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Thursday, May 29th, 2003: After catching wind of America's Most Talented Senior, I was all set to write about the vacuum of original ideas in Hollywood, but last night's Daily Show beat me to it... Damn their eyes!

I have to admit, though, that I am looking forward to the return of The Amazing Race on the tube tonight -- obnoxious American tourists are much easier to take on TV than they are in person!

Monday, May 25th, 2003: Just came back from the launch of Bike Week at Toronto's City Hall. Alls I had to do to get a free T-shirt and pancake breakfast was cycle up to the intersection of Yonge & Bloor Streets, then back down to City Hall. Easy, right?

I had no trouble meeting up with an inbound group from the west end of the city. In fact, they were plodding along so slowly that I couldn't help passing them! At the Yonge & Bloor checkpoint there were more cyclists, even a police escort, but no free T-shirts. I really didn't like the look of these people -- miserable old hippies suffocating under many layers of polar fleece, and obnoxious new age parents dragging their screeching babies behind them in rolling nylon coffins -- so decided to cut to the front of the pack by heading downtown on a parallel street. I swear I wasn't racing, but I easily got to City Hall a full twenty minutes before any of them.

I joined the small lineup for breakfast, but as the syrup was being poured over my spelt pancakes the organizer rushed over and pleaded with us not to eat, but to wait for the commuters. One of the helpful volunteer servers pointed out the food already on my plate, and access to the free grub was cut off for everyone behind me.

After a pleasant and healthy nosh I began sniffing around for a T-shirt. I caught this dude stacking a couple of boxes of them in a corner; I waited until he was done and coming towards me, then made a polite inquiry, answered by: "Uh, I really don't know anything about that. You'll have to ask the organizer..."

Well I couldn't, because at that exact moment he was on stage, excitedly yelling "They're here! They're here!", and honestly looking like he was going to soil himself. From behind me, I suddenly heard the shing shing of a hundred bicycle bells, and turned to see a herd of sweaty, bearded commuters coming right at me. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the utter fucking gayness of the whole affair, and got the hell out.

(Please note that the preceding comments are in no way meant as a slight to our gay community or its members. I have and continue to be a proud supporter, and have reclaimed the hateful terminology in today's entry for a better, more descriptive use...)

Wednesday, May 21st, 2003: Suicide bombers looking for a worthy target might want to consider Three Dog Bakery, a gourmet bakery for dogs, and the most shameful example of western decadence I've found to date...
Friday, May 16th, 2003: Last night I saw a terrifying vision of the fate awaiting me as an aging performer...

It was at Massey Hall, at a concert celebrating the 50th anniversary of a legendary jazz concert. After a set of old bebop standards brilliantly arranged by band leader Herbie Hancock, the one surviving member of the original concert was introduced, aging drummer Max Roach.

The first mistake was not bringing him out in a wheelchair. It took forever for the poor guy to get to his hi-hat cymbal at centre stage, and things got even more embarrassing for him once he sat down behind it. He mumbled an introduction to a "piece" that consisted mainly of quarter notes and dropped drumsticks. Even worse, he was in constant danger of falling off his stool, and needed a roadie to tap on his back when he leaned back too far, which was far too often. I scribbled this note on my Palm to show to my friends at about the ten-minute mark.

When Dr. Roach finally stopped he was met with polite applause, and then he kept going! This went on for another twenty minutes, but seemed much longer. The band finally came to his rescue, playing "Salt Peanuts" as a tribute. But by this time someone had taken Max's cymbal away, so he was left sitting on stage without anything to do, looking very much like a sad old man who didn't really know where he was. Yikes.

Monday, May 12, 2003: A little cross-website promotion today: If you find yourself in the windy city this evening, do stop by the Chicago Cultural Center, 77 East Randolph Street at around 7pm so you can the winning films from last week's Second Cine Awards. It's part of this year's Chicago Improv Festival, don'tcha know...
Saturday, May 3rd, 2003:
Thanks to all who have expressed their sympathy for my father's passing. Just when I thought I could move on, at least for a day or two, I found a printout that he did of my very first website -- I think the counter read 88!

So for that, I pay tribute with this semi-permanent cut and pasted obituary that my brothers and I worked on...

M.D., M.Sc., F.R.C.S.E., F.R.C.S. (C), D.Sc., F.A.C.S.

It is with great sadness that we announce the peaceful death of Dr. Donald John Currie of Toronto at his home on Sunday, April 27th, 2003, due to complications arising from cancer. Dr. Currie was a devoted husband to Hélène; a loyal brother to Douglas, Patricia (deceased) and Peggy; a wonderful father to Christopher and his wife Nora, Thomas and Andrew; and a playful grandfather to Caroline, Alexandra and William.

Dr. Currie made an immense contribution to the lives of many patients and to the education of many surgeons during his long career. From 1966 to 1988 he was Chief of General Surgery and Assistant Surgeon-in-Chief of St Michael's Hospital in Toronto. From 1966 he was an Associate Professor of Surgery at the University of Toronto. He was an Examiner and then Chairman of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons as well as an Examiner for the Medical Council of Canada and the Association of General Surgeons, Canada, for more than 15 years.

Dr. Currie co-authored two pioneering texts that developed the field of medical photography. 'Photography in Medicine' and 'Photographic Illustration For Medical Writing' were the first comprehensive books written that applied the art of photography to the science and practice of medicine. He is also the author of 'Abdominal Pain' and a contributor to some 54 original medical research papers.

His retirement years were filled with educating his grandchildren, researching his family tree from its early Scottish roots and watercolour painting. Proceeds from annual exhibits of his paintings were always happily donated to St Michael's Hospital.

He will be forever remembered by those whose lives he touched.

Family, friends and colleagues are invited to a funeral service at 10 a.m. on Thursday, May 1st, 2003 at St Clement's Anglican Church, 59 Briar Hill Avenue, Toronto.

A visitation will also be held from 5-8 p.m. on Wednesday, April 30th at the Murray & Newbigging Funeral Home, 733 Mount Pleasant, Toronto.

In lieu of flowers, a donation to St Michael's Hospital, Toronto, or the Heart and Stroke Foundation would be greatly appreciated by the family.