Thursday, December 25, 2014


          I saw this post entitled Walker Ballantine.  And there was nothing in the post.
            Well, that's not very fair to Walker or Mr Ballantine.
This fellow started out as a character in my list of other names by which I call myself from time to time. I always
figured a little camouflage doesn't hurt - especially at such times as you are being pursued. Or such times when you're just certain you are being pursued and it's your imagination
only. Paranoid spells.
          The characters I create, some of them
become pals of mine. They're me and they're not me.
Walker has somehow developed a personality of his
own. To be honest, I often like this alter ego better than I like myself.  And unlike me, when I go through depressive patches, Walker Ballantine is usually fun to be with.
         Besides,  Walker has written all my erotica. When
I write erotica, I usually put these tales in bright blue notebooks. And then I stack them in the other room -
Walker's room. I keep these stories because they are well
written and arousing as they are to me when I write them,
after the passion has passed, I read them the next morning.
And these fetish stories are so extreme.... that the morning after, when having breakfast in a local pizza house, I read them again.
            When I read these stories in the morning, a strange metamorphosis has taken place.  Walker's hot and sexy story
of the night before often becomes quite hilarious the morning
            I type the damn things so fast, sometimes just using one hand because my other hand is busy, I type them so fast that I have no memory of the hot scenes the morning after.
It was nothing for me, using certain stimulants, to type up a smoking cloud of sixty pages single spaced for me to read at breakfast.
           No memory at all.  So at breakfast I'm reading these words afresh. I'm no longer in a sexual frenzy. I'm hungry and happy and clear-headed, so that when I read the first few pages I'm astounded at what I'm reading. And rather than get aroused, I see these pages for the true comic effect
they have.
        Many times I've started to laugh in the restaurant, laugh so hard that tears come to my eyes
and I have to put a hand in my mouth so as not
to shout  out loud laughing and shock the other diners.Also, I press my knees tight together in case some other unacceptable kind of accident might  occur,
while I'm undergoing convulsions of hilarity.
       I noticed the other day that I have a thousand
pages in these bright blue notebooks. I'm going to have to publish some of these stories on a site that is clearly marked
OVER 18. The writing is too damn good to throw away of keep private.
       It's Walker Ballantine's writing that gives such arousal and so many laughs. Well, I thought I'd better say something in his defence.  What a guy!
       May he never stop his strange activities!

Thursday, December 18, 2014


               I've got a case of DREAD this very moment,
this very moment.  I don't feel I can step outside.
A storm blew in last night, a wind from all directions,
and white, white, white snow everywhere...I hear
the snowploughs scraping along the street. And
I have all my  Christmas shopping to do
and no money,
        I really need a drink./ But what is this urgency?
I got the Fear, the pre-Christmas panic mode.
I'm supposed to be an expert at survival in these
times.... but now, not so much... the madness
has set in and I'm looking both ways.
I don't want to be run over by something.
         A train whistle blew. I jumped.
The sound seems to have  come
from my bathroom - but that's impossible - we're talking 
about 100,000 tons of heavy metal.  Still
the whistle was fucking loud, loud enough to be
disturbing,  My nerves are shot and if things get
any worse, I'll...
       Things can always get worse. Make no
mistake, dread knows no bounds.Fear respects
no fences. In the land of Nod machines grind it out,
whether lubricated or not.
      I took a bus once... to escape. That didn't work
out quite so well. I left a hut in the Great White North
and found myself in a locked  cell in the Big Smoke. The
influence of the native people in this land
has never been fully understood.
       My hands are shaking too much to
turn a page... I was looking into "Guillermo's Inferno."
Guillermo is a savage book . And at the moment
I'm afraid to look into it.
        Felt  like I was almost hit by a train. No EXAGGERATION.

        You ever walk along railway tracks after midnight?
Everything's silent. There's a bit of a moon over the horizon...
and a slight breeze in the leaves of the forest.
       Everything is still silent, but what you see is -
you see your shadow ahead of you on the tracks.
You see your own shadow in the headlight of the
train sweeping up behind you!
   If you're fast like me and a bit of an athlete,
and if you're lucky, too,you dive for the gully off the tracks...
 A split second later the train whistles by in a whoosh
of wind and air.
       The engineer sees you at the last second,
and he doesn't blow the train whistle until the train
has already passed you... And you're lying
in the ditch looking up in wonderment at all
the heavy steel rolling past. All of a sudden.

       Assumptions can kill you. I had
assumed you could always hear a train coming.
Not so!
        This freight train was rolling downhill
and the engines were coasting. The night was
silent and the train didn't make a sound whistling
up behind me until it was past me down the tracks.
      Death can come quick like that.

