Thursday, August 31, 2006

Ted Morton's Confederacy of Dunces

I see that Ted Morton, the head of Alberta's Confederacy of Dunces, has been riding off to war again on his burro. And once again not getting very far. It's good to see that are still some decent Canadians left in that province.

As for the wacko professor from the sinister Calgary School of Jungle Capitalism (President Harper's alma mater) he has been stirring up a fuss ever since he decided to become a Canadian back in 1991. At the age of forty-two.

When he's not after gays and lesbians, this California-born neocon nutbar blathers on about abortion, or about the eastern bastards, or why our Supreme Court judges should be burned at the stake, or why Alberta should separate, or should be ruled according to God's laws etc etc. If it was up to him and his burro the wall in the picture would go right around the province. Remember this treasonous Alberta Uber Alles document?

Which would be ok with me. But does lead me to ask two simple questions.

One. Why does this deranged homophobe think that him and his neocon wingnuts need to build a wall around Alberta? With Morton and his lynch mob stinking out the joint, why would any decent Canadian really want to live there?

And two. If he doesn't like Canada the way it is. And wants to turn it into a copy of wingnut Amerika.

Why doesn't this loser just turn his burro around?

And go back to where he came from...

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Harpo, Chimp, and the Talking Gas Pump

Wow I'm so excited. Great Leader has landed a role on Corner Gas. Although I'm very disappointed that he's playing himself. (Yawn) What a bore. I was hoping for something like a disgraced preacher, or a snake oil salesman. Even a stand still role as Hump the Talking Pump would have been better than that. Can you imagine the dialogue?

"Hey hoser who needs Kyoto when you got gas?" (Burp)
"Hey wheathead is this good ol' boy Alberta gas or what? (Fart)

But no. We get President Harpo playing himself....... as a nice guy. Ooh boy, that's going to be a stretch. Talk about waaaaaay beyond normal. I wonder which one of his five communication directors came up with that one? Probably the same one who put the Mark of the Booger on him. Remind me to miss it when it comes out.

But as pathetic and cloyingly fake as that performance no doubt was, nothing could compete with the absolutely grotesque choreographed performance put on by Chimp Bush in New Orleans today.

He made it sound like it was all about him when it was really all about their pain. How can these poor, mostly black people come back to New Orleans when there is nothing for them there? What are his chillums supposed to live on? Slave rations and watermelons?

Two pathetic leaders, two fraudulent performances. The only difference between the two of them is that President Harper is just a phony, and President Chimp is going senile. So he's got an excuse. (h/t to Ti-Guy)

Hmmm.... let's hope that nothing serious happens in North America before this endless B-movie is over...

And we can give both bums the hook. (loud applause)

Before they bring down the house...

Monday, August 28, 2006

Those Magnificent Little Flying Machines

When I stumbled bleary-eyed into my garden this morning after watching the Turkish Grand Prix, I was already feeling kind of bad. The arrogant hun got some points. And Sebastien read my last post and said it made him feel like killing himself. Talk about a deadly review. Oh yeah it was raining too. Talk about a horrible morning.

Then as I looked up I got another nasty shock. Some of the leaves on the trees in my garden appeared to have given up the ghost overnight and turned orange and red. Oh my ju ju deity I thought. Don't tell me this miserable little excuse for a summer is over before I even got a chance to enjoy it? Damm. As if it isn't dark enough living under this dreadful neocon regime. Even the summers are shorter. What the fuck ever happened to global warming?

Then the red and orange leaves began to fly wildly around, and suddenly I felt a whole lot better. They weren't leaves after all. Just dozens of Monarch butterflies resting up before their amazing journey home.

I don't know about you but I love these magnificent little flying machines. The colour they bring to our fields and gardens. The way they dart and bob and dive around. Or manage to find their way back to their home in Mexico. Leaving from places all over North America, and arriving in their lush valleys just about all at the same time. I was sad when their numbers started to decline a few years ago. So I was delighted to see that this year there has been a butterfly boom.

It turns out that people were able to rescue the butterflies by doing the smart and right thing so everyone came out a winner.

Too bad we can't do the same thing for people...

Here's an example of two kinds of residential housing in Toronto. On one side of the street one of the many new condos sprouting up like mushrooms all along the waterfront.

