Maxed Out 

Tis the season for stumping, litigation

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The deja vuness of it all didn’t really strike me until I drove down to Vancouver on Monday. There’s another election coming.

After our high-pitched, all-politics-are-local municipal election, I’m just a bit burned out on electioneering.

It doesn’t help that this election is both unnecessary and, more troubling, indicative of the much larger, elephant in the parlour problem facing my adopted home and just about every other country labouring under democratic principles. That problem is that we seemed to have built societies way more complex than we’re capable of managing, let alone nurturing, under the pressures being brought to bear by the Generation of Swine we’ve inarguably become.

We’re having an election almost no one in the country wants because the boys we’ve got leading the extant political parties can’t play well together. None of them seem grown up enough to be capable of looking at the bigger picture – Canada – fixing the things that so desperately need fixing and stepping boldly into an uncertain future… together... co-operatively… as though we’re all in this experiment together, which we most definitely are.

Jack the Bear, dapper leader of the NDP, has been paying too much attention to his own handlers, toadies and sycophants. He’s convinced he can lead the party of afterthought to greatness it’s not seen since the voters of Ontario lost their collective minds and handed Bob Rae a majority provincial government. He’s no longer willing to play kingmaker to Little Pauly Martin’s minority government, convinced he can eke out another couple of seats in the minority parliament to come and play, well, kingmaker.

Little Pauly, on the other hand, will never rest comfortably until he fulfills the Divine Destiny handed down from his father and becomes undisputed leader of all Canadians. So holy is his grail, so inspired his cause, that he’s more than willing to throw away a decade of fiscal parsimony to buy his way into office unfettered by minority status. Oh, how soon we forget the still-unpublished lessons of Gomery. Oh, how delusional the trappings of power.

Stephen Hapless, knowing this is, for him, a make or break election, is out spreading peace on earth, goodwill toward white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant men during the Christmas season. Dusting off his best hood, the living embodiment of the ugly face of conservatism is out stumping for… make that against, gay marriage, a woman’s right to choose, decriminalization of marijuana and modernism in any of its enlightened forms.

Gillie is, of course, doing what he’s always done, moving Quebec inexorably closer to becoming the banana republic its intellectuals(sic) dream of becoming.

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