A funny thing happened on the way to the riot. A hockey game broke out, and a pretty darn good one at that.

On Monday night, the Montreal Canadiens beat their long-time rivals, the Boston Bruins to win the opening round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

It was a great game that came at the end of a hard-fought seven-game series.

Too bad it’s already been forgotten because a handful of lunatics decided it was time to have themselves a post-game rampage.

You’ve all seen the images.

A motley collection of testosterone-driven young twits congregating along Ste. Catherine Street, between Bishop and Stanley, jumping on cars, swinging from lampposts and throwing whatever they could lay their grimy paws on. The more timid among them were seen holding the requisite cellphone to their ears and mugging for the passing news cameras.

“Wooooooooooohoooooooooooo,” was the common bilingual battle cry heard throughout the land.

Store windows were broken, merchandise stolen and 16 police cars were damaged beyond use, five of them torched. By Tuesday morning, the downtown streets were still strewn with debris.

We won one playoff series and this is what some of us do? By the look of the previous evening’s chaos, one can only imagine what might happen after another series win, let alone if the Habs capture the Cup.

The upshot of all this? More than a dozen people were detained — the really slow ones — who will face charges that include break-and-enter, mischief against a police vehicle, assault against a police officer and a number of municipal bylaw violations. England’s famed soccer hooligans were surely drooling and taking notes.

I will never understand what motivates people to celebrate something by destroying other people’s stuff. What is it they do, call each other up and prep for the after-game riot? “Hope the Canadiens win, dude, ‘cuz I haven’t heaved a rock through a window in years.”

“Can’t wait for the looting to begin, man, ‘cuz I want one ‘o them flat screen TVs.”

“Oh yeah, and we’re number one.”

The win, it seems, simply serves as an excuse to riot. These were not fans, just opportunistic savages sporting backwards baseball caps looking for the kind of good time that includes jumping up and down on police cars, assaulting cops and gleefully throwing bricks through panes of glass. Many are wannabe anarchists — the masked, flea-bitten, Doc Martens-wearing parasites that join any and all gatherings in order to wreak havoc.

To be sure, none of them were chanting, “Go Habs go!”

And then there’s the growing cultural Internet phenomena — the YouTube and Facebook junkies on the hunt for some new happening to record — budding cell phone cinematographers, some egging people on to set something on fire for a “way cool” upload.

There were reports that some of the mayhem was actually organized on one of those networking sites.

It makes you wonder what we would descend into if the anarchists got their way and basic laws didn’t exist.

And even when laws do exist, they have to be enforced. No fun being a Montreal cop that night. They’re damned if they do, and damned if they don’t.

Some will point the finger and say the police were too passive. They’ll ask why the force didn’t post a constable in front of every store and a cruiser on every corner.

Others, those who were prodded in the backside by officers who wanted them to “move along”, will blame the police for being too aggressive.

I’m willing to lay odds that most of the people arrested Monday night will get off with a slap on the wrist and some well-documented bragging rights.

Watching the brouhaha from the safety of my bed Monday night, I began thinking about how we Montrealers still smugly laugh at Toronto. Not only because their rancid hockey team hasn’t sniffed the cup in 40 years, but because their mayor once called in the army after a few inches of snow fell on their city.

They should be laughing at us now because we might just have to call in the army to keep us from tearing our city apart if we get a whiff of the Cup — something few of them know anything about.

Grant it, this behaviour is not unique to Montreal. The year following our much publicized 1993 Stanley Cup riot, downtown Vancouver, B.C. was turned upside down after the Canucks lost Game 7 of the 1994 Stanley Cup Finals to the New York Rangers.

But that was Vancouver. How many cups have they won?

And that was the finals.

It doesn’t make it right but this is Montreal dammit, and we got in a tizzy after the bleepin’ opening series?

So we better get used to it. The barbarians are at the gates and if I were you, I’d barricade myself at home and lock the doors the next time Nos Glorieux are on the verge of winning anything.

Sadly, it has come to this.

Comments: Anthony@thesuburban.com.

2008-04-23 10:18:26

http://thesuburban.com/content.jsp?sid=17382887738 100725931792566706&ctid=1000004&cnid=1015102

One of the burdens of working in a newsroom is sifting through the endless stream of e-mails. Some important; most not.

Lately, like many in the media, I’ve been receiving regular updates from Les Jeunes Patriotes du Québec (JPQ) — a relatively new group of dyed-in-the-pure-wool nationalists that have taken it upon themselves to protect the French language by frequently raising bloody hell.

On Jan. 17, they informed us that the next day a dozen of their members would visit the riding office of Quebec Culture Minister Christine St. Pierre to deliver 101 pork tongues. They were demanding the immediate publication of those secret government documents that apparently said the French language was in dire peril, and the resignations of St. Pierre and France Boucher, the head of the Office québécois de la langue française (OQLF).

They held a Feb. 2 demonstration in front of Premier Jean Charest’s Montreal office, and on Feb. 15, they commemorated the 170th anniversary of the hanging of 12 Patriotes at Pied du Courant.

Then last Wednesday, they sent out an e-mail titled Howard Galganov n’est pas le bienvenu au Québec (Howard Galganov is not welcome in Quebec).

Galganov, the former political rabble-rouser, radio host and one of the most vocal members of the late ‘90s “angryphone” movement, was going to be at Hotel Ruby Foo’s to speak to the English rights group, Affiliation Quebec (AQ).

The JPQ referred to Galganov as a “racist” and a “francophobe activist who has never hesitated to publicly insult the Quebec people,” and recalled the times he compared the OQLF to the Ku Klux Klan.

I have it on good authority that that comparison upsets some people.