On the other side of the street one of the many places where the city's thousands of homeless people spend the night. A strip of rubber, and a torn white sheet tucked behind a tree in a park.

It's not very good when it rains, like it did last night. And it can be dangerous. Last year two homeless young punks beat an old homeless man to death there. But city workers who clean up the pizza slice boxes, and empty bottles of cheap booze, leave the rubber strip behind. Because they know too many people depend on it. It's got one of the lowest vacancy rates in town.

But while they can't build enough fancy condos, or find enough people to fill them, there is nothing for the poor. After years of not building any affordable housing they recently started building some again. But it's so very little and so very late it's going to take years to catch up.

Because we didn't do the right and Canadian thing, our cities are now full of miserable, desperate, and sometimes even dangerous people. We've had to spend millions of dollars dealing with the symptoms and the casualties. We didn't save any money, all we did was hurt the helpless, and lose our souls.

It's that kind of crazy stuff that sometimes make me feel like giving up. But not today. Today the butterflies cheered me up in three ways.

One, they reminded me that summer still isn't over. Whew! Still plenty of time to embrace my inner monkey.

Two, if those magnificent little flyers can beat their fragile wings all the way to Mexico, we can do anything. Even reclaim our beautiful country and its values, from the hideous and heartless neocons with their dog eat dog mentality, who would turn our society into a jungle.

And three, those bright red and orange flappers also reminded me that in the unlikely event that we lose, and the dark night Canada is going through right now gets even darker. And I decide not to join the resistance. I can always strap on my fancy pair of wings.

And follow them. Flappity flap flap.

To where it's always summer...

Thursday, August 24, 2006

The Dunce and the Terrorist Conspiracy

Uh oh lock up your children. Run for cover. The ReformCon dunce is loose in the land again. And this time it's not just dum. It's dangerous.

First the buffoon disgraces Parliament by putting down Canadians who fought the fascists during the Spanish Civil War. And minimizes the role played by Hitler and Mussolini.

Then he says the real Nazis are Hezbollah, after declaring that a woman's right to choose is undemocratic Or that gays have the right to marry as long as they marry heterosexuals

Now it turns out the dunce has been hanging with terrorists. And he says he didn't even know it? Is this a terrorist conspiracy, a protestation of cretinism, or an insanity plea? Are these ReformCons really our government? God save us all.

Oh speaking about that...please whatever you do, DON'T show him this story.

He might make a beeline for the Middle East to await the Rapture. And probably end up starting World War Three.

Without even knowing it....

As you know I blame this deplorable state of affairs on the dunce's lifelong obsession with chastity. But I thought it only caused your private parts to shrivel up, not your brain as well. Oh well...... at least the solution is obvious.

How about hooking him up with a hot little number of the paranoid persuasion?
Think of all the hot times they could have together. Swapping conspiracy theories if nothing else. From one cyborg to another.

And if that doesn't work? Memo to President Harper: If you can't stop your attack dunce from talking crazy. If the muzzle isn't big enough or keeps slipping off. Will you please remove its voicebox? Or better still.

Just castrate it,

After all, don't castration and chastity go together.

Like neocons and nutbars?

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

President Harper's Shameful Ultimatum

So President Harper wants us to accept a humiliating surrender document. Or he'll call an early election before the Liberals have chosen a new leader. Is that a double whammy, or treason, or what?

Everyone knows the deal is a lousy one. That it makes a mockery of the free trade agreement. And allows the government of Chimpbushistan to tell our provinces what to do. Everyone knows that the right and Canadian thing to do would be to fight it in the courts. Everyone knows we would win.

But the little chi hua hua and his pack of yankee loving flunkies still want us to bend over and take it up the ass. And they're counting on the separatists to help hold us down, while the Bushies have their fun. With a billion dollars they stole from us. Screwing us over and over again.

Isn't it about time we got rid of these surrender monkeys before they sell off the rest of our beautiful country?

Maybe an election wouldn't be such a bad idea.

If these chimpy stooges are cruising for a bruising.

Why don't we give them one?

Monday, August 21, 2006

From Culloden to Iraq

There is a moment in the bloody battle of Culloden that everyone in my clan knows by heart.

