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Into the Night

It is now 5 a.m. on Labour Day Monday. After tossing and turning, hemming and hawing, I got out of bed almost an hour ago. What is it that's keeping me up you ask? It's the food I had last night. I am not ill, don't have indegestion, nor do I have heart burn.  What's keeping me up is that, I cannot for the life of me believe that of the 439 people who reviewed that place on Google, that it has a 4.3 star rating... Is this what people think about when they think good food? Have the hipsters won? Can I just put a fried egg on top of something, charge my customer 14 dollars and call it good?

I am tired. Not just because I am unable to sleep. I am tired of the flagrant mediocrity that is called the food industry in this city, parading around as though they know what's up. Tired of it. Sick and tired of it in fact. So sick and tired, that I am going to do the only decent thing I can do. I will write.

I don't expect that anyone will read the ramblings of a fat guy from Winnipeg, nor do I really care. I wouldn't be a very good Winnipegger if I did. I am considering this hilarious decision to start a blog in 2019 as my method of catharsis.


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