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By Terrance Gavan – Crap Journalist
Tim Horton. An icon who liked to drive fast and dream big.
Number three in your programs and number one in your hearts.
He was the poster child for Toronto Ice Dreams before trading his bled blue Maple Leaf for a Sabre.
And he died tragically. On a highway. While attempting to duplicate Doc Brown’s future shift paradigm. Unfortunately Tim Horton was travelling well above the recommended medium time shift speed of 88 miles per hour; and he was driving a Porsche and not a DeLorean. And just like that? Tim Horton dunked his last donut. Back? To the Suture?
So we are troubled by the turmoil surrounding another Canadian icon. Tim Horton’s, the franchise. As blithely Canadian as maple syrup on Poutine. Whaaaat? Yes, I have too had it! And? It is very, very good. Eschew your doctor’s whines and your well-manicured cholesterol readings! And. Try it sometime!
Apropos of all that? Tim Horton’s Donuts wants to install its singular brand and superb blood thickening pastries right here in Haliburton.
And if we can believe Ms. Angelica Blenich, who writes for The Haliburton Echo, there are people who oppose the placement of this wonderful franchise on County Road 21. BOooooooo! We want Tims! We want Timmies!
About 75 people packed the Dysart et al council chambers during a recent planning session and they all want to be very clear on one point: They oppose not so much the idea of a Timmy’s in Haliburton, but rather the placement of the franchise – somewhere on County Road 21 between Todd’s Independent and Peninsula Road, or that’s what I’m being told by my fact-checker, Muley O’Dooley.
“Concerns about light pollution, increased traffic, noise levels, garbage, parking issues, animals, impact to downtown businesses and the concept of a 24-hour operation were submitted to the municipality through letters and correspondence,” writes Ms Blenich.
These anachronistic Luddites are upset about the location, location, location of the proposed Tim Horton’s. The neighbours are restless, dear readers.
“Neighbouring property owner Patty Brydon outlined many reasons why Tim Hortons should find another location to set up shop,” adds Blenich. “I’m looking forward to it coming as I’m sure many of you are, but a residential neighbourhood is not the right place to locate it,” said Bryden. “Brydon was met with applause from those in attendance and even a hug from one gentleman,” writes Blenich.
Good point from Ms. Bryden. But, as a fan of the man and the Danish? We are here not to bury Timmy… but to praise him. And thus all of this flutter will remain clutter in the mainframe of our synaptic discharge. We are on a sugar rush and craving the glazing.
So what the heck is wrong with a Tim’s on CR 21?
Well, lots apparently. And we will continue with a philosophical nod to Sarcasticies, the ironically inclined twin brother of Socrates. So logic will neither hinder nor impinge upon the rest of this homage to Juan Valdez.
The neighbours say that Tim – no sin – is going to be open 24 hours, and that’s a big problem for the neighbours. Something called light pollution. No, not light as opposed to heavy, but light as in your owl blinding 9,000 watt bulbs that will accompany big 850 foot light standards in the Tim Horton’s parking lot. Boffo we say. Kudos! Let there be light!
It’s a documented fact that Tim Horton franchises are clearly visible from the Space Station. Russian Cosmonauts say it interferes with their sleep patterns. And Canadian space jockeys say that it creates unbearable pangs for a double-double with an apple Danish. Which are alas unavailable in space. Dammit!
The neighbours feel that the light pollution will impinge on their peace of mind and overpower the sundry glare of their 55 inch Toshiba HD TVs; or the soft, amiable glow that permeates their living room from iPhone screens.
We get it. Tim Horton parking lot lights are angry reminders that Toronto – a sickening Godzilla – is slowly encroaching; a menacing thin edge of some Googleistic wedge. What’s next the neighbours ask? A four pad ice arena with an Olympic sized swimming pool attached? God forbid.
But in all fairness this light pollution, say the neighbours, is just one part of the template from hell.
There’s Traffic. Yes, traffic people. Oh my friends we got Trouble! Right here in River City! Starts with T and that rhymes with G and it stands for “Gridlock!”
The neighbours say that with Timbits come snarls. Traffic snarls. Goodness knows it’s already almost impossible to negotiate one’s way around Haliburton. Case in point. We were behind a two car traffic jam the other day at the airplane traffic lights, and it took me a good minute and a half to get from there to the Foodland. This is what the neighbours are talking ‘bout!
Gridlock! For heaven’s sake. 90 percent of the people here are retired or old. We’re busy. We have flowers to trim, trinkets to buy and quilts to tat. We can’t be subjected to any more in the way of these infernal traffic delays. Imagine what will happen when they put a Tim Hortons way out there on County Road 21. We predict nightmarish scenarios. It’s easily going to take another 30 seconds to get from Peninsula Road to the RBC. Double that on a July weekend! You know. When the tourists descend and flock to the Tims for their morning cuppa joe.
Donut dunkin’ tourists and cottagers will produce snarls! Grrr! Watsamatta’ tourists? Can’t make your own coffee? Or is it those spoiled kids, who spend the morning screaming, “I wanna’ Cruller from Tims… I wanna’ Iced Cappuccino… there’s nothing to do at the cottage! Get me a movie! This internet connections too f$#%^ing slow daddy!”
The neighbours are right. Tim Hortons is the root cause of what’s wrong with this world. Garishness. Sugar fueled kids from the River Styx. Fast Food Nation!
And here’s the real problem. The neighbours are old. And this is where Timmies taking its biggest toll. Tim Horton’s is a harbinger of change. This opposition to this encroaching brand is their stitch in time – which is supposed to, you know… save nine.
Tim Horton, a devil incarnate has already infused its sinewy synaptic strands into the minds of the neighbours. And Blood pressure people. Blood pressure. And pacemaker repair bills. And sight lines and big trucks parked where they’ll slow traffic from 80 to 50 KPH. Wait! That’s the GD speed limit ain’t it. Good trucks! Slow those buggers down, goldang it!
But no. For the neighbours? These are foreboding reminders that Tim Hortons will kill ya’. One way or the other.
But not for me good neighbours.
If I’m going to die tonight?
Let it happen with a donut hole in my mouth… and a double double on my lips.
Roll up your rims neighbours.
Send your screeds to firstname.lastname@example.org