London Proud of 'Participant' Ribbon in Earth Hour Competition

Although Toronto reduced its electrical consumption by 8.7 per cent and the national average was a five per-cent reduction, Jay Stanford, London's director of environmental services told the London Free Press that he was "quite pleased" with the Forest City's TWO per-cent drop electrical useage during this weekend's Earth Hour activities.

Stanford was also heard on London radio stations Monday morning bragging about London's showing in the national Earth Hour competitions, pointing out that our showing was something to be "proud of" for a first effort - even though we came in last place.

In a man-on-the-street interview, Robert Pegg of Becher Street, located near the downtown core, told the Sonny Drysdale Media Empire that he personally took part in the Earth Hour celebrations. "It's as good an excuse as any for a party," Pegg explained. "It's just as valid a reason to drink warm beer by candle-light as Robbie Burns Day - or the season finale of 'The Hills" for that matter."

Pegg also commented on the fact that the government-owned Middlesex County Courthouse downtown at the Forks of the Thames was lit up as usual "brighter than Buckingham Palace" while he and his friends took a lantern-lit stroll through the neighbourhood.

However, Pegg noted that although most of the other houses in his neighbourhood were "dark" during Earth Hour, he wasn't surprised by the mere two per-cent reduction in electrial useage during that time. "Well, you gotta remember, this is a town where people come to retire and then die. On a Saturday night, most people are in bed about 8:30. You're in London, man."

Jay Stanford, when contacted by the S.D.M. Empire, reiterated that London should be "darn proud of a very good first effort." Mayor Anne Marie backed up Stanford saying that "Londoners have once again put their best foot forward on the fight against Global Warming."

When the official figures were released Sunday afternoon, Jay Stanford's Dad told everyone that "the important thing is not whether you win or lose in an Earth Hour contest, but whether you did your best - and had fun! There are NO losers when it comes to saving the Earth."

He then took all of London to Dairy Queen for ice-cream.

Man Unable to Get Laid During Earth Hour

International playboy Dwight Schmidlapdt failed to get laid yesterday during Earth Hour celebrations held at the late Hugh Hefner's Playboy Mansion in Los Angeles.

"This is sure to be a sure thing," Schmidlapdt reportedly told friends on the Jet Set circuit prior to the event. "I mean, think about it - candle-light, big fireplaces - and all those bunnies running around half-naked freezing their fluffy little tails off, just hoping to warm up next to the ol' Schmidlapdter in a hot-tub. C'mon - how can it go wrong?"

According to guests, it all went wrong for Schmidlapdt shortly after his arrival at stately Hef Manor. Carrying a candle, he accidently spilled melting wax on Bono's new suede jacket.

He then fell asleep in the hot-tub listening to Al Gore tell all bunnies within groping distance how they could feel the temparature "rise" if they touched his "jet stream." When the resulting tsunami woke Schmidlapdt, he knocked his candle over which started his terry-cloth robe on fire. The resulting cold-water sprinklers considerably dampened the spirits of Gore who then ordered him out of the hot-tub - "by Presidential decree."

Schmidlapt was later seen standing next to Elizabeth May at the bar, looking deeply into her eyes and repeatedly telling her, "I hope this hour never ends."

However, Playboy bunny Yvonne Cooperman believes that Scmidlapdt officially blew it after downing his sixth Corona. "He then stationed himself outside the Bunnies' powder room and whenever one of the girls would go in or come out, he'd ask them -"Hey, who's a guy gotta fuck around here to end Global Warming?"

Cooperman reports that Schmidlapdt left empty-handed before Earth Hour was even over.

Upon arriving home, however, his hands did not remain empty for long. Four minutes and two 'Playmate of the Month' You-Tube videos later, Schmidlapdt said ten "Hail Mary"s and pledged forty carbon points to replace Bono's suede jacket.

Overheard in the Likka Sto'

"Oh my, I don't know what to get - everything looks so good."

As spoken by a little old lady on apparently her first trip to one of the 'new' Liquor Control Board Outlets. One of those remodel L.C.B.O. stores where you don't have to write in the number of your desired bottled purchase in pencil on a piece of paper and hand it to the guy behind the counter who then goes back behind the metal door and then brings it back and wraps it up in paper for you.

