Ah, dang it. Like death and taxes, unwanted summer electoral politics are inescapable. Rumour has it that our PM Justin Trudeau is determined to call a snap election, reportedly to be held on September 20th. Why? Because he believes that doing so at this time will ensure his party can win a majority government, allowing him to avoid what he has been calling “opposition obstruction.”
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I know exactly how long I’ve been in lockdown, but what I don’t know is how long I’m gonna have to remain cooped up.
Calendar time between my birthday on December 4th, and Christmas Day, on December 25th, is just three weeks .. 21 days .. The calendar doesn’t lie – it’s 21 days, but somehow, it always flies by like it’s a lost long weekend, and into that time, we have to pack in all the xmas frippery and chaos we can handle.
Those three weeks fly by. The holidays just aren’t the same since my mum and gram died in 1992. Gram, who had hoped, but didn’t quite get the chance to celebrate her hundredth birthday, always had the gravitas and the gravy, roast beef, and Yorkshire pudding to guarantee that our scattered family would be gathering around her for the holidays.
With this week’s release of their 7th video adventure, more is becoming known about that mythical group, the heymacs. Those in the know have sensed from the beginning that there’s more to this shambling group of itinerant musicians than meets the eye.
Remember the heyday of The Old Spaghetti Factory? Massive as the place was, there were always lineups, and you’d eagerly await that call of your name … “Smith, party of 4!” “John, party of 3!”
Unlike the many industries that burp and seize up in anticipation of Christmas – and ultimately stop dead in its tracks – Rock ‘n Roll never takes a break. It doesn’t go on holiday. It lives on an endless perpetual calendar of sex, stimulants and adrenalin. It bounds and plods and steamrolls and even hemorrhages creativity despite the sleepy respite that is observed by the denizens of the normal world.
Considering I’ve had two weeks to mull over my first column of 2015, you’d really think I might have accumulated a mass of goodies to share with the readers of the little blog that could. (Speaking of which … congratulations Bob Segarini for dragging the DBAWIS motley crew along to the 1000 posts milestone!)
Faith and begorrah! St Paddy’s Day is today, and I’m all out of green beer!
Just kidding – green beer is a blight, a slap in the face to any true Irishman worth his or her salt. But there will still be many pubs offering it up on the 17th. And many wannabe Irish puking it up the next day.
I do love to celebrate the day. My mother’s father was from Ireland, and all of his eight children were lovers and dreamers, happily singing traditional and ‘patriot’ songs, and generally brushing over the fact that their mother was one of the conqueror Brits. In Montreal, a city where so many Irish had settled, St. Patrick’s was celebrated loudly, and with much abandon.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 