Just watched a raccoon punt another raccoon out of a palm tree. It’s the middle of the day. To add further insult, who I presume to be the aggressor, sauntered out and took a drink from the bowl of water I left out for the neighborhood cat. Now I can’t leave water out for the cat because I don’t want to give it raccoon germs.
I didn’t even know they had raccoons in Florida, or that they had any interest in palm trees, let alone that tree. I looked up because I heard this one soft grinding noise; there was a squirrel up there the other day taking its sweet-ass time to eat a nut, just grinding its teeth against them for an obnoxiously long time. So I thought you bastard, you’re back, only to see this poor big limp raccoon on perhaps its final vertical trajectory towards the earth.
Now I can’t find it, it fell into a bush at the bottom of the tree, but I can’t see it in there, and also don’t want to poke around in case it springs back to life like the deer from Tommy Boy.
Because three paragraphs about a potential dead raccoon murder was not enough, I would like to note I avoided this scenario about 15 years ago. We were looking for apartments in Toronto, and after saying thank you and good-bye to a pantsless stoned girl in a Tweetie Bird tank top that showed us around, we went back into the night to find a screaming raccoon clinging to the eaves as another, I can only imagine, stomped on its little baby bandit knuckles like an action movie. We all walked away.
So the only conclusion I can draw is it at some point later in life I’m going to be benefited by having witnessed raccoon manslaughter/homicide (not sure of the charges yet) and this is God preparing me.
I hope Much Music can resurrect itself. I do believe it has a place showing Canada back to itself, and for every jaded journalist who thinks protectionism is a sign of weakness and CanCon should be burned at the stake, I’ve got the memory of a little Canadian tween who moved to the U.S. at eleven and would watch MuchOnDemand religiously to feel at home. I always hoped one day I’d be a VJ and get to walk around the Chum building like Strombo and Amanda Walsh and finally find out whose hand was up Ed the Sock’s ass. I think there’s a misconception that Canadians want to be Americans, particularly Torontonians and particularly with our media. TRL was more glamorous, but I always wanted to be on a street corner with Rainbow Sun because to me it always felt weightier, more real, more of who I was. We were always a little bootleg, but we swore more and had better videos and everyone seemed like they were having more fun.
So here’s to you not dying Much Music. I hope you re-find your voice, dig yourself out of the grave with some Canadian know-how, and inspire another generation to know it’s okay to embrace who you are, even if you don’t have the prettiest face or the best production values.
It sounds like if Isabella Rossellini’s character from Blue Velvet moved to Brooklyn (West Queen West?) and got a prescription for Lexapro and then started sweetly making love to your eardrums. Then you took her to brunch and cuddled while watching Drive.
Also their singer is hot as fuck (I mean that in a respectful way) and is the only person to ever make overalls look cool.
Some fun things I have seen in Toronto the past few days:
A billboard for the new Victoria’s Secret opening in the Eaton Centre (I am so excited)
25 or so Storm Troopers exiting the Queen street car
A cyclist getting hit by an SUV
A group of Engineers dressed as race car drivers wheeling a go kart through the Bahen Centre
A hipster trying to run across College & University before the light changed, his pants fell to his ankles in the middle of the intersection and he had to hop to the other side with his green boxer briefs completely exposed.