Feedback or Feedforward

Feed-Forward

I was talking to a friend the other day and he mentioned the concept of ‘feed-forward’. His wife had received an internal email from her faculty that concluded with a request for feedforward. Evidently good old feedback is deemed to be negative, even hostile at times.

Having never heard the term before I did a little research and found that according to JISC or Joint Information Systems Committee: “While feedback focuses on a student’s current performance, and may simply justify the grade awarded, feed forward looks ahead to subsequent assignments and offers constructive guidance on how to do better. A combination of both feedback and feed forward (sic) helps ensure that assessment has a developmental impact on learning”.

Kevin Kruse writes in Forbes “The time has come to stop giving feedback and start giving feedforward. We must become leaders of people not just managers of tasks. Feedforward Coaching has the power to turn everyday workers into engaged workplace super heroes, whose discretionary effort will drive extraordinary business results”.

And what would Jimi Hendrix have been without feedback? Of course, one must always put one’s best feed forward as well.

Suffice to say I’m dubious. That could be because none of the experts can agree on how to spell it: feed-forward or feedforward or feed forward are all found. Sounds like six of one half a dozen of the other to me. And what would Jimi Hendrix have been without feedback? Of course, one must always put one’s best feed forward as well.

When I think of this apparent over-sensitivity to others, my mind travels back to when I worked as a student employee during university. The city I lived in hired numerous local students to cut grass, maintain tennis courts, tend flower beds, and umpteen other simple tasks. The general foreman was a real straight shooter, an honest, no-nonsense kind of man. He gave feedback – sometimes very loudly. He had the ability to, when confronted with someone who had done something not to his liking, ask the usually rhetorical question, Are you crazy? in such a manner that you wondered if you should be answering. He’d repeat the question, getting louder with each repetition until it was out of his system.

Playing a country song backwards means you get your wife back, your truck back, your dog back. All good things.

Why is back seen as negative to forward’s positive? “Get back from the burning building” can be a lifesaving statement. Playing a country song backwards means you get your wife back, your truck back, your dog back. All good things. Sir Mix-A-Lot’s hip-hop classic Baby Got Back is another testament to the positive nature of the word back.

What’s next? Throw down instead of throw up? I assume up to be upbeat and uplifting yet I find nothing positive about the act of vomiting. Not one of those to ease nausea by inducing vomiting, I would rather walk on hot coals than upchuck (downchuck?). Will we start hearing phrases such as Stop the car, Lenny’s gonna throw down or Look. the dog threw down on your sweater?

BabyBackPush-ups should really be push-downs as the effort is exerted downward causing the body to rise from the floor, and believe me no amount of positive naming is going to make them any less miserable. Now chin-ups are on the right track.

I’m off to have some baby forward ribs; I’m sure I’d choke on baby-back ribs. Please feel free to leave feedback, sideways or forward below!

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+
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Swimming Pools by Oceans: Why?

The ocean is a mere pitching wedge from the pool!

I am not a swimmer. I don’t mean I am a weak swimmer, or an odd swimmer. But I simply cannot swim. People seem hard put to accept this for some reason completely alien to me. When I mention it they insist I must be referring to my inability to swim well, or maybe a dislike of chlorine. Nope. I cannot swim.

Swimming pools, lakes, ponds, and lagoons are giant vats of death in my world.

Swimming pools, lakes, ponds, and lagoons are giant vats of death in my world. Why, with the number of accidental drownings – usually involving very young children – it is within the law to have these giant vats of death in suburban backyards is well beyond me.

That having been stated I must admit to a great respect and admiration for the ocean. I was once a big fan of sitting on a beach, but with the years, and warnings of harming rays, I have curtailed my beach sitting considerably. However to sit and watch the ocean roar and pound the shore still fascinates me.

You could use a putter on this one.

We live about a five-hour drive from the US northeast coast, and like many Canadians we try to make it to Maine or New Hampshire once a summer. Although the current exchange rate made that less attractive last summer. Many folks come from even farther away to get a whiff of salt air and pay exorbitant prices for local lobster.

Why in the name of all things blue, with a vast ocean right in front of you, would you insist on a swimming pool?

Sometimes on HGTV they will air a show about the process of buying an ocean-front property. These people, usually from some distance away from the ocean, look at available houses, cottages or condos with an ocean view. No four-minute walk for them, it must be right on the ocean. It must be within their budget and it must – here’s where I become flummoxed – have a swimming pool.

