Toronto's Teeny-Tiny Mayor Rob Ford

Imagine, your dream has arrived. You are Mayor of an important city in North America. You've achieved everything you could have imagined possible.

And today, now into the second year of your first term as Mayor, happens to be the day where you've realized that you have come of age in your role as 'King of Kensington'. You're in your element, you're feeling confidant, you can roll with anybody; any place, any time.

Hell, you can slosh through half a forty pound-er of Vodka in 5 minutes - no problem! You can do this sh*t in your sleep. You can do this, do that, and do the other thing - and still pull off this show that is being Mayor of Toronto.

Easy as Pie. Bring it on!


The sun is shining on The Esplanade, and it's a sleek world down here on the waterfront; with the Grand Boulevard, the glass and steel towers, the Expressway's Art Deco-ish lines. Real World Class down here; feels like Atlantic City, the Trump Plaza Casino or something; some swank, elite European holiday club where only the fashionable, well heeled, super-rich are allowed.

'It's sexy baby! Yeah!! This is like that movie man! And it's St Patrick's Day 2012! Par-tee dude!'

(You're no longer that second brother; the one that's always underestimated; the one who's always left out of the important decisions; the who should never be trusted with the business...)

At the urinal in the washroom at the back of the Brier's Market Bar ... 'Who's the teeny-tiny man now?!' - 'I'm going to show those amateurs how it's done!" ..as he expertly draws out a line on the porcelain lid at the back of the toilet. 


Mayor Ford got really, really drunk that afternoon and evening - and the morning of the next day.

During that time he did beer, vodka, brandy, weed, Oxycontin, cocaine, booze, cocaine, and finally - a rock to finish off the night (morning).

During those hours he made racist Pakistani derisive comments towards an Asian-looking taxi driver (actually calling hm a "Paki"); he called a Staffer a "liberal bitch"; he told three different women at various events, parties, cab rides and stumbling drunken pub crawls - that he was going to preform oral sex on them - and in one case, that he was going to "bang" her vagina.

In one case he used the fact that he had (apparently) slept with one particular Mayors' Office Staffer (and that meant he could therefore dismiss her, because of the fact they had sex means he now owned her? She was his bitch?) ... in order to embarrass her ... in order to negate her attempts to try to talk him into going home (so he wouldn't destroy his term as Mayor).

And in the taxi on the way home in the wee hours of that night's morning, he tells a staffer to get out of the taxi for a minute so he can set up a meeting on his phone that the staffer cannot hear ... And as soon as the taxi pulls up at Mayor Ford's home, he jumps out of the cab (drunk as the high-heavens mind you), gets in his car and drives off - almost hitting the cab as he backs out of his drive.


In the end it's just a passed out, disheveled dumpy man who's mother-in-law finds him passed out in front of the rec-room couch the next morning. No 'pussy banging', no oral sex. Just one last high before it all goes dark; before it all has to get real again.


It's a year later (March 2013) - but it's the same thing. Only this time there are leaks about this behaviour - rather than the wall of silence constructed by loyal Mayors Office Staff doing their job protecting the image of the Office of the Mayor of the City of Toronto.

At this morning's news conference it's about the Sarah Thompson allegation that he was "on something" at the Garrison Ball Fundraiser event the previous day. Allegations that he had done something very inappropriate (grabbed her on the bottom at the public event).

And so the King of Kensington once again strains his blurry eyes through a thumping headache in order to see the questioner through the glare of TV reporters' lights --- to dismiss the charges out of hand.

'That's absolutely not what happened', is what his handlers have told him to say. Deny, deny, deny.


At the urinal in the bathroom off the spacious offices of the Mayor of the City of Toronto he whispers to himself, "Toronto's Teeny-Tiny Mayor is back motherf***ers; I told you didn't I?"

"In my sleep a**holes - In my f***ing sleep!"

------------

Events in this time line were derived from the Toronto Star's Kevin Donovan, Jesse McLean, David Bruser, and Robyn Doolittle's distillation of the evidence that describes Mayor Rob Ford's St Patrick's Day (Saturday, March 17, 2012) - culled from the Stars' investigative reporting - and earlier reports; and a narrative produced by Toronto Police from surveillance and interview notes; written-up by detectives as part of their quest to get a search warrant as part of their "Project Traveller" investigation; and released to the Public by Ontario Superior Court Judge, Justice Ian Nordheimer, on November 13, 2013.

