I think those distant specks are politicians!

City Hall, All Candidates Meeting, Sept 29th, 2008

The council chambers at City Hall are circular. On debate night, half the room was blocked off with a black curtain, leaving a semi-circle of chairs with microphones. When the mayor and city council sat in these chairs, their backs were to the audience. The mayor apologized for this, but in such a way to let us know that this simply could not be helped.

In the middle of this half circle, far away, were four political candidates: Jen Hunter (Green), David McGuinty (Liberal), Paul Dewar (NDP), and Pierre Poilievre (Conservative). Why were there people present who were not running in Ottawa Centre? I have no idea. Penny and Brian were just absent. McGuinty hinted that the party leaders were contacted in regards to the debate. Presumably the leaders chose who got to go. Strange the Liberals and Conservatives didn't choose candidates in the riding itself.

Even though I was sitting in one of the closest rows of seats, I could barely see the candidates. But that was okay -- because they weren't there to interact with me or any of the other voters in the room. They were there to be interrogated by city council on matters important to council -- not necessarily important to us.


Are those candidates, way over there?

The experience gave me a flashback from my university days.

While working as a security guard on a midnight shift, I found a book a fellow guard had left behind. She was a Christian fanatic and often spent long stretches of her shifts praying in the bathroom. The book was a critique of the Jehovah Witness religion, as written by a Protestant. I'm an atheist, but I was bored and had a long night before me. I flipped through the book and much to my surprise it was fascinating.

The author made the following argument -- in order to know Christ, you need to have a personal relationship with him. You can have people assist you with that relationship -- say, a priest helping to interpret your feelings -- but in the end, you are the only one who can fully understand your relationship with Jesus. No priest can define it for you.

In the Jehovah Witness religion, you have to go through a council of elders. They interpret everything for you. They tell you what's right, what's wrong, how you should feel, and what you should think. If you stray from their interpretation, you're kicked out of the church. (Or so this author said, anyway.)

Like I said, I'm an atheist -- but this idea really struck me. Personal, direct, hands on experience weighs more than an interpretation provided by another. It made sense, particularly with such intangibles as morality. And maybe even democracy.

At tonight's candidates meeting, we were not allowed direct access. City council was our group of elders. They were going to ask the questions. If we didn't like it, too bad. With their backs to us, pretending to represent us, they ran the show.


Council protects us from political candidates.

We could watch, politely and quietly. The moderator, Natalie Pierosara, said as much. We were not allowed to "boo or hiss" or anything like that, she informed us. "Polite applause" were the only acceptable response. Council had taken questions from members of the public at the door. They would present our questions for us.

I admit that I showed up at around 6:45, so maybe I was too late to see it -- but I did not see council members seeking out questions from members of the public.

What followed was over an hour of torture. The moderator failed to mention it, but council had just a few questions they would like to ask for themselves. Long, boring, painful questions. The sorts of questions that only a politician would ask. Tedious, dreary, long and drawn out questions, with lengthy preambles and three parts to the actual question itself. Sometimes the question contained multiple issues, all crammed together into one. And they were all municipal in nature.

Candidates were given a minute and a half to respond. It often felt like the questions were longer than the responses. More than once, audience members snickered and groaned at the questions. If council noticed this, they didn't show it.

As the evening dragged on, I ground my teeth and clenched my fists and wrote nasty sentences in my notebook:

"Democracy is messy and passionate and wild. This is not democracy. This is painful."

"This sucks. I am tempted to get up and leave."

"Bland bullshit."

"Debate so dry, it's like torture."

"Politicians talking to politicians. Like watching a trial, lawyers talking to lawyers."

"I don't know if you can see us, but we're behind the councilors. Why not talk to us?"

"People are leaving! This was unthinkable at Westboro!"

And it was true -- people were getting up and walking out the door. What was the point in sticking around? This really had very little to do with us. Hard to believe that only the previous night, the debate had been fast and furious, people had been passionately involved in the discussion. Tonight? Democracy looked like a dead fish wrapped in day old newspaper.


Those of us who didn't leave nearly fell asleep.

I happened to be sitting with a bunch of journalism students who'd been forced to go to the debates as part of their schooling. One guy actually interviewed me briefly, before the debate started.

"Why are you here, and what do you hope to get out of the debates?" he asked me, and held a tiny microphone in front of my face.

I was blunt. "I'm here for political theatre," I said. Brian McGarry wasn't there, and I voiced disappointment. He's a clown. But hopefully this other Conservative could be equally amusing. I told him about my blog, and how I write about these events to amuse myself.

"I'm just here to write for a grade," he admitted.

I think I scared the guy with my passion -- which is fine. He needed scaring.

As the debate slithered along the floor on its belly, it bothered me to think that these journalism students would think this was a real candidates meeting. This dead thing, that was boring the hell out of us all, was not a debate.

I wanted to yell something out. I really, really wanted to scream. But I clenched my teeth and wished it was over.

Well, maybe a small act of rebellion. I wrote a note and passed it to the journalism student who had interviewed me. I wrote something like:

"This is not a debate. This is torture. City Council has taken over the evening. I hope this note helps you get a better grade. -- Nik"

The young would-be journalist had been frantically writing down facts. He skimmed my note. Gave me a flimsy thumbs up, tucked the note in the back of his binder, and went back to scribbling frantically. Even if he understood what I was trying to say, this was just homework. He wasn't there by choice. He was just hunting for a good grade.

