From No Sense to Nonsense – Here We Come!
What does “good steward of the economy” even mean?
And I hope when the middle-class 905 is the working-poor 905 they finally get it that one man’s balanced budget is another woman’s lowered standard of living. (But it’s all good. The less we can afford to buy, the less we will buy, and we all want to downsize anyway, don’t we?)
By the way, if you don’t think Canada Post is being sabotaged from within, then you haven’t been waiting three weeks for a cheque to arrive from across town.
Remember when governing politicians weren’t behind the sabotage of public services and the public had someone to complain to who cared about them?
Those were the days. But now we are alone, my friends, each of us for ourselves, and good luck out there, we’re going to need it.
So my friend died, which is a relief because I couldn’t afford to fly out West and put a pillow over her face and I couldn’t stand to think of her losing her brilliant mind and being bewildered by her continued existence in this increasingly uncaring world.
Actually, I suppose I could have afforded it, but then I wouldn’t be able to afford to fly to the Sault in case I have to put a pillow over my mom’s face. I mean, no need yet, but I have to be ready and you’d be surprised how difficult it is to save up for for a return flight in Canada when you’re only making minimum wage.
Good thing I have savings to keep me going. Stephen Harper you are proving to be one longggggg rainy day.
But I’m going to stop complaining about being part-time because I couldn’t do my new retail job full-time anyway. Seriously, if you want to work off that last little bit of body fat you may have been clinging to to keep from freezing your ass off in Ottawa, get a job in retail.
Anybody else get the feeling that we won’t be able to keep up with the conditions climate change is bringing us? We just did the drive to and from Toronto in a brand new rental for a family wedding and wow, I think our highways should be renamed “UpsideDownAbandonedVehicleWays”.
It’s terrifying driving on the 401 with all those deregulated tractor trailers, eh? I hate it when you’re sandwiched between them and the one in front starts weaving and the one behind is right up your trunk and the one beside is close enough to reach out and touch.
But I drove us out of Toronto because I actually lived in Toronto (although never drove there) and I’m embarrassed that I’m not more useful so I just made myself do it.
Sooey Tip of the Day: Ask a person in uniform at the hotel for the best way out of the city and she’ll tell you to go along Gerrard until you hit River Road. Then turn left. Also, ask her where you’ll be when you exit the underground parking because the first time I did it I thought I was exiting the way we came in and was so turned around that I had to take my brain out of my head and scrub it clean so I would stop driving southwest instead of northeast.
Downtown Toronto needs help. Send money.
Why do people who live in the suburbs of big cities think that people move to big cities because of their suburbs and not because of their downtowns? I mean, we don’t live in downtown Ottawa, but we’re not idiots, so we know that the value of our house has everything to do with the appeal of downtown Ottawa and not much to do with the appeal of our semi-suburban location.
Do the homeowners of Etobicoke think that people want to move to Toronto because of Mississauga?
So yeah, it’s what my friend would have wanted (a pillow over her face) and I knew it was what she would have wanted so I’m glad the crabby hand of death swatted her dead quickly and she didn’t have to live too long not knowing who she was.
Full disclosure: There was a webcast of the funeral, to which I was invited via telephone, that I didn’t watch.
I didn’t even send a scan of the photograph my ex took of her years ago, as requested, because I left it all too late and our scanner is a piece of junk and it was cold and I have that minimum wage job and, oh yes, I’m a terrible friend in death.
She’d probably tell you I’m not that great a friend in life, either, since I never once went out to Edmonton to visit her.
Who the hell moves from Toronto to Edmonton?
I know, I know, who the hell moves from Toronto to Ottawa?
It’s colder’n a witch’s tit here, as my not so dear departed Uncle would say.
My friend was fascinated by my Uncle. She loved hearing stories about what an awful person he was. Once, we were driving to church on Christmas day (he had studied to be a United Church minister at one point in his life) – just the two of us – and he was so frantic and keyed up about weather/time and also driving with the emergency brake on that a couple of old ladies passed us.
So he rolled down the window and yelled, “Merry Christmas, you old cunts!”
Fortunately, they were long gone. Later he parked the car by sliding into a snowbank and later still slammed the church door in a woman’s face. She was holding a baby, too.
I think I remember suggesting to him that she might have been Mary, but I could be making that up.
And yes, you should feel sorry for me as he came every Christmas and we went on several holidays with him in the summer and I had a very warped childhood as a result.
Or did I? My friend grew up with her grandparents above a hair salon in Tillsonburg and picked tobacco in the summers wearing long white gloves and a big straw hat to protect her skin from the sun. Her father split when she was young, but she got back in touch with him in university and told him he had to start paying for university.
He did, too. But her mother remained, remains, forever bitter about life.
My friend was fatalistic about it.
Anyway, I do plan to scan her photograph and put it on my blog at some point so you can see how exotic and beautiful she was.
She’d be really mad about me not scanning and sending the photograph to her funeral. She was really proud of her look.
Once I was walking with her along Dalhousie back in the days when that’s where Ottawa’s prostitutes strutted their stuff. Cars were slowing down and men were leaning out their windows.
She looked like a madam of a brothel and I wanted to yell at them, “In your wildest wet dreams, you morons! She’s the madam, not one of the girls!”
Really, I think I’m just going to pretend she’s still alive out in Edmonton. Why not? I’ll never go to Edmonton to not visit her and we’ll call it even, how’s that. In fact, I may not go anywhere anymore. We’re not keeping up with climate change, are we, we’re fubar and it’s only just begun.
At Kingston I had to hand over the wheel because I’d hit so much black ice that I was completely unnerved and couldn’t make myself drive faster than 80 kilometers an hour.
Old lady Sooey at the wheel, that was me.
The upside down abandoned vehicles with yellow tape around them littering the sides of the highway didn’t do much to inspire confidence, but if you didn’t know it was all accidental you’d think it was a modern art exhibition.
I’m getting a kick out of the rich old guy who can’t seem to stop comparing what’s happening to the 1% (i.e. they’re getting richer at our expense) to the Holocaust. It’s a daring comparison, even for the ex-husband of Danielle Steel. My guess is he had one too many bloodies on the lanai and the next thing he knew it was “Jeeves, get me my pen!” and the letter to the editor was duly posted.
But I welcome the continued downsizing of my sister and brother homies of the 99% (i.e. the 1% of the world) because I think it may be the only way to stop the crazy train, which has become not so much a metaphor for life as a fact of it, as trains that governing politicians know aren’t safe for transporting dangerous products continue to kill citizens en route to the unsafe transport of dangerous products to the other side of the world where the air is unbreathable.
Aside: In response to a story in the Guardian about how China’s 1% has grabillions of dollars in offshore accounts, the cabal of Communist dictators who own China banned the Guardian.
But that reminds me of a statistic: 1% of Lac Megantic was killed due to governing politicians, whose job it is to protect the health and well-being of citizens, deregulating industry in the interests of a different 1%, a 1% that doesn’t know or care about the human beings who are sacrificed by a crazy train en route to their bank accounts.
Perhaps when we can’t afford to do anything or go anywhere the 905 will have learned what comes of electing politicians who want to run government like a business instead of like a government.
Either that or unelected CEOs are going to have to start running their businesses like governments.
Although, to be fair, Rogers already more or less does sort of remind me of what government kind of used to be like back in the day.
Whatever, somebody has to start taking responsibility for our collective health and well-being. In the meantime, I’ve got to admit, the less money I make, the better I feel about life, death and everything in between, so I guess you could call it stepping up to greet the new normal.