                                                                                      (C)2014 W.G. Milne

Tuesday, December 16, 2014



            WHEN I WANTED to have sex with a woman,
I I'd tell her I loved her.  And believe me, I did at the
time. Every woman I said, "I love you to"... well,
I still love each and every one of them... when I think of
each one I have fond thoughts in my heart.
              But what good does this do for the woman?
Not to say that hot sex and orgasmic joy aren't important.
They bloody well are. And to help a woman come to orgasm
for the first time in her 35 years, this is a service of sorts.
I don't wish to disparage this sort of thing.
              I'd be in bed with one woman in the afternoon.
Then race across town and have dinner with a second
woman then take her home. Then around midnight
I'd head off and have sex with a third woman. And
believe me, I'm not bragging.
            I no longer think sexual unions are that important.
But I'm slightly older now and I am not longer
utterly controlled by raging testosterone.
            The problem with having sex with three different
women in the same day, you have to lie to them.
Often these gals know they're being lied to and they
don't much care. But not always.
           The aspect about lying, which no one talks
about, is that it becomes a kind of hell. Not  for
the persons being lied to... but for the liar.
The hell the liar enters is not so much that no one
believes him. The hell the liar comes to reside in
is this: he believes no one else.
          After a time,  he becomes certain that the woman or women he's loving... he becomes certain that she or they
are deceiving him. Then jealousy takes over... and a
terrible rage follows the jealousy he feels.
         I remember kicking down doors late at night
and seizing any suitors that happened to be there
by the throat, and shaking them like a dog shakes
a rag in his mouth.
         After a while, the whole gig gets tiresome.
And it takes up nearly all of your time.

       With sex & desire -- you always want more.

      "Now that you've got what you want, do you want more?"
                                                       Bob Marley

          With unconditional love -- when you really think of the
other person, when you care about that person whatever she does..... Haviing been a terrible person yourself, you  can forgive the crimes and misdemeanours of others...
 You might get hurt, but you realize you've hurt
other people, too... so this is a kind of karma,
something you deserve.
      When you love others unconditionally, a joy comes of this,
When you feel " the expanding of love beyond desire" * are in love with the universe.... And because
the universe is a sentient being, your love is returned
        All the people you have known, all the women you have
loved...become One Love. And yes, that's the title
of a Jamaican song..

       When you love a particular rose** (person)while seeing at the same time  all his or her defects, pettiness, selfishness, stupidity etc,  this is the beginning of unconditional love...
and this is the beginning of lasting joy in your life
this is the beginning of peace.


                                                                          *   T.S. Eliot
                                                                          **  "The Little Prince" ST. Exupery

                                                                                 (C)2014 W.G. Milne

Saturday, December 13, 2014


               So I wake up this morning and before coffee
I'm sort of half watching a movie called, "Two Weeks Notice." Hugh Grant plays a ruthless real estate developer who lives at the Grand Hotel,
supposedly in New York.
       I realize that people love these rags to
riches stories where two poor people fall in love and
realize that one of them is rich, yada yada, or something like this. Of course, they always end up
driving away in a limosene and everybody's
happy, happy, happy at the end.
              I like happy endings, even if most of
them are utter nonsense... I figure life is
depressing enough, and people don't need
other poeple to prick their balloons,
however unrealistic their dreams might be.
              The fact of the matter is that
no matter how happy the bullshit ending
is, it can never match the real cosmic joy possible
in the smallest corner of the universe, available
to all of us right here, right now.
              But this is rough stuff and hard to
get to, since the divine altar and playground
is atop some magic moutain with slippery sides
 that is always difficult to climb.

              So here are some ironic facts. The Grand Hotel in the movie is in Toronto not New York.
I know because I lived in the hotel for several
months. The hotel was not glitzy when I lived there.
The hotel had been a grand hotel, but it was
run down. It had high ceilings and big bathtubs,
but that was about all.
             The truth of the matter is 
is I was in the midst of an alcoholic bender
and I had just found the dubious wonders
of crack cocaine.
             The bar downstairs was seedy in those
days, just the way I liked draft rooms. I'd
go down and sit at the bar and drink plenty
of draft and then watch whatever deranged
floor show they put on that evening.
             One late afternoon I ran into a guy
who looked just like Harrison Ford. He was drinking
right next to me. Eventually he asked me for
a light. I gave him one and realized, "Hell! This guy
sounds just like Harrison Ford!"
             I told him this fact and it turns out
he was very aware of it. Why? Because he
was Harrison Ford's brother. It turns out
he had just come back from some adventure
in the Arctic.
            So we had plenty to talk about
because I'd also worked up and down the
Mackenzie River. Even if we had had nothing in
common, after about my fifth or sixth draft,
I want to talk.  So did he. Was his name
            Anyway life is ironic, I'm thinking.
I,too, have aspirations to develop some
land which I purchased decades ago.
But I'm not a ruthless developer. Each lake
is someone's drinking water, sooner
or later.
        My story is more of a riches to rags story,
but I was also living at the Grand Hotel
talking to Harrison Ford's brother. And life
to me has always seemed to be
highly romantic.
            I'm always happiest not knowing
what's going to come around the next
corner. What I believe is required
for a happy life is, "A SENSE OF POSSIBILITIES".
 I had that sense back then.
           And I have that sense right now this
morning. So I'm a happy camper.
            The great mysterious Circle of
Life keeps spinning around, repeating 
similar stories over and over again...
with ironic differences.