Sometimes, when I attend events like this, I think of myself as an objective observer who cannot participate. My job is to record the facts. I am not supposed to get involved.

But that's bullshit. Because really, I don't believe in objective journalism. That's why I write in the first person -- it's honest. I am there, experiencing, interpreting, interacting. My presence changes the story. Journalists who write in the third person and keep themselves out of the events are liars.

Speaking of liars, a large portion of the audience were Conservative stooges. It felt like Pierre Poilievre bussed them in. But really I can't say for sure. They applauded loudly whenever Pierre spoke. And at one point he said something that particularly tickled them, and they cheered.

The moderator was having none of that. Natalie reminded us that we were told to limit ourselves to polite applause. People laughed. I couldn't take it anymore. I snapped.

"Why are we even here?" I yelled. "Council is speaking for us!"

This got some response from the crowd, startled at least one councillor, but changed nothing.

I felt a little bit better, mind you.

The questions from council went on. The bland responses from the candidates droned on. The Liberal took potshots at the Conservative. The Conservative fired back. Paul Dewar looked trapped. All of the candidates looked trapped.

And really, I understood their position. When you're in a debate, you can't argue about the format. That makes you look like a whiny baby. You have to suck it up and play the game you're dealt.

It was only Jen Hunter who showed some spirit. I was really impressed with her tonight. The other three candidates spent their time sucking up to council. Jen showed passion, fire. Everyone else focused on the specific details that council wanted to hear. Jen occasionally knocked people over with her elbows.

She spoke about the housing issue, complimented some of the efforts people had tried, and said, "Alex Munter would be proud of us." This made Mayor Larry O'Brien flinch. After all, he and Munter had sparred for the job of mayor. Did Jen Hunter just throw a barb his way?

The audience seemed to miss this bit of colour in a night of gray. Most of us were half-asleep.


The mayor of Ottawa, Larry O'Brien.

Finally, after much pain, Natalie the moderator said, "Now council will ask questions that have been provided by you, the members of the audience."

I could not hold my tongue. "In the fifteen minutes remaining?" I yelled.

A councillor dutifully read out a question about affordable housing. The candidates responded.

When that was over, Natalie said, "Now the candidates will have three minutes to make their closing statements."

"One question?" I yelled in disbelief. There was some laughter, including from the candidates.

It's important to note that the audience was bored, but so was council. We started with the mayor and eight councillors -- nine in total. At the end of the night, the mayor was gone, and we had six councillors remaining. I watched the municipal politicians closely throughout the evening. Some of them came and went. Most paid little attention when one of their fellow councillors asked a question. They were just as bored as we were.

They were boring themselves! But really, isn't that what municipal government is all about?

Pierre's closing comments ignored my yells. He pandered to his base, and they were pleased.

Paul stressed the importance of council and candidates meeting like this, but then he tried to tactfully throw a bone my way.

"Perhaps people can come to other debates to have their questions answered." He mentioned his website, where a list of the other events could be found.

A small cluster of people cheered and clapped, myself among them. Yes, wouldn't it be great if we could ask questions?

This response seemed to make Paul nervous. He wanted to please council, but he also wanted to please us. It was a very narrow ledge he was walking.

Our wild applause seemed to baffle some people in the room. Again, I was left with the impression that the young journalism kids didn't know what a candidate meeting was supposed to look like. And the Conservatives in the room got what they wanted. Dull, plodding speeches make them happy. And that's why Conservatives never get invited to the better dinner parties.

Paul McGuinty stressed what a wonderful opportunity this evening was. We should really do this again sometime, possibly even between elections.

I shook my head and mouthed the word "no" repeatedly. Jen Hunter saw me doing this and laughed.

It was Jen who got to make the final comments of the evening. She laughed and said that sometimes the debates reminded her of "a Simpson's episode. No new taxes? Really?" You're going to promise that old chestnut again? "And if Larry were here I'd say that too," she quipped.

Poor Mayor Larry and his "zero means zero" promise of tax increases. Jen zinged him again -- and he wasn't even there to flinch and look hurt.

Jen got very passionate at the end. She reached out to the audience in a way that none of the other candidates had. What you think matters, she said. We need a "robust dialogue". She hinted that Conservatives were all doom and gloom, trying to scare us away from the political process. Canada is a strong, good country, and we are capable of great things.

She really roused me. But the Conservative goons seemed to think she was an airhead hippy, spouting typical hippy nonsense. The stupid bastards really didn't get it.

It was all over. Diane Deans, one of the councillors who managed to stick it out to the end, gave a little speech to wrap it all up. She thanked Natalie Pierosara for doing a great job as moderator. (Natalie smiled weakly. She obviously felt she'd done a fairly crappy job.) Deans encouraged us to get out and vote -- while keeping municipal issues in mind, naturally.

There are questionnaires at the door, she informed us. We could fill them out, if we had any questions for the candidates.

"Or we could talk to them?" I muttered, loud enough for the circle of people around me to hear.

As people were leaving, I went up to Jen Hunter and shook her hand. "You were one of the only people up there who looked alive," I told her.

We chatted a bit, and she seemed very happy. But then again, Jen Hunter always looks happy. And alive.

