Fabulous Empress Tiko Toyomi

    My First Letter To Anya

    Tuesday, April 3, 2012, 5:16 PM [General]

    I sometimes feel this site is a well-protected and well-edited bog site but I'm afraid someone or other might want an answer to her comment.  On that issue, I followed suit to Jackie Kennedy and basically don't reply to any of them.

    Anya, your wee pic which appears hereabove reminds me of a one-time travel-mate I had to Hawaii  -  Chrissy Sax.

    She was a beautiful lady who fell in love with a mllionnaire visiting Maui.  She was but 4'10" but the man was "average" in height.  But then again, Hawaii is where dreams are spawned.

    It's paradise made so the proletariat can understand it...at least it was back in '75 when we flew mega miles to get there from Toronto via Chicago and Los Angeles with the excitement of baggage "loss".  However, as there were so many bags lost altogether, our insurance went to waste.  Our bags were delivered to our rooms on the third day of our stay in Honolulu.

    Looking back, TheBus was 25¢ per ride anywhere on the island, including to the back side where there's an unbelievable looking bay complete with a large rock formation protruding out of the snow-white sand near the shore when the tide is out used as a launching station into the clear blue-green waters below.

    A Japanese nationale was working his way around the world in his management training course and made culture his speciality and took to  learning recipes from the world over without having to learn much of any language.

    While he stayed on Oahu, he had a rented car.  He took me to see a rock formation called the Blow Hole.  It was iin full action.  He also drove me to a restaurant where I could eat pressure similated imu imu pig as prepared in a luau. I ate poi for the first time in my life and enjoyed the naturally purple fermentation.

    I saw a top Japanese restaurant with gold carp in the stream surrounding it complete with bridges.  I saw Punahou, the school that President Obama attended in his youth.

    I later met a golf pro who played a guitar and sang for me on a balmy, starless night on the edge of Waikiki Beach.  The nuns had taught him that hyn when he was in school.

    During the last morning before my afternoon departure flight, I visited the Buddhist Temple protruding from amongst the verdant hills.

    On the way home, I was brought crashing down to reality when an American GI posted in paradise told there were eleven children in his parents' family.  When beef was on the menu each child said what cut or beef dish he or she  wanted.  Every cut they wanted was purchased.  Then.  Whoever was the helper that night would grind up all the cuts of beef together.  It was well mixed to congeal no-filler, no-egg meat.  The batch of meat was then made into even patties so that every child and mother and father got an equitable share of every cut of beef.

    So, at the busstop, I realized another way of life, an American way of life.  That brings us to our fun times Redhatting.  God bless you and I hope you long enjoy redhat good times.

    Yours in friendship,

    F.E. Tiko Toyomi

    0 (0 Ratings)

    Political Science Dreamer Or Once Around The Bend

    Tuesday, April 3, 2012, 12:37 PM [General]

