For followers of my blog, I will be making all future posts on my own site at curtiswalker.com.
I have imported all my previous posts there, but I will be leaving the posts at this site intact.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Friday, January 24, 2014
Lost Dog Epidemic
As I walk the streets of this snow-covered community in the bitter cold, I am noticing an epidemic of lost dog signs.
In the past, I have noticed occasional signs for a lost dog from time to time, but never anywhere close to the number that I've seen recently. Lost dogs have apparently become such a problem that there’s even a Web site at www.winnipeglostdogalert.com, where dog owners can go for help in finding their lost dogs.
I am not a dog owner, nor do I have any affinity for dogs, but I do feel badly for the dogs in question. Domesticated animals are ill-equipped to live on their own and being outside their homes in this extreme cold can effectively be a death sentence.
Seeing these signs and the desperate pleas from their owners leads me to wonder why these dogs are getting lost in the first place. Certainly, accidents do happen, but there are so many people in this city who take their dogs out and let them roam free with impunity and/or handle their dog’s call of nature by “letting the dog out,” often to do its business in their neighbor’s yard.
These same people will then act so surprised when their dog, set loose from captivity, decides to go for a little adventure around the neighborhood, gets lost or just chooses not to return.
You can hardly blame such an animal. Anyone on the Prairies understands the concept of cabin fever. Most humans, however, know how to get home. Many dogs do not.
Perhaps if these same dog owners spent half the time and effort in keeping their dogs penned up as they did in printing and distributing these signs, their dogs would be safe and sound at home.
In the past, I have noticed occasional signs for a lost dog from time to time, but never anywhere close to the number that I've seen recently. Lost dogs have apparently become such a problem that there’s even a Web site at www.winnipeglostdogalert.com, where dog owners can go for help in finding their lost dogs.
I am not a dog owner, nor do I have any affinity for dogs, but I do feel badly for the dogs in question. Domesticated animals are ill-equipped to live on their own and being outside their homes in this extreme cold can effectively be a death sentence.
Seeing these signs and the desperate pleas from their owners leads me to wonder why these dogs are getting lost in the first place. Certainly, accidents do happen, but there are so many people in this city who take their dogs out and let them roam free with impunity and/or handle their dog’s call of nature by “letting the dog out,” often to do its business in their neighbor’s yard.
These same people will then act so surprised when their dog, set loose from captivity, decides to go for a little adventure around the neighborhood, gets lost or just chooses not to return.
You can hardly blame such an animal. Anyone on the Prairies understands the concept of cabin fever. Most humans, however, know how to get home. Many dogs do not.
Perhaps if these same dog owners spent half the time and effort in keeping their dogs penned up as they did in printing and distributing these signs, their dogs would be safe and sound at home.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
A Bus Ride through the Heart of Winnipeg
A bus ride through the city’s toilet
Begins with an evening that a bum would like to forget
He drifts in and out of a conscious state
I don’t want to know what happened last night so late
Someone gets on with a hat from the Witness Protection Program
Does he want to get shot, or is he just being a ham?
A young woman applies her many cosmetics, how much is anyone’s guess
Among this group, who is she trying to impress?
At City Hall, the bus shelter is not just a place to wait
For some it’s a residence with a cheap rate
At the Sutherland Hotel, an ambulance is parked outside
Likely another repeat customer will get a free ride
The Selkirk Avenue clientele fill the bus with an eclectic aroma
The mix of vomit and beer is enough to put anyone into a coma
On the dark street a jogger runs, what the heck?
He’s probably not playing with a full deck
Weirdos abound causing a fuss
And in Winnipeg, they’re all taking the bus
Begins with an evening that a bum would like to forget
He drifts in and out of a conscious state
I don’t want to know what happened last night so late
Someone gets on with a hat from the Witness Protection Program
Does he want to get shot, or is he just being a ham?
A young woman applies her many cosmetics, how much is anyone’s guess
Among this group, who is she trying to impress?
