Tosh's Tails

Of Glory and Great Men

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 23:26:00 GMT

My friends and fellow canines. I realize that one of my previous diatribes may have been perceived as “anti hockey”, but nothing could be further from the truth. Thanx to the amazing Mr. Bob Gainey (#23), my soul is filled once again with respect for the Holy Puck.

I had the good fortune and excellent pleasure to befriend Bob at a GBS gig in The Troubador in LA some years ago. I was out in the porch selling merch (glenn had to work his real job) when this softspoken giant approached and asked to meet the band. I admit, I didn’t recognize him at first but it was LA and u never know whose gonna show up so i asked for some kind of credentials. He offered up a bonecrushing right hand and very softly said “I’m Bob Gainey” and when i counted the stanley cup rings i almost peed right there on the floor (a very big no no when u r a beagle merch peddlar in a club). I was starstruck.

I bought him out front to the bus where the lads were watching the hockey game (can't remember who now exactly but it did go into triple overtime). Bob was actually between games in his own playoff series. His Dallas Stars were embroiled in a fight to the death of their own with San Jose and he really wanted to see the east coast game. Happy to oblige, the lads took to the stage leaving Gainey on the bus. He never heard a note but he was still sitting there when the lads came back after the show.....and the game was still on! So we all had a beer and watched the rest of the game in our tourbus.....with Bob Gainey......how fraken cool r we!

Flash forward 5 years. Feb 23 2008 in montreal where the Habs are set to retire the number (23) of said Mr. Gainey. The lads have been enlisted to sing the anthems. All hands nervous but they manage to pull it off with some aplomb. And then something quite amazing happens.....

Captain Gainey takes the ice in full battle armour and makes a victory lap. Stick held high in victory, the beloved gladiator is showered in the love of his people. Fucken Roman. Now I have been to a lot of shows.....maybe too many.....and I'll admit to being more than just a little jaded, but that heroic action really moved me.

My little black beagle heart became a bark less bitter that day.

.......thank Bob.......

Tosh

Speaking with the angels

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 15:58:00 GMT

I can feel it now for the first time....the presence of the alcohol as it slowly invades my capillaries and blasts away my shame. Brain in denial. Body surrenders. Bollocksed. I sit back on my P.J O’Brien barstool and let the wee whiskey angels fly off with my canine soul.

And then it begins.

Doyle takes the stage like a lion takes a gazelle. Stalking. Unblinking eyes firmly focused on his prey. McCann is in unusually happy form no doubt having already spoken to several angels of his own. Lost cause. Bob looks concerned.

There is much media and many record company officials. Amazing really considering the lads are 15 years in. A little long in the teeth for pop stardom perhaps but tonite the news is all GBS. I must grudgingly admit to being just a little starstruck. Like many in the audience, I begin to feel that something important is about to happen. Macfarlane lays down the beat. Foster’s head begins to bobble and then the question is asked, “I wonder if you love me?” and the tiny room erupts.

The rest of the evening is a blur. Sparks of memory linger but i would be lying if I said I could make any sense of it. Apparently I wept.

No need to wonder Doyle.

The angels are with us.

Tosh

Secret Service

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 10:43:00 GMT

So here's the deal.

I know everything about what's about to happen on planet GBS......but i can't say squat. I surrendered my freedom of speech in exchange for a berth on the rather hastily arranged promo tour bus that will be bustling us around Canada's biggest cities over the next 2 weeks (that was a hint re #4). I have been charged with the duty of documenting the carnage on video but i have to confess that I totally suck behind a lens especially when there is liquor involved and there most certainly will be (another hint). To this end I am now calling on all potential attendees to please bring their cameras and shoot the shit out of this all too rare situation. It may never happen again.

To help sweeten the pot, I have been afforded 2 extra passes to each "secret show". I assume demand will be high so, in order to be fair, the prizes will be awarded to whomever writes me the coolest Haiku in each perspective city. Just post them into the comments section below and I will be able to judge. I will borrow McCann's Crackberry to announce the winners on day of show via his new Twitter addiction (its becoming a problem).

Either that, or just rub my belly.....a beagle can always be bribed.

