30 May 2015
Hear about Randy Bachman's new record? Called "Heavy Blues." Heard it was fucking excellent so I bought it, in compact disc form, from my local London Drugs. They had shrunk their cd section since I was last in and expanded their record section. Pretty soon I hope some other retailers start selling records too. We may not reverse global warming until our grandchildren all fry like breakfast sausage but we have reversed the death of records and elected the NDP in Alberta so maybe anything is possible.
Played it through a few times already - in the car and the stereo at home. It is motherfucking loud. Makes "Not Fragile" - a loud and proud affair if there ever was one - sound like barefoot Anne Murray.
In the liner notes Randy recalls some advice Neil Young gave him recently. Something about approaching his art ferociously and fearlessly. It is good advice for us all.
Fucking the world for at least 60 years and counting. That is rock 'n roll. That is Bachman's "Heavy Blues."
Go fucking buy it.
26 May 2015
24 May 2015
Appetizers. Drinks. Dinner. Wine. Dessert. Liqueurs.
My life is much like my parent's.
The first half of the evening had gone so well. Hunky Z and Kitty make great dinner pals.
"Any more wine where that came from Beer?"
Then, it was decided, a game of Scrabble was up.
Hunky cleaned our clocks. He plays Scrabble every day. On an electronic device in the Jamaican-Ukrainian Scrabble League.
Seems to be working out for him.
Every day I get further and further behind all you computer motherfuckers. So far behind, yet so far ahead.
I do not care. It is not like I play Scrabble for money. I do, however, feel a nostalgic for the days there was not a Jamaican-Ukrainian on the planet I could not out-Scrabble unaided by computer technology.
20 May 2015
Often I hear it said that the downtown core of the town I grew up in (and later escaped because it was getting too fucked up even for me) is getting better. It is always people who live there who tell me of the ongoing improvement. I never believe them. On the whole just about everywhere is getting worse, not better. Why would my old buttholeville Sliverville be the exception of this generality?
Still I like to check my theory against someone else's observation when I can. Especially when I can do so within 24 hours of their positive assertion that their city is a little less of a Hell Hole than it used to be.
Had business to do in Sliverville anyway on Friday night so I drove into the heart of my Beastly old home. Straight to the Round-Up Cafe for dinner first of all. Best restaurant in all of Sliverville. Home cooked meals, ice cold beer, pretty waitresses and rock 'n' roll music playing on the house stereo. On this particular Friday they were playing BB King like just about everybody with a rock 'n' roll heart was.
Had to park in back due to rush hour parking restrictions. Knew what I would see when I got back there. World class fuckedupness. Like Dope City's East End but with more elbow room and uglier whores. If I had not grown up in and around the Round-Up I would never have left my Cadillac back there out of my sight for one minute nevermind time enough to have dinner and few beer..
It was quiet inside. Not stacked up with customers like it is for breakfast and lunch. Much to my surprise my old neighbour Little Willy was sitting at a window table watching the fuckedupness go by.
"Bring us a couple beer," I whispered to a waitress and walked over, sat down by one of the few people on this planet I knew could drink me under the table.
Two of us little peckers caught up on shit, drank beer and watched the street action. It was a never ending motherfucking freak show. Just like it was when I was a kid, except worse, because, like I said, that is the trend.
"I hear shit is getting better here," I said trying to keep a straight face.
Little Willy laughed. "Just because shit is even worse in Figtown does not make this shitpit neighbourhood any better than it has been since they closed the Cameo."
Figtown is the Shit Hell capital Canada. They even heard of it in Edmonton. When I told people there I knew my way around Figtown I grew larger in their eyes. Like I knew my way around New Jersey for fuck's sake.
You could say I do. The New Jersey of Canada - Sliverville.
17 May 2015
I must be getting fucking old. Staying home this Victoria Day long weekend. Nice not playing bumper cars with everybody else going to and from our favourite mountain hideaways tossing beer bottles (you are boycotting canned beer, aren't you?) out car windows into the black as a black leather jacket Canadian night. Still, I cannot help but feel like some kind of fucking Presbyterian not being out there trying to be a man and kill myself with everybody else.
Tonight it is just Sonja, the Hammer and I being entertained by John Denver. Just because we are not in the mountains does not mean we cannot get Rocky Mountain High.
14 May 2015
Notice how the usual people to get asked what lessons the BCNDP and NDPCanada may have learned from their sister party in Alberta are playing coy?
"Nothing to be learned there."
"Apples and oranges."
"One of a fucking kind."
Not real big on playing coy here at the DC Free Press.
Both the federal and BC NDP need to make it more widely known how little conservative governments and the corporate shits who all too often call the shots these days do for working people or those of us who have invested in small business. Our natural resources are not being used to boost the lives of working people or small business they way they could if the people at the top gave a shit - they do not - give less of a shit than ever in fact.
Whatever happened to putting your country, region, province, city or town ahead stuffing another few billion into a bloated corporation's sock drawer?