Brian McGarry: Conservative Oddball

Westboro All Candidates Meeting -- Sept 28th, 2008

A young woman stood up at the microphone to ask a question. She owns a production company. Recently, the Conservatives had announced yet another cut to arts funding. This was going to hurt her small business. What, she wanted to know, would the Conservatives do to help her? Brian McGarry, the Conservative candidate, kept referring to himself as a small business man who wants to support other small business owners. Surely he could identify with her plight.

Brian responded by saying that the Conservatives have really improved employment insurance a great deal.

The crowd roared with laughter. John Akpata, the Marijuana Party candidate, made a gesture as if he were passing a joint to Brian. And it was as good an explanation as any -- Brian McGarry was answering like he was stoned.

What in the hell was Brian thinking? Don't worry, sweetheart -- when your business fails, we have a wonderful support structure in place to help you out.

Sensing he'd just made a bizarre gaffe, Brian quickly announced that the McGarrys of Ottawa have done a lot to support the arts. Which seemed to play to that Conservative chestnut of wisdom -- government shouldn't support the arts, private individuals should. But Brian didn't make this point very clearly. Or at all, really.

John Akpata then addressed the issue. He spoke about how government grants support artists, who in turn put tons of their own money into their projects, thus improving the economy. So in this sense, a grant is an excellent investment for all of Canada. John argued that this issue was really about the Conservatives wanting to shut people up. Artists criticize the government, so cut their funding.

While they're cutting funding for the arts, John said, the CRTC recently approved a Canadian porn channel. By law, 50% of the content of that channel will have to be Canadian made. "The Federal government would rather you make pornography than make art."

The audience roared with laughter and clapped with approval. John Akpata, as a poet and an artist, had just effectively skewered the Conservatives with his rapier wit.


John Akpata and Paul Dewar, chatting.

Brian McGarry, not knowing when to quit, asked for a chance to make a rebuttal. He mentioned a specific musician -- one I had never heard of -- and said that she never asked for a single cent of grant money, and now she's a known international celebrity. So there you go.

Again, the audience laughed at him, and Brian McGarry blinked in frustrated amazement. As is often the case with Conservative candidates, they seem to take their own positions for granted. When faced with a group of people who disagree with them, they are dumbfounded.


Brian McGarry is a blustering Conservative toady.

I love Brian -- but for all the wrong reasons. At the debate, he was an arrogant know-nothing, convinced of his own genius. Pompous in the extreme, he opened his mouth and spewed the most bizarre, entertaining drivel.

He repeatedly described himself as a small business owner, once going so far as to use this as an excuse for his lack of knowledge. He said something like, I wouldn't know anything about that issue, as I haven't had time to research it. You see, I am a small business owner who works to earn a living.

This did not endear him to the crowd, much to his surprise. Evidently he's unaware that Ottawans are a smart, politically savvy group of people who research things. If we can do it, why can't he? That "Shucks, I'm just a small business man and I don't know nothin' bout such complex issues," does not play here.

NOTE TO BRIAN: Try running for office in Arnprior. That tactic might work there.

The issue of the portrait gallery was raised. The matter can be summarized thusly -- the Conservatives don't want open debate on where a National Portrait Gallery will be built. Paul Dewar has done tons of work on this issue, exposing the corrupt and bizarre processes the Conservatives are using. He has also attended various rallies in support of the gallery being located in Ottawa.

Brian said that "rallies" aren't going to help. You need "the right person for the job." Send me to Parliament, he said, and I'll make sure the gallery is in Ottawa.

Again, the audience laughed, and Brian seemed amazed.

Paul has done physically demonstrable things. He can point at the tough questions he's asked of the Conservatives, the access to information requests he filed, and the rallies he has attended.

Brian has done nothing. But if we elect him, he'll get off his ass and do something. Not exactly a great argument.

A question was asked about minority government. For the past two years, there has been a minority party ruling like they have a majority. Chances are good there will be another minority government. Will you reach out to the other parties, cooperate, and be sure to get things done? The question was addressed to Penny Colenette, the Liberal, and Brian.

Penny said simply, "Yes, of course." She's in the election to win, but obviously she wants to make government work, should there be a minority.

Brian's turn. He responded as if he hadn't heard a word Penny said. He blamed the current election on the Liberals -- that they'd just been waiting for a chance to take the Conservatives down. The Liberals put this country in a mess, ruling for 40 years, and the Conservatives have only had a 2 year shot.

The moderator asked Penny if she wanted a chance for rebuttal, and she smiled sadly and shook her head.

NOTE TO BRIAN: When your opponent refuses a chance to offer rebuttal, it's because you have said something so glaringly stupid that she doesn't even feel the need to point it out.

Brian at one point trashed Jack Layton -- saying he was no Ed Broadbent. He then went on to talk about what a wonderful leader Steven Harper is. He'd sat down with the man and spoken to him. Harper is a great man, a wonderful man, a terrific leader.

And it became clear that Brian is all for personality cults. He sees Steven Harper as being an excellent man. He perceives himself as being an excellent man. And that should be enough. That should be a reason to vote for someone.

But that wasn't enough for the audience. And this seemed to confuse Brian. Hadn't we noticed how wonderful he was?

NOTE TO BRIAN: You can't just tell us you're wonderful. You have to demonstrate it to us with concrete examples.

That Brian repeatedly came across as downright ignorant never seemed to faze him.