“With the statements he has made, it is inconceivable that this individual would still be welcome on the territory of Quebec,” the e-mail read.

By now, this group of what I had already dismissed as probably a motley crew of pimple-faced, unilingual, unemployed losers finally got my back up, and I decided to call JPQ spokesperson François Gendron.

I thought it would be a short, somewhat heated conversation. His civility surprised me.

On the phone, the 24-year-old Gendron sounds like a guy who’s memorized his talking points, recounting a very selective history of Quebec’s grievances.

How else can a cause survive if it doesn’t discard the little inconvenient truths?

But I digress.

When I asked him if denouncing someone who dares to set foot on the territory of Quebec is just a tad extreme, he said; “It’s a bit radical, I admit, but if he only came to Quebec, that we can do nothing about, but the fact he has the right to speak; that he’s still welcome to speak at a conference with all that he has said in the past… It’s unacceptable,” said the already hyperventilating Gendron.

In a society that calls itself democratic, who are they to decide who can speak or not?

I brought up Victor-Lévy Beaulieu — the firebrand separatist book-burning author who can’t seem to keep his intolerant yap shut these days.

I brought up Gilles Proulx, the raving 98.5FM loudmouth who can’t go a day on air without calling anglos “rednecks, tetes carrés” and “maudits blokes.”

I brought up Gilles Rhéaume, filmmaker Pierre Falardeau and a host of other bug-eyed nationalists and asked if they, too, should be silenced.

All I got was talking points for answers.

The last JPQ mailing brought up Galganov’s past link with the Jewish Defense League — a “terrorist organization,” it said.

“Like the FLQ?” I asked. Gendron answered “Well, yes, but the FLQ’s terrorism wasn’t based on ethnicity.”

Really?

At this point I knew I was talking to a mouth breather — his excited hyperventilating notwithstanding.

We went back and forth for a while before I really had to stop and ask what he did for a living.

“Presently, I’m jobless,” said the former labourer who never got further than high school.

I asked him his opinion on teaching English to French grade school students. He was totally against it. “I think it’s ridiculous. There is the argument that kids arrive in high school and can’t even write. I don’t think it’s good to mix up the kids by having them learn a second language that early,” said the fluently unilingual Gendron. “Oh, it’s not because it’s English. I tried to learn Spanish but I have difficulty learning languages.”

Okay.

I felt compelled to ask if bilingual Quebecers like Jean Charest and Jacques Parizeau were held back because they learned a second language at an early age.

You guessed it — talking points.

I asked if I, who was speaking to him in French, was somehow handicapped.

His answer; “What I would tell kids is that if they want to learn English, watch The Simpsons.”

I took a moment to catch my breath before I told him that he can’t be serious.

“It’s still funny. I know plenty of people who learned English by watching television. I think it’s a great way for young kids to learn English,” he responded.

Brilliant.

By the end of the conversation I was starting to believe that Gendron actually sounded like a nice guy and I’m sure deep down he is.

Fact is; he sounded like a misguided moron.

Quelle surprise.

Email: anthony@thesuburban.com

I have a 13-year-old son. He’s a smart, talented kid who lives just north of Montreal with his mother and stepfather.

I see him every couple of weeks and I give his full-time parents credit for bringing up a great kid.

But I have one beef — he barely speaks any English.

That his parents can’t is their problem, but the boy is another matter.

Like a good number of Quebec’s French-language public school students, he is on track to become a product of a dysfunctional system that graduates functionally unilingual citizens.

I’ve tried over the years to encourage him to get some extra-curricular practice, like watching an English-language TV show now and then, but to no avail.

And when I’ve tried teaching him some English, we inevitably end up speaking French.

So a year ago, I gave him fair warning: “Like it or not, in 2008, we will only speak English because I’m on a mission from God to teach it to you” — or something along those lines.

I gave him all the reasons why knowing more than one language is advantageous. Not only does it open doors to jobs and opportunities here and elsewhere, it will also help him understand the lyrics on his latest mp3 download.

I told him that most of the people I know can speak at least three languages.

I told him that I was lucky to be exposed to French at a young age when my parents settled in the East End and freely chose to enroll me in a French school.

I told him that all the blather he’s hearing about “defending the French language” by limiting early exposure to English is a crock and that he should never consent to being a pawn in a chess game played by raving, insecure lunatics.

I’m glad to say that unlike many of the adults around him, he gets it.

Incessant language squabbles are the second largest contributor to this province’s GDP (galling domestic product) — second only to recurring babbling about separation.

And language wars are again in the news when all matter of more important world events are going on. Quebec is not only a distinct society; it seems to exist in a parallel universe.

But there is hope.

PQ leader Pauline Marois experienced a rare moment of lucidity recently when she had the good sense to suggest that Quebec children should be bilingual by the time they graduate from high school.

“We could take some history courses and teach them in English, or it could be geography, or it could be another class of general training, or it could be done with extra-curricular activities,” said Marois.

“Can we succeed by speaking only French? Of course! But do we improve our children’s chances by offering them [the chance] to learn a second or third language? Certainly!”

Naturally, she was vilified by the usual suspects and had to backpedal fast.

Writer Victor-Levy Beaulieu went so far as to call her a traitor. “If all Quebec becomes bilingual, what awaits us is a slow genocide,” he said.

Oy!

Justin Trudeau, while in Edmonton, got in his two cents by saying that it was “absolutely unconscionable” that some Canadians don’t encourage their children to learn a second language.

Our resident knuckle draggers, of course, ridiculed him.

“Young people have an extraordinary capacity to learn second languages, to learn third languages, at a young age, and the sooner we get them exposed to that, the greater the pathways that we’re building within their brains, the greater advantage we’re giving them,” he said.

