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A testy, apathetic country gets ready to…

By G.D. Maxwell Somehow, it all seems so far away. While the suits preened and danced and huffed and puffed in Ottawa, two bald eagles barnstormed and flew aerobatics over the dimpled waters of Sulphuric Lake.

By G.D. Maxwell

Somehow, it all seems so far away.

While the suits preened and danced and huffed and puffed in Ottawa, two bald eagles barnstormed and flew aerobatics over the dimpled waters of Sulphuric Lake. They weren’t fishing; they were frolicking. The notion of bald eagles frolicking in mid-air, looking more like kittens fighting for dominance over a scrap of yarn than raptorous symbols of majesty, was both disconcerting and highly entertaining.

The same could not be said for the Most of the Leaders Debate. No majesty, very little entertainment unless you count watching a man’s lifelong dream slip away from his reach, leaving only a trail of visible frustration perspiration beads sprouting on his forehead.

Watch the eagles? Watch the debate? Oh look, Gilles Duceppe ’s drawing blood. Who cares? What are those eagles up to now?

And what exactly is Gilles Duceppe doing in a national leader’s debate anyway? He’s clearly not a national leader. His party isn’t a national party. It doesn’t have a chance of forming a government outside the parochial confines of Quebec. His sole role in the debate is to play the spoiler, the class clown, the smart-alecky kid, a role any of us can play with ease. If the power brokers at the television networks and political parties can find a rationale to exclude the Green Party – in an election where it will be running candidates in every riding across the country – what twisted rationale can there be for including the Blocheads? Oh yeah… Quebec. Gotta appease Quebec so they won’t take their ball and go home. How do you spell charade?

The eagles, having tired of playing grabass with each other, split up. The larger of the two flies too close to someone’s nest for comfort. It’s hard to tell exactly whose nest because the air is suddenly filled with the eagle being harassed and pursued by two Bonaparte gulls, half a dozen swallows and a crow or two. Citizens Watch in the wild kingdom. Like a pack of wolves trying to bring down much larger prey, the makeshift flock swoop in turn, one at a time, to stampede the eagle out over open water. Several at a time dive into his flightline and the eagle veers sharply off course, tucking his wings and freefalling to lose altitude, levelling out only to have the gnats start after him again. I think he does it more out of boredom than any real desire to raid a nest.

The analogy between watching the small birds worry the eagle away and watching Diamond Jack and Cheesehead natter after Little Pauly or Stevie Hapless is too simple to draw… and not nearly as interesting to see. It’s hard to watch Diamond Jack without thinking of bobblehead dolls. He’ll be fun during Question Period, bobbing up and down to make this point or that, mugging for the cameras, feeling proud as a peacock. I think it was Tim Cahill who referred to this phenomenon as being pecked to death by ducks.

If it weren’t for the pending election, life at Smilin’ Dog Manor would be settling into the rhythm of summer. The expanse of grass – or what passes for grass, a random, yes even sustainable mix of dandelions, hawkweed, quack grass and maybe even a few strands of fescue and rye – has been whipped into submission from the foot-and-a-half savannah that greeted me into something resembling a lawn. If there is a Zen to mowing grass, and I’m pretty sure there is, I’ve been in a suspended state of Zen since we arrived earlier this month.

Strawberry Fields is secure against gophers – who may be smarter than I gave them credit for, having made themselves scarce so far this summer; either that or my variant of catch-and-release last summer was more effective than I imagined – and the deer seem to have been stymied by the barricade of chickenwire and netting. California-free, GMO-free, pesticide-free strawberries just may become a reality in my lifetime.

The rest of the garden, asparagus, peas, beans, potatoes, salad, onions, carrots, garlic and, of course, raspberries are humming along like WAVE busses – a bit behind schedule but reliably just around the corner. Chalk it up to a late start and a still chilly, only one week left spring. There was frost earlier this week.

If it weren’t for the election, it would have my full attention and I’d finally be tackling that kayak that’s been waiting to be built. But I can’t lose the impending cloud of dread over what’s about to happen the end of this month.

The country’s testy. Testy and apathetic. Just the combination the Hapless Conservatives need to turn the trick.

Normally, I wouldn’t be too concerned. Normally, I’d be in the vanguard of calling for the Liberals to be tossed out on their keesters. I mean, let’s face it, the Liberals have really only done two things right in the last eleven years. They wrestled Brian Mulroney’s Amazing Debt Machine to the ground – albeit at the cost of gutting many social programs and downloading costs to the provinces – and they didn’t get us embroiled in Bush Lite’s Great Adventure in Iraq.

Against those two, well, one-and-a-half accomplishments, they ran a typical horror show of patronage, greed, arrogance, corruption, scandal, nepotism, coverup and waste. In other words, politics as usual. They didn’t invent any of those things though they did raise the bar on some of them.

So why shouldn’t they be tossed out?

Stephen Harper. That’s why.

If you seriously don’t believe one man can make a difference in the course and tenor of a country, ask yourself this: How different would post 9/11 have played out if George Bush, his brother and the Supreme Court hadn’t combined to steal the 2000 U.S. presidential election?

Al Gore was a boob, true. But he wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of scary guys who believe the U.S. Constitution is more an impediment to getting things done – read reshaping the world – than a blueprint for freedom and democracy.

Mr. Harper plays to the most base instincts in all of us: greed and fear. Cut taxes, boost military spending, curtail individual freedoms, dust off the Notwithstanding Clause, toss criminals in jail and throw away the key. And don’t believe for a minute the corruption and scandal served up by the Chrétien Liberals won’t pop up like weeds under a Conservative regime.

One man and one man’s vision can most definitely change the course of the ship of state. If you’re attracted to the course being steered south of the border, climb aboard. The good ship Alliance-Reform is set to follow closely in its wake.