Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Ring and The Thieving Magpie
The short version:
On July 15th, I ordered a ring from Magpie Jewellery, in the Rideau Centre. They told me it would take about a month to arrive. On Friday, October 17th -- three months later -- I finally got my ring. I recommend you not do business with them.
The Long version:
Rings are symbolic of many things, but I tend to see them as a focusing of my own personal energy and self. A long time ago, I bought a plain stainless steel ring. It was my hope that the ring would serve as a reminder that I wanted to eat better and be healthier. Also, it felt like I was putting some of my personality in the ring, giving it some kind of power. It's silly and irrational, but so am I.
I did lose some weight. Ironically, the ring then slipped off my skinnier finger. I lost it. And it almost goes without saying -- I gained back the weight. That's what happens when you lose a magic ring.
Walking through the Rideau Centre in July, I noticed Magpie and I thought I'd take a look, see if there was anything I might like. Maybe a replacement ring. They have some great rings by a company called TeNo -- plain, tough, masculine. They're a German company and it shows -- their jewellery tends towards modern, harsh lines, no frills, solid steel.
Magpie is a predominantly feminine store. Despite being a small place, there are often four or five employees working at once. All the employees are pretty young women. Going in there makes me feel old and perverse and fat.
The store used to be very dark, with black counters and cabinets. Almost goth. Now the store is very white -- the complete opposite of what it used to be. The counters gleam. It's as if the store had a terrifying experience -- a head of black hair going white overnight.
Looking at TeNo rings in a cabinet, one caught my interest. It was stainless steel with a stripe of silver running through it. Very much like abstract art. Picture a steel canvas with one silver stripe. I asked to see the ring and then admired it and mulled the matter over.
"Oh what the hell. I want one."
It felt like it was time to replace the steel ring I'd lost so long ago.
The clerk fitted me for the ring. "You're taking a quarter size," she said. "We'll have to order the ring from Germany. So it will take 4 to 6 weeks for it to get here."
"No problem," I said. "I'm in no rush."
I paid the full price upfront -- around $200. And then I pretty much forgot about the whole thing.
A month later, on August 15th, Magpie called me about my ring. It was ready. I went in after work to pick it up.
The person who helped me purchase the ring was very friendly, blonde and bubbly, overflowing with joy.
The brunette woman helping me pick up the ring was not happy. She had one of those small, pinched faces better suited to an old woman. She seemed irritated by my very existence, the stud in her nose accentuating the wrinkled look of annoyance.
I got the feeling I was not cool enough for her. She treated me as a distraction from the better parts of her life. Maybe it was because there was no possibility of her earning a commission. I'd already paid for the ring, after all. Or maybe she was just young and insecure.
She handed me the ring. I put it on and it fit great.
"Would you like a box for it?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, although I had every intention of wearing the ring out of the store.
She dug through a drawer and presented me with a small cardboard box that said "TeNo" on the lid.
"Maybe I'll put the ring in the box later, wrap it up, and give it to myself as a gift," I joked.
"Sounds like fun," she said, making the word "fun" sound suspiciously like the word "pathetic".
She fiddled around on the computer for a bit.
"So... Is that it?" I asked politely.
"I just have to print out a final receipt for you," she said icily.
I waited. She handed me a receipt, I stuck it in my pocket, thanked her, and left.
What a great ring, I thought. Getting used to wearing it would be a challenge. But for now I had to go to the grocery store and get the ingredients for dinner, go home and walk the dogs, and do a dozen other things.
It was around bed time that I really looked at the ring. To me, it looked like a plain, stainless steel ring, with four black lines etched around it. Something about that didn't seem right. It had been a month since I picked the ring out and paid for it. But my memory insisted that this wasn't the ring I chose. For starters, it didn't look like it had any silver in it at all. Just steel.
I found the receipt and looked at it. It had a description of the ring on it: "steel ring with a thick silver stripe." That was not the ring they gave me. A vague memory of a ring with a single stripe came into my mind.
I went to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I'd have to go back to the store tomorrow. What would I say to them? How could I explain that I left with this ring, even though it wasn't the one I ordered? Were they trying to rip me off? The steel ring was almost certainly cheaper than the silver one. The woman who gave me the ring seemed like a real cold-hearted bitch. I'd bought stuff at Magpie before. They'd always been good. What the hell was this all about?
I felt cheated, betrayed. More than just a ring was at stake. It felt like my identity was on the line. I'd been deprived of power. Instead of the ring I wanted, I got a ring of lesser value. They wanted me to settle for less. But I was unwilling. No, no, I would fight for what was rightfully mine.
There was also the dream I'd had a few days earlier, which seemed oddly prophetic.
* * *
I work with a band of thieves, and we break into a feminine temple to steal something. (I played too much Dungeons and Dragons in my teens.) This temple is some kind of cult church for women only. We find the object fairly quickly and now we are trying to escape the temple undetected. In typical adventurer fashion, we run into various tests designed to prevent us from leaving. In one room, a trap is set off. Panels slide away to reveal magic mirrors that do something terrible. Fortunately I know that putting a ticket down on a particular pedestal makes the mirrors go away.
In another room, a sorceress summons an army of female pillow golems. She waves her hands, casting a spell, and couch cushions float up and become women warriors. I whack them to pieces in a pillow fight combat.
* * *
The dream felt like I was trying to reclaim something from women -- something they had stolen from me. A power I had, stolen from me. And I broke into the temple to steal my power back.
It was hard not to see some kind of connection between this dream and the gaggle of women at Magpie. They were the women of the temple, the ring was the object of power. And a magpie -- that thieving bird, had tried to prevent me from getting what was rightfully mine.
All of these thoughts twisted together and made for a sleepless night.
The next morning I checked the TeNo website and confirmed my suspicions. Magpie had given me the wrong ring. Not only that, but the steel ring they gave me was $80 cheaper than the ring I paid for. I copied photos of the rings -- the one I wanted and the one I got -- to my cell phone. I could show them the photos as proof of the error.
At lunch, I went to the Rideau Centre. The nasty woman from the day before was there, leaning against the wall. She seemed surprised to see me, and her eyes narrowed. But I wound up talking to a different employee. This woman who served me was incredibly apologetic. Turned out she was the store manager. When I mentioned I had photos, she asked to see them. And they seemed to convince her of their error.
I said, "I got the wrong ring yesterday, I should have mentioned it then, but..."
She brushed aside my apology. "You were excited to get your ring. Of course you wouldn't notice."
She took back the first ring, and assured me they would correct this.
"Will it be another 4 to 6 weeks?" I asked. "Not that I'm in any hurry."
"Well, to be honest, I'm going to put a rush on the order," the manager said. "We might call you as early as Monday."
And that was all there was to it, much to my surprise. I thanked her, she apologized one last time, and she gave me another receipt.
That was August 16th. It would be another two months before I got my ring.
* * *
Monday seemed optimistic to me. And just as I suspected, they never called. I waited a week -- until Friday the 22nd -- and then called them.
At first there was some confusion with the person I was talking to. She said she would have to check the computer about the ring. I gave her my last name -- MAACK. I was put on hold. Then someone else came on the line and said they'd have to call me back. I started to give them my work number, when she admitted the problem was there were two MAACKs in the computer, and they would have to figure that out.
"One is me, one is my sister," I said. This issue had come up in a previous discussion with Magpie employees.
"Oh!" said the sales person. "And you ordered it under your name?"
"Right," I said. Why would I order a ring under my sister's name?
"Oh, okay. Hmm... Well, it looks like your ring isn't here yet. We'll call you as soon as it arrives."
Her tone said it all: Dude, be patient! Do you think we're incompetent or something?
Well, as a matter of fact...
* * *
At Magpie, a rush order is not a rush order. I went to Magpie in person on the 14th of September, to ask on the status of my ring -- "which I ordered in July," I said pointedly.
The manager -- the same one who helped me before -- looked flustered and embarrassed. That made me feel a little better.
"You were the one with the mix up before," she said, suddenly realizing who I was. "The ring should be here by now." She took out a box containing cardboard cards, found my order, looked at it. "I ordered it on the 19th of August. Hmm. Well, I'll call TeNo on Monday and find out what's going on. I'll get back to you."
"Thanks," I said. And walked off.
I'd been hoping to make a scene, but it's hard to make someone feel bad when they already appear to feel bad.
If the manager called TeNo that Monday, she did not call me afterwards.
* * *
October 8th, I called Magpie again. They told me I would have to speak to the manager, but she wasn't there right now. When would she be there? They didn't know. Could they have her call me? No, they couldn't do that -- but they would pass on my message.
Why can't they have her call me? What the hell was that all about?
I complained to a few coworkers. They all told me to just ask for a refund, but I refused to do so. Damn those thieving magpies, they would give me the ring I was promised. The money wasn't that important to me. I wanted my ring. My soul! My power! My testicles! My whatever!
I showed up at the store the same evening, October 8th. It surprised me that the manager didn't recognize me by sight alone. I mentioned my name and it clicked.
"I'm sorry, I never got a chance to call you," she said. "I was at a meeting until 5 PM."
It was now 7 PM. What had she been doing for two hours?
She assured me she would call TeNo tomorrow and get back to me.
* * *
On the 9th, at around 4 PM, I called again. The manager answered the phone. I told her my name. It seemed to mean nothing to her -- but then something clicked again. She told me she had called TeNo and they had yet to call her back.
"Maybe they're not there, because of the long weekend," she said. "I'm going to hound them."
It was Thursday. Monday was a holiday. Why would TeNo be off on a Thursday, for the long weekend? And aren't they in Germany? Was she talking to some distributor in Ottawa?
I swore to myself then that I would call Magpie every single day until I got my ring. Every single day, without exception.
* * *
At around 11 AM, October 14th, my cell phone rang. Magpie Jewellery was calling me. They said that they got hold of TeNo and the ring was being shipped out today. The ring should be in by the end of the week.
"Great!" I said. But in my heart of hearts, I thought, I'll believe it when I see the ring, in person, and it turns out to be the right one.
* * *
Friday, October 17th, I got another a phone call. The ring was ready for pick up. As soon as my work day was over, I rushed over to the Rideau Centre. It was the right ring.
"And we overcharged you," the manager told me, "by fifty dollars."
"I really don't think so," I said. "But I won't question it."
"I won't question it either," she said.
I gave her my credit card, and they gave me a refund of $51.98. Maybe TeNo gave them a discount because of all the screw ups and they passed the discount on to me. I don't really know.
She apologized once more for all the confusion and heart ache. I thanked her for her help.
I've now got my ring, and I'm wearing it as I type these words.
* * *
So what have I learned? I'm not entirely sure. I probably won't buy anything from Magpie again. Looking at the TeNo website, I see I can order things from them directly. "Usually ships the same business day," their site promises. What do I need Magpie for?
On a more symbolic level, I feel like I've earned my ring. If you let your mind get literary or dream-like, even the most mundane actions can take on a mystical feel. A trip to the corner store for a bag of chips is a mystical quest full of danger and hardship.
Strangely, I feel like my dream of breaking into the temple of women has come true. I've escaped the magpie women, and I have my ring.
Hmm. It doesn't really seem to do anything magical.
[A link to this story has been sent to the people at Magpie.]
On July 15th, I ordered a ring from Magpie Jewellery, in the Rideau Centre. They told me it would take about a month to arrive. On Friday, October 17th -- three months later -- I finally got my ring. I recommend you not do business with them.
The Long version:
Rings are symbolic of many things, but I tend to see them as a focusing of my own personal energy and self. A long time ago, I bought a plain stainless steel ring. It was my hope that the ring would serve as a reminder that I wanted to eat better and be healthier. Also, it felt like I was putting some of my personality in the ring, giving it some kind of power. It's silly and irrational, but so am I.
I did lose some weight. Ironically, the ring then slipped off my skinnier finger. I lost it. And it almost goes without saying -- I gained back the weight. That's what happens when you lose a magic ring.
Walking through the Rideau Centre in July, I noticed Magpie and I thought I'd take a look, see if there was anything I might like. Maybe a replacement ring. They have some great rings by a company called TeNo -- plain, tough, masculine. They're a German company and it shows -- their jewellery tends towards modern, harsh lines, no frills, solid steel.
Magpie is a predominantly feminine store. Despite being a small place, there are often four or five employees working at once. All the employees are pretty young women. Going in there makes me feel old and perverse and fat.
The store used to be very dark, with black counters and cabinets. Almost goth. Now the store is very white -- the complete opposite of what it used to be. The counters gleam. It's as if the store had a terrifying experience -- a head of black hair going white overnight.
Looking at TeNo rings in a cabinet, one caught my interest. It was stainless steel with a stripe of silver running through it. Very much like abstract art. Picture a steel canvas with one silver stripe. I asked to see the ring and then admired it and mulled the matter over.
"Oh what the hell. I want one."
It felt like it was time to replace the steel ring I'd lost so long ago.
The clerk fitted me for the ring. "You're taking a quarter size," she said. "We'll have to order the ring from Germany. So it will take 4 to 6 weeks for it to get here."
"No problem," I said. "I'm in no rush."
I paid the full price upfront -- around $200. And then I pretty much forgot about the whole thing.
A month later, on August 15th, Magpie called me about my ring. It was ready. I went in after work to pick it up.
The person who helped me purchase the ring was very friendly, blonde and bubbly, overflowing with joy.
The brunette woman helping me pick up the ring was not happy. She had one of those small, pinched faces better suited to an old woman. She seemed irritated by my very existence, the stud in her nose accentuating the wrinkled look of annoyance.
I got the feeling I was not cool enough for her. She treated me as a distraction from the better parts of her life. Maybe it was because there was no possibility of her earning a commission. I'd already paid for the ring, after all. Or maybe she was just young and insecure.
She handed me the ring. I put it on and it fit great.
"Would you like a box for it?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, although I had every intention of wearing the ring out of the store.
She dug through a drawer and presented me with a small cardboard box that said "TeNo" on the lid.
"Maybe I'll put the ring in the box later, wrap it up, and give it to myself as a gift," I joked.
"Sounds like fun," she said, making the word "fun" sound suspiciously like the word "pathetic".
She fiddled around on the computer for a bit.
"So... Is that it?" I asked politely.
"I just have to print out a final receipt for you," she said icily.
I waited. She handed me a receipt, I stuck it in my pocket, thanked her, and left.
What a great ring, I thought. Getting used to wearing it would be a challenge. But for now I had to go to the grocery store and get the ingredients for dinner, go home and walk the dogs, and do a dozen other things.
It was around bed time that I really looked at the ring. To me, it looked like a plain, stainless steel ring, with four black lines etched around it. Something about that didn't seem right. It had been a month since I picked the ring out and paid for it. But my memory insisted that this wasn't the ring I chose. For starters, it didn't look like it had any silver in it at all. Just steel.
I found the receipt and looked at it. It had a description of the ring on it: "steel ring with a thick silver stripe." That was not the ring they gave me. A vague memory of a ring with a single stripe came into my mind.
I went to bed, but I couldn't sleep. I'd have to go back to the store tomorrow. What would I say to them? How could I explain that I left with this ring, even though it wasn't the one I ordered? Were they trying to rip me off? The steel ring was almost certainly cheaper than the silver one. The woman who gave me the ring seemed like a real cold-hearted bitch. I'd bought stuff at Magpie before. They'd always been good. What the hell was this all about?
I felt cheated, betrayed. More than just a ring was at stake. It felt like my identity was on the line. I'd been deprived of power. Instead of the ring I wanted, I got a ring of lesser value. They wanted me to settle for less. But I was unwilling. No, no, I would fight for what was rightfully mine.
There was also the dream I'd had a few days earlier, which seemed oddly prophetic.
* * *
I work with a band of thieves, and we break into a feminine temple to steal something. (I played too much Dungeons and Dragons in my teens.) This temple is some kind of cult church for women only. We find the object fairly quickly and now we are trying to escape the temple undetected. In typical adventurer fashion, we run into various tests designed to prevent us from leaving. In one room, a trap is set off. Panels slide away to reveal magic mirrors that do something terrible. Fortunately I know that putting a ticket down on a particular pedestal makes the mirrors go away.
In another room, a sorceress summons an army of female pillow golems. She waves her hands, casting a spell, and couch cushions float up and become women warriors. I whack them to pieces in a pillow fight combat.
* * *
The dream felt like I was trying to reclaim something from women -- something they had stolen from me. A power I had, stolen from me. And I broke into the temple to steal my power back.
It was hard not to see some kind of connection between this dream and the gaggle of women at Magpie. They were the women of the temple, the ring was the object of power. And a magpie -- that thieving bird, had tried to prevent me from getting what was rightfully mine.
All of these thoughts twisted together and made for a sleepless night.
The next morning I checked the TeNo website and confirmed my suspicions. Magpie had given me the wrong ring. Not only that, but the steel ring they gave me was $80 cheaper than the ring I paid for. I copied photos of the rings -- the one I wanted and the one I got -- to my cell phone. I could show them the photos as proof of the error.
