So it comes down to the lesser of 2 evils, yes, that's me, the pragmatist, devoting my time to the cause of the month. A winter election is such a waste of time, its like perhaps the silliest idea besides having an election body that is run by a political appointee. So looks like I am working my way up the hierarchy of the biggest political machine in Canadian history.
But lets talk about my lack of production
Yes, that goes to writers block, its been real bad for a while now, but something in my head is letting me write again. The fire was out, some aspects of student journalism can make me that frustrated. But something inside me reawoken my energy, my angst and atittude to pick up the keyboard and pontificate like the man in his pointy white hat in Rome.
I think it was when I was reading the post today, and realized that I am better than most of their staff. If I wanted to read 250 word AP and CP snippets i'd pefer yahoo.ca or a website, not a broadsheet. The Aspers have gutted that paper, Lord Black at least tried to compete with the Globe and suburban Star. Then another bomb dropped, I opened up a magazine that came with the globe the other day. This waste of glossy paper was called Privlidge magazine. Magazine is a very loose term for this rag, it was more like a catalogue for some wealthy people, and a platform for salesmen to push their wares under the guise of a written column. Nothing pisses me off like shamless advertorial, and a lack of any journalistic ethics. Especially in the name of commericalism, perhaps this should be a sin.
That awoke something self righteous and defiance in me, and to say the least, I would have written them a nasty letter to the editor, but the bloody rag doesn't even have a letters page. When your one concern is selling expensive goods, and a consumption driven lifestyle, there is no room for intelligent conversation or real opinions. For example, its so much fun seeing a magazine launch in glossy photos at its founding party, but real journalists arent that sexy. You would never catch any legend like Jennings, Cronkite, Newman, or Thompson anywhere near anything like that.
Pardon my french, but where the fuck do they get off on that total bullshit? One particular article that almost made me puke, was by some woman real estate agent, purportedly saying that a woman would prefer expensive real estate to diamonds, or something personal. Honey, would you prefer Tiffany diamonds, or a new place to store your spare designer furniture.
Either she is a greedy bitch, or living in a real estate dream world. Nothing says I love you like a downtown condo, or an unfurnished loft in the distillery district. I can safely asssume, that both are true. Real Estate agents are the modern day equivalent of those travelling hucksters that used to plague small towns across the frontier in the 19th century. Who else would put a big dumb picture of themself on the side of a bus.
When the editor in chief is showing off a gold watch in his magazine pic, you know he isn't a journalist, because most journalists don't have gold watches, unless they are on CNN or something, and they don't waste their time with MBA's.
That is one degree that doesn't teach about the rules of editorial content and journalistic integrity. It's this type of rich tackiness, that makes me want to put Donald Trump in a headlock just to mess up his hair and call him a little bitch. Now that would be the highest rated apprentice ever. We could have Donald shot out of cannon, get him "fired". His casino went bankrupt, and his real estate is a year or 2 away from having its bubble burst. Lets just hope for the best, and watch the mighty combover fall.
An honourary mention has to go to the late Doctor himself. Hunter has turned into a real inspiration with his incredible insight, as well as his gonzo tangents. Privilidge magazine reminded me of the swine and greed we call the 1980's. The Gonzo papers go into that pittiful era, the one with Mulroney and Reagan making out, the irish lover boys were in control of 2 of the richest nations in the world. What a dangerous time for us all. A syncophant, and a senile man, running this continent. Makes me yearn to a day when Conservatives were actually progressive, and understood, that a national government in this country requires MP's in Ontario and Quebec, not just around the oil patch out west. They live in a white washed fantasy land of oil money. Please take some immigrants, believe it or not, they like it here too.... Thats enough Gonzo for one evening. This magazine belongs in the back of a Delorian, not an insert into the Globe and Mail.
I fear my love of politics has reared itself back, I have this desire to work in some far flung diplomatic outpost like Ottawa and put my plan of Canada and world improvement in place. Free trade works, as long as its fair, no cheating allowed George. Foreign policy, trade, poverty, all run in veins in my head, full of genius policy idea that could make us look good, and really put things into perspective. Pragmatism has its advantages, thats for sure, it allows for adapting, and therefore creates an atmosphere of compromise and gamesmanship. I want to be the man pulling the strings, making the political puppet talk. Thats where the power lies, and thats where it easiest to assume control away from the house and the scrum.
But in this campaign, the seat is safe, the candidate said it best, if we can't hold Pickering-Scarborough east, we won't win 15 seats. And for the record I am not talking about crazy Jack with the stacks, and the NDP. Lets all hope, we send those crazy socialists back to the 80's with Jack Layton, mustache and all belong, on that City Council, back in the day.
pollution burns my tongue, cough words I can't speak so Istop my struggling, then I float to the surface, fill my lungs with air, then let it out