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by Christopher Mudiappahpillai

The Globe and Mail and her crew – Mr Smith et al, make Toronto a move-able feast and boy-oh-boy, that’s manna for the hungry masses. I’ve been all across our f(l)air land: Vancouver is a pretender and Victoria its weak and foggy dauphin. Edmonton and Calgary punch way above their collective weights. Winnipeg, she spreads like a rash – hoods-all-over boundaries. Ottawa, she’s fat; Regina she’s flat and the Maritime metros are are wheedlee-deedlee-dull. I live in the environs of Saskatoon where Art is the rink guy and Edgy is the common pit-bull tag…where the city fathers name streets for high volume real estate producers but refuse to bestow such an honour on, oh, let’s say Joni Mitchell. Ahhh, the good old Big Smoke…rivaled only by the Quebec Gotham. You get the White Night – we get a ‘Taste of Saskatchewan’. You get the authors at Harbourfront – we get the Draggin’s Car Show….sorry, ‘Custom’ Car Show. I love T.O., Russ – many, many outside the scope of the GTA do. But hey, if you think Toronto haters are rich, wait until my fellow flatlanders read this. They’d run me outa town on a rail…they would, if Via still bothered to pass this way. Cheers.

leo bloom in reply to Russell Smith’s “Eat your heart out, Toronto-haters”