At lunch, I went to the Rideau Centre. The nasty woman from the day before was there, leaning against the wall. She seemed surprised to see me, and her eyes narrowed. But I wound up talking to a different employee. This woman who served me was incredibly apologetic. Turned out she was the store manager. When I mentioned I had photos, she asked to see them. And they seemed to convince her of their error.
I said, "I got the wrong ring yesterday, I should have mentioned it then, but..."
She brushed aside my apology. "You were excited to get your ring. Of course you wouldn't notice."
She took back the first ring, and assured me they would correct this.
"Will it be another 4 to 6 weeks?" I asked. "Not that I'm in any hurry."
"Well, to be honest, I'm going to put a rush on the order," the manager said. "We might call you as early as Monday."
And that was all there was to it, much to my surprise. I thanked her, she apologized one last time, and she gave me another receipt.
That was August 16th. It would be another two months before I got my ring.
* * *
Monday seemed optimistic to me. And just as I suspected, they never called. I waited a week -- until Friday the 22nd -- and then called them.
At first there was some confusion with the person I was talking to. She said she would have to check the computer about the ring. I gave her my last name -- MAACK. I was put on hold. Then someone else came on the line and said they'd have to call me back. I started to give them my work number, when she admitted the problem was there were two MAACKs in the computer, and they would have to figure that out.
"One is me, one is my sister," I said. This issue had come up in a previous discussion with Magpie employees.
"Oh!" said the sales person. "And you ordered it under your name?"
"Right," I said. Why would I order a ring under my sister's name?
"Oh, okay. Hmm... Well, it looks like your ring isn't here yet. We'll call you as soon as it arrives."
Her tone said it all: Dude, be patient! Do you think we're incompetent or something?
Well, as a matter of fact...
* * *
At Magpie, a rush order is not a rush order. I went to Magpie in person on the 14th of September, to ask on the status of my ring -- "which I ordered in July," I said pointedly.
The manager -- the same one who helped me before -- looked flustered and embarrassed. That made me feel a little better.
"You were the one with the mix up before," she said, suddenly realizing who I was. "The ring should be here by now." She took out a box containing cardboard cards, found my order, looked at it. "I ordered it on the 19th of August. Hmm. Well, I'll call TeNo on Monday and find out what's going on. I'll get back to you."
"Thanks," I said. And walked off.
I'd been hoping to make a scene, but it's hard to make someone feel bad when they already appear to feel bad.
If the manager called TeNo that Monday, she did not call me afterwards.
* * *
October 8th, I called Magpie again. They told me I would have to speak to the manager, but she wasn't there right now. When would she be there? They didn't know. Could they have her call me? No, they couldn't do that -- but they would pass on my message.
Why can't they have her call me? What the hell was that all about?
I complained to a few coworkers. They all told me to just ask for a refund, but I refused to do so. Damn those thieving magpies, they would give me the ring I was promised. The money wasn't that important to me. I wanted my ring. My soul! My power! My testicles! My whatever!
I showed up at the store the same evening, October 8th. It surprised me that the manager didn't recognize me by sight alone. I mentioned my name and it clicked.
"I'm sorry, I never got a chance to call you," she said. "I was at a meeting until 5 PM."
It was now 7 PM. What had she been doing for two hours?
She assured me she would call TeNo tomorrow and get back to me.
* * *
On the 9th, at around 4 PM, I called again. The manager answered the phone. I told her my name. It seemed to mean nothing to her -- but then something clicked again. She told me she had called TeNo and they had yet to call her back.
"Maybe they're not there, because of the long weekend," she said. "I'm going to hound them."
It was Thursday. Monday was a holiday. Why would TeNo be off on a Thursday, for the long weekend? And aren't they in Germany? Was she talking to some distributor in Ottawa?
I swore to myself then that I would call Magpie every single day until I got my ring. Every single day, without exception.
* * *
At around 11 AM, October 14th, my cell phone rang. Magpie Jewellery was calling me. They said that they got hold of TeNo and the ring was being shipped out today. The ring should be in by the end of the week.
"Great!" I said. But in my heart of hearts, I thought, I'll believe it when I see the ring, in person, and it turns out to be the right one.
* * *
Friday, October 17th, I got another a phone call. The ring was ready for pick up. As soon as my work day was over, I rushed over to the Rideau Centre. It was the right ring.
"And we overcharged you," the manager told me, "by fifty dollars."
"I really don't think so," I said. "But I won't question it."
"I won't question it either," she said.
I gave her my credit card, and they gave me a refund of $51.98. Maybe TeNo gave them a discount because of all the screw ups and they passed the discount on to me. I don't really know.
She apologized once more for all the confusion and heart ache. I thanked her for her help.
I've now got my ring, and I'm wearing it as I type these words.
* * *
So what have I learned? I'm not entirely sure. I probably won't buy anything from Magpie again. Looking at the TeNo website, I see I can order things from them directly. "Usually ships the same business day," their site promises. What do I need Magpie for?
On a more symbolic level, I feel like I've earned my ring. If you let your mind get literary or dream-like, even the most mundane actions can take on a mystical feel. A trip to the corner store for a bag of chips is a mystical quest full of danger and hardship.
Strangely, I feel like my dream of breaking into the temple of women has come true. I've escaped the magpie women, and I have my ring.
Hmm. It doesn't really seem to do anything magical.
[A link to this story has been sent to the people at Magpie.]
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Some Parties Party, Some Parties Don't
Election Night, October 14th, 2008
I decided to hit the big four election results parties. After calling around and studying a map, I wrote up an itinerary for myself.
Crashing the Green party -- Maxwell's, on Elgin. Roughly 9 to 9:15. Drink a beer.
Crashing the Tories party -- 330 Gilmour at O'Connor. Roughly 9:20 to 9:35. Being held at McGarry's HQ. Probably no beer.
Crashing the Liberals party -- 150 Albert at O'Connor, Sheraton Hotel. 9:45 to 10:05. Maybe a hotel bar.
Crashing the NDP party -- Sala San Marco, 215 Preston, 10:20 to closing. A bar for sure.
To be honest, I can't really call it "crashing". All of these parties are entirely open to the public. If these things were even remotely exclusive, no one would show up.
* * *
The Greens were upstairs at Maxwell's. It was an intimate bar setting, decorated with green streamers and star stickers with the names of environmentally-friendly businesses on them. Where the other parties decorated their rooms with glossy posters of their leader and their candidate, the Greens had a poster on the wall drawn by kids somehow related to Jen Hunter. Nieces, I think she said.
Leah, Jen Hunter's assistant, spotted me and rushed over. "I love your blog," she said, and handed me a ticket good for one free beer. Then she drew a green X on my hand with a marker. Not sure what that was about.
We chatted for a bit. I was hypnotized by her praise and the freckles on her arms, so I didn't always hear what Leah said. But clearly she had a lot of insider info. If I were a better journalist, I would have spent the entire evening grilling her for war stories.
But I dragged one interesting story out of her. Okay, she freely volunteered it. We were counting off the debates Brian McGarry had attended -- the Glebe, Westboro, the Ottawa Citizen editorial debate. And then Leah mentioned one more -- the Adult High School debate. According to Leah's chart she had posted on the wall, there had been thirteen debates in total. Brian had attended four. Pretty awful.
Leah told me the organizer of the Adult High School debate insisted all four candidates be present. He sent out many emails, trying to book a time suitable for all. Certain parties just would not commit. Finally the organizer snapped and wrote an email that said, look, I'm doing you guys a favour, getting you access to a thousand voters, some of them voting for the first time. Can we not schedule a time where everyone can make it?
Leah wrote, "We're in!" She'd said that for every time suggested.
The organizer wrote back, I know, I know. You guys aren't making the trouble.
Leah implied that McGarry was the one not willing to commit to a debate. Clearly Brian is a man who knows his weaknesses (actually expressing his ideas with words) and his strengths (his hair).
It was only nine, the polls were closing in ten minutes, and Jen Hunter was already at the party, hobnobbing with the few supporters present. This is kind of unusual. The other three parties I hit up, the candidates were nowhere to be seen -- until, presumably, the very end, when they appear, give a speech, hang out for a bit, and then magically disappear. Jen is obviously much more human.
She came over to say hi, and went to clink her drink against mine -- then stopped herself. She said, it's bad luck to toast where one person has an alcoholic drink and one doesn't.
Jen turned to the bar to order a real drink. Soon, she was embroiled in a political discussion with the bartender.
It's impossible walking down the street with her, Leah confided to me. She has to stop and talk to every single person about politics.
Eventually Jen was back. I told her about my plan to hit up all the parties in one evening.
"You're ending the evening at Paul Dewar's party," she guessed.
"Yes," I admitted.
Jen laughed, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. You should stick around here, she suggested, so you can see my victory speech.
"You're still holding on to that victory thing?" I asked.
Jen laughed again. She has a very distinctive laugh, and a deep, husky voice. I've heard people compare her voice to a feminine Rod Stewart.
A few minutes later, I saw Jen at a table, being interviewed by three extremely earnest university students. Goddamn those youngsters. They've infested this election like bedbugs. Jen smiled and winked at me as I stood by, listening. I mouthed the words, "Run, Jen, Run!" But she seemed quite happy to be in the middle of a scrum, even if it was really more of a practice scrum.
One of the "journalists" held up a finger to a fellow journalist, indicating he wanted a turn to speak, and said gleefully, "Oh wait! I thought of a good question!"
There were three digital recorders on the table. Often, in the middle of one of Jen's answers, a student would pick up the recorder, making sure it was still taping, ignoring Jen's words. It was as if they were thinking, I'll listen more closely to her answer when I get home.
I wanted to say goodbye to Jen, but the reporter-wanna-bes had a stranglehold on her. So I just left. After all, I had a schedule to keep.
The Green Kids Poster.
Jen and Leah.
Jen surrounded by kid journalists.
There is a building on Gilmour that is obviously the Brian McGarry headquarters. You can tell, because it's the only building in the entire city with lots of Brian McGarry signs.
When I stepped inside, it was like entering a marble mausoleum. It was quiet, gloomy, and spacious. In the lobby, prominently on display, was a photograph of Brian and Stephen Harper standing together. It looked fake. The two men were standing quite some distance apart, so it could have been photoshopped. Also, Harper looked like he had tons of make-up on.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out where to go. To my right, was a room with a few campaigners, chatting. There were stairs going up. A hallway stretched out to my left. The place was enormous and maze like. It made the Paul Dewar headquarters look like a closet.
A young guy in a suit jacket came by. Though he had no insignia on him at all, I could immediately tell he was a Conservative. He had no soul.
"I hear there's a party in here, somewhere," I said.
"It's upstairs," he told me. "Hang on and I'll give you an escort."
He wandered off to perform some task. I stood around just long enough to consider sneaking up the stairs alone. But then he returned and led the way.
In the distance I heard someone make reference to "the war room" in the building. And that made me understand exactly where I was -- the secret headquarters of a failed super villain. And these weren't campaign volunteers, but evil henchmen. This place felt like a fortress of solitude. Or like the kind of building where Howard Hughes would hide from society.
"What was this building, before?" I asked.
The soulless Conservative gave me a sidelong glance, and hesitated. Uh oh. Was I supposed to know that already?
"It was for the school board," he said.
We went up the stairs, and he proudly led me to a large blue room with a 12 foot high ceiling that had a fancy chandelier. Clearly he expected me to be impressed, and the room was impressive. The contents, less so.
There was a single TV. Quite close to it were rows and rows of chairs. And the Conservatives were all lined up, eagerly watching CBC give election results. They talked a little bit among themselves, but mostly it was quiet.
Back at Maxwell's, there was an obvious layout where free food would be served. The Greens would feed the masses. But here, in McGarry's secret lair, there didn't appear to be any plans for food. Worse still, there was no bar.
The Greens obviously had no budget -- their decorations looked vaguely like a high school gym party. In Tory land, the walls were adorned with photos of Stephen Harper, the word "Leadership" along the top. Again I found myself thinking that the Tories focus on their leaders in a "cult of personality" way that creeps me out.
I took a few photos, making no attempt at being discrete. The flash went off, and everyone turned and looked at me. What the hell was this guy doing? I just smiled, offering no explanation. They all turned back to their TV.
The crowd was older than the Green crowd. There were even a few seniors. When I think of the Conservatives, I think of old, frightened people. They're afraid of gay marriage, marijuana, abortion, foreigners, art, and pretty much all the things I love. (Yes -- I love abortion.) This crowd was cementing all my prejudices. So very white. So very dull.
I decided to leave. As I walked out, I could see a kitchen. The man who escorted me up was pouring a beer out in the sink.
"Is this event BYOB?" I asked.
"I decided to have a beer," he replied, "but I decided it was too early. That's why I poured it out."
I didn't understand his answer. Did he think I was accusing him of something? On the floor was a cooler and there was a case of beer. Maybe this was for when the party really got rocking. But I doubt they were expecting anyone besides a few volunteers and campaigners to show up.
"Do you want a Diet Coke?" the guy offered.
"No thanks," I said. "I'm going to leave. I just wanted to pop in, look around."
"Are you with one of the other parties?" he asked.
"Nope," I said. "Have a good night."
"You should stick around," he said. "Things are going to get interesting."
Somehow I doubted it.
The very high ceiling.
Conservatives gathered around a lone television.
Brian McGarry's empty podium.
Immediately after snapping this, everyone looked at me.
Harper and McGarry.
The Liberals were having their party at the Sheraton, near Albert and O'Connor. A bit of a walk. I jogged a little, trying to keep to my schedule. Oh the sacrifices I make. When I arrived, I found a hotel conference room with a bar tucked in the corner. There were small tables set up, decorated red and white, and people standing around, watching a single large TV. The walls were adorned with pictures of Penny Collenette and Dion.
I immediately rushed over to the bar and bought my second beer of the night. I had to get the taste of Conservative dust out of my mouth. There was a table in the corner. I sat down, putting my camera on the table, taking out my notebook. I scribbled a few notes.
Hmm. They had steam tables in the corner. Free food, yet to come -- but soon. The Liberals were slightly younger than the Conservatives, and definitely more relaxed. But the vibe of the place still felt a little stiff.
As I sat there, a blonde woman rushed over to me. "Are you with the media?" she asked eagerly.
"Sort of," I said. There was a dramatic pause. I sighed. "I'm a blogger."
"I'm asking because I'm the media liaison," she said. "Let me know if you need anything."
I briefly toyed with the idea of asking, like what? What could she give me? Free booze? Posters of Penny Collenette? Instead, I simply said, "Thanks," and she walked away.
Only later would I understand why this liaison pounced on me. At Paul Dewar's party, there were three big TV cameras set up. Journalists and student journalists were everywhere. There was a lot of media, paying attention.
At Penny Collenette's gathering, I was the only obvious media. The poor liaison was bored out of her mind. When she saw my notebook and camera, she finally thought she'd have something to do.
On TV, the early results were coming in now. The CBC announced that the Tories would definitely win. Now it was just a question of how much of a government they would have -- a small minority or a large one.
"This is a bloodbath!" I heard a younger Liberal say. Several times the people gathered booed at the TV.
I snapped a few pictures -- the flash blinding everyone -- and left.
The Liberal room.
I caught a cab outside of the Sheraton. Tonight's adventure had a budget, you see. Plus it was way too far to walk to Paul Dewar's party. The driver was listening to the election results. When I showed an interest, he turned up the volume. I'm not sure who the radio host was, but he was horrified that Quebec was voting for the Bloq. He made some kind of slur against separatists, and I giggled.
The radio said that it looked like all the former MPs in the Ottawa area were going to be re-elected. That made me laugh.
"Why even have an election if nothing is going to change?" I asked the driver.
I pulled out my cell phone and checked my email. John Akpata was supposed to show up at the Greens' gig, but he didn't materialize while I was there. I dropped him a note now.
"The Greens gave me a free beer. Make sure they give you one too."
While riding in the cab, slightly drunk, on my way to my fourth and final destination, I felt like a real reporter. Imagine having some kind of budget for booze and cab rides, instead of spending my own cash on such things. How awesome would that be?
When we pulled up outside Sala San Marco, my fare was ten bucks. I gave the driver a twenty and told him to keep the change.
"My first beer of the night was free," I said. "So you reap the rewards."
Mark, at the NDP gathering.
I got an email from a producer with the CBC last week. She'd caught wind of my blog, and wanted to talk to me. Did I know anyone struggling with their voting choices? She was working on a story from that angle. She asked me to call her -- even if I didn't know anyone in that situation. My opinions on Ottawa Centre could be interesting. So I called her.
There are four really strong candidates in your riding, she said. It should be really interesting to watch, and see who wins.
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Paul Dewar is going to win," I said. "There's absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind."
She seemed disappointed by this news. I was surprised she didn't know this already. Clearly my response didn't fit into the story she was working on.
Entering the Sala San Marco, it was clear everyone was here to see a winner. Where there'd been student media or no media at the other parties, there were three large TV cameras and three reporters with microphones. The place was packed and loud. To be fair, I'd visited the other parties early in the evening, but I can't imagine they ever got as crowded as this place.
