Oh the irony.
I’m surprised the Ottawa courthouse didn’t spontaneously combust today.
Fun watching Wildrosers live down to the Wildroser stereotype (“bring your wife’s pie”) lashing out defensively on behalf of the law-abiding gun-owning hard-working tax-paying little guy of Alberta, while their Big Brothers up in Ottawa pretend it’s not them on trial for shoveling our money down their throats, and the throats of their friends.
Is it me? Or does the defence and the crown more or less boil down to “YABBUT”, with the defence putting the emphasis on “YA” and the crown on “BBUT”.
But then I read again today (stupid Facebook) the insistent claim that we need more “qualified professionals” to run for public office and we have to pay them well or they’ll go to the private sector where they can make more money and so on and so forth and more of the same etc etc.
I just thought I’d share that.
I’m on a break from separating dialogue out from narrative (if that’s the right word) to get a better idea of the book I want to write as opposed to the one that’s writing itself. You know what I mean. Anyway, off to do a shift.
Gosh, where would we be without “qualified professionals” in government, eh?
You’d think Canadians wouldn’t vote for politicians who do business with countries that stone women to death.
Okay I seem to be writing three books in one so at least two have to be edited out before I write anymore – right?
Just taking a break from “My Book! My Book!” to do a little blogging and perhaps a bit of a rethink about EVERYTHING.
I am currently seized with a crabbiness that has settled in my face so that I look like a crab apple doll.
It might be my new look. Perhaps I could let my eyebrows merge back from whence they came.
Speaking of eyebrows, I predict that Joe Oliver’s budget will do nothing to solve the problem of too many Canadians either borrowing money they won’t ever be able to pay back, or spending savings that were once meant for retirement, to keep ourselves fed and housed in the here and now.
Because there just aren’t enough jobs going around anymore that pay people the kind of money we were making before we were laid off.
How will we be able to afford all our retired baby boomers on fully indexed pensions when the only sector of the economy that’s growing is retail.
And retail isn’t the solution, it’s the problem.
Good luck to us.
As you’ve no doubt heard, I’ve been busy not blogging because I’m trying to write a book about my past year and a half in retail.
I know, what’s a girl like me doing etc etc.
Well, a series of terribly unambitious decisions, I guess, is the most honest explanation.
So it’s go big or go home time now, for sure. I even got giddy on sugar pie the other night and decided to insert place-savers for cartoons. They’re hilarious, although I’ve only drawn them in my head. Still, so far, so good.
I’ve got lots of words, too, including dialogue. It’s funny. You should buy a copy when it’s done. I can black out any naughty bits if you’d like – a custom book, just for you.
Anyway, I’m writing to you because up until yesterday I was on Twitter, but just to shout one-liners out into cyber space – the very reason Neil McDonald left Twitter and as far as I know has never returned. And it was great because I’d just make a couple of awesome tweets and then go about my day not caring about what anybody else was up to on Twitter.
But then, out of the blue yesterday, I learned how to follow a conversation.
No, I cannot get out of here.
So now instead of writing my book I’m following conversations on Twitter.
Now, I know you left Twitter once because Peter Mansbridge announced it on The National, which he did not do when Neil McDonald left Twitter, but whatever – I need to know how you did it.
Seriously, this is for real. My retirement (although I’m younger than I look – no wait, I look younger than I am – picture a middle-aged PeeWee Herman) depends on me becoming either a bestselling author (Canadian) or being discovered by Atom Egoyan, should he happen by the store to buy something over-priced for his mother.
Anyway, write soon.
P.S. Send money.
Just a pop in to say that it feels almost this morning as if a little justice has finally been served, the rocks being unturned as they are to reveal all sorts of unexpected delights.
But seriously, it’s like I’m having to shovel away the schadenfreude here so I can get back to “My book! My book! Won’t everyone please think of my book!”
Hard, I know, what with the trial of the millennium going on and the rocks being unturned and oh the schadenfreude!
And in keeping with my decade long tradition, no name from me. Hah! No need now, it’s all over cyber space anyway! Payment for cleaning services rendered.