"I thank you for your knowledge which is far excessive than mine," he said to one questioner. Maybe we should meet later and discuss this issue, he suggested.

These excuses for ignorance should have been downright embarrassing for him, but he seemed to take them in stride.

When a woman stood up, wearing a medical marijuana T-shirt, and asked Brian about marijuana, Brian said, as bluntly as he could:

"I'm not in favour of legalization, period."

And then he dramatically dropped the microphone on the table in front of him.

Needless to say, this was a slap in the face to the woman who just asked the question, and she was pissed off. She started to yell about how she has epilepsy and the medication she's on is ripping apart her guts, and marijuana would be a great ease to her suffering.

Brian didn't seem apologetic in the slightest and came across as an uncaring monster. This might have been his biggest, stupidest mistake of the evening. Most politicians would at least pretend to care about what their constituents want.

But things weren't all bad for Brian McGarry. He had some supporters. A group of old, grumpy, thick-looking men all sat together in a little group, stage right, and cheered for everything McGarry said, no matter how stupid or insane.


Conservative supporters are often old and weird looking.

Every time they clapped, people turned to look at them like they were nuts. They were obviously in the minority, and their cheers seemed especially strange coming from that one section of the room.

NOTE TO BRIAN: you might want to ask your supporters to spread out a little, so they don't sound like a cluster of demented cheerleaders.

Mind you, not all McGarry supporters are ancient, surly-looking monsters. There were some very white young men in McGarry T-shirts, supporting his cause. These young, idealistic Conservatives looked like business majors hoping to gain power any way they could. Something about them made me think of young preppy kids hanging out at their parents' yacht club.


A young, heartless Conservative.

Paul Dewar pretty much put the other candidates to shame. Each of them in turn said something like, I don't know much about that issue. I need more time to research it. Perhaps we could confer later about that matter.

Paul always knew what they were talking about. He was always on the ready with details, specific examples, descriptions of the problems and what steps he was going to take.

Someone at the microphone asked an extremely obscure question about copyright law. The moderator, Rita Celli, asked if anyone wanted to address the question. All the candidates looked sheepishly at their shoes -- except for Paul Dewar. Not only did he speak to the matter with knowledge and insight, he seemed passionate about it.

Often other candidates were left simply agreeing with Paul, and trying to add their own little spin to his statements.


Rita Celli, moderator for the evening.

Jen Hunter, the Green candidate, again came across as merely a supporter of the Green platform, with little else to offer -- with a few exceptions. She managed to sneak some personal details into the discussion that showed her to be passionate and human. Details about her own mother's need for medical marijuana made her seem especially appealing. And when the matter of the Civic Hospital possibly moving came up, she mentioned a relative who worked there.

While not exactly solutions to problems, it's details like these that make a politician human. I think they made the audience like her.


Jen Hunter, Green Party candidate.

Penny Colenette reminded me of my high school teachers on parent interview night. While well intentioned, sincere, and pleasant, she didn't offer very much to the evening. I hardly even noticed her.

I haven't said much about Pierre Soubliere. He's running for the Marxist-Leninist party. He comes across as an intellectual with real insight -- which is impressive, because his party is usually full of fringe loonies with nothing to say.

When proportional representation was raised, he spoke a catchy little mantra -- "Fund the process, not the party." Meaning, if you want democracy to work, you should put money towards funding people's interests in democracy, not give the money to the politicians running for office.

Pierre managed to get a few other bon mots out there. He argued that health care should not be viewed as an "expense" but as a "human right".

Drug addicts are being treated as criminals. Shouldn't this be addressed as a health issue? Pierre said this should hardly come as a surprise to us.

"Everything is being criminalized," he said. Pierre talked about protests, and how the government is "criminalizing dissent."

He talked about how youth crime was at an all time low, and yet the Conservatives were creating harsher sentences for youth crime. They were embracing "law and order" solutions when there was no need for them.

I expected McGarry would be particularly upset about that harsher youth crimes jab, but he seemed to hardly notice it.

NOTE TO BRIAN: The fringe candidates are not running to win. They are running to get their ideas out there. You need to respond to their criticisms, even if you think these people are never going to get elected.

There was a full house for the debates. They turned people away at the door, once the maximum capacity was reached. It's nice to see that people care. A lot of great questions were asked. The political theatre was better than ever.

Yes, I've spent a lot of time trashing Brian McGarry -- as a politician. But as a character in a political play? Five stars! Hubris has never before been portrayed so beautifully. Brian McGarry isn't running for office -- his haircut is.

If you live in Ottawa Centre, and you want to see some of this stuff for yourself, head to City Hall Monday night. 7 PM until 9, there's going to be yet another showing of this excellent political play.

I can't wait to see what McGarry will say next. Hopefully a transsexual will ask him a question about human rights for the differently engendered. I bet he hasn't prepared a response for that sort of situation.


Okay, okay. Not all questions are excellent.

Some (Not All) Candidates Meeting -- Wednesday the 24th, 2008

When is a debate not a debate? When only the NDP and the Green Party show up, and they agree on every issue. For me, it was more interesting trying to locate the debate than actually being present for it. Want more participation in a democracy? Advertise the candidate debates.

