As seen in basement of the CBC’s Toronto Broadcasting Centre, near the area where the props and design folks made their last stand.
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-31-2007 | 02:07 PM
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Spotted in boardroom 7A113, right next to CBC Television senior management. They get French lessons there from time to time.
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-30-2007 | 09:07 AM
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As seen outside the CBC-TV senior management offices. Until recently, this hallway was an ode to the 80s, with publicity photos of Mr. Dressup and Roy Bonisteel. The’ve finally got some new ones - and in lieu of actual old photos, they’ve made some new ones into black and white! Perhaps this process can be applied to the CBC Museum, too - just take some new signs and props and make them sepia, or colour the edges with lemon juice and a match.
The new mounting system looks a little bit temporary, though, doesn’t it? I’m pretty sure it’s Velcro.
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-28-2007 | 03:07 PM
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Ottawa, the most dangerous city on Earth.
As seen on a publicity poster for The National.
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-27-2007 | 10:07 AM
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(See what happens when you sit on a post too long? I prepared this a week ago, so I could fit it into my “theme week”, and now I read about it elsewhere. But it’s all good news.)
You may remember this giant fascia sign, from the corner of Front and Simcoe Streets by CBC’s Toronto offices.
You may also recall that this sign was illegal. (Above image courtesy of the Tea Makers, who pointed out that the sign was illegal and then pointed out that it was still up more than a year after the city ordered CBC to take it down.)
Well, finally, it’s gone.
See, the view from those windows is almost as good as before, if you don’t mind the tape.
The cynic in me says we should be embarassed this illegal sign went up in the first place, and doubly embarassed that it stayed up for a year after the 14-day cease-and-desist order from the city (and spending something like $140,000 to keep it there illegally.) Still, kudos to someone for biting the bullet and doing the right thing. Eventually.
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-26-2007 | 10:07 AM
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Every day this week: CBC Signage of the Apocalypse! Why? To celebrate my blog’s first anniversary, and because I’m fascinated with signs. Why I’m starting on Wednesday? I don’t know. First up…
Spotted outside the John St. entrance to the CBC HQ in Toronto. This orange spraypainted line signfies:
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Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-25-2007 | 09:07 AM
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OK, so despite all the blog entries I’ve got waiting in the hopper, I had to say a few words about last night’s excellent Police concert at the Air Canada Centre.
I was a huge Police fan in high school. Huge. Problem was, I was a few years too young to catch them in concert. All my friends’ older brothers went to the Police Picnics (they also gave me wedgies) but I didn’t really twig to the band until Ghost in the Machine. I was rabid by the time Synchronicity came out, but then, so was everybody.
So last night was a chance to correct a missed opportunity of 25 years. And to seal the deal, I went with my old high school friend Peter, who was also a big fan.
We seemed to be typical of the ACC crowd – security staff were careful to weed out anyone not between the ages of 30 and 40. Like the band, we’ve aged a little from the days when the Police played the Horseshoe Tavern. Dancing was replaced by happy tapping of feet, and during the slow songs you could see people rhythmically waving their Blackberries. I did smell pot at one point, but it may have been a special effect.
The night began with a reasonable set by mini-Sting, son Joe Sumner’s band Fiction Plane. He too plays in a trio – and I’m reminded how uncommon that actually is. He’s got a great voice, much like his father’s, but the set sounded like mud and nobody really cared. To alter the expression, the Police are a tough act to precede.
While Fiction Plane was droning, I wandered about in search of an overpriced T-shirt. There were many to be had, but they were astoundingly lame, which made me fear for the concert ahead. See, the Police don’t have a new album out, and everyone knows why they are touring: a) to make money, b) to give the crowd a selection of greatest hits. (Quality time with Sting Jr. is probably 59th on the list.)
Making money on former glory was the souvenir theme too: previous album covers silk screened on T-shirts (plus a nondescript “reunion tour” shirt indistinguishable from the scalper versions available at Union Station, except that they cost $30 more.) Seriously, they sold the same Synchronicity T I had in high school and now use for washing the car. If I could have found (or fit into) my Dream of the Blue Turtles shirt, I’d have blended right in. I briefly pondered whether buying and wearing a Ghost in the Machine golf shirt would carry enough apparent irony to be worth $60, but decided the answer was no.
