Here we go. No fancy framing theme today, because I used all my mojo up yesterday creating a platform for my run to be elected Governor-General. I had no idea standards were so low: I may actually have a real shot at this. Haven’t killed anyone with a car yet, nor beaten a spouse, but hey, day’s not over, amirite?
One notes with interest that they’ve already killed her GGJPayette Twitter account, and now it’s just Canadian_GG. Oh, snap!
I need to go back and amend that post about becoming Governor-General, to put Mike Holmes in charge of all the permaculture-related renovations at Rideau Hall, and give Scott McGillivray some sort of “facilities manager” title just to keep him around so I can look at him. God knows, I’m a sucker for a good head of hair.
Oh yes, and we will write it into the rules that in order to graduate from a Canadian university, you must spend at least six months working in either retail or food and beverage service, ie waiting tables, cashier, sales floor, or cooking and/or serving fast food. No exceptions, no fancy bougie compound sinecure your connected uncle gets for you (“Second Under Barback at Bohemian Grove” spare me; if your shoes don’t smell like beer at the end of a shift, you ain’t a barback), no management jobs. Yes, welcome to the life of a front line worker. Your proletarian brothers and sisters embrace you! Enjoy your Teachable Moment.
Meanwhile, you can’t tell me Twitter isn’t comedy gold.
But where was I? Oh yes, explaining that there would be absolutely no elaborate introduction, nor framing device for today’s Covid Briefing Bingo. None. Zip. Because it’s 2021 and we’re over it, really, aren’t we?
Not that I’m less uppity than Payette; quite the opposite. I will, without question, be the first GG in history to drop an F bomb in a throne speech. I’ll need a whole staff dedicated to preventing me from calling for firing squads on Twitter several times a day. And a fat lot of good it’s been doing anyway. You people never listen. Not to mention I’m a stone cold lefty and will just Nationalize All The Things if they leave me alone with Justin Trudeau’s laptop for fifteen minutes.
I mean, have you SEEN my About page (pictured above, no, really)?
Now, I know that these things are appointed, rather than voted on, but what have I got to lose? I’m currently unemployed, journalism having retracted like a hand that reached out in the darkness and accidentally touched Donald Trump, and the dog-sitting business having undergone something of a critical constriction due to that “Nobody except Conservative party lifers can go on pleasure jaunts” thing. For reasons unknown, this Communal Anarchist does not have a wide acquaintance among the Tories other than blood relatives who currently are not speaking to me for fear I’ll mention Q and say “I told you so!”
Which I totally will do, every single chance I get.
I also know that the GG does not have a “platform” per se, but have gone ahead and created one, in the interest of saving everyone time, and also to show off that I’m not afraid to do a little hard work now and again. Though I wouldn’t want it to become a habit.
I have also done outreach for some key positions. Vermin Supreme will be my Grand Vizier (he has agreed, or at least he’s retweeting it every time I mention him, which I’m taking as consent). We shall change his name to Vermine Supreme, just to annoy the Americans. This will strengthen our relationship with the UK, as there is nothing Boris likes so much as pointless pretension (did he tell you he went to Eton? Don’t worry, he will).
Zap Rowsdower will take over as Captain of the Guard, Polo Stick In Waiting, or whatever they’re calling it these days. Heck, we could make him Chief Beer Tester. He just strikes me as the kinda guy you want to have on your side in case it all goes Mad Max.
This guy can be my deputy:
There will be a pony for each Canadian who wants one. Vizier Vermine Supreme will oversee this program, of course.
The Pony Support Allowance will ensure the economic security of equine-Canadians.
We will reinstate the Special Relationship with Narnia and exchange ambassadors, and GOD I hope they send us a flying horse this time! We can send them…oh, kd lang? I bet she’d like Narnia.
There will be no single National Drink, because gin is better in the summer and whiskey in the winter, and my Canada includes all cocktails. Further to that point:
We will have mandated #BeverageDiversity in all federal facilities.
Rideau Hall and the Parliament Buildings will go off the grid, with wind turbines and solar panels.
The grounds at Rideau Hall will be converted to permaculture, with the re-introduction of goats, chickens, a couple of nice hunters, and maybe a Jersey cow. There will be sheep (not talking about the obsequious here, for once: actual sheep)
The Governor-General’s Levee will be reinstated, and will be combined with Sheep Dipping Day. The kids’ll love it!
The washrooms in Parliament will be converted to composting toilets. Because Parliament is the largest source of horseshit in the country, we will then be able to supply all Canadians with sufficient compost to grow their own food, significantly reducing the cost of living.
I will, naturally, and without a millisecond’s hesitation, move into Rideau Hall. Like, just try and stop me. Of course I’ll miss the way The Roommate’s audible methane explosions punctuate my Zoom calls, to say nothing of the aromas, but time heals all wounds, so they say. Perhaps it will one day heal the memory, but I digress.
I will absolutely dust off the stables at Rideau Hall and also at Parliament, and will be making my commute each day via horseback. A Mountie horse would be nice; they do get rid of the ones that don’t meet the colour or height standards, and those would do me just fine, me being hobbit-like of stature although quite impressive once I’m aboard something bigger than myself. If I get my own Horse Guard, surely I’m entitled to my own horse, no?