Free food kept getting laid out on the tables. The pizza was particularly popular. A huge tray of pizza would get put down, people would leap on to the pizza, and it was gone.
At the front of the room was a podium. Every few minutes, a man would stand up there and announce the latest stats for the riding. By the third time he got up there, the A Channel had already called the riding for Paul Dewar. But we all went through the motions for some reason. The guy kept getting up there, announcing the stats. Paul Dewar's lead was always substantial.
Much like I and everyone else in the riding had expected, Dewar won.
Paul Dewar -- 25,347
Penny Collenette -- 16,634
Brian McGarry -- 15,063
Jen Hunter -- 6,348
John Akpata -- 378
Pierre Soubliere -- 93
(Stats taken from CBC's website.)
What surprises me most about these results is Jen Hunter's standing. I thought she'd come in second for sure. That she came in fourth is a sure sign people are not paying attention. The majority of voters stayed uninvolved locally, got informed by the national media, and voted for a party, not a person. How depressing is that? Penny Collenette and Brian McGarry barely show up, and they get more votes than Jen? Unbelievable.
Mind you, counting votes isn't the only way to evaluate the success of a candidate. Jen Hunter ran an awesome campaign. That has to count for something.
Paul Dewar arrived, stood at the podium with his wife and two sons, and he gave a speech. At first it was pretty dull. This was "a campaign about issues." And then Dewar listed all the big issues: poverty, housing, youth, etc. People were chatting, barely paying attention.
But then Paul mentioned his mother, Marion Dewar, who died just as the campaign started. Everyone fell silent and started listening. He told a story about how the last time he spoke with his mom, she thrust an article into his hands. It was about Martin Luther King, and it described King as a social democrat. As Paul spoke about the article and what it stood for -- everyone is equal, a society where "no one is forgotten" -- he actually started to choke up, a little. It was bizarre to see a politician being human and statesman like at the same time. Somehow, it's very NDP.
The evening ended with an odd twist. Paul said his son Jordan was turning ten in two days. There's a cake, and would everyone please sing happy birthday? A cake with sparklers came out of the kitchen and everyone in the room sang happy birthday to Jordan.
My first thought was -- perfect theatre. Excellent strategy. In the middle of his election win, Paul's turning the spotlight on his son. There's something for the journalists to talk about. There's something that makes Paul Dewar very human. Great showmanship.
But then my cynicism got tiresome. What if this was genuine? What a nice thing to do -- at the end of all this election hoopla, step to the side, and let his son have some glory. It can't be easy, having a politician for a dad. Paul was probably campaigning full time, absent from his family. So to do this now seemed like a grand gesture.
I'm trying to get elected, he seemed to be saying, but even in the midst of this crazy circus I'm thinking of you, Jordan.
But this heady, Hallmark sentiment was too much for me, and I immediately retreated to the headspace of cynical politics. Brilliant strategy, Mr Dewar. Well played.
It's definitely easier to think of these politicians as actors on a stage than genuine human beings.
Paul Dewar and family.
Paul in a scrum.
A real journalist.
A journalism team.
Pat and Michelle at the NDP party.
I decided to hit the big four election results parties. After calling around and studying a map, I wrote up an itinerary for myself.
Crashing the Green party -- Maxwell's, on Elgin. Roughly 9 to 9:15. Drink a beer.
Crashing the Tories party -- 330 Gilmour at O'Connor. Roughly 9:20 to 9:35. Being held at McGarry's HQ. Probably no beer.
Crashing the Liberals party -- 150 Albert at O'Connor, Sheraton Hotel. 9:45 to 10:05. Maybe a hotel bar.
Crashing the NDP party -- Sala San Marco, 215 Preston, 10:20 to closing. A bar for sure.
To be honest, I can't really call it "crashing". All of these parties are entirely open to the public. If these things were even remotely exclusive, no one would show up.
* * *
The Greens were upstairs at Maxwell's. It was an intimate bar setting, decorated with green streamers and star stickers with the names of environmentally-friendly businesses on them. Where the other parties decorated their rooms with glossy posters of their leader and their candidate, the Greens had a poster on the wall drawn by kids somehow related to Jen Hunter. Nieces, I think she said.
Leah, Jen Hunter's assistant, spotted me and rushed over. "I love your blog," she said, and handed me a ticket good for one free beer. Then she drew a green X on my hand with a marker. Not sure what that was about.
We chatted for a bit. I was hypnotized by her praise and the freckles on her arms, so I didn't always hear what Leah said. But clearly she had a lot of insider info. If I were a better journalist, I would have spent the entire evening grilling her for war stories.
But I dragged one interesting story out of her. Okay, she freely volunteered it. We were counting off the debates Brian McGarry had attended -- the Glebe, Westboro, the Ottawa Citizen editorial debate. And then Leah mentioned one more -- the Adult High School debate. According to Leah's chart she had posted on the wall, there had been thirteen debates in total. Brian had attended four. Pretty awful.
Leah told me the organizer of the Adult High School debate insisted all four candidates be present. He sent out many emails, trying to book a time suitable for all. Certain parties just would not commit. Finally the organizer snapped and wrote an email that said, look, I'm doing you guys a favour, getting you access to a thousand voters, some of them voting for the first time. Can we not schedule a time where everyone can make it?
Leah wrote, "We're in!" She'd said that for every time suggested.
The organizer wrote back, I know, I know. You guys aren't making the trouble.
Leah implied that McGarry was the one not willing to commit to a debate. Clearly Brian is a man who knows his weaknesses (actually expressing his ideas with words) and his strengths (his hair).
It was only nine, the polls were closing in ten minutes, and Jen Hunter was already at the party, hobnobbing with the few supporters present. This is kind of unusual. The other three parties I hit up, the candidates were nowhere to be seen -- until, presumably, the very end, when they appear, give a speech, hang out for a bit, and then magically disappear. Jen is obviously much more human.
She came over to say hi, and went to clink her drink against mine -- then stopped herself. She said, it's bad luck to toast where one person has an alcoholic drink and one doesn't.
Jen turned to the bar to order a real drink. Soon, she was embroiled in a political discussion with the bartender.
It's impossible walking down the street with her, Leah confided to me. She has to stop and talk to every single person about politics.
Eventually Jen was back. I told her about my plan to hit up all the parties in one evening.
"You're ending the evening at Paul Dewar's party," she guessed.
"Yes," I admitted.
Jen laughed, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. You should stick around here, she suggested, so you can see my victory speech.
"You're still holding on to that victory thing?" I asked.
Jen laughed again. She has a very distinctive laugh, and a deep, husky voice. I've heard people compare her voice to a feminine Rod Stewart.
A few minutes later, I saw Jen at a table, being interviewed by three extremely earnest university students. Goddamn those youngsters. They've infested this election like bedbugs. Jen smiled and winked at me as I stood by, listening. I mouthed the words, "Run, Jen, Run!" But she seemed quite happy to be in the middle of a scrum, even if it was really more of a practice scrum.
One of the "journalists" held up a finger to a fellow journalist, indicating he wanted a turn to speak, and said gleefully, "Oh wait! I thought of a good question!"
There were three digital recorders on the table. Often, in the middle of one of Jen's answers, a student would pick up the recorder, making sure it was still taping, ignoring Jen's words. It was as if they were thinking, I'll listen more closely to her answer when I get home.
I wanted to say goodbye to Jen, but the reporter-wanna-bes had a stranglehold on her. So I just left. After all, I had a schedule to keep.
The Green Kids Poster.
Jen and Leah.
Jen surrounded by kid journalists.
There is a building on Gilmour that is obviously the Brian McGarry headquarters. You can tell, because it's the only building in the entire city with lots of Brian McGarry signs.
When I stepped inside, it was like entering a marble mausoleum. It was quiet, gloomy, and spacious. In the lobby, prominently on display, was a photograph of Brian and Stephen Harper standing together. It looked fake. The two men were standing quite some distance apart, so it could have been photoshopped. Also, Harper looked like he had tons of make-up on.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out where to go. To my right, was a room with a few campaigners, chatting. There were stairs going up. A hallway stretched out to my left. The place was enormous and maze like. It made the Paul Dewar headquarters look like a closet.
A young guy in a suit jacket came by. Though he had no insignia on him at all, I could immediately tell he was a Conservative. He had no soul.
"I hear there's a party in here, somewhere," I said.
"It's upstairs," he told me. "Hang on and I'll give you an escort."
He wandered off to perform some task. I stood around just long enough to consider sneaking up the stairs alone. But then he returned and led the way.
In the distance I heard someone make reference to "the war room" in the building. And that made me understand exactly where I was -- the secret headquarters of a failed super villain. And these weren't campaign volunteers, but evil henchmen. This place felt like a fortress of solitude. Or like the kind of building where Howard Hughes would hide from society.
"What was this building, before?" I asked.
The soulless Conservative gave me a sidelong glance, and hesitated. Uh oh. Was I supposed to know that already?
"It was for the school board," he said.
We went up the stairs, and he proudly led me to a large blue room with a 12 foot high ceiling that had a fancy chandelier. Clearly he expected me to be impressed, and the room was impressive. The contents, less so.
There was a single TV. Quite close to it were rows and rows of chairs. And the Conservatives were all lined up, eagerly watching CBC give election results. They talked a little bit among themselves, but mostly it was quiet.
Back at Maxwell's, there was an obvious layout where free food would be served. The Greens would feed the masses. But here, in McGarry's secret lair, there didn't appear to be any plans for food. Worse still, there was no bar.
The Greens obviously had no budget -- their decorations looked vaguely like a high school gym party. In Tory land, the walls were adorned with photos of Stephen Harper, the word "Leadership" along the top. Again I found myself thinking that the Tories focus on their leaders in a "cult of personality" way that creeps me out.
I took a few photos, making no attempt at being discrete. The flash went off, and everyone turned and looked at me. What the hell was this guy doing? I just smiled, offering no explanation. They all turned back to their TV.
The crowd was older than the Green crowd. There were even a few seniors. When I think of the Conservatives, I think of old, frightened people. They're afraid of gay marriage, marijuana, abortion, foreigners, art, and pretty much all the things I love. (Yes -- I love abortion.) This crowd was cementing all my prejudices. So very white. So very dull.
I decided to leave. As I walked out, I could see a kitchen. The man who escorted me up was pouring a beer out in the sink.
"Is this event BYOB?" I asked.
"I decided to have a beer," he replied, "but I decided it was too early. That's why I poured it out."
I didn't understand his answer. Did he think I was accusing him of something? On the floor was a cooler and there was a case of beer. Maybe this was for when the party really got rocking. But I doubt they were expecting anyone besides a few volunteers and campaigners to show up.
"Do you want a Diet Coke?" the guy offered.
"No thanks," I said. "I'm going to leave. I just wanted to pop in, look around."
"Are you with one of the other parties?" he asked.
"Nope," I said. "Have a good night."
"You should stick around," he said. "Things are going to get interesting."
Somehow I doubted it.
The very high ceiling.
Conservatives gathered around a lone television.
Brian McGarry's empty podium.
Immediately after snapping this, everyone looked at me.
Harper and McGarry.
The Liberals were having their party at the Sheraton, near Albert and O'Connor. A bit of a walk. I jogged a little, trying to keep to my schedule. Oh the sacrifices I make. When I arrived, I found a hotel conference room with a bar tucked in the corner. There were small tables set up, decorated red and white, and people standing around, watching a single large TV. The walls were adorned with pictures of Penny Collenette and Dion.
I immediately rushed over to the bar and bought my second beer of the night. I had to get the taste of Conservative dust out of my mouth. There was a table in the corner. I sat down, putting my camera on the table, taking out my notebook. I scribbled a few notes.
Hmm. They had steam tables in the corner. Free food, yet to come -- but soon. The Liberals were slightly younger than the Conservatives, and definitely more relaxed. But the vibe of the place still felt a little stiff.
As I sat there, a blonde woman rushed over to me. "Are you with the media?" she asked eagerly.
"Sort of," I said. There was a dramatic pause. I sighed. "I'm a blogger."
"I'm asking because I'm the media liaison," she said. "Let me know if you need anything."
I briefly toyed with the idea of asking, like what? What could she give me? Free booze? Posters of Penny Collenette? Instead, I simply said, "Thanks," and she walked away.
Only later would I understand why this liaison pounced on me. At Paul Dewar's party, there were three big TV cameras set up. Journalists and student journalists were everywhere. There was a lot of media, paying attention.
At Penny Collenette's gathering, I was the only obvious media. The poor liaison was bored out of her mind. When she saw my notebook and camera, she finally thought she'd have something to do.
On TV, the early results were coming in now. The CBC announced that the Tories would definitely win. Now it was just a question of how much of a government they would have -- a small minority or a large one.
"This is a bloodbath!" I heard a younger Liberal say. Several times the people gathered booed at the TV.
I snapped a few pictures -- the flash blinding everyone -- and left.
The Liberal room.
I caught a cab outside of the Sheraton. Tonight's adventure had a budget, you see. Plus it was way too far to walk to Paul Dewar's party. The driver was listening to the election results. When I showed an interest, he turned up the volume. I'm not sure who the radio host was, but he was horrified that Quebec was voting for the Bloq. He made some kind of slur against separatists, and I giggled.
The radio said that it looked like all the former MPs in the Ottawa area were going to be re-elected. That made me laugh.
"Why even have an election if nothing is going to change?" I asked the driver.
I pulled out my cell phone and checked my email. John Akpata was supposed to show up at the Greens' gig, but he didn't materialize while I was there. I dropped him a note now.
"The Greens gave me a free beer. Make sure they give you one too."
While riding in the cab, slightly drunk, on my way to my fourth and final destination, I felt like a real reporter. Imagine having some kind of budget for booze and cab rides, instead of spending my own cash on such things. How awesome would that be?
When we pulled up outside Sala San Marco, my fare was ten bucks. I gave the driver a twenty and told him to keep the change.
"My first beer of the night was free," I said. "So you reap the rewards."
Mark, at the NDP gathering.
I got an email from a producer with the CBC last week. She'd caught wind of my blog, and wanted to talk to me. Did I know anyone struggling with their voting choices? She was working on a story from that angle. She asked me to call her -- even if I didn't know anyone in that situation. My opinions on Ottawa Centre could be interesting. So I called her.
There are four really strong candidates in your riding, she said. It should be really interesting to watch, and see who wins.
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Paul Dewar is going to win," I said. "There's absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind."
She seemed disappointed by this news. I was surprised she didn't know this already. Clearly my response didn't fit into the story she was working on.
Entering the Sala San Marco, it was clear everyone was here to see a winner. Where there'd been student media or no media at the other parties, there were three large TV cameras and three reporters with microphones. The place was packed and loud. To be fair, I'd visited the other parties early in the evening, but I can't imagine they ever got as crowded as this place.
Free food kept getting laid out on the tables. The pizza was particularly popular. A huge tray of pizza would get put down, people would leap on to the pizza, and it was gone.
At the front of the room was a podium. Every few minutes, a man would stand up there and announce the latest stats for the riding. By the third time he got up there, the A Channel had already called the riding for Paul Dewar. But we all went through the motions for some reason. The guy kept getting up there, announcing the stats. Paul Dewar's lead was always substantial.
Much like I and everyone else in the riding had expected, Dewar won.
Paul Dewar -- 25,347
Penny Collenette -- 16,634
Brian McGarry -- 15,063
Jen Hunter -- 6,348
John Akpata -- 378
Pierre Soubliere -- 93
(Stats taken from CBC's website.)
What surprises me most about these results is Jen Hunter's standing. I thought she'd come in second for sure. That she came in fourth is a sure sign people are not paying attention. The majority of voters stayed uninvolved locally, got informed by the national media, and voted for a party, not a person. How depressing is that? Penny Collenette and Brian McGarry barely show up, and they get more votes than Jen? Unbelievable.
Mind you, counting votes isn't the only way to evaluate the success of a candidate. Jen Hunter ran an awesome campaign. That has to count for something.
Paul Dewar arrived, stood at the podium with his wife and two sons, and he gave a speech. At first it was pretty dull. This was "a campaign about issues." And then Dewar listed all the big issues: poverty, housing, youth, etc. People were chatting, barely paying attention.
But then Paul mentioned his mother, Marion Dewar, who died just as the campaign started. Everyone fell silent and started listening. He told a story about how the last time he spoke with his mom, she thrust an article into his hands. It was about Martin Luther King, and it described King as a social democrat. As Paul spoke about the article and what it stood for -- everyone is equal, a society where "no one is forgotten" -- he actually started to choke up, a little. It was bizarre to see a politician being human and statesman like at the same time. Somehow, it's very NDP.
The evening ended with an odd twist. Paul said his son Jordan was turning ten in two days. There's a cake, and would everyone please sing happy birthday? A cake with sparklers came out of the kitchen and everyone in the room sang happy birthday to Jordan.
My first thought was -- perfect theatre. Excellent strategy. In the middle of his election win, Paul's turning the spotlight on his son. There's something for the journalists to talk about. There's something that makes Paul Dewar very human. Great showmanship.
