GREAT 'GRANDPAS' LET IT RIDE

About 15 minutes into my wait to fork over property taxes at City Hall on Friday, two women behind me are ranting about the increased digits soon to divorce their bank account. Hasta la vista, savings!
Plan A, they reason, is solely to blame for this agonizing atrocity. It is, they insist, the mother of all indecent taxes, the one civic expenditure that broke the proverbial camel’s back.
Curious, I asked the louder one if she had visited the new facilities. She quickly shot back: “Why would I? Didn’t want them and we certainly can’t afford them.”
Sort of mentioned I was spending the night at a concert, inside the new arena, where Canadian Music Hall of Fame icons Randy Bachman and Burton Cummings were the main act.
“Those grandpas?,” she mocked. “What else do you do for excitement on Fridays, stay home and read?”
Ecstatic there was no chance I’d be sitting next to this mother of all downers later in the evening, I returned to minding my own business and waiting to have my pockets picked by the busy city clerks.
What I should tell the two women, however, is they missed one spectacular show.
While Bachman, 65, and Cummings, 61, had the crowd fully engaged at “Hello,” their splendid set had 60-something-year-old women pumping their fists in the air to Let It Ride or swooning to the timeless ballad These Eyes. Priceless stuff.
The entire evening was like a magical jukebox. Plunk in a quarter and for the next two hours you heard the mega-hits from BTO, The Guess Who, Bachman’s and Cummings’ solo careers, the tunes you likely danced to, drove to, barbecued to, partied to, or made the van rock to (wink, wink!).
The fact these Canadian legends shared top spot in the charts with the Beatles in their heyday, before iTunes, 24/7 music channels or the Internet, really says something about their mass appeal.
With apologies to the one-hit wonders and Idol wannabes, these two Western
Canadian seniors represent the real deal, the consummate showmen who still understand the concept of giving people their money’s worth and leave them craving for more.
They didn’t drop F-bombs, they didn’t use pyrotechnics, gimmicks or nearly naked dancers (hello Britney!). They just played. And the standing ovations from song No. 3 onward Friday proves the blue-collar formula still works.
Cummings can still hit all the notes and he can still work a room with his charm. He doesn’t need to lip synch to recorded tracks.
Bachman can still play a mean guitar, albeit his gut-crunching sound of the BTO days has mellowed, perhaps out of respect for his many fans now wearing hearing aids, or plugs!
Still, when he strikes the first few chords of American Woman, Takin’ Care of Business or Rollin’ Down the Highway, the smiles appear on faces as if
people’s memories are being refreshed of where and when they first heard the tunes.
Bachman and Cummings gave props to Winnipeg, the Prairies, our soldiers, our flag, the West and the Abbotsford crowd for still spending money to see them.
It was great (and rare) to attend a concert and not go home smelling like Tim Felger’s favourite plant. Or deal with hearing loss for days after.
And it was really inspiring to see two “grandpas” proudly sing You Ain’t See Nothin’ Yet like they were just starting out.
And it was fun hearing the crowd sing back the encore lyrics to the super seniors who made this particular Friday night extra special, taxes be damned.

Taken from http://myextratwobits.blogspot.com/

NO ELATION IN SNAFU NATION!

