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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At a party last summer, I met someone who looked very like Patrick Steward, aka, Captain Picard of Star Trek fame.
With two of Trump’s main cohorts, Paul Manafort and Michael Cohen, now actual convicted felons, it certainly looks like we’re nearing the end of a long and rocky road in American politics. Trump’s misdeeds are beginning to emerge thru the swampy miasma, and while he may continue to scream, “no collusion!” it’s becoming very clear that the ‘best people’ with whom he has surrounded himself, are not being ‘best’ at all. They are felons, and he himself is now the ‘unindicted felon‘ in the room.
Late one night in very late 1976, a singer acquaintance of mine burst into the (condemned) house I was then sharing with the neighbourhood bar band, shouting “You will never believe what I just saw in Toronto tonight! These four guys with Brian Jones haircuts wearing drainpipe Levis, singing all these really fast, short songs. Lots of ’em, too! And the best part? NO GUITAR SOLOS!”
Let’s continue our journey of missing musical venues. We were (and still are) very fortunate in and around Toronto at the amount of great clubs at our disposal. Some of the best (and worst) are long gone. When all of these clubs were at their heights beer was cheap and usually sold in ten ounce glasses by the tray and there was outrage when the price of cigarettes went up to a dollar in the cigarette machines. The air was thick with smoke and the stale scent of smoke and beer soaked carpets hit you like a ton of bricks when you walked thru the door.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 