My carbon footprint will be NEGATIVE, and even Greta will be impressed, to say nothing of the sudden influx of job openings for street sweepers to handle shoveling the manure. Former parliamentarians are particularly encouraged to apply, as they have directly relevant experience. Think of it as a rehabilitation program, before they’re re-integrated into respectable society.
Should science eventually evolve to the point towards which I have been pushing it lo these many decades, I will humbly set aside the horses in favour of the chariot pulled by woolly mammoths for which I have been advocating all these years. Come on, Sciencey-People! What’s taking you so long?
Okay, now, who wants to help me get my French up to par for the job? That was Payette’s mistake, you know: swearing at people in languages they could understand. Me, I learned long ago from a very nice woman I suspected of being a CIA agent: in Europe, talk to one another in Thai; in Asia, use German.
Not that I speak either Thai or German, but I do have a nice line in Bahasa Indonesia swear words that should see me through any eventuality other than, say, swearing at the Indonesian ambassador, which I almost certainly wouldn’t do, because everyone from that country that I’ve met has been almost as nutty as me, and we gotta stick together. Not to mention I wanna stay on his good side because who doesn’t want to be invited to Rijsttafel?
So, okay, I’m refreshing Monster.com and just not seeing the posting. Guess they’re still working on the job description, eh? Bloody typical Ottawa! Can’t get a goddamn thing done on a weekday after 4pm, the assholes.
Well, kittens, we’re going to have to come up with something else to call you, as it appears that skeevy Armie Hammer uses the term to describe the women in his bizarre sexual fantasies. Not that we’re against bizarre sexual fantasies. No, perish the thought! But his involve cannibalism. And, after having met Willy Pickton, there just isn’t enough brain bleach on the planet to scrub that image out of my head. We don’t want you messed up in that!
I got into an argument recently on the internet (imagine that! Me!) about whether or not Pickton’s pork ended up in grocery stores, and in doing the research I discovered…well, long story short: it’s worse. It is, in fact, very possible and even very likely that human remains ended up in a wide variety of consumer products, because he apparently took his victims’ bodies to the same rendering plant that he took his pork, and the uh, “outcome” of that plant ended up in mass-market products from lipstick to …. well, who cares what else, really? I’ll never look at my $35 Nars the same way again.
A friend of mine was paid a great deal of money back in the day by the pork marketing board, because after the details of the Pickton case came out the price of pork fell through the floor, for obvious reasons, and he managed to get it up again. No such issue at the Lipstick Marketing Board. But, ew. Let us bond with the concept of motivated forgetting, and put it behind us.
Indeed, let us forget that with extreme prejudice. We interrupt this dark interlude to remind you that, thanks to TikTok, sea shanties are trending on all platforms.
So, readers, let us try to put that behind us and move forward in the very Canadian spirit of “we shall never speak of this again.” Which brings us to the Philosophy of Forgetting, which I didn’t even know was A Thing, or if I did, I forgot it after my TBI.
Related: the very internet-native concept of the Eternal September, which is the state of always having so many new users unfamiliar with the basics and protocols that it always feels like the first day of school. Right now, we have an Eternal September for democracy itself, hell, for critical thinking in the first place.
Here’s how my yesterday went. My today is going so well I forgot I ran this Twitter poll.
But you’re no doubt going:
Well, the Covid Briefing Bingo, also, is going well. Trudeau hasn’t shown up yet even though it’s at his own house, and my blog’s inexplicably adding page breaks to the post in between every paragraph. So, mark your “Technical difficulties” square.
Or whatever they called it in Godel Escher Bach,(PDF) which I’m too rushed to look up or remember right now. There’s the whole text: YOU look it up.
You know it, The Thing. The Grand Unified Theory of Philosophy, the Thing which unites the principles of Aesthetics, Ethics, and Logic, the Thing which is also called anything from The Godhead to The Buddha to The Force to “buh muh rights!” because human beings can never agree on a goddamn thing, can we?
Anyhoodle, here we go with our video from CPAC. 12,000 views, kittens. It seems Canadians are taking this all a bit more seriously than in Ye Olden Dayes of like, a month ago, when they’d get 1,000 views on a good day. Perhaps the audience is attracted to that ineffable, ultimate characteristic of Quality which we were just discussing above? Or maybe they’re just big fans of the best hair in politics. Who knows?
We’ve used the phrase “pull up a mink” several times recently. Why? Because the COVID-19 zombie mink culls brought it to our mind(s) and put it into our sentences. And also because we have a history of pulling up a mink, which, let us explain:
Longtime friend of the blog Calimaria had a townhouse near Casa Raincoaster. While she was able to enjoy a lovely garden apartment, she was not always able to keep the heat on in said apartment, an all-too-common occurence in Vancouver, with its overpriced housing market. I myself couldn’t keep the electricity on for four years.
Calimaria enjoyed a good cocktail as much as the next blogger (ie this one) and we used to get together on Fridays. I would bring over a pitcher of Manhattans (2:1 with lots of bitters) and as I entered she would say, “Pull up a mink!” and we would sit and chat for hours.
She had inherited a brown mink coat from her mother, and I had sold her (during a brief period of prosperity) my own mother’s blonde herringbone mink. So we would use the coats as lap rugs and enjoy a lovely visit. Yes, we talked about you.