20 April 2012

Neighbourhood Watch

You’d think reading is all I do here (library limelights). Mind you, we all do have to read to Keep Up with the cost of living, medical procedures, celebrity gossip, plane crashes, and earthquake statistics. If you’re like me, you’re also desperate to find some uncontrived humour in a world they say is continually going to hell and we know it because the top and bottom bits are already melting. Reading for pleasure is thus mandatory for balance. OK, so it does take up a lot of my time, but one has to escape.

Nevertheless, other obligations call. The neighbourdamhood requires constant vigilance. So many urban issues. Encroachment, disrespect, and destruction are rampant. They will require separate blog treatments but for now, just a few tiny vents. 

Take the construction crews ripping up pavement and sidewalks with their big boy toys, as far as the eye can see.


Please. Take them. They need reminding to go home at night. They are ever so courteous when plucking people out of their holes, but really, guys. Time to take your unholy racket, vibrations, and noxious fumes to torture another neighbourhood. 

Then we can’t let the high-rise dinks take over what’s left of the sidewalks with their yappy li’l purse dogs and pram dogs. Accidents waiting to happen. Admittedly it could be worse ... it could be the sounds of yappy li’l kids bouncing around our brick walls. Little kids for sure turn into teenagers and who needs more of them around with even bigger voices and lurid late-night habits. We have the fitness club over there blasting the street with non-stop salsa music in competition with the Irish pub on the corner. Truly it has some awesome uplifting moments, but the jackhammers always win.


You can tell when it’s Wednesday because the fearless performing artistes get released from their low-rise lockup. Racing their scooters to the drugstore for seniors’ discount day, a few plate glass windows don’t slow them down. I have no problem with the groovy machines—pretty soon we will all have one—it’s the morons who operate them. Blessings on you, government, for the handout but it’s way past time for mandatory driving lessons!

Also, we were thinking of a mass intervention to outlaw speaking on cell phones in public places; six blocks all around me would be a start. No fines, just straight to army boot camp. Check: we still have an army? Oui, bon. Jail is reserved for the stubborn who feed the flying rats, thereby inviting the real rats and racoons to dine and multiply. The world is going to vermin on its way to hell. Polar bears would be preferable but they’re not this far south. Yet.

We probably need more signs put up to keep everyone on the straight and narrow. SIGNS. That’s it. A crew for designing and erecting signs. I can’t do it all myself.

 ~ Pigeon feeders will be snatched and fed to feral cats ~

~ This is a bus stop shelter, not your bedroom ~

~ Sniffing hand sanitizer won’t make you high ~

~ Tour buses: stuff your diesel exhaust up your noses ~

A good neighbour’s work is never done. Gotta run, you can see how busy I am. I’ll be back.

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