Last Saturday, my 15-year-old son Freddy and I were driving along King Street after he had just finished raking up some leaves at a friend’s home in Parkdale.  A good honest afternoon of manual labour had put the apples on his cheeks, and strangely a Movember ‘stache on his upper lip appeared that turned out to be smeared dirt caught on his peach fuzz.  I didn’t say anything because for a couple of hours because I honestly thought he miraculously grew an actual moustache.  My friend and I had a lovely visit in her kitchen, watching him rake through window, and even her dog was impressed by the boy in our midst.  Freddy with his plaid jacket and dirt moustache was the kind of boy we would have crushed on in high school.  Fine young men are our precious commodities, as we were just reminded by Remembrance Day, when we honoured our fallen soldiers.  Crazy hormones and hyped up adrenaline makes them want to fight in a war.  It’s so very admirable to me because all my hormones ever want to make me do is shop and eat.  And fantasize about a certain mancrush who shall remain nameless but has a dark Movember moustache that makes him look like an outlaw during the Prohibition era. And I have bathtub full of gin, baby, if you have the beef jerky. God help me and make December come quick.

When we drove by the Occupy Toronto camp headquarters at St.James Park, I was struck by two things:  THERE’S A BRIDAL PARTY HAVING THEIR PICTURES TAKEN WITH THE HOBOS IN THE BACKGROUND!  THAT IS SO AWESOME!   And secondly, what is the point of this again?  All these unwashed people in tents are protesting Corporate Greed?  Do they actually think camping out in a public space for two months will make Gordon Gekko have an Aha! moment?  Now don’t get me wrong, nobody hates a suit more than me.  Nothing worse than a man faking it in those shoulder pads and pretending to have friends by wearing a blue tooth in his ear.  But you cannot stop the nature of the beast.  In fact by staging these “Occupy” events, you are only giving the one percent a big old corporate boner.  They don’t feel the guilt.  They are the honey badgers of the jungle.  Y’all might want to go home and take a shower, come back later in a clean ironed shirt and some trouser pants and then get Medieval because really, hippies became extinct for a reason.  Stinky B.O.

And here is a lesson from the honey badger: