narcissistic masturbatory loserhood. And that fate awaits you too, Ashley!

Kimveer Gill was not remarkable, intelligent or worthy of admiration. He couldn't spell. He wasn't original. His online names were all rip-offs (check my friend Harding's recent piece on one such example HERE). The polls he filled out on his page were mindless time-wasters for bored, lazy ass people without a shred of creativity in their empty heads and souls. He was out of work and probably spent most of his time jerking off to Japanese cartoons in his parent's house, which is where 25 year old losers like him belong, because they are cowardly chicken shits who never grow up. And that's what you are going to be Ashley: A loser, just like your psycho-geek idol.

Do you know why losers like you - Ashley Harrison- and Kimveer feel so different from others and oppressed by the popular, happy people? Because you deserve to feel that way. And hiding in computer fantasy land just prolongs the amount of time you will spend in your miserable life being a miserable loser with an artificial sense of power and belonging. You are the creator of your own undoing. No one is responsible for that but you.

Tell me Ashley Harrison, why should anyone care about you? What have you got to offer anyone other than your boring, pathetic self-pity? Do yourself a favour and shut the fuck up, pull the joystick out of your ass and do something about your problems instead of whining and wallowing away into your own oblivion.

Life is for the living, sweetie. It's not easy to solve problems or deal with pain. But you need to know something- no one has a monopoly on pain. You are not special. We all feel, hurt and bleed. The people you should most despise are those who blame and punish others for their own problems, like Kimveer Gill. That's probably what someone did to you along the line to make you the bitter little fuck that you are today. If you want to perpetuate that bullshit, you'd better get ready for a lifetime of disappointment, failure and sadness.

Ashley, you wrote: "Kimveer will be greatly missed by the people who actually understood him ... the people who don't have their heads up their asses." You know what, that would have been a much better way for that loser to die- with his head up my ass, choking on my shit.

This advice doesn't come cheaply either sweetie- I'm hard core through and through and had to claw my way to where I am now. I had a lot of friends like you in my life when I was younger who are now either dead or might as well be. That said, it's never too late to get your shit together. If you chose to continue on this path I encourage you to have a nice life - or whatever facsimile of a life it is that you manage to feebly and passively eke out.

Update: What is with this site's history with Ashleys? We now know who Ms. Harrison probably is, complete with pix and the school she attends in Quebec. In fact, you can view her myspace page by searching for her using her real name. I won't publish the link here, but I encourage you all to check out the face of stupid for yourselves.

Weeding out the Psycho-Geeks

What is wrong with our society, when sociopathic, loser nutcases like Kimveer Gill can live amongst us and escape our social distant early warning system? Well, for one thing, I believe that social DEW has been rendered impotent by the proliferation of online teen culture. The warnings are everywhere. The digital evidence is preserved like fresh blood-filled footprints in the posts that these selfish, narcissistic freaks leave on web sites, yet no one confronts them. Why?

Gill wrote this on his Vampirefreaks.com profile "Life is a video game, you've got to die sometime'' and talked about dying in a hail of bullets. Umm, if you saw your friend, kid or even a stranger writing stuff like that online, in front of the world, don't you think you might investigate a little further? Maybe not. Gill was just another in an increasingly long line of young, disenfrachised, lazy-ass e-geek stereotypes.

You see his kind of pseudo-bravado everywhere on myspace for instance. Gill apparently used the name Angel of Death online. A quick search on myspace brings up 667 other Angels of Death hovering around the electronic netherworld. Goths and the like post pictures of themselves bloodied, mangled or posing as pale corpses regularly. It's fun for them. It's commonplace and pervasive. So, how do we weed out the psycho-geeks from the innocent horror-loving EMO kids, goths and metal fans- let alone from the population of jocks and seemingly average kids?

Vague laws and ISPs and internet users who assume absolutely no social responsibility are no help. They need to step up and set and enforce standards. I'm not advocating censorship- god forbid- but holding kids accountable for saying things online like "I'm going to kill everyone". Why can you say that on a vampire lovers' site if you are dressed up like a freakin' Transylvanian Duke, but not in a line up at an airport terminal? It's logically absurd.