But then my cynicism got tiresome. What if this was genuine? What a nice thing to do -- at the end of all this election hoopla, step to the side, and let his son have some glory. It can't be easy, having a politician for a dad. Paul was probably campaigning full time, absent from his family. So to do this now seemed like a grand gesture.
I'm trying to get elected, he seemed to be saying, but even in the midst of this crazy circus I'm thinking of you, Jordan.
But this heady, Hallmark sentiment was too much for me, and I immediately retreated to the headspace of cynical politics. Brilliant strategy, Mr Dewar. Well played.
It's definitely easier to think of these politicians as actors on a stage than genuine human beings.
Paul Dewar and family.
Paul in a scrum.
A real journalist.
A journalism team.
Pat and Michelle at the NDP party.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sarah Palin Has One, But She Isn't One
A supposedly open-minded friend of mine sent me a picture of Sarah Palin. It shows her as a young woman in a dorm room, wearing a T-shirt that reads, "I may be broke but, I'm not flat busted." She looks like any other young woman off at university.
My friend's comment accompanying the photo: "This was taken back when she had a cunt, instead of now, when she is a cunt."
Another friend sent me a picture of a man wearing a t-shirt that simply reads, "Sarah Palin is a cunt". If you do a search online, you'll find several places selling these shirts.
(In fact, if you search google for the phrase "Sarah Palin is a cunt" (in quotes) you will get back over 10,000 hits.)
These two friends -- both male -- would be horrified and disgusted by someone calling Barak Obama a "nigger". And yet they gleefully call Palin a "cunt". I fail to see any real difference.
The word "nigger" reduces Obama to less than human. He is just this negative term for a black man. It ignores everything else about him as a human being. Calling Palin a "cunt" does the same thing. It reduces her to just the negative term for a woman.
There are plenty of valid reasons for hating Sarah Palin -- she is a complete moron; she doesn't believe in evolution; she considered banning books when mayor; she knows absolutely nothing about everything important. I hate her. The idea of her being in a real position of power frightens me.
But it's not her cunt that makes her dangerous. Plenty of people have cunts -- 51% of the population of our planet. Cunts should not be such a big deal.
But they are. North American culture is completely obsessed with sex and female nudity. Given all the cunt on the Internet, you'd think "cunt" would be the highest form of praise possible.
"Dave, I have to tell you this -- you sir, are a fucking cunt."
"Bill! That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!"
Because a cunt that fucks is a cunt that gives and receives pleasure. Everyone should be delighted with a cunt that puts out. Wouldn't you feel complimented if someone compared you to a sex organ engaged in a sexual act? I can only think of one way you could make it even better:
"And Dave, I have to say -- you are a fucking orgasmic cunt."
That's why I don't think it's correct to say that Sarah Palin is a cunt. I have too much respect for cunts to say that. Let's be clear with our language -- even with our obscenities. Sarah Palin is not a cunt.
She's the green shit you find in a baby's diaper.
My friend's comment accompanying the photo: "This was taken back when she had a cunt, instead of now, when she is a cunt."
Another friend sent me a picture of a man wearing a t-shirt that simply reads, "Sarah Palin is a cunt". If you do a search online, you'll find several places selling these shirts.
(In fact, if you search google for the phrase "Sarah Palin is a cunt" (in quotes) you will get back over 10,000 hits.)
These two friends -- both male -- would be horrified and disgusted by someone calling Barak Obama a "nigger". And yet they gleefully call Palin a "cunt". I fail to see any real difference.
The word "nigger" reduces Obama to less than human. He is just this negative term for a black man. It ignores everything else about him as a human being. Calling Palin a "cunt" does the same thing. It reduces her to just the negative term for a woman.
There are plenty of valid reasons for hating Sarah Palin -- she is a complete moron; she doesn't believe in evolution; she considered banning books when mayor; she knows absolutely nothing about everything important. I hate her. The idea of her being in a real position of power frightens me.
But it's not her cunt that makes her dangerous. Plenty of people have cunts -- 51% of the population of our planet. Cunts should not be such a big deal.
But they are. North American culture is completely obsessed with sex and female nudity. Given all the cunt on the Internet, you'd think "cunt" would be the highest form of praise possible.
"Dave, I have to tell you this -- you sir, are a fucking cunt."
"Bill! That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!"
Because a cunt that fucks is a cunt that gives and receives pleasure. Everyone should be delighted with a cunt that puts out. Wouldn't you feel complimented if someone compared you to a sex organ engaged in a sexual act? I can only think of one way you could make it even better:
"And Dave, I have to say -- you are a fucking orgasmic cunt."
That's why I don't think it's correct to say that Sarah Palin is a cunt. I have too much respect for cunts to say that. Let's be clear with our language -- even with our obscenities. Sarah Palin is not a cunt.
She's the green shit you find in a baby's diaper.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Celebrate Life! Or Not.
All Candidates Meeting, Glebe Highschool, October 9th, 2008
I have gone to many debates like this one. In fact, this is number SEVEN for me.
Brian McGarry has been present at TWO out of SEVEN.
Penny Colenette has been present at FOUR out of SEVEN.
Paul Dewar and Jen Hunter have been to SEVEN out of the SEVEN debates.
The debate at Carleton Heights was cancelled -- due to lack of candidates. Brian and Penny wouldn't go.
There were two debates where only Paul and Jen showed up.
This is a disturbing trend. I'd like to ask Brian McGarry and Penny Colenette: What is going on? Why aren't you attending debates? And why should we take you seriously if you're not participating?
* * *
That's the question I wanted to ask at the Glebe debates. Of course, I could only ask this question if Penny and Brian bothered to show up.
The one debate Brian attended was in Westboro -- an enclave of mostly white, mostly middle class, mostly heterosexual people. That's the kind of audience a Conservative candidate needs. Brian won't talk to gays, unions, the Chinese, or any of those other weird people -- but give him a crowd of "normals" and Brian has to be there.
The Glebe is just like Westboro, only richer. I was pretty sure Brian would be there.
But I was leaving nothing to chance, which is why I called his campaign headquarters to make sure Brian would be in the Glebe debates.
The young woman that answered said, yes, Brian was going to attend. But she would ask the campaign manager to confirm. Would I please hold?
A minute later, she was back on the line. Yes, they are “hopeful that everything will work out” and he will attend. Not exactly a confirmation carved in stone.
When I arrived at the Glebe High School auditorium, I went to the bathroom. There was a large graffiti mess on the wall above the urinals. Someone had written, in large block letters, "Vote Conservative".
I couldn't resist -- beneath it I wrote, "if you hate freedom".
(Yes, I am 38 years old, and I am still scrawling insults on bathroom walls. Blog, bathroom wall, same thing.)
A row of debate watchers at the Glebe High School.
I was pleased to see all six candidates were there -- the four big party candidates, plus Pierre Soubliere (Marxist Leninist) and John Akpata (Marijuana Party). That meant every candidate running in the riding would have a chance to speak their mind. I could address my question to everyone.
But what I had not counted on was the moderator -- instead of having people stand up at a microphone and ask questions, she had us write our questions down on pieces of paper. Students circulated in the hall, collecting our scraps. The moderator then flipped through them, pulling out the ones she liked. So while politicians were speaking, she skimmed through "over 75 questions".
I dropped my print out of my question in a passing box, and immediately regretted it. My question was long, wordy, and meant to be read by me. It was specifically written with a vision of a person standing at a microphone, delivering it with force. Theatre! Drama! Politics!
My question never got read.
The moderator.
There were several other downsides to this format.
There's a slightly flatter voice an announcer uses, to indicate they are reading someone else's words, instead of their own. Try listening to that for an hour and a half. The moderator droned on and on in that voice. I noticed throughout the night people getting up and leaving. Even when the questions were pointed and interesting, that tone made everything seem dull.
Then there was the anonymity of the questions. This caused two problems.
1. Not being able to see and hear the speaker, there was no way to check for bias. Is it a Conservative stooge asking the question? Some NDP volunteer? A Liberal hack? John Akpata's grandmother?
2. The moderator joked that she wasn't going to bother reading the questions that were submitted multiple times, all in the same hand-writing. Some people had poorly tried to stack the deck. Perhaps there were some who stacked it with skill.
So the format was boring. And the answers were all too familiar to me by now. This was the last big debate, and we were touching all the old familiar bases.
Paul Dewar had a graph, and apologized for it by saying he was a teacher. The graph showed the NDP weren't raising corporate taxes, but returning them to sane levels, where they had been for years.
Jen Hunter talked about being a facilitator and the "climate of fear" created by other political parties. She mentioned Vision Green, and the six core values.
Penny Colenette... I just can't stand listening to her for some reason. Ever since the housing co-op meeting, she annoys me.
Brian McGarry.
The breath of fresh air was Brian McGarry. By which I mean the breath of creepy, stale air. I joked with Michelle that I would love to see Brian talk non-stop for an hour, because he would fill the time with complete insanity. Brian is a terrible public speaker. Here are the highlights of Brian:
A student asked a question about improving transit for students. Each candidate got a chance to respond.
Brian gave a long rambling speech where he tried to get chummy with us common folk. He goes down to Buffalo regularly to see hockey games. He's noticed there are free buses in Buffalo. Maybe we could do that too. He didn't really know. And that was the end of his answer.
When a question was asked about the various levels of government squabbling, making it impossible for Ottawans to get anything done, Brian said MPs "can't be adversarial" and "must be inclusive". This was bizarre, coming from the man who keeps reminding us the Conservatives have only had two years in power. If something is broken, he says, the Liberals did it.
One question, specifically addressed to Brian was about how the neoliberals will help the poor people and the environment. It was clear that both Brian and the moderator had no idea what the term neoliberal means. I found this strange, because I know what it means, and I'm not exactly well read when it comes to politics.
Brian's response, "I don't think I can answer in any intelligent manner." And then he put down the microphone. The audience laughed.
But the moderator apologized, saying she couldn't quite make sense of the question either. They both seemed to think that "neoliberal" has something to do with the Liberal party, which it does not.
Why does the Harper government have no respect for the public service? This question alluded to the muzzling of public servants. They've been told not to speak about the election at all.
Brian's response was to say, "I know the Harpers very well" and that they respect public servants and the work they do. He ended his comments by saying maybe people were "reading the Globe and Mail too much."
The audience booed him, and Brian looked confused. Why couldn't people understand? It may appear Harper does terrible things, but Brian has met Harper. They socialize together. Stephen is a great guy. Why doesn't that convince people that the specific terrible thing Harper did is perfectly okay?
One question was specifically put to Brian and Penny. How did they feel about abortion?
Jen Hunter and Penny Colenette.
Penny said that she strongly believes in a woman's right to choose. She said as much while canvassing, and a woman asked her, "Don't you think life is sacred?" Penny's answer was, "I'm a mother. And a grandmother. And I still believe in a woman's right to choose."
I've heard her deliver this cryptic response before. It's a crowd pleaser, even though it's vague. The implication seems to be, of course life is sacred, but each woman has to choose her own fate.
Brian tried to answer, and it was clear he pretty much wanted to agree with Penny, but without saying he agreed with her. So he said that we should "celebrate life... in most cases."
This caused the audience to laugh, and Brian got confused and said something like "don't force a woman to endure a pregnancy". He sounded like he wanted to talk about rape and other times when he felt a woman should be allowed to abort, but he was very hesitant to go down that road, so his words fell all over each other, and then he stopped talking.
A question was asked about why the Conservative government is so secret. Candidates have been told not to attend debates, and to keep their mouths shut. They've pretty much gagged the public service. What is going on?
Brian responded by boasting that no one could ever gag him and that he always tells it straight. And that was all he said. He ignored the rest of the question.
Tough economic times appear to be ahead. If you have to cut something, what will you cut?
After several other candidates had spoken, it was Brian's turn. He excitedly answered, "I know what you want me to say. Cut the arts! No way!" The McGarrys have always supported the arts in Ottawa, he claimed.
His defensiveness was very odd. No one had said anything about the arts, up to that point. Plus the answer implied we were all out to get him.
There was a question about proportional representation. Brian said he was in favour of it, but that we needed to respect rural areas as well as cities. He joked that "we don't want Toronto governing the whole damn country."
(Brian really likes this Toronto line, and delivers it whenever he can.)
The audience laughed, momentarily with him, and you could immediately see that Brian was pleased with himself. But strangely, he seemed to think it was the word "damn" that swayed people. He quickly delivered another line, repeating the word "damn". The audience failed to react, and Brian looked confused. I guess he thought it was the passion of the swearing that held us all together for that one moment.
If Mr Howell and Gilligan of "Gillgan's Island" had their DNA mixed together, the result would be Brian McGarry. He even sort of looks and acts like Mr Howell, with a head swagger and pompous attitude. His hair looks like it was once a 1950s pompadour that has aged poorly.
Then there's his mind. Something about Brian's perspective is skewed. I can easily imagine the following conversation taking place, which I think exemplifies his communication problems.
Skeptic: I don't believe in UFOs. Do you?
Brian: I saw a UFO. I went inside and met the aliens. They are very nice.
Skeptic, laughing: Uh, okay. Do you have any proof?
Brian, slightly irked: Did you not hear what I said? I saw a UFO. I met the aliens. They are very nice.
It might be that Ottawa Centre is so left-leaning that most of us simply fail to understand Brian's perspective. He almost appears alien. But that doesn't quite capture it. Brian believes in authority -- his own authority, and Harper's authority. He constantly appeals to that authority, and is stunned when we don't automatically agree with him. I keep feeling this need to explain to Brian -- you don't automatically get respect. You have to earn it. When you act like we simply must respect you, we laugh at you.
The moderator, perhaps sensing we were restless, decided to throw some levity into the evening. She read off a few light and fluffy questions, emphasizing that they came from the audience, and not her.
"If you could be an animal, what animal would you be?" The moderator asked for a one word answer, but most of the candidates couldn't help themselves and said more.
Paul struggled for an answer, and then said, he guessed he would be a dog, because his family just got a really great dog.
John Akpata said he would be a hawk, because they fly higher than eagles. His response revealed his poetic nature.
Brian said he would be a bichon frise because his family owns one and it gets treated very well.
Pierre the Marxist said his astrological sign is that of the fish, so he guessed he'd be a fish.
Jen followed the moderator's instructions and said, "A dolphin."
Penny Colenette, who is a slightly older woman, thought for a bit, and then said she would be, "a cougar."
The audience roared with laughter. It was hard to tell if Penny had deliberately delivered that line as a sexual double-entendre, or if she'd simply misspoken. I suspect she'd misspoken.
John Akpata.
John Akpata was in good form last night too. During his opening comments, he said that the Marijuana Party has been pushing pot into the limelight of every election. And now three of the big four parties support decriminalization or legalization. John then threw his arm around Brian McGarry and said, "and after a short conversation with my Conservative friend I'm sure he'll see the light."
The crowd laughed.
The Marijuana Party may be about one issue -- John Akpata is not. The Conservatives have pushed for judges being able to sentence kids as young as 14 as adults. John talked about crime prevention, giving kids somewhere to go besides the mall, and joked about legalizing skateboarding and spray painting. Give kids somewhere to paint and skate, and they'll go there.
You want more youth interested in politics? That's what John is about. He joked that he uses the pot issue as "bait". Once they're drawn in about pot, he gets them interested in politics.
On the same topic, Jen Hunter said voting "is actually pretty sexy."
John said that the Marijuana Party always brings pot up at elections, reminding the politicians about it, forcing them to discuss it. Wouldn't it be great if someone did the same thing with human rights?
As always, John raised the bar of the debate, forcing the other candidates to be more life-like.
Paul Dewar, before the debates began.
Some of the questions asked were very stupid. I've noticed that people lack imagination. When formulating a question, you need to imagine what answer you'll get. If the answer is obvious, change the question. For example, "Does your party support the rights of women?" Someone wrote down that question. Who knows if the questioner intended it to be a yes or no question, but that's how the moderator framed it. Who is going to say "no" to that?
Were you interested in politics when you were young? "Don't lie," the questioner insisted. Everyone said yes, of course.
If someone stood up and said, "I like pie. Would each of you promise to give me pie if you get elected?" what would the candidates say?
"Why of course I would give you pie. I myself love pie -- blueberry, raspberry, strawberry."
If you can guess the answer, assume that's the answer you'll get.
Pierre Soubliere.
The wrap up speeches were a little less pointed and a little more flowery. This was the last debate of the election. People thanked people and said how great it was to run against them. Then it was Pierre Soubliere's turn. The Marxist-Leninist mentioned this was only the second debate he'd been invited to. This isn't democracy, he pointed out. You don't get to hear all the voices. You're not hearing all of the debate. Don't pretend anyone can run for office and have their voice heard.
And he's right, of course. But it's even stranger than that -- some of the big party candidates just did not participate. And don't think I'm the only one who noticed. In an email Jen Hunter sent out to her supporters, she wrote:
"Mr. McGarry is barely campaigning and is not even showing up for public debates."
At the two debates, where it was just Jen and Paul, they both mentioned how disgraceful it was that the Liberals and Conservatives failed to appear.