Why in the name of all things blue, with a vast ocean right in front of you, would you insist on a swimming pool? Perhaps, in fact no doubt, it is the non-swimmer in me, but I’m certain these people could save a bundle of money by just going to a swimming pool in Ames, Iowa or Toledo, Ohio, or wherever they are from. Aerial views of coastlines illustrate this phenomenon well; surely the land on which all those pools sit in backyards, less than a pitching wedge away from the ocean, could be put to better use. To these ocean front buyers this best of both worlds is some sort of swimmers’ panacea, while I think it defines the word redundant. But then, did I mention I can’t swim?

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

For God’s Sake Stop Texting and MOVE!

Recently the Québec highway safety code was tweaked to make it an offence to text while driving. I wouldn’t have thought that would be necessary, considering the level of stupidity required to attempt to look at and type on a mobile device instead of concentrating on driving. But the new law makes it an offence not only to text while the vehicle is moving but also when stopped at a red light. This should cut down on drivers who do not pay attention to the traffic light and therefore do not move once the light turns green. They seem to rely on the horn-tooting of those behind them to put down (hopefully) the phone and start driving.

According to the law:

No person may, while driving a road vehicle, use a hand-held device that includes a telephone function. […] [A] driver who is holding a hand-held device that includes a telephone function is presumed to be using the device.

Simply holding a cell phone in your hand, for any reason, while driving a road vehicle is illegal.

What does “while driving” mean?

  • If you are at the wheel of a road vehicle in a traffic lane, you are driving.
  • Even when you are stopped at a red light or stuck in traffic, you are driving!

If it is such a danger to text while driving; and I agree wholeheartedly that it is, what can we expect when all cars, not just fancy expensive ones, come equipped with wi-fi enabled dashboard screens?

Car_Google

I believe the time has come for a similar regulation for pedestrians. Montrealers tend to be scofflaws when it comes to crossing against a red light. When there is a group of people waiting for the light to change to green, it usually means a) there are too many passing cars to cross, b) it is the annual police cash-grab crackdown on jaywalking or c) those waiting are out-of-town tourists.

Harpo

Harpo Marx and his horn

While waiting for the green light many folks take advantage of the chance to check their mobile devices. I have noticed that the same phenomenon found while driving is now common at street corners. When the light does turn green, many people do not notice and therefore do not move. On several occasions I have bumped into a person who is standing and staring at their phone instead of walking, putting into possible peril my nose and front teeth. Some have the gall to imply that I have done something wrong!

I have considered carrying a Harpo Marx style horn to politely toot when those in front of me zone out and tie up pedestrian traffic. (To be honest, I wanted to get one of those aerosol can air horns, but feared the potential for cardiac arrest, leading charges of homicide.)

I am all in favour of pedestrians leaving their cars at home to go downtown, but for God’s sake walk when you’re supposed to or stay home!

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

 

Watching Baseball with a Hall of Famer

Walter “Big Train” Johnson

This year’s version has been an exceptionally entertaining World Series. Some late nights due to extra innings, but very enjoyable. If you read this blog regularly you may know that I have a difficult time with fantasy and time-travel, yet even I can appreciate the greatness of 1989’s film Field of Dreams.

So it was a shock to my system to have my own baseball fantasy experience just a few nights ago. There I was all set to watch the Astros and Dodgers when I heard a knock at my apartment door. As we are in the middle of an election campaign I figured it was some candidate seeking my vote, yet when I opened the door a man stood there saying nothing at all. He seemed pleasant enough if a little quiet. Finally, he put out his hand and introduced himself as Walter Johnson, Hall of Fame pitcher.

Needless to say, I was gobsmacked. I stammered “But aren’t you .. you know … dead?”

“Details, details,” he replied. “They told me I could see the game here.”

“Of course, you are most welcome. Come on in.”

He walked in and made straight for the living room window. ignoring the television.

“No ballpark out that window,” he said. “How are we gonna watch the game from here?”

I explained, “No Mr. Johnson, we’re going to watch it on the television.” I pointed out the large flat-screen HD set.

“What in the hell is that?” he sputtered.

“I tell you what Mr. Johnson, I won’t ask you how you got here if you won’t ask me to explain television.”

“Sounds fair enough to me,” he said.

We sat down to watch the game and I offered him a beer.

“Thanks, Schlitz please.” he agreed.

“That could be tricky. First Pabst bought Schlitz about 35 years ago, and it’s an American beer. We’re in Canada. “ I pointed out. “Will a Molson do?”

“Fine, just as long as it’s cold.”

There we sat sipping our beers and watching the national anthem. I thanked my lucky stars that MLB players have not decided to take a knee during the anthem as I don’t know how I would explain that to my guest.

