JB's Warehouse & Curio Emporium

Can you name the movies that inspired these interpretations of classic monsters (at least two seem to be drawn from Abbott & Costello movies...)? Source: Eerie #11 , September 1967 - JB

So here we are, just a little over a month before Rob Ford officially assumes the duties of Mayor of Toronto. Based on the numbers from Monday night, there were slightly more people walking around Tuesday with long faces (or nursing hangovers) than those giddy at the prospect of derailing the gravy train (and nursing hangovers). The results capped a campaign where anger reigned supreme and both candidates and voters did their best to imitate the Incredible Hulk. *** I admit it. I drew a line to connect the two stumps of arrow next to Joe Pantalone's name. Not my ideal candidate, but as the sort-of-stand-in for the outgoing administration, I could live with myself if I voted for him. Neither Ford nor George Smitherman were enticing prospects. The only thing I discerned all along from the former provincial cabinet minister's campaign was that he was running for mayor just to become mayor. Give Ford credit: his policies were unpalatable, but there was no question about wh...

My habit of madly snapping election signs subsided this year, partly because few raised by eyebrows in terms of design or uniqueness (or the headscratchers flew under my radar). Out of the signs I took pictures, this one from Peterborough wins the pun category. Despite historic associations with this candidate's last name , it's safe to assume there won't be any rebellions if he is elected. Photo taken October 10, 2010 - JB

Based on an ad that appeared during the 1969 North York municipal election campaign . - JB

Not long after the G20 summit, a wall was set aside in Kensington Market for anyone to relate their thoughts and memories about the events of the last weekend in June. Whether you were in or near the chaos downtown or at home glued to a blackberry or radio, it would be hard not to have a story related to the craziness that ensued. Here's ours.

Before reading this post, check out the related article on Torontoist . From the November 19, 1969 edition of the Enterprise (a community paper in Willowdale) comes this map of the proposed "Lastman Loop" commuter rail system. The accompanying article was titled "Lastman a-go-go," either as a nod to the times or a reference to GO Transit.

While sorting through mounds of childhood stuff at home over Labour Day weekend, I came across a stray card from O-Pee-Chee's Raiders of the Lost Ark trading card set featuring one of my favourite scenes from the movie. The back of the accurately sums up the action on screen. I saw Raiders during its first run at the theatre (whatever name it was operating under that point) in Fort Malden Mall. Given that a year earlier I had run screaming out the Capitol in Windsor when Chevy Chase became Benji in Oh! Heavenly Dog , it's a testament to see how far I'd come in a year when I took in the melting Nazi scene with no problems (other than the dude with the medallion burned into his hand looked like Dad, a resemblance which his high school students reminded him about for the next year or two). From then on, Dad had few worries about taking me to a theatre to see anything that wasn't Muppets, Disney or child-centric. The Raiders card set was one of the first non...

Sunday morning. As in many homes across North America, we ease into the day by reading the New York Times. Our brains slowly crank into gear as all three of us flip through our favourite sections, whether it be op-ed, arts coverage, or the style section to determine if anyone in the wedding notices isn't a lawyer or financial analyst. Wait...did I say three of us? It's true: besides Sarah and I, Haruki also reads the morning's headlines. Of all the newspapers that float through our homestead, it's the New York Times that draws his attention. He jumps up on the bed and promptly plants himself on whatever section is lying flat...even if I'm in the middle of reading it (especially if I’m in the middle of reading it). We've figured out that if we toss him a section neither of us is drawn to immediately (business or sports), he'll snuggle up to that cozy newsprint and stretch out on those column inches. And yet there are times where I'm convinced he i...

When running for public office, candidates hope to have Lady Luck on their side. Under ideal circumstances, civic officials in waiting hope to get positive feedback from their potential constituents, score points during debates, and pray no dirt from their past resurfaces. Even if you accomplish all of that, fate may have other ideas. Take the case of Irving Goldberg, who ran for alderman in North York's Ward 6 back in 1969. Based on this account from the Don Mills Mirror , he was plagued by misfortune throughout his campaign. Goldberg's bad luck continued on election day, when he lost by just over 500 votes to optician John Knox. Source: The Don Mills Mirror , November 26, 1969 PS : Here's what Goldberg's pharmacy looked like when Google Maps snapped a shot of 2829 Bathurst . At the time, it was an shuttered children's store. - JB

If nothing else with spark you about Rosy Chicken Soup with crackers, the sodium will. We imagine this recipe was conceived under the following conditions: Fred was a Nabisco test kitchen employee who was famished by the time lunch rolled around on the fateful day. He looked in his locker for something to eat and saw two cans of soup. Without noticing that they were two completely different flavours, he mixed them together. Looking for added ingredients to weaken the salty result, Fred spied milk and cheese in the fridge. "Hmmm," he thought, "if I shredded some cheese and add some crackers on top, this could be a deconstructed grilled chicken and cheese sandwich with tomato soup!" Never mind there was no grilling involved, or that Fred used the term "deconstructed" years before revered chefs did. Fred mixed the ingredients, declared it passable, then wrote down the recipe for future reference in case his bosses were in a pinch for a recipe to print on ...

While cleaning out a box that had been buried in the depths of my bedroom closet, I found several clippings from the year I was arts editor at the Ontarion . The piece above, printed in the fall semester's edition of the Contrarion (joke issue), was a poke at one of my least favourite duties: editing album reviews. While there were many reviewers who did a good job of assessing the pros and cons of a given album, others made me believe they had no opinion at all. These reviews either pulled out the cliches listed above or, worse, simply listing the tracks without any indication of whether they liked the disc. I knew there were people just wanted the CD and had to go through the formality of writing something...but still. Even "song two had a nice tambourine solo" would have shown some thought.

