Sunday morning in Old North London is an exquisitely peaceful place.
Those noisy do nothings called road workers are off elsewhere, sleeping off their bloated wages paid to them for sleeping and noise making the rest of the week.
The students, the hope of tomorrow, have finally gone to bed after their late nights of bunka-bunka music.
So, with the dawn, there is the peace of the Forest City. You can rise up from your bed, smile at your mistress as she slumbers, and walk out to your front porch for a morning smoke, a coffee, or a decent cup of tea.
I have a residence in Old North London, and it is my place of refuge. It is a sanctuary, a short walk from parks, a short walk to shopping; and surrounded by mind your own business neighbors.
Walking in the woods, and which woods I will not tell you, I came across these forest mushrooms. If you recognize them, you know not to eat them. I did not pick them, as I do not pick things in the forest. I thought of telling my early rising neighbors, but, I realized, if they did not care about the other perils, in general, that live in the forests of the Forest City, then they would not care about these in particular. It is such a peaceful morning in quiet Old North London. Who am I to worry about the worries of others?
Aside from the deadly mushrooms growing in the woods, more deadly than any handgun, within easy reach of the thousands of children, women, people of color, and the other diverse assembly of Hyphenated-Canadians for whom Non-Hyphenated-Canadians pay taxes to soothe their white guilt over crimes fictionalized in socialist media, there are the deadly perils that grow unnoticed, walking the streets of Old North London itself. Having had the misfortune of living in such diverse places as Toronto, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, I have had my fill of gangbangers, disease resistant plagues, and texting drivers, and I know a crop of forest mushrooms when I see one; and I know that the other perils have now come to my sanctuary, my quiet hide in Old North London.
Those noisy do nothings called road workers, they are eating capital. Yes, they are somebodies relative, and the contractor is an old boy; but this sort of do not work for high pay and pension is the stuff of the evils of foreign places, corrupt places. It is better to experience the evils of the day as a voyeur, not a victim. London is a corrupt place, filled with place holders and dullards. Noisy ones, too.
The students, the hope of tomorrow, well the ones upstairs are quiet on weekends because they do their weekends in remand. During the week, they attend the university. On friday, the paddy wagon comes by when they show up late for their weekend away from society. I have been around when this happens; I have been around when the neighbors (the lawyer, the doctor, the rich retired farm lady) were around. Peaceful Old North London, nobody seems to care. Never ask yourself why the college boy at the noisy student house (whose ground floor inhabitant is a quiet fellow who wears a dragon ring) is packing off to jail every weekend; and, of course, the next logical question: what sort of creature of academia is he going to become, this felon in mortar board and gown. And, there are two of them upstairs who go to the pokey.
With the dawn, there is peace. The felons are sleeping in jail, the tax spenders are sleeping off their drunk in Ingersol. My mistress is asleep, and I am on my porch, watching the first dog walkers walk by. I know enough to not eat the pretty white forest mushrooms, nor to make eye contact with the felons on their way to their Bachelor of Arts degrees, nor to feel outrage at the municipal worker who digs holes, fills them, digs them all again. The mushroom will kill you; the felon will steal from you; and the dullard worker will stare and drool; I just never expected these things to find their way to London. But I have enough sense to avoid these perils in the Forest City, and I wonder at the reaction of the simple folk of London, when they realize that their sleepy hobbit existence has invited in the orcs of beyond the shire. Ah well. I will spin my dragon ring and wait to see their reaction. In a society that does not have free speech, there is not much more I can say, especially about the other perils that I see, and cannot talk about.
Wednesday, 13 July, 2011
Peaceful Sunday London
Monday, 19 July, 2010
Exterminate the Brutes
A city councillor distressed by more complaints about gang activity is trying again to get a controversial downtown intersection shut down for good.
Ward 4 Coun. Stephen Orser has applied for formal delegation status at Monday’s environment and transportation committee (ETC) meeting to plead his case that a troubled intersection at Dundas and Richmond either be closed or gated.
Orser said he was prompted to act by yet another complaint from a fearful business owner of the neighbourhood, at Dundas and Richmond steets.
