The Last Chinese Dynasty

A lot of people have been bugging me to see our Chinese sideboard, and I think I've made you wait long enough. So, to finish the month, here it is.

Please read about our trip to the warehouse here.

Yesterday the mail came. Okay, the mail doesn't only come on Thursdays. Let me rephrase: Yesterday, we got some mail. We have a mail slot in the window frame of our garage window. The mail gets pushed through the slot, and falls into a basket. When we get home, we go into our garage to get the mail.

Within our pile of mail yesterday was the Certificate of Antiquity for our "Beijing Buddha", from Kuda Furniture. It was written on October 17, 2004, and stated that our cabinet was 120 years old and made of elm. I am sure they didn't pinpoint the exact year to 1884, but that's the number I'll use from now on.

Since our cabinet is from the 1880's, it was therefore created during the Qing Dynasty, which began in 1644 and ended in 1911 with the fall of the Manchus. I'm not sure what happened between 1912 and 1949 in China, but there was civil war during some or all of those years. Whatever was happening, it all ended on October 1, 1949.

Fifty-six years ago tomorrow, Mao Zedong stood before an enormous gathering at Tiananmen Square and declared China to be communist, creating a national central government of the People's Republic of China. In the past there has been tragedy and controversial activities by the Chinese army surrounding events at Tiananmen Square, particularly the student protests of 1989. But tomorrow is much different.

Tomorrow, October 1, China celebrates National Day followed by a week-long parade of national pride.

Invasion

The invasion has begun, and I'm not talking about CTV's new show, Invasion.

My invasion is a little different than the one Wednesday nights at 10:00 p.m. Mine is ants, and it started yesterday. Were you confused by that brown blob in my photo? Well, look at it again. Those are ants. Not hundreds. Not thousands. Not even millions. I did a quick calculation and estimated there to be exactly eleventy billion and two ants on my driveway. If you don't trust me, go ahead and count. I'll wait.

I should point out that there is one big similarity between my invasion and CTV's show of the same name. They're both really boring to watch. The ants on my driveway did nothing but crawl over each other for hours. And, likewise, absolutely nothing seems to be happening on CTV's 1 hour sci-fi show too.

After two episodes, I'm already sick of the show. I love alien movies and TV shows, but this one has failed to live up to the hype. The premiere should have grabbed me and pulled me in like the Enterprise's Tractor Beam. But someone in Engineering must have reversed the plasma flow, because it has done the exact opposite, and pushed me away. I doubt I will hang around for the 3rd boring episode.

This morning I noticed that my mass of ants were gone, probably scooped up by the local homeless Anteater, Gerald. I'm kind of hoping that the same thing will happen with this dull new TV show. Maybe I will wake up one morning and notice it's been pulled due to lack of viewership. And maybe then the show's producers will learn that you need good writers, and not just a good theme or idea to pull off a great show.

My Nightmares

This time of year I start having nightmares.

The nightmares I have are not typical. I do not dream of falling, or being chased. I never dream of monsters "getting" me, or being unable to scream or run. My nightmares are different. I wake up in a panic, clammy and upset, thinking I have missed Halloween.

My life always seems to get out of control in autumn, and it is reflected in my dreams. There is so much going on in the fall, that I often dream that I've slept right through Halloween. Sometimes I wake up screaming "Noooo!" and punching my pillow.

That is why, this year, I have broken my tradition of waiting until October 1st to start unpacking my Rubbermaid containers. I started last night! I have seven Rubbermaids packed full of severed heads, arms, hands and feet, candles, skeletons, skulls, spiders, animated gravestones, one real gravestone, and various other creepy goodies. In fact, I have so much Halloween stuff (most of it impossible to buy anymore) that I had to photograph and document everything for my insurance company.

This year I've planned something huge. I'm so worried about pulling off the Zombie Walk that I'm starting to have these nightmares again. I think that if I can get the house decorated before Thanksgiving (October 10th here in Canada), I'll be in a good place mentally, and the frightening dreams will stop.

And if I'm really lucky, I'll start dreaming of happy, calming things again, like my collection of severed heads on pikes.

Grocery Store Gold

Like an archeologist discovering a prehistoric ice-man frozen for thousands of years in a glacier, such was my joy on Sunday.

I scanned the ice cream section of our local Food Basics, ignoring the Skor and Rolo ice cream novelties. Then I came across something mysterious. A frozen block of ice. It called to me, and a chill entered my spine. Slow, like death, it crept up my vertibrae until it tickled my cerebellum and ignited a spark.