It's the moment when the victorious Duke of Cumberland was riding through the battlefield piled high with Scottish dead and wounded and came across the 20-year-old colonel of the Fraser regiment Charles Fraser.

"Who are you for" Cumberland shouted at the badly wounded Fraser.

Fraser replied defiantly "For the Prince!"

Cumberland turned to a young officer riding next to him and said "shoot him."

The 19-year-old officer refused saying his honour was worth more than his commission. His name was James Wolfe. Fraser was killed by another soldier who shot him in the head.

Wolfe would die on the Plains of Abraham thirteen years later. He's remembered for what happened there. But his real moment of glory came at Culloden.

Flash forward a few hundred years to a scene recounted in Thomas Ricks' excellent book Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq. When an American soldier Lt-Col Alexander Holshek challenges his commander Col. David Hogg. Just after the fall of Saddam.

HOLSHEK --- Sir what is the battlespace?

HOGG -- Wherever the enemy is

HOLSHEK -- Sir, wrong answer. The battlespace isn't physical, it's psychological.The battle is for the can kill every bad guy and there will be two more tomorrow. Until you start focusing on their support, active or positive, in the resident population...

They didn't listen to him, of course. And we all know the result.

Which leads me to what a young Canadian soldier wrote not so long ago... shortly after he arrived in Afghanistan.

"We all wait anxiously for the time we can leave this camp and head there to join the scrap, we can't wait to fight. The war drums are beating louder."

I wish him and his friends the best of luck. But I hope they remember that you don't win that kind of war by just killing a lot of Taliban. It's a question of winning hearts and minds.

And they should also remember a couple of other things too.

The Battle of Culloden, and the War in Iraq didn't need to be fought. All those people didn't need to die.

Chimp Bush is a bloody idiot. So is Stephen Harper.

And so was the Prince...

Friday, August 18, 2006

Harper and the Mark of the Booger

Ok. Ok. Hold on. Before you start accusing me of fucking around with President Harpo's face again, I want you to know I'm completely innocent this time. I got the picture off his very own official ReformCon Ministry of Propaganda and Disinformation web site.

Holy shit!!!! What's that big white blob on his nose? What have these monsters done to his face?

When I first saw it I thought it was amusing. I thought he had honked an enormous booger. And either his trained seals were too scared to tell him about it. Or Rona Ambrose wasn't there to wipe it off. These kind of things always happen to ReformCon nerds. When mummy isn't around.

Then I wondered whether the Ministry of Propaganda and Disinformation had been trying to carve a more heroic profile for Great Leader. And something had gone terribly wrong. But that too made me laugh. You'd need a chainsaw to do that. Not a photoshop brush.

But then I realized it might be a sign of something far more sinister. Could the fake skin be peeling away and revealing the robot within? Kalifornia Arnold Terminator baby achtung! Where are you when we need you?

Or could Great Leader simply be falling apart? He's certainly acting strange. Playing games with human lives.

Or could it be the long awaited Mark of the Booger? The sign of Conservative End Times. After reading this story I think it's probably that. In that case only an exorcist will save them.

But if it's just a bad photoshop number will somebody please fire Sandra Buckler.

And if it's really just a big and disgusting booger will one of his cowed minions please summon up some courage

And tell Great Leader to go blow himself.


Thursday, August 17, 2006

Is This a Prime Minister or What? (Part Two)

I wondered what excuse our fake President might come up with today to justify his disgusting and shameful decision to boycott the AIDS Conference.

So I looked it up. And was horrified to find his busy schedule consisted of counting carats like a bunny....... at a diamond mine in Nunavut. Wow! Isn't that something? All those carats the mine is going to produce. Almost as many as the people who die of AIDS every year because governments don't care enough.

Isn't that a perfect symbol of the twisted neocon mindspace that always finds time to put money ahead of human lives? Just like they're putting ideology ahead of humanity by fucking with Vancouver's safe injection site. The next time I hear a ReformCon talk about morality, I don't know what I'll do. Throw something at the tv. Laugh in their faces. Or vomit.

The ReformCons can squawk and screech and enlist an old homophobe to try to defend the indefensible. Some progressive bloggers don't seem to care.