If it were up to me, we would thin the herd- in a legal manner, of course. I have no sympathy for such dispossessed lonely people or their families. We, as a society, breed them - it's our fault. We need to cut them at the hamstrings before they leap. The tender, caring approach does not work with these people. If you are that broken you have no place in our society and should be locked up forever, no matter what age. Monsters like Gill aren't created over night. They grow and flourish and all the while the warning signs are ignored by the cowardly.

Mucho Caliente!!!

In keeping with my penchant for omni-cultural harmony and hot Spanish T&A (tequila and the Andes, you horned-up sex doggies!), I have to plug Telelatino's Salsa on St. Clair street festival which kicks off tonight. In 2005, the event's inaugural year, more than 200,000 people descended upon the couple of blocks that I am proud to call my hood.

There is something for everybody at this street party. There are several awesome latin bands playing on different street corners, as well as on the main stage, cultural vendors and a kids' play and stage area.

Most importantly though, there is plenty of booze, food and hot latino/latina eye candy. What more could you ask for in a cultural event? Come one, come all. Ride the red rocket or bring your red rocket. But whatever you do, haul that sweet ass of yours uptown to St. Clair and experience a little of what I get to love and covet everyday!

For info and directions check the link out HERE. Have a great weekend kiddies- I know I will!

Cheer Up Canada

A new "study" says Canada, if it were some monolithic, animated entity would be relatively unhappy compared to the other countries of the world. We scored 111th out of 178 countries on a feel-good scale. I, for one, have a problem with demographic studies like these. They look at key indicators in a very biased way. The way they structure the methodology simply prescribes the results. Why couldn't they construct a more realistic paradigm within which to rank countries? For instance, I'm sure we would be leaders in being miserable. We could blow the competition out of the water when it comes to mindless consumerism. Surely, we'd rank at the top of any selfish and ignorant scale.

The study said we would be a lot happier if we didn't leave such a giant ecological foot print. Why can't we just look on the bright side for a change? You know what they say about those with big feet, right? Christ, can't we just cheer up? What a bunch of pessimistic, cynical fucking assholes we've become. And why do we always have to swear so much?

Look, I can't type anymore! I feel the urgent need to go punch someone from a happy country in the neck. Anyone know where I can find a radiantly-smiling Vanuatuan?

Soccer Balled!

Ok, now that I've expunged all that sensitive, feel-good World Cup crap from my brain it's back to the painfully bizarre. As you know, every joyous event has an underbelly of absurdity, and I'm about to tell y'all about it, yo. This one is fo' the fellas in da howse today.

You all know that classic male-targetted cartoon/slap stick comedy scenario: Coyote falls from cliff, lands with legs straddling fence? Or cowboy jumps from top of saloon and lands backwards nut-first on the horsey? Well, this actually happened the other day - Italy's V-Day- amidst the craziness on St. Clair.

On Sunday, as we waded through the mess of insane Italy fans on the sidewalk, a group of 15 year old boys went screaming past us, flags rippling. The straggler- a skinny olive-skinned lad with hair gelled to the max and wearing big baggy soccer shorts was running to catch up to his friends and whizzed by my arm -- almost on the edge of the curb. See the picture above?

In the flash of a second, about 4 feet in front of us, his head disappeared and his ass went straight up in the air - stopped dead at the sack by an unseen bike post!!! Instinctively, all 4 guys present in our group immediately clutched our tender packages in mimed sympathy and grunted out loud. Then we stood there gawking in beer-inspired smirking amazement, as Nads the Impaler peter-tottered on the top end of that bike post for what seemed to be about 20 seconds. Poor kid.

We saw him about 10 minutes later. He had caught up to his paisannos, and was huddled in a ball in a bank kiosk as his buddies howled. In the end though, I'm confident that he was comforted by the swollen pride he felt at Italy's cup win. At the very least, he had gained himself a nice big souvenir set of Azzurri balls.

The View from Little Italy

It may be trite, but there is absolutely no option for me today but to write about Italy's World Cup win. You see, I live in Toronto's St. Clair West neighbourhood - the quintessential Little Italy. Yesterday, we had some Italian friends over from the burbs - Woodbridge, which is basically Little Italy north- to watch the game. Also, our neighbour CJ- who has deep roots in France- was there. My WASPy wife, me the Ukie, my rapidly-growing almost-2-year-old daughter and our friend Elana- an American-Canadian Jewish-Greek (long story) all ate prosciutto and Camembert, drank Dutch beer and broke bread while taking in the final showdown. After the winning goal, we ran out to the porch to hear the tidal wave of roars originating on the Corso Italia pour down St. Clair, through the neighbourhoods of Italians, Jamaicans, South Americans, Portuguese and everyone else under the sun. In minutes, the entire area erupted into a deafening din which sustained itself well into the night from that moment on.

