Rose's Cantina

I woke up in the middle of the night, as I sometimes do, in an agitated state worrying that the neighbors might firebomb my garage after I ratted them out to bylaw. I ratted them out to bylaw because they are running some kind of illegal operation, either a business or a school, which requires at least a hundred minivans to pull up a day and block my driveway. You might ask: why don't you go and talk to them directly? The reason is simple. I don't actually think anyone lives in the house. There are streams of young people, including children, going into and out of the house but I haven't identified one single person who seems to be a resident of the pile. So who, exactly, does one ask? As a result of the congestion, the street is turning dangerous especially after a snowfall when the plows are trying to negotiate the street. Plows can't exactly weave in and out of a sea of minivans, especially ones that are parked in the middle of the street. Also, the garbage gu...

  Update: This post was written earlier in the week before Philip Seymour Hoffman died tragically of an overdose. I think it makes it even more poignant given the fact that Hoffman had a life long struggle with an opium addiction. RIP, young man. Hey parents! Remember when your kid came up to you when he was 16 and said this? I can do whatever I want. I'm 16. That's when he stopped going to school and started smoking weed and fornicating in the bushes. What's that you say? Your kid never did that? That's because your kid was the one in my basement dealing the weed. Justin Bieber is just going through a phase. The difference between Justin Bieber and your kid is about 30 million buckaroos. So chill. The kid's not going to be found with needles sticking out of his arm with a strangely accented doctor singing over his dead body. He's not Michael Jackson. He's Corey Feldman. The trouble with Justin is he wants to be cool, and he's just ...