At City Hall, the bus shelter is not just a place to wait
For some it’s a residence with a cheap rate
At the Sutherland Hotel, an ambulance is parked outside
Likely another repeat customer will get a free ride
The Selkirk Avenue clientele fill the bus with an eclectic aroma
The mix of vomit and beer is enough to put anyone into a coma
On the dark street a jogger runs, what the heck?
He’s probably not playing with a full deck
Weirdos abound causing a fuss
And in Winnipeg, they’re all taking the bus
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Christmas Day Bus Ride
Twas the day of Christmas and all through the bus
Plenty of creatures were stirring, maybe even a mouse
A rotund woman squeezes through the aisle with a great deal of trouble
After getting on, the bus’s weight surely did double
Under her arm, a large box of chocolates she did bring
It had to be empty, ‘cause it looked like she ate the whole thing
The first of a number of bums staggered onto the bus
After sitting down, he flashed his few remaining teeth to us
He soon caused those around him to scatter
Bathing more than once a month does matter
The next one showed that standing on his feet is truly an art
For someone who smelled like he just held up a liquor mart
A scruffy character with an IQ of about five
Had to have picked up his U of M backpack in a dumpster dive
Two teenage hoodlums showed no shame
As they scoped out their next claim
A woman boarded after her holiday eggnog
Inside her stroller was not a baby, but a dog
She didn’t look to have problems with her vision
Being a guide dog was not Rover’s mission
Another day on the bus that saps holiday cheer
It makes me want to get out of here
Plenty of creatures were stirring, maybe even a mouse
A rotund woman squeezes through the aisle with a great deal of trouble
After getting on, the bus’s weight surely did double
Under her arm, a large box of chocolates she did bring
It had to be empty, ‘cause it looked like she ate the whole thing
The first of a number of bums staggered onto the bus
After sitting down, he flashed his few remaining teeth to us
He soon caused those around him to scatter
Bathing more than once a month does matter
The next one showed that standing on his feet is truly an art
For someone who smelled like he just held up a liquor mart
A scruffy character with an IQ of about five
Had to have picked up his U of M backpack in a dumpster dive
Two teenage hoodlums showed no shame
As they scoped out their next claim
A woman boarded after her holiday eggnog
Inside her stroller was not a baby, but a dog
She didn’t look to have problems with her vision
Being a guide dog was not Rover’s mission
Another day on the bus that saps holiday cheer
It makes me want to get out of here
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Moose Flashback: “We’re Not Marketing Fighting”
“We’re not marketing fighting on our hockey team.”
Those were the words of Tim Scott, Vice-President of Sales and Marketing of the Manitoba “Fighting” Moose back in 2000, as told to the Winnipeg Free Press, in response to the instant backlash to an ad that the Moose had placed in the Free Press.
The ad in question was designed like a fight card and couldn’t help but remind hockey fans of the scene in Slap Shot when Reggie Dunlop was in Joe McGrath’s office going over a similar ad with the heading of “Aggressive Hockey is Back in Town.” Dunlop suggested, among other things, putting a picture of a groin injury and a “For Sale” sign on the ad, since the fight-happy Charlestown Chiefs were scheduled to fold at the end of the year.
The Moose were in no less trouble than those fictional Chiefs. Their lease was expiring at the Winnipeg Arena and despite having recently rattled off ten wins in a row and sitting comfortably in first place, attendance and fan interest were bottoming out. Crowds were regularly announced in the 6-7,000 range, but, in reality, there were less than 4,000 actually in the building. Many of the Moose’s fans had apparently doused themselves in some leftover invisible paint that Wile E. Coyote had ordered from the Acme catalog as part of one or more of his futile schemes to catch the Road Runner.
Two weeks earlier, Mel Angelstad, the Moose’s fighter, got into a scrap with Chris Neil of the Grand Rapids Griffins after Neil had tried to pick a fight with Moose captain Brian F. Chapman. Sensing an opportunity to capitalize on a potential rematch between the two heavyweights, the Moose placed this ad and printed off 2,000 posters of Angelstad to be given away that night.