A package from the 'package store.'

... And now David Peterson is making election promises about selling wine and beer in corner stores. We've come a long way, baby.

Question for Arthur C. Clarke

Now that you're gone - Will we dream, Art?

Man Fails to Get Laid on St. Patty's Day

Middle-aged Dwight Schmidlapdt expressed surprise after not getting laid yesterday at the annual Saint Patrick's Day Dance and Pot-Luck held at the Northern Ireland Community Centre on the 14th Concession in Lucan.

Schmidlapdt, an eighth-generation Canadian showed up for the event at noon wearing a white-and-black T-shirt featuring a cartoon of a back-yard compost and the slogan "Kiss Me - I'm Green."

He was also wearing a kilt he had rented specially for the occassion, knee-high black socks and no underwear. Schmidlapdt was carrying a pot of his homemade haggis. "Admission to the dance was free if you brought a dish," explained the naturally tight-fisted accountant. "If you watch your pennies, the dollars will watch out for themselves."

Yvonne O'Cooperman, who also attended the celebration for Ireland's patron saint, said that initially people were accepting of Schmidlapdt's lack of Irishness. "We get a lot of non-Irish in here - and that's fine. As we are wont to say, everyone is Irish on March 17th."

"But with the more Glennfiddich this guy knocked back, he quickly began to get on peoples' nerves," she continued.

According to O'Cooperman, the trouble started shortly after Schmidlapdt stationed himself outside the women's washroom, then asking "Hey lassie, how'd you like to chase the snake out of my pants?" to everyone who went in.

But tensions got bad after he began shouting requests while The Molly Bloomin' Assholes (a Pogues cover band,) were playing. "He started yelling out for 'Red Red Rose,' " said O'Cooperman.

As ten guys named Casey and Doyle began to beat him up, calling him a "no-account Scottish skin-flint sissy-boy," Schmidapdt reportedly tried to save himself by loudly proclaiming, "I'm not Scottish - I'm French!" And that's when the beating intensified.

Two hours later, sitting in the emergency ward of London's Grace Hospital, bruised and bleeding from the boxing to his ears, Schmidlapdt contemplated the events of the afternoon and did some philosphical soul-searching.

"I don't know where I went wrong," the long-time bachelor told reporters. "I was sure I would be getting lucky today. So much for that famous 'luck of the Irish.' I couldn't even get laid on their national holiday."

Schmidlapdt then brightened. "But don't you worry about me. Easter is just around the corner and I plan on being in Jerusalem by the weekend. Just think of it, I'll be in the spiritual home of Catholics on Good Friday.

"And there will be all these school-girls in their school uniforms with those plaid skirts - and they'll be all sad and depressed. Good Friday is the day Jesus got killed, you know.

"And when they need a shoulder to cry on - well, sure n' begorrah, the old Schmidlapter will be right there for them."

"How can it go wrong?"

Brian Jones - Artist, Friend, Most Hep Cat to Have Left Town

born - June 1, 1950, Chatham, Ont.

points in between - London, Ont. - 15 years or so; Toronto, 10 years or so.

gone away - February 27, 2008, Collingwood, Ont.

Yo, Death - Take a Holiday!

Got Paxton's ashes back the other day. The same day that my 'Gilbert O'Sullivan's Greatest Hits' arrived in the mail courtesy of the good people at Amazon. There are certain CDs you feel toooo embarrassed to purchase in public.

So after being completely devastated a week earlier, I was now in the mood to just sit down, put on 'Alone Again (Naturally)' and feel sorry for myself. And man, I just wallowed in it. There's a lot to be said for the healing power of self-pity.

But a couple of days of constant Gilbert O'Sullivan will either make you better or do you in. I chose Life. As in, time to get on with it. I miss my dog all the time, I keep looking over where his ashes sit in his chair but it's time to move on. So I hit the FWD button on the CD player to the song after 'Clair' and try to get funky with 'Get Down.'

... and speaking of moving on, I went to a funeral yesterday. Mavis' Uncle Bruce died. 89 years old. I met the guy maybe three times in my life. Never had a conversation with him but I liked his kids. If a man can be judged by the quality of the children he and his wife raise, then I guess Bruce was probably a good guy.