Good Luck

Tosh

People Are Dirty

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 18:09:00 GMT

And I don’t mean in that slutty “girls gone wild on spring break” kind of way. People are just prone to leave debris wherever they go. From the middle of the Mojave desert to the center of the arctic circle. Wherever man can drive, fly, or crawl; man will leave a mess.

McCann likes to take us into the woods for a couple of hours every day while the wee one sleeps. He whines about it and calls it his chore, but we know it is far more about preserving his own sanity than ours. After a long morning of baby wrangling, he is more than ready to head into the wild and enjoy the solitude it provides.

Nothing like being smack dab in the middle of nowhere to clear your cluttered mind. All alone in nature. Birds singing, trees creaking, water rambling, wind blowing the dust off your weary soul. Pee wherever u like. Beagle paradise.Then all of a sudden u look down to find a broken beer bottle. Shards of glass shattered over the grass just waiting to pierce the tender pads of an unsuspecting pup. Sadly, this happens far more often than u might think. On at least 2 occasions I have found myself in the doggy emergency clinic undergoing stitches because some fraking idiot decided to walk 3 miles into the forest, drink a budlight, and then smash the bottle on the ground because he was too lazy to carry it back out. I mean, what kind of person does that? What kind of no mind, careless, misanthrope would go so far out of his way to ruin what little bit of the natural world we have left?

I don’t know, but If I ever catch one of these arseholes in the act, I’m gonna chew his nuts off......

then drag them over a broken beer bottle.

Tosh

He Shoots! He Scores!

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 15:13:00 GMT

He drinks 6 beer and then 15 more!......He comes home to find his suitcase packed at the front door.....

I love hockey. I love everything about it. The sound of a solid slapshot, the crack of a back on the boards, the smell of of a glove rubbed hard in the face and, of course, the imminent threat of physical violence. Chase this down with a few "Be Coupla Carefuls"* and you have a perfectly squandered friday afternoon.

If only it were that simple.

The hardest thing about playing recreational hockey is not going out for wings and drinks directly thereafter. Try as I might (and believe me i have) I am completely incapable of leaving the rink and proceeding directly home. I am all too predictably pulled like a wayward comet caught in the gravitational pull of the Duke of Duckworth or the Black Dog or some other reputable rum serving establishment. Next thing I know I am on my ass, passed out in the back seat of a Gullivers* reeking of hockey bag and beagle fart.....hopeless.

The fact that I am powerless to fight my post game urges has lead me to this conclusion: Hockey; Canada’s national sport, is a Gateway Drug.

It is my belief that hockey has led to the breakup of thousands of families over the years. The addiction is real and, if not treated early, the chances of rehabilitation are extremely slim. Awareness and education are the key......and kindness will have to be the cure.

I am Tosh. And I am a Hockaholic.

Tosh

*bottles of Blue Star

*killer cab

Let's get Retarded

Thu, 29 May 2008 09:15:00 GMT

Now, before u start, I realize that “retarded” may not be perfectly PC but there really isn’t a better word to describe the actions of young children today. Bent on self destruction and blessed with an unhealthy lack of fear, rugrats all over the world seem to be hopelessly drawn to a spectacular death. Not unlike christian martyrs of yore, they seem to relish their own dooms and go to great lengths to seek it out. The Rack, the Stake, the cleansing Pyre and even the occasional beheading are ends the modern 2 year old seems eager to bring upon himself.

My question is why? Born a halfbreed beagle in an unwanting home, I was forced to fight for every breath. There were 6 of us and (as bad as this sounds) I was lucky enough to be adopted by McCann. Initially we had our rough spots and i was forced to quickly learn where (and where not) to pee. Times were tough but I never once gave in to despair. I always fought to survive. To prolong my small and miserable existence. I wanted to live.

2 years later and what does McCann do but go and procreate (a dubious decision at best). And what does the little bastard do as soon as he is able to move?.... Everything in his power to try and dispose of himself..... Nice stairs....think I’ll take them on my head. Nice car.....think i’ll lie down under it. Nice knife.... think i’ll commit Seppuku right here on the kitchen fraking floor!

Makes it friggin impossible to relax at home anymore. Always waiting for the 911. Always on guard....on the edge.

