TCL Flickr Pool: Where concerts and burritos collide
Posted on November 7th, 2010 – 2 Commentsangietorres has added a photo to the pool:
angietorres has added a photo to the pool:
Right around this time of year my nose turns into a permanently open tap and shall remain that way until late May or so. The only thing that helps is warm Miso soup and ample Wasabi-based abuse.
Simple sushi joints tend to be cheaper but … c’mon … sushi on frickin’ conveyor belts?! That’s worth an extra few bob. I’ve seen a fancier place where the sushi floats around on a man-made stream on top of little boats but I bet you’d pay plenty for that little bit of theater.
Toko on Yonge Street (near Isabella), has a dual conveyor belt winding all the way through the restaurant past booths and counter seats. I’ve never seen sushi running the whole length but I swore that one day I would. Bet it’s a sight to see.
Here’s a section of the conveyor as it re-directs plates onto the return belt. Crappy cell phone video but, alas, I was too busy stuffing Salmon into my face to operate anything fancier.
Now that all the zombies have left Trinity-Bellwoods, the first wet snow has fallen briefly in warning, the squirrels in the park have grown fat, and sweaters are on almost permanent rotation, it can only mean that Halloween — gateway to the season of the setting sun — has befallen us.
Do you remember David Chen, the Chinatown grocer who kept getting ripped off by the same guy so he decided to make a citizen’s arrest? Except that the cops slapped the cuffs on David instead with bullshit charges like forcible confinement and kidnapping.
Nearly a year later, all the charges against David have been dropped.
Justice!
…continued from previous part.
I’ve been trying to understand the appeal of zombieism — it does, after all, seem to be gaining in popularity. Is it simply a fad? Once the flakes start to fall will they just slow down and freeze, or will they have enough brains to wear parkas?
…the train has now arrived at its final destination. Please be sure you have all your luggage and please allow elderly passengers to disembark first. It was a pleasure being your sauce carrier of choice today, we hope you join us on the Gravy Express again soon. Please enjoy your stay in Mayor Elect Rob Ford’s Toronto.
I’m a bit disappointed but not because I’m necessarily against anything Rob wants to do. As I’ve said, I don’t think his plan reaches out far enough. But most of what he’s proposing can’t be a bad thing. Slimming down City Hall? Sure, why not? Revoking some of the privileges that councillors get? Can’t argue with that. Pulling away from the unions? Obviously a popular idea. That’s the “gravy train” that Rob’s ridden right into the mayorship.
But here’s the thing — if he does what he says he’ll do, and can also find the other tens (hundreds?) of millions of dollars needed to keep the city from sinking, can co-operate (or backroom deal) enough with councillors to get stuff done, and manages to do it year over year, I’d say that was a great start. This is a big city and there’s lots to be done. But sure, fixing City Hall can certainly figure into that so it’s not that I’m against Rob Ford. With the way some people were talking tonight you’d think that the seven horsemen were sharpening their scythes on the corner of Bay and Queen.
And for the record, Rob’s is the only hand I shook out on the street — he was pounding the pavement with his brother Doug shortly after the Ford-Doneit-Henderson thing broke out. I suggested it would work to his favour.
Huh?
Yeah, Your Worship, you’re welcome.
The battle started ten months ago with seven contenders. By April there were twenty-six sluggers of varying degrees of viability in the ring. Then came the fisticuffs.
Some suffered, I believe, from a simple lack of exposure, which to me translates as a lack of experience. Others put up a pretty good fight but had to concede defeat. Notables include:
Adam Giambrone – Finishing his term as head of Toronto’s Transit Commission and toppled over a sex scandal in February. I didn’t lose any sleep over it. Plus, Jammers is what, like, 18? He’s got plenty of politics ahead of him if he wants to stay in the game.
Giorgio Mammoliti – Had a bit of momentum but in July decided he’d rather try to stay on as a Toronto Councillor for his current ward. No mistaking Giorgio as being anything but 100% bona fide Ai-talian, but I guess it takes more than that these days. I don’t think he even has any mob connections.
Sarah Thompson – Strangely, not yet on the list of mayoral casualties, but Sarah gets an extra star next to her name for being the feisty (previously unknown) newcomer who demonstrated she could play with the big kids. She hung in for quite a while before throwing in the towel about a month ago and joining forces with George Smitherman. She’s a self-made businesswoman and has her own magazine — I think she’ll be fine.
Rocco Rossi – The man with the million-dollar smile is also not on the drop-out list but this was only a couple of weeks ago (the paperwork to update a government website probably takes as long). Rocco was the ringleader behind John Tory’s campaign — the one other man who might’ve broken through in this selection had he chosen to run. Unfortunately, Rocco’s beaming smile and charisma didn’t carry him through and he left quietly without endorsing anyone else.
As many people expected, the race was mostly just casual mud flinging until September or so when the media got in high-gear. Then it was one debate and town hall after another, none of which I attended. To be honest, I think the websites of the top three candidates should be enough, though trying to make out the candidates hollering over each other has its charm.
When this all started I mentioned that George, “is gay and looks like a bulldog. Both, I believe, in his favour.” I still expect that he’ll probably win although I’m not convinced I’ll be ticking off his name. Some of his key promises include:
Rob has been so easy to criticize during this campaign. He’s well known for making off-colour public remarks and sticking his foot into his mouth on a regular basis. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, he’s just not very diplomatic. The beefy football coach’s campaign was managed by his brother (not dissimilar in many ways), and was unsurprisingly dotted with all manner of scandal and accusation. Still, Rob weathered the storm and he’s neck-and-neck with George; most polls agree it could easily go either way today.
Some of what Rob says he’ll do includes:
If you didn’t know Joey Pants before, you do now. If nothing else can be said about this dimunitive Deputy Mayor, he’s the most eminently qualified — he’s almost mayor now. However, and perhaps because of his height, Joe’s had to jump up and down and wave twice as hard as anyone else just to be heard.
Even though the chances of him becoming mayor are slim at this point, you gotta give the little guy credit for hanging in there; only he and George stayed on for the full ten months. Plus, everything I’ve heard about him indicates he’s genuinely a nice guy with a good head for this sort of thing. He just falls below the radar, that’s all.
Here’s what Joe promises our fair city if he’s elected:
I don’t believe in the throw-away, lesser-of-evils, vote-by-fear approach. Anyone who trudges out that old pony should quickly be reminded that a minority win is just as significant on the make up of City Hall. Or Parliament. Or whatever. We should vote for the best candidate even if they’re a long-shot.
In another four years we’ll be doing this again so that little bit of support could make the difference next time around. And it’s note-worthy to point out that City Hall isn’t just the mayor, there are 44 Councillors representing the various wards of this sprawling metropolis, and they all get a vote just like the Mayor. Plus, the Council vote is just as crucial; it’s traditionally been the Councillors that have been the biggest dicks at City Hall.
Heavens! Has it been a year already?
Yup, season’s fully turning now; a fantastic, cold, autumn fog is rolling over the evening city as I write this; leaves are half-shorn and fully gilded; sun’s setting at around 6, to me the most obvious time for evening to start; squirrel’s are getting pudgy; zombies are back on Toronto streets.
Apparently there’s enough business to have kept this place open for quite a few years:
Fer real?
Fer real.
All I can say is, when Ollie kicks the bucket, there’s no frickin’ way I’m having him violated with cotton (or whatever they use), and then having him permanently buggered in some attack pose. And any animals I’m killing I fully intend to eat; having my dinner plate bronzed might be a better idea.