Bodes Badly

I live hard by a fire station. While I don't know precisely what my waking in the middle of the night siren threshold is, it is surely more than three or four. In fact, the last time I woke to sirens was the MASSIVE fire a couple of years ago that took out an entire block of Queen Street West.

So when my eyes popped open last night at about 3:30, I knew something was up.

And this morning I found out what. Some yahoo in the nightclub district decided to let a couple of shots fly.

At least four shots were fired into the air early Tuesday just outside the G20 restricted traffic zone in downtown Toronto.

Police say that at about 3:30 a.m., ET more than a dozen off-duty RCMP officers witnessed the shots being fired by the occupants of a black sports car.

Ah but with nine trillion cops, snipers, water cannons, sound cannons, and fifty miles of barricades fucking up my city, they caught the asshole in a trice, wrestled him out of the car, and whapped sixteen pairs of cuffs on him, right?

Um. No.

The car sped away from the scene, a parking lot in the King and Peter streets area. Police gave chase but lost the car somewhere in Etobicoke, in the city's west end.

So, fellow and sister Torontonians -- how bloody secure are we feeling this fine morning?

BONUS! From reader k'in, we learn that the LCBO is closing seven downtown booze stores -- including mine on Spadina north of Dundas -- for this jumbo jamboree. We beleaguered downtowners will have to hike our worthless butts a couple of extra kilometres if we want to get legless.

And we do.

You know, I'd just say fukkit and head off to the cottage I have access to. But it's near Huntsville.

Well, what goes round comes round, I guess. I hate Stephen Harper and it seems he hates me right back.