Neil Crone - Enter Laughing

The price of democracy.

This is a pretty fantastic country.  I was watching some video footage of the huge Tamil protests on University Ave in Toronto this week.  The Police presence alone was in the hundreds. The clean up job afterwards was no small chore either.  Who foot the bill for all of that do you think? Canadians, that's who. It is, as Police Chief Bill Blair said, the price we pay for democracy.  Too true.  And it's a price I don't mind paying. I only hope that all those folks protesting the injustices being done in Sri Lanka are equally as passionate about looking after this place. I hope we all are.  It's very easy to get complacent when you live in the best place on the planet. I know there are lots of people who watch something like this protest and see nothing but a bunch of malcontents getting worked up about something seemingly a million miles away.  But times change and perhaps one day it will be your turn to get worked up about something.  And won't you be glad then that you live in a nation that not only lets you have your say, but helps you say it.

A cupful of hate...

Thank heaven and all it’s virgins for men like Safwat Higazi.  Mr. Higazi, or ‘The Saffster’ as he is known to many of his Islamic homies, is an Egyptian cleric.  But he’s much more than that.  He’s a saint, this man.  A hero.  A man of courage and vision…albeit myopic.
Mr. Higazi has called on the Arab world to boycott the Starbucks Coffee chain because, in his learned, if somewhat prehistoric, opinion, the mermaid in the centre of the java joint’s logo can be none other than ‘Esther – Queen of the Jews in Persia’. 
And you can’t be too careful.  This Jewish thing is catching.  Look at Sammy Davis Jr.  Ever wonder how much coffee he drank?  Come on…all those late nights with the Rat Pack.  Chances are he hoisted a few Starbucks cups in his day.  And that's how it happens. One day you're singing 'The Candy Man' and slurping cappucino, the next you're wearing a prayer shawl and buying bagels. There are probably a lot of folks out there who are only a latte away from converting.
And Muslims, at least the fanatical variety, are apparently terribly susceptible to this Hebrew bug.  They must be, otherwise why all the gaffuffle over an innocuous logo of a mermaid?  Perhaps Islamic fundamentalists should counter this obvious Semitic plot by opening their own coffee shops.  Call it Jihad Joe or Infidelicious.  “I’ll have a low-fatwa latte, please.”
 They could even have cups with their own logo.  I’m thinking perhaps a stylized, hip picture of a woman being stoned to death.  Or maybe a grinning Mujahadeen with a steaming mug in one hand and a smoking AK-47 in the other.  That would certainly show those Jews that two can play at this convert game.
I think the Saffster is onto something here.  Or maybe he’s just ‘on’ something.

Time flies...

I find myself in the state of 'gobsmacked' a lot these days.  My life is racing by and nothing reminds me of that fact more than the speed of my own children's lives.
  Same kid, same lovely, glorious spirit expressing itself in two very different versions of the same body. Thank God we are all still managing to have fun, even at the speed of light. That's all that counts as far as I'm concerned.  Rock on, or fish on, folks. Whatever turns your crank.

Weird Morning

 

I'm sitting at the kitchen table. It's breakfast and the boys haven't made it downstairs just yet.  They are upstairs, shaving, powdering, deodorizing, gelling.  Loud, strident chords of metal are pounding down through the ceiling.  I don't mind.  It's part of their ritual and it gets them up and at their day. I do have to laugh however, as I am sitting here with an audition script in front of me. It's a new cartoon for pre-schoolers. I'm trying to come up with the voice for a 4 year old Elephant named Golias.  The teenagers one floor above are reveling in the grinding, thrashing energy of metal rock while Dad does cute voices over his coffee and granola. The music must be having an effect on me as very shortly, I find I am sneaking profanity into the pre-schooler script.  Suddenly the cartoon is much more entertaining.  I'm laughing out loud and I think I've finally found the voice. I wonder if there's a market for that kind of thing? Profane Pre-school.  Hmmmm?  Not sure the folks behind the glass at the audition will appreciate it quite as much as I do.

Slim pickings...

