Bless Me Father...

What does Snoop Dogg and the Pope have in common?

No it's not the fondness of wearing big bling or a cool lid. Weirdly enough, both his holyness and the hip hop rap rock star are represented by Geffen Records. Word is, the November release of Pope Benedict XVI's album entitled, "Alma Mater," will contain songs and prayers to the Virgin Mary. My first question is who did the market research for this one? Will itunes carry the cd, and when will the video be released.

I wish I could throw my hat in the ring for directing the creative for video produced. I envision a pussycat dolls meets his holiness dance video with lots of cleavage sporting large crucifix necklaces and super short parochial school tartan print skirts. Embellish with high heels (for the dolls, not his holyness.) Sex sells, even the Vatican must see that. Why else choose an American icon of entertainment as representation?

Radio stations typically receive swag or merchandise to giveaway when promoting new albums/cd's. This is a marketing persons' wet dream: worldwide exposure meets endless open ended promotional opportunities- pope in the pizza, holy water bubble wands. Then there's the tee shirts... Why do I need to write about this you ask? The sheer strangeness of Snoop dogg and the pope receiving record royalties from the same corporation, it's just too bad this isn't an April fools joke.

Dee-licious

The old saying of you don't know what you have till it's gone? Well I am here to say that the truth rings true in this cliche. My beloved Mini Cooper was sold a few months ago before exiting stage left from California. The California car culture is so tied to peoples' persona's that it's a cliche in and of itself. Of course a few of my favourite people on the planet don't even own vehicles, so I suppose cars and the charisma of automotive muscle is lost on some folks. Not me.

Enter stage right, Zipcar. The stateside phenomenon sweeping the urban set as an option to the unwanted burden of car ownership. Think time share. Think no-tell-motel by the hour set...yeah baby. This is the perfect mix of ease, accessibility and gas fumes all coalesced into a bit sized sampler box: Drive a Mini,(my ride of choice today) an Audi, a Honda... whatever wherever your little heart desires. Did I mention how easy? A credit card from the Zipcard folks unlocks the car. You simply walk up, swipe the card against the windshield. The car unlocks and the key is on a zipline next to the ignition. Adjust your mirrors, apply lipstick and most importantly turn the radio up really loud and off U go! (ipod aux- in available for those too groovy for radio.)

No fuss, no worry about door dings or even where to park.. Grow weary of the car? Drive something else next time around. It's like being single again. Variety IS the spice of life, and Zipcar is a lot like a fling: fun, fast, and on the fly....How can you not be smitten with the frivolity of that?

Did I mention that a gas credit card is included? Yes, cocktails are on the house (it is sort of like that..)

All in all it was great fun. I'm hooked. It's the best of all worlds. Next time you feel up for an afternoon of city driving angst or a quick hop to the beach look no further than Zipcar.

Now if they only offered a surf rack for my windsurf gear-

Drip Drop

Enough of this rain already.

The romantic notion of misty evening city walks washed down the rain gutter after the third downpour today. What's up? Where is the hot weather, since this is after all almost August... The meteorologist had this to say this morning "We have found summer and it's vacationing in the North." Yeah, and did it happen to mention that it might swing our way east?

I love the calm cool demeanor of the Canadian Culture. What I am not liking, at least at the moment is the lack of summer. Northern California has not really enjoyed a good soaking in a few years. I for one really missed this, as the smell and taste of the air is altered. The ozone and smog washed away and clear sky's beam as far as the eye. I suppose the grass really is greener right now this moment in time. Mean while I have windsurf gear collecting dust as I await the sultry summer season, wanting to be drinking Vino Verde on a beach blanket here along the water front.

Wishful thinking reins as we wait out the rain in Toronto. Maybe Cuba is balmy... I can get there from here. Hmmmm....

And For What........

A sigh of communal relief was breathed last night with the news that the strike here in Toronto may be ending this week. Friday will be the day of reckoning when the city council votes.

Well that was so civil. So Canadian. Civility IS the strong suit here, but don't mistake my poke as that is indeed worth a lot.
What makes me wanna pick a fight? Suppose it's the lack of a fight. The seeds of political discontent here in Canada seem planted almost hydroponically- no deep roots. Nothing to really dig your heels into here. The lack of political activism is weirdly missing in such an urbane environ. Did I mention how smiley Torontonians are?

Maybe you can't have it all, but how do things get accomplished if everyone sort of grits their teeth while sporting a smile and agrees affably? The last 33 days of stinky garbage piled to the sky with playgrounds closed (because playgrounds here have become the make-shift dumps.)
Good luck trying to read up on editorials- No really angry opp ed pieces in the paper. No sign of in-your-face opinions from either side. None. Snoore...............

Then just like that....snap snap.... big wordy battles ? Guess not. Never to materialize. No real newspaper coverage unless you count the small one column piece buried on page 4 yesterday, page 2 on Sunday. Apparently all concessions seemingly met (at least that's the early word on the street.)

