Saturday, April 10, 2021

Previously Non-ironic ... Again

THEN: Avenue Road, north of Bloor, April 10, 2020.

NOW: King Street West, west of Spadina, April 9, 2021.

Along with reprising photos from my blogs a year ago, I feel like I want to check on any observations I made about Doug Ford.

A year ago, Ford was riding high in public approval polls (69%) because of his response to the pandemic. For the record, I wasn't persuaded Ford was up to the task.

These days, as Ontario settles into its third state of emergency, and record infection levels, Ford scores a 50% approval rate. Even the National Post seems surprised by this. The Post speculates it may have to do with the comparative invisibility of the opposition leaders, so those polled most approved of the only guy whose name they recognized.

Day Drinking in 1988

I considered summarizing what follows, but I think I'll just give it to you straight. This is from pages 15 to 17 of a 19-page hand-written letter I sent to the Jewinskis in late May, 1988. The excerpt has been edited for length.

... we rendezvoused with Kate 'n' Ed at our apartment where we did a bottle of fizzy liquid to death and then retired to our comfy beds. The next day we met up with Kate 'n' Ed's friends and recommenced drinking. These people were highly-paid professionals who dealt with a lot of stress during the week, so they vented a lot of steam on the weekends. They stoked their fires with "Cuba Libres" - a full glass of rum with enough Coke for colour but not too much or bubbles would ruin the drink. [I decided on a different beverage, something ostensibly less full of booze] in order to reach a cruising level of alcohol in my bloodstream. It was still morning. I could see the drinking was going to last all day, so, in the interest of my own survival, I worked to meet and maintain an operational level of inebriation.

From the 26th floor of the Toronto Hilton where the drinking began, we walked along Yonge Street until we found a place to eat and drink. That was brunch. Then we went back to the Hilton for more drinks. Then we went to a place on Adelaide called Catalin's where we ate and drank some more. That was dinner. Then we went to the Spadina Hotel to hear the brother of someone in the group perform in the tradition of Woody Guthrie. Then we caught a cab to the Clinton at Christie and Bloor where Jack de Keyzer and his band played short sets between George Thorogood videos played at brain-splitting volume. During a wild set of bone-shaking rockabilly, I fell asleep.

My nap refreshed me and I was feeling my old self by the time the show ended. The group dispersed into cabs with the plan to rendezvous at the Hilton to drink some more. Bruce and Kate 'n' Ed and I grabbed a cab and yakked cheerily as the driver took us to the hotel. Kate asked the driver if we were talking too loud, our volume turned up because of the bar we'd just been in.

The driver seemed not to mind. "Oh, no, man," he practically screamed. "You are the coolest ever yet, man! No one in my cab has ever been so cool!" And so on. He babbled at length to us about many things. He told us that in his country, Jamaica, when "you come man, you know when you are coming, you say TAHEETA!"

So we all started hollering TAHEETA out the cab windows, which drew concerned stares from the doormen at the Hilton as we pulled up. They didn't look any happier when Ed kicked a white limo that had, Ed said, almost run over his foot.

Then we were on the 26th floor again, drinking rum and Pina Colada juice. Ed had brought his guitar and another fellow had a blues harp. By this point in the evening, my recollections were dim where they were not simply blank, but, Bruce assured me, while Ed and the guy with the harp played sad blues progressions, I performed a long blues rap, loosely based on the confessions of St. Augustine.

Thanks for reading!

Stay safe!

Karen