Public speaking makes me jittery and clammy

 

When you’re The Toronto Star’s Fixer, public speaking is part of the job.

But there is no fixing the apprehension I feel whenever I speak to a group of people.

I break out in a sweat at almost every time, a clammy dampness under my arms and sheen on my forehead that every member of the audience is keenly aware of.

Or so it seems, even if it isn’t quite true.

The Star has what it calls a Speakers Bureau, which takes requests from service clubs, community groups, school classes and just about anyone who asks for someone from the paper to talk to their group.

Star staffers are not required to do it, but with a column that’s as interactive as mine, requests for me to speak inevitably roll in, and I feel it’s my duty.

I spoke today to the Guildwood Probus club, which resulted in the usual case of jitters before I began.

When I first look at those people, waiting expectantly for me to regale them, I always wonder who in their right mind could possibly be interested in my opinions.

I once spoke to a service club mostly made up of retired men, after a breakfast of bacon and eggs. Half of them were nodding off five minutes after I started.

Another time I was asked to speak to a Grade Two class in Pickering. They had not the slightest idea of what a newspaper is, and didn’t care.

It was the toughest crowd I’ve ever faced.

But every time I finish, people come up to me and say the enjoyed it, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t just being nice.

I usually end up talking about local politics at some point, and my time as a reporter in the Star’s city hall bureau, which always perks them up.

And by the time I move on to Mayor Rob Ford, whom I knew well when he was a city councillor, I have their undivided attention.

The sweating stops and the fun starts. Everybody wants to talk about the mayor.

It’s one more reason why I am a fan of Ford and consider him the Big Bonus.

By the time I’m done, I’m feeling pretty good about the experience.

Until the few minutes before the next one

    

         

     

 

  

  

 

   

    

               

 

 

 

 

 

                  

Police flag down The Fixer over blog on distracted driving by cop

 It’s as official as a speeding ticket: I am a “douchebag” for writing about an officer whose cruiser was going too fast and wandering into another traffic lane while he talked on the phone.

Last Thursday I blogged about driving for 10 minutes behind a Toronto police cruiser that was driven erratically by an officer who was talking on the phone and clearly distracted.

I made the point that if he was following me, I’d have been pulled over and issued a ticket for distracted driving – a minimum fine of $155 – and that it’s annoying to watch a cop endanger other drivers when he obviously was not on his way to an emergency.

Several people posted comments to the blog, saying police are exempt from the law that bans driving and talking on the phone, which I did not know when I wrote it.

But I know distracted driving when I see it, and I know that if anyone else was driving like the cop was, they’d be in trouble with the police.

The rules may exempt the driver, but they do not excuse his distracted driving.

Three points here: My blog showed no disrespect for police; He could have pulled over to make (or take) the call(s); Citizens rightly expects a higher standard of behaviour from police than the general public.

A reader sent me a link to a police website called BlueLine.ca, where my blog was posted on a chat forum that allows members to comment on it.

Here’s a sampling:

“Someone should teach “The Fixer” that police in Ontario are exempt in the course of their duties. Why does this douchbaggery never end with the Star?”

“Because it’s the Red Star,” said No 20 Year Medal. “Super Sleuth Reporter Boy is obviously familiar enough with the Highway Traffic Act regarding hand held devices to quote the fine structure, so one would think he’s also familiar (with the exemption for police), a fact he’s conveniently glossed over in order to meet the mandate of pandering to the morally outraged, indignant, wailing, hand-wringing lefties that read this rag.

“I wouldn’t wipe my ass with this paper.”

 Punisher-One said “What a douche. I wouldn’t read the Toronto Star if they paid me.”

“Why let the facts get in the way of reporting?” asked Gotchya.

But here’s why I still have faith in and respect for our police.

“I think in this case (cell phone use while driving), we’re our own worst enemy,” said Tinman.

“Yes, I suppose technically any time you’re driving a police vehicle while working meets the definition, but why poke the bear?

“If your traffic unit would jam Joe citizen for taking that call from his wife while he’s driving to work, does it look any better for us to do the same in a marked car?