But I do. Like most Canadians I feel that Harper should have been there, just like Jean Chretien should have been at the last one. These 24-thousand delegates from 140 countries are leading the desperate struggle against the AIDS pandemic that is destroying people and nations all over the world. The least Harper could have done was welcome them and say thank you. It would have been the decent and honorable and Canadian thing to do. But what do those cheap politicos know about that?

The good news , as I've said before , is that this ridiculous Bubba Blubber Tour is helping to drive down his polls. The mask is slipping. He's revealing what kind of a cold and fanatic person he really is. In addition to Being Chimp Bush's chi hua hua. That's going down like a bomb in Quebec and Ontario. Soon all hopes of a majority will be gone. Hallelujah! He's blowing it, all by his little crazy nerdy self. These poor ReformCons are so ridiculous. They think Great Leader is so smart. Soon they'll be calling him an idiot who threw it all away. Or Not So Great Former Leader Loser. Ha. Ha.Ha.

In the meantime I'm going to enjoy watching him stumble and stew. If you need a recipe I've got one! And a real bubba recipe no less. Yum.Yum.Yum.

Today our little bunnycon might be counting his carats. But you know what they say about diamonds. They really aren't forever.

Soon he'll be counting his losses. Oh yes, don't forget to save some of the red wine.

So we can all raise a glass to that.

Bottoms Up.....

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Is This a Prime Minister or What?

I see our cowardly Prime Minister is continuing his absurd waddle through the North to try to put as much distance between himself and the AIDS Conference as possible. Just because he's afraid to be booed.

Well boo hoo bubba. It's a little too late to worry about that

But I see Bubba Blubber isn't the only ReformCon running for cover. This trembling jelly is too.

What is it about these Cons anyway? They like to pose as chickenhawks,flapping their feathers and foaming at the mouth. But at the slightest sign of trouble they just cut and run.

Can you imagine what would happen if this yankee loving fake President ever gave the order to drop depth charges on a submerged sub in our Arctic? And then found out it was an American one? By the time we found out what had happened, he would be halfway to the Antarctic along with the rest of his cabinet.

Now look I understand that most ReformCons are either hayseed bigots or nerds who never got laid. And that they like to talk big to make up for their little inadequacies, of which there are many. But this is ridiculous. They're the laughing stock of the entire civilized world.

Will somebody please tell President Steve that it's safe to come home?
Before he slips on all that melting ice, courtesy of his Kyoto hating pals, and is eaten by a starving polar bear. What's a few boos from the faggot-lovers and a few flying falafels from a cultural community, compared to that?

BTW. Does anyone know when the seal bashing season starts? Oh wait. Now I remember. Damm.

Not soon enough....

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Stephen Harper's Dirty Little Secret

I came upon this moving memorial right across the street from where the International Aids Conference is taking place.

Each little piece of cloth flapping in the wind carries a small message or drawing. As beautiful and as fragile as the lives that are being lost to AIDS each day because of poverty, ignorance, bigotry, and indifference.

It's a great Conference. I'm proud Canada is hosting it. Which makes Stephen Harper's decision to boycott it even more disgraceful and  disgusting.

But then he has a dirty little secret he'd rather Canadians not know about: he is an ideological fanatic who thinks AIDS is a matter of morality. And wants to send a message to his religious wingnut base. Give me a majority and I'll give you EVERYTHING.

Just across the street from the AIDS conference I came across an exhibit of AIDS quilts from all around the world. I've never seen an AIDS quilt before, so I was moved by those gentle memorials to life and loss.

There were so many impressive ones like a giant one from Down Under with little people and animals on it and the slogan "Australia we all belong."

Or this one.

But these two humbler ones from Canada were good too....

Je me Souviens. I remember.

How young they were when they died.

For people like Harper, and other religious fanatics, people like Yves, Patrick and Bertrand aren't really human.

They thinks that gay people can choose who they are. That's it's just about sex. When of course, it's all about love.

I have to believe with all my heart that the war against AIDS will one day be won.

Just like I have to believe that we will win our battle against Harper and his theocon thugs who are trying to destroy our beautiful Canadian values. And shaming us in the eyes of the world.

