Because homeless shelters were emptied if Canadian homeless to make room for illegals.
Actually it is because the SOCIALLY FAILED children of previous generations of LIE-beral selected immigrants- meaning ones selected by Pierre Trudeau................ are now fighting for control of turf with FAILED immigrants selected by Our idiot Boy Justin Trudeau!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Isnt that nice????????????????????????
Its ALL in the LIE-beral family!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here is an article illustrating what a MESS LIE-beral policy is making of Toronto- and other urban centres! With some comments of my own in brackets):
Decay sparks farewell to downtown Toronto living
By Anthony Furey: Published: July 23, 2018. Updated: July 23, 2018 8:30 AM EDT
Filed Under: Toronto SUN/ News/ Toronto & GTA
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The low point of living with kids in downtown Toronto came for me just the other month.
My son and I had left our unit to take a bag of trash to the garbage chute. Then we headed to take the stairs down to play outside. I opened the stairwell door and my young son did as he always does and charged ahead. But this time he suddenly came to a stop.
“Oh,” he said, confused. I followed behind and bumped into him. He’d stopped dead in his tracks. There on the floor right in front of us was a woman with a needle hanging from her shin. We’d interrupted her injection.
“Oh,” she said in response. My son looked up at me. I looked down at her. She looked up at me.
“Are … are you OK?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she stammered in a sad, apologetic voice. “I’m just leaving.”
(Oh right!!!! If only such people would leave quickly and quietly!!!!! She was probably delighted to find that safe stairwell to lurk in! Andh ow RUDE of residents to intrude on her privacy!)
Her arms were a mess. Her ankles were a mess. She was hanging by a thread. Her bony calf was the only clean place left to inject.
And there she was, in our building’s staircase, just a few feet away from my condo door.
I went down to tell the security guard and he sighed, saying something about how they’re always doing drugs or urinating in the underground parking garage.
No, I explained to him, she wasn’t in the underground. She was in the building proper. A new barrier had been crossed.
(The persistence of drug addicts in pursuit of their addiction is legendary!)
That said, the barrier for us had always been pretty precarious. I’m used to checking playground equipment for needles before letting the kids go on it.
I’m always prepped to divert the stroller in a different direction to avoid what looks like a dangerous situation on the horizon.
And those are just the challenges unique to living as close as we do to the curious ecosystem that is the Moss Park neighbourhood. Families throughout the core grapple with a whole range of more mundane issues like tiny living spaces and avoiding showdowns with motorists, dog walkers and – as Mike Strobel called them – “bicycultists.”
(Isnt that nice- navigating downtown is becoming ever more like working through a minefield!I recall being stopped one very hot afternoon at Jarvis and Shuter St. And 2 guys are standing talking beside and empty wheel chair- and every now and then they look down at a bundle on the sidewalk as if monitoring it. And the bundle resolves into an unconscious man laying face down on the sidewalk. A closer look reveals the guy has no legs- just stumps- and then it hits- me- the guy is NOT WEARING Pants! Yeah- he is only wearing a T-shirt- as if he got up in the morning and decided that was all he needed to go out into the summer heat! There is no blanket or sheet visible on or around the chair so I must conclude he went out sans pants or underwear!)
(In the old says he would have had cops or paramedics rolling up to check on him but these days its “ho-hum- just another addict on a bad trip or something like that”! And nobody now wants to get involved with such crazy people who are becoming such a blight on the landscape!)
(It is possible the guy was merely a diabetic who lost his legs due to circulation issues but if he was in a diabetic coma would his pals not have called 911? One mUst assume his pals knew what he was on- SOMETHING ILLEGAL- and were just waiting for him to get sorted out?)
We’ll be saying goodbye to all that when we move out of the core next month and into slightly more spacious and slightly less edgy digs.
And I’ve got to say, I have mixed feelings about it.
Downtown living’s been good to me over the years. Will I still be able to browse through music stores in the evenings? Go to midnight movie showings? Raid through the recycling bins of the likes of author Jane Jacobs whenever I passed by her house, because she subscribed to all the best magazines and there was always something great to read?
No, I won’t. But these questions are moot anyway. It’s pure nostalgia talking.
Like almost everyone else, I don’t really buy music anymore. I haven’t been inside a record store in ages. All I do now is get misty eyed whenever I hear Steven Page come on the radio singing “drove downtown in the rain…” It’s been over a decade since I’ve been to a midnight screening of Rocky Horror or The Dark Knight. And it’s been even longer since the famous Jacobs passed away and I stopped going to the theatre that had me regularly pass by her old house.
These urban experiences just don’t exist anymore. At least not for me they don’t. I’m too old. I’m a dad. I go to bed early.
No, when you grow up and have kids your urban perspective suddenly shifts from a care-free one that’s almost blind to the grit of the city to one focused on protecting your offspring from what you suddenly realize is ever-present decay.
Don’t get me wrong, I like a city with grit. But for every person in Manhattan who laments how their home has become so sanitized and corporate, another one will tell you how glad they are to be free of the dirty lawlessness that prevailed in the pre-Guiliani years.
(A little grit is one thing and it will always be with us- but the scale and scope of |Toronto dirt is growing to unmanageable proportions!!!!)
A used needle drop box in Toronto’s Moss Park. (Jack Boland/Toronto Sun)
I’ll never forget a story the late, great Ottawa columnist Earl McRae told me about how he was walking the streets of NYC in the 1980s, not realizing he was in the wrong part of town and having strangers drag him into a restaurant as if he was their dining companion to help avoid the trouble closing in on his heels.
Toronto is heading both forwards and backwards in this regard — while Google is building a “smart city” on the waterfront, just a few minutes away the Moss Park safe injection site has attracted all sorts of new characters causing havoc in the area.
(Yes- the LIE-beral mindset finds the idea of gated communities to be a valid- for them! Too bad they want the rest of us to pay for the gated community privileges while we live in the grit!)
We may soon be like those science fiction movie cities where a polished elite class in white robes live in pristine towers above while the great unwashed stumble about below, fighting over the scraps.
It could be a surprise just who gets sent up top and who is forced to live below. While I’m making my exit, it’s a privilege not everyone has (or wants). The truth is, if we could afford a mythical 4-bedroom condo with family amenities, we’d stay downtown in a heartbeat. But houses are cheaper than these sorts of condos. Go figure.
These days more and more families just can’t afford to live in anything other than their cramped condos. They’re stuck in the middle – not middle-class elites, but not part of the under-class. Are we gearing up for a series of showdowns? The druggies and their high-brow enablers versus the supporters of the broken windows theory?
The lines aren’t that clearly drawn, of course. And the down-and-out get a bad rap. Most of the people I pass on my daily walk up and down Sherbourne are harmless — the guys bumming around on the corners and in the parks are mostly drunks or mentally ill people who mumble to themselves. It’s the hard drug users that are quite literally itching for their next fix who cause all the trouble, for everyone. Them and their dealers.
Some of the kindest everyday gestures I’ve experienced come from the Sherbourne guys and gals — like how they go out of their way to waft away their cigarette smoke when they see your kids coming.
Or — here’s the heartbreaker — when they start to tell you about their own kids but slowly trail off because they know and you know that they don’t see their kids anymore. It’s like that Leonard Cohen line about how there are heroes in the seaweed.
So it’s with conflicting emotions that I say goodbye to all this downtown decay. I’ve read reflections on Toronto living from people 20 years older than me, and it’s both very similar and very different from my experiences.
What, I wonder, will it be like when my kids make the inevitable trek downtown?
afurey at postmedia.