I never thought I’d ever be quoting Justin Trudeau, but there it is.

Truth is, more anglophones and allophones are bilingual than native francophones (see 2006 census) and all I want for my son is for him to be able to compete in an increasingly globalized world. As with all our kids, the world should be their oyster.

So if the school system, and his full-time parents, won’t adequately prepare him — I will.

On Sunday, he went though full immersion with me. I spoke to him in English and he would try to respond in English. Whenever he slipped into French, I gently brought him back. We had fun doing it and that’s the way it’s going to be from now on.

That night, Pauline Marois was one of the guests on the popular Quebec Sunday night yap show Tout le monde en parle, and guess what? For a good two minutes, host Guy A. Lepage — playing on Marois’ now famous difficulty with English — asked her some questions in the language of Shakespeare.

Any time she reverted to her mother tongue, he gently brought her back. They had fun doing it and I had fun watching.

It was an odd bit of television but one that mirrored the day with my son.

Who would have thought my life would ever parallel Tout le monde en parle?

Oy!

2008-02-20 11:00:28

Well before the U.S. primary season began, the build-up to it had already become insufferable. For many, the whole dog-and-pony show was not worth much attention until yesterday ? Super Tuesday ? the day in early February or March of a presidential election year when the greatest number of states simultaneously hold their primaries.

The Iowa caucuses and the New Hampshire primaries? Please!

Yesterday, 24 states with more than half the delegates held their votes. Today, the yammering of the punditry can start to be taken more seriously. The tea leaves and tarot cards put away, now there are real numbers to work with, real momentum to comment about, and a smaller field of camera hogs to choose from.

With a proliferation of news outlets competing for our attention, there is no shortage of opinion-givers willing to give us their latest. If you thought 24-hour cable news was overkill, stay away from the blogosphere.

The day after George W. Bush was sworn in nearly four years ago for his second and final term, an armada of political prophets began to wonder aloud about who might want to succeed him.

After the mid-terms, the punditocracy began to gab about the forming of exploratory committees, the money raising, when a potential candidate might officially declare, who was out front, yada yada yada.

If you consumed every bit of this endless blather, you wasted a lot of energy because most of the time, the geeks were wrong.

John McCain started 2007 in the lead but was declared all but dead last summer due to cash-flow problems and a staff house-cleaning. But the senator from Arizona recently came back like? well? a phoenix to regain front-runner status.

Former Tennessee Senator Fred Thompson, the retired Law & Order D.A., seemed to have the right stuff for a while; strong conservative credentials, name recognition, a trophy wife and Ronald Reagan?s ability to read a script with conviction.

Thompson?s campaign quickly fizzled.

Rudy Giuliani ? from America?s mayor to America?s president? Not this time.

And we?ll only know if the U.S. is truly ready to elect a Mormon president if businessman and former Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney manages to take McCain?s ?lead? away. Not before.

Similarly, we?ll only find out if the country is ready for a black man or a white woman in the Oval Office when the battle between the two leading Democratic Party candidates comes to an end. Not when some maven says so.

By the way, wasn?t Hillary Clinton?s nomination supposed to be inevitable?

Wasn?t Barack Obama?s supposed to be only ?a dream??

Canadian wonks fare no better. Had many of their forecasts come true, Mario Dumont would be Quebec?s premier, Stephen Harper would be back in Calgary with his abacus and St?phane Dion would be back in teaching class.

Not to be outdone, the sports arena gives the political arena a run for its money when it comes to meaningless speculation.

At the beginning of this hockey season, most NHL observers had the Canadiens positioned somewhere between a rock and a hard place in the standings. Montreal?s media pack wolves were rabidly pessimistic but have since been vaccinated and neutered.

The same people who, mere months ago, wanted general manager Bob Gainey?s head on a stick now have dreams of a first place finish.

And as Sunday?s Super Bowl upset clearly illustrates, predicting a winner is always a crapshoot. Worse yet, people were speculating on the final game?s outcome before the long NFL season even started. All it takes is a team?s star player to go down with an injury ? or get arrested on illegal dog fighting charges ? and all bets are off.

Some ravenous New York Giants fans should now be eating crow because, if many of them had their way near the beginning of the season, both winning coach Tom Coughlin and quarterback Eli Manning would long be wearing cement boots at the bottom of the Hudson River.

Going into Sunday?s game, the undefeated New England Patriots were the odds-on favourites for darn good reasons. But since the game had not been played yet, the usually well lubrified lot of amateur futurists (sports fans) who gave the Giants little chance wound up being wrong.

So the next time somebody offers their conjecture, smile, take it with a grain of salt and forget about it.

By the way, I always knew the Giants would beat the Patriots by three.

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2008-02-06 10:56:20

I don?t know about you, but I?ve had just about enough of this white stuff. If I wanted to live in Ikaluit, I would have moved there.

Close to 40 centimetres of snow fell on the city during this latest storm, but I swear I shoveled four times that amount ? once on Sunday and again on Monday morning. And I won?t even bring up the gargantuan pile I heaved and pushed after the last downfall.

This time the snow fell on a Sunday, as opposed to a Monday, which made things easier for our poor, overworked, underpaid plow drivers.

As much as it pains me, I must credit the city for their snow clearing performance because at least some of us could get to work on Monday morning.

The problem was ? few of us were able to get out of our driveways.

My usual 15-minute drive to work took, well? 15 minutes.

But shoveling my car out of the driveway took over an hour, with another 20 minutes tacked on recovering from what I perceived to be a mild shoveling-induced heart attack that had me kneeling on all fours with my head over the toilet bowl, coughing up a lung, thinking I was going to die right there.

Okay, so, maybe it wasn?t a heart attack but if I ever have one, I?m darn well sure that?s what it will feel like.