All "thought bubbles" (in italics) - that purport to describe what the subject may have been saying to himself, or thinking to himself - are constructions of the author - an attempt to understand the motivations of the individual in question.

Image via Biking Toronto, Cyclops Blog - http://bikingtoronto.com/cyclops/2010/10/say-what-you-will-about-rob-ford/

Toronto Star - Wed Nov 13 2013 - "Rob Ford staff told police about Ford’s Bier Markt, Garrison Ball outings" - http://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2013/11/13/rob_ford_staff_told_police_about_fords_bier_markt_garrison_ball_outings.html

Toronto Star - Wed Nov 13 2013 - "Rob Ford did drugs, partied with escort on St. Patrick’s Day, police document alleges" - http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2013/11/13/rob_ford_did_drugs_partied_with_escort_police_document_alleges.html



mh


(This blog post has coding that works to display the content well on web-phones, tablets or desktop better that I have yet seen out there. (Accomplished by coding for the smallest screen first - using two width percentage columns aligned right, and left.) Feedback on this is appreciated: how does this display for you on your device of choice? If you re-use the coding in something you publish, please credit the display coding to "Michael Holloway' s FilterBlogs".)

Digital Rights Management could save Public Libraries, the Open Internet - and vise versa

Originally published on my Wall, at Facebook


This really cool:

I'm reading "Days of Destruction, Days of Revolt" by Chris Hedges and Joe Sacco on my desktop!

I went to Toronto Public Library (TPL) online, searched the title; found the ebook entry and clicked on the preview button (a blurb beside the ebook entry says all 4 copies are out already.
(??? '4 Copies' 'Out' ? - that doesn't make any sense - one copy is an infinite number of copies - it's an ebook!!!)

So, like I said, I clicked on the preview instead - and nothing happens - my OS says it will search the internet for the right program to open the file, so I say OK. It came back with nothing. So I copy and searched "Adobe EPUB eBook" (which sits rather innocuously under everything in the Library listing) and that gets me to Adobe's site - where I searched the term internally, and that gets me to the download for the Adobe ebook reader, "Adobe Digital Editions" - http://www.adobe.com/products/digitaleditions/

(Adobe is a victim of their marketing department - which turns English into brand names - which inside the sub-culture of the company become actual English - and then they try to use those words to communicate with us out here - and it doesn't work. I don't understand the words "Adobe Digital Editions", it sounds like a place where I would find ebooks - but I wasn't looking for an ebook, I was looking for an ebook reader - so search didn't work, trial and error got me to the page - it took me some time to get there; turns out "Digital Editions" is the brand name of Adobe's DRM enabled, ebook reader.)

The preview TPL is offering outside of the 'copies' it's being allowed to dole out 4 at a time, is Chapter 1 of the book, the story of Pine Ridge, South Dakota.

I've changed my mind about Digital Rights Management. Hither-to I've been a devote of Cory Doctorow's take on the digital revolution with regards to book publishing. He makes all of his book available online in full from the moment they are published in paper. His take is that he'll make his wages through 'reputation', he makes enough money to keep writing full time by doing speaking engagements, readings of his books etc. - more than he'll earn from the actual sale of the books themselves.

I'm of the opinion now that DRM is great - because it allows Public Libraries to get inexpensive, digital copies of books immediately upon publication - to loan out.

The entire book downloads onto your hard drive - but it's in a kind of Temporary File that erases after a certain amount of time. Users can request a renewal of the ebook - and that is allowed depending on the settings the publisher sets in the loan agreement.

Now - if I was a hacker - intent on defeating DRM there IS a way - as soon as the text of the book makes it's way to my computer screen it IS copy-able - Somehow; I don't know how, but I am as sure as I am that the sun will rise - there is an interface that can be constructed to copy what appears on one's computer screen.

Print Screen of "Days of  Destruction, Days of Revolt" by Chris Hedges and Joe Sacco  - page 13 (Chaper 1) in ebook reader "Adobe Digital Editions"

So then I am victorious-cyberpunk-hacker-champion !!! But what''s the point? The book's available at the Library for free. :)

This is the best argument for DRM I have ever heard.