Anyhow, soon enough the lights dimmed, the crowd went nuts, Message in a Bottle started, and I was transported back to the great time I missed out on lo so many years ago. The band was very tight – no sign of rust, bickering or arthritis here. Sting looks exactly the same as he did 20 years ago; Stewart Copeland hasn’t aged much either. Andy Summers looks a little jowly, but he doesn’t play with his face and his hands are none the worse for wear. On the contrary, in concert he was given plenty of opportunities to do those lovely, wanking 70s-style guitar solos that didn’t appear on any album. I’d have thrown my underwear if I was 500 feet closer.
To my delight, it appeared that both Sting and Andy Summers were playing the same battered instruments they used the first time around. Sting’s bass had no varnish left on it and only half the wood; Summers is the reason I bought a Fender Telecaster in university. (I was about to put it up for sale actually – contact me if you are in the market – but after last night I think I need to play it a few times first. I learned a quite a few Police songs when I used to play, though of course I lacked the talent and effects pedals to do them justice. I was probably the worst guitarist in our school, but I did own a flanger, and fingers long enough to play Every Breath You Take. If I had either tone, rhythm or dexterity I’d have been a rock god.)
That dreaded song did get played, in workmanlike fashion (it’s a song about stalking that later made Sting uncomfortable, and its original recording session nearly killed them.) In fact, there was a certain workmanlike, professional edge to the whole affair, as if everyone knew what the assignment was, and decided to carry it out to the very best of their abilities, whether or not the passion of three decades ago was still there. They did appear to be enjoying themselves somewhat, particularly when they acknowledged the crowd between encores.
Anyhow, the concert was a real treat. Before hand, Peter and I decided on the three tracks we’d most like to hear (Next to You, Truth Hits Everybody and Omega Man) and the first two were delivered, with gusto. A couple of songs were altered to accommodate aging vocal chords, and the mix was occasionally iffy (how hard can it be to mic a trio?) but these are small comments on an otherwise delightful evening.
Now, if I could just bring Joe Strummer back from the dead for a Clash reunion, catch a touchdown and date a cheerleader, my revisionist high school years will be complete. Oh, and erase the wedgies.
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-24-2007 | 11:07 AM
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It occurs to me that it was a year ago this month that I began this foray into blogging. Every blogger I know marks such anniversaries with some sort of lame lookback or “clip show” of their highlights and lowlights - I’m not going to bore you with much of that, but I will pause a moment, then move on.
My first actual blog post came on June 18, 2006, on an anonymous test blog I created called Chairman Mayo. Not much came of it, though it did launch my uneasy fascination with gazillionaire chairman Mayo Shattuck III. (Congratulate him too, I see he followed my lead and got his own web domain too. Once I build a nuclear reactor, look after Bin Laden’s money and marry a cheerleader, we’ll be even.)
Chairman Mayo lasted exactly three posts, after which time I realized there was no point in trying to maintain anonymity, and I stepped into the light under my own name. My first real blog post was on July 11, 2006, a piddly entry called “Does every blog start with ‘Welcome to my blog?’”
There have been some interesting steps and missteps along the way: pissing off a Web 2.0 guru on day 10, switching to WordPress, co-authoring the CBC Blogging Manifesto, hammering out a few obits, spoofing my employer and blogging about toilets.
And here I am, exactly 200 posts later - better than a post every other day, which isn’t so bad, plus another 76 posts for Inside the CBC. Also (though you’d never know it thanks to Akismet spam filtering) some 20,936 spam entries aimed at my blog comments fields. Check the ratio on that: more than 10 bits of crap targetted at every one bit of crap I crank out.
Another number that I appreciate: 483 legit reader comments, more than two per entry. I want to thank everyone who took the time to say their bit - they’ll never admit it, but you have no idea how badly bloggers crave comments and feeback to justify their time expenditures. Thanks very much, and keep them coming.
Oh, and I still boast the tidy number of posts read by my wife: zero, and holding. That’s probably a good thing too.
Here’s to doubling all those numbers for next year, including the last one.
On that note, I’m hoping to pick up the pace a bit over the next few weeks. I’ve got a dozen ideas in draft form, and I’ll be reintroducing a number of regular features I created in the early days of this blog. I’m kicking that off with a week-long series called “CBC Signage of the Apocalypse.” Should be good fun. Thanks for reading!