Our economy is not as diverse as it should be. Our economy used to have a certain measure of diversity - does not any more. And it is getting less diverse by the day. We have lost far too much of our manufacturing capacity. On the west coast out of control log exports are just one such example. Those logs could (and should!) be feeding new sawmills and extra shifts in our remaining sawmills and re-manufacturing plants.
Both provincially and federally the NDP need to look not at picking up extra seats here and there - the goal has to be taking all the seats in urban areas much as the Alberta NDP took down Edmonton, Lethbridge and Red Deer.
Women and young people, in particular, can do this for the NDP - the only political party in the country that still plays the game for people who work for a fucking living like me. They can do it by talking to their parents and grandparents. They can do it by explaining how badly our present governments are failing them.
Albertans did it right. No reason why everybody cannot do the same. No reason for anybody to support governments anywhere who have been getting it wrong for far too long.
13 May 2015
12 May 2015
There's children in my neighbourhood. Fuckloads. Seen a generation's worth of them grow up and join me in the bar after work or when we are thirsty on the weekend. Some of them have their own children. There is not that much to do here in Steepleton so mostly we drink, fuck and have a lot of children.
Two of them stopped to visit with the Hammer and I today. They were walking their dog too. Nine or ten I suppose.
"Sure got a big dog mister," the boy said. He was younger than his sister but he did all the talking.
"So's your's," I told him.
"Not like that," he said as he petted my grateful for attention dog. The Hammer is easily the biggest dog in the neighbourhood. There's bigger dogs than Newfs but not many.
"We'll be seeing you I guess then," the boy said as the pair made their way home towards dinner and whatever else it is children do these days. When I was their age I had already been drinking about a year.
Good to see them out with their dog. They are being parented well it seemed to me.
The Hammer and I continued our walk too. In the nearby forest birds sang and the homeless did not make a sound as we made our way along the cottonwood fluff cushioned salmon berry lined path. We were enjoying the best part of our day. When I get home from the motherfucking sawmill.
10 May 2015
Now I am home here on the outskirts of Dope City I miss the wind, hail and snow that makes Edmonton such a popular destination for vacationers the world over in May.
Miss the cheap gas prices in Alberta too. 90 cents a litre when I was there.
Miss the optimistic, fearless people of Alberta too. When I was out catching up with shit today I heard a few of the pessimistic, fearful assholes I share my city with talking shit about the NDP win in Alberta.
They think the way forward is to keep supporting ethicless pirates like my province's Liberal Party and my country's Conservative Party.
Nobody has to support those fuckers.
7 May 2015
All of the ridings I worked in (I was one of a corsair's crew of union brothers brought in charged with making sure all Edmonton went Orange) were scarce on resources. Fair amount of volunteers were about but you can never have enough of those. But not a lot of money for signs, stationary, paid staff or any of that. We tried to fill that gap as much as we could and still leave enough money in our jeans to fill up on good Alberta rye once each day's work was done.
If you have never worked, really worked, a campaign, I am talking 14 hour days. We had to drink fast in the evenings because you cannot drink and sleep at the same time so far as I know.
Who we met in one campaign headquarters after another were people who really care about their province's future and backed that up by being willing to do something about it. They were no different from most of the Albertans I met. They care, they are responsible and they are willing to put in the work to do a job right.
On Election Day (which should be a paid holiday by the way) after our work door to door reminding people to get the fuck to the polls we spent an hour or so on the phone making our last voter contact before the corsair captain in charge of our zone house set us free.
"Go get drunk you dirty pirate motherfuckers," she told us before she returned to campaign headquarters to watch the vote tallies come in with the other captains and the candidate.
We went straight to the party. Were driven there by Eddy resident and well known city working people's advocate Mr. Beer N. Morebeer. "The car should be fine here," he said as he parked in an area that looked like it had been transplanted from the Syrian civil war. "I sure as fuck am not driving tonight."
The two of us took to the cold windswept street with fellow corsair hands Santa, Connor and Ralph. We were like boxers who had severely injured an opponent in the ring waiting to see if the other fighter would ever get out of hospital once he had been treated there.
There must have been a thousand people there already. Mercifully the line-up to get liquor tickets was short. We each bought an arm's length of tickets. The liquor line-ups, we knew, would test our patience later - fuck the ticket line-up.
More and more people came, first testing, then exceeding the great hall's capacity. We decided to get out while we could and found a table outside the hall by the bar already claimed by our recently arrived corsair captains and candidate to party at.
Enough numbers had rolled in for television's talking heads to declare the Orange Corsair government, the Wild Boys and their William H. Macy fucking near lookalike leader opposition and the nearly universally despised Conservatives dead last save the seats the Liberal and Alberta Party leaders managed to win for themselves.
We partied like John A. MacDonald. We partied decadent and depraved. We partied like pirates on board a ship full of rum. We partied straight on to our planes.
The people have taken Alberta. Long may they run, motherfuckers.