As with previous elections, I want to go to the all candidates debates for Ottawa Centre. I enjoy the theatre that is political debate. So I've been keeping an eye on the websites of all the Ottawa Centre candidates. Brian McGarry, Penny Colenette, Paul Dewar, and Jen Hunter -- the big four -- all have webpages. None of them have an obvious "Upcoming Events" section. Which is bizarre. You would think they'd want their followers to go to the debates and support them.

I posted a comment on Jen Hunter's website -- could she tell me when the candidate meetings are taking place? One of her underlings responded, pointing me to a News & Events section on the Ottawa Greens website. It was there that I found the treasure load. All of the upcoming debates were listed.

And there was one that very night. It was being organized by the Carleton University and University of Ottawa Graduates Association.

A debate, tonight? Damn. I really was hoping to watch the season premiere of Heroes which I'd taped. Well, I suppose I could put TV off one night in order to participate in democracy.

According to the Greens' page, the debate was taking place at The National Archives. I thought I would confirm this. Cyberspace can be less reliable than meatspace. So I looked up the Archives, found their phone number, and called them. Their voice message system answered. I was given eight options. #2 was a calendar of events. Seemed logical. But when I pushed that, it started listing all the events taking place in the library in September and October.

So I called Paul Dewar's campaign office. A human being answered the phone (joy!) and I put the question to her:

"I hear there's a candidates debate tonight. Is Paul Dewar going?"

"A debate? Tonight? I really don't think so. Hold on, and I'll find out." She spoke to someone a few minutes, and came back on the line. "Yes, there is one, at the archives. And Paul will be there." She sounded surprised and a little suspicious that I knew about this before she did.

Great. So at around 6 PM, Michelle and I made our way to the National Archives -- an imposing building at the end of Wellington. And no one seemed to be there. We went up to the security guard to ask him about it. He was helpful, but clueless.

"No, there's nothing like that going on," he said. "Have an apple!"

For some reason he had a cardboard box of apples on his counter. We each took one.

Michelle and I retreated outside. Michelle told me to relax. Evidently I was getting stressed out. I called Paul Dewar's headquarters again.

"Are you sure there's a candidates meeting tonight at the National Archive? And what's the address for the place?"

(Maybe we were at the wrong archive?)

But the person on the phone gave me the address I was at, and said Paul Dewar would be there. She sounded a little worried. Were they sending Paul to some kind of trap? That's when I spotted someone with a Paul Dewar sign heading into the Archives. We decided to just follow her in.

The Dewar supporter went down a hall and started setting up a table with NDP propaganda. Obviously this was the place. I went back to the security guard to let him know.

"It's all taking place in the auditorium down the hall."

"That's funny," he said, consulting his paperwork. "I don't have anything scheduled for that room."

I don't know who to blame for this sort of stupid chaos. The organizers of the event seem to be a likely target. There wasn't a huge turn out for this debate -- maybe 50 people. Then again, if I'd known in advance that there were only going to be two candidates present, I probably wouldn't have gone either.


I am fat and bald and wear glasses.

There was a large room with tables and chairs, just before the auditorium. It was there that we met the moderator of the debates, Larry Rousseau. We overhead him saying that only Paul Dewar and Jen Hunter were coming to the debates. I inwardly groaned in annoyance. The Liberals said Penny Colenette couldn't make it due to a scheduling conflict, and said they'd find someone to go in her place. They didn't.

Brian McGarry's office said, "Call the party." So the organizers called other Conservative candidates -- and they all said, "Call the party, call the party." Eventually they just gave up on the Conservatives.

There's a rumour going around in the media that Conservatives have been told not to participate in any debates. On the surface, this seems like a boneheaded move. But then again, I know from experience that these local debates don't sway the vote that much. People often vote for a party, not for a particular representative. In some ridings the Conservatives can run a cabbage wearing a hat and still get tons of votes.

Still, it's funny -- when I head about non-participatory democracy, I assumed they meant the voters and not the politicians.

Larry Rousseau (the moderator) speculated that when the candidates heard the word "students", they were turned off. Plus the event was being co-sponsored by No War-Paix. That probably turned them off too. I could just picture the Conservative office getting the call, and assuming the debate was being organized by dirty hippies.

(I carry a notebook with me, to take notes. I scribbled down "No War / Peh". I wondered what Peh was all about. Michelle pointed out to me that the word is PAIX, the French word for "peace". What would I do without her?)

Stuart Ryan was also at this event -- he of the orange hair and snowy white eyebrows with matching moustache. He's run in previous elections as the Communist candidate, but isn't running this year. While we stood nearby, Stuart asked the moderator if he could sit on stage with the other candidates, and give the Communist perspective. The moderator said no. Stuart looked resigned about this -- he knew he was fighting for a lost cause.

Rejecting Stuart seemed doubly strange, given the lack of candidates available.

Michelle and I headed into the auditorium -- and noticed the stage was littered with flecks of lettuce and other bits of vegetable. What on earth had happened here earlier in the day? Was this where the security guard had gotten his apples? Some kind of market? Or had an earlier act been pelted with rotting lettuce?

Paul Dewar arrived and climbed up on the stage. There were two chairs and two microphones. Michelle and I were in the front row, and we said hello.

"Where's everyone else?" I asked.

"I'm here," Paul said. "Let's go!"

Jen Hunter arrived. And she had Akbar Manoussi with her. He's a Green Party candidate for Ottawa Vanier. A third chair was found and put on stage. The Green Party had Jen and Akbar, the NDP had Paul. The moderator asked if this was okay with Paul, and he smiled and said it was fine. Because what else could he say?