But when Paul and Jen are sitting in a debate next to these people, they can't call them on it. You can only refer to Brian as "the elephant not in the room", as Penny did, when Brian isn't in the room. Somehow, mocking him for his absences when he is in the room -- it's bad form. Unsportsman-like. Perhaps even un-Canadian?
"Why didn't you show up at the Chinese community centre debate, Brian?"
In part you don't ask, because then Brian will talk about his ailing wife, and you look like the bad guy. But really, if your wife is sick and you can't run a real campaign, maybe you shouldn't be running at all.
Penny Colenette got the final word and I found myself choking on bile. She was espousing the very opposite of what I was thinking.
"Politics can be decent," she said. People can be "polite". She speculated that this was the "Canadian way".
I'm afraid she's half right -- Canadian debate is too polite, too decent. When someone behaves poorly, they need to be called out on it. Penny and Brian barely ran for office. I didn't get to ask them about it, and no one else asked about it. Instead, it was only hinted at in passing, never discussed openly. Everyone avoided conflict. No one wants to look like they're taking a swing at somebody else.
Penny Colenette and Brian McGarry were treated as real candidates, instead of people who avoid debates and public gatherings. That's not Canadian. That's cowardly.
Figures above the stage where the debate took place.
I have gone to many debates like this one. In fact, this is number SEVEN for me.
Brian McGarry has been present at TWO out of SEVEN.
Penny Colenette has been present at FOUR out of SEVEN.
Paul Dewar and Jen Hunter have been to SEVEN out of the SEVEN debates.
The debate at Carleton Heights was cancelled -- due to lack of candidates. Brian and Penny wouldn't go.
There were two debates where only Paul and Jen showed up.
This is a disturbing trend. I'd like to ask Brian McGarry and Penny Colenette: What is going on? Why aren't you attending debates? And why should we take you seriously if you're not participating?
* * *
That's the question I wanted to ask at the Glebe debates. Of course, I could only ask this question if Penny and Brian bothered to show up.
The one debate Brian attended was in Westboro -- an enclave of mostly white, mostly middle class, mostly heterosexual people. That's the kind of audience a Conservative candidate needs. Brian won't talk to gays, unions, the Chinese, or any of those other weird people -- but give him a crowd of "normals" and Brian has to be there.
The Glebe is just like Westboro, only richer. I was pretty sure Brian would be there.
But I was leaving nothing to chance, which is why I called his campaign headquarters to make sure Brian would be in the Glebe debates.
The young woman that answered said, yes, Brian was going to attend. But she would ask the campaign manager to confirm. Would I please hold?
A minute later, she was back on the line. Yes, they are “hopeful that everything will work out” and he will attend. Not exactly a confirmation carved in stone.
When I arrived at the Glebe High School auditorium, I went to the bathroom. There was a large graffiti mess on the wall above the urinals. Someone had written, in large block letters, "Vote Conservative".
I couldn't resist -- beneath it I wrote, "if you hate freedom".
(Yes, I am 38 years old, and I am still scrawling insults on bathroom walls. Blog, bathroom wall, same thing.)
A row of debate watchers at the Glebe High School.
I was pleased to see all six candidates were there -- the four big party candidates, plus Pierre Soubliere (Marxist Leninist) and John Akpata (Marijuana Party). That meant every candidate running in the riding would have a chance to speak their mind. I could address my question to everyone.
But what I had not counted on was the moderator -- instead of having people stand up at a microphone and ask questions, she had us write our questions down on pieces of paper. Students circulated in the hall, collecting our scraps. The moderator then flipped through them, pulling out the ones she liked. So while politicians were speaking, she skimmed through "over 75 questions".
I dropped my print out of my question in a passing box, and immediately regretted it. My question was long, wordy, and meant to be read by me. It was specifically written with a vision of a person standing at a microphone, delivering it with force. Theatre! Drama! Politics!
My question never got read.
The moderator.
There were several other downsides to this format.
There's a slightly flatter voice an announcer uses, to indicate they are reading someone else's words, instead of their own. Try listening to that for an hour and a half. The moderator droned on and on in that voice. I noticed throughout the night people getting up and leaving. Even when the questions were pointed and interesting, that tone made everything seem dull.
Then there was the anonymity of the questions. This caused two problems.
1. Not being able to see and hear the speaker, there was no way to check for bias. Is it a Conservative stooge asking the question? Some NDP volunteer? A Liberal hack? John Akpata's grandmother?
2. The moderator joked that she wasn't going to bother reading the questions that were submitted multiple times, all in the same hand-writing. Some people had poorly tried to stack the deck. Perhaps there were some who stacked it with skill.
So the format was boring. And the answers were all too familiar to me by now. This was the last big debate, and we were touching all the old familiar bases.
Paul Dewar had a graph, and apologized for it by saying he was a teacher. The graph showed the NDP weren't raising corporate taxes, but returning them to sane levels, where they had been for years.
Jen Hunter talked about being a facilitator and the "climate of fear" created by other political parties. She mentioned Vision Green, and the six core values.
Penny Colenette... I just can't stand listening to her for some reason. Ever since the housing co-op meeting, she annoys me.
Brian McGarry.
The breath of fresh air was Brian McGarry. By which I mean the breath of creepy, stale air. I joked with Michelle that I would love to see Brian talk non-stop for an hour, because he would fill the time with complete insanity. Brian is a terrible public speaker. Here are the highlights of Brian:
A student asked a question about improving transit for students. Each candidate got a chance to respond.
Brian gave a long rambling speech where he tried to get chummy with us common folk. He goes down to Buffalo regularly to see hockey games. He's noticed there are free buses in Buffalo. Maybe we could do that too. He didn't really know. And that was the end of his answer.
When a question was asked about the various levels of government squabbling, making it impossible for Ottawans to get anything done, Brian said MPs "can't be adversarial" and "must be inclusive". This was bizarre, coming from the man who keeps reminding us the Conservatives have only had two years in power. If something is broken, he says, the Liberals did it.
One question, specifically addressed to Brian was about how the neoliberals will help the poor people and the environment. It was clear that both Brian and the moderator had no idea what the term neoliberal means. I found this strange, because I know what it means, and I'm not exactly well read when it comes to politics.
Brian's response, "I don't think I can answer in any intelligent manner." And then he put down the microphone. The audience laughed.
But the moderator apologized, saying she couldn't quite make sense of the question either. They both seemed to think that "neoliberal" has something to do with the Liberal party, which it does not.
Why does the Harper government have no respect for the public service? This question alluded to the muzzling of public servants. They've been told not to speak about the election at all.
Brian's response was to say, "I know the Harpers very well" and that they respect public servants and the work they do. He ended his comments by saying maybe people were "reading the Globe and Mail too much."
The audience booed him, and Brian looked confused. Why couldn't people understand? It may appear Harper does terrible things, but Brian has met Harper. They socialize together. Stephen is a great guy. Why doesn't that convince people that the specific terrible thing Harper did is perfectly okay?
One question was specifically put to Brian and Penny. How did they feel about abortion?
Jen Hunter and Penny Colenette.
Penny said that she strongly believes in a woman's right to choose. She said as much while canvassing, and a woman asked her, "Don't you think life is sacred?" Penny's answer was, "I'm a mother. And a grandmother. And I still believe in a woman's right to choose."
I've heard her deliver this cryptic response before. It's a crowd pleaser, even though it's vague. The implication seems to be, of course life is sacred, but each woman has to choose her own fate.
Brian tried to answer, and it was clear he pretty much wanted to agree with Penny, but without saying he agreed with her. So he said that we should "celebrate life... in most cases."
This caused the audience to laugh, and Brian got confused and said something like "don't force a woman to endure a pregnancy". He sounded like he wanted to talk about rape and other times when he felt a woman should be allowed to abort, but he was very hesitant to go down that road, so his words fell all over each other, and then he stopped talking.
A question was asked about why the Conservative government is so secret. Candidates have been told not to attend debates, and to keep their mouths shut. They've pretty much gagged the public service. What is going on?
Brian responded by boasting that no one could ever gag him and that he always tells it straight. And that was all he said. He ignored the rest of the question.
Tough economic times appear to be ahead. If you have to cut something, what will you cut?
After several other candidates had spoken, it was Brian's turn. He excitedly answered, "I know what you want me to say. Cut the arts! No way!" The McGarrys have always supported the arts in Ottawa, he claimed.
His defensiveness was very odd. No one had said anything about the arts, up to that point. Plus the answer implied we were all out to get him.
There was a question about proportional representation. Brian said he was in favour of it, but that we needed to respect rural areas as well as cities. He joked that "we don't want Toronto governing the whole damn country."
(Brian really likes this Toronto line, and delivers it whenever he can.)
The audience laughed, momentarily with him, and you could immediately see that Brian was pleased with himself. But strangely, he seemed to think it was the word "damn" that swayed people. He quickly delivered another line, repeating the word "damn". The audience failed to react, and Brian looked confused. I guess he thought it was the passion of the swearing that held us all together for that one moment.
If Mr Howell and Gilligan of "Gillgan's Island" had their DNA mixed together, the result would be Brian McGarry. He even sort of looks and acts like Mr Howell, with a head swagger and pompous attitude. His hair looks like it was once a 1950s pompadour that has aged poorly.
Then there's his mind. Something about Brian's perspective is skewed. I can easily imagine the following conversation taking place, which I think exemplifies his communication problems.
Skeptic: I don't believe in UFOs. Do you?
Brian: I saw a UFO. I went inside and met the aliens. They are very nice.
Skeptic, laughing: Uh, okay. Do you have any proof?
Brian, slightly irked: Did you not hear what I said? I saw a UFO. I met the aliens. They are very nice.
It might be that Ottawa Centre is so left-leaning that most of us simply fail to understand Brian's perspective. He almost appears alien. But that doesn't quite capture it. Brian believes in authority -- his own authority, and Harper's authority. He constantly appeals to that authority, and is stunned when we don't automatically agree with him. I keep feeling this need to explain to Brian -- you don't automatically get respect. You have to earn it. When you act like we simply must respect you, we laugh at you.
The moderator, perhaps sensing we were restless, decided to throw some levity into the evening. She read off a few light and fluffy questions, emphasizing that they came from the audience, and not her.
"If you could be an animal, what animal would you be?" The moderator asked for a one word answer, but most of the candidates couldn't help themselves and said more.
Paul struggled for an answer, and then said, he guessed he would be a dog, because his family just got a really great dog.
John Akpata said he would be a hawk, because they fly higher than eagles. His response revealed his poetic nature.
Brian said he would be a bichon frise because his family owns one and it gets treated very well.
Pierre the Marxist said his astrological sign is that of the fish, so he guessed he'd be a fish.
Jen followed the moderator's instructions and said, "A dolphin."
Penny Colenette, who is a slightly older woman, thought for a bit, and then said she would be, "a cougar."
The audience roared with laughter. It was hard to tell if Penny had deliberately delivered that line as a sexual double-entendre, or if she'd simply misspoken. I suspect she'd misspoken.
John Akpata.
John Akpata was in good form last night too. During his opening comments, he said that the Marijuana Party has been pushing pot into the limelight of every election. And now three of the big four parties support decriminalization or legalization. John then threw his arm around Brian McGarry and said, "and after a short conversation with my Conservative friend I'm sure he'll see the light."
The crowd laughed.
The Marijuana Party may be about one issue -- John Akpata is not. The Conservatives have pushed for judges being able to sentence kids as young as 14 as adults. John talked about crime prevention, giving kids somewhere to go besides the mall, and joked about legalizing skateboarding and spray painting. Give kids somewhere to paint and skate, and they'll go there.
You want more youth interested in politics? That's what John is about. He joked that he uses the pot issue as "bait". Once they're drawn in about pot, he gets them interested in politics.
On the same topic, Jen Hunter said voting "is actually pretty sexy."
John said that the Marijuana Party always brings pot up at elections, reminding the politicians about it, forcing them to discuss it. Wouldn't it be great if someone did the same thing with human rights?
As always, John raised the bar of the debate, forcing the other candidates to be more life-like.
Paul Dewar, before the debates began.
Some of the questions asked were very stupid. I've noticed that people lack imagination. When formulating a question, you need to imagine what answer you'll get. If the answer is obvious, change the question. For example, "Does your party support the rights of women?" Someone wrote down that question. Who knows if the questioner intended it to be a yes or no question, but that's how the moderator framed it. Who is going to say "no" to that?
Were you interested in politics when you were young? "Don't lie," the questioner insisted. Everyone said yes, of course.
If someone stood up and said, "I like pie. Would each of you promise to give me pie if you get elected?" what would the candidates say?
"Why of course I would give you pie. I myself love pie -- blueberry, raspberry, strawberry."
If you can guess the answer, assume that's the answer you'll get.
Pierre Soubliere.
The wrap up speeches were a little less pointed and a little more flowery. This was the last debate of the election. People thanked people and said how great it was to run against them. Then it was Pierre Soubliere's turn. The Marxist-Leninist mentioned this was only the second debate he'd been invited to. This isn't democracy, he pointed out. You don't get to hear all the voices. You're not hearing all of the debate. Don't pretend anyone can run for office and have their voice heard.
And he's right, of course. But it's even stranger than that -- some of the big party candidates just did not participate. And don't think I'm the only one who noticed. In an email Jen Hunter sent out to her supporters, she wrote:
"Mr. McGarry is barely campaigning and is not even showing up for public debates."
At the two debates, where it was just Jen and Paul, they both mentioned how disgraceful it was that the Liberals and Conservatives failed to appear.
But when Paul and Jen are sitting in a debate next to these people, they can't call them on it. You can only refer to Brian as "the elephant not in the room", as Penny did, when Brian isn't in the room. Somehow, mocking him for his absences when he is in the room -- it's bad form. Unsportsman-like. Perhaps even un-Canadian?
"Why didn't you show up at the Chinese community centre debate, Brian?"
In part you don't ask, because then Brian will talk about his ailing wife, and you look like the bad guy. But really, if your wife is sick and you can't run a real campaign, maybe you shouldn't be running at all.
Penny Colenette got the final word and I found myself choking on bile. She was espousing the very opposite of what I was thinking.
"Politics can be decent," she said. People can be "polite". She speculated that this was the "Canadian way".
I'm afraid she's half right -- Canadian debate is too polite, too decent. When someone behaves poorly, they need to be called out on it. Penny and Brian barely ran for office. I didn't get to ask them about it, and no one else asked about it. Instead, it was only hinted at in passing, never discussed openly. Everyone avoided conflict. No one wants to look like they're taking a swing at somebody else.
Penny Colenette and Brian McGarry were treated as real candidates, instead of people who avoid debates and public gatherings. That's not Canadian. That's cowardly.
Figures above the stage where the debate took place.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Debate Photographs
I asked my friend Mike to join us at one of the debates. The task I gave him -- get close-up head shots of the candidates that might be good fodder for portraits. And he did an amazing job.
Only Jen Hunter (Green) and Paul Dewar (NDP) showed up for this particular debate. Remember that at election time -- Penny Colenette (Liberal) and Brian McGarry (Conservative) regularly avoided engaging the public. They both suck. Or maybe they're just camera shy.
Yes, I paint portraits. Someone remind me to update my website -- I've got at least 3 sold portraits I haven't posted yet. It's so much more fun to blog than to mess with HTML.
Mike captured these great shots, even though he was shooting from a great distance in a poorly lit church. While others have to use off camera flashes and telephoto lenses, he gets the job done using nothing more than a pinhole camera made from an old shoe box. All praise Mike! Three cheers for Mike!
Why not gaze upon more of Mike's terrific photos?
Monday, October 06, 2008
John Akpata Sign
UPDATE: I've spoken to John Akpata online and he says he didn't make these signs. There are at least four signs like this in my neighbourhood.
This morning, while walking my dogs by the corner of Booth and Albert, I came across a John Akpata campaign sign. Someone took an obsolete Laxton sign and wrote John's name on it with marker.
This morning, while walking my dogs by the corner of Booth and Albert, I came across a John Akpata campaign sign. Someone took an obsolete Laxton sign and wrote John's name on it with marker.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Game Cancelled on Account of Lame
I was walking by Paul Dewar's office with a friend, and saw Paul in the parking lot.
"I swear I'm not stalking you," I said. "I live in this neighbourhood."
Paul laughed. I told him what housing co-op I live in, and we chatted for a bit about the bizarre things that have happened in the debates. Then, as I was about to leave, I said, "See you at the Carleton Heights debates in about two hours."
"Debate this afternoon? No, it was cancelled," Paul said. He turned to an assistant, and she confirmed it. The debate was cancelled.
I trust Paul Dewar, but when I got home I decided to call around and confirm the cancellation. I called Jen Hunter's office. They told me that both the Carleton Heights debate on Saturday afternoon, and the Carleton University debate on Monday were both cancelled. Why? The Green officer worker said it was because both Penny Colenette and Brian McGarry weren't attending the debates.
