There’s other, more topical buskers, like the guys in the photo below – though I don’t know if they qualify as buskers because they don’t have any talent save for the ability to wear spandex so tight you can tell their religion.  The little boy in the picture doesn’t seem too keen on the idea, either.  “Guys, you couldn’t have worn underwear?  Really?”

This isn't protesting the Olympics so much as stupid shit-disturbing.

The opening ceremonies last night were phenomenally well done and frankly seemed to be the best ones ever produced, which makes this all the more infuriating.  There are some valid points that Olympic protesters are putting forth – when they’re genuine Olympic protesters.  Many of them – distinguishable by the black hoodies and masks they wear to hide their identities – are just anarchists, enjoying the attention of the global media and participating in the destruction of public and private property.

Jeff was watching the news this morning and there were shots of cars being vandalised on Robson, newspaper boxes thrown around – this is not the work of sincere social protest.  Some random people seemed to get in on the action because it was an opportunity to get away with vandalism – At one point Jeff saw some young mom pushing her child in a stroller, who stopped to kick over a newspaper box.

Seriously, what the hell?

The windows were repaired in a few hours and the police are investigating.

If anything, this kind of crap hurts the causes of the earnest political protesters, and I’m sure they’re frustrated as hell that this is the message that gets attention, and detracts from their credibility.  I know it’s unlikely, but I sincerely hope that the idiots responsible get caught trying to pull something else and have the book thrown at them.

I can’t say how much it suits a Vancouver-based Olympics that a) the torch looks like a giant joint, and b) they’re posing in front of a head-shop.

I loves me some irony.

Wayne Gretzsky's dad is somewhere in this picture. Dressed in white and holding a giant flaming torch, he might be easy to miss.

Wayne Gretzsky’s dad, whose first name continually escapes me no matter how many times you might remind me, ran the torch for the leg down Granville.  Well, he didn’t run, so much as stroll.  He didn’t even try to jog, trot or stride.  I was kind of let down – where’s the drama, the sense of urgency that’s supposed to be there?  What if the torch is late because Gretzsky senior can’t manage a fast-paced strut for six blocks?  I know the guy’s in his sixties, but if you’re gonna get the opportunity to carry the Olympic torch because your claim to fame is that your kid is good at hockey, at least hop on the treadmill and work on your cardio a little bit.