There are only 21 shopping days before Christmas, 70 before the opening ceremonies of the 2010 Olympics, 88 before they’re over, six-plus months before the next Tax Freedom Day and seven months before the HST rolls into B.C.
Speaking of mind-numbing numbers, there will not be 13 months in the new Saskatchewan calendar. And Swing A3 – anytime, anywhere, anyplace – will likely not be the name of Tiger Woods’ next Xbox golf game.
Speaking of green-keepers, Prime Minister Stephen Harper announced this week the Conservatives would chip in at least $20 million to restore Toronto’s Maple Leaf Gardens. Premier Gordon Campbell has agreed to fork over at least $458 million for a retractable roof at B.C. Place Stadium. And Abbotsford city council, which didn’t ask for a dime from either spend-happy leader to help fund our $130-million Plan A, is holding bake sales and gas tax meetings to make ends meet. Go figure!
Speaking of pet projects gone wild, the City of Vancouver officials – also holding bake sales to make ends meet – will close Stanley Park’s children’s farmyard to save money, meaning the only exposure to snakes and swine the kids will have while growing up are those wasting tax dollars.
And speaking of recycling, we now have Rafe Mair, Bill Vander Zalm and Moe Sihota telling us how they think the province should be managed. Crikey! Run Forrest, run!
Anyways, this somehow brings us to my pre-Christmas quiz, designed to give you something to think about before spending those holly jolly hours with in-laws, outlaws and extra weird family members. So, ho, ho, ho, here we go:
* You’re a little short of cash today, having bet the proverbial farm on a Saskatchewan Grey Cup victory. You believed the highly favoured Montreal Alouettes were not ready for Sunday’s big game because:
a.) Players spent all week arguing what Go Rogue means while in the shower.
b.) Players spent all week learning lyrics to Blue Rodeo tunes.
c.) Players seemed depressed about Oprah’s departure.
* Mark Taylor, the City of Abbotsford’s general manager of parks and recreation, says it will take a much better marketing effort by his crew to attract more folks west of here to fill arena seats for hockey, concerts and other events. The marketing slogan that might not fly here is:
a.) Hey hey, the gangs are really all here.
b.) Our new gas tax will make your drive here much smoother.
c.) On time, on budget – but our current debt sucks more than New Moon’s vampires.
* If you were to sum up the past year in a song it would likely be:
a.) I Bought The Shoes That Just Walked Out On Me.
b.) If Money Talks, It Ain’t On Speaking Terms With Me.
c.) I’m The Only Hell Mama Ever Raised.
* High-profile sex scandals involving David Letterman, Bill Clinton, ex-Gov. Eliot Spitzer and several U.S. politicos from the so-called Family Values Party, have made it clear you aren’t a major player. Besides not being rich, influential, powerful or good looking, your other minor problem may be the weak pick-up lines you’re using. The first line you’d delete from now on is:
a.) “Hey baby, I didn’t know that angels could fly so low!”
b.) “I’m a love pirate and I’m here for your booty. Arrrggghhh!”
c.) “Hi, I’m Vern from the Valley.”
* It didn’t take long for jokes about Tiger Woods to surface after voicemails from female golf “fans” began surfacing. Your favourite is:
a.) Tiger is so rich he owns a lot of expensive cars. Now he has a hole in one.
b.) What was Tiger and his wife doing out at 2:30 a.m.? They went clubbing.
c.) Difference between a car and golf ball? Tiger can drive a ball 400 yards.

Taken from http://myextratwobits.blogspot.com/

CRUCIAL LIFE LESSONS LEARNED AT STREET LEVEL

They say you’re built upside down when your nose runs and your feet smell, so forgive me today for dipping into the “archives” while I battle the remains of a pesky flu that, like our gang problem here, refuses to go away.
Given that the Special Olympics B.C. Summer Games started last night in Abbotsford and runs all weekend, this “encore presentation” seems appropriate:
My former neighbour Kevin, once the Roberto Luongo of winter street hockey in Yorkton, Sask., would be high-fiving my folks today if his kind heart didn’t stop beating three days shy of his 16th birthday.
Later this evening, Kamloops Immigrant Services will award 19 people – including this shocked scribe – with a Community Diversity Award. If truth be told, my mother’s name, not mine, should be inscribed on that cherished certificate.
Adele Mildred Kurenoff, my awesome mom, taught me early, and often, about tolerance, goodwill, compassion and decency. (She joked that these things didn’t apply in today’s workplace.)
She also taught me to not let the ignoramuses of the world hijack my outlook or lofty dreams. And, more importantly, she forced me to play street hockey with Kevin when nobody else in our small Saskatchewan neighbourhood would.
Kevin was mentally challenged. We looked at him, as naive kids would, as being very different. And odd. And weird. We never asked him to join our hockey games, even though it was he who often got up earlier than Prairie roosters and shovelled the one patch of road to make the entire exercise possible.
Mom asked one morning why Kevin wasn’t allowed to play. I confessed nobody wanted him to join us. Visibly upset with me for going along with the “lame-brain majority,” she ordered me to change that the next time we played – “or else!”
Well, when I picked Kevin for our team, the other kids on the street mocked me big time.
“Kurenoff, are you completely nuts?” yelled the neighbourhood mouthpiece, encouraged by the others’ non-stop laughter and catty shots.
“No. We’re both nuts,” Kevin blurted back unexpectedly. “And we’re going to beat you boys bad!”
What we didn’t know until he played was that Kevin could stop lightning from getting past him. It didn’t take long to figure out that the team with Kevin playing goal usually won. Darn neighbour even got cocky about his near-perfect record. When he passed away, the church was filled with his ragtag “hockey buddies.” His foster mom thanked each of us for making a much-too-short life full of so much joy.
We all got seriously choked up when she told the funeral gathering that Kevin thought “we were all pretty odd, lousy goal-scorers, but the nicest friends in the whole wide world.”
When my first editor – Dick DeRyk of Yorkton This Week – molded me into a weekly columnist, he explained that people sitting behind a keyboard have a lot of power and responsibility. Used incorrectly or dishonestly, our words could become weapons of mass destruction. Just like closed or narrow minds.
My mother encouraged me to use this special privilege to make people smile, to make them think and eventually make them tolerate everyone around them who may be different. Like Kevin.
My mom continues to encourage these columns. Allow me to offer loving thanks to her for removing my blinders and, of
course, a big high-five in the sky to the best street hockey goalie I ever knew.
Rest in peace, Kevin. This award’s for you buddy.

