Film at eleven.

And people wonder why journalists aren’t successful as politicians.  Wonder no more, etc.

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Good read.

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So, on December 2, Cesare Rizzuto, at thecuttingedge180@gmail.com, pops me a line. He writes:

You really are à small man Get over it Ford got votes in not Mr. E health  Get à réal job.

Sweet, short, to the point, albeit almost incomprehensible. Uncharacteristically speechless, I respond with nothing.

Cesare, undeterred, comes back, today:

The more i trad you the more i will vote P.C. Have you ever had à réal. job.

I do not wish to anger the Ford Nation, but I do not know what a “réal. job” is.  Throwing caution to the wind, I respond:

Consider spell check. Please.

What will Cesare say next?

 

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I hate them.

However, I have already found that, if you delete cookies, etc., you can get in with little difficulty.

Anyone else have clever suggestions about how to do so?

P.S. However brief it is, I predict this will be the most-read. most-commented post since the now-legendary Kraft Dinner post of 2008. Comment away!

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Ewg!

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Ben Rayner, no less:

• S—t From Hell, Why Do You Hate Me? (Sudden Death). One could easily write S–t From Hell off as a joke band because it’s a punk combo fronted by noted Liberal strategist Warren Kinsella and, frankly, also because its lyrics are damn funny.

The band’s latest, Why Do You Hate Me?, is an enjoyably prickly and authentic throwback to London circa 1977, not to mention occasionally the Hamilton that gave us Teenage Head at around the same time. Kinsella’s sneer could belong to a chap half his age, and his gleefully puerile handling of droll tunes like “Horny Single Mom,” “Jesus Got Wood” and “The Modern Age” (“F— you and your Facebook page” goes the refrain) exudes a contagious joy.

“Even I think we’ve come a long way and we’re better than just a bunch of middle-age f—sticks with guitars,” guitarist Derek Raymaker quipped to me weeks ago. And they are. They play the Bovine on Dec. 1.

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1. Son One has GTHL game last night.
2. Boy on other team goes to aggressively check him for second time in a minute.
3. Son One raises hands to protect head.
4. Son One’s arms connect with other boys’ head.
5. Son One gets first-ever major penalty and suspension, as other boy allegedly injured.
6. Other boy is off ice for a few minutes, then miraculously returns.
7. Officials do not rule that other boy is ineligible to play due to alleged injury.
8. Other boy continues to play enthusiastically.
9. Son One packs up hockey bag and we leave.
10. Questions abound.

Here’s the question: as you might expect, the severity of a penalty is determined by the seriousness of the offence. If the other boy was (fortunately) not injured at all, and was back on the ice in no time at all, does not the penalty need to be re-assessed? Am I missing something?

Hockey experts, your advice is welcome.

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The coming battle between Ontario Liberals and the Ontario PCs and NDP will not be governed by the Marquess of Queensbury rules. It’s going to be down and dirty. It’s going to be ugly. And those who prefer to spout jargon, bureaucratese and the like are going to be chewed up and spit out.

To win, we need a fighter, not someone who recites bland talking points.

To wit, Pupatello in the Star:

“Our next election will not be like this, where all of us are sitting and getting along,” said Sandra Pupatello, the former MPP for Windsor West, as the event dubbed a “love-in” by one party stalwart wrapped up in this small town near London…Pupatello, 50, who sat out the last election to work on Bay Street, said the 2,500 delegates to the convention must size up candidates based on how they would play against Hudak and NDP Leader Andrea Horwath in a provincial election widely expected for next spring.

She touted her experience as McGuinty’s scrappy deputy leader before the Liberals came to power in 2003, suggesting it would help her run a smoother minority government than most of her rivals, who never served in opposition.

“I want you to have a leader with opposition experience to know how they think – and respect opposition because I was there,” she told 150 party members gathered in an old school gym.

It wasn’t a debate; it was a discussion. It was a friendly chit-chat. Every Ontario Liberal needs to heed what Sandra is saying. Delegates must consider who can win in circumstances that will be decidedly less genteel.

Ontario Liberals are in for the fight of their lives. They need a leader who knows how to get elbows up in the corners, and fight like Hell.

During Saturday’s debate, that’s what I saw: a scrapper with a winning record, onstage with some nice folks from Toronto.

Only one of them can win what lies ahead.

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Left to, um, right: Big City Lib, Brian Shiller, Adam Chalef-Freudenthaler and David Shiller.

Got a government or politician you want toppled? These are your guys.  Assembled at SFH’s gig at the Bovine Saturday night,  these gunslingers shared a pint or two, and toasted the notion that municipal officials shouldn’t be, you know, lawbreakers.

There was also a playing of ‘Rob Ford Must Go,’ to the tune of the Ramones’ ‘Blitzkrieg Bop.’  The band was clueless and tuneless, but these guys aren’t.

You mess with them at your peril, “Ford Nation.”

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I find it a tad ironic that the newspaper that regularly trumpets the results of a polling agency like this, then publishes a piece like this.

Delacourt’s piece was timely.  I wish her bosses would heed what she had to say.

They won’t.

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