Hi there,

    I have just returned from the bowels of hell! My wife took a week off work and turned into Satan. She found the job jar untouched for months and decided it was time to put me through my paces. 
    It started with my all-time favourite job -- painting the washroom! Painting the washroom was not the problem. Stripping wallpaper from the washroom was my problem. I cussed and swore my way through layer after layer as I used every chemical known to man to remove the friggin paper. What a horrible job! 
    To crown it all, I found a great big hole under the wallpaper hiding the cut-off tap for the water. It had been camouflaged for years. So, I had to patch the bloody thing using drywall. No sooner had I patched and polyfilled the bugger when the superintendent of the building arrived to replace the washroom taps. Guess what that meant? He screwed up my handiwork! 
    I will not bore you with details of the other jobs she found for me, suffice to say that I am now a shadow of my former self. 
    As you know, we have been without a car for several months after that 
idiot on Highway 401 ploughed into the back of Old Faithful and wrecked it beyond repair. I just was getting the hang of being car-less when my son-in-law bought himself a new van and thought it would be a great idea to give me his old car. Until then, there was no: "Take me here, take me there, fetch me, etc". However, my wife seized on the opportunity and the first 
words out of her mouth sent the hairs on my legs into rigor mortis: "Now you can take me to work in the mornings and fetch me". 
    How many years do you think I'll get for killing my son-in-law? 
    My grandson has now graduated to the stage where insects have taken 
over from Animaniacs and Batman. He is now collecting goggas! He has this disgusting bottle of assorted arachnid species mixed with a variety of ants, worms and other bottom feeders. Last time I checked, some miniature green monster was busy committing genocide in the jar! If it doesn't finish off the job 
soon, I will seriously contemplate assisting with liberal doses of Doom or 
Raid! 
    Our weather is awful. The days have become hot and humid. The nights are hot and humid. Everything is hot and bloody humid. I'm going bankrupt supporting the ice-cream manufacturers and Coca Cola. And, there's no end 
in sight! I would love to describe my state of dress right now but it would be deemed pornographic. I will leave it to your imagination. And stay out of the gutter! 
    Our province has settled down after the recent elections and, as expected, the Conservatives once again hold the reins. What a bunch of losers! The 
head honcho is Premier Mike Harris. This is not a lie. If his brains were dynamite, he wouldn't have enough to blow his friggin nose! However, the 
vote was democratic so we have to live with him. 
    What's happening in Canada?  Not too much. This weekend saw 750,000 people turn out in the rain for the Gay Pride parade in the city centre. It was a spectacle to behold. Some of the nudity would have offended you but here, it was simply shrugged off -- like the nude bathing at a special beach that has 
just been sanctified by City Hall. The only drawback for the bare-all brigade 
is that an ancient law forbids them from soaking their naked backsides (and frontsides) in the polluted waters of Lake Ontario! 
    But, our city has a lot of heart. As you know, Toronto is like a magnet. It attracts those seeking jobs and those who want to make a new start in life. However, many of the thousands who arrive each week find themselves homeless, sleeping on the sidewalks, begging on the streets or lining up to get into overnight hostels. Now, a program has been started by the city to help those who long to go home but can barely afford food, let alone a ticket. Those who can prove they have a place to stay or a job in another city, will 
get assistance. Ain't that a great idea to help them rebuild their lives? 
    Out in the province of Quebec where our Francophone cousins rule supreme (and detest the English) there is a new twist to their insanity. They are now puttering with golfers' lingo. Bye-bye birdie, allo oiselet! These flippin frogs now want French terms used on their golf courses. It's bad enough that 
all signs in Quebec have to be in French, now these fromage-heads are mucking with the spoken word. 
    I see that the honorable Libyan leader, Moamar Gadhafi was a guest of honour in SA. I'm sure I read somewhere that he is being hailed as the mastermind behind the horrendous Pan Am crash that killed hundreds. Geez, why don't they go the whole hog and exhume Idi Amin for reburial on the Grand Parade? Or what about a statue to Hitler on Signal Hill? 
    I think that's enough from me for one day. In any case, I have to soak my callouses and rest up my weary limbs after the nightmare of last week. 
    Hope to hear from you real soon. Meantime, as always, take care and please stay safe. 
Love 
ColinD