As soon as the players took the field I ask him for his initial reaction. Without too much thought, first impression.

“There sure is a whole lot of hair on that field. Long hair, beards. What’s with those long shaggy beards anyway? Must be God-awful hot.”

I told him about the latest fad among professional athletes, namely the growing of facial hair. I even admitted that my beloved hockey may be partially to blame having started the ‘playoff beard’ tradition several years ago.

With the first pitch, my guest was already wondering what was going on. “Tell me, do they now start the inning with a runner on first?” he asked.

I assured him they did not and asked what had given him that impression.

“The pitcher is pitching from the stretch. He didn’t take a full wind-up. No high leg kick. He looked like he was throwing a dart not a baseball.”

I told him that kinesiologists had determined that all those movements were wasted, adding nothing to the velocity of the pitch, but increasing the fatigue factor. For a guy nick-named the Big Train, I was not surprised when he looked at me skeptically, not for the first or last time that evening.

“What’s that thing stuck to the back of the pitcher’s mound?” he asked.

“It’s a device for cleaning the mud out of your spikes,” I answered.

“Huh … we used a popsicle stick. Worked just fine. And another thing,” he went on. “Didn’t the voice coming from that picture box say it was very warm at game time?”

“Yes, it was supposed to be around 100 degrees at game time. All part of climate change I guess. Why do you ask?”

Walter Johnson and President Coolidge

“Well,” he said. “Most of the batters look as if they’re cold. They’re all wearing gloves. And they must be new because after every pitch they take them off and put them on again. Slows the game down. But I am pleased to see that most of these fellows have been in the service.” he commented.

Curious, I enquired “What makes you say that?”

“Most of them have tattoos,” he explained. “As far as I know the only place to get a tattoo is in the service or in prison, I’d like to think it’s the former.”

“Actually many people get tattoos these days”

“Good God why would anyone other than a serviceman want to permanently mark their skin with a tattoo?” he exclaimed.

I could only tell him that along with my inability to explain television to him, I was also at a loss to expound on the tattoo phenomenon.

After a few innings, and some great insight from my guest, there was a close play at second base. The umpire called the runner out, although the replay showed otherwise.

“The umpires are making a telephone call in the middle of the game. Why would they do that?”

“They are speaking with a replay official who will watch several different angles on a tel …er … picture box to determine if the call on the field is correct.”

“Never.” he erupted. “The game is played by humans. Let humans umpire it as well. Mistakes and all.”

He pointed out that after almost half the game we had yet to see a pitcher at bat. I spoke about the Designated Hitter rule as best I could, only to see by his face that he was astounded. The thought of having one player hit for another, not as a pinch-hitter, was beyond his comprehension. If you’re in the line-up, you bat, he contended. I agreed.

When the manager removed a pitcher from the game after six innings having only given up one run Mr. Johnson was beyond confused. He wanted to know if the player was injured. I told him that he had done his work and now the bullpen relievers would take over. He muttered something about being able to add ten years to his career if all he had to do was pitch six innings.

Then with runners at second and third the batter approached the plate. With first base open, they decided to walk him intentionally to set up force plays around the diamond.

“Whoa,” my guest said. “Did I nod off? Sometimes beer makes me sleepy. How did that guy get to first base so fast?”

I pointed out to him the new rule that allowed a pitcher to inform the umpire of his choice to walk the batter intentionally at which the umpire sent the batter to first base without a pitch thrown.

“That’s ridiculous,” he exploded. “There are runners on second and third. The pressure is on the pitcher and catcher not to screw up and cost the team a run. It’s all a game of nerves. What’s the rush? Are there two more teams warming up under the stands to play next? Aren’t these the major leagues?”

Again I agreed with him.

Looking downcast he turned to me and asked: “What have they done to my game?”

I had to admit I sometimes ask the same question.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Confession of a High Five Failure

The world is full of people who represent a wide range of colours, religions, a cacophony of languages, and cultures galore. For the most part, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. But some of these people excel at really important things that can make them a whole lot of money and even fame. Think Tiger Woods with golf or Pavarotti with opera. Other people are standouts in less well-known undertakings, such as beer drinking races or surviving the annual bull run in Spain.

Let me come clean here, for me that thing – and I must admit in all honesty that it is just one of many of the shortcomings that I have come to live with – is the ability to high-five. 

Of course, the opposite is true as well; most of us have at least one thing that we just cannot seem to master. Let me come clean here, for me that thing – and I must admit in all honesty that it is just one of many of the shortcomings that I have come to live with – is the ability to high-five. People used to shake hands (or, as the British prefer to say, shake each other by the hand, which always evokes images in my mind of someone brandishing their acquaintance over their head) but at some point, the high-five came into the mainstream from its original spot on playing fields.

