Dear Nanny

Letter of complaint to the Toronto Transit Commission, submitted via their web site:

I ride the TTC frequently and hear the following message over the intercom several times a day: "Please remember that smoking is not permitted anywhere on the TTC."

Dear Nanny, how can we possibly forget? In addition to your patronizing announcements, no-smoking signs are plastered around every subway station. At my nearest station, Castle Frank, I counted 13 no-smoking signs on my walk from the bus bay to the eastbound platform. And on the course of said walk, I had to endure your kindly announcement twice.

Nanny, you mean well, I'm sure, but WE GET IT ALREADY. Please shut up.

Curiously, in many stations one has to look long and hard to find any signage indicating (e.g.) which platform is the eastbound and which westbound. Surely that should take precedence over reminding riders they can't smoke for the fifteenth or twentieth time?

All Together Now ...

2010. Twenty-ten. See how naturally it rolls off the tongue? You'll also note the sonorous echo of similar years belonging to previous centuries. Would you, for example, tell someone that your grandfather was born in one thousand, nine hundred and forty? My money's on nineteen-forty.

So say it with me: twenty-ten. Enough of this two-thousand-and garbage, oui?

Newsflash: Toronto Bans Snow

TORONTO (KP) - In a rare show of solidarity, Toronto City Council has unanimously voted to ban snow for the entire month of November, the Kanadian Press has learned.

Councillor Clem Methuselah said, "As we all know, snow is white ... well, that's how it falls, anyway. And as such it is in direct contravention of the City's Greener Than Thou policy. We are banning snow for a brighter, greener tomorrow."

Chief Medical Officer Alvin Losparanoias gushed, "Any snow-free day is a godsend. Every year, the snow pandemic fells our most vulnerable: the homeless, the elderly, and the Toronto Maple Leafs."

And Councillor Bobby Fjord was heard to chime in, "I'm sick of Council over-regulating our lives, but even I can get behind this. It's a no-brainer. Besides, at the end of the day, the sun sets."

Word is that the City aims to extend the ban well into December.

Sometimes ...

... you just want to bash your head against the first available wall. Coming out of Dupont station yesterday I saw a poster advertising a "Writer's Boot Camp." Enroll now, as there's only room for one! And no, we don't cover punctuation. Sorry.

According to their web site, which I will not share, this same outfit is also threatening to unleash a "Copy Writer's Club" upon us. All right, you're on: Writer's Club. Writer's Club. Writer's Club.

Oy.

For Beatlemanics Only

No, I'm not going to prattle on about The Beatles' remasters. I have two so far and of course, they're exquisite, both in sound and performance. Any serious rock fan—does anyone call it "rock" anymore?—is hereby commanded to buy them all.

Instead I wish to share with you a revelation, as it were, about the much-maligned "Revolution 9." Seems our crack research department has recently unearthed the 1963 version, a McCartney classic that has languished in the vaults till now. Shake yer mop-tops, kids!

(For the record, I'm one of six people in the world who like "Revolution 9" as it appears on the White Album.)