And I came up with it !

But then the gobbledygook coming out of the special interest media towers isn't much competition - blinded as they are by greed, and the popular media of greed - money.

 * * *


Originally published on my Wall, at Facebook (edited for clarity) (https://www.facebook.com/michael.holloway.90281/posts/441346309243176)




(I want a widget that can take posts I create in FB and posts them here if I click that button on my browser - I say browser because I know FB would never allow the app - at Faceboook it's Everything in - Nothing out.)



mh

Like Jonah and the Whale, I'm out in the Winter - but only so it doesn't eat me

Over at Quirky Outtakes, Todd Tyrtle's "How to rebuild a relationship?" inspired the following...

I don't like winter, but long ago I did. A valley on the Thames River was my year-round play ground. The dog and I knew that short stretch of the valley well; and knew it again after the spring floods reshaped it year after year. 'Rumple' chased field mice he would never catch into snowbanks as high as a western precipice of the valley. I cleared smooth,  idyllic skating ponds barely fed by tiny remnant streams created by melt water's raging torrents.

But now, winter's just a matter of survival.

I'm lucky, I get to chose where I spend it. I don't mean warmer latitudes - I mean where in Toronto I get to spend it. I don't have to go to an office to work, I work from home - and as such I have chosen to live in a building that has a big bay window facing East. It is a place I have chosen in order that I can do just one thing - help myself get through another winter's visit. It's been two years here - so far so good.

I must rise with the sun every morning and make sure I get every minute of the couple of hours of direct sunlight it allows. Together I and the plants I am husbanding, cling to the progress of the celestial cycle that will bring more and more light after the darkness of the winter solstice, December 21.

That and cycling the bike all winter, the daily walks.

It's like visiting a person everyday that you know just isn't one of your friends anymore, but you're pretty sure is someone who's trying to kill you.

What's the line? "Keep your friends close; keep you enemies closer." I'm organizing a snowball fight as soon as the first snow falls. Like Jonah and the Whale - I'm right in there.

Is this all there is of winter? Well no, life goes on, I improve myself day to day - but as far as this sick relationship goes, that would appear to be it.


My comment on Todds page.

Picture from Wikipedia page, "Winter Solstice".



mh

John Isner v Nicolas Mahut: 'a string-bag of offal vs a parched piece of cow-hide'

Thanks to Allan Wood for Twigging me to the Gaurdian UK's Wimbledon 2010 Blog through his great post in "Joy of Sox", "Longest Tennis Match In History Ends On Third Day". I was going to post part of this in comments... but then it turned into something longer than I expected...

At the Gaurdian UK Wimbledon 2010 Blog, Xan Brooks, a Guardian UK associate editor, is writing the days events in short blog style posts that go up on the web page in real time. There's a story developing over at Court 18, one of the "off-broadway" venues at the world's oldest tennis tournament; a match between John Isner and Nicolas Mahut is entering the second hour of a tie breaking fifth set in a match that began the day before and was called due to darkness...


Xan Brooks writes:

"4.05pm: The Isner-Mahut battle is a bizarre mix of the gripping and the deadly dull. It's tennis's equivalent of Waiting For Godot, in which two lowly journeymen comedians are forced to remain on an outside court until hell freezes over and the sun falls from the sky. Isner and Mahut are dying a thousand deaths out there on Court 18 and yet nobody cares, because they're watching the football. So the players stand out on their baseline and belt aces past each-other in a fifth set that has already crawled past two hours. They are now tied at 18-games apiece.

On and on they go. Soon they will sprout beards and their hair will grow down their backs, and their tennis whites will yellow and then rot off their bodies. And still they will stand out there on Court 18, belting aces and listening as the umpire calls the score. Finally, I suppose, one of them will die."

I read on, and on at the Wimbledon 2010 live blog... nothing can beat the hilarious post above reprinted by Allen Wood at Joy of Sox - but quite a while later, this bit of inspiration evolves...

"7.20pm: And so this match goes on and on, on and on. Somewhere along the way, the players have mislaid their names. The man who was once Mahut is now a string-bag of offal. The man who was Isner is a parched piece of cow-hide. The surviving members of the audience don't seem to care who wins. They just cheer and applaud whoever looks likely to make a breakthrough and bring this nightmare to a close. Invariably they are disappointed.