Then there was the obligatory shower and a change of clothes.

Then I had a smoke.

So I?ve given up (no, not that). I?m throwing in the towel and from now on, I will hire the neighbourhood busybody to clean the driveway after every snowfall because I?m past the point of doing it myself to save a buck. I don?t know what it will cost and I really don?t care. He can ask for half my weekly pay cheque and I?ll probably cave because I?m done with it.

I?m getting too old for this.

To make matters worse, MUHC cardiologist Dr. Magdi Sami posted advice on the hospital?s website warning people with high blood pressure or pre-existing heart conditions to be careful when shoveling snow in order to avoid having a heart attack.

Swell. Another thing my hereditary-induced high blood pressure will have me worrying about.

?Even if you are capable,? says Sami, ?take frequent breaks, keep warm and stop if you feel short of breath, chest discomfort, dizziness or palpitations (a sensation of irregular heart beats).?

Like I have all day to leisurely shovel snow.

Dr. Sami continued: ?If any of these symptoms persist for more than five minutes after stopping it may be advisable to seek immediate medical attention. It is also better to shovel small quantities of snow at one time, as trying to scoop a large amount and pulling against a strong resistance can indeed put an undue stress on your heart.?

Thanks Doc. I?ll keep that in mind, because keeling over into a snow bank at my tender age with my hands clutching at my chest is not the way I thought I would go ? until now, that is.

And one more thing: Those people reported to be gleefully embracing the snowfall are only making it worse. The taunting has to stop.

?It?s winter. What are you going to do? It?s fun.? said one.

?It?s snow. It?s beautiful,? said another.

Shut up ? all of you!!

Only three kinds of people can seriously say they love these winter blasts ? skiers who pine for the hills; school-aged children who pine for the ?classes cancelled? radio announcements; and people with garages who have someone else shovelling their driveways.

Oh! And I forgot ? southern tourists just passing through in want of an ?exotic? experience. Go home and shut up.

Every winter, I ask my parents the same question: ?What the hell were you thinking, leaving the warm climes of the West Indies for this godforsaken patch of frozen tundra??

I still haven?t gotten a reasonable answer.

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We Quebecers like to remind ourselves of our reputation for being amongst the world?s worst drivers. I discount that claim because we Quebecers also have a reputation for finding any possible reason to place ourselves on the world stage ? even if it means boasting about how badly we drive. Part of that distinct society thing, I guess.

Most of us have never driven in Rome, Beijing, Mexico City, or Los Angeles. And we?d be hard pressed to find anyone who got behind the wheel in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia ? where I hear drivers have some sort of cultish death wish.

But after last week, I will gladly throw this province?s, and this city?s, hat into the ?world?s worst drivers? ring without any further evidence than my own exasperating experiences.

What is the matter with you people? Under normal circumstances, driving in Montreal is, at best, a harrowing adventure. But last week?s snowstorm was seen by many as an excuse to chuck civility and embrace utter chaos.

During the snowstorm, and for days after, all hell seemed to break loose on what was left of our roads, and normally bad drivers turned into roaming hordes of road-raging savages.

Driving became more perilous and you?d think some of us would actually alter our lousy habits for safety?s sake.

If we did, I didn?t notice.

Sure, the roads were slippery, but they will remain slippery throughout the season and will be slippery again come next winter.

And sure, the four-foot mounds of snow piled up all over the place took away driving lanes and forced people to park their cars in all manner of awkward angles, making negotiating the streets frustrating for all. But that?s no excuse. Now, I?m not one who believes in always legislating responsibility, but if I were, here are a few things I would start with.

DUA ? Driving Under an Avalanche: How much time does it take to clean the snow from the top of a car ? especially the rear window?

One car beside me whose passenger side windows had two inches of white crust on them and I?m darn well sure that driver never saw me.

DII ? Driving Into Intersections: Citizens ? if the car crawling ahead of you has crossed the intersection, but left you no room to creep in behind it without your car blocking perpendicular traffic, don?t drive up behind it and park yourself in the intersection. And if you do, don?t look away from the bug-eyed motorists whose path you?re blocking. It only makes us crazier.

DWS ? Driving Without Signaling: That little stick to the left of the steering wheel is a rather low-tech device that lets other drivers know what your spontaneous intentions are. It?s very simple to operate and does not require an engineering degree to understand. Stick goes up, stick goes down. Stick goes up, stick goes down?

DWY ? Driving While Yapping: There has to be some brakes put on people who seem to spend their entire drive on their phone ? often oblivious to what is going on around them. We all have stories about drivers in the next car weaving through traffic with one hand on their device and the other gesticulating to the person on the other end of line.

I?ll never get it!

Quebec Transport Minister Julie Boulet, in an attempt to make the roads safer, and pander to the ?there oughta be a law? cult, already proposed legislation that would restrict the use of hand-helds while driving.

Until such legislation is passed, if you can?t keep the call short, pull over if you have to gab.

DUI ? Driving Under the Influence: Boulet also introduced plans to lower the blood-alcohol limit but I wish she would also lower the amount of times repeat offenders are allowed back on the streets.

Her proposed legislation is based on a study prepared by Quebec?s road-safety task force, chaired by Jean-Marie De Koninck.

By the way, De Koninck is also the founder of Op?ration Nez rouge, the Christmas season service that escorts inebriated and fatigued drivers home.

So if you do drink during the party season, remember, you don?t have to drive.

http://thesuburban.com/content.jsp?sid=5878939818 1911344261235726019&ctid=1000000&cnid=1013806

What would we laugh at if we didn?t have the Parti Qu?b?cois to boot around?

