COVID-19 hit Canada hard somewhere around the second week of March, 2020. I remember it well, because the shutdowns began in earnest just days before my husband’s birthday, and right about the time that Mirvish Theatre sent me an email advising me that I’d be receiving a refund for the tickets I’d purchased for a show that week. The theatre had gone dark, as had most of the city’s offices, stores, services, and restaurants.
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ENOUGH already with this daylight saving nonsense. The cost to the country, and it’s citizens, has been recorded and shown to be of little to no benefit to the nation.
In recent weeks I’ve been contacted by various music artists through various social medias (funny how the telephone is no longer one of them) to pick my brain for the millionth time on how to sell their wares/songs/nubile posteriors up the music industry food chain in the guise of a record deal or publishing deal or both.
It’s always in the form of sickly whining and the fetid scent of desperation wafts across the social media chasm with every single key stroke. “Why won’t anyone notice me?”
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 