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Chicken Shit

January 16, 2008 @ 10:48

What a turnaround. On Monday when I wrote the posting Redheads there was overwhelming response. Not only did over thirty people comment on it, I also received about a dozen direct e-mails.

Yesterday I did a follow up and invited someone of the red-haired persuasion to contact me for the first telephone interview and I received nothing.

Buffalo Boy talked about having a redheaded girlfriend back in the 70’s, but that was it. There were no more comments and definitely no offers to be the first phone interview on which is now equipped to do interviews just like a real radio station. It's really cool.

It seems a lot of you buggers are chicken shit. You write a big game, but when it comes to sharing the microphone you run and hide. Too bad.

I’m still open to the original offer – and I’m open to suggestions for other interviews you might want to hear.

Who should I call? Who should I talk to?

Category: Stuff

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January 15, 2008 @ 10:27

Scarborough councilors are pissed off and so they should be.

In a recent edition of Toronto Life, Scarborough was referred to as a bleak, gang infested “Scarlem.”

Councilor Norm Kelly is leading the charge because he thinks Scarborough takes a bad rap and actually gets the short end of the stick when it comes to city services – and those shortages are based on reputation.

I feel for Scarborough because it’s where I grew up and I hold it close to my heart, much like I do Brampton today, another place that takes a bad rap.

I’m sure you’ve heard Brampton referred to as “Bramladesh” before while being insulted by people who’ve never lived here. It’s ignorant and just not fair and I’m sure the people of Scarborough feel the same way.

Councilor Kelly says it’s amazing how all the wonderful things about Scarborough are ignored, while little pockets of the city are put under the magnifying glass.

Like Brampton, Scarborough has a wealth of beautiful attributes and neighbourhoods that make it a fantastic place to live. But they’re buried under a vicious stream of accusations that just don’t hold up.

Scarborough has great parks, recreational facilities, the bluffs and enjoys what Brampton enjoys, a rich multi-cultural population that at the very least offers some fantastic places to eat.

You can go anywhere in the GTA and pick out things about certain areas that aren’t very attractive, but for some reason they don’t take the pounding that Scarborough does.

And while I’m on the subject of Scarborough, I’d like to send my condolences to CFRB’s Scott Ferguson and his family.

Scott’s dad Harold passed away at Scarborough General Hospital early yesterday. He was 84.

Scott grew up in the same Scarborough neighbourhood as my wife Delyse and we all went to the same high school, Winston Churchill Collegiate Institute.

As a matter of fact there’s a long list of media people who went to Churchill. Scott Ferguson, Scott Morrison, Dave Perkins, Alan Ryan, Bob McCown and myself.

am 640's Mike Stafford lived in Scarborough as a kid, so did CFRB’s Bill Carroll and good guy Bruce Barker who works in radio out west.

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Phone Freddie P.

January 15, 2008 @ 10:25

My oh my. Yesterday’s posting entitled “Redheads” sure got a lot of response.

There’s no great mystery to what people like to think and talk about.

Not that yesterday’s posting was specifically about sex mind you, but it did deal with a part of the body where sex happens and the comments came pouring in.

As by new pal Bill Brioux wrote, “good to know you've established the area of audience interest, I never get this kind of response writing about TV.

It dealt with the nether regions of redheads and I admitted that for a good portion of my life I always wondered if red-haired women were red down below as well.

I got this response from W.H.
"Speaking from experience (I'm red head) The carpet and curtains match (if a real red head chooses to keep the broadloom). I know you only care about the female perspective (Sorry I'm a male), it's the same for the women as it is for the men."

I got this response from Suzanne.
"I'm a "true" red head and yes I'm red below. However, I choose to remove most of the red below because men prefer the soft feel.
I do actually keep a small "red zone" down below, just to add excitement!
Once a man has been with a red head - they usually stay with red heads!!!"

Here’s what Jill had to say.
"I am a red head upstairs but not downstairs. More of a lightish brown. And yes, neatly trimmed Fred!"

From Karen.
"I'm a true red head but I proudly sport a great big well groomed argyle bush.
It's the wildest thing you ever saw !"

From Martha
"Hey Karen, I'm with you...the thicker the better. My hubby loves my fiery red out of control region!!! BTW - you're not supposed to trim that area."