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-22-2007 | 11:07 PM
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So, I finally found some answers on the east end stink problem, and the news is not good. It would seem that the smell in Leslieville is indeed sewage, and it’s not accidental - it’s institutional, and it’s here to stay, for a while.
The issue came up at a meeting of the South Riverdale Community Health Centre last night, where the problem was on the agenda and discussed. Here’s what they had to say:
Item 4. Sewage Odours MOE
We have had many complaints starting on Friday and through the weekend about sewage smells. The City has $220 million allocated for odour controls over the next 10 years. They have a plan but it will take time. The problem seems to be that they can’t get rid of the sludge fast enough. Historically it went to farms and landfill. Michigan is now closed and fall is better for spreading on farms. Then there were consecutive Canadian and American holidays where trucks weren’t operating. We are looking at issuing an order to get the city to deal with the sludge. They know there’s a problem.
The good news is that the City no longer burns the sludge and the new pelletizer should be operating for the first time ever this week to replace some of the trucking. It is a facility that dewaters and dries the sludge for use as fertilizer pellets. Comment: The City need to get its act together, they produce 10 trucks and ship 6. They should belooking at mine tailings and tree plantations not just agricultural land application.
Great… so now we’re going from stockpiling sewage sludge to stockpiling sewage pellets. And no answer to why it suddenly smells here but not in the Beach.
It’s just what this up-and-coming neighbourhood needs, you know. Every week I read articles in the major papers about the great new shops and coffee shops and restaurants opening up in Leslieville, such as neighbourhood cornerstone Joy Bistro’s new B-side outdoor patio/lounge. Nothing brings in the customers like the smell of dried sewage sludge pellets.
And of course I was speaking to a colleague about how we had both finally made an effort to go green, opening windows instead of using the air conditioning (she, again with more gumption, went so far as to buy a bunch of window fans for the purpose.) Now it’s back to shut windows and AC for the forseeable future. Again, just what Toronto needs.
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-20-2007 | 10:07 PM
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For the past few days, my Leslieville neighbourhood in Toronto’s east end has been stinking to high heaven.
It’s a familiar sewage smell that until recently was sometimes associated with the otherwise posh Beach area. The culprit: the Ashbridges Bay Treatment Plant, said to be the largest secondary wastewater treatment plant in Canada. It has an odour problem, and (unlike a few guys I know) it admits it.
Now, Beach residents pay too much property tax to put up with nasty odours, so there’s been a plan in place for several years to contain and scrub away the stink. I’m not sure how you scrub stink away - bathe it in tomato juice? - and I’m not sure I want to know. (Read this .pdf or this one if you really care.)
Anyhow, I’m not sure what the status of that work is - the plan was completed five years ago, and presented (again) two years ago, but there’s no update on the City’s website since then. However, my family was down in the neighbourhood yesterday (letting our lowlife children play on the expensive playground equipment while nobody was looking) and it smelled just fine.
But now OUR neighbourhood smells - and we’re a few miles further away from the treatment plant!
My wife, seldom one for conspiracy theories, is convinced that the “treatment” plan consists of just piping the stench to less well-to-do neighbourhoods to the west.
Now, none of the neighbours had mentioned it, and there’s nothing in the papers or on the internet - not even the blogosphere. At first I thought we were going crazy, but then I got an e-mail from a CBC colleague who lives near us:
Have you noticed the vile sewage smell wafting off the (I assume) treatement plant? I’ve lived here for eight years and have NEVER noticed it this bad. The other day I could smell it clear to Broadview.
And no, we’re not crazy: her office said that have received about a dozen calls today and they are looking into the matter and have already contacted the ministry of environment.
So, we’re not imagining things. Something’s broken, and it stinks.
Beaches, come get your odour. Not in our backyard! We have bad smells of our own!
(There’s quite an olfactory battle going on in my block already… we’re equidistant between the lovely wafts coming from Weston bread factory, and the place the City parks its garbage trucks.)
So, what does your neighbourhood smell like?
Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 07-17-2007 | 02:07 PM
Posted in: Toronto | Rants | Comments (2)
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