Akbar and Jen.

There were only two parties present instead of four. Presumably this is why the moderator said they were scaling back the program from two hours to one.

The moderator was also very concerned that the debate be civil. Several times he referred to a debate that took place the previous night in Nepean, where the Liberal and Conservative candidates were screaming at each other. "The moderator lost control," our moderator told us, and assured us that would not happen here.

And it didn't. Everyone was very civilized. Too civilized. It was almost impossible to tell the difference between the Greens and the NDP. Except for one big difference -- Paul Dewar was a better speaker.


Paul Dewar.

Jen Hunter and Akbar Manoussi took turns answering questions. Akbar was passionate, but rambled. Jen responded mostly by referring to the Green Party platform book. She read from it once. Another time she raised it up and waved it, to indicate that it supported exactly what the questioner was asking about. While it's nice to know what the Green Party platform stands for, this kind of answer feels vague and impersonal.

"What would you do about issue X?"

"The Green Party platform says we are very concerned with X and we would deal with it thusly..."

That's nice -- but it makes the candidate sound like a robot programmed by the Green Party.

Paul Dewar used specific examples that emphasized his competency. Even when not talking about himself, he used concrete statements about the real world.

Jen Hunter would say something like, the Green Party is concerned about war and we want peace, and that's captured in our platform.

Paul Dewar would say, "There is a war going on in Afghanistan." And go on to say Canada should not be there. And mention specific steps he personally took to improve the world.

Some of the interesting points that Paul brought out were as follows:

1. We don't know how much money Canada is spending on the war in Afghanistan. The Conservatives offer up estimates, but they have yet to provide concrete numbers. Paul has been pursuing this, demanding specific numbers.

2. Some American war resistors fled to Canada and wished to stay here. Parliament passed a motion to let them stay. The Conservatives ignored the motion and sent the resistors back to the US. Why did this happen? There's a dysfunction, "with the reigning party. There is not a dysfunction with Parliament."

3. The Conservatives are part of negotiating the SPP. None of the details are being made public. And the Conservatives have said they won't release any of the details until after the election.

The cumulative effect of Dewar's statements made the Conservatives seem like evil, power mad, anti-democratic lunatics. Add to this the fact that the Conservatives weren't even at the debate, the stories in the media that they're avoiding debates, and the Conservatives look really, really awful.

Sadly, the only people at the debates were dirty hippies. They already know the Conservatives are evil, power mad, anti-democratic lunatics.

Once the main questions were out of the way, Larry the moderator graciously gave Stuart a chance to speak.

Larry introduced Stuart Ryan as being from the Communist party. Then Larry explained to the (small) crowd that the organizers only invited the big four, "The Greens, the Oranges, the Blues, and the Reds." Then he paused, and said, "And by reds I mean Liberals."

Everyone laughed. Oh Stuart Ryan, you commie red. You are so adorable.

Stuart gave a rambling two minute speech in hesitant hems and haws. He went over two minutes, his microphone was cut off, and he sat down. There were polite applause.

The candidates then made closing comments. I forget what Jen said, because it was dull. Paul said Canadians are angry and confused about what role Canada is playing in the world. "We've lost our way," he said.

Larry Rousseau took the microphone again. He seemed very pleased with the debate which he described as civilized, polite, and Canadian. Of course the points of view expressed "converged quite a bit."

A bit? There was no debate. It was more of a presentation -- Paul Dewar and his kid sister, Jen Hunter, with her friend Akbar. Debate without debate. Utterly bloodless and bland. Oh, some interesting ideas were put forward -- but what's the point in calling the Conservatives names when they're not even in the room?

Everyone agreed that it was a terrible insult that neither the Liberals nor the Conservatives were present. Jen Hunter called it "disgusting." But really, why would these parties bother going to a gathering of pacifists? The dirty hippies always vote for the NDP and the Greens. (Or maybe the Marijuana Party, if they're feeling especially rebellious.) Brian McGarry's time would be far better served elsewhere, shaking hands with the upper middle class instead of hobnobbing with graduate students.

I can only hope at the next debate Jen Hunter calls McGarry and Collenette disgusting to their faces. Maybe then we'll have some blood, and see a debate that isn't quite so "Canadian".

Squid

Two goldfish and a squid.

I've managed to reduce the killer whales to goldfish and the octopus to a squid.

(Previously.)

Beckett's Happy Days

It's an old joke. Bear with me.

Two cannibals are eating a clown. One cannibal turns to the other and says:

"Does this taste funny to you?"

A classic joke. Now picture it told over an hour and a half. The cannibals make funny faces, and so does the clown -- until he's dead. And the two cannibals make light of their situation. And then finally it sort of sinks in as you watch that this amusing joke isn't very funny at all. But it still sort of is funny. And by the time the cannibal delivers the punchline, you're a little disgusted with yourself for even being there, watching the whole thing.

Beckett's play, Happy Days, is a lot like that. It's now playing at the NAC.

The first act is a woman buried up to her waist in earth. The second act, she's buried up to her neck. Her name is Winnie, and she's being ever so cheerful about her predicament. She makes faces and talks a lot of silly nonsense. It's funny.

And it's completely horrible and awful and painful and like a nightmare that she can't wake up from.