I chipped away the layer of frozen water. "Breyers" it said. With trembling hands I chipped more ice away to reveal the secret this box of ice cream held. It did not say "Naturally Flavoured". This was the real thing. I was so astounded to find the words "All Natural" that I freaked out, fumbled and eventually dropped the ice cream on the floor. Dozens of eyes looked my way. I didn't care.

When Breyers changed their ice-cream making process, I bitched about it. The new ice cream isn't very good. But the Canada Food Inspection Agency put too much pressure on them and their term "All Natural", forcing them to change the process, the ingredients, and the name.

"All Natural." Two simple words. They remind me of a short period of time when everything was good. 2004.

This box is the last of its kind. With the finishing of this ice cream comes the end of an era of deliciousness. I sadly choke down its contents each night, and wonder if there is another hidden treasure frozen in some lonely grocery store out there.

Chinese Treasures

Indiana Jones, eat your heart out. Almost.

Earlier in the week I wrote about going to Toronto. But I didn't say why. It's not a secret, but my blog got sidetracked by the O.P.P. As RainyPete pointed out, traffic to Toronto is a nightmare on the best days, so unfortunately, taking the DeLorean would've been a mistake.

The truth is, sticking with the Chinese theme, Suz and I were hunting for Chinese Furniture. And boy did we hit the jackpot.

After searching for 'Chinese Dynasty' at 183 Spadina, an address that does not exist, we found Kuda. We were blown away by the number of pieces this warehouse/showroom had. And they were phenomenal! Some of the pieces were newly made while others were new but made to resemble antique chinese pieces. But the real treasures were the actual antiques: sideboards, tables, dressers, chairs, etc.

We were looking for something like this 1890 Shanxi buffet table to go with our oriental-style chandelier. Read about the chandelier here.

This buffet was too red, so a fellow named Adam took us into the warehouse, which instantly reminded me of 'Raiders of the Lost Ark'. Crates and carefully wrapped antiques were piled high to the ceiling, just like the end of the movie, when the Ark was being stored. You had to step sideways to get through many of the narrow passageways, to find treasures that had not been seen by the public.

This is where we found the perfect sideboard, hidden away, down a dark passageway, almost grey with dust. Wiping it away revealed the gleaming dark wood, which has battled Father Time for 120 years.

We pick it up tomorrow!

If you're interested in Chinese or Indonesian-style furniture, antiques or reproduction, you must visit Kuda Furniture.

ZOOBOMBS!!!

AH, the sweet sound of Japanese Funky Hardcore.

I can't say enough about the Zoobombs, but at the same time, I don't want this to turn into a review of last night's concert at the Underground.

Suz and I got there early and were treated to a pre-show show while the band checked their sound levels. The two and a half songs they played were so good I would have been happy if that was the entire show. Since we were the only two there, it felt like the Zoobombs were putting on a private concert, just for us.

After the preliminary checks were done, baby Zoobomb came out to play. I don't know if this little toddler was a girl or boy, but baby Zoobomb was born to rock. Neither the hot lights or plethora of equipment frightened baby Zoobomb offstage. In fact, baby Zoobomb probably had more experience on stage than me!


The highlight of the sound check, however, was Don (vocals/guitar). After the levels were adjusted, they'd crank out a song, then Don would suddenly stop. After thinking for a second, he would say such memorable things as , "moh bass.... ...uhhh.....moh geetah.......hmm.....
....Ah! Moh keebohd."

Keyboards were Matta's territory. During the level check she was excruciatingly polite to the sound crew. She would raise her hand as though she were in school and say, "um, excuse me...." then point to her keyboard, then point to the ceiling. In Don's words, "Moh keebohd!"

When the adult Zoobombs actually took the stage it was a whole different story. Never in my limited live rock band experience have I seen such incredible energy and power. Bukka obliterated his drums with such hyper action, it did not seem possible for any human to move that fast. Matta elegantly pounded away on her keyboards, counterbalancing Moo's prodigous amounts of bass. Many songs climaxed with Don playing his guitar far above his head, like a champion and his well-deserved trophy.

Zoobombs, if you ever read this, thank you! Thank you for coming to Canada, to Ontario, and to the Underground. I cannot wait to see you again.

But the biggest thanks has to go to Suz, who allowed me to indulge in this bit of selfishness on our anniversary.

Busted

On Monday Suz and I went to Toronto, also known as T.O. or, even more stupidly, the T. Dot. I do not know who comes up with these silly names.