Of course, it?s easier to chuckle when the Peqs are mired in third place and temporarily far from power.

It?s also far healthier.

The thought of mocking the separatist party instead of instinctively blowing a gasket at their latest inanity occurred to me last Thursday when news broke that PQ leader Pauline Marois said new immigrants should be required to have an ?appropriate? working knowledge of French to be sworn in as Quebec citizens.

Brilliant!

It also said that failing to learn French would bar an immigrant from holding public office at any level, raising funds for political parties, or petitioning the National Assembly for redress of a grievance.

There?s way more, but you get the pathetic point.

After taking a deep breath, counting to 10, and repeating a few mind-numbing mantras with hands clasped firmly over my ears, I snickered and moved on. You see, the news report came only days after my annual physical, where my doctor gave his expected lecture about how I should rid myself of any blood pressure-related vices.

?Quit this, stop that, and by all means, do your best to keep your stress level down,? he said, in no particular order. So when La Marois piped up, I thought of me, not them. My les autres.

Why get mad at a cat scratching on a bed post, a dog barking for no apparent reason or a baby wetting itself? Like the Peqs, they just can?t help themselves.

During policy conventions, party militants who push the envelope further than others get the most notoriety. When leftist parties assemble in church basements, the wingnut with the most outrageous ?tax-the-rich? proposal gets the ?Che? beret. When right-wingers convene at their oak table, the one who bellows the loudest for further tax cuts and less regulation usually leaves with the box of Cuban cigars.

On social policy, the most leftist lefty pushes for more freedoms while the most right-leaning righty screams for more restrictions.

But Quebec, you see, has been a special case for a couple of generations.

Even though the majority refuses to admit it, the politics of this province are centered on nationalism, ethnicity and the new buzzword ? identity.

Party extremists fall over themselves to propose more and more policies that favour the majority at the expense of minorities. It used to be just language. Now it?s also religion.

The PQ can?t talk about a referendum right now so they are left with their only fallback option ? frothing at the mouth about ethnicity.

Roads, health care, education -? not emotional enough.

In the past, when they formed the government, I blew my fare share of gaskets.

Camille Laurin, father of Bill 101 and a hero to the majority, was the first to spike my blood pressure ? and I was still in high school.

Two divisive referendums didn?t help, and the PQ?s numerous intolerant outbursts always had me running for a cold compress.

?We?re one of the white races that has the fewest children. It doesn?t make sense!? said Lucien Bouchard in October 1995.

?It?s true we have been defeated, but basically by what? By money and the ethnic vote,? said a Jacques-red-nosed-Parizeau a few weeks later.

Or Bernard Landry, who verbally abused a hotel clerk of ethnic background after the ?95 referendum defeat. Or? oh, never mind.

Don?t even get me started about last year?s H?rouxville Manifesto, or the Bouchard-Taylor travelling reasonable accommodation circus tour with their 15-member well-remunerated advisory committee. I?m not blaming the PQ for this, but they were the ones who laid out the red carpet for it.

Listening to any late-night French language radio talk show would have provided the same amount of information on the redneck?s mindset.

It would be easy to get all riled up about this latest bit of PQ lunacy, but it?s not worth it. They are low in the polls; have serious competition from Mario Dumont?s ADQ, and the newly-minted Marois has to immediately make nice with the party diehards who spend their evenings in some smoke-filled cave conjuring up new ways to stick it to the rest of us.

It?s what they do. It gives their pathetic lives meaning.

So why blow a gasket over the musings of frustrated little people? Let?s wait until they get closer to power and see what happens.

Remember, only a few months ago, the PQ?s definition of a Quebecer was ?anyone who lives on the territory of Quebec.?

They, too, can change.

In the meantime, I prefer to laugh.

2007-10-24 09:11:20

Coming out of the shower Saturday evening, I caught the tail end of a TV news report about a bunch of women who got together to breast feed their babies in Place Bonaventure?s exhibition hall.

Naturally, I rolled my eyes, sighed, and changed stations to get the latest from Burma.

Then Sunday morning, when I read The Gazette?s report about the Montreal Breastfeeding Challenge that kicked off World Breastfeeding Week, I was horrified.

Not about public breast feeding, but because I thought maybe The Suburban missed a good story. But that thought lasted a full second and a half.

World Breastfeeding Week?

This latest in a long list of months, weeks, and days dedicated to some cause or the other apparently started in 2004 and I had no idea.

The piece said; ?At the stroke of 11 a.m. ? 437 mothers simultaneously nursed 445 babies.? The numbers didn?t match because some mothers ?cradled twins or more than one child to their breasts.?

Again ? World Breastfeeding Week?

Who the hell thinks this stuff up, sanctions it, and why should the rest of us care?

Well, the media is completely seduced and, sadly, can?t get enough. It gives us something to focus on those slow news days ? or weeks, in our case.

Morning radio and TV bingo callers can eat up valuable air time yammering on (and in some cases, giggling) about the daily tripe ? interviewing the event?s local spokesperson and either making silly jokes about the official waste of time, or getting all earnest about the few-and-far-between causes that should rightly garner our attention.

News people run after the first person they can find who will tell us why the day, week, or month is so important to them, and why it should be taken seriously.

Don?t get me wrong ? some of these national or international thingies are, in fact, great awareness boosters. They give particular diseases-of-the-week a well deserved spotlight that informs the public about all the good work that has been done, the progress seen over the past year, promotes any fundraising efforts and reminds us that they should not be forgotten.

Nothing wrong with that, but seriously, it?s gone way too far.