The offal looks fresher, possesses a piercing backhand and still throws itself about the court on occasion. But the cow-hide can serve and has the advantage of going ahead by one game and forcing the offal to catch-up. This the offal is only too happy to do. It hits a backhand down the line and then follows that up with an ace, and the score now stands at 45 games apiece."

A few posts later:

"7.45pm: What happens if we steal their rackets? If we steal their rackets, the zombies can no longer hit their aces and thump their backhands and keep us all prisoner on Court 18. I'm shocked that this is only occurring to me now. Will nobody run onto the court and steal their rackets? Are they all too scared of the zombies' clutching claws and gore-stained teeth? Steal their rackets and we can all go home. Who's with me? Steal their rackets and then run for the tube.

It's 48-48. What further incentive do you need?"

And then,

"8pm: Don't look now but I think the cow-hide has officially expired. John Isner stands at the baseline. He is facing the right way but he is no longer moving and the string-bag of offal peppers him with aces left and right to bring the score to 50-50. But Cow Hide is still facing the right way and that says something. And he is still vertical, and that says something too. What it says, unfortunately, is that the match is not quite over yet."

Xan Brooks is like a dieing fish, out of water and on the beach, his breaths of inspiration are getting shorter and shorter, his attempt to power through now fading, and a tide is creeping in that threatens to swallow him away. Luckily the match is suspended due to darkness, again... No one notices as a comatose commentator drifts away on a blissful ebbing tide.


Image Credit: GulfNews.com/AFP

(The match begins again the next day tied 6-4, 3-6, 6-7, 7-6, 59-59. 11 games later it finally ends, John Isner prevails in the longest match ever played anywhere: 6-4, 3-6, 6-7, 7-6, 70-68.)



Xan Brooks picture; Guardian UK profile



mh

Creative Living and Hard Wired Failure

Lately I've been learning to write computer code. I've been reading books and web sites about Html and Css. I've been reading the code behind blogger to understand all the user variables you can change. I'm writing a program for scoring baseball games and I'm turning one of my computers into a server.

All this machine logic is making me depressed.


Somehow, the parts of my brain involved to story telling are important for keeping me centered. Word play, the association of words, one to another in context that relate to anthropology - to human civilization are important to me. I lose my way if I don't dabble in word play; my faith in my nature, and coincidentally in the nature of the other fails, and I become rutted in a reactionary theology of negativity where the field lines of the universe conspire against me and all things that propel us all forward. In my neurosis I then flail myself for this happenstance. An ego gone mad - a hedonistic error piled on top of subjective observation that leaves me at the centre of my own illness, and cure. A place where if I start thinking 'right', the field lines of the universe would re-align to produce goodness, progress and the future.

Oddly, this is exactly what happens when I take the time to write creatively.

---> :)



mh

Crack Cocaine Allusion Hidden in The Replacements "Can't Hardly Wait" Obvious in Justin Townes Earl's' Take

Sometimes song writers bury the meaning of a song in metaphor and allusion. One example came to my attention the other day; the lyrics follow under the video in case your not familiar with the tune. Something tells me The Replacements, under pressure from the motion picture industry, were forced to - or chose to - straighten-up the song to guarantee a specific censorship rating.

'Can't Hardly Wait' written by The Replacements




I'll write you a letter tomorrow
Tonight I can't hold a pen
Someone's got a stamp that I can borrow
I promise not to blow the address again

Lights that flash in the evening,
Through a crack in the drapes

Jesus rides beside me
He never buys any smokes
Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff
Ashtray floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes

See you're high and lonesome
Try and try and try

Lights that flash in the evening,
Through a hole in the drapes
I'll be home when I'm sleeping
I can't hardly wait

I can't wait. Hardly wait.



But while listening to Justin Townes Earl's' version on CBC 2 the other day I'm sure I heard these lyrics(changes in bold italics colour).