But the day before was a real punch in the gut when I pick up my morning paper to find out that former London artist Brian Jones died two days before at the age of 57. That's not much older than myself. Pancreatic cancer. And it sounds like he was diagnosed with it only a month before.

You know, I believe in God and Jesus and all that stuff but there are certain things in life that are SO F_%$#!?!@#$!!!_ing unfair, that well, let's just say that if I ever get up there, God's going to have a LOT to answer for. And I think we'll start with mental retardation. And then maybe an explanation for why you would put a small heart in the body of a big dog like a Great Dane. And why bestow acne on teenagers at the most self-conscious time of their lives. And why bother to bless guys like me with really big feet and yet not equip us with comparable sized brains?

But I don't want to turn this into a Rant. So let's instead pay tribute to this Brian Jones fellow. I kinda knew the guy in the 1980s. We didn't keep in touch after he moved to Toronto about 15 years ago but for a while during his London years, I can actually claim that he was a friend of mine.

My introduction to the man with with his first one-man show at the old art gallery when it was overtop the old library downtown. "Neighbours," the painting at the top of this post sums up that exhibition. I walked in, out of the blue - and as someone who doesn't know anything about Art, but know what I hate - I fell in love. After close to five years of living in this town - and hating it - I looked at those walls and at some of the paintings you will see below and thought to myself - "WOW!
Someone else in this town actually GETS it!"

And that's when I finally started to actually LIKE this town. A couple years later I read a book set in London and Vancouver by a young lad named Herman Goodden and I had the same feeling. Deja vu. Lord knows, I can't stand the idiots that are in charge and the professional glad-handers who put out the daily news and if I really did want to live in a town that honestly does give a shit about its heritage I'd be living in Stratford or St. Marys (or fukkin' Toronto, for that matter,) but that Brian Jones show back in 1978 was the first time I felt I belonged here.

I tell ya, personally speaking - that show was f'in' mindblowing. I stood in the middle of that room and felt like I was stoned. The next day, I got stoned and went back. The day after that I took Mavis and showed her.

Eventually, our paths crossed. In the sort of way that can only happen when you happen to be a young writer and that's as good a business card as any to get to know people you are interested in but wouldn't necessarily run into in your own social circle.

I was a bit of a fan-boy. And still am. To this day, although Alberto Vargas is my all-time favorite artist, Brian Jones is my second favorite. I'll put Christopher Pratt and Jack Chambers as tied for number 3 until someone better comes along. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I had a 'Man-crush' on him - but the photo from that one-man gig showed a mop-topped young lad who could have been one of the Beatles. And a combination of the 'cute' one and the 'serious' one. Certainly, he WAS undeniably attractive. But then, all of my male companions are. Even Butch. Or Pops, for that matter.

And we struck up a friendship of sorts. Because I try not to be TOO much of a fan-boy in the person's presence. "Wow, and you REALLY know Charles Nelson Reilly?!?" ... I mean, I don't act the way Sammy Davis does around Frank Sinatra or like Kid Dork when he's hanging out with Dick Sprang. Besides we had certain things in common - like growing up on Detroit television. And 'Leave It to Beaver.'

As far as artists go, I've never come across a less pretentious fellow. Before he came here to take the special two-year Art course at Beal Secondary - he spent his high-school years in Chatham as a 'tech' student - taking 'Shop' - which back in those days meant, woodworking, drafting and auto-mechanics. And gym.

But after Beal, he became quite successful very fast at a rate that seldom happens in this town - only a matter of years as opposed to decades - and he took it all in stride. I don't know how seriously he was taken by the Forest City Gallery crowd - after all, he had committed the cardinal sin - he was not only able to make a full-time living as a 'young' artist, (meaning WITHOUT a Canada Council grant,) but even worse, he was popular. With EVERYONE! Respected 'Art' critics and the great-unwashed all responded positively to the man's imagination.

Anyway, he's gone and it's very sad and especially heartbreaking for his wife and family. But in the few posts below, you will find a tribute to the man. Feel free to look, click on and enlarge and then say 'Wow.'