Okay. Straighten up, soldier, back to work. I’m on chapter four now. I still haven’t met with N. to help me understand the scam so I can write about it. Who knew writing a book would take so much of my time?
I hope you like dialogue.
And thanks for all your comments, encouragement, etc. Okay. Off blogging, on writing. Again.
“Blogging is a career-killing waste of time!”
Never say never (again) – but – until I write a book, I am cut off this blog. Banned.
Be careful out there.
Flail about, go wild, be crazy, have fun.
It’s funny, but I knew this would happen, that the Conservative Christians who cheated so hard in the last election that they won a majority, would eventually take advantage of their ‘mandate’, trump up something into an excuse, and unilaterally send Canadian soldiers into war against Muslims living in the Middle East. All on our dime.
They want to be part of a crusade, they want them out of their holy land, whatever, I knew that Harper would find a way to take his troops (because they’re his, not ours) to war against the Islamic Menace.
He’s not a good guy, he’s a bad guy, and he’s been telling me that, at least, for several years now through his rhetoric and his actions.
You don’t think Harper would use public resources to sideline you if you got in his way? Of course he would. We know he would, or we should know it, because that’s what he does. That’s what his party does, too. They’re not good guys, they’re bad guys. And gals.
So what I didn’t expect was that my taxes would also end up supporting panels of ‘experts’ sitting around on our national broadcaster pretending that this is anything other than “clearly/obviously” insane.
*Ah, and there it is. Oil prices were up today.
Today a FB friend had a petition to sign about Employment Insurance. She’s a New Democrat and recent candidate for the last provincial election in Ontario.
I don’t sign online petitions. I blog. I figure that gives the bad guys in power enough of a heads up about where I stand politically, and if I get a call redirecting me to another polling booth on election day I’ll know it’s them.
But I’ve decided to get more involved with the anti-poverty group I accidentally gave enough money to that I ended up on its board of directors. And yes, if I’d known it meant attending workshops and rallies every other day, I would have given just under that amount.
So far I haven’t been to neither workshop nor rally because my paid work schedule is so random and I’m trying to write a book.
I know, I know, excuses, excuses. Also, I can’t be on my feet any more than I am now. My hips ache in the morning as it is.
But I did get a button to wear on my bag, the little catchall I bought at the Thrift Store. And next month the ragtag band plans to picket Stephen Harper’s office for a higher minimum wage, even though that’s really a provincial responsibility.
Hm, maybe I should get more involved. If anything to keep my eye on that criminal organization otherwise known as Rogers, which is pretending to be on offer as helping out people who live in poverty with cheap internet.
How about stopping extorting money from people who don’t, first?
Anyway, I shop at the Thrift Store not because I’m living in poverty – yet – but because I’m frugal and also slim. Women are terrible for buying clothes they plan to fit into one day, so slim women can really score at the Thrift Store when less slim women finally come to their senses.
Guilty myself, if you can believe it. I’ve bought too small clothes at the Thrift Store because I like the fabric and imagine I’ll re-purpose it. Then after a while I wash it again and return it to the Thrift Store. They always offer me a credit, which I always decline.
It’s my way of stopping the insanity, a financial penalty for buying stuff I don’t use. Also, my way of giving to charity, since the Thrift Store gets the money for the clothes twice.
And yes, I’ve repurchased the odd item thinking I’d make a pillow cover or leather purse that I inevitably return a second time. Right now, though, there’s a university girl working at the store who’s slimmer than me, so I pass on items to her. She’s super-stylish, though, so only if it’s a real score.
Anyway, the petition placed ‘hard-working’ before Canadians and I’ve decided I’m offended by the term. Our rights shouldn’t be made to appear conditional on hard work, and it’s one of the problems I have with the NDP that it’s such a labour oriented group of people.
There is no virtue in work, and certainly no virtue in work for pay, so it would be nice if New Democrats, at least, would stop pretending there is.
Because you know who has a small carbon footprint? People who panhandle in downtown Ottawa.
And what are our taxes being used for by the politicians who drive by them in the limousines we pay for with all our hard work?
Dropping bombs on people halfway across the world.
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