Discover more from In the Writing Burrow
It Ain't Over.
The peasants are rolling up their sleeves.
How do the peasants act when revolts against unjust governance are in full swing? Usually they set fire to the castle and burn the tax records. But that was when there were castles and paper or vellum records. What form might an angry peasant revolt take today? Digital denial of service? Organized election campaigns v.s. all who have pushed through an infested Bill — such as Bill 23 — reeking of shameful backroom double-dealing? I guess we’re about to find out.
To take a gentler approach: Douglas, I’d like to show you this archaic picture. It’s me, age 14, in the Coldwater River, near Moonstone. Know where that is? Maybe not. It’s in Simcoe Country. Solid folks there. Used to vote Tory. I mention it just in case you try to brand me as a city slicker or something.
The other reason I’ve brought this up is to point out that I am approximately twenty-five years older and more experienced than you. I have the Wisdom of the Ancients, whereas you have only the Folly of the Recently Middle-Aged. If this were an opera, I would sing Repent, and you would sing Sod Off, and then… but why am I prating about opera? It’s a different language. Let’s get down to brass knuckles.
Now, Douglas, I did tell you that your #Bill23, otherwise known as the Suckerbait Goldbrick Palmgrease Bill, was a bad idea if the public good was what you had in mind. But it turns out that the public good was never what you had in mind. By “people” you meant only a few people, and by “public good” you meant your own good. But now you’ve rammed through the Bill, thus saving what my great aunts would once have called your derrière; and that’s a plus for you, eh?
At least you no longer have to fear a cut-off horse’s head in your bed. Soon you can give the middle finger to the Premiership, and to Ontario taxpayers and your fellow Members of Parliament, and collect your quid pro quo and scamper off to the Bahamas or wherever you’ve pitched your getaway tent, to frolic in the waves and gloat over how you and your cronies made monkeys out of everyone else while also making a shitload of money for yourselves. Using taxpayer’s dollars to do so, because who’s been paying for that public land that you just grabbed? Not you.
Your fellow Members of Parliament, though: that’s another story. The peasants are not happy with them. They sniff corruption, not only from you — well, duh! — but from those who once proudly wore the blue mantle of moderate Conservatism while being duped into believing that you were doing the same. You yourself may have a Get Out of Jail Free card, but they do not. For instance:
Dear Readers, I realize that not all of you are knee deep in the muck of provincial politics, and to you I apologize. After all, you may have come to The Writing Burrow to hear about, well, actual writing, and writing-related topics, and words, and, well, paragraphs, and semi-colons, and Writer’s Blocks, and other such verbal paraphernalia. So I will serve up some writing blather tomorrow, I promise! In fact, I’ll provide a list of gifts you might give to a newbie writer – or even to yourself! – for the holiday season. How exciting is that?
Meanwhile, Douglas, I’ll have some words to say a bit later about your plan to crown John Tory, the Mayor of #Toronto, as an absolute monarch. A hint: Historically, things have not gone well for kings named John.