Fighters came and went, but there were none like Mel Angelstad. Known as “Mad Mel” or the “Angler,” Angelstad was unquestionably the biggest “celebrity” fighter in the game at the time. He tracked his fighting numbers the way a sniper would track his goals and would boast with pride about his annual totals of 30-40 fights in a season.
He also understood better than anyone that sports was an entertainment business and there was no bigger showman than Mel Angelstad. After taking care of business on the ice, he would tip his helmet and beam his child-like smile at his admirers on the other side of the glass. While he was with the Moose, most of those admirers were the Moose’s preferred demographic, the 8-12 year old boys who were pounding on the glass yelling, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
As the Moose had hoped, the ad did generate plenty of attention, but, as was commonplace during that era, it was very negative attention. The Moose were forced to hastily backtrack and reworded the ad the following day to instead promote the opposing power plays and penalty killing units.
“We realized right away it wasn’t an accurate reflection of what we’re all about. So we said, ‘Let’s change it,’” said Moose owner/president/general manager/head coach Mark Chipman to the Free Press.
But it was an accurate reflection of what the “Fighting” Moose were all about.
During their five seasons in the IHL, the Moose had more fights than points in the standings and they had led the league in number of fights the previous season. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” was easily the most common chant during those years. By contrast, I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that I heard a “Go Moose Go” chant.
This was but one of many colorful, zany stories from an otherwise forgettable era of hockey history in Winnipeg that few fans saw.
Hmmm, maybe someone should write a book featuring all those stories.
And maybe someone is doing just that.
Those were the words of Tim Scott, Vice-President of Sales and Marketing of the Manitoba “Fighting” Moose back in 2000, as told to the Winnipeg Free Press, in response to the instant backlash to an ad that the Moose had placed in the Free Press.
Do you remember this infamous ad?
The ad in question was designed like a fight card and couldn’t help but remind hockey fans of the scene in Slap Shot when Reggie Dunlop was in Joe McGrath’s office going over a similar ad with the heading of “Aggressive Hockey is Back in Town.” Dunlop suggested, among other things, putting a picture of a groin injury and a “For Sale” sign on the ad, since the fight-happy Charlestown Chiefs were scheduled to fold at the end of the year.
The Moose were in no less trouble than those fictional Chiefs. Their lease was expiring at the Winnipeg Arena and despite having recently rattled off ten wins in a row and sitting comfortably in first place, attendance and fan interest were bottoming out. Crowds were regularly announced in the 6-7,000 range, but, in reality, there were less than 4,000 actually in the building. Many of the Moose’s fans had apparently doused themselves in some leftover invisible paint that Wile E. Coyote had ordered from the Acme catalog as part of one or more of his futile schemes to catch the Road Runner.
Two weeks earlier, Mel Angelstad, the Moose’s fighter, got into a scrap with Chris Neil of the Grand Rapids Griffins after Neil had tried to pick a fight with Moose captain Brian F. Chapman. Sensing an opportunity to capitalize on a potential rematch between the two heavyweights, the Moose placed this ad and printed off 2,000 posters of Angelstad to be given away that night.
Fighters came and went, but there were none like Mel Angelstad. Known as “Mad Mel” or the “Angler,” Angelstad was unquestionably the biggest “celebrity” fighter in the game at the time. He tracked his fighting numbers the way a sniper would track his goals and would boast with pride about his annual totals of 30-40 fights in a season.
He also understood better than anyone that sports was an entertainment business and there was no bigger showman than Mel Angelstad. After taking care of business on the ice, he would tip his helmet and beam his child-like smile at his admirers on the other side of the glass. While he was with the Moose, most of those admirers were the Moose’s preferred demographic, the 8-12 year old boys who were pounding on the glass yelling, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
As the Moose had hoped, the ad did generate plenty of attention, but, as was commonplace during that era, it was very negative attention. The Moose were forced to hastily backtrack and reworded the ad the following day to instead promote the opposing power plays and penalty killing units.