“We take enough heat on other things; this one is so easy to make it a non-issue with just a little thought.”

Thanks, Tinman. Guys like you are why I will always hold police in high regard, no matter what some of them say about me and my paper.

 

     

 

 

 

Why are drivers so angry when they won the war on Jarvis St. cycling lanes?

 It seems that it’s not enough for drivers to have the vehicle lane returned to them on Jarvis St.

Many want to grind their boot into the faces of cyclists who were forced to give up the bike lanes, which are being removed from Jarvis this week, judging by comments posted to The Star’s online story about it.

Several protestors obstructed the crew erasing the lines, which caused the work to be put off for a day, while police handled them gently and didn’t charge them.

But the cops made it clear they won’t put up with more protests that obstruct erasure of the bike lanes, or traffic, and will forcibly remove them if necessary.

Bottom line? Drivers win. Cyclists lose, in a landslide.

So it’s not surprising that some riders are feeling militant, and showed it by disrupting restoration of the fifth traffic lane.

They moved on after they made their point, but comment posted on thestar.com by fist-pumping drivers provides insight into the acrimonious relationship between so many of them and the cycling community.

Reader Joe Bell characterized it as “Motorized Vehicles 1, Street Lice 0,” and said that “the average cyclist today is a quasi-suicidal delusional who believes cars are evil…”

A reader named “haterz” said “real simple solution…no bikes on the road allowed. The cyclists will stop getting in everyone’s way and causing so much traffic.”

Okay, so bikes are the reason why there is so much traffic in Toronto. I’m too dumb to figure that out.

The haters love to get in their digs at former mayor David Miller, who is responsible for everything they don’t like, including a reader who said, “In your face David Miller! Next, please get rid of all the bike lanes on College St.”

Steve YYZ says drivers should “take back our roads, curb to curb. From this moment forward I will no longer feel the slightest guilt about blocking bike lanes (or) otherwise impeding any of Toronto’s cyclists.”

Did you ever?

Look, I get just about everywhere by driving, and resent unnecessary holdups as much as anyone. But I try to see the bigger picture: Cycling lanes that were in place for several years, and didn’t slow me down much, if at all, were taken away.

It’s the sort of thing that results in protest.

If they come back and hold up traffic again, maybe Steve YYZ or Haterz (notice how real tough guys hide behind pseudonyms?) will squash them like lice in their SUVs.

They’ve got it coming, eh Steve?

 

 

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Help! Obnoxious kitten is ruining everything

Nothing could possibly cause me more grief than our black-and-white kitten, which is into everything and will not settle down at night.

We have the misfortune of living with three cats in our home. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Two of them – Ethel and Lucy – are elderly and not that much trouble. They mostly sleep when they are not demanding food, attention and petting.

But young Tuna acts as if her only purpose is to bug me and interfere in everything I do.

You’re probably wondering about her name. When she and her brother Daisy adopted us as tiny babies at our cottage, they were starving.

Daisy - named for the wild flower he kept playing with - scampered off. I opened a can of tuna for the one that hung around and she ate the whole damn thing, an amount as big as her.

I should have known then that she was trouble.

Actually, I did. I suggested leaving them in the country. My wife tricked me into believing she’d take them to a vet clinic, where they’d be put up for adoption.

You know where that went.

Daisy later got hit by a car. My wife cried for two weeks, so much that she was dehydrated.

Since then, she doesn’t like Tuna to go outside without supervision. And that’s a big problem.

At night, when everyone else is winding down, Tuna is ramping up. Jumping up is more like it.

She incessantly jumps up and down and up and down and up and down from the window sills, including the one in our bedroom, as if something big is going on outside.

It keeps me awake, so I close the bedroom door, but Tuna scratches and scratches until we let her in.

Then, up and down and up and down.

So I put her in the extra bedroom and close the door. And she scratches and scratches until she tires of it – long after us - and finally falls asleep.

She is at her vexing worst when it’s time to change the sheets.

While I’m wrestling the fitted bottom sheet over the mattress, Tuna gets under it and burrows. Then the vile purring starts.