           I'd have it no other way. 

Friday, December 12, 2014


Find my books at amazon, when you google
this link: WILLIAM MILNE: Books, Biography, Blog ...
Visit's WILLIAM MILNE Page and shop for all WILLIAM MILNE books and other WILLIAM MILNE related products (DVD, CDs, Apparel). Check out ...

1. William Milne: Books, Biography, Blog ...
Visit's William Milne Page and shop for all William Milne books and other William Milne related products (DVD, CDs, Apparel). Check out pictures ...

1. William Milne: Books, Biogs, Audiobooks ...
Visit's William Milne Page and shop for all William Milne books. Check out pictures, bibliography, biography and community discussions about ...

William Milne (Author) ... (6 December 2013); Sold by: Amazon Australia Services, Inc. Language: English; ASIN: B00HBQU75E; Text-to-Speech: Enabled.

        The above is what I found when I googled my own name with

             I have an Author's Page at amazon
with "SANTA'S URBAN SURVIVAL GUIDE" listed there.

The other books are:

MOST ANCIENT GOSPEL FOUND ANEW.There's plenty of humour in  most of my books...
In the book, "MOST ANCIENT GOSPEL FOUND ANEW", there's not so much humour.

(As I'm sure you now, the "BOO###### numbers listed above are identification numbers of my books at amazon). You don't except humour when discussing the 2nd Coming of Christ.


         Now I find this book to be hilarious! Not all critics agree.  One of them even sank so low as to call me a pervert.
        You be the judge.
         Some of the chapters are derived from cases
in THE FEMALE ORGASM CLINIC, which I ran fictionally for several years as a highly successful therapist.
          Orgasm repression in female patients
is a dreadful psychological illness, which
I invariably cured. Sometimes with the aid
of electrical devices. 

          (You can read most of the first chapter at amazon for free)

Thursday, December 11, 2014





Saturday, December 6, 2014


          I tell ya, I've been pulling my punches. And I'm
sick of it!   It's hard to relax when
you're only half saying what you mean
out of what? Out of FEAR that I''m OFFENDING somebody?
               NAH, it can't be that can it? I've been  offensive
(without even trying) for so many years that
most people cross the street when they see me coming,
or they pretend not to  see me at all,  as they look up at
the sky, or squint at some billboard off in the
distance, until I've passed by... (and they're sure I'm not likely to  return)
                 It's not so much that others hate me, it's just
the people who don't know me think I'm weird, so maybe
there's an element of fear in their approach.  Me, I just
make sure they're not armed.
                Just like you have to do with your neighbourhood dope fiend - when you get a little near to him - make sure he's not carrying a firearm.  The large gleaming bowie
knife he fondles and keeps lovingly at his side, you won't have any trouble spotting that.

        This is not how I live my life ( pulling
my punches, and showing  fearful restraint) 
 I'll be damned if this is how I'm gonna write.
           People say to non-expert writers, "If
you could only write the way you talk,
you'd be a great writer!"
      Well, damn right! When I talk with pals
in a bar, I swear a lot.  Swearing helps in
humour.  Sweating is necessary when you're
mad... and swearing is essential sometimes
when you're having hot, dirty sex.
       Writing is like all these  activities.
Writing is best when you swear, when
you don't pull words to be polite, when
you're spontaneous... and when you're
relating a story about dirty sex.
       Obscenity?  There's no such thing!

               THOUGH there are some gestures


        Well, you can’t write, if you don’t hit the keys!
        Whatever your state of mind
         However deranged you might be
          There is no thought too ugly to consider
           There is no truth too ugly to see.

