Months have gone by since Steven Harper was sworn in and yet, in typical Canadian fashion no coup d’état has been plotted and no demonstrators have swarmed upon Ottawa. Heck, am I to wager most Canadians have already forgotten the minutiae of being an election year already? Impressive. Could it be part of Mr. Harper’s insidious masterminding to keep his agenda so well hidden in some dark fissure within his conscious where even light cannot escape? Or is it another one of Tim Horton’s “Roll-the-Rim-to-Win” campaigns in full swing again and thus distracting the populous from the happenings within Parliament Hill? How could a country proud in our gay and abortion enlightened laws; laissez-faire attitude towards marijuana and hippy oriented diversity elect a leader who on multiple occasions has opposed our status quo? Let me start by saying I have my suspicions, but have no factual idea, so I will not start any second-guessing. Okay, now that’s in the open, let’s continue…
I still remember election day as if it was yesterday, bushy tailed ready to fulfill my civil duty and aid the due process to elect a new fearless leader. Did I really think the Liberals would win? No, not by a long shot, but I sure as hell was not going to allow some fanatic –including rightwing extremists— from getting a majority government.
Imagine my surprise when I found there was a voting station in the lobby in my very own building. Oh, the political squirm I would have released if I remotely followed or cared about politics on a day-to-day capacity. However, it was great having the knowledge of not traveling far to give my two cents; and if you are part of the immediate-gratification generation like I am, you know that’s about as good as it gets. Imagine my surprise when I found the lobby almost deserted. It was as if most people really didn’t care. Then I remembered how many times is had been repeated by both newsrooms and friends alike, ‘this will be the closest election in years!’ But I was there by my lonesome self, in the eve of election day, all alone. Except for two sad looking voting officials but I wasn’t counting them. I was shocked! That would be the third time for any of those counting.
Where were my fellow voters? I certainly recall being the election day geek, calling friends with a friendly reminder. ‘But of course, I am going to vote,’ they told me. “It is one of the closest elections in years,” said another when pushed. It seemed like the call to action had been raised way before I had decided to part-time as the pestering friend we all loathe to have.
Back at the voting station, a few people had showed up…finally. It was only 8 pm, ‘why not wait a little longer? You know, build some suspense.’ I thought. They were all from my building, which stands to reason, if you cannot be coerced to vote when the polling station is only meters beneath you then nothing will. Except for maybe free food, personally I would recommend booze –preferably wine if I had a say on it— perhaps we could vote on it? Unfortunately last time I checked such behaviour is considered highly uncouth, oh, and completely illegal. But heck, I say why not make a party of it? After all if most people don’t make it a priority to vote, would it matter if they did it while utterly smashed? George W. Bush used to do it during his younger years and look how far he got. Sure not the best plan but no one would deny the possible advantages. Which surely would multiply exponentially if people where allowed to hang around before actually voting. It would be the first time in history where people would look forward to waiting in line. Mmm, we might be onto something…Elections Canada, take note.
Albeit for the time being, we are stuck with Mr. Harper for the next few years…yet everything is still okay. No previous laws have been modified; the great lakes have not turned to blood and no sex before marriage bills have been proposed. No new taxes have been implemented –except for Mr. McGuinty’s tax\premium buffoonery— and no waves of endless locusts or in our case mosquitoes have eaten our collective skin or our crops. The future does seem friendly, which of course I take as the calm before the storm. Call it a prophetic itch but I just know one day Mr. Harper’s eyebrow will suddenly twitch and he will decide its time to “crack this bitch up.” I fear for that day. I just know it will come. When are we going to find out you drink your own blood Mr. Harper? Canadians deserve to know.
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