Few things grab your attention in life more than a price increase, particularly in these so called low inflation days. There you are, going along from day to day knowing that that morning cinnamon bun costs exactly $3.14 when suddenly - WITHOUT WARNING (aside from months and months of Bill Vander Zalm mysteriously reappearing on our TV screens but you always quickly clicked away) - that bun costs $3.40. Oh, the saturated fats coursing through the veins just burble with outrage. The HST, you learn, is to blame. But death and taxes, what can you do, aside from signing a petition and recalling the government?
Armed with the knowledge that anti-HST fervour is sweeping the province, I decided to sample the righteous anger as patrons partook of their first meal that included the new tax. They were strangely philosophical about the higher price, but perhaps that's because they love the owner of the place. Eating the HST 
The G20 events that included mass arrests of demonstrators in Toronto brought out a criticism against the media that has become a commonplace these days. It centres around the idea that the demonstrators know the media will be there, so they stage events that are designed to upstage the main event - and the media plays into their hands, giving them a platform that they could not otherwise obtain. It's a good debate - about the role of demonstrators, media, police, public discourse of serious issues - and I am not going to provide the last word here. 
For decades, we've seen bicycle couriers scramble about downtown streets, weaving in and out of traffic as they speed from office to office. Though some might suggest (to put it mildly) that they put themselves and others in danger - few could quarrel with the proposition that theirs is the fastest delivery method availble to their customers. 
I put myself through college by painting houses way back in the days when a kid could earn enough money in the summer to afford both university and housing. I learned a couple of painting jokes, such as what do you say to a client who sees paint drips on their window panes? No extra charge. 
Have you ever felt the urge to release your inner Imelda Marcos. Remember her? She was the wife of the dictator of the Philippines and when he was overthrown in the 80s they discovered she had a closet filled with seven thousand shoes. It became a symbol of the excess and corruption of the Marcos rule. 
It would be hard to imagine an event whose cost could exceed eight billion dollars (according to the generally reliable Vaughn Palmer) that was held without people protesting. We live in a world of limited resources and so people can come up with all kinds of perfectly reasonable ways to spend that money that does not include the Winter Olympics. As the games neared, protests against the games escalated, and that could be expected. Now most people who support the games probably took the position that they agree to disagree with the protesters. But not one fellow I met, who decided to try to convince them not to take to the streets. 