    Now that I have written about eighty to eighty-five blogs here, I have one to write about Moi.
    I have always been a pie-in-the-sky dreamer but everything I have dreamed of and put forth in poly sci seems to have been taken by my betters and parsed and re-vamped until a true horror story has taken place.
    It appears I am quite taken by stories such as "The Last Vice-Roy" and other idyllic ways of colonizing far away warm lands with balmy breezes and afternoon teas, lemonade on the lawn and regulation summer white wardrobes, and grand balls in the cool evening.
    I wanted the concept of off-shore labour to take Canadians who would like a tenure or sabbatical and pay them at Canadian rates while allowing them to enjoy holiday conditions for life if they wished on the other side of the world so that the "graveyard shift" wouldn't have to be worked by so many.
    Instead my betters have thought of earning our own Establishment more lucre by paying pesos to peons.  
    Those few persons overseas who can overcome accents somewhat are chosen to deliver a diatribe to Anglophones living in the rat race in our large cities.  
    They consume our valuable time and energy saying a lot of nothing and trying, at least, my patience.
    My original concept of shipping Arctic and Athabasca tar sand oil southward even into the United States as we, Canadians and Americans tend to live in regions divided by north-south divisonal lines.  
    I had hoped to conserve our most precious ecology by suggesting continuous trains containing only tanks of oil to prevent spilling of all but one tank at a time so that we would ruin less wildlife and vegetation when an accident occurred.  
    With all due respect to engineers of all kinds, the powers that be found a continuous and often continuously leaking pipeline in one place or another more economical and employed only those needed for the task itself.
    Now, I realize I was quite counterproductive but dreamed on instead.
    So our world turns as it usually has over the long millenia paying and playing only to its immediate manager and professionals.
    I have long known that not only can professionals save enough to re-train, win scholarships with their existing credentials and know how to survive whereas the burdensome lot of the labourer is to be laid off immediately as the work requirements change and sit painfully sore on UIC then next the local dole system.  
    It was the latter I felt needed some protection to enhance the quality of life in our national mosaïc of vigourous happy Canadians earning their living to which I thought some thought should be given.  
    However, "when times were good", the interest rates went up to twenty per cent for a larger amount of latent money held only by the upper half of the social pyramid.  Happy were we with monies Granny had left us.  "Everyone" was employed.
    Now, frigid spinsters who inherited the family wealth and management who have long braced themselves against unproductive labour, sputter "bums" at those they have almost disenfranchised in self-defense to keep abreast with their peers.
    It seemed we were more afraid of foreign takeovers until we sent them off-shore work and unemployed out own people plus we are faced with refugees beyond belief.  They are changing our fabric of life rapidly and we must be aware, politically correct, and be insulted that our English, and I was bornand educated in English Canada, is not understandable.
    The strangest part of all this is our resolute, wealthy, long-time bachelor and former Prime Minister, the late Pierre Elliot Trudeau, who wanted what I wanted but he wanted it NOW so that those of his own time could see prosperity a little more even distributed throughout the Third World as "we (Canada) have so much and so little of it has even been touched".
    Apparently, the marketing specialists had other ideas to give some of us what we wanted but make the rest of us burn as "bums"!
    Quite apparently, there weren't enough generous thinkers left after the Economics and Marketing courses were taught without spreading the wealth without leaving bare spots in our own land.
    Now, I have noticed that the United States rose to be the most powerful nation in the world by protecting its borders and own people jealously until a national spirit was born and kept.  I often wished Canada could be the same about its own protection but alas our population exists for the main part only a certain "strip" along the this side of the American border.
    We have NAFTA but how we bicker amongst ourselves.  We don't stand a chance.  Even banning the import of American beef products in retalliation, we leave our own cat hungering after certain brands of Beef Flavour I greatly suspect smell of catnip or something delicious to cats.
    If we consider off-shore labour as a countermeasure to NAFTA, it certainly has worked that way.  For every redhat item I have purchased from America outside of California which I understand has an early Agreement with Ontario, I have had to pay Monsieur Le Douanier quite a bit due to the fact that the items are made abroad then sent to America before we in Canada innocently purchase them.
    You would think the rest of the world had thought of off-shore labour, not North Americans with capitalist principles!
    Well, my friends, were we too prosperous and growing too fat off the land?  Nonsense! Historians will teach that decadence follows success.
    Do any of my friends have any thoughts on this without creating cottage industry crafts?  That should be reserved only for the talented and skilled.
    "In the meantime, in between time, ain't we got fun!" we Redhatters shall "skid into our graves, piece of Belgian chocolate in one hand, a glass of French wine in the other," for what can we do "when times get rough" but party on.  Woo-Eee!
     
    0 (0 Ratings)

    Irma LaDollare Grows Up

    Friday, March 9, 2012, 11:36 AM [General]

    I have longed to tell you for some time now the story I came to know about Irma.  Irma was attacked by a Black boy at school for not knowing the current mores of her environment and insisting he take her as wife.  

    Apparently, she wanted the same situation as her Mom had which was the only family life she came to know as viable.  She adored her Mom.  Her Mom was the only other person in her world.  Her Father and brother were there in the other room to complete her family while she had the cherished position of rooming with her Mom all to herself.

    She was "A Child Of Convenience".  Everything Mom did to save was cut back and out of  Irma's poor little life.  When she finally had to eat more than the meagre raw food her Mom made the family eat, Mom got her a job in a kitchen where she was unsuitable but kept for awhile to let her establish references.

    Now, Irma always chatted easily and stroked everyone with her words but her hands stopped working when her mouth worked.  

    Eventually, she worked as a file clerk in an office environment where she went to a male professional she wanted and confided her tragic story about the attack by the Black boy at Hemmingwood High School which she had instigated herself.  

    Now this school in Commerce City's historic district left her no one to pick up the pieces as they say.  They plainly denied it had ever happened and ignored her plight as she was withdrawn from school and fell a year behind her usual classmates.  The upcoming students seemed to avoid her as a failure and bad influence detracting from their school.  

    As it were, she was left with her predicament exclusively with only her Mom who really gave her no words worth valuing for it or guidance after directing her to do as Mom's own generation's mores demanded.  Her Mom, under the supposition that she gave Irma her own choice with her body after proper guidance, treated her very coldly.  

    Now, Irma's Mom in exasperation with Irma carrying on about her attack and doing nothing about it except to remedy her situation. That is, her Mom's ambition of handing her over to a husband chaste or getting the "job" completed by a physician and going on with her own life which she elected to do after a disturbing thirteen years.  

    Her Mom took to calling her a street walker from time to time as if stigmatizing her would give her any guidance to do respectable work of any and every kind.  This admonition finally took root especially after her one-time classmate, decided to have some extra-curricular activity with Irma after ruining his own wife.  

    To stop Irma from seeking him out for the exhiliarating feeling she got from being played with, her Mom convinced Irma what he was doing wasn't good for her if she bled.  The mother invited him to live with them.  Then had Irma frustrate him after she got herself played with; then, had Irma rid him out of their home without "his turn".

    When the mother actually got tired of her father's climacteric, she allowed him to use her the way he wanted to satify himself not knowing the consequences to herself.  The consequence was her own major surgery leaving Mom requiring medical appliances.