On our way there we encountered the ever-reliable O.P.P. (Ontario Provincial Police for you faithful American readers) making a sweet arrest on the side of the highway.

It was difficult to guess the precise and exact reason Randy Nutsack (Jimmy Dillnuts' cousin) was being arrested, but there's always the fun of guessing!

What's curious is that passenger door of Randy's BMW was wide open during the arrest. Was Randy the passenger? If so, what did he have in his possession that would make the O.P.P. arrest him? Did he have drugs? An unregistered firearm? Was there a warrant out on him? Maybe he wasn't even Randy! He stole Randy's identity!

My sister nearly had her identity stolen about 2 years ago. But it failed thanks to a very intelligent Sears clerk, one strange coincidence, and a helpful leprechaun. When my sister went into Sears to buy something, the clerk asked her if she wanted a Sears card. She said okay, and filled out the application. Then the clerk noticed that it was the exact same name and address that a MAN just tried to use only one hour earlier to acquire a Sears card. At first my sister was the identity-theft suspect. But a manager asked some hard questions and finally ascertained that my sister was the true beholder of her own identity, and it was the man who had tried to steal it from her.

That situation made me question identity theft. What if you decide to steal someone's identity? You rifle through all their garbage, steal their bank statements and receipts that have credit card numbers on them. Maybe you even make a fake I.D. for yourself, with your own picture.

Now, after all that hard work, what if you stole the identity of a criminal? I can tell you, with my luck, I'd accidentally steal the identity of some sacksucking dillhole murderer on the lam.

Chinese Moon Festival

Sunday was the Moon Festival, or the Mid-Autumn Festival, one of the most important Chinese events, similar to our Thanksgiving or Christmas celebrations.

The Moon Festival takes place when the moon is supposed to be at its biggest and brightest, and if you witnessed the moon on Sunday, you would probably agree that it was extraordinarily bright. In fact, it was so bright that I had to put on sunglasses just to take the garbage to the curb.

Families gather together and eat moon cakes, just like we would gather 'round the Thanksgiving turkey. During our first Moon Festival, under our Chinese-inspired chandelier, Suz and I shared a moon cake given to us the day before. On Saturday we had taken the DeLorean to visit Robert & Leuming, the previous owners of our new house. We were just planning on dropping off some mail, but we were invited inside to see the house, and it was incredible.

The Chinese hold gift-giving in high regard, and in that tradition Leuming very kindly gave us a moon cake to eat during the celebration. After we thanked them, we hopped in the D, and took our incredibly fancy cake home. The cake was dense, and could be held easily in the palm of one hand. It was so intricately detailed that I felt bad cutting it in half, and even worse eating, thus destroying it.

Chinese legend says that Chang Er, wife of Yi, flew to the moon after Yi had used his archery skills to shoot nine of the ten suns that withered our planet. And thank goodness he did! That kind of heat can probably melt bricks. I cannot imagine how high our electricity bill would be with our air conditioning trying to cope with that mess.

Mr. Sub Update

I forgot about Mr. Sub as the months quickly passed. Summer is changing to autumn, and I thought I'd better get this update posted before it starts to snow. The earliest snow I can remember happened on my birthday, in the middle of October. But I digress...

Back in July I posted about Mr. Sub's inappropriate new sign, which was quite hilarious. If you remember, the 'M' and the 'S' were both burned out, creating another word which had nothing to do with submarine sandwiches, and more to do with massage parlours.

A few weeks ago I decieded to re-visit the restaurant, and interview the people working that day.

When I entered, the first thing I did was order a foot-long Tuna sub. After some small-talk about green peppers, I inquired about the sign. "So I noticed your sign isn't working right. How long has it been burned out for?" The dude behind the counter replied, "That sign has been giving us trouble since the day we opened, about 2 years ago." I found that to be surprising. Why haven't I noticed it before? Probably because I don't usually drive by it at night, when it's lit up. He told me how they had the sign repaired many, many times, and each time the repairs didn't fix the problem.

"You know it says RUB, right?" I asked. He smiled. "Yeah, everybody's been talking about that. But tonight is the final test. It's supposed to be fully repaired, so it should be working tonight." He finished wrapping up my sub, his gold chains glinting in the sunshine.

I drove by a few nights later and noticed the bright red sign - it WAS working! I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate Mr. Sub for getting their sign fixed, and to thank all the Mr. Sub fans. Without you and your money, none of this would be possible.