And now there's a new one!

Bring on the relative sanity of the bus.

Tosh

Body Hair

Fri, 23 May 2008 11:49:00 GMT

Why is it such an issue? Why is McCann so pissed everytime I hop off his couch even though we usually get on well while I’m there (it really depends on what we r watchin 30Rock or Battlestar Galactica)? So I leave a few hairs around. Big deal. It’s not exactly a porn studio now is it? (u never heard it from me). Why r humans so completely obsessed by hair?

From what i can gather, women seem determined to remove it entirely from their bodies. Except for their heads of course. They like to put more up there. Just where does the “hair” in “hair extension” come from anyway? Men seem more concerned with extending other body parts of course. Just google “porn” and before u know it, u will be inundated with offers and advertisements for an infinite variety of “services” both hairless and otherwise (at least that’s what bob told me). The Bikini, the Brazilian, the Hitler, the Bald as can be...... I mean what’s next? .......Arse Flossing?

Praps it’s some kind of youth fixation/fear of dying thing....hair being mentally alligned with aging, the grim reaper, sexual obsolesence. The corollary being that hairlessness is young, nubile, approaching sexual potential and something we all once were.....(virgins). But that would mean we r all perves right?

I just don’t get it. But what do I know? I’m a frakin beagle. I wear a rug.

Tosh

Tea (Canine reflections on a cruise pt.2)

Tue, 20 May 2008 16:20:00 GMT

“For Christ sake’s have a cuppa tea” Ray Davies

Another nite out wasted. Another promise to myself broken.......... and another........and another.....

Now I’m not one to make excuses (but i am) ,but this oversized canoe is no place for a beagle (with issues). What the frak do they put in those fruity drinks? Kerosene? One minute i was having a sensible conversation with Robicheau and the next thing i know, i wake up in bed with my pants around my ankles and a gecko tatoo on my ass.....and i don’t even wear pants....

That's it. I’m not leaving my room for the rest of this voyage. I dont care if Ginger and Maryanne show up at my door in thongs......I’m not playing anymore. From now on, I’m going right on the Tea.

I don’t know why i don’t drink more tea. Orange pekoe, darjeeling, earl grey, lapsang souchon......its all good for you. Or at least better than an ice bucket full of jamaican rum and a pack of smokes. Tea is not a drink. It’s a lifestyle. From now on I’m gonna preach the healing power of tea. You’ll see me up on deck tonite with a cup and saucer and a short bread biscuit holding court with the ship’s book club. Hell, I might even go to mass on sunday and sing a hymn or two. Did Jesus drink tea?

What’s that doyle? You’re gettin on ‘er tonite? Me? No bye.....i’m right off the booze. I’m a Tea Totaller......what? The rider is here already?

Well perhaps one frosty Red Stripe won’t kill me....

Tosh

Kissing Cuba (canine reflections on a cruise pt. 1)

Thu, 15 May 2008 23:34:00 GMT

“When i was a young pup

I wanted to sail round the world

that’s the life for me

living on the sea”

Never thought i’d see the day.......GBS on tour in the caribbean.......middle of winter........cruise ship.......scantilly clad.......mojito breath.......boiled.

I am referring, of course, to the Carnival Victory, and the BNL “Ships and Dip 3”. A floating music festival offering respite from the cold and replenishment for the soul. I dunno how they talked McCann into this. He usually likes to keep himself to himself and there’s really no way to do that onboard. The Newfoundland weather must have finally worn him down. Or maybe he is beginning to mellow with age (about time). Either way, it’s day 2 and he seems really happy. And that in itself is a new tour record.....

The old doll must have had a run in with a Newf (this term is OK to use when referring to canine citizens only) one nite coz I am all about boats. I keep hovering around the pool waiting for some chick to start drowning just so i can save her. Instinct. It’s what i was born to do. We r all born with it. Some have more than others and some just refuse to heed them, but i believe the reason humans (and dogs by association) are at the top of the food chain, is because we have good instincts. When in doubt, defer to your gut and u will never go to far astray. Granted , they can occasionally get u into some trouble (like before i was “fixed”), but on the whole, instinctive behaviour is a good thing.