“He was terrified. A group of young thugs were kicking at his door and standing around the entrance,” Orser said. “He didn’t want to call police because he was fearful of repercussions.”
Orser said he called police, who arrived quickly.
He tried last year to have the intersection shut down after drug dealers were observed peddling their goods openly in the city core.
Only cosmetic changes, such as removing graffiti, have been completed, Orser charged.
“It’s like spraying perfume on a pig. It is still a pig,” he said.
Orser called on the city to spend the rest to put in higher fences and safer lighting and consider putting locked gates that businesses can shut at night and re-open in daytime.
Or better yet, Orser said, just shut the downtown down.
City staff plan to install new metal trees next, with the help of a consultant’s design. Transportation design engineer Karl Grabowski says in a letter to Orser, that’s part of the ETC agenda.
Police think the erection of more metal trees downtown and new lighting will deter people from loitering, Grabowski says.
Friday, 2 July, 2010
If you don't like the busker's song, smash his guitar - it's only property, right? It's not like you're hurting people
On Wednesday, I got mad.
As always, I was dressed in black (the NIN t-shirt I got from the show is my fav!) and, as I often do, I made my way to the LCBO. When I got there, there was some scumbag singing "This is not a Love Song" on acoustic guitar out front (don't they have security to put the run on feces like this?). And I thought, "WTF, don't you watch the news? The people of Canada have been rioting in the street against "enterprise" and this pathetic, brainwashed, enterprising piece of shit is condoning "selling out" right in front of the People's liquor store - and asking fucking money for it!"
I promptly grabbed the hammer I stole from the local hardware store for the recent party in T.O. (pay for shit, fuck that!) and attacked this worthless capitalist scum's guitar for all it was worth. I hate that song! I don't want to hear it! FUCK YOU BUSKER!
Well, you should've seen that shit head grovel! It was priceless! And I was in and out of the LCBO to grab my goods before he could send a smoke signal to the cops (glad hippies don't support Rogers cell service - ha, ha!).
I tell you, next time some busker piece of shit subjects you to something you don't like, smash his guitar! Or if you don't like what the band is playing at your local watering hole (if you're so backward that you pay to see live music in capitalist premises), throw a beer bottle or two through the drum kit! Hey, it's not like you're hurting people or anything, right? It's only property and you don't like what he's saying. Hey, if you don't like what he sleeps with, you should burn his bed! If you don't like what he cooks, burn the whole fucking kitchen! It's only property, right? As long as you aren't harming people . . .
Vive la revolution!
Thursday, 1 July, 2010
Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?
Seems everywhere Al Gore goes, things get hot. 
She called Gore, "a pervert" and a "sexual predator." Hagerty said he's "not what people think -- he is a sick man … "All this time I thought it was methane of his thoughts that made everyone so uncomfortable . . .The song was “Dear Mr. President” by Pink.… As soon as he had it playing, he turned to me and he immediately flipped me flat on my back and threw his whole body face down over atop me, pinning me down and outweighing me by quite a bit. Get off me, you big lummox! I loudly yelled protested to him… We lay on our sides a couple feet apart, looking at each other as he played the song, him singing along with it as if he were revealing deep feelings like some bizarre karaoke and me stuck there.... He prevailed upon me to listen to just this one other song about women’s feelings and their inner self and trust that he said his wife introduced him to, which is about a woman choosing to let a man into her deeper self or some such things.
. . . but maybe he's been frustrated all these years because Tipper refused to scream out "Fuck me!"
Thursday, 24 June, 2010
Eavesdrop on the harmonious background sound of the Universe
"When you are hearing what the sonifications do you really are hearing the data. It's true to the data, and it's telling you something about the data that you couldn't know in any other way," said Archer Endrich, a software engineer working on the project.
"We can hear clear structures in the sound, almost as if they had been composed. They seem to tell a little story all to themselves. They're so dynamic and shifting all the time, it does sound like a lot of the music that you hear in contemporary composition," [Richard Dobson] explained.
