A large swath of Yonge Street is in the process of being demolished to make way for sterile, corporate homogeneity. Most of the businesses along the lengthy strip didn’t leave by choice.

You might be tempted to think it was the government-imposed 100% — i.e. double — tax increase (with more planned), that drove so many businesses either out of the area or into bankruptcy but “think tanks” like the C.D. Howe Institute beg to differ; Toronto has very “competitive” property tax rates, they say, it’s just that they’re difficult to estimate because of complexity, obscurity, and lack of transparency.

You may think that taxing property “owners” twice — i.e. double — for simply living on a piece of land throughout the city would be similarly problematic but the eminent Ryerson University along with some councilors believe that the city could easily squeeze another 20% from taxpayers who have the audacity to live in a home that they “own”.

Bloody “free” market strikes again!

362 Yonge Street

Chris doesn’t pull many punches with his third-worst Toronto building, Ryerson University’s Ted Rogers School of Management. Among the building’s most admirable traits he includes the facts that it’s on a busy downtown corner, it’s above a Canadian Tire, and has a parking garage. To me, this does not a good building make. In fact, this would barely qualify as a worthy parking lot.

However, Humie’s commentary describing the building as “a dog’s breakfast” is a little unfair, only insomuch as Ryerson is known for acquiring existing locations, usually individual rooms within buildings like Chris’ other favourite, the Toronto Life Square building. What I mean is that Ryerson’s not 100% responsible for the shape of the building, though their lack of follow-up aesthetic is something we can collectively laugh at. Or weep.

No destination, no problem. The important thing is to dress properly and cover unwashed hair.

And yes, I believe that wallpaper is older than me (and I ain’t no spring chicken).

I always loved those commercials. They kind of implied that brains would taste pretty good sopped up with some chunky toasted bread and maybe a hash brown, butter, and bacon (or short pig), on the side. And f-f-f-f-f-f-Fava beans, Clarissssssssssse.

The correlation was, you do drugs, you will get a taste for human flesh. Inevitable, jerkhole.

There’s a really interesting corollary between those anti-drug campaigns, eggs sitting on tops of walls (and subsequently falling off), the falling of the walls themselves (below), the frying of the whole place (further below), and — it seems — a drug-induced stupor at City Hall that allowed the whole thing to happen. And then the egg on their faces. Thus the circle of life is complete.

It was April 16th of last year when the facade came down near Ryerson, just over the Salad King restaurant which everyone suddenly remembered with cherished memories and the inevitable adage, “…but I haven’t been there for a while.”

Recall:

I think Salad King was planning to re-open some time tragically soon — just to pour Thai hot sauce on that open wound. And that’s exactly what it’s been since it came down: just a gaping gash on Gould Street. They threw a big tarp over the rubble on the street, fenced the area off, and that’s how it sat until this week’s fire.

Okay, so I’ve been asking this question for a while now … why has this building been allowed to sit as a wreck for this long? Why cover the frickin’ rubble with a tarp?

Well, apparently the thing was a heritage building and City Hall was mulling over what to do with it. Guess the bricks in the rubble were historic as well, hence the tarp.

But while Councillors were chewing the end-of-term / beginning-of-term cud, getting tours of City Hall, cancelling snacks, etc., the thing was left unattended and this week exploded into a six-alarm blaze — didn’t know there were that many alarms!

Even when I dropped by the next day the thing was still smouldering, apparently having re-erupted earlier that morning. “Normal for a fire of this magnitude”, I was assured.

Some are thinking potentially arson, I’m thinking dangerous exposed building left to the elements. Probably electrical, caused by the recent thaw, and then enjoying a very comfortable stay in the mostly wooden, former Empress Hotel building.

In the meantime, Yonge Street is now closed along with Gould (foot traffic ‘n all), and the open sore is much more so. That can’t go on too long.

My suggestion: get Ryerson University – literally across the street – involved. I mean, let all the investigators finish up, but after that I’m sure there are plenty of classes that could benefit from having to identify historic remains to salvage, perform actual fire forensics investigations, do structural engineering studies, and so on. Maybe George Brown get get itself a piece of that sweet action too. Real-world experience, free work force who get to take those spongy livers outside for some fresh air.

Just don’t let that building go to ruin a third time, you know?

Can you believe it, dear reader? Another contributor? And this time it’s a whole gang!

The vigorous young go-getters preempted my typical introductory post; unusual, but great!

So, please allow me to go back in time a couple of days and introduce to you The Raisin Gang, a Toronto comedy troupe with connections to Ryerson University. The gang is comprised of Marissa Caldwell, Kye Fox, Mikey Kolberg, Daniel Kurland, Michael Peddle, Mary Kelly, Tom Conway, Dan Ramos and producer James Boyd.

I don’t remember exactly how I discovered The Gang (and they are 100% genuine gang), but it was laugh at first sight. When James Boyd returned my email saying he’d be interested in contributing to the blog, I was over the moon.