I'll write you a letter tomorrow
Tonight I can't hold a pen
Someone's got a stem that I can borrow
I promise not to blow the screen again

Lights that flash in the evening,
Through a crack in the drapes

Jesus rides beside me
He never buys any smoke_
Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff
Ashtray floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes

See you're high and lonesome
Try and try and try

Lights that flash in the evening,
Through a hole in the drapes
I'll be home when I'm sleeping
I can't hardly wait

I can't wait. Hardly wait.


Justin Townes Earl's' - 'Can't Hardly Wait'




It's a better song the second way.

Several references to the effects of the drug tie in with the 'stamp'/'stem' and address/screen re-write, (address doesn't even fit the rhythm of the melody):

• "The crack in the drapes, Lights that flash in the evening," refers to the long bic lighter flickering that, from the outside of the house advertise the presence of a crack party;
• "the hole in the drapes", specifically the attention to the details of security, refers to paranoia the drug infuses in long term users.
• The lines "Hurry up, hurry up, ain't you had enough of this stuff, Ashtray floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes, See you're high and lonesome" are the lines in the song that first grabbed my attention,
  
• "I'll be home when I'm sleeping" both refer to the drugs amphetamine effects.

Either I'm projecting or I've had too many coffee's this morning.
Comments always welcome.



mh

250,000 People Attend Torontos' Victoria Day 2009 At Ashbridges Bay Park

"an energy filled good natured tsunami of benevolence and frivolity"

From the corner of Woodbine & Gerrard

After the Victoria Day fireworks finish at Ashbridges Bay Park, a Torrent of young people filled the sidewalks and every north bound bus up Woodbine for nearly an hour.There must have been at least 250,000 people down there!

Some kids were firing fireworks 10 houses south of me - sideways - across the grid-locked traffic at their friends on the other sidewalk; some were flying right by, into front yards and wooden houses. No one was hurt and there were neighbourhood people around, like me to make sure that no fires started; pretty stupid but isolated.

I stood outside the door of my shop at around 11:00 pm, smiling and telling tired hill climbers who'd ask, "It's was just one more major to the subway! Right up that hill." I pointed.

All in all, an energy filled, good natured tsunami of benevolence and frivolity.

Yeah Toronto!



mh

The Toxicology Of Propaganda

Just to make myself clearly obtuse, here's a few one-liners I've come up with over the years on the subject of the obfuscation of information pertaining to human toxicology - especially the nature of petrochemicals - and other health related myths.

The one-liners are intended to be obvious, grabbing ones consciousness back from the propaganda distraction - a branded "reality-scape" - governments and corporations wish to create to hide decisions that effect us greatly, but which they made behind our backs.

Michael Holloways Re branded Reality-Scapes:

Ozone depletion doesn't cause skin cancer - car exhaust causes skin cancer!

Cigarette smoking doesn't cause cancer - above ground nuclear testing causes cancer!

..to be continued...



mh

Raccoon Family Use Stealth Advance Through Resident's Garden

The Raccoon family that live in a hollow tree in the garden - sneak up with military precision to eat our compost and garbage. These critters behavioral adaptation to the urban landscape can drive home-owners crazy, especially when they set up residence in attics, garages or under decks.

I think these Procyon Lotor(Latin) are cute - and interesting.

Luckily for them, a big hollow tree is home - rather than an attic or a chimney, where they might be hurt, or captured.

(image)

From: Common Raccoon - Wikipedea

"The dark patches around the eyes, perhaps the raccoon's most prominent trait, are reminiscent of a "bandit's mask," which has enhanced its reputation for mischief, vandalism, and thievery."

When Mom and Dad are training the kits (baby's)to scavenge, they march in single file for safety. They move like soldiers on a secret mission.

image

From a remote cam that snaps a picture via motion detection. Notice they're in single file formation.

Quietly sitting in the yard last night, I watched the family cross a fence near the hollow tree. First came mom; smoothly, calmly, she crossed the fence to safety. Then she turned and looks back, at that moment a little one appears out of the darkness and begins to cross. As soon as the first baby raccoon reaches mom, another begins to cross. Like clock-work they all move across, all at the same speed; one... two... three... four... Five little ones! Last comes Dad, walking point at the back, the most vulnerable flank.

It all happens so smoothly and silently, if you weren't watching, you could easily miss it.



Above image: Raccoon Family taking a break - in defensive formation.