In the U.S., according to www.geocities.com, the month of October is; Winter Month, American Magazine Month, Adopt-A-Pet Month, Auto Battery Safety Month, Campaign for Healthier Babies Month, Computer Learning Month, Consumer Information Month, Cookbook Month, Country Music Month, Crime Prevention Month, Domestic Violence Month, Energy Awareness Month, Fire Prevention Month, Hunger Awareness Month, Mental Illness Awareness Month, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, National Cosmetology Month, National Dental Hygiene Month, National Pasta Month, National Pizza Festival Month (a ?two-for? for my paisans), and National Quality Month.

October is also Gourmet Adventures Month, International Doll Collectors Month, International Marine Travel Month, Museum Month, National Adopt-A-Shelter-Dog Month, National Family Sexuality Month, National Cooperative Month, National Popcorn Poppin? Month, National Restaurant-Hospitality Month, National Sudden Infant Death Syndrome Awareness Month, National Pork Month, National Seafood Month, National UNICEF Month, National Youth Against Tobacco Month, Spectacle of the Geese Month, Spina Bifida Month, Stamp Collecting Month, National Pretzel Month, National Clock Month, Month of the Hedgehog, Vegetarian Awareness Month, Co-Op Awareness Month, and Family History Month.

Hold on, I?m not finished.

We are told we should celebrate International Book Fair Month, Lupus Awareness Month, National Apple Jack Month (???), National AIDS Awareness Month, National Communicate With Your Kid Month, National Depression Education and Awareness Month, National Dessert Month, National Disability Employment Awareness Month, National Health Care Food Service Month, National Infertility Awareness Month, National Kitchen and Bath Month, National Polish American Heritage Month, National Car Care Month, and Sarcastics Awareness Month.

The last one I will definitely take seriously.

Health Canada?s website adds Autism Month, Celiac Awareness Month, Eye Health Month, Influenza Immunization Awareness Month, Learning Disabilities Awareness Month, Psoriasis Awareness Month, and Women?s History Month in Canada.

Sigh!

But this list only covers October?s designation as ?the month of...?

Let?s not forget the weeks.

Health Canada says October also includes Mental Illness Awareness Week, International Walk to School Week, Fire Prevention Week, National School Safety Week, and Healthy Workplace Week.

And the designated days?

We just missed the International Day for Older Persons as well as World Habitat Day, but can look forward to World Mental Health Day and the International Day for Natural Disaster Reduction on Oct. 10; World Food Day on Oct. 16; International Day for the Eradication of Poverty on Oct. 17; and Persons Day in Canada on Oct. 18.

Persons Day!!! What taxpayer-funded genius thought that one up and how many civil servant person-hours are wasted writing speeches for some fourth-rate PR hack to go out and pretend that the government actually gives a flying crap?

Sorry. Today happens to be Clip My Nostril Hairs Day and October my birthday month, so please forgive the rough-edged impertinence.

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To downtown merchants and bar and restaurant owners, I sincerely hope that the city will come to its senses (in a pig?s eye) and cut you some well deserved slack, but sorry buds ? you?ve already lost this customer.

I?ve long abandoned the downtown core because life is too bloody short.

I lived downtown for a number of year years. This was in the mid-?80s. I was much younger then and the allure of being where the action is had me seduced. Of course, I didn?t own a car back then and my annoyance with our decrepit public transit system had yet to reach its apex.

Today, living in the Snowdon area, a trip to the city centre would normally top off at 15 minutes. It used to be an easy drive south on the Decarie expressway, then east on the Ville Marie. But ever since that concrete monstrosity began to crumble, with lanes of traffic often closed because the overlapping slabs of concrete might just suddenly give way and fall on your head ? after passing transport department inspections, of course ? I prefer to stay away.

People will say that by avoiding downtown Montreal, I?m missing all the hustle and bustle. Not that I hate hustle and bustle, but too much of it makes me grumpy. Trying to negotiate traffic mayhem is one thing. Trying to negotiate the mayhem on sidewalks as a pedestrian is quite another.

If, like me, you rarely set foot in the disintegrating maze, you won?t be prepared for the confusing amount of detours and blocked roads you?ll encounter driving in and crawling out of the war zone. Driving back from a downtown conference on Darfur a few weeks ago, I was blocked at every familiar turn and every common path, forced to merge into a stream of traffic diverted from several other roads blocked in the area. What I remember being a 10-minute drive took me close to 40 minutes. I nearly went ballistic and swore up and down that the next conference I attend will be anywhere but downtown.

Parking on the street requires the amount of patience required to circle a block ? or several blocks, with the insane number of one-way streets we have ? several times in order to find a spot on the street, or pockets deep enough to afford a spot in an increasingly expensive private lot.

I have neither.

I won?t even start with the parking meter brouhaha. Two hours here, three hours there, memorize your code and walk half a block to find the place to pay, only to forget the code, walk back and start the whole process over again. Okay, so I might have been drunk at the time, but you get the point.

Borough councillor Karim Boulos, responsible for sustainable development and cleanliness (great job, by the way Karim), was recently reported as saying shoppers and merchants will have to accept the idea that they can no longer just park right in front of their favourite store or restaurant, and said; ?People are going to change their habits ... there are tons of underground parking spots available.?

Right!

I distinctly remember seeing a CTV news report about an American family that had their car in an underground parking garage in that cordoned-off area downtown a few weeks ago ? not long after I had parked in an underground garage close by. The Americans were left stranded, but luckily, when Mayor Tremblay gave the ?all clear? the next day, they were allowed to bugger off.

Underground parking in downtown Montreal is also now off my list.

Use public transit, they say. Apart from that smell and helplessly relying on someone else?s wonky schedule, I?d rather not.

And the mere though of being herded on to a shuttle bus when one of the metro lines shuts down ? as they often do ? is no relief. The buses will only get caught in the insufferable traffic, crawl along at a snail?s pace, and I will inevitably get arrested for assault and battery.

