Here’s Grow Mercy’s take on Bill Maher’s Religulous. Published yesterday in the Edmonton Journal.
Proroguing all the way, Oh what fun…
Between the artery-splitting incomprehensible invective of Stephane Dion, and the increasingly toxic blasts of Stephen Harper–whose glaring vitriol has him seeing flags where there aren’t any, and not seeing them where they are–it’s Jack Layton who comes across as statesman. Perhaps it’s the prospect of having an actual cabinet position within the newly-minted coalition. Such new territory for him that he hasn’t yet picked up the coinage.
But I’m afraid, even without considering the latest comments of Gilles Duceppe, the coalition is an unsettling idea. Even though it’s not, as Harped on, undemocratic.
At this point, the merciful option may be to prorogue parliament. (Prorogue-hard to enounce without a marble under one’s tongue–but how readily it has slid into our lexicon.)
Yes, proroguing is an obvious gettin’ outta town after sundown–a cut and run, after a colossal Conservative blunder. But Grow Mercy likes to re-story proroguing as sending the lot of them to their room until they find a new narrative for citizens. Remember when government was understood to exist exclusively for it’s citizens?
Now every head bowed, every eye closed, as we pray they emerge to play fair. Amen.
Technorati Tags: Jack Layton Statesman,Stephen Harper cowboy,Stephane Dion hanging himself,Prorogue,Canadian politics
Stephen Harper must resign
Having tired of Canada’s primary political colours, we at Grow Mercy (that’s me), these past few elections, have voted Green. Yes, internal justification has not always been easy, and we recognize our voting behaviour has been at least as much protest as support for an "under construction" Green platform. But this week, as no other week, have we felt more vindicated.
Stephen Harper has managed to conjure up Cerberus. And, as they say, he has only himself to blame. Harper, politically vain, and surprisingly vindictive, gave life to this creature–this we’re-mad-as-hell-and-we’re-not-going-to-take-it-any-longer coalition.
But know that it’s only their contempt of Stephen Harper that fits their heads on this body, nothing else. Remove Harper and they’ll gnaw themselves into oblivion.
So the merciful thing, the sensible thing, is for Stephen Harper to resign. (Interim leader Jim Prentice?) It may not prevent Cerberus from a stint at the helm, but it will set the stage for a House cleaning, or at least a good dusting. Because something has to give when we’re at a place where, as Rex Murphy said last night, "It’s all politics and no government."
It used to be said of Cerberus, that he was so dreadful to behold that anyone who looked upon him turned to stone. No longer, now he mainly looks silly guarding the fallen gates of Parliament. But no sillier and sadder than our out-going Prime Minister.
Have your say.
Technorati Tags: Stephen Harper must resign,Stephen Harper,Stephan Dion,Liberal-NDP-Bloc Coalition,Cerberus,Rex Murphy
A Small Explosion
Ten years ago…walking in winter with Deb, through the secret beauty of a poplar stand. Dead fall. Gray leafless trees give way to a redemption of blue, coming through, striking our foreheads.
White bark of birch holds the light with cupped hands. The sun, half-eyed and sleepy, never rises far above the tops of trees.
Trail snow allows us slight purchase, and as we scuttle up hill our short steps slip in descent.
Glory Lake opens up and on the far side, on a rock, I see the outline of a man kneeling, perhaps making a fire. He remains motionless. His edges blur in spotty sunshine.
Feigning anger from two cruel bites in the summer, Deb knocks down an empty wasp’s nest, and looks for others. She encourages me to shake a newly discovered nest out of a tree. I decline, summer seems too far away and wasps remain a mystery.
We see the hawks nest and remember the fledglings of the past spring. We calculate our observation point and determine to come back next spring, binoculars in hand, to again catch a glimpse of downy heads.
A grouse startles us as we begin our homeward walk. We say nothing, we are silent and grateful. We find freedom in each other, we are each others atmosphere.
We discuss the difference between moose and deer droppings and the interconnectedness of all things startles me. I wonder if it’s silly to be startled so, especially regarding droppings.
But I’m still galvanized by the grouse and that burst of wind and drumming air and the small explosion of dry leaves and brittle twigs. And just like that, a small explosion has gone off in my head. A kind of joy.