Thursday, June 26, 2008

Some mysteries solved.

Ah well.

Like the S&M Guy wryly said,

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me.

I have had more sticks and stones thrown at me last week than enough, but there was support too:

To wit, one from the Regional Councillor, who, I suppose would be like a senior assymblyman in the U.S.:

Mr. Prokopchuk is correct. Train whistles in Newmarket and all over Ontario are a regular annoyance to many people.

He suggests the town of Newmarket should have done more by exceeding the Regional poicy guidelines for whistle bans from ten p.m. to six a.m.
It is important to understand, however, the daytime whistles starting at around six a.m. and running thought the evening are GO train whisles that fall under the jursidiction of the province.
GO will not participate in a whistle ban at a station crossing and its operatiors will will sound a warning at their own discretion, regardless of municipal or reginal bylaws.

Regional Councillor

Well, in pipes the GO, saying see? We toldja so. There was a lady killed at the crossing. We'll blow our whistles as we like. It's for the protection of pedestrians at level crossing.s"

Well, whistles or no, the poor lady was offed.

The "Toot" is moot.

Ah whatever. I have yet to see nearly an entire letters section devoted to chastising Ivan.

Hit me, says the masochist. No, says the sadist.

Probably get my next orgasm from a train whistle--. If I'd have been a fan of Leipold von-Sacher- Masoch, name-giver to the condition of Masochism.

I am really reminded of a cartoon where the vacuum cleaner taunts the fan. "Blow me."
And the fan responds: "You suck."

Ah. Talk about the elegance of self-expression.

Didn't want to be in this play anyway.

I was supposed to say, "Hark, the train!"

Instead, like No-good Boyo, out of Dylan Thomas, it seemed to have come off like "What the f8ck was that?"


Addendum to the last blog, the green box sorting maze, by John Dowson:

Oh dear oh dear,
Headline in today's Era-Banner, Newmarket:
"Green bin program his major setback":
"York Region has resorted to incinerating one third of its organic waste in what may be considered a major setback to the celebrated green bin program. Composting of curbside collected green bin material is the preferred process. Instead, 500 tonnnes of the 1,500 tonnes of organic waste cellected weekly in York Region is being shipped to Covanta Niagara L.P. in New York State, where it is burned to create electricity and steam in the Niagrara area.
John Dowson: After all the scrupulocity, you may have been wasting your time.
And the cover story with the Niagara Falls plant:"Generating steam and electricity"? A likely story. What in hell is a mammoth garbage incinerator doing at beautiful Niagara Falls?
Ah, Tony Soprano. He fix. And we dweebs are so careful to sort and categorize the garbage. And it all goes to one big fire volcano.. .And befouls the resort area air. "Generating electricity and steam."


Lana Gramlich said...

Reminds me of when I lived near some kind of coal place w/train access...the sound of the train taking forever to squeal & grind into the place. Not to mention the sirens & alarms of the lift bridge just 40' away. Gads, how I love the country!

Charles Gramlich said...

Noise pollution is a curse of our times. said...


East Coat, I guess.

Myself, I always get homesick for the railroad station at San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, although I was certainly not born there. A story is told that Neil Moriarty, of "On the Road" died there, though most say he actually died died at a
railroad depot in California.

And the souls of poets.
Lonesome wail.
A high, metallic sun in the late afternoon, the tracks glistening.
Oldfashioened trains with Pullmans.
Straight out of a Johhny Cash song.
Right down to the thum-thump.
But not so loud. said...

Noisy, Malhusian times.

the walking man said...

Burn baby burn!

So your ass is hanging out in the wind eh? *Shrug* So what?

You know that any letters excoriating you are all from GO employees therefor not valid or at the very least partisan, so why not fight? "feck 'em" As my Scotsman grandfather would have said..."Atimes ye fight, just cuz ye have naught better to do" said...

If in doubt, clout, I suppose.

Or as my "Scots" grandfather would have said "Fok Me!"

JR's Thumbprints said...

I couldn't get past the pic. Reminds me of all those youngsters in prison with their asses hanging out of their prison blues. Too inviting for some. Certainly not me. said...

Well, this being a literary blog,
we seemed to have arrived at the device known as assonance.

Or, like some of my gay friends might say, "Never mind the doll. Check out the ass on that waiter!

Donnetta Lee said...

Grandpa was a depot agent. He believed in safety. Especially after a train in a nearby town almost ran me, my brother, and my mom down by not blowing the whistle. No barrier was up either. But that was mid-day. Grandpa called the powers that be and complained. Took care of it. For me, growing up in a small town, the sound of the whistle is a happy, nostalgic sound that reminds me of Grandpa. NOW-these days I don't know that I could actually LIVE right next to it. But-those were the days.
Donnetta said...


Yes, I too have lived in small towns beside a kind of romantic-sounding railway.

But we got urban congestion here and the trains practiclly run all the time, and the GO locomotives have this murderously loud horn.

Call it urban congestion. Cornfields are gone and and all the roads and railways are clogged.
Exurbia and its problems.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

I lived in a small town too. Well, once anyway. But then all town have noises that makes us remember or lose our minds.

Whenever I hear the whistle of the local train I think of when I use to run and see it. I would then count how many blue train cars there were. (Blue being my favorite color)Ahh well, I am rambling now aren't I?

Nice piece Ivan.

T said...

thnx Tara.