Cindy said.
"Freddie, I'm a real red head, but now that I really take a look and pay attention to the nether region it has more of a brunet look to it. I will do some more investigating tonight when I do my nightly trimming/shaving/waxing routine."

And this from Angela.
"Real red-head, and my husband calls me fire crotch! Nice, neat and trimmed!"

Listen, I’m not a moron; I realize some of these responses are probably phony, but at the same time, some might be genuine and it got me to thinking. is now equipped to do phone interviews and I thought it would be neat if the first interview was with someone who was willing to talk about the phenomenon.

Preferably a woman, but I won't discriminate. I could probably stomach a guy for a few minutes 'cause I want to try out my new stuff. if you're interested.

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January 14, 2008 @ 09:31

There’s an interesting story in the Star this morning about people with red hair. It deals with the future of redheads and the future isn’t bright.

Red hair comes from a recessive gene and it’s vital that redheads bone each other to avoid extinction. There are exceptions to the rule, and the odd red head will pop out from non red haired parents, but it’s believed to continue the strain, redheads should be brought together or the redhead could be gone within one hundred years.

This got me to thinking.

I was always intrigued by red-haired women. Back when I was young and single I always wondered if red heads were also red down below.

Upon investigation I found out from a friend that had been with a few red heads that it can actually be hit and miss. Some were consistent with the hair on their head, but others were actually brunet in the nether regions.

I have to admit on more than one accession in my younger days I thought about hookin’ up with a red head just to have a quick look and then move on – but it never happened.

Today I’m not so concerned. As a happily married old guy I don’t pay much attention to redheads these days and I assume all the fun has been taken out of the guessing game that I enjoyed when I was young.

From what I gather all young women are exactly the same down there now-a-days.

No black, no brown, no red. Just right down to the wood.

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January 14, 2008 @ 09:30

It’s the opinion of some in the city that most of the gun violence in Toronto could actually be a good thing.

More often than not, the victim is a scum bag much on the level of the scum bag that shot him. In other words, a lot of the gun violence accomplishes what our court system can’t seem to do.

Deliver a severe sentence that makes sure a scum bag can never be a scum bag again.

The problem is, from time to time someone dies in the crossfire and this has to be the most maddening part of Toronto’s gun problem. More and more the creeps who carry guns are showing less and less regard for who’s in between them and their target.

Early Saturday morning another person died on Yonge Street. A 42 year old father of one was on his way to the subway when shots were fired in front of a peeler bar.

John O’Keefe died instantly because two scum bags were upset at being thrown out of the Brass Rail. One of them fired shots at the bouncer, but instead a bullet hit a man who had nothing to do with the dispute and now he’s dead.

It really is difficult to comprehend how some people live. I know most of the people who read this blog could never conceive carrying a gun let alone using it, so it’s hard to imagine how anyone could be so upset at being thrown out of a bar that they’d shoot someone over it.

How useless in you status as a human being that you don’t bother to measure the consequences of your actions against the severity of your apparent insult.

These guys could have been thrown out the bar, screamed a few words at the bouncer, then gone home and wrote it off as an experience.

Instead, because they couldn’t stay in the freakin' Brass Rail of all places, they’re facing first degree murder charges....... and it shows how frighteningly vulnerable all of us are.

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Rosie's Right

January 11, 2008 @ 10:47

I really can’t believe I’m doing this, but for the second time in a week I’m directing your attention towards a Rosie DiManno column in the Toronto Star.

I’ll repeat what I said last week, DiManno can write, the problem is most of the time I don’t like “what” she writes.

But her piece today entitled “Where are parents of juvenile thugs” is dead on.

Many times over the past couple of years I’ve been accused on this site of over simplifying the gang problem in the GTA. I’ve maintained all along that it’s a parenting problem.

While committees gather and reports are published sighting everything under but the root problem, kids continue to run wild in some of our schools.

There’s no doubt that eventually other factors play a part in the gang warfare that’s taking place all over the city, but the behaviour that produces a gang member is allowed to develop at home.

There is no accountability in those homes and much too often there is just one parent in those homes and there’s a culture that refuses to change.

We’re also being let down by school administrators and politicians who don’t have the balls to challenge or identify the root problem head on because they’re terrified of being called racist.

