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Blind man on the Danforth

with giant white cat

does he need help?

No, he’s doing fine

knows where he’s going

unlike me, for example.

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I’m going to come right out and say it, NDP–I’m worried about you.

It’s been at least four hours since I received an email or phone call from you asking for support.

Have your forgotten that we have an election battle coming up? This is a critical time, and every dollar helps!

I know you’re at a disadvantage to the Liberals and Doug Ford’s Progressive Conservatives. I’m not saying I can offer any more than I already do, but shouldn’t you continue to ask me, three to four times a day?

I assume Andrea Howarth is traveling all over the province with the good news of the NDP Dental Care Plan, giving hope to middle class Ontarians who haven’t had a lot to smile about after 15 years of Liberal mismanagement. But how can I know for sure, when I’ve been sitting at home all afternoon with not one update on her pre-campaign campaign?

C’mon NDP–I don’t have to hear from you every hour, but I just wanna know you’re there… for me.

Since Doug Ford decided to run for the leadership of the PC Party on January 29th, I’ve received at least one email from him or his supporters every day, even though the only reason I’m on his mailing list is that years ago I signed a petition to support the Toronto Public Library that was sent to his brother, then-Mayor Rob Ford. But Rob never cared that I wasn’t a supporter, so why should Doug? On Day 12 there’s an inkling that I might not be on his side, in the form of an email entitled “You are not a member”… but the emails have kept coming anyway, even though I never have nor never will be a PC Party member.

Doug’s emails might be written by Scribbler and Devoted Follower Joe Warmington, since they mirror his style of short, simple sentences, each of which is its own paragraph. In honour of whoever is behind Doug’s outreach, I’ve compiled the titles of all of the emails in order, which gives a sense of what any of the individual emails looks like. I call it the poetry of desperation.

It all ends with the most recent email (although I’m sure, not the last), one that I wholeheartedly agree with: “It’s time to stop.”

Doug Ford, please heed your own advice: it’s time to stop. Stop sending me emails, stop trying to be leader of the PC Party, and above all stop trying to outdo your father and your brother who, for all of their faults, were better people than you could ever hope to be, you unblinking, soulless narcissist.

 

DOUG FORD ENTERS RACE FOR LEADER OF THE ONTARIO PROGRESSIVE CONSERVATIVE PARTY

Join us for a Rally for a Stronger Ontario!

I need your help

I need your help

The hard truth

This is nuts

The plan

It’s about winning

Six days

Education

Let’s get it right

You are not a member

Support Doug at the debate!

Welfare for politicians

Broken government

RE: I agree with Doug

Tax tax tax!

Deadline today

Grassroots vs. the media

Tough times

We haven’t won yet

A small deficit?

Tiny little deficit!

Listening to the grassroots

Fighting for our members

It’s time to stop

Where are we as a nation that used to be proud of its beer heritage when by far the biggest displays in the Beer Store (don’t even get me started on the loss of that quirky and humble name, Brewer’s Retail) are Budweiser and Coors Light? Admittedly, Canadian and Blue aren’t good beers, but at least they’re ours. But not only have they been pushed to the margins of the store shelves, they lag in sales and aren’t even entirely Canadian-owned anymore. It makes me sad to walk into the Beer Store; Canadians used to boast that our beer was stronger (“why is American beer like having sex in a canoe? Because it’s fucking close to water”)–if not better–than American brews, but now our southern neighbours have colonized our alcohol consumption like they long ago did our movie theatres and fast food chains. Why, they’ve even got rid of the wall of beer, which we would stare at and often find some unusual brand that we’d think of trying before going for the safe but almost-adventurous 50 or Carling, in favour of a touch-screen menu.

Wake up, Ontario! You’ve lost your beer heritage and are in danger of losing your very identity!

Fuck you Mourinho

and your negative football

(even though it won us

three championships and we’re

forever grateful–KTBFFH)

and fuck you Fellaini,

the dirtiest player I’ve ever seen

and the ugliest, too

(Peter Crouch could pull birds

better than you, and he’d be a virgin

if he wasn’t a football star–

he admits it himself)

But it’s three points to the angels

and nil to the red devils,

all is right in the world

for one more week

at least.

Why can’t I find a pair of Hulk pants that will still fit even if I put on a few pounds?

Has Iron Man ever dropped a deuce while flying at high altitude?

Are there any mutants whose powers actually make them weaker, like their skin turning into tissue paper instead of steel?

Professor X: does the carpet match the drapes?

I understand how the Pym Particle works, but what the hell is a Pym’s Cup?

There’s got to be a thriving business in fake heralds of Galactus, right?

Where does She-Hulk buy her sports bras?

