I spent most of last week talking to The Gazette, the Hour, CTV News and a number of University students who wanted to write for their respective school papers. In fact, with the exception of The Suburban, I pretty much spoke to everyone. I abstained from talking to the latter because, in all honesty, I've never liked their 'doom and gloom' style of reporting and knew right off the bat what angle they would choose to take with this particular story. My instincts served me right and nothing in their coverage surprised me in the least.
However, I did chuckle at the reporters' not so subtle insinuation that Transcontinental had placed a gag order on me, when in fact, the very same day their article appeared in print, my interview with Tara Schwartz was being televised on CTV's 6 o'clock and 11 o'clock news! Oh well… so much for that.
The toughest thing, however, about my new editorial duties and the ongoing transition have been the fact that it has temporarily left me very little time to write. But that will soon be rectified as things fall into place and I can, once again, focus on local editorials.
In the meantime, I have been taking care of business this week (you'll notice that a lot of local news and community stories were assigned and placed online immediately), but I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I had been waiting for the moment to sit down in front of my computer and finally have my moment to rant, because, let's face it, it's what I do best.
First off, poor Michael Phelps gets caught smoking a bong at a private party and some opportunistic schmuck decides it's payday, snaps a pic of the momentous occasion and sends it around town to a number of publications until one of them bites. The Golden Boy immediately gets dethroned and a nation of glass house dwellers start throwing rocks at this 23-year-old kid who just a few months ago won eight gold medals at the Olympics for his country. I'm not saying that what Phelps did was smart, but come on! He didn't rob a bank; he just got caught smoking pot and letting loose during his off-season. Let's give him a break already! As for the phony indignation from cereal-maker Kellogg's, who decided not to renew Phelps' contract, because, according to their spokesperson, "his behaviour was not consistent with their company image", spare me. This is, after all, a company that was founded by a guy who believed in coffee enemas and exercising in an athletic diaper. Ah, how easily we forget, Kellogg's…How easily we forget…
Picasso's bites the dustWhen Bram Eisenthal emailed me early last week to file his weekly column and let me in on the news that St. Jacques eatery Serre Picasso had abruptly closed its doors, the memories came flooding back. Back in my early 20s, a Saturday night out clubbing downtown wouldn't be complete without a 3 a.m. pit stop at Picasso's for one of their gargantuan breakfasts (usually specials #2 or #3). Space was never an issue and the prices… well, the prices were just what a broke student was looking to pay. "Picasso's warns you. It's TOO MUCH!" How many of you remember that line?
The thing is, as sad as I was to hear about the news and as hard as I tried, I couldn't remember the last time I had gone there for breakfast. As I got older, my habits changed and my preferences, as well. I suspect that the same thing happened to many of you out there, as well.
Picasso's was huge, way too big to make it a cheap place to operate and times are tough. People are watching their money a little more, not going out as often and St. Jacques needs some sprucing up. I suppose it was inevitable that it would happen.
Mike Cohen's comment that Les Amazones strip club downstairs from Picasso's has continued to do brisk business, made me laugh out loud and shake my head in agreement. It brought to mind a recent on-air interview I had conducted with Corby CEO, Con Constandis, for CJNT. I had inquired if the financial crisis had affected the distillery at all and he had quickly replied that some businesses are simply recession resilient. I suspect that the same can be said for the exotic dancing business, which would explain why building owner Peter Sergakis opted to sell the restaurant years ago, but chose to hold on to the one business that had… legs. Pun intended.
R.I.P. Picasso's! For many of us West Enders, you will always be associated with youthful memories of after-hour noshing and lazy weekends. A place where you never had to wait in line to be seated, parking was never an issue and you always took a look around to see who had potentially come up to eat some food, after choosing to forego the buffet downstairs.