I was sitting in my mechanic's waiting room this morning while my car was having a brake job done and, like I always do, after a while I started to jones for some print.  The pickings were pretty slim; the Toronto Sun and a couple of skanky looking 'celeb' gossip mags. But, when you're bored you read what's at hand.  I can only gather therefore, that if the large circulations of both the Sun and these cheesey magazines is any indication, there are a lot of very bored people out there.  I mean, we can't all be getting our brakes done.  Wow, is the Toronto Sun a black hole of a newspaper. I think if the Sun were a building it would be a brothel.  One of those old-fashioned ones with red plush velour everywhere and  a permanent odor of bad liquor. Nothing but car ads, stereo ads, boobs and bad news.  It's a little terrifying to think that a lot of people are starting their days by sticking their heads in those pages and taking a good long sniff.  That can't be good for you.
The 'Celeb' mags weren't much better.  Just really weird. And a shocking reminder that I am, apparently, no longer anywhere close to being 'hip'.  Who's kidding who?  Like I ever was. Still, I didn't know who three-quarters of those 'celebrities' were.  Never heard of them.  Luckily that's okay. They're not roofing my house or delivering my firewood or fixing my brakes.  Those people I know.

A huge Thanks...

A gigantic thank you to all of you who joined us last Friday night at our Westminster Church Fundraiser Improv Comedy night.  Both shows were packed and we had an absolute hoot.  More importantly, the church raised a whack of dough to keep a number of very important outreach, children's and food bank programs going.  Stuff that is more important now, in this economic weirdness we're in the middle of , than ever.  Thanks to everyone for letting us be a part of that.
For those of you who couldn't make it, and for those who were there, I thought you might get a kick out of these photos...courtesy of my good pal and fantastic photographer Rob Johnson  Enjoy.

How do you spell Mississippi?

So, apparently there's quite a stink being raised regarding the security breach in Jamaica that allowed a 'mentally challenged' man to take a plane-load of passengers hostage at gunpoint.  Why waste time and money with a big investigation?  Ask me.  Ask anybody who has passed through airport security in the last nine years and they'll tell you exactly how such a 'breach' could've occurred.  Have you seen the people who work at airport security? Do they strike you, particularly, as 'go-getters'? Or even just 'getters'?  Would you trust most of these people to keep anything more than their own lunch secure? I'm always tempted, as I go through the humiliating silliness, to say something like 'Sure, I'll take my shoes and belt off if you can spell Mississippi.'  Airport security, for all of the song and dance they put us through, is generally a joke. Although I suppose it does work to a degree.  We can all take great comfort from the fact that this hijacker wasn't armed with any shampoo, gel or toothpaste in a container over 500 grams.  I'm sure they took that off of him.

I'm in love...

If you'd like a little slice of wonderful, check out this YouTube clip of Susan Boyle singing her gorgeous heart out on Britains Got Talent.  Her voice, of course, is stunning, but what is most moving, I think, is the pure joy this woman exudes in doing what she loves. Singing. It gave me goosebumps.
I am in love with Susan Boyle for a whole host of reasons.  For years I've wondered, cynically, why all the stars of the music industry, especially the women, have to be physically beautiful. Surely to God, I asked anyone who would listen, there have to be ugly people with talent? It's always bugged me that we, as a culture, place so much value on the external. It hamstrings us terribly.  Susan Boyle is not, outwardly, what you would call pretty. She is 47 years old, has eyebrows like a Soviet dictator and confesses to never having been kissed.  Watch this video though and then tell me if you would not, without hestation, gather her in your arms and smooch her big time.  I would. 

It's Reptilian.

How far south has your humanity gone when a disaster like the L'Aquila earthquake looks like a sweet business opportunity?  Organized Crime has quickly moved into the region, apparently, and is making plans to reap a nice little windfall from the reconstruction contracts.  Sometimes I think I'm actually a different species than some of these people. It's reptilian.  Of course, maybe, in the midst of this madness some form of poetic justice will arise.  Like maybe a killer aftershock.  There's an image right out of the Old Testament...the earth opening up and swallowing shiny black Cadillacs full of wise-guys.  Nice.

Death of a good CHUM.

I didn't even notice.  Maybe you missed it as well.  On March 26, 1050 CHUM passed away.  If you're anywhere close to my age, CHUM was a huge part of your youth and adolescence.  That was probably where you heard your favourite tunes and more than likely what you had the radio tuned to around the pool, at your campsite, in the car.  In a pre-internet, pre-ipod, prehistoric age the radio was a much bigger deal than it is now.  It was the only place we got our music.  A lot of us were glued to the CHUM Chart to see what was hot and what was not. And who could forget the contests?  How many of us drove our parents nuts for a few summers when we rushed to the ringing phone ahead of them so we could answer "I listen to CHUM" in the hopes of winning some concert tickets.
I have to admit although I've not listened to CHUM in a long while (I seldom listen to much radio anymore) and it's demise was probably overdue in an age of 'talk' radio...I felt saddened by the news of CHUM's passing.  A natural evolution perhaps, but still an icon of a simpler time. Thanks for the good times CHUM.