Rice Krispies Konfusion

I love cereal. I absolutely friggin' LOVE cereal.

Every time I visit the U.S., I like to buy many boxes of strange cereal, or cereal we simply don't get in Canada anymore. Every now and then a new cereal comes out, and I like to try it. Kellogg's has introduced a new cereal, and I have to say it has, by far, the longest, and most confusing name a cereal could ever have. Boo on you Kellogg's!

Everybody has tried Rice Krispies right? I have always called it "Kellogg's Rice Krispies" and I'm not sure why. Maybe they specifcally marketed it that way when I was little - and it stuck. Kellogg's newest kreation doesn't go one step further than this, they go nine steps further, with a nine-word cereal title.

They couldn't just call it Rice Krispies Squares Cereal. No. First, Kellogg's presents the cereal to me, like a film: New Line Cinema Presents.... A Martini Production..... then they tell me the name of the cereal: Squares Cereal. And then they have to inform me that I have purchased the Chocolatey Marshmallow Flavour, as if there are other flavours available. Like Pink Flamingo Kiwi. Or Butternut Squash Squirrel.


Here it is:
Kellogg's Rice Krispies Presents... Squares Cereal, Chocolatey Marshmallow Flavour.

The name of this breakfast treat is absuredly long, and no kid I know could ever hope of coming close to remembering all the words without using cue cards or spending a few hours memorizing it. Even while writing this, I had to refer to the box a number of times to make sure I got the name kompletely korrect.

The cereal itself is very yummy. It does taste surprisingly similar to Rice Krispies Squares. My biggest surprise came when I read the ingredients. Kellogg's pounds you over the head with things like "Rice Krispies" and "Kellogg's Rice Krispies" and "Rice Krispies Squares" and even "Marshmallow " flavour. And it's all just a ruse! Why bother to make a cereal name so bloody long, just to mislead the trusting public?

There are no Rice Krispies in this cereal at all. It's made of corn.

Ferrari Dino

Ah, the Dino, named after Enzo Ferrari's son, who died of leukemia.

The Italian-themed festival we attended on the weekend had a Ferrari car show in front of the old theatre, where I took some shots of a Dino. Some of the supercars were new, some were old. Most were red. A few were yellow. Magnum P.I.'s 308 was there. Well, it wasn't really his. It actually belonged to Robin Masters, but Magnum was allowed to use it.

There are a number of auto afficionados, car-guys, motorcoach enthusiasts, wheels worshippers, automobile addicts, gas-guzzler gurus, motor vehicle devotees, car-crazy nut-jobs, and Ferrari freaks out there who think the Dino isn't a Ferrari. They think this because the Dino didn't have a scripty Ferrari badge, and because for the first few years it was equipped with a 2.4L V-6 engine.

But here's why they're wrong.

The number one reason why the Dino is a Ferrari, is because it was made by Ferrari. Seems logical, doesn't it? This particular Dino was a V8, and wore the badge: Ferrari Dino 308GT+4. It even has the little horsey on the grille, and we all know that little horseys are what make cars fast, right 1978 Ford Mustang?


While checking out this unusual Ferrari, I ran into one of my homies, P-dizzle. He was chillin' at the event, checking out the wheels as well. He knows the owners of this particular Dino and informed me that they used to use it as an everyday car, for work, groceries, vacations, everything.

Wow! Imagine taking your Ferrari to Costco just to quell your craving for Swedish Berries! Some things I'd like to do with a Ferrari: go to Canadian Tire for an oil change, Home Depot for a couple of propane tanks, and a Hyundai dealership to enquire about a trade-in. I'd also really love to buy an 8x6 area rug at Wal-mart, and try to hold the 'bonnet' shut with a bunch of rusty bungie cords. As everyone gathered around me to watch in horror, I'd just tell them "don't worry, it's not a real Ferrari. It's just a stupid Dino." I'm sure they'd all be relieved.

Tom Wilson Has a Potty Mouth

On the weekend Suz and I walked down the street to the 2nd Annual Italian-themed festival in our little spiderweb-shaped village, the first "planned community" in North America.

We went with our friend Dave Gould, and his daughter. I ran around searching for the organizer of this event, Mr. Dayler, to say hello, while the other members of my party enjoyed a round of mini-putt and some blue ice cream. You can't go wrong with blue food.

If you've never walked down the middle of a road, or sat in the middle of an intersection watching the lights change above your head, you're really missing something. I can't explain the feeling, but it is a good one. The lack of vehicular noise in the middle of a normally-busy road is eerie.

