The National Post and Me
How come it has money for Kate McMillan and Kathy Shaidle, but I got let go as a freelancer because there supposedly wasn't enough money in the budget for little ol' stay-at-home Mom me? Eh? Well? How come?
Anyway, seeing as I'm up for some 4, count 'em, 4 blogging awards at: SoYouThinkYou'reAFeminist,Eh? I thought I'd better make fun of somebody who's not up for 4, count 'em, 4 blogging awards but who is having WAY more success with the paying MSM than anyone who is up for 4, count 'em 4, blogging awards.
Gawd. That vast "Definitely Not Feminist" conspiracy, eh? It's gets me, right in the cheque book. Well, until I'm hired as a full-time columnist, let the boycott continue, I say.
Anyway, here's Kate McMillan's column, for which she is a hero among all the non-Feminists out there in Rightwing blogger whirld as well as in the MSM via the National Post.
If I sound bitter, Dear Reader, it's because I am. But all in good fun.
Now, I have taken what I say are the key points in Ms. McMillan's column and elaborated on them to save you the bother of reading it, Dear Reader. It's basically Kate McMillan whining about how other Canadians are too whiny these days (a view I TOTALLY agree with, by the way - especially when it comes to those Men's Rights groups - shut the fuck up and get shovelling, asshat!) to get brain damage or lung cancer or die of starvation:
WhatAboutTheRetards?ShouldTheyWear2Helmets?
Okay, here's Kate on people dying nobly of diptheria (unlike today, I guess when people have to lobby for the right to "die with dignity" - a cult which scares me a bit, the "right to die with dignitiers", because I'm hoping to really dodge and weave when the crabby hand of death tries to strike me dead):
The account makes no mention of grief counsellors.
Maybe they were the first to die of diptheria, Kate. Didja ever think of that? Eh? Well? Didja? Hunh? Gawd works in mysterious ways, you know. Sometimes, really fucked up mysterious ways, too. Really twisted and evil and, well, funny, I guess, if it's not you getting worked on, ways.
When the sea of societal ills is so shallow that "phone calls I don't like" is scraped from the bottom and added to the legislative agenda, when the public tolerance for disagreeable things has dropped so low that "I have to hold my breath" is a complaint worthy of the commiseration of 100,000 radio listeners, we have a problem.
Yeah, well I hear ya there, Kate. Hello? Radio losers? Ever hear of the Internet? It's a whole cyber whirld invented by Al Gore that's sitting there waiting all day 24/7 just for you. You can complain about ANYTHING, ANYTIME on the Internet. But you know what would be funny? If smoking was allowed ONLY in the House of Commons. And hospitals. That'd learn people to run for political office or get sick. And since I have no plans to do either, SKRU U GYZ!!! (Buttons for sale when I start my CafePress site, everybody.)
This is why I have come to believe that what Canadians need most at this moment in our history is a good famine.
Er, okay. You lost me there a bit. Climate Change? That might do it. If it's real, I mean, and not just a giant hoax perpetrated by the melting Arctic ice. Otherwise, I dunno - the government could stop subsidizing farmers and the banks could call in all their loans, I guess. Food could be priced according to what it actually costs to produce. We could stop importing food grown and picked overseas by slave labour. Gee, okay. There are lots of ways we could induce a famine, Kate - even without climate change. Right on. Okay.
A half million 20-somethings would emerge from their parents' basements, if only to search for food.
Ah, I see where you are going with the whole famine thing now. Nope. They'd just head on over to Gramma's house where she's got a full-sized freezer still stocked with meat from 1970. It's a fact, Kate. A Canadian fact. It would take years for the effects of a famine to be felt in Canada - thanks to all those crazy old ladies who lived throught the Great Depression so that they could burden the rest of us with their baby boomer offspring and ridiculous hoarding habits.
Heheh - crazy ol cunts. Ya gotta love 'em, though. To get those random cheques for $1,000, I mean. "Ya, ma. It's called inflation. Remember? You're the one who voted for Trudeau. Not me. And baby needs new shoes."
