 In the light of the $78-million price tag attached to the royal wedding, mainly attributed to British taxpayers, and due to its potential cost of $47 billion to Britain’s economy, I must state the obvious: It’s entirely unfair that celebrities have to pay for their own weddings, and dare I say, their own homes too.
Now, before you get your knickers in a bunch, allow me to explain…
As with many markets around the world, the British have been subjects of an historically feeble economy. High unemployment, a weak consumer, and rising inflation, all crave one thing: a strong investment.
 What company can turn news of consumer price increases into constant nationwide news-mercials that leave anchors and viewers yearning for a donut and a double double?
Hint: Its business name is missing an apostrophe (and some would argue a dollar sign too).
Yes. Tim Hortons. Or perhaps, more grammatically - and realistically - appropriate: Tim Horton’$.
For the past couple weeks Canada’s coffee shop has warned (or brilliantly advertised) of its four per cent price increase effective April 11, 2011.
 Election time is upon us, and I’m actually looking forward to another federal vote. It'll be cool to see the biggest garbage in the world, when we dump $300 million into it.
In honour of the big event, I’ve decided to set aside my pinko lefty ways (Don Cherry’s and Archie Bunker’s words – not mine), and promise to vote for ANY party that follows my simple guidelines. More on that in a bit...
Quite frankly, though the mainstream parties in Canada run the left-centre-right gamut, they are each just slight variations of the other.
 Happy birthday to me! Today, I finally turn one. Well, my dot com alter ego that is. And, in honour of this milestone (or kilometrestone to my fellow Canadians), I would like to give a special gift - which may involve you. But, before I get to that... One year ago, after some serious inspiration from the late Matt Cook, and after a serious car accident, in which I flirted with my expiration date, I accidentally started this Web site ( which you can read about in my first post) and re-started my writing career. As modest a goal as it may sound, I want to change the world. So, rather than compete in a beauty pageant, I write. (That, and when it comes to the swimsuit portion, my articles look great in bikinis.)
 You want to know what happens when schools, parents, and communities don’t do anything about bullying? One of three things:
1. The victim to the bullying endures horrible physical, emotional, and/or mental suffering;
2. The victim to the bullying either goes on shooting rampages or commits suicide, as we’ve sadly learned, or rather, finally acknowledged this year; and,
3. The victim to the bullying fights back, because no one else protects him, only to face punishment.
Which brings me to the story of a 16-year-old Australian boy who rightly deserves to trump Justin Bieber as the new teen dream.
 In 1989, the House of Commons made a resolution to achieve the goal of eliminating child poverty among Canadian children by the year 2000. In 2010, an act to eliminate poverty in Canada was introduced into the House of Commons. What a difference over two decades can make. At least one in nine children in this country live in poverty, while one in every four children in First Nations’ grow up in it. Today, health ministers from across Canada collectively announced that we must wait until November 2011 to find out what they intend to do about childhood obesity. What they fail to note, is that it is one of poverty’s heaviest problems.
 The other night, much of the world was oblivious to the horrible suffering endured by 1 billion people, and I'm not talking about the poor and disenfranchised. I’m talking about the estimated worldwide audience that watched the Oscars telecast … In hopes of conquering such strife, back in February, I called for a metaphoric colon cleanse of society - “ Fodder-Free February.” The mission was a month-long moratorium on famous people who are well suited for passing through our bowels. It would be a month free of banal celebrity gossip. (Luckily, I chose the shortest month of the year.)
 When I was five years old, I wanted to marry a rabbi or a shoe salesman when I grew up. A rabbi, perhaps because I’m Jewish (I really don’t remember why), and a shoe salesman, because, d’uh, I’m Shoeish. From the time I was little, I was already very left wing socio-politically. I may never have been statistically the right height for my age, but as a child, I was not usually my actual age either. Every time I saw a homeless person, I was confused. How are there not enough places for people to live? Every time I met a fat kid, he’d become my best friend. How could others be so mean to him? Every time I could get my little brother in trouble for climbing out of his crib, I would. How could a big sister not be even a little bit mean to her baby brother?
 Do sagging boobs equate to a sagging economy? Today, many news outlets are reporting that plastic surgery is rebounding with the economy. In other words, as jobs grow, so do breast sizes. It certainly stands to reason that there are growing opportunities to work at Hooters. The breastaurant has shown that any economy can support inflation, or inflated chests, as it were. After opening shop in China, the Philippines, Singapore, South Korea, Taiwan, and most recently Japan, Hooters is not only recession-proof, but is proving successful, in many ways.
 It was the most revolutionary social movement, since the chip hit the fan, in the wake of a chip company’s noisy but environmentally friendly bag. The other day, a small group of users on a social media site, created a social mediament, as it were, and managed to put an end to female exploitation. Sort of…
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