I now politely decline invitations to parties, restaurants and get-togethers taking place in the downtown core. Then again, being a misanthropic curmudgeon, I avoid all invitations to parties, restaurants and get-togethers, but again, that?s beside the point.

In addition, they now want to increase the number of bicycle lanes to encourage eco-friendly cyclists to two-wheel it into work. Nice idea ? if we lived in a cow patch.

In these pages, Daniel Bartlett wrote that Alexandre Restaurant owner Alain Creton said; ?In the ?90s Montreal had a lot of vacant buildings, a lot of stores that were for rent. We were becoming like a lot of other North American cities ? a doughnut hole ? where people come to work and where nobody lives during the night.?

Creton is right. I lived it. Creton then said; ?People will stay on the outside, they won?t come to Montreal.?

Right on again. I won?t pretend to speak for the rest of you, but I?d rather head north to sit in a dentist?s chair, than head south and sit in bloody downtown Montreal traffic ? and I really hate dentists.

http://thesuburban.com/content.jsp?sid=10739614528 084524512388597311&ctid=1000002&cnid=1012743

Last Friday started off much like any other Friday for me. I was as surly as ever.

I took my usual route north on the Decarie Blvd. service road, hanging in the smooth-sailing right lane until Jean Talon Blvd., where I would merge left into the third lane and continue north.

On most mornings, after crossing the intersection, I would see a couple of cars being ticketed by Montreal?s finest.

I never knew why, but would smugly drive by, convinced that whatever they did, they deserved a ticket and the boys and girls in blue were simply keeping our roads safe.

That was until I got flagged over.

Me? I drive like an old lady (no offense).

Obviously, there must have been some mistake and I expected the officer to wave me off. That they were actually flagging someone else but that fantasy was short-lived.

I was informed that I was about to receive a ticket and when I politely asked ?for what?? I was told that I had crossed the intersection from a lane reserved for right turns only during rush hour, and that the penalty was a $150 ticket ? to be received in the mail.

I laughed and said ?you?ve got to be kidding.?

The policeman smirked and said ?sorry, ?I?m not. There have been many accidents at this intersection??

?Yeah, but none cause by me,? I piped in.

We both laughed, but this time, mine was nervous.

?How could I be given a ticket for breaking a law that I didn?t even know existed?? I said. ?How was I supposed to know staying in my lane, crossing on a green, below the speed limit was illegal??

He politely replied that there are a couple of signs back there.

?When did you put them up? Last night?? I asked, my sarcasm no longer contained.

?No, seven years ago,? he answered.

I will spare you the details of my long-winded side-of-the-road rant, but suffice it to say, the cop was a good sport about it.

I?ve driven this route every day for years and never saw any bleeding signs, but then, that's because that intersection is one of those places where keeping one eye on the road and the other on everyone else is a must.

Looking through tree branches to read signs hung 10 feet up a pole would be the last thing on my mind.

For those unfamiliar with this patch of road, the northbound service road just before Jean Talon is always congested during rush hour.

Cars exiting the expressway on the left have to cross four lanes within a few hundred metres if they want to make a right and head east on Jean Talon.

Cars in the middle two lanes of the service road jockey for position while trying to avoid maniacal lane-crossers, while drivers in the right lane who want to continue north must decide when to leave the peaceful tranquility of the safe lane, and merge into the madness.

The traffic light at Jean Talon holds drivers in the right lane for about 10 seconds longer than those going straight, so I understand that if your car is first in line and you don?t plan to turn, you?re potentially holding up cars that want to turn right.

But that wasn?t my case. No one would let me merge left, I had free road ahead of me, so I did what any sane person would do. I crossed the bleepin? street.

I like to think I?m a cautious driver. One of the few in this road-raging town that respects speed limits, slows down on a yellow light and actually uses that little stick to the left of the steering wheel ? you know, the turn signal.

A colleague suggests I fight the thing in court, but since he?s also a lawyer, I figure its an automatic reflex.

Not that I wouldn?t want to contest the stupid ticket, but the thought of wasting a day waiting in the dreary lobby of a building populated by lawyers, clerks, bureaucrats ? and real criminals ? makes my skin crawl.

http://thesuburban.com/content.jsp?sid=5897435220 0479902410754326185&ctid=1000002&cnid=1012231

I?ve been defeated. I?ve held out long enough and now emerge waving a white flag. Call me a surrender monkey if it pleases you because that?s what I am.

Resistance was futile.

Let?s talk about Paris ? Hilton, that is.

The 26-year old American celebrity, socialite, model, actress and, ahem, recording artist, heiress to a share of both the Hilton Hotel and real estate fortune, and over-exposed bint famous for just being famous.

I had never wanted to add my two cents to the whole sordid affair, but here it is.

Christopher Hitchens said it best in his Slate magazine opinion piece published two weeks ago, titled Siege of Paris (later reprinted in The Gazette).

?There is a huge trapdoor waiting to open under anyone who is critical of so-called ?popular culture? or (to redefine this subject) anyone who is uneasy about the systematic, massified cretinization of the major media.

?If you denounce the excess coverage, you are yourself adding to the excess. If you show even a slight knowledge of the topic, you betray an interest in something that you wish to denounce as unimportant or irrelevant.?

Ouch!

Since Hilton got arrested a while back for driving with a suspended license ? the result of previous drunk driving arrests ? and landed, then un-landed, only to land again behind bars for a few weeks, it?s been all-Paris-all-the-time.

Now, you can blame the media all you want for the wretched excess, but if it wasn?t for the public?s insatiable demand for this drivel, it wouldn?t be shoved down our throats so damn often.

