I was sitting outside, enjoying the first blush of spring/summer, considering the fact that Premier Kathleen Wynne was being brave enough to venture deep into the riding of Ottawa South, the former fiefdumb of Dalton McGuinty.
I remember last election, I heard this great story about a guy who came to the door to find Premier Dad and his brother David on this doorstoop.
"You can stay," he said to David.
"You," he said pointing to Dalton. "You, get off my lawn."
For years I've lived in Ottawa South and I've always voted for the Liberal Party because old habits die hard. I cut my political teeth working on the Hill for National Liberal Caucus, just a wee girl in search of quality employment, not realizing the experience made me something of a Philip Roth character. I still wear the Human Stain of liberalism even though I haven't been an active Liberal for two decades. It's hurt me workwise, no question, particularly over these many years that we have lived in the Kingdom of the Black Knight, Stephen Harper, when even a whiff of political activity not associated with conservatism gets your resume thrown on a heap for burning.
My Human Stain has made me a bitter old crone, unemployed as I have been for nearly the entire time that Dalton McGuinty's star has shone bright in this land. The rest of my family is also underemployed in jobs that do not suit their skill sets. Scott is selling cars while Nick is working the part-time dead zone that is Target.
I was thinking about this because I thought Kathleen Wynne might saunter by, asking for my vote, wondering if I'd like to take a sign. I'm tempted to call this a Liberal Free Zone, though I'm not liking the other parties, either. Liars, all of them, my granddad would have said. He was a farmer. He knew when it would rain and he could spot a liar at 50 paces.
Me, I'm thinking of erecting a sign.
Beware of taxpayer.
And if I do see Kathleen Wynne, I'll tell her to get off my damn lawn.
She's attracting dandelions.
I remember last election, I heard this great story about a guy who came to the door to find Premier Dad and his brother David on this doorstoop.
"You can stay," he said to David.
"You," he said pointing to Dalton. "You, get off my lawn."
For years I've lived in Ottawa South and I've always voted for the Liberal Party because old habits die hard. I cut my political teeth working on the Hill for National Liberal Caucus, just a wee girl in search of quality employment, not realizing the experience made me something of a Philip Roth character. I still wear the Human Stain of liberalism even though I haven't been an active Liberal for two decades. It's hurt me workwise, no question, particularly over these many years that we have lived in the Kingdom of the Black Knight, Stephen Harper, when even a whiff of political activity not associated with conservatism gets your resume thrown on a heap for burning.
My Human Stain has made me a bitter old crone, unemployed as I have been for nearly the entire time that Dalton McGuinty's star has shone bright in this land. The rest of my family is also underemployed in jobs that do not suit their skill sets. Scott is selling cars while Nick is working the part-time dead zone that is Target.
I was thinking about this because I thought Kathleen Wynne might saunter by, asking for my vote, wondering if I'd like to take a sign. I'm tempted to call this a Liberal Free Zone, though I'm not liking the other parties, either. Liars, all of them, my granddad would have said. He was a farmer. He knew when it would rain and he could spot a liar at 50 paces.
Me, I'm thinking of erecting a sign.
Beware of taxpayer.
And if I do see Kathleen Wynne, I'll tell her to get off my damn lawn.
She's attracting dandelions.
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