Brian McGarry has an excuse -- his ailing wife. Penny Colenette has no excuse, that I know of. I decided to call Penny's office and find out what was going on.
"I heard these two debates were cancelled since Penny and Brian weren't attending. Can you confirm that?"
The innocent young woman who answered the phone had no idea what to say to me. She put me on hold. Then a more serious sounding older man came on. I repeated my question, and his answer was both diplomatic and complete bullshit.
He said that for both debates they had neither confirmed or denied that Penny would be attending. In each case, the organizers had called to cancel the debate before Penny Colenette could see if her schedule was clear.
I thanked him and hung up.
Say you're an organizer of a debate. You have two candidates confirmed, a third has cancelled, and the fourth is neither confirming or denying they'll be there. What do you do? You cancel. Because two candidates does not a debate make. Penny's not confirming is as good as saying you're not going.
These two cancelled debates make Penny Colenette a lame politician.
"I swear I'm not stalking you," I said. "I live in this neighbourhood."
Paul laughed. I told him what housing co-op I live in, and we chatted for a bit about the bizarre things that have happened in the debates. Then, as I was about to leave, I said, "See you at the Carleton Heights debates in about two hours."
"Debate this afternoon? No, it was cancelled," Paul said. He turned to an assistant, and she confirmed it. The debate was cancelled.
I trust Paul Dewar, but when I got home I decided to call around and confirm the cancellation. I called Jen Hunter's office. They told me that both the Carleton Heights debate on Saturday afternoon, and the Carleton University debate on Monday were both cancelled. Why? The Green officer worker said it was because both Penny Colenette and Brian McGarry weren't attending the debates.
Brian McGarry has an excuse -- his ailing wife. Penny Colenette has no excuse, that I know of. I decided to call Penny's office and find out what was going on.
"I heard these two debates were cancelled since Penny and Brian weren't attending. Can you confirm that?"
The innocent young woman who answered the phone had no idea what to say to me. She put me on hold. Then a more serious sounding older man came on. I repeated my question, and his answer was both diplomatic and complete bullshit.
He said that for both debates they had neither confirmed or denied that Penny would be attending. In each case, the organizers had called to cancel the debate before Penny Colenette could see if her schedule was clear.
I thanked him and hung up.
Say you're an organizer of a debate. You have two candidates confirmed, a third has cancelled, and the fourth is neither confirming or denying they'll be there. What do you do? You cancel. Because two candidates does not a debate make. Penny's not confirming is as good as saying you're not going.
These two cancelled debates make Penny Colenette a lame politician.
Learning Chinese with a Cello
All Candidates Meeting, October 5th, 2008
This debate was bilingual. Questions for the candidates, and the responses given, were translated into Chinese. For those of us who only spoke English, it was odd -- especially when Jen Hunter gave a rambling but passionate reply that lasted nearly two minutes. The translation was a ten second statement. I had to wonder if the translator simply said, "Jen Hunter said something complicated that I could not follow."
Ottawa Centre contains Chinatown, so the Chinese vote matters. In recent years they've been getting organized. For example, one of the free newspapers, the Epoch Times, has a very Chinese perspective.
The debate took place in a building Paul Dewar described as "his old church". Now it was the new Chinese Canadian Heritage Centre. It's a large, lofty building and the seats are wooden pews. The moderator explained that many people present were voting for the first time, and he hoped that the meeting would serve as an introduction to the candidates as well as an introduction to the Canadian political system. Even to a cynical bastard like me, this was kind of touching.
Unfortunately there were only two candidates present -- Paul Dewar and Jen Hunter -- so it wasn't a full introduction. No one was particularly surprised about Brian McGarry not showing up. As I mentioned previously, his wife is sick and he's not campaigning at full force. I'm starting to doubt I will see him at any further debates.
The real surprise was the absence of the Liberal, Penny Colenette.
Michelle, myself, and a friend named Mike showed up early. We sat in the very front row. I'd asked both Michelle and Mike to take photos. They suggested at one point that I get up on stage for them. The church interior was quite dark, and they wanted to see if the lighting was good enough to get shots. I climbed up on stage and got behind the podium. Turned out the lighting wasn't too bad.
Michelle calls this one "The Niktator".
The candidates arrived after we did, and had to settle for the second row. This seating arrangement is how I got to overhear the moderator rushing up to Paul and telling him Penny Colenette just called -- ten minutes before the debate was about to start. She was canceling. For the second time, the all candidates debate was going to be the Jen and Paul show.
I could tell the organizers of the debate were completely caught off guard by this. On stage were two tables -- one for three panelists from the Chinese community, and one for the three candidates they were expecting. Three bottles of water and three chairs were there, waiting.
Penny Colenette is notably absent.
The Liberals did send someone on Penny's behalf to read a statement before the debates took place. The statement was highly diplomatic, if bizarre. It started off by saying that Penny understood fully how important these candidate meetings are, and that's why it was so unfortunate she could not attend. She said that there was a gala tonight at the NAC to support arts and culture. Given the Conservative stance on this issue -- they cut funding to arts programs -- Penny felt it was important to attend the NAC event. If only she could be in two places at the same time.
The statement made specific mention of two Chinese performers, who'd be playing the cello with the NAC orchestra. Oh good! Penny would still be having a Chinese experience -- even though the performance was going to be the music of some dead European white man.
The representative explained that she would stay at the debates and if we had any questions for Penny, she would gladly pass them along. She then repeated the statement in Chinese.
At the end of the night, I went up to this rep and asked for clarification. I explained I'd heard Penny cancelled ten minutes before the event started.
"That's not true," the representative said. An email was sent that morning, and again in the afternoon. But they only had the email address of the moderator and not the other organizers. "I don't know if he has a blackberry," she said.
So maybe he didn't get the emails, and that's why they were so shocked when Penny seemingly called at the last minute to cancel. Of course the moderator also mentioned that Brian McGarry cancelled by email that morning, but maybe he sent his email to a different address.
Still, I had to wonder why they waited until the day of the event to cancel. The NAC gala was organized a long time ago. Did Penny think she'd be able to attend both events and then realized that was impossible?
I spoke to Jen Hunter's husband, Rob. He said that another person with the Liberals told him that Penny cancelled ten days ago. Whoops! Make of that what you will. Here's hoping Penny learned all about Chinese immigration issues by hearing a Chinese person play the cello.
Waiting to speak to the representative -- the woman with the long red scarf.
There was a question I wanted to put to Paul, and I managed to ask him before the event started. What did he think of the massage parlour a few doors down from his campaign headquarters? A sudden flash of understanding came into Paul Dewar's eyes and he pulled up his jacket to the side of his face, to whisper: "I didn't know!"
At first I was skeptical. But then I remembered when the massage parlour first appeared in my neighbourhood -- I didn't know it was all about "happy endings" either. It looks vaguely legitimate. That is, until you notice it's open very late at night, and the women standing outside for smoke breaks appear to be dressed oddly for masseuses, but not so oddly for sex workers.
Michelle mentioned how she knows people who work for Ottawa bylaw who were assigned massage parlour duty. Those men were thrilled. And they'd said this particular business was one being watched.
Paul didn't say anything specific about the place. He neither supported nor spoke against them. When I said, "I guess it's better than having women walking the street," Paul agreed in a non-committal way. His reaction was very politician like, and I was a bit disappointed. Maybe if I'd raised the issue as one of sex worker rights, I'd have gotten a better response.
The debate itself was fairly bland -- the Greens and the NDP agree about everything.
There was a question about the economy. Paul argued the American situation should teach us that deregulation doesn't work.
Manufacturing jobs are being lost. Paul talked about creating "green collar jobs" by organizing government green energy programs.
When the issue of Canada's relationship with China was raised, things got a little interesting. Say you're Chinese and you're proud of your Chinese heritage. Do you want to acknowledge that China is crappy at respecting human rights and is a terrible polluter? Probably not.
Jen tried to hint that, yes, Canada should engage China -- but we should aim for "fair trade and not just free trade." She tactfully hinted at "environmental considerations and social justice" problems, which might become part of trade negotiations.
Paul said pretty much the same thing, only with less bite. We need to engage China, he said, so we can then criticize. "We're not going to agree on everything," Paul said. Which seemed like a very polite way of hinting that sweat shops and murdering protesters is something that could hamper trade. Thanks, but no tanks.
And then there's the mixed messages we're sending China, Paul said. Steven Harper didn't attend the opening of the olympics. Not going could be seen as a criticism of Chinese policies. But when pressed on the matter, Harper said he just "doesn't attend events like that." This sort of behaviour sends mixed messages. We need to have mutual respect, engagement, and be clear. Pulling back and not talking is a bad move.
There were questions about immigration -- the Greens and the NDP are for it, but think we need better programs to help immigrants integrate into Canada. Both parties agree poverty is bad and want to end it. Both parties think immigrants with training as doctors should be allowed to work as doctors. Both parties agree on pretty much everything. Dullsville, man.
The audience was then invited to ask questions. A woman wanted to know how the candidates felt about Chinese persecution of religious groups and other human rights violations.
The moderator seemed to bristle at the question. "What is your name and affiliation?" he asked coldly.
She responded forcefully, "I am a member of the Chinese community."
What was that all about, I wondered? Did the moderator know this person as a member of Falun Gong? Was she a known trouble-maker or something? Or was it just that the Chinese community would rather not consider the negative qualities of China?
Paul and Jen pretty much repeated their earlier statements. Engage, then criticize. Open a dialogue so comments can be made. Jen also mentioned the UN's Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and how it should be more wider known, perhaps guide our trade matters, and be taught in schools.
A question was asked about NAFTA and the SPP. I found Jen's response interesting. She said the Greens would scrap NAFTA. She said it represented "a partnership crafted from grave fear", and that it was forged by an "isolationist fear based understanding of the world." She talked about how having only one big client -- the United States -- spells trouble. If anything goes wrong with that one client, you lose all your business. Diversify your clients and you protect your economy.
Paul spoke of the imbalances in NAFTA and how Canada gives up way too much. He wants to re-negotiate NAFTA. It gives "American corporations more rights than the average Canadian." It states that we have to give a certain amount of our energy the US. And the dispute mechanism is flawed. The Americans drag out the process and we inevitably lose.
A question was asked about nuclear energy. Both Paul and Jen said Canada needs to get the hell away from nuclear power. It's unsafe, it's unclean, and there are so many other unexplored energy options that are better for the environment -- for example, solar and wind. Paul went so far as to say that nuclear energy has "failed miserably" in Ontario, from a financial perspective. It costs way too much.
After the debates, the candidates came down off the stage to mingle with us. I noticed a man wearing a button -- the word God with a red circle and a bar through it, no God. He was grilling the Liberal representative about God and religion. The Liberals, he said, used to be about separation of church and state. Chretien was particularly good at this, he claimed. He muttered something about "people who believe in sky fairies".
Penny, he felt, has failed to maintain her distance from religion. He ranted and raved for quite some time, while the rep squirmed and avoided eye-contact. She said several times she would take the issue back to Penny, and the man eventually was satisfied. He apologized to me for making me wait to talk to her, and I assured him that it was fine.
And it was. I love crazy people with burning passion for strange issues.
When I saw the same anti-God man waiting to talk to Jen, I rushed over and listened in.
"When are you going to disband all the churches and turn them into community centres?" he asked Jen.
Jen stared at him for a second, and tried to respond. The man noticed Paul Dewar nearby and said that he really needed to speak to Paul about this, and might run off to talk to him. No offense to the Greens. None taken, Jen said. She resisted the urge to push the man in Paul's direction.
When he was gone, I was standing next to Jen. So I asked her, "So when are you going to disband all the churches and turn them into community centres?"
"That was a new one," Jen admitted.
We chatted for a bit. She told me her husband Rob is a big fan of my blog and spent a lot of time reading it. I admitted it was something I've been working on for years now.
"I think of you as my stalker," she said happily. I was about to explain myself when she laughed and said, "Don't take that away from me."
I told her this was the third election I'd stalked in this manner. So, sadly, it was nothing personal. Jen pretended not to be disappointed.
This debate was bilingual. Questions for the candidates, and the responses given, were translated into Chinese. For those of us who only spoke English, it was odd -- especially when Jen Hunter gave a rambling but passionate reply that lasted nearly two minutes. The translation was a ten second statement. I had to wonder if the translator simply said, "Jen Hunter said something complicated that I could not follow."
Ottawa Centre contains Chinatown, so the Chinese vote matters. In recent years they've been getting organized. For example, one of the free newspapers, the Epoch Times, has a very Chinese perspective.
The debate took place in a building Paul Dewar described as "his old church". Now it was the new Chinese Canadian Heritage Centre. It's a large, lofty building and the seats are wooden pews. The moderator explained that many people present were voting for the first time, and he hoped that the meeting would serve as an introduction to the candidates as well as an introduction to the Canadian political system. Even to a cynical bastard like me, this was kind of touching.
Unfortunately there were only two candidates present -- Paul Dewar and Jen Hunter -- so it wasn't a full introduction. No one was particularly surprised about Brian McGarry not showing up. As I mentioned previously, his wife is sick and he's not campaigning at full force. I'm starting to doubt I will see him at any further debates.
The real surprise was the absence of the Liberal, Penny Colenette.
Michelle, myself, and a friend named Mike showed up early. We sat in the very front row. I'd asked both Michelle and Mike to take photos. They suggested at one point that I get up on stage for them. The church interior was quite dark, and they wanted to see if the lighting was good enough to get shots. I climbed up on stage and got behind the podium. Turned out the lighting wasn't too bad.
Michelle calls this one "The Niktator".
The candidates arrived after we did, and had to settle for the second row. This seating arrangement is how I got to overhear the moderator rushing up to Paul and telling him Penny Colenette just called -- ten minutes before the debate was about to start. She was canceling. For the second time, the all candidates debate was going to be the Jen and Paul show.
I could tell the organizers of the debate were completely caught off guard by this. On stage were two tables -- one for three panelists from the Chinese community, and one for the three candidates they were expecting. Three bottles of water and three chairs were there, waiting.
Penny Colenette is notably absent.
The Liberals did send someone on Penny's behalf to read a statement before the debates took place. The statement was highly diplomatic, if bizarre. It started off by saying that Penny understood fully how important these candidate meetings are, and that's why it was so unfortunate she could not attend. She said that there was a gala tonight at the NAC to support arts and culture. Given the Conservative stance on this issue -- they cut funding to arts programs -- Penny felt it was important to attend the NAC event. If only she could be in two places at the same time.
The statement made specific mention of two Chinese performers, who'd be playing the cello with the NAC orchestra. Oh good! Penny would still be having a Chinese experience -- even though the performance was going to be the music of some dead European white man.
The representative explained that she would stay at the debates and if we had any questions for Penny, she would gladly pass them along. She then repeated the statement in Chinese.
At the end of the night, I went up to this rep and asked for clarification. I explained I'd heard Penny cancelled ten minutes before the event started.
"That's not true," the representative said. An email was sent that morning, and again in the afternoon. But they only had the email address of the moderator and not the other organizers. "I don't know if he has a blackberry," she said.
So maybe he didn't get the emails, and that's why they were so shocked when Penny seemingly called at the last minute to cancel. Of course the moderator also mentioned that Brian McGarry cancelled by email that morning, but maybe he sent his email to a different address.
Still, I had to wonder why they waited until the day of the event to cancel. The NAC gala was organized a long time ago. Did Penny think she'd be able to attend both events and then realized that was impossible?
I spoke to Jen Hunter's husband, Rob. He said that another person with the Liberals told him that Penny cancelled ten days ago. Whoops! Make of that what you will. Here's hoping Penny learned all about Chinese immigration issues by hearing a Chinese person play the cello.
Waiting to speak to the representative -- the woman with the long red scarf.
There was a question I wanted to put to Paul, and I managed to ask him before the event started. What did he think of the massage parlour a few doors down from his campaign headquarters? A sudden flash of understanding came into Paul Dewar's eyes and he pulled up his jacket to the side of his face, to whisper: "I didn't know!"
At first I was skeptical. But then I remembered when the massage parlour first appeared in my neighbourhood -- I didn't know it was all about "happy endings" either. It looks vaguely legitimate. That is, until you notice it's open very late at night, and the women standing outside for smoke breaks appear to be dressed oddly for masseuses, but not so oddly for sex workers.
Michelle mentioned how she knows people who work for Ottawa bylaw who were assigned massage parlour duty. Those men were thrilled. And they'd said this particular business was one being watched.
Paul didn't say anything specific about the place. He neither supported nor spoke against them. When I said, "I guess it's better than having women walking the street," Paul agreed in a non-committal way. His reaction was very politician like, and I was a bit disappointed. Maybe if I'd raised the issue as one of sex worker rights, I'd have gotten a better response.
The debate itself was fairly bland -- the Greens and the NDP agree about everything.
There was a question about the economy. Paul argued the American situation should teach us that deregulation doesn't work.
Manufacturing jobs are being lost. Paul talked about creating "green collar jobs" by organizing government green energy programs.