We had to get out there, so we waded through the swarming masses of ecstatic Tri-Colore adorned revellers -- many of whom were likely not Italian either. The pure joy emanating from these hundreds of thousands was contagious. And the event was as conspicuous for its festivity as it it was for what didn't happen. There was no violence. No lawlessness. No injury.

But the day didn't end for us there. We then subwayed ourselves down to Queen's Park, because despite the celebrations in our hood, we couldn't miss checking out one of our favourite summer cultural festivals, AfroFest. Within minutes, we were enveloped by thousands who came to experience African music, food and culture. After a while we were drawn back to the happy insanity that continued to grow in our absence only a few stops away.

Even though I'm not Italian, I felt immense pride in my heart yesterday. I even felt sentimental. Some might ask "Why would you care? You're just a mange cake". To those I would say this: What happened in this city yesterday exemplified the best that Toronto has to offer. The beer buzz, the people and the warm blanket of an inclusive community all made me realize I would not want to be living anywhere else on this globe. It also made me think how happy I am to know that my daughter will have the rich, unique and priceless advantage of growing up in the most omni-cultural city on the face of the earth.

Viva Italia! Vive le Canada!

PRIDE Queerics

In honour of PRIDE week, I've put together a few of my fave classic queerics. Can you name the song and band? (No googling cheaters! And pls., only one answer per comment.):

1. "This is not a locker room. And that's a surfboard not a yacht."
2. "Eat meat on friday that's alright. Even like steak on a Saturday night. I can bitch the best at your social dos. I get high in the evening sniffing pots of glue."
3. "Pushed around and kicked around. Always a lonely boy. You were the one that they'd talk about around town. As they put you down."
4. "Beauty's where you find it, not just where you bump and grind it".
5."Dear Mummy, Dear Daddy: Now I'm nineteen as you see. I'm handsome, tall, and strong. So what the hell gives you the right to look at me, as if to say "Hell, what went wrong?"
6. If you like adventure, don't you wait to enter, the recruiting office fast. Don't you hesitate. There is no need to wait. They're signing up new seamen fast!"
7. "What's the principal doing with her? Who's the guy? Is he screwing with her? What's her perfume? Tigress by Faberge. It make me cream my jeans when she come my way."
8. "If I, I get to know your name, well I, could trace your private number, baby."
9. "We want lovin', we want laughter again. We want heartbeat, we want madness to end. We want dancin', we wanna run in the streets. We want freedom, to live in this peace."
10. "Sometimes the clothes, do not make the man."

Bone-us question: "Bound to deliver as you give and I collect. Squealing impassioned as the rod of steel injects. Lunge to the maximum, spread-eagled to the wall. You're well equipped to take it all !!!"

Happy PRIDE kiddies, K

Shameless Flogging

I have no shame or scruples. In fact, I don't even know what scruples are. All I know is that you need to check out this site and help my friends choose their first radio single, which will be released very, very soon. My friends' names are Mike Turner (ex-OLP) and Pete Lesperance (Harem Scarem). Their band is called Fair Ground. You will be hearing a lot about them very soon.

What this whole project amounts to is a democratization of the music industry decision-making process. In my books, that is cool shit. Who needs stuffed shirts to tell you what you should be listening to?

Check out the tunes. If you don't like them, don't vote. Simple as that. The response to date has been phenomenal. Already, thousands have surfed on in to check out the blog and tunes. Media have talked about it. Be all that you can be.

So, get up out of that saggy chair and...no wait- stay on that chair because it's really hard to click when you stand up. Call your Mom and say "hey, come on over Mom. Let's have a shot of Jagermeister and vote for a Fair Ground tune. We don't spend enough quality time together." Take your wireless lap top out into your empty in-ground pool. Smoke a joint. Take off your pants. Put on oven mitts and work boots, paint your face orange and vote. Often. Vote like your life depends on it. Vote like you really have to pee. What-the-fuck-ever.

Please? I love you. No really. I do.