Random thoughts occurring to a random bloke…
Stephen Harper won a second term as Prime Minister of Canada yesterday. Congratulations, Steve, you’ve managed to “dominate” a relatively benign race between yourself an a few truly uninspiring national characters. Time and money well spent. Despite my half-assed efforts to prevent the inevitable, I’d say, it was a lack-luster job well done.
So what if you only squeaked out a minority, you picked up 12 seats in Parliament, right? Speaking of half-assed efforts. Shit…
I just arrived home from St. Therese of the Child of Jesus School where I cast my ballot to vote an ever increasingly absurd “sweater vest” out of office. I urge my fellow Canadian citizens to partake in similar actions, in their respective areas.
But I guess anything can and will happen. Face it, Harper got in once, it can’t be that hard to do it again. What with the bar, so obviously, being set so low.
Why is it we don’t expect or get any more than the bare minimum?
I was rootin’ through my RSS feeds this morning when I came across “The Horn Of Plenty Offers Plenty Of Things Besides Carcass” on Propagandhi’s website;
“Please, save a turkey the ultimate insult of having to coarse through your rotten, filthy, substandard bowels and then pour out into the toilet the day after Thanksgiving. Thank you. Have a good day. Say ‘Hello’ to your relatives for me…”
What could I ever hope to add to The Rod’s sentiment, except, of course, say “Hello” to your family from me, too. Happy Thanksgiving…
Well the moment I’d been dreading all week came today, my Grandmother’s memorial. For obvious reasons, of course, but, rather selfishly, I was nervous about being asked if the piece I wrote after her passing could be read as “part of the proceedings.”
You know, if I’d been asked earlier this week, I’m quite sure I’d have said no. There’s something about having the words I write, read back to me that leaves me feeling awkward and subtlety embarrassed. Sounds strange, I know. Because it is. What can I say? It’s the introvert in me.
But, more to my point, I was “dreading” being asked, mostly, on account of it was an exceptionally hard bit to write so soon after hearing she was gone. And I wasn’t at all comfortable with my reaction in response to my ramblings being spoken aloud, not only to myself, but a room full of people…