If you don’t know who Stan Rogers is, and you consider yourself any kind of fan of folk music (or fancy yourself a real Canadian) do a little research on the man. In Nova Scotia we grew up with a certain reverence for Stan, but as I moved west to Toronto (yup, like Finch) I found that he was less well-known in his home province than in the Atlantic provinces.

I was eight when Stan died, and don’t remember it, but I know it affected my father deeply. It’s one thing when a cherished musician dies; it’s another when he dies tragically & too young. Now, when I hear his music or read about him, I find myself missing him.

Find out for yourself.

The Kings of Leon and The Secret Machines are coming to Toronto, but I refuse to pay for a concert in that shitbox Kool Haus.

This is the best What Do You Think? that The Onion has done in ages.

“If we outlawed everything some people find offensive, there wouldn’t even be a Texas in the first place.”

Rotten Tomatoes has Revenge Of The Sith at 27/29. If my hopes weren’t up before, they are now.

I finally seem to be on the other side of this cold. Still a little stuffed up, still the occasional cough, still the minor headaches and lack of energy, but at least I don’t feel like half-cooked ass anymore. Within a few days I should be capable of some exercise…just in time to drink myself silly at Santé.

The Nomad keeps finding songs that I just didn’t know I had. The latest example: “Vertigo” by Monster Magnet. I bought Dopes To Infinity years ago, listened to it maybe once and haven’t taken it out since. But this morning, lo and behold, this cool-ass song jolts me out of my walking-to-work stupor and girds me for…3 hours of vendor meetings.

I’m not from Alabama and I’m not RETARDED.

10th of May. 8th smog alert of the year. I wonder if all the people driving alone to Toronto from Barrie or Stoney Creek or Ajax each morning feel guilty at all?

from CTV

1. When I first moved to Toronto, I had some of essentials — a pot, some dishes & utensils, some towels, a small TV — sent to me by courier so that I’d have it right away while the rest of my stuff made the trip across the country. Purolator lost one of the boxes and broke the TV.
2. They’re owned by McCain’s which makes the most consistently horrid commercials on TV (e.g., the Robbie Alomar atrocities of some years ago, the couple playing the ditty on their violin & glasses of lemonade or whatever, the neauseating pizza pocket sputum, etc.)
3. After a single attempt to deliver my copy of With Teeth (without even leaving a message or calling anyone else on my floor), they’re telling me I have to go down to the Lakeshore to pick it up. Fie, I say. Fie.

Over at Gaping Void, Hugh MacLeod gives us his vision of consumerism’s future, and I’m buying what he’s selling.

There’s a good chunk of the middle class that, although certainly nice people, hard working, reliable and whatnot, are not particularly bright, creative, or too fond of original thought, nor taking risks. This class I see being bled white over the next few decades, as their niches dry up like summer puddles.