My head spins when I think of all the money that’s being wasted on commissions and reports and committees that release findings that fly above the head of the real problem facing so many troubled kids.

Their parents are assholes.

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Freddie P. On The Street

January 11, 2008 @ 10:46

Earlier this week you may have heard the city of Toronto will license 15 new street vendors to sell food other than hot dogs and sausages.

According to the Mayor “Toronto is ethnically diverse, so that should be reflected in who gets the new licenses.”

I plan to go after one.

It’s become painfully obvious that the employment options for a 51 year old former radio guy are extremely limited so I have to branch out. I have to think of other things, and I’m convinced my mother in laws chicken curry would be a smash hit on the streets of Toronto.

The new carts that will be licensed by the city with be elaborate and more than capable for me to serve fresh curry all day long.

Over the years my mother in law Joan has taught me pretty well. I am so close to nailing her curry recipes that most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

I know how to fry the curry powder into the meat at the precise temperature and I’ve got the other stuff figured out too. The additional spices and the respect for a bay leaf.

Curry fans think they know curry, but you haven’t had curry till you’ve had Joan’s and it goes beyond chicken curry. Depending on the size of the cart that I buy, I might be able to offer beef curry and mutton curry as well.

Hell, Joan even showed me how to make a spectacular mince curry. She can turn a pound of ground beef into a taste treat that would blow your mind.

Some might think this is a humiliating end for the “Fred” franchise in Toronto, but it’s not really.

If I bought a sausage cart it might be different. I’d just be another one of those guys grilling sausages and hot dogs not offering anything different, just going through the motions not providing anything new to the market. That would be humiliating.

By owning a late model “curry cart” with all the bells and whistles I would command a respect that few vendors could ever dream of.

I’ll be that guy that everybody talks about… the guy that people will go out of their way to patronize… I’ll create water cooler talk and make sure every curry is better than the last one… I’ll try to hit a home run every time I start the stove… Eventually I’ll own more than one cart and make more money by converging… I’ll have two, three maybe four carts but I’ll make the curry for all of them… I’ll lure people out of Curry College to be interns with the promise of eventually paying them, which will turn out to be next to nothing, while assuring a bright future that I’m not sure exists… I’ll own the curry eatin’ demographic and give my sales staff something worth selling... I’ll make more money than I could ever possibly spend while publicly crying poor… and then pending Canadian Curry and Roti Commission approval, (CCRC) I’ll sell all my vending licenses to a huge curry conglomerate and become even richer... The conglomerate will probably ruin the curry by immediately cutting costs but at that point, what the hell do I care?

It’s a fantastic plan.

Who the hell needs radio?

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Thankyou Oprah

January 10, 2008 @ 10:00

Holy Cow, was the Oprah Show ever good last night. It was about lesbians.

More specifically about women who marry and then come to terms with the fact they’re gay. I’ll be honest, for a guy such as myself who’s a lesbian fan, the show was fascinating.

The first segment involved a woman named Chris who was married to a guy named Joe.

Seven years into their marriage she couldn’t suppress it anymore, she had to tell Joe that she was gay and she had to get out of the marriage because she had fallen in love with another woman.

Not all guys would admit it, but for most of us news like this would cause mixed reaction. I know at first I would be surprised, but then being the level headed guy I am, I’d try to make it work.

I’d ask my wife what I could do to make the transition as easy as possible. Could I sort of be the in-between guy if you know what I mean? Could I still be involved on some level?

This segment was actually a tad disappointing however because Chris was your classic lipstick lesbo. She was a very attractive woman that any fan of the lesbian would love to see in action with another lipstick lesbo of the same sort.

However I quickly became aghast when they showed Chris’s current partner who looked more masculine than the husband she dumped. There’s no way I’d want to be the in-between guy in this relationship because the other chick was extremely rugged and therefore intimidating.

And to back up a bit, there was another wild twist to this story. Shortly after Chris told Joe that she was gay, Joe told Chris that he was gay. Extremely odd, but not enough to get my mind off Chris who was hot as a pistol but mired in a relationship with another woman who looked like Dougie Gilmour.

As I watched the show I kept saying to my wife, “what a waste.” She’s gorgeous and she’s gay but she mows on somebody who looks like her brother.

“You’re sick” is all my wife would say.

