The US department of Homeland Security is trying to circumvent plans to recycle the canvas roof from BC Place Stadium. In its quest protect the United States from every imaginable threat, the department would like to re-purpose the roof and use it as a diaphragm to defend the nation against a Godzilla type monster.
“As you may remember after 9/11 the government invited Hollywood screenwriters to pitch us nightmare scenarios that we could protect ourselves from,” said a Homeland Security spokesperson. “Several of those scenarios went on to become the basis for summer blockbusters but we seriously considered all the possibilities.”
After seeing footage of the deflated stadium on the Internet, a bureaucrat at the department had a eureka moment. “You insert that puppy into a giant lizard’s innards and they’ll never reproduce again! The military-industrial complex will have a field day with this! Think of how many jobs this will create!”
I can never remember when the game is on. I could have swore it was tonight but one cheer from the surrounding balconies told me I was wrong. Since it was the first peep I had heard from my neighbours I could tell it was a big goal.
Instead of cursing the Canucks I tried to channel every positive thought in my being at them. Not long after the Canucks killed a power play and scored a goal and I felt like I had done it.
Then LA came back and scored another goal and again, I was disheartened but not defeated. It was unbearable to watch however.
There was some work I needed to do so I muted the TV during the third period, opened the windows and didn’t look up until I could hear my neighbours from the surrounding open windows, balcony doors and restaurant patios.
I looked up from my laptop every time there was an ooh an ahh or an oh-oh-oh. I didn’t miss a goal.
I didn’t realize what a uniting force professional sports are until I lived in San Francisco and became a Giants fan. My proximity to my neighbours has only enhanced the experience. Even when I’m watching the game alone in my apartment, it still feels like I’m in a bar or a living room surrounded by people.
It never ceases to amaze me how governments—any government—is willing to break a contract with its people but not a corporation.
What really ticks me off about all this cost cutting is that we’re already running a bloody deficit, why not run deficits, take care of our people and dig ourselves out as we go along instead of digging ourselves in a hole we’ll never get out of.
Sure, there will be some minimum wage jobs thrown in for good measure—you can sure as hell bet the place won’t be unionized—but are those the jobs we want to be bringing to our city? Shouldn’t we be nurturing and inviting a population of smart people? Let’s face it, when we run out of water, food and energy, a blackjack dealer isn’t going to cut it.
Cuts, cuts, cuts…we always hear about cuts to people with disabilities, schools and the arts. Meanwhile we’re paying rich MLAs $300,000 a year to tell us we have to learn to do with less between political fundraisers and photo opportunities. I thought these people were civil servants.
The bottom line is the City and the Province owes us. It’s not our fault they didn’t budget accordingly. It’s our money they gambled with. If the population of Vancouver were China the Premier and the Mayor wouldn’t be over there pulling their pockets out of their pants like Charlie Chaplin saying, “Sorry, we just can’t pay.” No, they run a deficit until they can pay them back.
If Vancouverites and British Columbians at large treated the government like a cashier at Walmart, things would run much smoother around here.
Harvey Milk said that if you can clean up the dog shit you can become mayor of San Francisco. He went on to pass one of the first poop and scoop bylaws in North America, something that has become a bylaw in every major metropolitan area since.
Smokers always complain their civil rights are being infringed on whenever they lose one more place to smoke. This would be a compelling argument if they weren’t protesting their right harm themselves, pollute the air and feed the coffers of big tobacco companies. Smokers are like the tar sands in that respect.
The first time I quit smoking for more than five years was when San Francisco proposed banning smoking in bars. I was tending bar in the Castro and had a cigarette burning in an ashtray next to my register like a celebrity guest on Matchgame.
Any smoker will tell you that once you’re relegated to the outdoors, you become a target for people bumming smokes. That was what finally drove me to quit. I knew if I had to leave my bar to have a cigarette, not only would I be losing money, but I would be getting into arguments with people I didn’t want to give a cigarette to.
Ironically I started smoking again in Toronto where you were still allowed to smoke. I lit up for the shear novelty of it and wasn’t able to stop for another five years.
People have different reasons for smoking. Most people enjoy how it feels in your lungs, but there are some people that genuinely rely on smoking as a coping mechanism. I don’t think it’s appropriate for someone to lose their job because they smoke, but I don’t see anything wrong with limiting where they can do it.
What does worry me about this bylaw is if this is the city’s passive-aggressive way of cutting back on dope smoking on the beach. If the reason for the ban is pollution not lifestyle choices as they claim, why don’t they start a campaign: “Take your trash with you”?
I’m not going to endorse marijuana one way or another but like it or not, marijuana is part of Vancouver culture—it’s the only thing keeping us on the map in some parts of the world.
Do we really want to see more law enforcement on Wreck Beach than there already is? Last year the cops made my friends and I show them our water bottles to prove it wasn’t vodka. I mean, if you can’t get naked and let it all hang out on Wreck Beach, where can you?
My advice to smokers is this: if you want to smoke in public spaces clean up after yourselves. As for banning smoking in parks, I say we do it but leave pot alone.
Even if the ban does pass, they won’t enforce it. Look at any number of dogs on the beach. But I’ll take a dog over a cigarette butt any sunny day of the week.
I blame my lower back pain entirely on missing yoga for thee weeks. I haven’t had this much trouble getting up, bending over and sitting down since I was a barista. I’m grunting so much my neighbor knocked on the door to ask if I was okay.
Went to Shopper’s Drug Mart to self-medicate. Stood in the pain relief aisle not knowing which concoction was the most effective. I’m not really big on pills and painkillers (recovering Catholic you know) but since I don’t drink and tequila is not an option, it was this or suffer.
There was a sale on heat pads—booyah! —but as for medication I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go brand name or generic. It was early in the morning enough that there were no lines so I was able to find a pharmacist right away.
She pointed to the three generic brands. “This one has Robax and aspirin; Robax and Tylenol; Robax and Advil.”
Quick concise advice; how often do you get that?
I went for Tylenol. Advil gives me an uppy tummy.
While I was paying for the back medicine I also picked up a prescription my doctor had faxed in. My extended health plan covers my medication and I asked her if she needed anything else—my membership card or something.
“You need to pay for those,” she said, pointing to the heat pads and pills.
Duh.
“Sorry. I’m in a lot of pain.”
“I understand,” said the pharmacist for whom English is not her native tongue. “If you weren’t in pain I would not understand.”