Although the project's aim is to provide particle physicists with a new analysis tool, Archer Endrich believes that it may also enable us to eavesdrop on the harmonious background sound of the Universe.
Friday, 28 May, 2010
Wisdom from the Government that spends 1 billion + for their summits
People who find themselves covered in feces should call 911 immediately.
Thursday, 27 May, 2010
In case of sonic attack at the G20 protest follow these rules . . .
The addition of sound cannons to the arsenal available to security forces managing G20 protests comes as no surprise to groups planning to demonstrate in Toronto at next month’s summit.This is Hawkwind, do not panic!
“It will allow us to communicate, most effectively, our demands to the crowd" [said Const. Wendy Drummond, spokeswoman for Toronto police.]
The devices — some call them weapons — use an array of tweeters familiar to any hi-fi enthusiast that work in tandem to produce the high volume levels.
“Saying a sound cannon is a tool for communications is like saying waterboarding isn’t torture, just a tool for encouraging dialogue,” said [Council of Canadians] spokesman Mark Calzavara.
Bring on the Delatron!
Thursday, 20 May, 2010
Have a safe 24 weekend
On a Canadian holiday traditionally celebrated with a "24" of one's favourite brew, The London Fog would like to remind our readers to play safe and not throw caution to the wind in the heat of the drunken moment with that smokey smelling girl who's the last one to pass out at the camp fire. Keep in mind that after a couple days of steady drinking . . . 
There's an election on the horizon, and you don't want to be distracted by troublesome genitals when you could be defeating the Axis of Evil running your city.
Thursday, 13 May, 2010
Let us hope the Canadiens do not win the playoffs
Riots and looting in Montreal have occurred over a hockey team. Soccer mentality has come to Canada once again. It's just a game people, but I suppose an excuse to steal and vandalize is always going to be appealing to some primates, especially when the herd gets worked up.
Protesting the Extradition of Marc Emery
Marijuana activists occupy the office of Conservative heritage minister James Moore and roll joints. See the video here:
Wednesday, 12 May, 2010
Mock Them All
Lorne Gunter writing about the recent South Park controversy:
There are several disconcerting aspects to the incident in which the animated series South Park allegedly insulted Muslims by blaspheming Muhammad.
The death threats made to the creators of the show for their "outright insult" to the prophet came from a radical Muslim group inside the United States, not one in some far-off land. The network the show airs on, Comedy Central, and the company that owns the network, Viacom, instantly bowed to the threats and censored out depictions of and references to Muhammad from a subsequent episode. Authorities seemed not to treat the threats as a criminal matter. And the satirical references to Jesus that followed slipped by without incident.
[...]
If it had been Christian zealots who had promised death for insulting depictions of Christ, the media, bureaucracy and politicians would have known instantly and instinctively to criticise and contain them.
But political correctness overrides such instincts when it comes to Muslims. The first response of many Western authorities when Muslims take offence is to mollify, to urge the altering or cessation of whatever Western behaviour it is that has given offence.
[...]
This approach will be as successful as giving the schoolyard thug your lunch money. Tomorrow he'll be back for your lunch money and bus fare, too.
May the Best man win!
I, for one, am outraged at the the length of time Her Worship's husband has had to wait to clear his name of the ridiculous accusations he faces. And to make him wait until January to clear his name is clearly an indication that someone, somewhere, wants this innocent man to suffer indefinitely. Nor is it a coincidence that this incident has been drawn out to coincide with the upcoming election. The black cloud hanging over the incumbent mayor is clearly a cheap trick by nefarious forces to defame our glorious leader.
I'm sure the key witness, who has run to the other side of the world, must certainly have requested he face the Taliban rather than further slander this innocent man's name. To think that the police would have the audacity to assume that just because our man was (supposedly - accusation unproven in court) caught jogging through some backyards in Dorchester shortly after an SUV (supposedly - accusation unproven in court) belonging to him was crashing into cars several miles away reeks of a personal vendetta on behalf of the police (or someone). This is so obviously a setup instigated by enemies of Her Worship and her spouse. But fear not Londoner, justice shall prevail and Tim Best shall go free!!!