But she just doesn’t realize that most men love the lipstick lesbo and all the wonderful things they bring to the world, and just as I said that, the show ended with a bang.

Oprah introduced a woman who had just left her husband for another woman and she was good looking. Not as good looking as Chris mind you, but still good enough to make your thing spring.

She told her intriguing story of not wanting to bone her husband for years on end and then finally telling him that she had to leave the relationship for another woman.

And then they showed her new partner and she was like something out of one of those movies they show on the Movie Network after midnight on Starchoice channel 603.

Baby come on! Let’s be doing it!

Sometimes I really like Oprah.

Category: Stuff | Television

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The Wind

January 9, 2008 @ 10:00

I’ve always been this way. I can’t stand the wind. To me the wind is creepy and gloomy and threatening and as I’ve said many times over the years, the wind can wreck an otherwise great day.

This morning I woke up about three thirty and after reminding myself for about the 900th consecutive morning that I didn’t have to get up and go to a radio station, I laid back and listened to the ugly wind outside.

It came in blasting gusts and I could hear things rattle and bang around the house.

The gate beside the house is loose on the latch, shrubs that grow higher than the windows scraped along the glass, the bedroom window rattled a couple of times and I could hear the cover on my swimming pool flapping at the edges.

At one point my wife woke up and said she could feel the house move.

It was horrid, and while I sit here and write this it continues to be horrid.

Twice I’ve had to go out and fix the water bags around the pool and while I was out their part of the roof blew off my Tiki Bar.

I came inside and just in time to look out the front and see and blue box get swept up the road at a high rate of speed and there was flying newspaper everywhere.

No, I don’t like the wind. Even on a beautiful summer day with bright sunshine and heat, I can’t stand it when there’s a strong wind. It’s the sound and the feel and the inconvenience it brings by blowing things all over the place.

I hate wind on the golf course and I hate wind on the lake. Nothing like a nice day up north only to have the lake became ugly with white caps while boats are tossed around and skiers are kept at their docks.

Tell me right now, have you ever tried to sit by a campfire with swirling wind as part of the seen, it can literally choke the life out of you if you don't move fast enough.

Or what about being in the Caribbean and having the wind be an issue. I once went to Aruba and spent most of the week picking sand out of my teeth. Sand got into my beer.

I even hate wind chimes.

I find them depressing and lonely. There’s nothing I hate worse than silence all around me except for the tinkling of wind chimes in the distance. I refuse to have them on my property and I’ve been known to dismantle them on other people’s property.

Believe me, the sound of wind chimes combined with the sound of leaves blowing on a tree with nobody around can bum me out in seconds flat.

I’m not kidding. I hate the wind.

The wind blows.

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Another Double Standard

January 8, 2008 @ 09:47

This has been a bone of contention for me for some time. The way men are treated on television. Like we’re big dorks who can be abused at any turn with no repercussions.

When you get right down I wouldn’t really care about this if there wasn’t such a double standard. There are so many cases on TV where men get treatment that women wouldn’t.

I can't begin to recall all the commercials over the past few years that have stereotyped white males as goofy goobers who sit on the couch and do nothing but watch sports while being physically abused.

Yes, physically abused.

Leading up to Christmas there was a Rogers commercial promoting one of their MP3 phones. A group of young adults are in a coffee shop and a phone rings.

It’s picked up by a young fella who begins talking to the mother of a female friend, and the mother asks advice on what to get her daughter for Christmas. The girl says something about an MP3 phone, but the guy jerks her chain by rapping off a bunch of other crap the girl wouldn’t want.

So what happens? The girl jumps up and grabs the guy by the nose and squeezes inflicting obvious pain.

No big deal right? Not until you reverse the roles and appreciate that they would never produce a commercial where a young man would grab a woman in a similar manner and inflict pain. It just wouldn’t happen.

And how about the most recent Molson Canadian commercial featuring that naïve guy who finds himself in all kinds of situations?

None of the commercials have really done it for me, I think they’re weak and rather stupid but this latest one says it all.

The guy is at a party and ends up tied to a hockey net in his underwear with bull’s eyes all over the place. And just as the commercial ends a bull’s eye appears over his nuts.

Need I say more?

Would there ever be a commercial produced featuring a woman stripped down to her underwear tied to anything with a bull’s eye over her va-hoo-hoo?

I rest my case.

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