I wrote Winterizing Chris to give you an idea of Life In The Frozen North.
I had a conversation the other night with a friend. All my friends are intelligent. This friend is peaceful, not a lover of guns or violence. We discussed the Toronto Police and their tendency to shoot mentally ill people who are wandering Toronto’s streets.
I maintain that there is no need for anyone in Toronto city to be in possession of a gun.
Regarding the Sammy Yatin shooting my friend (the gun-hating pacifist) said “They could/should have shot him in the leg; there was no need to kill him”.
Note this well. Someone who would not think about harming any living animal, and certainly would not shoot a human, and abhors the shooting (or bombing or ...) of humans says:-
“They could/should have shot him in the leg.”
Because Toronto Police are armed with guns, my friend suggests that they shoot people. In the leg, to be sure, but that they shoot people.
How does the human mind rationally abhor the use of guns and yet emit a thought that shooting someone in the leg is a recommended action?
Largely because the Toronto Police are permitted to tote guns, and since they have a gun, well, it makes sense to use them to shoot in the leg, rather than in the throat, heart and spine (as in the Forcillo shooting of Sammy Yatin).
I note in passing that for all that I hate this sort of action, Forcillo proved his prowess by getting each one of the primary areas for disabling a person – the heart, the throat, and the spine.
This sounds as if Forcillo practices shooting a lot.
This suggests the possibility that Forcillo has guns available when off duty and spends a fair amount of time practicing shooting at models of human torsos.
A recent column by Heather Mallick on the February Blues (or “February Blahs” as some would have it) brought back memories.
A dozen or so years ago I went on a one-week package trip to Cuba with a friend. The price was right (I was broke and so she offered to pay) but we were in a compound that consisted of three American-style hotels with armed guards to stop the locals wandering around the area.
I managed to start some extremely simple chats with gardeners, but not so much with the dining-room wait staff whose main function was to act as tarted-up bus-boys.
We served ourselves from a large buffet, and my lasting memory of each of the three daily meals was eggs-with-that, great steaming heaps of scrambled eggs.
I am only now, twelve years later, getting around to cooking and eating omelette again.