She's buried in this mound, and somewhere behind her is her husband Willie. We catch glimpses of him. He wears a kerchief on his head, under a hat. At one point he takes the kerchief off, blows his nose in it, and puts it back on his head. Willie is not all there.

I've bought season tickets to the NAC English theatre season again. It's my third year and Happy Days is the first play of the season. For the big, assigned seating plays, Michelle and I have fairly decent seats. And every year, sitting right next to us, is this semi-friendly elderly couple. We introduced ourselves, this year. (We got a little drunk at dinner.) His name is Don. I forget what her name is.

In the middle of the first act, Don fell asleep and started snoring. Michelle and I exchanged glances. Someone behind us snickered. Then the play got loud and Don woke up.

It was better in the second act. Don fell asleep again, started snoring. On stage, Winnie is buried up to her neck. She begins telling a fragmented story about a little girl under a table, taking the clothes off her dolly. And then a mouse ran up the girl's led and she starts to scream.

And Winnie screams at the top of her lungs.

Don almost fell out of his chair. It was awesome.

When we were leaving, someone sitting near us said, "Too bad about the man sleeping next to you, hmm?"

I said, quite seriously, "Not at all. I felt it really added flavour to the play, in a strange way."

And I meant it. I listen to harsh industrial music on headphones as I walk down the street. A truck will rumble past, and sometimes the combination of the mechanical noise music and the rumbling of the truck fits perfectly together and it sounds great.

Don's falling asleep was a lot like that.

But I'm not sure this is convincing you Happy Days is a play worth watching. I loved it. Mind you, the play is a form of existential torture. The audience kept laughing nervously. Funny things happen and are said, but they're always very dark, very creepy.

A clown falls down -- a pratfall. Slapstick. It's hilarious. But then you see that his nose is broken and bleeding. Is it part of the act? Should you still be laughing? The play is very much like that.

Whenever Winnie's eyes start to close, as she falls asleep, a harsh bell rings and wakes her up. I guess that's part of why Don being wakened by her scream was so amusing.

Winnie tells a story about how a couple saw her, stuck in her predicament. "What's it mean?" they asked. "What does she mean?" and "Why doesn't he dig her out?"

Winnie dismisses these people as coarse, boorish. And in a way, she's making fun of the audience watching her.

Well, why doesn't Willie dig her out? What does Winnie symbolize? What is this play all about?

Sinking, into the earth, losing consciousness. Most of you is dead and underground. And soon what little is still alive will join the rest of you down below. Mortality. Insanity. Losing yourself to the world. Becoming an unconscious thing. Winnie's temperament emphasizes this interpretation. She's becoming less and less human -- but she's not going to let it get her down! That's life! One must remain cheerful.

Or as she puts it, "Another happy day!"

One of the elements I really loved about the play was a two word line repeated over and over again: "And now?"

Winnie asks it of herself when she doesn't know what to do next. At first, the line is cute and funny. Now what? And it's as if the playwright himself is asking it of the audience. What do you do with a woman buried in the earth?

But as the play progresses, the line becomes more and more frightening. And now? Now, what do we do to pass the time until we are finally completely dead and buried in the ground?

The play is such a sophisticated blend of comedy and horror, that at times I wanted both to laugh and to cry. I found it moving and horrific and funny.

If this is any sign of where the NAC is going this season, I am intrigued. But I worry that the older, sleepier people might not be as happy. They want more Shakespeare. I want more Beckett.

Dead Puppy

I heard an awful news story on CBC radio Tuesday morning. Hunters killed a puppy and fled after they killed it. The puppy belonged to a boy recovering from cancer.

(You can read the details for yourself.)

Now, I don't want to sound cruel, but who gives a shit?

The media does. You could almost hear the announcer salivating as he read the story. That tone of serious despair came into his voice, but it was a happy, gleeful despair. The kind of fake sorrow that says, "Let's all be very sad together about these very tragic events -- which we'll forget about in ten seconds, when I'll tell you about the weather."

CBC radio's hourly news burp is maybe 8 minutes long. This sad little story about a dead puppy took 2 minutes of the 8. There's an election going on. There are Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan. There's an entire planet full of events out there. Who cares if some kid's puppy is murdered by hunters? Sure, it's sad if you're the kid. It's good the cops are investigating. But is this news?

People care more about dead pets than dead people. A fellow human being can be difficult to get along with. They can be annoying. We hate our equals.

A puppy seems innocent and helpless. It's inferior to us, so it makes us all gooey inside.

In the court of law, a human who kills a human gets a harsher sentence than a human who kills a puppy. Murder another person, we'll all be upset. But even the most soft-hearted of us can imagine a justifiable homicide. Self defence, or catching your partner in bed with someone else and having a fit of rage.

The court of public opinion is another matter. Kill a puppy in cold blood, and people will want to bring back the death penalty. Most of us can't imagine any plausible excuse for puppy murder. What, it nipped your fingers, so you killed it?

This is why a murder in B.C. might not make the national news. But the murder of a puppy is serious front page business.

This puppy murder is one of those "human interest" pieces that give reporters wet dreams. It has everything -- a puppy, a little boy, cancer, hunters who killed the puppy and escaped. All that's missing from the story is a hooker with a heart of gold. Or an old man in his 90s with words of wisdom for us all.

