The whole Canadian Lego Glock snafu somehow zipped past me without really piquing my interest until I read the mention of it over at Blunt Object's blog. That was the first time I read that the whole fracas, SWAT team and all, was caused because some invertebrate in a nearby office was Gladys Kravitzing through the window and saw that our future SWAT team tackling dummy had in his hands what looked like a pistol.
Not "...had what looked like a pistol and was pointing it at people."
Not "...had what looked like a pistol and was pulling on a ski mask."
Not "...had what looked like a pistol, and a dozen sticks of dynamite taped to his L.L. Bean hiker's vest and was hollering "Allahu akhbar!"."
Nope, he just had a pistol in his hands.
Apparently the mere sight of a gun, not even being used in any kind of hostile manner, is enough to provoke panic sweat and jittery 911 calls in today's Toronto. One can imagine that when the cops showed up with their heaters, the caller completely lost continence.
One has to wonder how such a toothless creature musters up the towering courage it must require to emerge from under the covers in the morning and scurry to the bathroom without having an OHIP-paid psychiatrist waiting in the john to help talk him through the trauma.