“I went back to Ontario and my city was gone—“
Paraphrased from the Pretenders

Today was a sad day for your noble god dear reader. I got in rather late, but I still managed to snag a swift stroll along Yonge St. and look for some old familiar sites. Sam the Record Man was closed, but I can smell a going out of business sale a mile away. The easy indicator was the ‘20% off all marked prices” sign I could see through the shuttered shop doors. This combined with Toronto Trevor’s tale of the final days of the folky record store that used to exist upstairs along Yonge (It breaks my heart to think of boxes of records hauled outside like trash and labeled ‘free’) weighs heavy on me. Alas, times change and all things must pass, but to go out with such loss of dignity…the very store that provided one of the Greatest Record Finds ever, (it would seem m pals dav's immortal site is now gone as well :( In an act so gracious that it could only come from Canada, the Mr. Gin Gin album was GIVEN to my pal Dav after he inquired about the price of the unmarked album. Yes all those stories you’ve heard of ‘nice’ Canadians aren’t fairy tales, they’re true whispers of a better way. Mr. Gin Gin has livened up many an alcohol injected evening, at least for Dav and I. Wives and girlfriends don’t seem to bear the same tolerance we have for multiple repeat playings. (Mainly because we only really care about, and play, the leadoff track.) I mean the whole thing is in French, except for the accent-heavy “She’s too fat, much too fat, much too fat for me” ramblings toward the end of the opener. Ah…such high entertainment gifted to us by the Canadian people. The last time we listened to it, I was driven to such an altered state as to bite one of Dav’s limbo LPs in half. That’s the power of Mr. Gin Gin. and lots and lots of beer.

If you’re keeping score at home, all the strip clubs are still intact. Some things never go out of style :/