         Some of the best writing I ever did
was right after I was charged with a serious
criminal offence. I shot a man. And I knew
very well I had no choice about it.
         It was a self-defence situation,  defence or
death.  I was also defending members
of my family.
             When they finally let me out on bail... after 90 days
solitary confinement... bare-assed - dressed in
some nutty asbestos top....
          the cell was dark....
          and there was no water in it....
           I did not have water to drink unless I asked for it
thru a slot at groin level, I asked : "Could I have some water,

            I was  deeply offended that I was charged. I was
angry in a way I had never been before. I was hopping mad. It was liberating.  I wrote,  "Guillermo's Inferno"  in an utter
state of flow... I was in such a rage... I never
bothered to edit myself.  I never even considered it.
           So this is it!  The unedited brilliance
of a mind liberated thru accusations and solitary confinement...
           No punches are pulled.
           If you expect politeness, go elsewhere.
Really dark, funny dark... Not for you if you're feeling delicate this morning. Not for pussies.


I'll post the first few pages of this book... then offer it for sale at
a soon to be announced site.

              But I'm half Jamaican.  "Soon come" can
take longer than expected.  

Thursday, November 27, 2014


save as wot???   WHO DIS, FUcKER????

Come back right soon/.......  load up & aim
... at you...
... watch  neighbour sister sucking grass...
I show make it to..... success.
.............................I make it!
Who was it again, I wanted to impress?

 "Who, momma, who?"           **********

She was lying close to the edges of the park
overlooking the river. No one could  help
her now...                                                  

           I don't know, man. I don't have the wisdom to tell this story.
..... I saw it....
but.....                         I don't want to ever
fight against the cosmogeographicaldemoic press.
                     The story with the dollar gripped
 between a schoolgirl's teeth....

                     I can tell the story.  (But  most of you
ladies - you know  -I can't accept much more of this.)
..                 "Who was it, once again...tell me.  Who was it I'm supposed to pleasure?" she asked.........."Tell me one more time, brother, what was it exactly? Who is it...? Who am I  supposed to impress?"
            Who, motherfucker, who?


Wednesday, November 26, 2014


        Henry Miller wrote: "For Walt Whitman every day
                                        is Saturday afternoon."

      A friend of mine said: "I feel jealous when I read
                                            Whitman. He always seems
 to be feeling so damn good!"

Does  Walt, himself, ever speak of a secret?  Yes,
he does.  "Do I have a secret?" he asks.
"Yes, I do.  For the fifth month flowers have." 

"It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to          excess, and yet it satisfies,
        it is great,
But there is something else very great,
             it makes the whole coincide,
It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous 
                       hands sweeps and provides for all.

...Know you, solely to drop in the earth the germs
             of a greater religion.

                After the birth of Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass",
people born and bred in the West no longer needed
to travel to the East to gain wisdom.
                Walt had an awakening experience of some kind,
his whole book is a hymn to you and to the
magnificent "It" that carries us and makes 
the globe and the seas cohere.

               "Leaves of Grass" is a great ocean of a book,
but do not be intimidated. You can jump in anywhere
and emerge with a fish that can give your
life meaning.  

He's one of the few natural seers             
 we've had in the West.

Walt says:"There was never more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now;
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven of hell than there is now."( Song of Myself)

Then he adds "I AND THIS MYSTERY HERE WE STAND." (Capitals mine)
What Walt is getting at throughout the waves and rhythms of his work
is exactly the same truth the early Christians meditated in order to see.
Though Walt can make the whole business more fun.

"I pass death with the dying, and  birth with the
       new-washed babe
 ...... and am not contained between my hat and boots.

       "Do you think it's lucky to be born?' he asks,
"It's just as lucky to die and I know it."

"I am the mate and the companion of people, all
      just as immortal and fathomless  as myself; 
They do no know how immortal, but I know."

        As you read "Leaves of Grass" you'll find hints
and clues left there for you. It's an exciting read when
you figure out that you are finding the keys to
a puzzle. Walt's left 1000 hints for you, but it is
for you to find the meaning of the puzzle.

        When Walt says, "I stop somewhere waiting
for you," he's not kidding.

NOTE: The above is taken from a thesis on Walt Whitman,
by W.G.Milne called: "Walt Whitman, His Intricate Purpose."

Tuesday, November 25, 2014


To the journeyman within
There are points of light
Round the curve of this planet
In the psyche's dark;
Lights glow over oceans
Beyond mountains, across harbours
And through seas, and these
Lights are conscious points;
Where realized minds, saints,
Monks, teachers, masters, sufis,
Bodhisattvas, across the cosmos
The light of knowing, pervades
Penetrates the distances, glowing,
Piercing the heavy mists with
Such soft glowing through the fog,
Through starlight and the centuries
Lights of companions who die not 
Whose minds surround the globe
In the night never viewed
By those lost in commerce
Buying and selling, getting and spending,
Women and men imbibing temporal pursuits
Never see these friends, these
Luminous globes through the night
These brave ones who have gone before
Who do not abandon us
But who wait patiently for our
Liberation. They reach a hand to us
And wait,  patient as spring rain.