Are Doctors Doom and Octopus members of the American Medical Association? If so, are they aware that the Hippocratic Oath says “First, do no harm”?

Does Wolverine have a Green Card allowing him to work in the US?

Did Jarvis and Wong ever consider forming a union of superhero butlers?

Why didn’t Aunt May ever get a piece of Uncle Ben’s rice money?

What happens if Black Bolt gets allergies and has to sneeze?

Why are alter-egos always more mild-mannered than their heroic counterparts?

If you put your ear up to Sub-Mariner’s tummy, can you hear the ocean?

Peter Hoeg wrote that “If man becomes totally isolated, then he ceases to exist. So it is not fundamentally possible to be alone. Fundamentally, man has to be with other people. If man becomes totally, totally alone, then he is lost.”

I’m still here, Peter.

So far.

There just might be hope on the horizon for a perpetual loser (and selfsame author of this blog). After years of failure and disappointment (what other, more successful people generally term “life”), things might just be looking up.

The erstwhile writer has had a dry patch for a while, but coming up with the Onion-esque title for this post, as derivative and unoriginal as it is, has actually inspired him to think he just might have something to contribute to society after all. (Undoubtedly he’s wrong and you all know it, but please let him keep fooling himself, at least for a day or two… would that be too much to ask?)

And then there’s the development of two (two!) (as-yet) loveless internet relationships, which represent a new high for concurrent, virtual, precarious connections in his life, beating the previous high of one potential match whose seeming rekindling after months of silence turned out to be a case of mistaken identity, namely that it became apparent that the woman in question confused him with another man entirely. They were never to meet again.

After a period of unemployment, the author had two interviews in a single week, bestowing a sense of promise and potential upon him that has been long absent. While it may not seem to be a big deal for people who manage to hold down gainful employment for years at a time, for this fuckup it’s a headline that fairly screams, “I’m back, baby!”

Just today, the local failure had a meal that, for the first time in months, he actually enjoyed and took pleasure in. You wouldn’t know it from his corpulence (the term “spare tire” to describe a tubby midsection might have been invented for his body) but although he eats plenty each day, his profound loserdom means that eating has often been an empty, joyless act. But no more!

And the weather! Might it finally be turning? May a day be approaching when he doesn’t have to wear a jacket, scarf, and toque? Is his happiness at this tiny joy not the very definition of pathetic fallacy? (Seriously, is it or isn’t it? He may be an author, but he doesn’t know his literary terms very well.)

Huzzah!

"Oh look over there! Canadian values!"

“Oh look over there! Canadian values!”

Oh, Kellie Leitch, you strange, unique, visionary xenophobe. I’ve been watching your video today. You know the one; everyone’s talking about it, and they’re not saying anything nice. In my favourite riff on this thing that you’ve unleashed on the world and that you no doubt believe is true and moving, someone has slowed it down by 40%, making you appear to talk like someone’s drunk aunt. And maybe that’s exactly what you are–no judgements here, because that would be mean and a barbaric cultural practice.

Kellie, you’ve been around for quite a while now, beating your drum about how Canada needs to have face-to-face interviews with every immigrant, refugee–and now you’re apparently adding visitors to that list?!–to screen for Canadian values. Do you have any other policies that the mainstream media isn’t reporting on because it’s fixated on this one batshit crazy one? I understand that you’re trying to carve out a space for yourself amongst too many candidates for the Conservative Party leadership, but won’t you need other ideas when you become Prime Minister? (By the way, it’s totally adorable that you think you’ll ever be Prime Minister, and please keep on saying you will be at every opportunity… I hope it’s the first thing you say when you wake up in the morning and the last thing you say before you drift off to sleep, perchance to dream about being Prime Minister, which as I said, is never going to happen.)

But Kellie, I notice you never really say–beyond meaningless buzz words and platitudes–what the Canadian values you hold so dear are. And so I’m here to help. Please feel free to use any or all of the following as examples of Canadian values.

  • Rolling up the rim
  • Knowing which parts of Alberta where it’s safe to cheer for the Oilers
  • How to correctly pronounce “about”
  • This Hour Has 22 Minutes used to be funnier
  • Feeling inferior to Americans while using humour to pretend we’re not
  • Margaret Atwood is a goddamn national treasure
  • Knowing that Windsor, ON is at the same latitude as Northern California
  • Canada has the real Niagara Falls
  • “50 Mission Cap” is the ultimate Tragically Hip song; “Wheat Kings” is also acceptable
  • Our beer is better than American beer
  • Knowing whether to vote for Kellie Leitch

Those are the values all real Canadians possess. Oh, and the last one? Real Canadians know the answer to that, too.

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