Athletes have for years congratulated each other with the slap of a high-five. But more and more I find people greeting each other in the same manner, which is where I have my problem. No matter how much I anticipate the high-five, I always seem to just miss the raised hand. My hand slips off the other and we end up in what might best be called a sort-of-high-elbow-to-forearm.

Bump

I have sought coaching for my inability and was told not to look at the elevated palm, but to focus on the approaching elbow. Then just let her rip and voila hand-to-hand contact is sure to follow. I must admit that does work, but I all too often forget about it and find myself watching the two hands sideswipe each other.

Call it what you want, it has been a welcome relief to me, as a high-five disaster looking for a place to happen.

But all is not lost. Fortunately along came the fist bump, made popular by President Barack Obama. I am much better at this little salute than the high-five. The shorter distance allows for better accuracy, the knuckles provide some traction. All-in-all this is a much better means of casual greeting or ‘giving props’, defined as extending proper respect to someone. Call it what you want, it has been a welcome relief to me, as a high-five disaster looking for a place to happen.

Mind you, there are still those who, like the overly tight handshaker, feel they have to punch rather than bump. Cretins both of them, a mere bump will suffice thank you. You’re not Muhammad Ali and I’m not Joe Frazier.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Release That Parking Spot

In the photo above we see a Montreal Parking Enforcement Officer’s car parked in a perfectly legal spot. Why? In a city with a dearth of legal parking spots, it seems to me that a car that will never be given a ticket – this goes for police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks as well –  should never take up a legal parking spot! Release that spot for a paying customer, please! There are plenty of illegal spots to park your car while you are out of it fining others for illegal parking. No need to make the search just that much harder.

 

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Quebec Law Banning Face Covering Passed

Aislin62

Allow me to express my opinion now that the legislature of my province has passed a controversial law. Known as Bill 62, it bans the wearing of face covers when providing or receiving any public service. This means that here in Quebec, should you be on your way to a protest march you must remove that very popular Anonymous mask while on the bus or metro.

This means that here in Quebec, should you be on your way to a protest march you must remove that Anonymous mask while on the bus or metro.

That’s the simple part of the law. Where it becomes contentious is when niqab and burqa wearers enter the equation. Muslim women are required to wear some form head covering. The most common garment here is the hijab, a headscarf that does not cover the face. Niqabs and burqas cover the entire face of the wearer and then some.

While I disagree with the whole concept of making women cover their faces in principle, the enforcement of the law will make things worse. When I was young bus drivers not only drove the bus, they also sold tickets and made change. This not only interfered with their concentration while driving but made them easy targets for robbers.

Headware

Now it seems bus drivers will have to act as ‘scarf police’, telling niqab and burqa-wearing women that they cannot ride the bus unless they remove their face covering. I have not heard the drivers’ union reaction yet, but I can’t imagine they will be in favour of this new task.

… but I fear more for the Muslim women who may meet up with a driver who has no problem at all and takes advantage of the situation to enforce his or her bias.

Exam invigilators at colleges and universities, if public, will also be required to ask that face coverings be removed if the person is to be allowed to write the exam. I agree with this fully as it eliminates the possibility of having someone else write the exam, say someone who is much better at physics that the actual student.

It seems to me that the potential for conflict far outweighs the usefulness of this law. I feel for the bus drivers who may not be comfortable with their new role, but I fear more for the Muslim women who may meet up with a driver who has no problem at all and takes advantage of the situation to enforce his or her bias.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Strange UPS Pick-Up Point

My wife ordered something that was to be delivered by UPS. Not surprisingly they attempted to make the delivery when we were out. No problem, they left a sticker indicating where we could pick up the package the next day. There is a UPS Store not far from our place that I assumed was the pick-up point, but I was wrong.

I was going to take a photo, but not being all that brave and sensing this was not the kind of place that cameras would be welcomed, I gave it a miss.

As I strolled along the street toward the UPS Store I checked the sticker and realize that this was not the spot. The Store has a 4100 address while the sticker had 1810 on the same street as the place I wanted. Okay, no problem, it was on my way to where I was going anyway, but I was curious as I could not picture another UPS Store in the area.

Along I meandered in the autumn sun enjoying a beautiful day all the while approaching the address on the sticker. As I was on the correct block I still could not fathom where I was headed and started to re-read the sticker in case I had made a mistake, or had the driver been wrong. Nope, all was clear.