                                          (C)2014 by W.G.Milne


             To apprehend this timeless place, this is an occupation of the saint. So says T.S.Eliot.
          "A lifetime's death in love."

           It is said ego death is necessary to open a place
within you... where Grace might visit.

           It is necessary to try to find the place
the law of which is not to try.  Through self-surrender
the gift may come to us... gift that gives
the vibrant meaning of things.

                                    "... to apprehend
The point of intersection of the timeless
With time, is an occupation for the saint -
No occupation either, but something given
And taken, in a lifetime's death in love,
Ardour and selflessness and self-surrender." 

                  A quest, a focus on 'something given and
taken, in a lifetime's death in love.'
Here where the past and future are conquered...

"The hint half guessed, the gift half understood,
        is Incarnation."

"For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the movement in and out  of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all."

To find the timeless place of Incarnation.

"For most of us, this is the aim
Never here to be realised;
Who are only undefeated
Because we have gone on trying."

Living near to the mystic ground

"We, content at the last
If our temporal reversion nourish
(Not too far from the yew-tree)
The life of significant soil."

Words taken from "The Four Quartets" by T.S. Eliot,
"The Dry Salvages, V"

                                                                           (C)2014 by W.G.Milne

Monday, November 24, 2014


          It is said, "The world's a comedy for those
who think. The world's a tragedy for those
who feel."

           Like all such statements, this is a gross oversimplification.
        There is one sure thing, however - you
need a sense of humour to survive the long
haul, the dementia, and the twisted logic
that passes for good sense - you need humour
to survive the madness of the northern winter.
         And if you have no sense of humour, strong
drink just might get you through. In that case,
you might get the sense that others are laughing
at you.
            It's no fun being the butt of a joke, but think
of it this way... If there are times when you've been
on a bender and your neighbours are
laughing at you, consider that you are performing
a community service. Likely your neighbours
really do need the laughs.

Things you might not want to say when you
slide down into a bunker in Wait-A-Bit!

Is that shotgun loaded?

 It's winter.Why do you still have six tins of fly spray
on your  table?

Does that dog bite? Good God, IS THAT A DOG?

Where's your bathroom?

It smells like motor oil in here.... Did you just
blow a seal?

Where do all those furs come from? Dear God,
is that fur in the corner moving?

  It obviously isn't English...What's your
first language?

That's a weird coffee maker on the table.
What's the boiler for?
It smells like a still? Is that a still?

Where'd you get all those weird postcards?
They look like they're from the fifties.

How's the mail delivery around here?
around here?

Why don't you turn on the lights,
so we can see each other?

Where'd ya get all those yellow candles?  Why does the year on that calendar
N say1952?

Wednesday, November 19, 2014


           I'm not withdrawing any nasty articles about Leaf's ownership. I can't withdraw a single word.
I meant everything I said about the OWNERSHIP FUCKAROO in Leafs' land.
          They make big money with bad  teams! Then they try to con us. Ownerships assures us they are trying really hard.


I made a vow: "I will not die until the Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup."
        I made this vow in 1990.  I've been watching  the Leafs 
for far too long to believe bullshit
           Problem is, it's getting to be touch and go... with regard
to my 'Vow'.
          Sometimes ( as your wives will tell you)
support means 'telling the truth'.

           I love the players. I always have.
           A few  LEAFLINES! I'll make a few suggestion, as usual:

(1) Don't play Bernier in Montreal.  There's too
      much pressure on him.

(2)  Find another defence man ( from the Marlies
       if necessary....) PLAY # 51 as a forward.
       Stop being so damn stubborn. Get a massage   for those brain cramps! Make him a forward. He's got obvious talent in that role.

(3)    JOSH LEIVO. Keep him in the NHL! Damn!  Get that goal-scorer up from the Marlies!  KEEP HIM ON A GOOD LINE. Don't you know a natural sniper when you see him?
          He confused now. He's been up and down from minors to majors - up and down like a toilet seat. A little staeady support
would help.
         Some forwards are not meant to play much defence.

(4)    I've been watching this game for a long time. I don't
         know why, but I'm rarely wrong. It's spooky.

          Except for one caveat - You can't bet the Leafs.
           If you're going to attempt the impossible, the only
            way you can bet them is this:  Bet them to beat the
             best teams and lose to the worst teams.

           You gotta use reverse psychology on them.