For Yves, and Patrick and Bertrand and all the millions and millions of human beings who died of AIDS.

And all those who continue to live with it.

The sooner we win that battle.

The sooner we'll win the war....

Sunday, August 13, 2006

From Hell to Paradise

The day before I flew back to Canada I went for a long walk on the lonely beach where I spent so much time as a boy. I was feeling pretty good about my exciting little adventure. But I had just heard about that bloody week in Afghanistan, so I was feeling sad as well. One thought led to another, and before I knew it I was thinking about my American cousin Jack. The golden boy who died in Vietnam.

I never met him. But I've heard so much about him over the years. His pictures are all over my aunt's house. He was a tall good looking guy with freckles and curly red hair. They say he was a model student, a football star, a high school hearthrob, pursued by legions of girls. He was planning to be an engineer. But his dad was a U.S. Marine who had slogged ashore at Iwo Jima. So when Vietnam came around Jack didn't wait to be drafted, he enlisted. My favourite picture of him is one where he's sitting on the floor of a Huey, his long legs hanging over the side. He's wearing his flak jacket over his bare chest, and grinning like an idiot kid at Disneyland as the chopper lifts off. A few weeks later he jumped out of another chopper and stepped on a mine. He died screaming in agony, drowning in his own blood. He was only nineteen.

Whenever I visit my aunt in Boston, I try to visit him as well. His tomb in the little graveyard is now older than he was when he died. It's a beautiful quiet place to spend eternity. But it still seems like such a waste. I always feel like whispering something like this:

"Jack I don't know how to say this but they fooled you. Saigon is now Ho Chi Minh City, but the dominoes didn't fall.

"Even some of the gungho generals and chickenhawk politicians now agree it was a terrible mistake. They never should have sent you off to fight a war you couldn't win."

"But that doesn't do you much good Jack. Does it golden boy? You're still dead. You died for nothing. And all anyone can say is sorry."

I feel like saying that but I never do. I would rather bite my tongue off. Even if its true.

I hope what happened to Jack never happens to any of our soldiers. But you never know. War is full of surprises. Especially when you fight the kind of wars you can't ever really win. The Israelis vowed to destroy Hezbollah before they found out about the kinds of weapons and training the enemy had. We sent our troops into a combat mission in Afghanistan without the right kind of helicopters. And we won't get them for another four years. Now we're both paying the price. War is like that.

As for me I was just reminded again that there are a lot of heroes out there who don't carry guns. Who risk their lives to help the wounded, or bring food to hungry people, or little sugar packets that can bring dying children back to life. Or help bring democracy to a place recovering from the deadliest war the world forgot. By shlepping ballot boxes and ballots around instead of bullets and bombs.

Here's to the heroes of the United Nations. The neocons like to dump on them. But when the shit really hits the fan, they're the only ones who can do the job.
Besides the way I figure it, if you work for a group like that, and you ever get shot down like this poor little drone was. (I can hardly wait for the full report...) Or mistake a jungle mountain for a cloud. You won't get much glory. But at least you're covered for all time. Nobody will ever have to stand in front of your tomb and say sorry.

But enough of that morbid stuff. I'm back in my beautiful Canada (smooch) (smooch) (Kiss the ground.) Even with a chi hua hua as a Prime Minister, or under temporary ReformCon occupation, it's still a great place to call home. Talk about falling out of hell and ending up in paradise. Hallelujah! What a difference a beach makes!

Oh yeah. I want to thank the boys in the house for taking care of business while I was away. They were terrific. They took care of my dog. They surprised me with a late birthday party. Calum built me a beautiful bookcase. Sebastien fixed my motorbike. And now all I need is somebody to fix my other problem...

I've had my starbucks fix. I'm back to smoking Du Maurier's instead of Gitanes. (ugh) Oh sure I know that's really bad for me. But more than three weeks of chastity I'm sure is even worse. I hear it can cause prostate cancer. Or turn you into a pervert priest or some other kind of clammy life denying religious fanatic.

So I'm not taking any chances.... Anyone wanna come up and see my African etchings? Or my new Celtic tattoo?

You might as well live it up. You never know what might happen in this crazy world. Summer is so short. And so is life.

Just ask my cousin Jack...