Puppies die every day. And they should. George Orwell famously wrote, "If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face -- forever." Substitute the human face with a puppy. Forever. And there's a journalist standing next to this eternal act, taking notes, turning it into a human interest story. And every day, for all of eternity, you open up your newspaper, and the headline reads:

"BOOT STAMPS ON PUPPY"

And Mr and Ms Public cluck their tongues and shake their heads and say, "How can such a thing happen? My oh my, dearie me."

And Mr and Ms Public do this every day, forever. Because they're too stupid to remember that yesterday a puppy got stamped on, and the day before that, and the day before that, back to the dawn of the printing press.

Let me be clear -- if someone stomped on one of my dogs, I would beat them senseless. I would be enraged. The cops would be involved.

But if a guy with a notepad and a plucky spirit showed up and said, "What a scoop!" then I would beat him senseless too.

The NDP Launch

There was a corner store on Booth street that was dying ever so slowly. Mecca Foods, it was called. One sign proclaimed COFFEE AND DONUTS, but I don't think they sold either. The shelves were nearly bare from the day it first opened. I remember reading an article about the owner in the Centretown News. He always wanted to open a store. It was his lifelong dream. He was so happy about achieving it.

Michelle and I went in there once and bought a bottle of Coke, and the owner thanked us. It was one of those sincere thanks that leaves you feeling a little creepy. Like a leper thanking you for not spitting on him.

Of course the store died. Everyone expected it to die. And I don't think anyone was happy about it.

A week later, the NDP took over. The store became Paul Dewar's campaign headquarters. They stapled Paul Dewar signs all over the old signs. The headquarters are very close to where I live -- I can almost lean out my front door and watch Paul Dewar's people plotting their takeover of the world.

So when Paul Dewar announced there was to be a party to celebrate his official nomination for the upcoming election, my partner Michelle and I went. Why? Free food. That's socialism for you. All are welcome, and we will feed you. Do Conservatives feed the masses like this? Probably. Which just goes to show you that the NDP and socialism are in the right.

The place was packed and hot. As soon as we walked through the door, we were dripping sweat. I scoped out the room, located the food, and headed straight for it.

Mostly vegetarian fare, naturally. Cream cheese rolls, spring rolls, and little meaty pastries. I tried one of each and found them all pretty bland. A volunteer located the corn starch based biodegradable pseudo-plastic cups and put them on the counter. I grabbed one, filled it with lemonade, and chugged it down.

Strangely, no one else was eating the food. I think they were politely waiting for someone to invite them to dig in. The fools.


Paul Dewar post-it notes.

Ed Broadbent, NDP deity that he is, was there. I can't help but think of what my anarchist friend Andrew said about Ed Broadbent a long time ago.

"All of humanity can die," Andrew said. "I hate them all. Except the pygmies in Africa. And Ed Broadbent. They may live."

So now, whenever I see Ed, I picture him living with the pygmies. They would worship him like a god -- just like the NDP does.

Michelle had the camera and was snapping photos of Ed, the people, the walls.

"Get a picture of the food," I said.

Because for me, these free functions are all about the food. And in this case the food was bland. Savannah Cafe provided the fare. They could have done better. Shame on them. Those cream cheese rolls were wilting in this heat.


Bland vegetarian spring rolls.

Ed Broadbent saw Michelle taking a picture of the spring rolls and said, "You're taking pictures of the food?"

Michelle pointed at me. "I'm taking directions from him."

"We're going to do a big article about it," I said. "It'll be called 'What Do Socialists Eat?' A big two page spread."

Ed laughed, but looked at me suspiciously, like I might be serious.

CBC was there. CTV was there. Big cameras, right in front of the audience, blocking the view of Ed. It often feels like these non-events are for the media, and not the people. The speeches are given to the audience, but made for the world.

One guy went up to Ed Broadbent and said, "Mr. Broadbent, can I ask you a few questions?"

Ed nodded and smiled.

"I'm filming a documentary," he said.

For reasons that are difficult to explain, I hated the guy instinctively. With his floppy dyed blonde hair and artsy glasses (quite similar to my own glasses) he looked like the sort of person who goes up to people and says "I'm filming a documentary." That was enough. He had a little portable video camera strapped to his hand and filmed Ed's speech.

He seemed a very serious, very earnest young man. It made me want to bite him.


"I'm filming a documentary."

This was Paul Dewar's party, but he wasn't there. Ed's speech explained this immediately. Paul's mother, Marion Dewar, had a fall the previous day. Paul went to be with her in Toronto. Ed said that Paul's priorities were entirely right. Still, Ed wanted to launch this party as best he could. So he rambled on about how great Paul Dewar is, how the NDP is awesome, and what issues we all face in the upcoming Canadian election.

The speech bored me, and I admit I stopped paying attention and surveyed the crowd. Young people love the NDP, and there were a lot of young people there in orange NDP shirts. The camera news guys looked as bored as I was. I eyed the food on the counter next to me, but didn't bother grabbing any more grub. It was, like I said, bland stuff.


Ed Broadbent.

When Ed finished his speech, Evelyn Gigantes begged us all for money. She reminded us that we'd get 75% of it back at tax time, so really it was more a loan than a gift.

What? I thought. Pay you money for food like this? No thanks!

Speeches over, the place sweltering hot, the bland food eaten, Michelle and I got the hell out of there.