(5)  Bring back McClaren. You're going to need
       him. Don't let the captain fight all the time.
       You need the Captain for DEFENCE and
        McClaren has one hell of a punch. People
         fear him, and fear is an essential tool
                 in the Big League. Fear is worth one
           defence man.
(6)   The Leafs played pretty damn hard against
        Nashville.  The truth of the matter is,
         Nashville has a stronger team. The cure?
         See above stories re: ownership. How did
          Christian Ehrhoff    make it to Buffalo?
           Why didn't we grab him on the way by?
          Ownership should be willing to spend some
           of the fortune, the monetary bonanza
            they make on the Leafs. As they
            selfishly allow the morale of the City   Toronto to wane and fall into the depths of depression, madness and despair...
              With the Toronto winters... much of the population
               is half-way nuts already.
              GIVE,FOOLS, GIVE!   Reach into
              your oh so tight pockets and buy another
              star or two for the team.
               You're already doing a pretty fair job
                in scouting and player development from
                 within the system.         
                  All is needed is the willingness to spend
                   and sign some free agents. A little generosity...
What a surprise that would be!
                    Do what all teams with winning records
                     must do.

           Of  the new guys on the team, here's some of the guys I like:  I love Josh Leivo, a natural
scorer, a sniper. Keep him up in the big club. Let him get used to a good line, then watch what happens in a month or two! 
            I love Komarov, also.
             Vote of confidence for Polak, and Panic,
and I'm forgetting several guys. Oh yeah, Holland!
               Someone's thinking.  Kudos to the
              Of course, Bernier's fine, and the defence
seem to help him a little.
               But Reimer's a better goalie than his press sometimes suggests. The big deal is -
don't let the power forwards of the opposite
team run him.  For God sakes, in the old
days if you got in the crease and knocked over a goalie you were in Big Shit.
               I think the rule must be made more strict
re: running goalies. Why are goalie's such big targets these days?
              If a guy's going to hit your goalie,
HIT HIM before he gets there. The lack of protection Reimer gets from the Leaf's defence is a disgrace!
               Also, tell Reimer not to leave his crease and try to stick-handle.
                 What do the Leafs need to do most of all? Start laying some heavy body checks on the
opposing team! What the hell?
                 Watch some Scott Stevens tapes! 

































































































































































                      There was weeping and wailing
in Toronto Maple Leaf land last night and the

            If the Buffalo Sabres were wealthy and brave
enough to bring back Matt Moulson at 25 million
dollars over 5 years... why under all the formerly
bright stars of the milky way couldn't Toronto
Maple Leaf management sea its way clear to
bring back Dave Bolland, who is a far more
valuable player than Matt Moulson?
            This is not to sell Moulson short. He's a damn
good player, and probably helps inspire the team,
just like Dave Bolland did for the Maple Leafs...
Only Dave Bolland played a far more important
inspirational role.
             There's no question about his importance
to the team.  Last year the Leafs were on a terrific
and nearly record win streak.
             What happened next?

            But, woe is me! The bright days of winning
 are over. Stupidity and greed, once more, have won the
day. Toronto sports fans have just been
            Once more this phrase passed through
my head, just as when Bolland was injured

            I remember one other day, as gloomy as
this one... Many years past, the Toronto Maple Leafs
traded Steve Thomas, at the height of his powers, to
              The Leafs wouldn't cough up the necessary 12,000 dollars.... Yes, that was the sticking point - some
paltry sum of money.
               And what happened as a result of this
blood simple, short-sided moron-time lack of
              Oh, yes.






                   My friends, Leaf Fans across this
noble land, join me this evening as I crawl down to the Don River on my knees, a two hundred pound cross on my back... And by the shore of the River, I will pour ashes on my head and wail at the loss
of hopes that might have been.
                  Great Babylon has fallen.
The GREED-HEADS in Toronto Maple Leafs
management have done it again! 
                  The MORONS are running the show.
The slathering rabid avaricious fools once
more have won the day.

                  THE BLIND ARE DRIVING THE BUS!

                  We are the fans! We're the ones
 who pay for this show.  Does no one consider us?
Is no one looking out for us? Does no one
care about the Spirit of Toronto?

                                     Leaf fans are smart.  We know we've
been screwed. We know this means DOOM
for the team. 

Thursday, March 27, 2014


         The most intelligent,
insightful statement made by any of the
leaders of this half-assed crazy world
has been made - not by our prime minister........
not by the president of the USA, and not by the
premier of Russia ...........


          And what do we expect?

           We don't expect our political  leaders
to be intelligent! And we get exactly
what we've expected....


           we damn well do expect brains
and mental capacity

            And do you know what?
             We get what we expect
in this arena, also. And thank God for

              Dion Phoneuf has just come
forward with the most intelligent, insightful
statement I have heard in a long time.

                 "When we're losing, when times are
tough... this is the time to stick together."
                  He has proved why he is the
captain of the TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS,
the greatest team ever to play hockey on land or
sea or in outer space.
                What character!
                  What truth!
                    What deep insight!

