No Globe and Mail today.
Not at the Korean's place. Not anywhere else in Wiarton. Not anywhere in Owen Sound. Nor anywhere in the entirety of the Grey-Bruce Hillbilly Sanctuary and World Biosphere Preserve.
Apparently one derelict local hillbilly bears on his stooped shoulders the full responsibility for delivering the Globe to the Grey-Bruce in his dilapidated 1992 Astro van, and he had engine trouble today.
Hey, at least we're not the Maritimes!
Phil had her first full day with us. Went for a car drive to fetch the Globe and Mail. Needless to say, that led to an unanticipated odyssey of epic proportions. Three or four hours into the drive, she had a puke beyond anything you can imagine coming out of a 15 week old pup. Luckily, whoever originally bought this Subaru ordered it with the "cargo tray," a rubber mat that sits in the back. Were it not for that, the carpet under that cargo tray would have been saturated with ten quarts of puppy puke.
Unable to score a Globe and Mail, (I miss you, Doug!) I eventually settled for a Toronto Star. For some reason it maintains it's '70's era girth, even though all the papers around it are folding. So far I've only got through the first section, and in so doing was reminded of why I choose the Globe.
At the Star they strive to put the "human interest" angle out front with every story.
At the Globe they're more about the nitty-gritty.
To hell with the human interest angle; I just want the news.
Bring back my Globe and Mail!