44 - Wednesday, August 21. 1991 - North Shore News

NEWS photo Paul McGrath

CAST OF the popular Northwood TY show acted out a Halloween scene for an upcoming episode
of the Canadian drama. They are filming on the North Shore until October, with 16 new episodes

in the works. The show returns to CBC-TV this fall.

! I GAVE You
YOUR BURGER!

aa

YOULL GET ME IN TROUBLE
\F YOu JUST HANG AROUND!

WELL? WHAT ARE YOU
WAITING FOR?

HIT THE ROAD! GeT LOST!

SCRAM! SCAT! VAMOOSE !

ANIMAL CRACKERS
WHAT

CHARUE <=

NOSE WHICH HELPS tT To
DETECT iNSECTS AND
BECAUSE, AT AROUND (2
INCHES LONG IT 15 LARGER
THAN OTHER SHRE IVS.

z
3m
z
&
3
I
3
t
&
“

OH, TH WIFE DECIDED
IT WAS TIME Te
FEATHER THE NEsSr
AGAIN .

OKAY /OKAY !

IN 1922, AT THE AGE OF
ONLY 24%, A WoMAN
WH HAD'BEEN MARRIED
62 TIMES WAS TAKEN
TO COURT. SHE WAS
PROSECUTED EECAUSE
6/ OF HER "MARRIAGES"
WERE GIGAMOUS

4 COMIN’,
KID !-- HOLD

THE FIRST PERSON [MN ENGLAND
70 HAVE A GARAGE FOR HIS
CAR WAS A PRBARRETT, OF
SOUTHPORT, IN 1899. AT
FIRST GARAGES WERE CALLED
"MOTOR STABLES” AND OTHER
NAMES BUT EVENTUALLY THE
FRENCH WORD “GARAGE”
BECAME GENERALLY
ACCEPTED.

This week's question:

Who is your
hero or heroine?
Why?

980-KIDS

The future as a
spitting-ceil?

RECENTLY | read
that first graced us

or a remarkable little human invention
with its presence fess than a century ago.

Have you ever heard of the spitting-cell?

Truly betore cts time, thes dewice
Qf penibentiaty detammment found
soway into the prsons of Western
Forope’s most industrialized coun:
{aes

The spitting-cell wo walled-up
bow in which the prisoner niust
stand without moving, auch bike a
coftin standing on end.

Unfortunately for them, the
ptisoners were not so tucky as to
inhabit as confortable a space as a
coffin would be. The solid ce-
ment shell stopped at chin’ tevel,

Hence, only the prisoner’s head
was visible from above, where
passing jail-masters would
copiously spit on him. The pris-
oner below, who was wedged in
his cell, could not wipe his face.

The salt of spit would irritate his
skin and the sting would fill him
with hopeless degradation. Of
course, he could close his eyes.

Funny that {| should read of this
‘“‘marvellous'’’ invention of
human crueity only days before |
heard of a similar story.

Like so few others not chained
to Vancouver due to lack of funds
this summer, a friend of mine
recently returned from a vacation
in Los Angeles, California. Talk
about jumping from the frying pan
into the fire.

Nevertheless, | was expecting
news of a great trip, away from the
worries of home, highlighted by
snapshots of Mickey Mouse and
Hollywood signs. Closer to reality,
the once-envied Dream Factory
that is mow modern Southern
California. seemed more like a
nightmare realm of prophecy.

My sunburnt friend had driven
down in an air-conditioned Nissan
like a bat out of hell on the seem-
ingly endless 1-5. Managing to
avoid every 15-car pile-up on his
way, he and his girlfriend arrived
in LA. in three days.

They managed to get through
traffic to their beachside motel in
two more.

Rush hour in L.A. is a paradox

BABBLES

reflected by stalled traffic.

My friend was unaware that he
Wwas contabuting to the slow-down
there, By 1980, the average specd
on L.A. freeways had dropped to
$7 mph (it is projected to drop to
17 mph by the end of the century).

Awed by the beautiful urban
landscape, no doubt, my friend
didn’t notice his own sluggish
pace. Perhaps he just fell asleep,
drugged by the carbon monoxide
emissions.

He hardly knew that 5.5 billion
tons of carbon gases are being ad-
ded to the atmosphere this year by
fossit fuel combustion.

Driving past sickly woodlands,
where the conifers showed signs
of acid rain and air pollution, my
friends hit the beach, only to find
swimming banned.

Apparently, traces of industrial
and medical wastes had been
washing up on the Golden State’s
shores.

Frustrated, my friend decided to
find solace in sun-bathing to the
tune of a local radio station play-
ing hits of the past, but heralding
news of the future. While tanning,
he heard a report on global warm-
ing and depletion of the ozone
Jayer.

Steep didn’t come easy that
night, and it wasn’t the sunburn or
the police sirens outside. More, it
was a feeling of dread in the face
of looming ecological disaster.

This brings us back to the spit-
ting-cell, not nearly as ominous
and terrifying an invention of man
as global catastrophe.

We are the prisoner of the spit-
ting-cell, hopelessly being spit on
by our pitiless jailers, unable to
wipe it off our faces. Of course,
we could close our eyes...

Don’t close them, open them.

Open them today, force your
arms, and defy your jailers by
escaping from the environmental
prison in which we find ourselves
today. By Rod Solar

5:30 A.M.
QUAKE UP CALL, __ ||
AS YOu REQUESTED)