VANOC BLUES...and REDS...and GREENS
Yesterday, I was walking along Hornby street midday, heading in the general direction of the Hotel Vancouver.
My mother – may she rest in peace – taught me many years ago that the biggest, best hotel in town is always the best place a) for a cup of coffee, and b) for a pee. Although, pay special attention to not getting these missions confused one with the other. I highly recommend the Danieli in Venice. You just stroll right in like you’re paying 1700 euros a night for a canal view, through the mahogany and glass rotating door, past the front desk and the main lounge on the left and straight into the back hall. The bathrooms are all marble and fine towels. Make sure you smile at the concierge on the way out and mumble a deep-throated “Signore,” as you head back onto the Riva Della Schiavoni. (above)
So, I’m walking along Hornby and these two geniuses next to me are discussing the great inconvenience and apparent horror of those dirty, messy people who have been protesting the Olympic clock.
“Put a sniper up there. That’s all you have to do.”
Tops in citizenship, yep. Let’s get this guy his award.
Meanwhile…
VANOC and all its familiar faces are finding themselves on the road to Damascus. Suddenly, after spending untold millions of taxpayers’ dollars, it has come to these otherwise bright fellows that perhaps, just perhaps, they might expose their daily machinations to the great unwashed. “Transparency,” “openness, “ these have become the new watchwords. Why, the teachers and ditch diggers and latte makers might want some inkling on how their hard earned wages are actually being spent on the Big Snow Party. Imagine, the nerve!
O.K. Let’s talk about that. Let’s hunker down – in camera, of course – and figure out when and how we might open the pig pen. Being careful, of course, not to let in those protesters or any other nasties.
We now await humbly and with baited breath for their benevolence.
Meanwhile…
The Prime Minister wheels into town, and in a big public display, accompanied by the Preem, he announces scads of taxpayers’ money for reducing the emissions of greenhouse gasses. So far so good.
But, wait. An Oddity. There will be a demonstration project called “the hydrogen highway.” No, this will not be a place where addicts will suck hydrogen in replacement for their usual poison. No, this will be a place where cars can tank up on hydrogen for their new “green” cars. O.K. But here’s the oddity. The project is located…wait for it…between Vancouver and Whistler!
Vancouver and Whistler, uhuh. Any particular reason for this choice? How about Highway One between here and Hope, or twelve other locations?
Can you say, “Big Snow Party,” kids?
My mother – may she rest in peace – taught me many years ago that the biggest, best hotel in town is always the best place a) for a cup of coffee, and b) for a pee. Although, pay special attention to not getting these missions confused one with the other. I highly recommend the Danieli in Venice. You just stroll right in like you’re paying 1700 euros a night for a canal view, through the mahogany and glass rotating door, past the front desk and the main lounge on the left and straight into the back hall. The bathrooms are all marble and fine towels. Make sure you smile at the concierge on the way out and mumble a deep-throated “Signore,” as you head back onto the Riva Della Schiavoni. (above)
So, I’m walking along Hornby and these two geniuses next to me are discussing the great inconvenience and apparent horror of those dirty, messy people who have been protesting the Olympic clock.
“Put a sniper up there. That’s all you have to do.”
Tops in citizenship, yep. Let’s get this guy his award.
Meanwhile…
VANOC and all its familiar faces are finding themselves on the road to Damascus. Suddenly, after spending untold millions of taxpayers’ dollars, it has come to these otherwise bright fellows that perhaps, just perhaps, they might expose their daily machinations to the great unwashed. “Transparency,” “openness, “ these have become the new watchwords. Why, the teachers and ditch diggers and latte makers might want some inkling on how their hard earned wages are actually being spent on the Big Snow Party. Imagine, the nerve!
O.K. Let’s talk about that. Let’s hunker down – in camera, of course – and figure out when and how we might open the pig pen. Being careful, of course, not to let in those protesters or any other nasties.
We now await humbly and with baited breath for their benevolence.
Meanwhile…
The Prime Minister wheels into town, and in a big public display, accompanied by the Preem, he announces scads of taxpayers’ money for reducing the emissions of greenhouse gasses. So far so good.
But, wait. An Oddity. There will be a demonstration project called “the hydrogen highway.” No, this will not be a place where addicts will suck hydrogen in replacement for their usual poison. No, this will be a place where cars can tank up on hydrogen for their new “green” cars. O.K. But here’s the oddity. The project is located…wait for it…between Vancouver and Whistler!
Vancouver and Whistler, uhuh. Any particular reason for this choice? How about Highway One between here and Hope, or twelve other locations?
Can you say, “Big Snow Party,” kids?
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