Gord Kurenoff is editor of the Abbotsford-Mission Times. He was a nominee last fall for an Abbotsford Diversity Award. To comment, e-mail letters@abbotsfordtimes.com.

Taken from http://myextratwobits.blogspot.com/

GIVING 'TIL IT HURTS REAL BAD!

Once upon a time, when Maclean’s was a must-read for curious Canadians and fans of Allan Fotheringham, editors of that mind-provoking magazine conducted a fascinating study.
They invited 12 “average” taxpayers from all corners of this diverse country to their Toronto digs to play finance minister for a weekend.
Faster than you can say “Kayne West, jerk of the year,” these budget-minded peeps turned nasty after colleagues criticized their spending priorities or spending cuts.
One person, who didn’t have kids, recommended cuts to an education system he didn’t use. A fit female suggested cuts to health care and more incentives to stay in shape, while another aimed to pare down Canada’s military and law enforcement agencies. It didn’t take long before this group acted like tennis hotheads John McEnroe and Serena Williams at their ballistic best.
It also emphasized what we already knew – money can’t buy happiness, but then neither can no money!
Your scribe was raised in one of those “average income” households where mom mastered the art of stretching a dollar, albeit as the cost of living increased we often contemplated going to KFC to lick the other kids’ fingers.
Always thought mom would make a good finance minister, but then if she was in charge of the public purse we wouldn’t have a $2 million score clock at the Entertainment and Sports Centre, our premier wouldn’t be handing out medals to construction workers and our federal “leaders” wouldn’t be spending millions on attack ads.
You see, when our “contingency fund” ran out at home, she invented every meal you could make with Kraft Dinner and wieners.
Perhaps it’s that “average” upbringing which clouds my view of today’s spend-happy politicos. Especially considering they are spending our money.
Take the Olympics. This 2010 hype machine was supposed to generate a new breed of sports-minded youth to keep them busy and out of gangs. So, after emptying the financial cupboards to host the five-ring circus, we are now cutting sports funding and increasing user-fees for recreational facilities. That sure worked out well, didn’t it?
This was supposed to be a cash cow for the Best Place on Earth. This glorified fundraiser for the IOC was supposed to fill our coffers and make Alberta kiss our rich wallets. So what happened? Do you believe?
It’s strange how in good times our “leaders” didn’t plan too far ahead or put money away for the tougher times. Politicians at all levels were quick to take all the credit (and pay increases) for the boom, but now, of course, it’s not their fault we’re all broke. Praying for gaming revenue to right the ship is now the hope du jour.
I find it disturbing that we’re being told the HST, a local gas tax, another TransLink tax and cuts to health care, education and sports groups are “really good for us” and signs of “responsible leadership.” Who writes this claptrap? And who believes it?
Closer to home, if our civic “leaders” really didn’t anticipate having to spend many millions more to accommodate the AHL, someone should be fired for not doing due diligence. But I believe they knew the extra costs and figured you’d just pay and pay. And you will.
TransLink now wants more money because after paying themselves well to meet behind closed doors they don’t have enough to operate the system. Heck, there are just as many taxpayer muggings as SkyTrain incidents with this group.
As comedian Russell Peters says: “If this keeps up somebody is going to get spanked real bad!”
Let’s hope so. Mom is getting ornery!

Taken from http://myextratwobits.blogspot.com/