As with previous contributors, I don’t want to go into too much detail. The Gang have a Feature Contributor account here which means they can post, comment, etc., almost as if they own the place.

Understandably, producing video of this caliber takes a little more time so James suggested that The Gang post on a weekly basis. Or less. I know, I know, I want more too, but what can ya do?

So as I was saying yesterday about convenience, here’s a terrific example.

I was planning to do a post about urban public gardens. I know, it seems a little bent at the wrist, but I wanted to do it more in the context of the unforgiving city. Those little squares of land nestled in between caverns of glass. Had a great story ‘n everything. Then this happens:

I know it’s not war-torn Bosnia, but still, you don’t get many brick walls coming down in such a prominent location, in the middle of the day. Extremely convenient for me, if I may be frank. So I believe this proves my point. Unless someone’s suggesting I brought the wall down just to prove a point. :|

Anyhow, can I get a little personal here? I felt totally legit today – schedule ‘n all. I weaved in and out of the news crowd like it was nothing, had conversations with a few of them. Also witnessed a Ryerson student being turned back at the yellow tape. One of the camera guys joked with me with a “nice try, eh? You’re not from Ryerson, are you?” To which I replied, “Hell no.” Reply, *nod*.

That’s how it’s done. No one stopped me when I ducked under the yellow tape. Or stood on the wall. Or the electrical box. QED.

I probably don’t need to tell you what happened if you listen to local news. But if you don’t, it’s pretty straightforward. This wall came down on a street just north of Yonge-Dundas Square, so good foot traffic. Plus it’s the edge of Ryerson University. Some time early this afternoon, it slumped. And then came down. No one was hurt, so very lucky.

See? Simple. Probably the sign attached to the front from what I heard.

I had dinner at the place next door a few weeks back and I don’t recall the building bulging any. Also didn’t notice anything every other day I walked past there either. I use that corner a lot, is what I’m getting at, and can’t say I saw anything untoward.

… Continue Reading

Wednesday mornings are always a bit tenuous, aren’t they? Technically they’re at the foot of the hump, but you still have a few hours just to get there. Only then you can start the countdown, and the drinking really can’t even properly start until much later. Wednesday mornings are the stale farts of the week.

Luckily, there are always a few interesting things that I pass on my way to the next eight hours of numbing anguish – things that punctuate the doom as if to suggest that, maybe, there is hope. There’s the very real possibility that I’m simply reading too much into them, but I need all the straws I can grasp onto these days. Especially on Wednesday mornings.

On this particular mid-week sulk I trudged up behind Cam Woolley who, along with his CP24 cameraman, were making googly eyes at Maple Leaf Gardens across the street:

They were there to do a report on the deal that the Loblaw supermarket chain and Ryerson University made to finally do something with the Gardens. The place has been on ice for years, and aside from a TV show that was shot there, it really only served as cover for a late-night whiz. With a shot of cash from the feds, Ryerson’s going to make the place into an athletics building (the campus is made up mostly of acquired buildings downtown), and Loblaw’s going to stick a supermarket in there. Big shock on that one.

Despite being an atypically traitorous Canuck who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about hockey, I will once again go on record as saying that this is a travesty. As a Ryerson sports hall, the Gardens building is fine, but as a supermarket … jeez, eh? The thing was built in the style of a Depression era nuclear war bunker. It’s designed for large, rowdy crowds with boozy cognition. The building even had a bowling alley somewhere on the upper level when it was first built – during those days people loved to roll their great big balls around while watching the boys work their sticks below. Ahh, the thirties. So the building can withstand a beating, but it ain’t pretty:

That feeling of being entombed in concrete will certainly give the grocery store an ambiance. And the urine, the beery urine, that’s still embedded in the crevices of every darkened corner of the building. I wouldn’t like to have that nearby as I test melons.

But hey, maybe they’ll make it work somehow; beer carts and such. A tipple for the little ones and shopping’s a-okay again. And perhaps, once a thriftapenny always a sober jerk, as the old saying goes, so I think the idea has some merit. Why would they make up a saying like that if it was wrong or meaningless?

I kept mulling over the possibilities as I walked past the Gardens and down into Carlton Station. There was a notice bearing some bad news in the vicinity but this, dear reader, I’ll have to share another time because Wednesday’s just a little too incongruous already to toss that into the mix. There are better coping days.

I simply continued on to the ticket booth.

“Ten tokens please.”

“All out.”

“Really? I could buy less, I just need a few.”

“Really, all out. We have tickets though.”

“Paper tickets?”

“Paper tickets.”

Holy shit :D I hadn’t held a paper TTC ticket in my sweaty hand since I was in high school. They were smaller then and had a different motif, but the obvious ease with which they could be reproduced made them targets for amateur counterfeiters. Or aspiring amateur counterfeiters. And then I discovered these things’ll be valid until the beginning of next year — all the makings of a scheme! :)

Okay, Wednesday, it’s a good start. But we gotta do something about that hump, it’s just unsightly.