But the Italian-themed festival party didn't stay noise-free for long. Bob Lanois and Tom Wilson took to the stage and entertained us and the other festival-goers with some really great music. Live music, in my opinion, is the best kind of music. Live Polka kicks major ass. Studio-recorded music is typically perfect and therefore slightly boring. But it serves a purpose I guess.

But it's things like Tom Wilson's unexpected comments about the
"f*cking heat" and various other "f*cking" things, that make live entertainment just that much more exciting.

Conceding the Chandelier

When people ask me, "How's it hangin?" I will always answer, "a little to the right."

Suz and I bought a Kovacs chandelier for our new dining room. We searched every lighting store from here, almost to the T Dot, and we couldn't find anything oriental, or oriental-inspired. So we began searching online, and ended up finding something incredibly perfect in the most Chinese place imaginable - Minnesota. Two weeks later, UPS, those dudes in spiffy brown shorts, delivered it to us.

This chandelier, although wonderfully silky and just-what-we-wanted, has turned into the bane of my existence. I have fought with this chandelier to the point of both mental and physical exhaustion. No matter what I try, the bloody thing will not hang straight.

I would expect this kind of poor workmanship from a $50 Wal-mart light fixture, but not from a designer who has hundreds of light fixtures hanging in museums worldwide.

Unless, of course, they're museums displaying the best crooked chandeliers in the world.

The Stealth DeLorean

Sitting almost 5 inches lower and 6 inches wider than a 2005 Corvette, you would think my DeLorean would get noticed. You'd be surprised.

Some people notice it right away. Others don't.

The people who notice are amusing. They suddenly stop paying attention to the road. They point. They wave. They grab their girlfriend by the head and crank her neck in the appropriate direction to get a glimpse of the stainless steel wonder. After I pass, they're off to the hospital.

There are also screamers. Like the cyclist who nearly fell off his bike. After a quick double-take, he slammed on his brakes, pulled a 180, and rode right back yelling "HOLY SH*T, it's a DeLorean! Holy sh*t! I can't believe it! You've got a DeLorean! Holy sh*t! HOLY SH*T! There's a DeLorean in front of me!" After a brief conversation about the car, he asked us to do him just one favour: Open the doors. We did, to his immeasurable joy.

Then there are the select few who are clueless. Like the gas station attendant the other evening. I pulled up in front of the station window, beside another patron, and began pumping gas. We both went inside to pay. We talked about the car. He asked me what year it was. "1981" I answered. We talked some more. He signed his receipt, said goodbye, and left.

Now it was time for the attendant to shine. "So, what kind of car is that?" I told him it was a DeLorean. His reply was priceless, "I wasn't born yet, so I dunno what that is." Well, I wasn't born in 1908, but I still know what a Model T Ford is.

Despite being in 3 blockbuster movies, despite being made of gorgeous stainless steel, despite the gullwing doors and ultra-low stance, there are still people who have no idea. And sometimes that's nice -- to stealthfully slip through an intersection unnoticed, not having to stop and answer dozens of questions, to which, incidentally, I have all the answers.

Yay Beck!

It's always fun when Suz's sis visits. (Left side)

On the weekend, her sister and parents stayed with us. Suz's mom was even in the car with her when the accident happened all around them.

But they weren't really visiting us. Our home was just a stopover. Beck is on her way to Whitehorse. 'What's in Whitehorse' you ask? They've got it all, including Tim Hortons and even Starbucks. I doubt there are hot dog vendors outside the local Canadian Tire, but I'm sure you can purchase a disease-wienie somewhere. It's not the first time she's been so far north. She lived in Iqaluit for a year, doing heartwarming, and heartbreaking stories for CBC radio.

When she's visiting us, though, the mood definitely lightens. Every picture of Suz and her sis look just like this.

One of the best things is how Beck always makes me feel like a teenager again, by introducing me to really great music. The kind of stuff I listened to a decade ago. Radical stuff. Stuff that usually doesn't get airplay. But on this visit, for the first time, she didn't have anything to share with me. However, we did crank Holla Back Girl! and I secretly video-taped Beck dancing wildly in the kitchen.

I think it would be very cool to visit her up in that Yukony area. I always seem to forget that we have a couple of big cities way up near Santa. Real cities, with big buildings, and lots of people. And they're Canadians, just like me. Only colder.

