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Esther had the very brilliant idea to start celebrating St. Patrick's Day early at the Old Dublin. So we went. The Old Dub is always a nostalgia trip for me anyway -- my first Irish (OK, Montreal Irish) pub, first legal hangout, memories of drunken evenings out from RVC, etc -- and particularly when Liam Callaghan is playing (he mentioned that it's his 15th St. Paddy's Day at the Old Dub, an anniversary of sorts). As always he looked at least half-asleep, but the fiddler (name of Fiona) had energy to spare. The bassist, as always, anonymous (new guy though -- the multitasking bass/whistle/flute/bodhran player had to go live in Ontario if I caught that right).

Double nostalgia on this occasion since they played The Foggy Dew, a tune I first encountered as Living in America by Black 47. K introduced me to it first, but Nova Comics always seemed to have it on when I went down there. That was a great store -- it was in a massive old building on Ste-Catherine, opposite Sam's when Sam's was still alive, one of those huge buildings that seems to have a little of everything in it, a comic store and a karate studio and a used record store (and I do mean record) and goodness knows what else. Broad hallways, high ceilings, sweeping staircases, an air of quiet and neglect and dust and long lazy summer afternoons. I loved it. This was back in the early 90s, when Montreal was still mired in gritty urban decay and rents were $200 a month most places and there were huge gaping holes along all the major streets and the developers hadn't noticed us yet. I think there's a Future Shop in there now.

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St. Patrick's Day Parade with Mary.

We missed the first hour but still saw plenty (including the Ukrainian float -- I love this town). Pleased to report an utter absence of 60ish Italian men trying to pick me up this year. Then some shopping at the Tristan warehouse -- nothing screamed "Buy me!" so I didn't -- then steamed hot dogs and poutine, then my place for beer and chat. Lots of walking.

Now I come to think of it, I didn't notice a green line down the middle of the road this time. Shocking!

Cutting and pasting: reasons to read the Globe and Mail

I always find Doug Saunders' column informative and thought-provoking. He always manages to tell me something I didn't know from a source I never would have considered. Damn, I wish I were that well-informed (of course, it's his job...).

Please, let's stop arguing about whether a war is a good idea. A U.S. war on Iraq is no longer an idea at all, but a looming fact. The question that should be inspiring loud and fruitful arguments now is what kind of war to have.

I know what kinds we don't want. We don't want another 1991 Persian Gulf War, all sound and fury, signifying nothing. And nobody wants a Vietnam, its nebulous motives forever obscured in years of expensive cruelty and grief. A just war of liberation, like the Second World War, would be preferable, but without the vast human toll and the overweening imperial presence.

So there we have it: A tyranny-deposing, democracy-erecting, short-duration, low-damage, small-footprint war with minimal American offence followed by a robust and transparent reconstruction campaign, please. (more...)

Heather Mallick is hit-or-miss, but when she's on, she's on.

And then I am handed -- by an editor who knows what lights my match -- a new book called Mismatch: The Growing Gulf Between Women and Men, by an American polysci misery-guts named Andrew Hacker, who uses his book as a pitchfork to pig-stick the young'uns. Publishers do this, pay bad writers to draw vast conclusions from dubious statistics and come up with depressing statements about the sexes. And it sells like sparkplugs. Mr. Hacker says women are surpassing men educationally, co-habiting instead of marrying and leaping to divorce faster than men. To which I say "So?" Mr. Hacker agrees with Mr. Pepys: When women get something, whether freedom or foreplay, they get the trick of liking it.

On the cover of Mr. Hacker's rant, a man and woman in business dress are photographed from the knees down. The man is shorter than the woman, although on the back cover, he is taller. He is standing on his tiptoes, perhaps to kiss her.

I am a devoted feminist. And I love men, peculiar soccer-loving creatures that they are. I'm telling you that if the Hacker gulf is growing between men and women, 1. it's still an improvement over any time in our history, 2. that bridging the gulf will be more erotic than ever, and 3. that book cover is an insult to all men and all women. (more...)

Also, I will read anything Ken Wiwa writes. And his columns range widely.

Uh, that's all really... just wanted to share a little of my weekend reading...

Watching my second-ever Angel ep, taped from a month or so ago. Having trouble following all the characters despite the useful intro provided by the sunnydale_socks. My God but that Fred chick is skinny, don't they feed her? Doesn't she want breasts? Cordelia on the other hand looks fantastic.

Feel better soon, crankygrrl, and thanks for the tapes.