20 October 2017
It has been two years since
Took control of the government of the overweight,
Out of shape land known as Canada.
Two years to prove themselves as the first
In history to have even the faintest
Idea of what the word ethical means.
17 October 2017
If there was one thing,
One specific thing,
I would like to see happen
In the next four years,
It is the return,
After far too many
Decades on the shelf,
Of train service on the
South side of the Fraser River
From Dope City to easternmost
Reaches of the Fraser Valley.
That would be so fucking cool:
A train for me to ride on in my retirement years.
14 October 2017
My Saturday morning began as many of mine do.
Up early enough to wash a couple loads of laundry.
English football on the television.
Cup of milky tea.
Peruse the Internet where I learned Bob Seger has recorded a marvellous cover of Lou Reed’s “Busload of Faith.” Song has everything. The voice that sold one fuck of a lot of Chevies; couple of wicked guitar solos - one on slide, a technique Reed avoided; groovy chick back up singers - something that made Reed’s dick swell; uptown horns that even make old Detroit Rock City motherfucker me want to shake some fucking action.
First time ever I cannot wait for a Bob Seger record to be released and I only have to wait until November.
12 October 2017
Enthusiasm. There is a black and white virtue for you. An under appreciated virtue it is too.
Have, at last, added The Head Cat record "Rock 'n' Roll Riot On the Sunset Strip" to the collection and given it a listen.
Enthusiasm to be found there in spades if you are as keen on that sort of thing as I am.
8 October 2017
Hunky Z, Kitty, Sonja and I are four old cats. Elders we are. Not old enough for senior's discounts/old enough to be asked all the fucking time if we are.
Been around the block a few times. So when we looked at our respective skies on Saturday morning, the skies to the east featured clouds with the Steepleton chief of police's squeally hungover farm boy disposition, we all knew we had to change our Sundown Lake plans. The pub would have been as inviting as ever but the lakeside walk we needed would have been murder beneath the Steppenwolf hammer clouds.
The western sky, however, was much more promising. Did not yet have the confident, warm disposition of John Horgan but it looked like it soon would. We chose Heavestown. The river walk there is not near as nice as Sundown Lake's shore but the pub is every bit as inviting and they were sure to have the gas fireplace stoked.
The highway drive to Sliverville was uneventful except for one lone driver who was obviously from another country tooling along 55kph below the speed limit.
"Those motherfuckers don't need guns and bombs to take down our society!" I moaned amid the chaos his lack of conformity had caused. "All the crazies have to do back in crazy land is hand out driver's licenses to people and help them over here! Fuckers have already fucking near bankrupted ICBC and put half the population in a grave or the hospital!"
Sonja looked at me empathetically. I was losing my shit. Only a long walk and several alcoholic beverages could save me.
"You're cute when you lose your shit Beer. Good thing you're not a cop: you'd be on paid suspension pretty much permanently," she insincerely consoled me.
Kitty drove from Sliverville to Heavestown. I think she may have been drinking before we arrived. Good thing the Sliverville cops are drowning in murders or else one of them might have spotted her muscling her way through one red light after another. Now I truly needed a drink. I am one of those feminist guys who think women should be able to everything but drive. The Saudis will rue the day they modernized their driving rules for women. i.e. It was the only sensible law in their whole shitfuck kingdom.
Kitty looked at me in squirming in the back seat. "At least I drive better than you Grandpa!"
Hunky Z shared some capped dried magic mushrooms with us on our walk. "It is all I have left," he too moaned. "The rains will soon have me as fully supplied as the American invasion of North Korea again though."
The sun came out as we made our way to the pub and shone in their picture windows the whole time warming us like sea lions on the rocks. There was a decent satellite radio station entertaining us. Grub was exceptional. Hunky Z was on the dark rum; Kitty knocked down Canadians; Sonja enjoyed the red, red wine; I chose the draught cider - you cannot knock back anything faster than draught cider.
We toasted the North Koreans often. Their ashes will soon be blowing across the North Pacific to fertilize our forests.
7 October 2017
For several months now we British Columbians have been governed by two new political parties: the social democratic NDP, who I am kin to, and the fucking Greens, the NDP's cuddly girlfriend. Thus far the ride the new government has been giving has been much more agreeable than the bestial ride we had been given for years by Social Credit Redneck Liberal Conservative Party of British Columbia. You all (collectively) really ought to consider or re-consider your political options next time you have the opportunity to do so.
It is that great.
I only hope these words survive the war we all know is glowing on the horizon.
6 October 2017
People, sometimes, even though they have to work the next day, stay up all hours watching television, watching movies, watching, watching, watching...and you all know a little drink, dope and pills make that way more fun. Next morning you do not want to be working near those fuckers.
Sonja and I we do not do that shit. Except for the drinking of course. What we do is stay up late listening to music. Last night we put on a four record compilation Warner Brothers put out in 1973 called Superstars of the '70s. Alice Cooper, Rolling Stones, The Doors, Joni Mitchell, The Faces, Black Sabbath - the usual rock 'n' roll suspects and many more besides. Plus loads of songs by people we did not much care for when Social Credit roamed our back woods and before Trudeau gave us all the finger: The Bee Gees, Carly Simon, America, James Taylor and Yes to name a few.
"Even the shitters sounded better than the crap on the radio today," was how Sonja summed it up as I secured the tone arm to its rest and dimmed the light of the warm amplifier and we wrapped the black as Tom Petty's black leather jacket night up with a front room kiss.
4 October 2017
We have relationships with artists,
Artists we have never met.
They do shit for us
No one else does.
They make us dream,
They make us dance,
They make us fuck,
They make us snort,
They make us drink,
They make us sing,
They make us heave,
They make us play
With our ding-a-ling-a-ling.
3 October 2017
Some friends of mine and me stayed up all through the night
Rockin' pretty steady 'till the sky went light
Didn't go to bed
Didn't go to work
I picked up the telephone
Told the boss he was a jerk
- Tom Petty
Sounds as though Tom Petty is pretty much lost to us. I am sad mostly because he was my brother Axel's favourite. Axel saw him several times over the years. What you would call a supporter.
Never saw the man myself except for on the tv. First time was on the Old Grey Whistle Test. Made a favourable impression he did. Like lots of his records. Especially that first one. Impeccable it is. Guess I will be playing his records this weekend and that his (still imminent) death will long remind me of (Canadian) Thanksgiving 2017.