When I flip the top sheet into the air to spread it across the bed, she lunges at it and tries to wrap herself in it.

Her sharp talons caused a three-cornered tear in the wonderfully soft old sheet that I was putting on. I almost cried.

Why is it that cats take such malicious pleasure in interfering in the making of beds? Other people have told me of similar problems.

As I write this, my bony butt is perched on the edge of my chair, while Tuna curls around my back and snoozes, resting up for another night of domestic terrorism.

When I'm trying to work, she pushes me out of my chair.

I’d put her up for adoption right now, but who’d take her?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Driving and talking on the phone okay for police, but not the public

 There are two sets of rules – one for drivers and another that allows police to do things for which they’d bust the rest of us.

I was driving west on Upper Gerrard St. about 1.30 p.m. Thursday when I pulled up behind a Toronto Police cruiser stopped at a traffic signal at Victoria Park Ave.

The light turned green and away we went, with me behind the cruiser. I soon noticed it was weaving a bit and going faster than traffic in the lane beside it.

I stopped again behind the cruiser at Gerrard and Main, but this time, I was wondering about the erratic driving, so I looked hard at the exterior mirror attached to the door on the driver’s side.

I could see in the mirror that the cop’s left hand was holding something up to his ear, and his mouth was moving. There was no one else in the car with him. It was clear that he was talking on his cell phone.

For the record, it was cruiser 5103, with Ontario license plate AYES 033.

We continued along towards Woodbine Ave., with me in the curb lane behind the cruiser, which hit speeds well above the 40 k/ph limit and continued to wander across the line between the curb and inner lanes.

He got into the left-turn to go south on Woodbine - the same direction I was going – and continued to hyold the phone to his ear through the turn and all the way down to Queen St., speeding up and slowing down for no apparent reason.

The officer finally ended the call south of Queen, where Woodbine curves to the west and become Lake Shore Blvd. I could see that he was no longer holding the phone to his ear. But he was on it again as soon as we got past Coxwell, which had me thinking he started dialing someone else as soon as he was done the first call.

We parted company at the on-ramp to the westbound Gardiner, where he veered right and stayed on Lake Shore, talking all the time and steering with one hand.

I’m no cop, but if I was, and the car in front of me was not a cruiser, I would have pulled the driver over and written him a ticket for distracted driving, which carries a fine that can range from $155 to $500.

I was tempted to try to get alongside of him and wag my finger, but I would have had to go at least 80 k/ph on the Lake Shore. I figured I’d be busted by an officer fishing for speeders with a radar gun. It’s happened to me before.

Which is why it is so annoying to watch a cop flagrantly ignore the rules he is sworn to enforce.

I know what he’d do if it was the other way around.

          

 

 

   

               

 

 

 

 

 

                  

 

    

 

 

  

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It is too easy to catch a computer virus

Watch out for an email that says someone has filed a complaint about you with the Better Business Bureau. It’ll infect your computer.

An email dropped in my inbox at The Star just after 4 p.m. Tuesday that said it was from the Better Business Bureau, and that it has “filed the above mentioned complaint from one of your customers in respect of their business relations with you.

“The details of the consumer’s concerns are contained in enclosed document. Please give attention to this issue and inform us about your opinion as soon as possible.

“We kindly ask you to open the COMPLAINT REPORT (attached to this email) to reply on this complaint.

“We are looking forward to your prompt response.”

I smelled a rat even before I got to the bottom of the email, where it listed the BBB address as 3033 Wilson Blvd., Arlington Virginia.

Whatever could the Arlington BBB want with me, when I don’t run a business? Even if I did, it wouldn’t be anywhere near the Arlington jurisdiction.

And the wording was awkward; it sounded like it was written by someone who’s English isn’t all that good.

The email also showed a phone number – 1-703-276-0100 – so I called it, thinking the real number may have been used to add legitimacy.

Sure enough, a voice message said that anyone who received an email from the Arlington BBB about a complaint against them should not open it and delete it right away, because it is a phishing scam that could infect your computer.

It confirmed my suspicions that it was intended to install malware in my computer, which happened to me earlier this year. It completely locked up my computer and kept insisting that I use a credit card to buy and download debugging software.