“We realized right away it wasn’t an accurate reflection of what we’re all about. So we said, ‘Let’s change it,’” said Moose owner/president/general manager/head coach Mark Chipman to the Free Press.
But it was an accurate reflection of what the “Fighting” Moose were all about.
During their five seasons in the IHL, the Moose had more fights than points in the standings and they had led the league in number of fights the previous season. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” was easily the most common chant during those years. By contrast, I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that I heard a “Go Moose Go” chant.
This was but one of many colorful, zany stories from an otherwise forgettable era of hockey history in Winnipeg that few fans saw.
Hmmm, maybe someone should write a book featuring all those stories.
And maybe someone is doing just that.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Dear Jack Ask
This past week, I read an interesting item in the Winnipeg Sun’s new advice column. You can read the column here, including the response from Jackie De Pape Hornick, a.k.a. “Jack Ask.”
For the reader’s convenience, here was the question put to “Jack Ask”:
DEAR JACK ASK: I have breakfast with Ladd and sleep beside Noel. At least that's what it feels like since all my husband does is live and breathe the Winnipeg Jets.
I was pumped, too, when the Jets returned, but now my husband goes to all 45 home games and watches every away game on TV, so the Jets' schedule (stuck on my fridge) serves as the new family calendar. He literally asks me if I've "checked the fridge" if I mention a party we've been invited to — even for away games.
With the holiday season coming, he's refusing to go to my work party and a family gathering because they fall on home game days. I'm starting to feel like a hockey widow and he's not even a player. I don't want to tell him he can't go, but I don't want to spend the holidays alone, either. What can I do?
“Jack” gave a clever response. In this case, however, I think that I can do one better.
Dear Married to the Jets: Your situation is not unique among couples in Winnipeg, where the madness concerning this sorry excuse for a hockey team is still raging.
The end of this honeymoon period, however, is on the horizon, and with every loss that “Thrashers Light” piles up, interest in the team will continue to wane. Even your husband will soon be looking to pawn his tickets.
As long as owner/president/general manager/head coach Mark Chipman is in charge, you need not worry about a miraculous upturn in the team’s fortunes that might re-ignite your husband’s passion. Chipman and his hand-picked cadre of brown-nosers, personal friends and cronies will do little but let a bad team flounder while gleefully pocketing your hard-earned tax money.
Be patient. It won’t be long before your husband and every other hockey fan in Manitoba will grow weary of watching a collection of fourth-liners and waiver-wire pickups that would have had trouble beating the Moose. Ride the wave and be ready to welcome him back when once he realizes that ownership is not nearly as committed to the team’s success as the fan base.
In the meantime, enjoy the time alone. You’ll soon be seeing more of him than you can handle.
For the reader’s convenience, here was the question put to “Jack Ask”:
DEAR JACK ASK: I have breakfast with Ladd and sleep beside Noel. At least that's what it feels like since all my husband does is live and breathe the Winnipeg Jets.
I was pumped, too, when the Jets returned, but now my husband goes to all 45 home games and watches every away game on TV, so the Jets' schedule (stuck on my fridge) serves as the new family calendar. He literally asks me if I've "checked the fridge" if I mention a party we've been invited to — even for away games.
With the holiday season coming, he's refusing to go to my work party and a family gathering because they fall on home game days. I'm starting to feel like a hockey widow and he's not even a player. I don't want to tell him he can't go, but I don't want to spend the holidays alone, either. What can I do?
— Married to the Jets
“Jack” gave a clever response. In this case, however, I think that I can do one better.
Dear Married to the Jets: Your situation is not unique among couples in Winnipeg, where the madness concerning this sorry excuse for a hockey team is still raging.
The end of this honeymoon period, however, is on the horizon, and with every loss that “Thrashers Light” piles up, interest in the team will continue to wane. Even your husband will soon be looking to pawn his tickets.
As long as owner/president/general manager/head coach Mark Chipman is in charge, you need not worry about a miraculous upturn in the team’s fortunes that might re-ignite your husband’s passion. Chipman and his hand-picked cadre of brown-nosers, personal friends and cronies will do little but let a bad team flounder while gleefully pocketing your hard-earned tax money.