                      I am so very proud once again
to be a LEAF fan!!!
                      We just won the cup! The real cup -

the trophy it takes brains, belief and character to win -

what class! what a guy!

                                       FINALLY SOMEONE HAS MADE

                     I'm tired of morons and fools
and self-centered gloating actors
stuffing the airwaves with idiocy and dross!

                    This is why hockey is a great game -
because sometimes it brings out the best in us.

                    Hey, Dion, good man!  Now we know
why you're captain! We know why you lead the team!

                    When are you going to run
for politics? (Whoops!  I'm sorry!
Why would you bother?)

                     This is the finest bit
                             of wisdom and wit
                                   I have heard publicly stated
                                                                        in a very long time!


                                  You just made it, baby!

Wednesday, February 12, 2014



                             Somewhere between one in ten to one in twenty players will be affected.

                                 I've been in the belly  of
the beast for three weeks now, underwater, in the
tunnel. And the worst part of it - I didn't know it.
I thought the Doom that I was feeling
was permanent: feeling doom was simply reality, just the way it things are. Learn to live with it.
            Right! That is horrible advice!

            I feel just fine now. The cycle is moving
along in its inexorable way and I don't worry about 
a thing. I can organize twelve things at once
that's what I think in the manic part of my life.
And the problem is, at that particular time, I
really can do it!
                        So I get twelve projects started,
and people agreeing to work with me. I
can make million dollar deals. I once
put a bid in for a gravel pit.
            I put in a call to the owner at
7:30 A.M. and he was up.  I asked
him how much he wanted for his pit
trucks, conveyers and loaders. He said
7 million.
            We phoned each other back
and forth. By breakfast I had him down
to 4 million.I'm good at that kind of
           Problem was I had about
three dollars in the bank. 
           There was the fact that
I didn't really want or need a gravel pit
to begin with. You might say, "How crazy
can you get? Buying something
you don't even want."
          Well I can get a lot crazier
than this. Once I get an IDEA and
I'm manic, well, I'll follow the idea
through rapidly
            It's all this manic energy running
through me. You can make deals that
you think you can manage. And maybe
you would be able to manage a major
enterprise, if you stayed in that manic
            Problem is, next comes depression.
And when you are in deep clinical depression,
 all your ability to follow through is gone
and all urges to follow through are extinguished.
You are immobilized. And you can be in
serious trouble.
           In deep and ongoing depression,
 the only creative urge you might have,
is the urge to end the utter misery
of your worthless life...(you are saying
this to yourself. The negative script
is a component of depression - and the voice(s)
in your head telling yourself how stupid and useless
you are, how lazy... And on top of these things,
what a prick you are!
            This continuing script, in my view,
has to be attacked.

            One quarter to one third of manic
depressives kill themselves. So obviously
it's a dangerous disease.
             I hadn't been taking my diagnosis
seriously. I just thought I was way, way out
there. I started plotting out my cycle for
the depressed period, way before I knew
about any diagnosis, I knew I was subject
to a disturbing cycle.
             There's a short period of time
during your depression, I call it "the depressive
peak." That's when you have to really
watch yourself. You can really go over the
top, during the peak ( which might be
3 days or thee hours or three weeks).
 You have to counter the negative self-talk 
with  positive images, which you have prepared

         There are ways to train yourself
to picture  one scene of a place you love,
or a person you love with whom you feel
grounded, or tender moments with a dog or cat.
 You find these moments of joy within yourself
(And sometimes it takes a week to think up
even one such image. Don't worry. Just
don't stop. You need the positive image to
counteract the ravening beast who is calling
you names, deep in your own mind.