I paid someone else to get rid of it, but I have been wary of emails that don’t quite add up ever since.

You should be, too.

  

   

     

 

 

 

 

 

                  

 

    

 

 

  

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Off-leash proposal for all city parks a bad idea

City Councillor Denzil Minnan-Wong is usually doggone smart, but he’s barking up the wrong tree with his proposal to allow dogs to run free at night in all city parks.

Minnan-Wong floated a plan last week to make every city park a leash-free area between 9 p.m. and 9 a.m., saying most parks are empty at night, and that it would end the need for dog owners to travel further to off-leash dog enclosures in other parks.

Another favorable argument is that it would legitimize what some dogs owners do at night, which is to let their dog run free in their local park.

Those are valid points, but I think it will make it even easier for dog owners to abdicate from the icky business of picking up after their pooch.

An admission here: I do not own a dog, mainly because I am revolted by the idea of picking up its feces (hot and fresh!) in a plastic bag.

No matter how many dog owners indignantly reply that they pick up after their charge, a lot of them don’t, and the evidence is all around us.

I live next to a huge schoolyard that also serves as our neighbourhood park and is used as a dog walking area. I have often seen, uh, evidence that people aren’t picking up after their dogs.

Worse, there is someone who bags up the mess, and then drops the knotted bags at the entrance to the schoolyard, instead of using one of the trash cans on the school property or taking it home.

It’s been going on for years. I have always wondered why the person bothers to package it, only to drop the bundle on the ground, and would like to ask them why, if I ever get the chance.

I have long suspected that the culprit picks it up because there's someone else around, who might see them walk away from it. But when  no one is looking, the package is dropped.

I think a lot more of this sh.. will go on if dogs have the run of the parks after dark.

If they are off-leash and bounding into the darkness, they are more likely to do their business out of sight from their owner. Even if the boss sees where the dog squatted, some will be tempted to not see it, if you know what I mean.

There’s enough dog doo around now, without creating a situation where it’ll only get worse.

         

   

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

                  

 

    

Jailers should be jailed for the torture of Ashley Smith

To watch the video released this week of the torture and humiliation of Ashley Smith by federal corrections staff is to witness horrifying, government-sanctioned evil.

No wonder Correctional Service Canada fought for years to block release of the video, and is desperate to limit the scope of an inquest to the week before her death, instead of the 11 months she was in custody.

She died in 2007, at age 19, by choking herself with a strip of cloth while guards, who were instructed not to intervene, stood at the door to her cell and placidly watched the life drain out of her.

The Star has been running stories about Smith and the battle to keep the videos secret for months, but I didn’t pay much attention until the film was posted on thestar.com.

It left me sputtering, sickened and furious. I don’t know how else to describe it.

My friend and colleague Rosie DiManno covered it off much better than I ever could in her column today, so I won’t go into the litany of abuse. I urge you to read Rosie’s column and watch the video.

It is terribly upsetting and will make you want to turn away, or even weep, but it must be seen to understand the tactics used in federal prisons to bring troublesome prisoners to heel.

Three points jump out at me:

1. No video was released of Smith doing anything that would justify such treatment. If they had it, you can bet it would have been made public.
2. The repeated injections of heavy, anti-psychotic drugs intended to pacify her – five in a seven-hour period, on one occasion – is clearly illegal. Somebody should be made to pay. And the posse of corrections staff in gas masks and riot gear that administered it remind me of stories about alien abductions. It looks eerily similar to accounts of big-eyed greys that abduct humans, induce paralysis and huddle around the victim on a gurney while an implant is forced up the person’s nose at the end of a needle.
3. What does Vic Toews, the towering pillar of virtue who’s the federal minister responsible for corrections, have to say about it? Dare he defend it, as he has with other indefensible public safety measures? If he can’t say what the rest of us feel after seeing the video, he should quit right now.

Anyone who’s a parent and had a troubled teen that ended up in the corrections system would be scared to death that their child could potentially be treated like Smith.

That should be enough to create a groundswell of outrage over a government institution that apparently condones such treatment.