    The only concern her Mom seemed to express was that Irma wasn't working even after she turned thirty years of age.  This she told Irma had left the family out of budget letting her mature self share and live off Dad's economy for the family.  Otherwise, she would have enough cash to buy her medical appliances even as an unregistered user, which she was due to her false pride at twenty-five dollars a piece.  She also gave Irma the job of cleaning up after her medical appliances and ensuing dirt giving the reason as Mom had to handle the food preparation for the family.

    As you can see everything was Irma's "fault" to wipe Mom's face clean after she smarted her way out of the government grant and applicance allowance. However, Irma soon found her way out of the dirtiest work her Mom gave her so unfairly by making her feel bad when the father and a social worker laid down the law to her Mom.

    At this juncture, Irma said nothing and thought very carefully what she was missing that she really wanted herself in life.  One evening she went out and brought home fifty dollars.  On accounting for such money, she told her Mom what she had done.  The jist of it is her Mom stuck up for Irma's choice of  activities because she herself wanted to float along without working.

    What had been lacking in her life Irma said were dates and good times, eating cooked food, and having nice men play with her, as her one-time class-mate had done before using her as he was wont, then taking a red bill for tips to complete her trick.

    However, in time, after laying out her deal, when Irma didn't get played with but was roughed up instead for not knowing the real score, she charged five to six hundred dollars for her services and got it.  That is basically the story of Irma LaDollare.

    You might see Irma some Thursday, Friday or Saturday evening amongst other ladies of the night discussing their "deal" to drivers stopping to choose his lady.  Irma always kept all her money and never cut in a pimp neither as her rate was basically too low.

    *          *          *          *

    Irma always was good with money for herself.  The story teller said she once switched the saved bad food order for the new food order and didn't pay the delivery man who cried his plight and ran away.  After that the take-out/delivery service wouldn't co-operate with their address or telephone number anymore.  However, Irma got them back for herself and her taste for their strong sauce which often used to fill the air of the adjacent suites.

    0 (0 Ratings)

    Corned Beef And Chiropractors

    Sunday, February 5, 2012, 2:00 AM [General]

    Last month, I went to a corned beef emporium by taxi in my determination to go somewhere in January.

    Our redhat luncheon speaker was Dr. Tony accompanied by his friend who is also a chiropractor.  She ran an electronic instrument up my neck and showed an image on her laptop indicating the state of my neck bones.  Dr. Tony had a projector from his lap top on a bare spot of wall.  Hellen was our posture model for Dr.Tony.  The one aspect of chiropractors I notice is their verve and buoyancy.  Betty Ann shouted she was posture queen at her high school in a specific year and dated herself!   A swell time was had by all.

    On the way home while I was waiting at the bus stop, "I spied with my little eyes" the words "fine fabrics" under the window blind shop sign.  Of course, that meant I had to take time out to search for purple suiting material.  However, the sign was dead on, it was the finest of woollen suiting and silk cloths they sold for a fraction of the price in any other shop of the same high calibre.  The owner was saying, "You don't know how old I am."  The saleslady told me, "If you come here next year, the shop won't be here.  It's closing as soon as all this is sold," indicating the bolts of luxurious cloth.

    The long peaceful ride home by transit took only one transfer despite the distance from K***'s and there were plenty of seats all the way home Tuesday mid-afternoon.

    Hopefully soon, another episode of Redhatting.  God bless.

    3.7 (1 Ratings)

    Maple Leaf Gardens Once Home Of the Leafs...

    Wednesday, December 21, 2011, 4:52 PM [General]

    Galen Weston's newest Toronto endeavour is Maple Leaf Gardens L***** store. Inside there are buffets on both sides of the sales counter where each platter of food has the same price.  It's quite a novelty to find chicken breast and veal at the same price as a well-presented vegetable dish but then, what's a meal without vegetables.

    To the front of the building on the west side, I found comfortable red and gold seats from the original arena.  The blue seats formed a mural high on the north wall by the escalators up to the LCBO (provincial liquor board) and J** F**** clothing store.  There, there are some red tables and chairs.

    Much was in camel coloured winter weight clothes at J** F**** and I saw a pair of gold shoes that's going to bother someone who's into that colour until it's hers.  I am wondering who will get it as I had a pair of gold shoes two decades ago to wear with my gold belt and a two-piece white dress with a swing skirt.

    The grocery store opened 30Nov11 complete with pharmacy and ever since, they've rotated bargains everywhere.  When some people go out acclaiming the price of J******* B*** P*****, they will bring in the next wave of bargain hunters who go out raving about the price of cocktail tomatoes.  What a show with everything from Aguave and Prickly Pears to three types of miniature cauliflowers and tiny red brussel sprouts.  A gourmet pile of yellow beets or a large two-tone beets with tops on most of the tubers.

    The fish and meat counter are superb at the moment and I bought one each of four types of sausages.  Now, I've decided to go back for meurgez sausages another day.

    Well, that's another day.  It's quite unique among several other grocery stores in the area.  Perhaps someday soon, you will park your car in the basement there and munch on a wrap or enjoy gelati on a warm day.  God bless.

     

    0 (0 Ratings)

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