Whenever anything big gets planned for Dope City shit gets raised. Dope City dreams big but at heart we are happy passing a joint around on the village green or drinking beer and watching the first rate pussy shake it at the Drake or the Cecil.
So nobody had better have been surprized when a few people got together to spoil the rich motherfuckers' fun when the 2010 Winter Olympic countdown clock was unveiled and wound up the other day. The spoilers rightly understand there is a big party planned and the unwashed are uninvited to participate - unless you call cleaning up all the empty beer cans participating. If there is a party that needs wrecking Dope City is never short of a crew unafraid to have a go.
It is as though the coke that goes up the noses of the rich has been blessed by the motherfucking Pope and the blow that hits the bloodstream of the poor has been pissed on by Willie Picton's pigs.
Does anybody but me remember that Dope City democratically turned thumbs down on the first attempt to get an NHL franchise back in the '60s? If you are one of those people who voted against the Canucks dashing our hockey hopes for every one of the past 30-plus years, have a fucking beer.
I am not tuned into East End politics well enough any more to tell you if the latest party wreckers were just another gaggle of Marxist fools or not. But I am tuned into the land sharks and their greedy plans for the streets I am still most at home on. In a few years you will not recognize the place. Bring a camera the next time you have the time to go for a few beers on Hastings. The changes down there will soon dwarf the toppling of a few trees in Stanley Park.
And it is a shame because the buildings in the East End are the only ones left that retain any of the character of the loggers, miners and fishermen that built the drunken brawl that is the history of Dope City.