Nuns can’t beat back the might
of Lac St. Jean, changing times

It’s a good thing I’m not superstitious or religious, because the scene playing out here on the shore behind the Lac St. Jean Motel might just scare the bejeesus out of any other 65-year-year after a lifetime of cigarettes, beer and all the other things on the list that doctors hate.

As Gord Lovelace looks out over Lac St. Jean three nuns gesticulate out towards the large body over water.

Father Lovelace tries to attract his flock with communal beer and cigarette host.

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When I head out on a homecoming, you should pray
it’s not your home

Kenogami Protestant High School’s grade one and two class from the early 1950s

In this shot of Kenogami Protestant High School’s grade one and two class from the early 1950s, there is no prize for guessing which grumpy-looking little prick is the author.

They say you can’t go home anymore, but I’m calling bullshit on that myth.

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The Cambridge Don who discovered life, and herself, at our basement grad party

A picture from the 1964 Kenogami Protestant High School graduation party at the Lovelace household
Like all celebrities who come clean when they can’t suppress damaging images about to be launched through social media, I have a confession to make.

This is not an easy thing to do. Because I know it will be disappointing for all of you out there who think of me as a kindly pensioner tending his little garden after a grey-flannelled career and a personal life that pretty well set the standard for moderation in all things.

Not quite true.

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Christmas ain’t like it used to be
and I’m pretty happy about that

It’s that wonderful time of the year when old fogeys wax nostalgic about Christmases Past and how great they were compared to the hectic, grasping, consumer-driven nihilistic modern version delivered upon our poor offspring.

So why should I be any different, being a Certified Old Fogey and all?

Because the rose-coloured-glasses selected recall is all a bunch of hooey and flapdoodle, that’s why. Continue reading

Left without an apology:
Southpaws want redress

The world’s greatest language—English—is still replete with terms of prejudice that would be the subject of liberal and CBC outrage if they were invented today to heap scorn on any minority other than mine.

Society has suppressed the “N-word” for people of tan, dumped “gypped” that might suggest Gypsies are sketchy and scrambled to ban an entire dictionary of terms that change weekly in the rainbow world of gender and sexual orientation.

Millions of marginalized people undoubtedly sleep better knowing they won’t wake up as kikes, spics, dogans and pansies, etc., while their Funk and Wagnall’s sheds the terms and all the entomological roots of such slander. Continue reading