Blogging at the Big Dog

Is it just me, or does anyone else feel sorry for Seamus O’Regan?

Half the time, the Canada AM anchor looks like he’s squirming in his seat with the inane antics of the seemingly obligatory wild and zany weather guy, in particular, and the forced upbeat and hip format of the show, in general. It’s like a viral infection of stupidity spreading through all broadcast media. Curse you, Regis Philmon!

By all appearances, O’Regan seems to want to be a serious journalist and I can just imagine him thinking ’I gotta get out of here and onto a legitimate news program.’ If there are any left, of course, (apologies to Lloyd Robertson).

I know, I know, ’if you don’t like it don’t watch it.’ I wouldn’t, except when I get up at 6 a.m. to drive my lovely and oh-so-tolerant wife to work, she is invariably watching it. Thankfully, she puts up with my cranky rants in her–ungodly for that time of the morning–cheerful way saying merely, “I like it.”

Maybe I’m just getting crotchity in my middle age, but all the superfluous (not witty) banter, ridiculously un-newsworthy fluff pieces and general cheeriness just gets on my nerves and grates against my journalistic sensibilities.

Don’t worry, it’s nothing a little yoga and caffeine won’t cure. I used to look forward to being a crotchity old man, but I’m working on a new plan of becoming just eccentric.

I am such an idiot. To think a glass of sour milk could have made me rich and I didn’t take advantage of it.

In 1990, I sat down for breakfast at the Newport Restaurant, a popular Ottawa eatery, not knowing that my life was about to be ruined. The milk was tainted and it made me sick. To this day, I can’t drink the stuff without first smelling it. My bones are getting brittle from lack of calcium. It’s ruined relationships with laissez-faire, milk-swilling girlfriends. All I got was complimentary ham and eggs. I should have hired a lawyer.

What really makes me sick is the case of Wadda Mustapha who found a couple of fly carcasses, probably well-sterilized fly carcasses, in a Culligan water bottle. Boo hoo. Get over it. The Ontario Superior Court judge who originally awarded Mustapha $345,000 should be giving his head a shake. This is the worst kind of example of the victim culture we’re importing into our country from our southern neighbours.

Now the Supreme Court of Canada is being forced to waste more public resources to hear the case after the Ontario Court of Appeal rightly overturned Mustapha’s ridiculous suit.

Instead of revisiting Mustapha v. Culligan of Canada, the country’s highest court should be prosecuting Mustapha and, especially his lawyer, for frivolous litigation.

I also found a cigarette butt in an unopened bottle of Labatt’s Blue one time. I was thrilled to get a free 2-4 out of it.  

A third of a million bucks worth of psychological damage from a couple of flies? Give me a break.