When the issue of Canada's relationship with China was raised, things got a little interesting. Say you're Chinese and you're proud of your Chinese heritage. Do you want to acknowledge that China is crappy at respecting human rights and is a terrible polluter? Probably not.
Jen tried to hint that, yes, Canada should engage China -- but we should aim for "fair trade and not just free trade." She tactfully hinted at "environmental considerations and social justice" problems, which might become part of trade negotiations.
Paul said pretty much the same thing, only with less bite. We need to engage China, he said, so we can then criticize. "We're not going to agree on everything," Paul said. Which seemed like a very polite way of hinting that sweat shops and murdering protesters is something that could hamper trade. Thanks, but no tanks.
And then there's the mixed messages we're sending China, Paul said. Steven Harper didn't attend the opening of the olympics. Not going could be seen as a criticism of Chinese policies. But when pressed on the matter, Harper said he just "doesn't attend events like that." This sort of behaviour sends mixed messages. We need to have mutual respect, engagement, and be clear. Pulling back and not talking is a bad move.
There were questions about immigration -- the Greens and the NDP are for it, but think we need better programs to help immigrants integrate into Canada. Both parties agree poverty is bad and want to end it. Both parties think immigrants with training as doctors should be allowed to work as doctors. Both parties agree on pretty much everything. Dullsville, man.
The audience was then invited to ask questions. A woman wanted to know how the candidates felt about Chinese persecution of religious groups and other human rights violations.
The moderator seemed to bristle at the question. "What is your name and affiliation?" he asked coldly.
She responded forcefully, "I am a member of the Chinese community."
What was that all about, I wondered? Did the moderator know this person as a member of Falun Gong? Was she a known trouble-maker or something? Or was it just that the Chinese community would rather not consider the negative qualities of China?
Paul and Jen pretty much repeated their earlier statements. Engage, then criticize. Open a dialogue so comments can be made. Jen also mentioned the UN's Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and how it should be more wider known, perhaps guide our trade matters, and be taught in schools.
A question was asked about NAFTA and the SPP. I found Jen's response interesting. She said the Greens would scrap NAFTA. She said it represented "a partnership crafted from grave fear", and that it was forged by an "isolationist fear based understanding of the world." She talked about how having only one big client -- the United States -- spells trouble. If anything goes wrong with that one client, you lose all your business. Diversify your clients and you protect your economy.
Paul spoke of the imbalances in NAFTA and how Canada gives up way too much. He wants to re-negotiate NAFTA. It gives "American corporations more rights than the average Canadian." It states that we have to give a certain amount of our energy the US. And the dispute mechanism is flawed. The Americans drag out the process and we inevitably lose.
A question was asked about nuclear energy. Both Paul and Jen said Canada needs to get the hell away from nuclear power. It's unsafe, it's unclean, and there are so many other unexplored energy options that are better for the environment -- for example, solar and wind. Paul went so far as to say that nuclear energy has "failed miserably" in Ontario, from a financial perspective. It costs way too much.
After the debates, the candidates came down off the stage to mingle with us. I noticed a man wearing a button -- the word God with a red circle and a bar through it, no God. He was grilling the Liberal representative about God and religion. The Liberals, he said, used to be about separation of church and state. Chretien was particularly good at this, he claimed. He muttered something about "people who believe in sky fairies".
Penny, he felt, has failed to maintain her distance from religion. He ranted and raved for quite some time, while the rep squirmed and avoided eye-contact. She said several times she would take the issue back to Penny, and the man eventually was satisfied. He apologized to me for making me wait to talk to her, and I assured him that it was fine.
And it was. I love crazy people with burning passion for strange issues.
When I saw the same anti-God man waiting to talk to Jen, I rushed over and listened in.
"When are you going to disband all the churches and turn them into community centres?" he asked Jen.
Jen stared at him for a second, and tried to respond. The man noticed Paul Dewar nearby and said that he really needed to speak to Paul about this, and might run off to talk to him. No offense to the Greens. None taken, Jen said. She resisted the urge to push the man in Paul's direction.
When he was gone, I was standing next to Jen. So I asked her, "So when are you going to disband all the churches and turn them into community centres?"
"That was a new one," Jen admitted.
We chatted for a bit. She told me her husband Rob is a big fan of my blog and spent a lot of time reading it. I admitted it was something I've been working on for years now.
"I think of you as my stalker," she said happily. I was about to explain myself when she laughed and said, "Don't take that away from me."
I told her this was the third election I'd stalked in this manner. So, sadly, it was nothing personal. Jen pretended not to be disappointed.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Margaret Thatcher and Penny Colenette
All Candidates Meeting, October 3rd, 2008
Remember on Sesame Street, how they were always pushing for cooperation? Some people listened. That's how co-op housing was born. I think we should all take a moment to bow our heads and give a silent thanks to Cookie Monster for changing the world.
Okay, not really.
This particular candidates meeting was specifically for housing co-op members, and took place in the meeting room at the Cartier Square Housing Co-op. I was there. You can't keep me out, because I am such an intrepid journalist. I forced my way in, flashing my homemade blogger badge and I...
Okay, okay -- I've lived in a housing co-op for the last 8 years. But I do so love the look on candidates faces when they walk into the room and see me sitting there yet again. "You? How the hell did you even find out about this meeting?"
Because I was still a little hung over from the night before, I considered skipping this meeting. That is, until I heard about the format. We would be seeing each candidate, one at a time, for half an hour. That sounded like too much fun to miss.
And by each candidate, I mean Paul Dewar (NDP), Jen Hunter (Green), and Penny Colenette (Liberal). Brian McGarry (Conservative) wasn't coming. Normally I would mock Brian for being a wuss. But there's a story going around that his wife is ill, and that he offered to drop out of the campaign. The Conservatives asked him to stay, and McGarry agreed. But he hinted that he wouldn't be doing any serious campaigning.
This sucks -- because I was having so much fun mocking McGarry. Losing a hero is a shame. Losing a villain is a real tragedy.
* * *
Let me first preach to you about why co-op housing is the best thing in the entire world.
A young woman summarized her housing co-op experience for a candidate. She was a single mother, but prefers the term "sole income parent". And she found herself facing a choice -- move into social housing, or move into a housing co-op.
Social housing could be described in a less friendly way as "welfare housing". Take all the poor people with problems and put them in one building together where the rest of society doesn't have to deal with them. Ghettos for the poor. The government charges less rent, but beyond that offers very little help.
A housing co-op works differently. There's a mix of people from all income levels. In the housing co-op where I live, we are mandated to have a certain percentage of subsidized members. We have people paying full rent living side-by-side with subsidized people. As a not-for-profit, all the rents are cheaper for everyone. In fact, we get together as a community and vote on what our rents should be, and how our money will be spent. For example, we vote on repairs, signs, lighting, and other funding issues.
It's sort of like living in a commune, where everyone has their own home, and we don't necessarily have to get together and eat boiled lentils and sing around someone playing the guitar.
This young woman chose to live in a housing co-operative, and it made all the difference in her life. For starters, she got a bigger home to live in. Many opportunities she wouldn't have had became available to her -- presumably in part because of her contact with supportive neighbours. She joined the board of her co-op, became the treasurer and learned how to balance the books, became the co-op president, gained confidence, and improved her career choices.
By the time she was done telling this story to the forty or so people present, we were ready to carry her around the room on our shoulders, singing songs about how wonderful she was. (Where did we leave that guitar?) Somehow we managed to restrain ourselves, and merely applauded.
So why are there so many welfare housing developments, and so few housing co-ops? Basically, because the government is ignorant and greedy. They keep cutting the funding. Co-ops are seen as a luxury, and social housing is seen as an unfortunate necessity. Which is ridiculous, because housing co-ops are cheaper.
Penny Colenette was the last speaker of the night. She explained these cuts with some theatrical sadness. We were facing tough economic times in the early 90s. There was a huge deficit, and we had to make some difficult choices.
But she had some good news for us! Could she read us something she'd printed out? We allowed it, and from her purse she pulled out an email, and began to read.
The Liberals are promising funding for housing, including federally funded housing co-ops. Penny lowered her glasses -- is that you guys?
Yes, Penny -- that's us.
Penny Colenette, with John Akpata in the background taking notes.
She read on. They were also promising money to repair the infrastructure. And finally, they were also promising money to help make housing co-ops green.
Suddenly I understood why some of my neighbours had Liberals signs on their lawn. Typically, co-ops support the NDP or the Greens. But this Liberal promise is a big deal for housing co-operatives.
Everyone in the room became very excited. This promise was a tangible thing we could all point to and say, "Someone is listening to us!"
But many of the people seemed to miss Penny's caveat -- we are facing uncertain economic times. Just look at the Americans and their $700 billion bailout. Who knows what the future holds? Penny hinted that the funding might not come through if things get really bad.
But no one wanted to hear that downer talk and the matter was quickly dropped.
Another thing no one wanted to notice is that Penny has no idea what a housing co-op is. At one point she mentioned some concern about how funding for housing is given out. Some "landlords" are corrupt, and will misuse the money. So she felt that there should be some checks and balances attached to the cash.
When someone pointed out that housing co-ops don't have landlords, Penny quickly said, "Oh, of course!" She seemed to think she'd merely misspoken, instead of revealing a fundamental ignorance of the facts.
But the highlight of her ignorance came when she praised Margaret Thatcher. Old Maggie actually did something good for once, Penny said. She made it possible for people living in social housing to buy their own units. People were very eager to prove they could do good, and buy their homes. Penny's own husband wanted to go back to England and buy one.
The room grew slightly chilly. Someone tried to explain to Penny that housing co-ops don't work that way. We don't want to buy our units. Such an option would kill a co-op. People come together, as a group, build a community, and help each other out. Once you buy and own your own unit, you're no longer sharing resources with others. You go from being a co-op, to being a condo.
Barbara, another one of my neighbours, had some experience with the situation in England. She told Penny that the Margaret Thatcher story had another flaw -- some people could afford to buy their units, and others could not. Those unfortunate people found themselves pushed into worse social housing projects where the conditions were terrible. So, yes, some people benefitted, but others suffered.
Penny Colenette blinked at us. She really didn't get it. And yet, based on the promises of her party, the Liberals did seem to have at least some understanding of how housing co-ops work. It appeared that some people in the room were willing to overlook Penny's flaws and vote for the party.
There was another telling Penny Colenette moment that gave me chills. She was talking about the Liberal promise of funding 30,000 affordable housing units across Canada. What other cities would be fighting for those units? Because she would obviously be fighting for Ottawa to get the most units, and she wanted to know who else would be fighting.
My neighbour Tracey, who knows Canada housing issues inside and out, said, well, all the big cities. Toronto, and Montreal, and Calgary.
We don't have to worry about Calgary, Penny said with a laugh. "They won't be electing any Liberal MPs!"
Everyone laughed. But then I stopped laughing. Because what she just said implied that if you're stupid enough not to elect a Liberal MP, your area won't be getting any affordable housing units. Paul Dewar is pretty much a sure thing in Ottawa Centre. Did that mean, if the Liberals came in to power, we would be punished for electing a non-Liberal MP?
* * *
Paul Dewar went first and, as always, was very impressive. The thing about Paul is that you can never blind side him. If you went up to him and said "Mister Dewar, I am concerned about giraffes on Mars," he knows all about it. He'd tell you that the giraffes are purple and green, eat salted strawberries, and speak fluent Mandarin. And you'd realize that not only does he understand the issue, he knows more about it than you do. And this warm glow would wash over you as you became certain that Paul Dewar has the giraffes on Mars issue perfectly covered.
No one had to explain housing co-ops to Paul Dewar. He knows what they are. He also knows all about the issues they face. Dewar joked that the election was a chance for him to "reapply for his job". If that's the case, this was the most casual of job interviews.
Hey, Paul, how are you? Good? Excellent. Let me just rubber-stamp that form for you and you can be on your way.
I liked the format of having each candidate come in one at a time and speak to us. It was far more intimate a conversation. Instead of thirty second sound bites, the candidates got to sprawl out, relax, show us who they are and what matters to them.
But it was a shame Paul didn't get a chance to see Penny Colenette speak. I am certain he would have some choice words about the Liberal promises.
People asked Paul if the NDP would work with other parties to bring about changes. Of course he said yes. He also pointed out it has happened in the past. When there was a surplus, the Liberals wanted to sit on it. The NDP said they would support the Liberal government only if the Liberals to put more money into housing, education, and transit.
Housing, Paul said, is the most important issue facing Canada. The UN recently did a survey of the Canadian housing situation and gave us a failing grade. While this made the press, and some people were embarrassed, very little changed. Things need to change.
And that was about it for Paul Dewar.
Can you tell Paul Dewar is a teacher?
* * *
John Akpata crashed the party. Perhaps crashed is too strong a word. He showed up, and it was no big deal. There was a table of snacks, and he grabbed a plate and shamelessly piled food on to it and chowed down. He is a poet after all, and needs all the free food he can get.
John was given a chance to introduce himself and talk a bit. Someone asked pointedly, "Why should we vote for you?"
"I'm the only politician who will never lie to you," John said simply. He also pointed out that his party could be called the silent majority. "More people use cannabis than voted for Steven Harper."
John did come up and say hi to me and shake my hand. Which is nice, because I was worried he might want to kill me after what I wrote about him. I introduced him to Michelle, who was with me. She gushed over a comment John made at a previous debate and he looked extremely pleased.
* * *
Jen Hunter focused more on who she is than on her knowledge of the issues. She gave us a semi-rambling introduction in which she openly admitted that she was no housing expert. Instead, she emphasized her abilities as a facilitator -- something she does for a living. She joked about how she likes to go up to strangers and say hi and ask them questions about their lives. Running for office was like a license to do that.
During her campaigning, she told us, many students ask her about student related issues. No surprise. And she tells them the hard truth. Not a lot of students vote. If you want your issues to be a part of the debate, you need to be involved in the process. "When you turn up, you get more airtime."
Jen Hunter.
When confronted with some tough housing questions, she didn't really have much to say. She pointed to the Green Vision Platform. It's an amazing document and she stands by it, she said. She encouraged us all to read it and come to her with any specific questions about it. She sort of sounded like an author on a book tour, who keeps getting interviewed by people who haven't read the book.
Jen said her desire is to breathe life into politics. She pointed at me and said that I came up to her after one of the debates and told her she was the only one up there who looked alive. That's what she strives to do.
Everyone is focusing on the negative. They're fighting for their own small groups. We need to "shift away from being so suspicious of each other." We keep killing each others ideas. "What if we dreamed again?" Jen asked. She spoke about "collaborative intelligence" and "building bridges".
Again and again she hammered home this idea that she works as a facilitator and that's what she'd bring to the job. It was strange, because if my employers sent me to Jen on some training exercise, I would want to strangle her. That HR feel good drivel makes me sick. But in the forum of politics, it seemed bright and interesting. It confronts a lot of the old problems in politics -- parties against parties, politicians against politicians. In the political world, the idea of working together seems almost alien.
Jen's passionate approach made me think about Penny Colenette. Penny is wooden, stiff, reserved, emotionless, android like. She works as an adjunct professor at Ottawa U, and it shows. She feels professorial, somehow -- aloof. She teaches ethics and corporate responsibility, and only mentioned this in passing. I think it would be interesting and helpful if she expanded on that. Jen uses her facilitator job as a focus for a lot of what she believes in, and that passion really comes across. Maybe Penny would seem more believable and passionate if she spoke about how ethics matter to her.
Which reminds me... Penny tried to tell us a heart-warming campaigning story that was meant to make her seem human, but failed. She said she was campaigning in a poorer neighbourhood, and someone answered the door and asked, "You do things to help people?"
Penny said yes. "What do you need?"
"A kitchen table," the woman replied.
Penny was heartbroken, and began asking her campaign helpers to try to find this woman a kitchen table.
I think this story fails because it's downright goofy. A kitchen table? Really? That's it? The story feels like a campaigning joke one candidate tells another. "And so we tried to find her a table! Can you believe it?" Penny was trying to turn it into something profound and emotional.
There's something sort of sour and forced about Penny that makes it really hard to connect to her. Meanwhile Jen is always laughing and happy, reaching out to you in a sincere way.
Jen talked about "bullying". You can't take your kids to see the House of Commons in action, because the place is a zoo. It's disgusting. We need to move away from negativity. Then she gave an example. When people find out she's a green party candidate, they criticize her. They make fun of her for dying her hair, for wearing make-up, for driving a car...
Which was the exact list of criticisms John and Andrew made after talking to her a few nights ago. That's how I wrote about it in a previous article.
Before she was even ten feet away, John started tearing Jen Hunter apart. She's the Green Party candidate? John sneered. "She dyes her hair and wears make up!" Plus she was going to drive a car home!
It's always nice to know I've got candidates for readers.
Of course these are ridiculous and unfair criticisms of Jen. The trouble with the Green party is that they set themselves up for that kind of attack. The Green name implies they're the environmental police. And when you see the eco-cops breaking "the law", it's tempting to mock them for it. Even tiny, insignificant laws. You can't expect a Green to walk or take the bus everywhere. Ottawa Centre is a big place, and campaigning is hard work.