Soo the question looms: why bother with 32 extra days of discontent? Wouldn't it have been easier to just let the union arm twist and the Mayor and his minions bend over. Posturing?
Not even. Political instincts non existent in Toronto, this is one mayor that will be a casualty of natural selection.

Nice.

The losers? The city of course. Taxpayers will pony up in the end to honor the sick days banked by municipal employees. Never mind that the numbers don't add up. The Mayor will be long gone but his lasting legacy will be the red slimy trail he leaves behind upon the city' spreadsheets, garden slug that he is.

Uggh. What a waste.

I know what your thinking? Why do you care so much, Ms.California transplant? My serious case of American ethnocentric political angst shining through like the sun.

Yep. Stir the pot. Maybe I can teach my Canadian neighbors a thing or two about activism, American style. I will, in turn practice good manners and tone down the rudeness.

Pinky promise.

J'Adore Contador

Who doesn't love the underdog? The final push of the Tour de France is spinning it's way through the streets of Paris. Ahh, the best bread and by far the best people watching. Cycling at the helm, that cutie pie Alberto Contador. What's not to love- a Spanish (Madrid) mad-dog on wheels. When word was out that the other stud muffin of yellow jersey fame would be sharing the spoke-light of team fame, why was the drama not dished as high as a paella pan full of arroz?
Lance Armstrong announced that he was returning to professional cycling with the express goal of participating in the 2009 Tour de France. Team Astana manager Johan Bruyneel, Armstrong's former mentor and sporting director, said that he could not allow Armstrong riding for another team and later signed him. The announcement by Armstrong clashed with the ambitions of Contador, who insisted he deserved the leadership of Astana, and hinted at the possibility of leaving the team if he was given a secondary role supporting Armstrong.Contador was later given assurances by Bruyneel that he would remain team leader and decided to remain at Astana for the 2009 season. Was this a mistake? Contador later claimed the situation on the team could be sorted out on the road. The yellow jersey never looked better than upon Contador.

I like that kind of drama-rama, especially from boys! Add expensive bicycles, media coverage non stop against the backdrop of the Pyrenees it's hard not to be the moth to the flame.

Can't get enough? Me neither... Toast a glass of Cava s'il vous plaît to the yellow Jersey-wearing drama clad madrileño who makes all of us proud rooting for the underdog.

Day 26

Walter Reuther must be turning over in his grave.
Why you ask?

The striking union workers here in Toronto resemble picnic-ers vs picket-liners. What's wrong with that? A lot. First off, the union has a very staunch stance on workers rights. My very first indoctrination with political strife came from the unionized autoworkers in Detroit. Such strong impressions from that angry vocal crowd of unionized workers left an indelible mark upon my elementary school psyche.

Flash forward today: the garbage strewn park in my Toronto neighborhood (day number 26 of the garbage strike.) It's not awful by any stretch but it's evident that something is amiss. My bigger concern or question comes from the lack of anger, angst, in your-face-signs that spell out a list of what the city workers seek. Instead you find a picnic table of people gathered 'round maybe reading, having some coffee. You might think that it's a family gathering or just a few friends out enjoying the day but no, it's a picket line. Or a picket picnic table. I would have taken a picture but I was on rollerblades and at an age where I can't walk and chew gum let alone rollerblade...

So what are they asking for, these non-picketing picketers? Well in this day in age we go to the source: no, not the president of the union or the spokesperson for the union...or even the bottle-blond dork of a mayor. Go to the website. Sure enough, there it is... The mayor and the unions are equally responsible, as the little bit of budge from either side is negligible. What is impressive? The city has strike information available via pdf in fifteen languages.

Question is will we drown in a sea of garbage bags since the end of this strike looks unattainable.

Love The Look

North Carolina welcomes it's newest neighbor: Bernie Madoff. Leaving behind the Frette sheets, Irish linen pj's and cashmere socks Mr. Madoff now sports the polyester-blend prison jumpsuit. He's in good company in Butner NC as the following high profile inmates share the pilates studio at this posh medium security federal penitentiary; Adelphia Communications own John Rigas and son Tim, who were convicted on multiple charges,including securities fraud and concealing $2.3 billion in liabilities from corporate investors. Jonathan Pollard, an American who spied for Israel and Omar Abdel-Rahman, the "blind sheik," who is serving a life sentence for trying to kill Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak and blow up the United Nations. This is like the all-star squad. Do you think they may form a secret investment-ponzi club? I imagine a marketing idea from the bad boys of Butner to be "Invest all of your snack stash with us and receive an unbelievable 12% return on your ritz crackers." At the very least a prison book club or writers salon to kibitz about memoirs/tell-all books. Evening cups of tea drank together discussing strategies to off-shore amazon booksales proceeds. It just seems like old habits die hard.

What's odd is that many a cottage industry has sprung up around these white collar criminals: prison coaches are the new personal trainer. With all of the security fraud and big fish like Bernie, it's easy to see how a little advice on what it's like inside the big house would garner press and business opportunities for all parties on either side of the bars.

I just wonder if they have to share yoga mats. It just seems wrong for them to have such a posh and privileged penitentiary pad as well as federally subsidized organic bamboo yoga togs.