What?s the matter with you people?

Why do you care?

Hilton?s life is and has been one long vapid publicity stunt, and it would have ended years ago had the masses not been clamouring for the next tart-worthy utterance, or panty-less limo-exit.

Okay! So I admit to seeing some of the notorious video tape of Hilton in that romp with whatshisname.

Okay, all of it ? but for journalistic purposes only, of course. And if I saw it more than once, it was only because I wanted to get the quotes right.

I wouldn?t have a problem with media coverage of the twit if it were confined to celebrity gossip publications and entertainment TV shows.

Hey, it wouldn?t even bother me if breaking news of La Hilton?s latest escapade was relegated to a one-minute segment at the bottom half of the nightly newscast, or on page six of the daily paper.

But no matter how hard one tries to avoid the celebutard, there she is.

Tonight (Wednesday), Hilton will be on CNN?s Larry King Live for the entire show.

What she could possibly have to say that would eat up more than 10 minutes is beyond me, but millions of people will watch with bated breath waiting for her every banal utterance ? waiting to hear details of her 23-day incarceration in Los Angeles County jails.

Hilton landed the King gig only after being turned down by the three broadcast networks when they finally got wind that they were embroiled in a low-brow bidding war with each other and the spectre of pocket-book journalism reared its ugly head.

Both CNN and a spokesperson for Hilton said the diva was not being compensated for the interview.

How magnanimous of them both.

The next day?s guaranteed front-page stories about her will only rev up the Paris machine, and King can again boast of getting another sleazy exclusive.

Excuse me while I shudder.

With King, Hilton will get to recount her jail-time experience and shed a few tears for good measure.

Said Hilton in a statement: ?I am thrilled that Larry King has asked me to appear on his program to discuss my experience in jail, what I have learned, how I have grown and anything else he wants to talk about.

?Larry King is not only a world-renowned journalist, but a true American icon. It will be an [honour] to do his show.?

What a bleepin? idiot.

For the record, I will not be among the millions who will sit down to watch the grizzled old coot do his fawning thing tonight. But I?m sure I?ll be hearing all about it tomorrow anyway.

Comments? E-mail anthony@thesuburban.com.

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Jean Charest is either crazy like a fox, or just plain crazy. The most unpopular Quebec leader since the last most unpopular Quebec leader, Charest has picked a fine time to throw down the gauntlet and dare the opposition to bring down his government.

A mere two months after the election of the province?s first minority government in more than 125 years, Quebecers are suddenly faced with another first ? its possible collapse.

And for what? A proposed tax cut?

Distinct society indeed.

Charest got elected four years ago on the promise ? among many others made and broken ? to reduce taxes by $1 billion a year. But when the books of the previous PQ government were opened, the Libs realized that ? all together now ? the province?s financial situation was in worse shape than previously believed.

This time, coming off the humiliating slap-down of the March 26 election, Charest was determined to finally give Quebec?s overtaxed middle class the tax break he promised four years ago. But the same political parties that put Charest on the rack for not keeping his previous promise are now tearing him a new one for announcing he would finally keep it.

Both the PQ and the ADQ are playing a high-handed game of poker ? as usual, with our money ? by threatening to topple the government over cuts that most Quebecers, according to a recent L?ger Marketing poll, don?t seem to want.

That most of the $950 million tax cut would be financed by generous equalization payments from the rest of Canada was not really the issue.

That other provinces tightened their own belts so that we spoiled brats could maintain the most generous social programs and the most bloated bureaucracy this side of Castro?s Cuba was mostly irrelevant.

The ADQ, being the loyal opposition and all, are obliged to oppose, no matter how sane the government?s money bill. The party of the middle class that was always for tax cuts now said ?not at the expense of a budget deficit.?

And the PQ, whose unofficial slogan is ?hose the rich,? is genetically predisposed to oppose tax cuts for the rich, which in their definition is anybody not on welfare.

The end result is all three parties are puffing themselves up and bluffing that they are ready and in election mode. Never mind that the PQ is $3 million in debt, half of Mario Dumont?s ADQ caucus still wet themselves and that Charest?s Liberals are in freefall. None of them bothered to ask if the electorate is in election mode. So the province is going through another week of eye-popping dramatics.

Ever since the budget announcement, we have been bombarded with a barrage of hyped-up hypothetical questions from over-excited media types (present company excluded of course).

Would the lieutenant governor ? whoever it is if and when the government collapses ? invite Mario Dumont?s ADQ to try to form the next government?

Would Dumont be crazy enough to accept and expose his not-ready-for prime-time cabal of political neophytes to the responsibility of actually running something?

Would Pauline Marois? third-place PQ, with the wind now in its tattered sails, be ready to jump back into a race?

On and on it went until calmer heads apparently prevailed on Monday. The Libs and the PQ were in ?secret? talks all weekend and agreed to negotiate a price. They?re all whores.

A couple of weeks ago, when the Liberal braintrust ? an oxymoron these days ? conjured up their budget plan, it looked like the Andr? Boisclair-led PQ was in no position to oppose anything.

But ever since Marois? arrival, there?s been a certain bounce in the PQ step. Their poll numbers have risen and by taking the immediate threat of another referendum off the table, PQ voters started crawling back.

What Charest seems to forget is that both Dumont and Marois stand before him for the affection of Francophone Quebec, and the Liberal?s usual base of supporters are so miffed that they are starting to look elsewhere ? anywhere.

Dumont?s ADQ will also have a much easier time attracting money and credible candidates the next time around and the PQ is not going the way of the Dodo just yet.

Will Charest pay a price for his arguably reckless behaviour?

Only time will tell, and this being Quebec, the answer is likely to change 24 hours later.

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