When I arrived at 1810 I had to look long and hard to find the UPS decal on the door of what is essentially a pawn shop. I made my way in and found several people already in the small shop. Two staff were busy with customers buying and/or selling mostly electronic goods. So I waited. It was while I was biding my time that I noticed a handwritten sign that carried the message: UPS customers please wait. If you have any questions about the store please feel free to ask. I was going to take a photo, but not being all that brave and sensing this was not the kind of place that cameras would be welcomed, I gave it a miss.

In other words serving UPS clients, who evidently bring no monetary reward to the store, … is second on the list after dealing with actual paying customers regardless of the order of arrival. 

In other words serving UPS clients, who evidently bring no monetary reward to the store, other than to drag people in, is second on the list after dealing with actual paying customers regardless of the order of arrival. A customer entering this little place after a UPS customer, but interested in buying an iPhone, is given priority.

I have never had any trouble with UPS (I did finally get the package), and I have always thought they have the very best toll-free number with 1-800-PICK-UPS but they really have to give some thought to the kind of place they send their clients to. With so many UPS Stores, why use third-party outlets at all?

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Montreal Mayoralty Candidate With a Twist

It’s municipal election campaign time in Montreal. Along with countless radio interviews and television appearances featuring candidates from all parties, the city is awash with posters. Most streets are festooned with posters attached to posts, poles, and walls.

Not surprisingly these posters, with lovely full-colour photographs of candidates, are often vandalized. Sometimes it is harmless doodles such as eyeglasses or a mustache, sometimes a criticism or the candidate and unfortunately the occasional racist comment.

One candidate, Tyler Lemco, who is seeking the mayor’s chair – well, sort of – has solved the problem by posting signs and encouraging people to deface them. As reported in the Montreal Gazette: It’s his first election campaign, but not his first election-sign campaign. In the 2015 federal election, he put up several posters featuring his name, his face, a city of Montreal logo and his slogan: “Not running for anything, I just wanted a sign.”

I happened to pass one of his signs yesterday and although I did not succumb to the temptation I was amused by one comment in particular about not wanting to be told what to do. A great representation of how you can please some of the people some of the time …….

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+

Exceptional Enforcement of Supermarket Rule

If you read this blog regularly you know that I have had my share of supermarket incidents including the BBQ chicken knock down. I am quick to criticise so it behooves me to be equally prompt in praising those who do the correct thing. Yesterday I witnessed an exceptional display of the proper enforcement of supermarket regulations.

On the way home yesterday I stopped by the same supermarket that has been the bane of my shopping experiences. I had four items. I also had to have lottery tickets validated which ruled out all but the customer service cash as this store does not allow cashiers at other check-outs to process tickets.

I am quick to criticise so it behooves me to be equally prompt in praising those who do the correct thing. Yesterday I witnessed an exceptional display of the proper enforcement of supermarket regulations.

At the eight or fewer items service cash the scene was: one woman was finishing the payment process; next was a woman with at least 15 items in her cart; then a woman with just one product and me. There were people behind me but they did not factor into the incident.

As the first woman was completing her transaction and moving off, the next in line began placing her items on the conveyor belt. The one-item woman in front of me caught my eye and drew my attention to the number of products in the cart. I shrugged and chose not to get involved, lest I really make a name for myself in this store.

The lady put exactly eight items on the counter, placed an order separator and proceeded to put more items. Here’s the good part; when the cashier finished with the paying customer, turned and saw how many items were there she pointed out that it was eight or less at this cash. The woman, evidently ready for this said I am shopping for two people. The cashier, God bless her, stood her ground and told the woman she could not do that unless the other person was with her.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an ogre; 9 or ten items at the eight or less cash is no big deal.

Annoyed, the woman left her items on the counter and said, are you going to make me take them off and go to another line? Yes ma’am, said the cashier. Sure enough, the woman swept her items back into her cart and made off for the end of another line, but not before glaring at me for some reason (has my reputation grown to that size?). I merely shrugged but could not contain myself entirely, saying nice try. She mumbled something about it not being a try but an honest attempt. As many kids say these days, whatever.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an ogre; 9 or ten items at the eight or less cash is no big deal. But the deliberate attempt to skip the line was too much. I thanked the cashier for imposing the rules and thereby ensuring the smooth flow of the express cash.

DCMontreal – Deegan Charles Stubbs – is a Montreal writer born and raised who likes to establish balance and juxtapositions; a bit of this and a bit of that, a dash of Yin and a soupçon of Yang, some Peaks and an occasional Frean and maybe a bit of a sting in the tail! Please follow DCMontreal on Twitter and on Facebook, and add him on Google+