Jimmy Dillnuts, You Rascal

We had a visit from the Police on the weekend, all thanks to the wreckless driving of one Jimmy Dillnuts. This time, Jimmy is in hot water.

On Saturday my wife, Suz, was eyewitness to Jimmy's reign of destruction. Unfortunately I was not in the car with her, and I therefore did not get any pictures of the carnage.

Although a day early (Jimmy Dillnuts always seems to cause accidents on Sundays), Jimmy still came through with flying colours.

The scene: Suz stopped at a red light with Jimmy Dillnuts hot on her tail. Jimmy didn't seem to like the fact that Suz obeys the law. Multiple eyewitnesses declared that he accelerated up to approximately 100 kph (double the posted limit) and swerved around her. By the time he got to the red lights, two boys were already halfway across the street, walking in the crosswalk. Other cars were already in the middle of the intersection, waiting for the two boys to cross so they could make their left-hand turns.

Jimmy didn't care.

He blasted right past the boys, narrowly missing them. He plowed straight into the car turning left, and sent it flying into another car sitting at a red light on the opposite side of the intersection. When all three vehicles came to rest, people were screaming, people were crying.

People came upon the scene and asked "what happened?" and "whose fault was this?" Everybody pointed to the red Ford Explorer and said "That guy ran the red." Even Jimmy's parents stumbled upon the accident and were thoroughly embarrassed by these answers.

Victims of Jimmy's lunacy were taken by Ambulance to local hospitals. When the area was clear, Suz gave her name to police, and came home.

A few hours later a police officer came to visit us, in order to get a written statement from Suz. She wrote the details down on the form provided by the officer. He read her description, and asked her some questions. She answered the questions.

The police usually charge the person turning left with Impeding the Intersection. But the officer told us how surprised he was to see that all the statements he had taken said the exact same thing - the Ford Explorer ran the red. Unfortunately, because of the strange circumstances, with one car turning left, he said this will likely go to court, and Suz will have to testify to what she witnessed. He told us there were a number of injuries, with the most serious being a girl with a broken collarbone. And then as swifly as he came, officer 863 disappeared.

Jimmy's Goin' To Court! Yeeee-Haw!

To the Judge: If you don't take away Jimmy's licence, the person he kills could be you.

We're Number 1

Ontario is number 1, to be precise. Number 1 in North America. Number one for what? Best Living Standards? Tops in Steel Production? Best Canadian Major League Baseball Team? Nope.

We are number 1 for Rabies. Number 1 in the Western Hemisphere! Now that is something to be proud of. We used to be number 1 in the world, but were surpassed by India in 2000. Dang! On the entire planet earth, only India has a higher number of rabid animals than us. We rule! The Western hemisphere, anyway.

And why not? If you're going to be good at something, why not be the best? As Master Yoda would say, "Do, or do not. There is no try."

And so our little krit-bros had to have their rabies shots, as per the annual agreement with our vet, forced upon us by the Ontario government. I don't mind. Rabies shots makes kitties safe. It's especially important in Ontario, where every other squirrel is tearing through your screen door, raccoons are attacking polar bears and hummingbirds are foaming at the beak.

We killed two birds with one stone by getting the Advantage flea control pills on the same vet visit. She also smeared some "Fleas-Take-Off-Eh?" onto the back of little Doobie's head, thus, giving her the radical kitty-mohawk.

Doobie is starting a punk band. To anyone who planned on attending her first show, it has been postponed due to her backup singers all getting rabies.

Scooped!

Jodster has beaten me to it. He's got reporter-like reflexes I suspect. His post on this same subject went up earlier this morning.

We stumbled across this set the other day, where CTV was filming their new comedy series, Jeff Ltd. Jodster and I stood side-by-side snapping pictures while actors walked around outside of Kazem's Carpet Kingdom wearing fish helmets. Yeah. Fish helmets.

CTV is producing the 1/2-hour comedy show along with The Comedy Network. The new series will appear on both stations. They're aiming for a December start, but we may not see the new show until January.

One of the scenes had characters chasing a camel up a nearby street. I wonder where that camel came from. Canada doesn't have a great climate for camels. I doubt the old girl curls up in front of sombody's fireplace on grey November days. So where did it come from? L.A.? That's a long truck ride. But I guess they could make up time since they didn't need to stop for a drink.

If you're interested in camels, check this out. If you're interested in the Sopwith Camel, go here. If you're interested in this new TV show, check out JPTH International. Jodster has links coming out his wazoo. But no links to wazoos. Sorry.