       Press one index finger on one hand
against the index finger of the other hand.        
This becomes a trigger for you.
        Every time you press the two
fingers together, you imagine your
beautiful scene.
        When you have a horrible
suicidal thought, you trigger the scene
to offset the doom and gloom of
the thought , and it helps...truly
it does help. But it takes a while
and it takes practice.
       You have to practice. The
non-medicinal cure takes work.
It works better if you can borrow
a hypnotist to help you with your "imagining
sessions"     and to help you embed your image
into your mind so you can call up the scenes
of joy and happiness quickly, when  you  are
in desperate straits. When you are under 
       We all get in desperate straits. I used
to hit the depressive peak every thirty-four
days. I'd map the times of my cycle. I had to, 
to protect my life, it was a lot better when I knew
the timing of each phase my cycle time  map.
        I used to call it my 'psyche map'. At
least when you are attacked, 
when this dark curtain is pulled across
your heart and mind, you know  when it's
 coming. You have a calendar of days.
       You have a map of your own psyche. By
writing down notes on each stage of your
cycle, as you pass through each cycle,
you can nail the time frames down. It will take
about three times through, to get a somewhat
accurate cycle time map.
       You know when your depressive peak is coming
 And more important you know when it's leaving, and
you know it IS GOING TO LEAVE.
         You know this dark beast is
leaving. And you have a projection
as to how soon it will leave. So you
know this terrible darkness will stay for just
so long. 
          This way you are dealing with
a finite situation. You are no longer facing
 infinite misery. The feeling of Doom 
will NOT stay with you for the rest of your life.
          Just this one little step
can make a huge  improvement
in your life. You are going from
passive to active.  And that
always feels good and helps relieve
the feeling of "helpless" and "hopeless"
       Of course , there are
exceptions! I've just come out
of a 2 or 3 month depression
and I didn't even know I was depressed!
Sometimes it comes up on you from
       And creeps into your being
slowly, oh so slowly that you don't
feel its presence or it's growing
power over you, until you're  in a situation
that seems impossible to change.
(This is starting to sound like a sci-fi
.     The weird stuff happens. There's
no denying this fact. But I'd say the 
'psyche cycle',the timing of your cycle,
which enables you to project your dangerous
time... I'd say this works and will help you
8/10ths of the time. 

                                     Good luck and happy hunting.
                                     Respectfully submitted, R.R.R.
                                     (C)2014 by William G. Milne 

Sunday, January 12, 2014


        When any of these top eight players gets
"IN THE ZONE",; any one of these
guys can beat any of the others.        

        Getting "in the zone" is what this blog
is all about.
          There are specific ways to do it, ways
to get there... But we are really entering
into the area of meditative techniques.
          There is such a thing as meditation
in action. That's part of what the dervishes
are all about.
          There are also yogic techniques
that apply.
           It's not a method you can use just
anywhere - I try not to get into too
deep a meditative state on my bicycle, 
for example.
           But tennis is a game well-suited
for meditation in action. I'll have to
get a better phrase for this discipline -
the "Art of Ecstasy" comes to mind, but this
is not a phrase that I have invented.
           Getting "in the zone" is a good
phrase. You know you're 'there', when
there are no thoughts in your mind,
just a intense, burning attention to
every movement you see across the net.

          Runners know  about "the zone".
In fact, a combination of the feeling
that you have when the endorphins start
to click  in - plus that sense of utter
concentration that comes with hard
breathing and strong exercise -
this is why many distance runners run.
Also, more casual runners who run
just for  exercise and  health,
who are not necessarily racing a stopwatch,
they know about "the zone" also.
           Let's face it, this moment of the
intense concentration of a mind
that is fully aware is a delight!
The game is to find the joy at
the core of things, without being
burdened with an endless train of 
           Full concentrated awareness
without content, while in the midst
of focused activity - this is the joy
of sports! But I must say, tennis
is particularly relevant  to this
kind of awareness, this joy of the
           There is a lot of empty
space in tennis. The situation
you are facing is more cosmic
than cluttered.
            Across the area in which
you play is a net full of holes - more
empty space! And an opponent some
distance away... firing balls in your
direction at high rates of speed.
             And you are running and reacting
in a court that is exactly big enough
to challenge even the best athelete.
The area and size of the tennis court
is a work of art, almost a work of genius.
          Any larger, and nobody would be able to
make it to the lines. Any smaller area
between the lines, and the challenge would
start to disappear - the elegance of the
strokes would become constricted.
          Tennis is the enemy of the enslaved,
monkey-like mind.

          Like in the martial arts, the player
is in a situation where any thought at all
impedes reaction times.
           Intense concentrated awaresness
without content, aided by pain-killing endorphins
fed with the energy of a fully functioning 
cardiovascular system - this is the joy of 
the game! And tennis is the game of life!
       Yes, and so is hockey!

       The Martial Arts, Tennis and Hockey - it's all about
clearing reaction time.


         I realize a severed or badly-cut tendon
can be a worse injury than a broken leg. Tendons
are hard to repair and take time healing.
      This is well known. But Dave Bolland seems
to be some kind of a magic man for the Toronto Maple
Leafs, and as his fortunes go, so do the fortunes
of the team.
      I remember thinking the moment he had that
injury - "There goes our season!" And damn it,
I wish for once I was wrong!

      Get well, Dave! And even if you can't play.
Come and sit down beside the bench. Because
whatever you have, we need it bad!
       I know it's your playing we need, but you seem
to possess some kind of invisible 'mojo' as well.

       I know there's no superstition in sports...
ha! ha! That was a joke!

       Having been raised in a country where voodoo
is practised, let me tell you. 'mojo' is real. And we need
yours now! 
                Here's hoping you're feeling a little better.

          And... sorry for the 'Mojo Magic Man' handle. That's the kind of thing that sticks.