Be patient. It won’t be long before your husband and every other hockey fan in Manitoba will grow weary of watching a collection of fourth-liners and waiver-wire pickups that would have had trouble beating the Moose. Ride the wave and be ready to welcome him back when once he realizes that ownership is not nearly as committed to the team’s success as the fan base.
In the meantime, enjoy the time alone. You’ll soon be seeing more of him than you can handle.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Deacon’s Corner Sign-Gate
On the Trans-Canada Highway east of Winnipeg, there is a sign just past Deacon’s Corner that gives the distance in kilometers to Falcon Lake and Kenora. In many respects, it is a sign not unlike many others in the province that gives motorists an idea how far it is to their destination.
This one, however, has a sordid tale behind it.
After the Metric system was imposed upon the Canadian people during Pierre Trudeau’s autocratic reign as the country’s heavy-handed, supreme ruler, many of these signs around the province were changed to reflect the distances in kilometers instead of miles.
This particular sign, likely an original of the Metric era, had served motorists well for many years. Though the posts and perhaps the brackets that were holding it up had seen better days, despite its age, the metal sign itself looked no worse for the wear. However, someone at Manitoba Infrastructure and Transportation still decided that it needed to be replaced. The reasons for this decision escape me.
Two years ago, as part of the much-needed resurfacing of this stretch of highway, this new sign made its unceremonious debut. Not only had Kenora apparently moved two kilometers closer, the first letter of Kenora had been spelled with a small “k” and the “k” in Falcon Lake had been capitalized.
These glaring errors on this three or four-foot high sign could not possibly be any more obvious, yet no one with Signal Industries in Dauphin, where these signs are made, or Infrastructure and Transportation caught them.
This sign clearly should never have left the factory, let alone been put up on the side of a highway. I can’t even hazard a guess as to how many people saw this sign on its way here and failed to notice the mistakes.
Worse still, this sign stood there for over a year until it was finally corrected this summer.
Today, as part of a 41-mile bike ride out that way, I visited the location and got a picture of the corrected sign.
Rather than putting a sticker or a metal plate over each letter, which is commonly done on these signs, they repainted it completely. It is akin to repainting an entire wall of a room in your house to cover up a mark the size of a closed fist.
I can just hear a good friend of mine saying, “Thank you government!”™
Your tax dollars at work.
This one, however, has a sordid tale behind it.
After the Metric system was imposed upon the Canadian people during Pierre Trudeau’s autocratic reign as the country’s heavy-handed, supreme ruler, many of these signs around the province were changed to reflect the distances in kilometers instead of miles.
This particular sign, likely an original of the Metric era, had served motorists well for many years. Though the posts and perhaps the brackets that were holding it up had seen better days, despite its age, the metal sign itself looked no worse for the wear. However, someone at Manitoba Infrastructure and Transportation still decided that it needed to be replaced. The reasons for this decision escape me.
Two years ago, as part of the much-needed resurfacing of this stretch of highway, this new sign made its unceremonious debut. Not only had Kenora apparently moved two kilometers closer, the first letter of Kenora had been spelled with a small “k” and the “k” in Falcon Lake had been capitalized.
These glaring errors on this three or four-foot high sign could not possibly be any more obvious, yet no one with Signal Industries in Dauphin, where these signs are made, or Infrastructure and Transportation caught them.
This sign clearly should never have left the factory, let alone been put up on the side of a highway. I can’t even hazard a guess as to how many people saw this sign on its way here and failed to notice the mistakes.
Worse still, this sign stood there for over a year until it was finally corrected this summer.
Today, as part of a 41-mile bike ride out that way, I visited the location and got a picture of the corrected sign.
Rather than putting a sticker or a metal plate over each letter, which is commonly done on these signs, they repainted it completely. It is akin to repainting an entire wall of a room in your house to cover up a mark the size of a closed fist.
I can just hear a good friend of mine saying, “Thank you government!”™
Your tax dollars at work.
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