This is Where I Live

My front yard. My backyard.

The backyard painting was actually chosen by the 'Save the Children' charity group as their Christmas card. What I'd give for a box of them. I love the way all those little garages almost too small for one car are at the end of each backyard. I used to have the same kind of view in my own backyard until some idiot three doors down put up a twelve-foot high wooden privacy fence.

As for 'Raking Leaves' (you can see a watercolour of it quite often in the Big Blue Art Gallery at the Forks of the Thames,) - when I encountered this during my first visit to Brian Jones' first one-man show at the old Art Gallery when it was on the second floor of the old downtown library, this is the painting that spoke to me immediately - "You are NOT alone."

About five years later, on my first visit to the study of Herman the German, I was flipping through one of his scrap-books and there was a cut-out of this very same painting. Underneath was Herm's self-penned caption - "The Soul of London."

Post Art School

Tiffins Market on King Street and snow and clouds on what may be a '69 Camaro.

There's This - and there's This

Okay - this is one of the reasons I'm not good at blogging. I don't know how to cut&paste and how to upload in proper sequence. So bear in mind that all the commentary written below follows the opposite of the order in which the above art works are in. In other words - first is last and last is first and the one in the middle is the one in the middle. I hope.

anyhoo, ... Not sure, but I think this is called 'Summer of '52' and done in the early 1970s - post-graduation from the Beal Art program. It's one of the first of many of the paintings he would do based on snapshots taken from the family photo album and yes, that is him pushing the toy lawn-mower.

And then we have 'Father and Son,' this being a pencil drawing you can occassionally see on display at the Big Art Gallery at the Forks of the Thames. Another of those posed family photos, it's from a very brief period where the 'Neighbours' style was merging with the 'realism.' I love the way those people are being swallowed up in those huge coats. And look at the detail of that fence and the pebbles on the ground. You know, if it wasn't for those small heads, you'd swear you were looking at a photograph.


I don't really have anything to say about this last one of the guy bursting through the door to get out of the cold. Other than it's cool. I like it.

Hey, that's ME !!!

My Fave all-time painting

An oil on board, it's a painting of the sidewalk outside his home in the late 1970s on Lockyer Street, a little one-block street tucked behind the Hyland Cinema and all the houses are of that red rug-brick 'between the wars' variety. I live in such a house and know that view very well from sitting on the steps to my own porch. The cracked sidewalk, the early morning sunlight, the still remaining bits of dew on every one of those individual blades of grass.

When telling the man how much I loved this particular painting, he reminded my that it's all about the lighting and that "It's not a painting of a sidewalk, per se."

And you know something, "per se" is the only 'artsy' thing I ever heard come out of the guy's mouth.

This painting was done in the mid-1980s. He eventually stopped doing the 'realism' paintings altogether so he could concentrate on the 'Neighbours' style paintings. And when you think about it, why not? He summed up everything you need to know about life in this rendering of one of those quiet moments in one's existance right here.

something for the heritage buffs

He was no snob, architecturally speaking. If the light was right, he painted it. If it was a cool neighbourhood, all the better.

Here we have two watercolours from the late 1980s. 'Locust Mount' WAS one of the finest of the old homes in the downtown area. Now it's a bulldozed pile of rubble after the property owner deliberately let it fall apart after renting it out as a frat house and then turning the lease over to transients who 'accidently' burned it down. Only in London.

The other is a view of Lambeth Ave., home of my favorite sci-fi novelist and blogger extraordinaire. It's a working stiff neighbourhood and probably more recognizable to most South Londoners as - "that street you go down after picking up a bucket at K.F.C. and you don't want to wait forever while trying to make a left-hand turn onto Wharncliffe."

Later Stuff

Actually, these were probably done in the late 1990s.

I always have felt that the mark of a great artist is the ability to make the viewer want to jump - nay, dive - right into the painting. He's done it here.

... to see more recent works by Brian Jones, check out his page at www.lochgallery.com and gibsongallery.com ... ever the humble, modest type, the guy didn't even have his own web-site. What you will find in his later paintings are works that are bursting with bright colours and joy.

Highly recommended viewing. Enjoy.