Original:05/05/07. SEO edit/mh

Raccoon Attacks Garbage And Residents Castle.

Images

I heard a thump on the deck in the backyard, so I turned on the outdoor light. Illuminated are five baby raccoons slowly wobbling about the deck. Oblivious to me standing at the patio door, they continue scanning with their noses for food. A clay flower pot lay on it's side by the steps.

When I slide open the patio door, their hard-wired defensive instincts kick-in and they scurry for cover.

Raccoons are scavengers, they'll eat anything that's not moving; everything you would throw in the compost bin - or the garbage. They have claws, like a bears, that are good for digging and climbing. They never attack, but they will not retreat, unless they deem it is safe to do so. Their best defense are their claws, so turning and running render raccoons defenseless.

Later that night I hear another noise, the curb-side garbage pales topple, so out I go to investigate, because cleaning the mess in the morning is more work and less fun than playing security guard now. Out the patio doors at the back, around to the front along the driveway... And there it is, this beast of a coon; he's about two feet long, and looks like he'd weigh fifty pounds.

He stops prying off the triple bungee-corded garbage pale lid, and stands there on his hind legs, balancing on the toppled pale - staring at me.

My first instinct is to attack - he's got my garbage pale and he's not responding to the fact I'm four times his size and that scares me. So I bluff an attack to free my garbage pale!

And he stands there.

Then I remember a lesson of my experience with these guys over the years. I stop my bluff and stand still. Then - very purposefully - I take one step back. Nothing happens, so I take another step back. Apparently that's clear enough; and off he goes.

My adrenaline is up, my hands are tingling - it's my hard-wired defense response - and it almost made me a bad guy.

I light up a smoke and exhale a long plum into the starry night, I survey my Kingdom.

I'll have to add another bungee cord to that garbage pale lid...







5/1/07 edited seo/mh

Fun Facebook in Juxtaposition with Virginia Tech Tragedy

Early Monday morning Toronto, April 16; very nice day, it's spring at last - you can feel it in the air - maybe the oxygen levels are up a little – there's a craziness in the air, a frenetic kind of feeling...

I punched the computer; threw on the radio; and began to create coffee.

I prime my story-writing brain with National Public Radio; but soon the voices will be in the back of my head, and I'll be blogging down a pathway in search of a twig.

The twig appeared on NPR, news at 10:00; a shooting at Virginia Tech, a lock-down, nothing more...

I have been interested in the phenomena of the serial and mass murderers since the 1970's - when a peer of mine took a hunting rifle to school in a nearby town.

In the early eighties Elliott Leytons excellent work, 'Hunting Humans' came out; and I gave it a read. I have followed the science of profiling with interest ever since. The most strange and distorted individuals, sometimes offer the most interesting reflections of a culture.

The X-files, the 1990's TV series, starred David Duchovny as Fox Mulder, FBI profiler. The shows writers used up-to-date theory and research to punch up the script. One of my favorites.

I knew right away this was my twig - I also knew this was going to be a lousy day. As a writer though, it would be a rewarding one.

I knew a fast breaking story like this one could change the way news is consumed. In the San Francisco earthquake of 1989, CNN went live for at least 12 hours (I feel asleep), until the next morning. It was the first time a network had done this kind of news coverage. CNN's next big gig was the 1991 war with Iraq. Brought to you live; with the CNN correspondent sending video as American Bombs rained down around him; and anti-aircraft tracer fire lit the sky at mid-night.These two events took CNN from small player to a major in the news business.

Now perhaps the Internet was about to experience a similar metamorphosis.

My plan was to watch a national story unfold in real time on the Internet, and write about the experience.


So I click on my FireFox icon, and Boolean search: Virginia + Tech + Blogs.

I've found the ‘Blog 'O' Sphere’ is a good place to find citizen journalists close to the scene as a story is breaking - like Baghdad Blogger in 2003 and the Blogs out of Beirut, under Israeli siege in the summer of 2006.

Interesting, No Bloggers, No MySpace...

List, List, List. Common thread, come on. What's common other than VTech?

Facebook! Everyone at Virginia Tech is on Facebook!

So I joined.

Apparently, so did a 'million' other people.

I'm exploring its Web 2.0 possibilities now.

Yin & Yang, Dam Yin & Yang.



mh