The last Sunday of summer. Sunny skies, comfortable temperatures. Good conditions to spend an afternoon reaquainting myself with certain parts of downtown. I went on an amended version of the old "Sunday constitutional" route I used to walk most Sundays—instead of starting at Osgoode station and succumbing to the lure of a cheap Indian buffet, I took the Spadina car down to the top of Kensington Market. From there, it was a meandering trek down to Queen West, followed by a (brief) stop amid the crowd at the art show in Trinity-Bellwoods (the tight cluster of those browsing proved claustrophobic). From there, I strolled up Montrose to College, passing neighbours shooting the breeze on their porches and men pruning front yard foliage for elderly residents. And then there was a sight that provides a good opportunity to haul out a well-worn logo used on this website... Election signs will soon become chic decor items in apartment windows and on city lawns. The odd poster ...

From the vaults (of YouTube), the Warehouse brings you the directorial debut of television star Larry Hagman ( I Dream of Jeannie , Dallas ). The sequel to the 1958 drive-in classic, Beware! the Blob (or Son of Blob ) was among the nominees in "The Most Humiliating Performance by a Future TV Star" category in the book Son of the Golden Turkey Awards : Amazingly enough, it took fourteen years before someone in Hollywood stepped forward to take this obvious challenge and to unfreeze the man-eating strawberry Jell-O for a second attack on the human race . The resulting sequel - inevitably called Son of Blob - defined new lows in cinematic sloppiness and left audiences longing for the sincere stupidity of the Steve McQueen original. The new film tried to combine humorous and terrifying elements in the celebrated style of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes but in its confusion failed either to frighten or to entertain. As one wag put it at the time of the film's release: ...

Photos taken at the St. Lawrence Centre for the Performing Arts, August 13, 2010 - JB

The root cause of the Joker's insanity? Not a chemical bubble bath. Not an incredibly rotten day. Nope. He doesn't like Hostess Fruit Pies! After all, who in their right mind can resist the allure of tender crust and fruit filling full of chemical additives and globular bits that once resembled real fruit? The Clown Prince of Crime's mistake was forgetting that since there were no donut shops in this particular precinct, the cops fulfilled their daily sugar and lard dietary requirement by purchasing fruit pies at the Kwik-E-Mart two blocks from the station. Source: Justice League of America #142, May 1977 - JB

Photo taken on 3rd Concession, Kingsville, September 5, 2010 - JB

For several years, I had an on-again, off-again relationship with internet dating. While the results were ultimately successful (as over a year-and-and-a-half with my partner-in-crime will testify), there were more than a few odd moments along the way. Sometimes the awkward moments were in public, others on a computer screen. The latter was the case around Victoria Day weekend 2006. While cleaning out one of my email accounts, I found a transcript of a conversation on Messenger. Why email? I sent it to a couple of friends out of disbelief. The tone of the conversation leads me to believe that I'd had an online chat with "Yeeha!" (the handle used in the transcript) at least once before. If so, I may not have noticed her odd way of "laughing" online, which was akin to the maniacal laughs found in any old J.M. DeMatteis/Keith Giffen issue of Justice League (though instead of "BWAHAHAHAHA!" she used "yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyeeehahahah!"). I knew I...

Advertisement, Toronto Life , September 1972. More about this ad on Torontoist . The Old Spaghetti Factory was a staple of my childhood. Most visits to my grandparents included at a trip down to the Esplanade to sit amid the bric-a-brac while my family ate many garlic butter-smeared pieces of bread and slurped down the headline dish. It was an ideal place for my parents to bring me and Amy: colourful, child palate-pleasing, and cheap. The recipe seems to have worked for families and tourists for the past forty years, even if patrons like the little tramp can no longer load up at a salad bar.

Place : St. Lawrence Market Time : around 11:30 a.m., Saturday, September 11 Story : Three people browsing the produce stands lining the perimeter of the north market. One finds an unusual specimen among a large collection of eggplants. A specimen than appears to be a mutant among its kind. A specimen with a nose. Not just any nose, but one that would make Bob Hope, Jughead Jones, cartoon hillbillies, and possibly Cyrano de Bergerac proud. Shoppers passing by commented on the unique physical characteristics of this specimen. Naturally we took this eggplant home. Upon further inspection, it was revealed that this eggplant also had the beginnings of a tail. When placed at a certain angle, the specimen also bore a faint resemblance to a coffee pot. Whether its veins are filled with the proud pickings of Juan Valdez is subject to further investigation. Researchers in the Warehouse's laboratory have yet to determine if this unique specimen should be immersed in a preservative ...

From the hobby page of the weekend edition of The Telegram comes this doozy of a syndicated column. At first glance it seems like silly fluff from the 1950s, but digging deeper reveals darker impulses at work. A profile of Dr. Albert Edward Wiggam D.Sc.(1871-1957) in the May 1937 issue of The Rotarian noted that he was "in the vanguard of those who interpret science" and that "his contribution to popular education is beyond reckoning...why read fiction when you can read Wiggam?" On first glance, it's tempting to change one letter in Dr. Wiggam's name and imagine some distant relationship to the Wiggum family from The Simpsons (poor l'il Ralphie would fail question no. 1 miserably). Have you ever made a list of those with whom you'd prefer to go hiking or exchange presents under a Christmas tree? Would a modern version ask who you prefer going to the gym with or exchanging songs on your iPods with? Or would Wiggam ask a cruel teenager for acti...