Music is an instinctive art. There are no rules or directions. No classes u can take to make u a good songwriter (and if there r , then students beware........those who can’t....). A good song has to “feel right”. It has to strike a nerve. Move you. Connect.

Overheard McCann and Dolye working on a new masterpiece with the Carbon Leaf lads today ( a nicer bunch of american boys u will not find ). Sounded good too. I look forward to hearing the end result. Sat in for a bit trying to wing a few royalty points but i wasn’t much help.

Now, if only someone would fall in.....”excuse me miss, R U drowning over there?”

Tosh

Working Like a Dog

Mon, 12 May 2008 17:51:00 GMT

“Do I look like a budgie to you?” I asked the obtuse gate agent as she enquired about my pet status. I wouldn’t mind, but who is the only one here sober enough to check us all in? Who is holding all the passports, work visas and company credit cards? Whose paws are really on the wheel of this bandwagon? What’s the matter lady? Never seen a beagle off leash before? The only “pet” I know anything about is the heavy sexual kind they warn teenagers about. Hey. A litte beagle in your bed might go a long way lady......not much left down below, but check out my tongue. PET: Plowed Entertainer Transporter.

I am Tosh. And I own Mr. McCann there. Yes. The one face down on his MacBook......drooling.

I try to point out that all of this “unpleasantness” could have been avoided had the airline honoured its contract and let us all fly on the flight we paid for...the one that was supposed to leave 4 hours ago. I mean, I can’t really blame the lads for gettin shitcanned. What else r they gonna do in Toronto airport for the day? Go see the new Emily Carr exhibit? Finish Anna Karenina? Origami? No. They r gonna walk angrily up to the elite lounge and drink themselves silly.

“Unfit for travel” u say? I tend to agree missus. How u guys still have your wings is beyond me. OK then lads, all back to the lounge then......jeebus grant me strength....

and so it goes.

Tosh

Tosh (tells no) Tails #1

Mon, 05 May 2008 17:10:00 GMT

Woke up this morning with the unbelieveable urge to lick my balls.

I know it drives McCann crazy, but I was absolutely compelled to do it.

If he had caught me, it would have meant immediate eviction from the bed for sure, leaving room for that scheming Marley to suck up to the boss (as if he were never himself compelled). Luckily, the gnarly old bastard was in a scotch induced coma and probably wouldn’t have woken up had I pooped right on his swollen head.

Funny thing, compulsions. You know they r bad for you but u just can’t resist. The lure of the cat’s food, the delicate bones of the chicken, the rotating tire, the backside aroma of the french poodle.....all bad. All equally irresistable.

Last summer, Mccann left a full pot of pea soup on the counter and went out to play dinkies with the boy. It didn’t take me and Marley very long to get that upended and lick the floor clean. Burned my tongue and caught a mean case of the trots. McCann didn’t talk to me for days but you know what? I would do it again tomorrow...........with Bells on.

Why r some lessons seemingly unlearnable? I mean, I manage to pee outside now (that wasn’t easy). I will offer a paw, sit, and rollover for a friggin buscuit. But frak me if I can’t keep my tongue out of a boiling pot of pea soup! Hopeless.

McCann’s no better. He still scarfs back a whiskey and a smoke whenever he thinks he can get away with it (which is never). He still can’t drive past Leo’s without getting face and eyes into a FCDG & FO (fish, chips, dressing, gravy, and fried onoins) even though his dad almost dropped dead after enjoying such a deadly feast. Talk about a lack of self control. The man has a friggin deathwish.

But what do I know. I’m just a beagle.

All I wanna do is lick my balls.

Tosh

Disclaimer

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 14:54:00 GMT

For those not in the know, Tosh is Sean's closest friend and confidante. They have been inseparable since the day Sean first spotted him in the animal shelter and brought him home. Part Beagle, part Bassett hound, and part anyone's guess. Tosh has always struggled with issues of abandonment and insecurity. He also suffers from acute hip displasia and arthritis. Today, Tosh earns his keep working for the band both on and off the road. His primary assignment is to keep McCann from harming himself (or anyone else). Famous for his pronounced distinctive bark, he has never been known to bite. Yet. Tosh is three years old.