* * *
At the end of the evening, my neighbours and I spoke to John some more. He talked about marijuana laws, and how we spend $1.2 billion dollars on prohibition of pot. Whenever a politician says they're going to spend a million dollars on this issue, or ten million on that, John keeps thinking, yeah, but you spend $1.2 billion in prohibition.
My co-op housing neighbours all agreed. Because let's face it, we people who living in housing co-ops are practically pot-smoking hippies. Even Barbara, a retired civil servant, seemed to be against marijuana prohibition. When we teased her about it, she laughed and said, "I was young once!"
We all seemed to agree that it was depressing and disappointing how much time and effort is wasted on fighting marijuana. That money could go somewhere else -- say, housing?
Remember on Sesame Street, how they were always pushing for cooperation? Some people listened. That's how co-op housing was born. I think we should all take a moment to bow our heads and give a silent thanks to Cookie Monster for changing the world.
Okay, not really.
This particular candidates meeting was specifically for housing co-op members, and took place in the meeting room at the Cartier Square Housing Co-op. I was there. You can't keep me out, because I am such an intrepid journalist. I forced my way in, flashing my homemade blogger badge and I...
Okay, okay -- I've lived in a housing co-op for the last 8 years. But I do so love the look on candidates faces when they walk into the room and see me sitting there yet again. "You? How the hell did you even find out about this meeting?"
Because I was still a little hung over from the night before, I considered skipping this meeting. That is, until I heard about the format. We would be seeing each candidate, one at a time, for half an hour. That sounded like too much fun to miss.
And by each candidate, I mean Paul Dewar (NDP), Jen Hunter (Green), and Penny Colenette (Liberal). Brian McGarry (Conservative) wasn't coming. Normally I would mock Brian for being a wuss. But there's a story going around that his wife is ill, and that he offered to drop out of the campaign. The Conservatives asked him to stay, and McGarry agreed. But he hinted that he wouldn't be doing any serious campaigning.
This sucks -- because I was having so much fun mocking McGarry. Losing a hero is a shame. Losing a villain is a real tragedy.
* * *
Let me first preach to you about why co-op housing is the best thing in the entire world.
A young woman summarized her housing co-op experience for a candidate. She was a single mother, but prefers the term "sole income parent". And she found herself facing a choice -- move into social housing, or move into a housing co-op.
Social housing could be described in a less friendly way as "welfare housing". Take all the poor people with problems and put them in one building together where the rest of society doesn't have to deal with them. Ghettos for the poor. The government charges less rent, but beyond that offers very little help.
A housing co-op works differently. There's a mix of people from all income levels. In the housing co-op where I live, we are mandated to have a certain percentage of subsidized members. We have people paying full rent living side-by-side with subsidized people. As a not-for-profit, all the rents are cheaper for everyone. In fact, we get together as a community and vote on what our rents should be, and how our money will be spent. For example, we vote on repairs, signs, lighting, and other funding issues.
It's sort of like living in a commune, where everyone has their own home, and we don't necessarily have to get together and eat boiled lentils and sing around someone playing the guitar.
This young woman chose to live in a housing co-operative, and it made all the difference in her life. For starters, she got a bigger home to live in. Many opportunities she wouldn't have had became available to her -- presumably in part because of her contact with supportive neighbours. She joined the board of her co-op, became the treasurer and learned how to balance the books, became the co-op president, gained confidence, and improved her career choices.
By the time she was done telling this story to the forty or so people present, we were ready to carry her around the room on our shoulders, singing songs about how wonderful she was. (Where did we leave that guitar?) Somehow we managed to restrain ourselves, and merely applauded.
So why are there so many welfare housing developments, and so few housing co-ops? Basically, because the government is ignorant and greedy. They keep cutting the funding. Co-ops are seen as a luxury, and social housing is seen as an unfortunate necessity. Which is ridiculous, because housing co-ops are cheaper.
Penny Colenette was the last speaker of the night. She explained these cuts with some theatrical sadness. We were facing tough economic times in the early 90s. There was a huge deficit, and we had to make some difficult choices.
But she had some good news for us! Could she read us something she'd printed out? We allowed it, and from her purse she pulled out an email, and began to read.
The Liberals are promising funding for housing, including federally funded housing co-ops. Penny lowered her glasses -- is that you guys?
Yes, Penny -- that's us.
Penny Colenette, with John Akpata in the background taking notes.
She read on. They were also promising money to repair the infrastructure. And finally, they were also promising money to help make housing co-ops green.
Suddenly I understood why some of my neighbours had Liberals signs on their lawn. Typically, co-ops support the NDP or the Greens. But this Liberal promise is a big deal for housing co-operatives.
Everyone in the room became very excited. This promise was a tangible thing we could all point to and say, "Someone is listening to us!"
But many of the people seemed to miss Penny's caveat -- we are facing uncertain economic times. Just look at the Americans and their $700 billion bailout. Who knows what the future holds? Penny hinted that the funding might not come through if things get really bad.
But no one wanted to hear that downer talk and the matter was quickly dropped.
Another thing no one wanted to notice is that Penny has no idea what a housing co-op is. At one point she mentioned some concern about how funding for housing is given out. Some "landlords" are corrupt, and will misuse the money. So she felt that there should be some checks and balances attached to the cash.
When someone pointed out that housing co-ops don't have landlords, Penny quickly said, "Oh, of course!" She seemed to think she'd merely misspoken, instead of revealing a fundamental ignorance of the facts.
But the highlight of her ignorance came when she praised Margaret Thatcher. Old Maggie actually did something good for once, Penny said. She made it possible for people living in social housing to buy their own units. People were very eager to prove they could do good, and buy their homes. Penny's own husband wanted to go back to England and buy one.
The room grew slightly chilly. Someone tried to explain to Penny that housing co-ops don't work that way. We don't want to buy our units. Such an option would kill a co-op. People come together, as a group, build a community, and help each other out. Once you buy and own your own unit, you're no longer sharing resources with others. You go from being a co-op, to being a condo.
Barbara, another one of my neighbours, had some experience with the situation in England. She told Penny that the Margaret Thatcher story had another flaw -- some people could afford to buy their units, and others could not. Those unfortunate people found themselves pushed into worse social housing projects where the conditions were terrible. So, yes, some people benefitted, but others suffered.
Penny Colenette blinked at us. She really didn't get it. And yet, based on the promises of her party, the Liberals did seem to have at least some understanding of how housing co-ops work. It appeared that some people in the room were willing to overlook Penny's flaws and vote for the party.
There was another telling Penny Colenette moment that gave me chills. She was talking about the Liberal promise of funding 30,000 affordable housing units across Canada. What other cities would be fighting for those units? Because she would obviously be fighting for Ottawa to get the most units, and she wanted to know who else would be fighting.
My neighbour Tracey, who knows Canada housing issues inside and out, said, well, all the big cities. Toronto, and Montreal, and Calgary.
We don't have to worry about Calgary, Penny said with a laugh. "They won't be electing any Liberal MPs!"
Everyone laughed. But then I stopped laughing. Because what she just said implied that if you're stupid enough not to elect a Liberal MP, your area won't be getting any affordable housing units. Paul Dewar is pretty much a sure thing in Ottawa Centre. Did that mean, if the Liberals came in to power, we would be punished for electing a non-Liberal MP?
* * *
Paul Dewar went first and, as always, was very impressive. The thing about Paul is that you can never blind side him. If you went up to him and said "Mister Dewar, I am concerned about giraffes on Mars," he knows all about it. He'd tell you that the giraffes are purple and green, eat salted strawberries, and speak fluent Mandarin. And you'd realize that not only does he understand the issue, he knows more about it than you do. And this warm glow would wash over you as you became certain that Paul Dewar has the giraffes on Mars issue perfectly covered.
No one had to explain housing co-ops to Paul Dewar. He knows what they are. He also knows all about the issues they face. Dewar joked that the election was a chance for him to "reapply for his job". If that's the case, this was the most casual of job interviews.
Hey, Paul, how are you? Good? Excellent. Let me just rubber-stamp that form for you and you can be on your way.
I liked the format of having each candidate come in one at a time and speak to us. It was far more intimate a conversation. Instead of thirty second sound bites, the candidates got to sprawl out, relax, show us who they are and what matters to them.
But it was a shame Paul didn't get a chance to see Penny Colenette speak. I am certain he would have some choice words about the Liberal promises.
People asked Paul if the NDP would work with other parties to bring about changes. Of course he said yes. He also pointed out it has happened in the past. When there was a surplus, the Liberals wanted to sit on it. The NDP said they would support the Liberal government only if the Liberals to put more money into housing, education, and transit.
Housing, Paul said, is the most important issue facing Canada. The UN recently did a survey of the Canadian housing situation and gave us a failing grade. While this made the press, and some people were embarrassed, very little changed. Things need to change.
And that was about it for Paul Dewar.
Can you tell Paul Dewar is a teacher?
* * *
John Akpata crashed the party. Perhaps crashed is too strong a word. He showed up, and it was no big deal. There was a table of snacks, and he grabbed a plate and shamelessly piled food on to it and chowed down. He is a poet after all, and needs all the free food he can get.
John was given a chance to introduce himself and talk a bit. Someone asked pointedly, "Why should we vote for you?"
"I'm the only politician who will never lie to you," John said simply. He also pointed out that his party could be called the silent majority. "More people use cannabis than voted for Steven Harper."
John did come up and say hi to me and shake my hand. Which is nice, because I was worried he might want to kill me after what I wrote about him. I introduced him to Michelle, who was with me. She gushed over a comment John made at a previous debate and he looked extremely pleased.
* * *
Jen Hunter focused more on who she is than on her knowledge of the issues. She gave us a semi-rambling introduction in which she openly admitted that she was no housing expert. Instead, she emphasized her abilities as a facilitator -- something she does for a living. She joked about how she likes to go up to strangers and say hi and ask them questions about their lives. Running for office was like a license to do that.
During her campaigning, she told us, many students ask her about student related issues. No surprise. And she tells them the hard truth. Not a lot of students vote. If you want your issues to be a part of the debate, you need to be involved in the process. "When you turn up, you get more airtime."
Jen Hunter.
When confronted with some tough housing questions, she didn't really have much to say. She pointed to the Green Vision Platform. It's an amazing document and she stands by it, she said. She encouraged us all to read it and come to her with any specific questions about it. She sort of sounded like an author on a book tour, who keeps getting interviewed by people who haven't read the book.
Jen said her desire is to breathe life into politics. She pointed at me and said that I came up to her after one of the debates and told her she was the only one up there who looked alive. That's what she strives to do.
Everyone is focusing on the negative. They're fighting for their own small groups. We need to "shift away from being so suspicious of each other." We keep killing each others ideas. "What if we dreamed again?" Jen asked. She spoke about "collaborative intelligence" and "building bridges".
Again and again she hammered home this idea that she works as a facilitator and that's what she'd bring to the job. It was strange, because if my employers sent me to Jen on some training exercise, I would want to strangle her. That HR feel good drivel makes me sick. But in the forum of politics, it seemed bright and interesting. It confronts a lot of the old problems in politics -- parties against parties, politicians against politicians. In the political world, the idea of working together seems almost alien.
Jen's passionate approach made me think about Penny Colenette. Penny is wooden, stiff, reserved, emotionless, android like. She works as an adjunct professor at Ottawa U, and it shows. She feels professorial, somehow -- aloof. She teaches ethics and corporate responsibility, and only mentioned this in passing. I think it would be interesting and helpful if she expanded on that. Jen uses her facilitator job as a focus for a lot of what she believes in, and that passion really comes across. Maybe Penny would seem more believable and passionate if she spoke about how ethics matter to her.
Which reminds me... Penny tried to tell us a heart-warming campaigning story that was meant to make her seem human, but failed. She said she was campaigning in a poorer neighbourhood, and someone answered the door and asked, "You do things to help people?"
Penny said yes. "What do you need?"
"A kitchen table," the woman replied.
Penny was heartbroken, and began asking her campaign helpers to try to find this woman a kitchen table.
I think this story fails because it's downright goofy. A kitchen table? Really? That's it? The story feels like a campaigning joke one candidate tells another. "And so we tried to find her a table! Can you believe it?" Penny was trying to turn it into something profound and emotional.
There's something sort of sour and forced about Penny that makes it really hard to connect to her. Meanwhile Jen is always laughing and happy, reaching out to you in a sincere way.
Jen talked about "bullying". You can't take your kids to see the House of Commons in action, because the place is a zoo. It's disgusting. We need to move away from negativity. Then she gave an example. When people find out she's a green party candidate, they criticize her. They make fun of her for dying her hair, for wearing make-up, for driving a car...
Which was the exact list of criticisms John and Andrew made after talking to her a few nights ago. That's how I wrote about it in a previous article.
Before she was even ten feet away, John started tearing Jen Hunter apart. She's the Green Party candidate? John sneered. "She dyes her hair and wears make up!" Plus she was going to drive a car home!
It's always nice to know I've got candidates for readers.
Of course these are ridiculous and unfair criticisms of Jen. The trouble with the Green party is that they set themselves up for that kind of attack. The Green name implies they're the environmental police. And when you see the eco-cops breaking "the law", it's tempting to mock them for it. Even tiny, insignificant laws. You can't expect a Green to walk or take the bus everywhere. Ottawa Centre is a big place, and campaigning is hard work.
* * *
At the end of the evening, my neighbours and I spoke to John some more. He talked about marijuana laws, and how we spend $1.2 billion dollars on prohibition of pot. Whenever a politician says they're going to spend a million dollars on this issue, or ten million on that, John keeps thinking, yeah, but you spend $1.2 billion in prohibition.
My co-op housing neighbours all agreed. Because let's face it, we people who living in housing co-ops are practically pot-smoking hippies. Even Barbara, a retired civil servant, seemed to be against marijuana prohibition. When we teased her about it, she laughed and said, "I was young once!"
We all seemed to agree that it was depressing and disappointing how much time and effort is wasted on fighting marijuana. That money could go somewhere else -- say, housing?
Friday, October 03, 2008
Shut up! I can't hear those people yelling!
Leaders Debate Night, October 2nd, 2008
People with signs were clustered around the opening of the driveway leading to the National Arts Centre. The leader debates were about to take place. I would guess there were roughly 200 people, but I suck at math. They yelled and shook signs. If I was a tourist from Belgium -- we managed to meet one passing by -- I would be very confused. I would assume these people were cheering for their favourite sports teams.
"It is a very special night," that tourist said to us in hesitant English. He had one of those guidebooks tucked under his arm. I'm guessing it didn't cover this sort of thing.
"We're not always like this," I said. "We're Canadians. We tend to be very quiet."
If you faced the NAC driveway from across the street, it broke down so symbolically it was almost painful. There was no one on the far left. NDP supporters were clustered mostly on the centre left. The Liberals were on the centre right. Another group of Liberals managed to climb up to an NAC balcony and were yelling down at us from their moral high ground.
The Conservatives were, obviously, on the right, and the far right, and also across the street, quietly watching everyone in an ominous way. The Greens -- and I swear I am not making this up to stretch an already thin metaphor -- were mostly gathered on a traffic island in the middle of the street, vaguely irrelevant, some distance from the rest of the crowd.
One Green supporter was playing the trombone. I have no idea why.
As Michelle and I ran away from the Greens, trying to cross the street, they yelled after us, "Don't get run over! We need your votes!"
There were more Conservatives than anyone else. They were all young white men. Even when they were women, or old, or a dog wearing a tory bandana, they were young white men. Clean and very white, they looked like walking bars of soap. They were extremely passionate and vocal, loving every second of this.
Where other parties are about politics, the Conservatives seem to be more of a personality cult. Everyone else chanted political slogans. All the Conservatives had was, "Harper! Harper! Harper!"
But really, what more did they need?
I was extremely embarrassed when the NDP people started chanting "Sol-sol-sol, solidarite!"
Could they not be communists for even one evening?
The Conservatives were so concerned with law and order that they're quite wimpy. I overheard one woman telling a story to a friend. She repeated something she said to one of the cops: "Officer, they're squishing me!"
I can't help but think what Andrew would say. Andrew, the anarchist, getting tear gassed and throwing himself on to the shields of riot cops. He'd sneer at these Conservative blue bloods.
One tory showed us his sign. NDP supporters had slapped "END THE FEES!" stickers all over it. "NDP intimidation!" he said.
Where are the riot police when you need them?
NDP intimidation.
The Liberals were hardly noticeable, somehow. They were there, but they seemed like Conservatives who were slightly less polished. This made them invisible. At one point I was running around looking for a Liberal to talk to -- any Liberal -- and despite all the signs, I couldn't find one.
The NDP featured a bizarre ragtag group of freaks and weirdoes. And I say this as someone who vaguely supports Jack Layton. One scruffy man looked like he'd been biking past the event and decided to throw in his support. He muttered, "Jack, Jack," quietly to himself.
A chubby little man half-heartedly waved a small cardboard sign at passing traffic. When we asked if we could take his picture, he blushed. "Okay," he said, with mild enthusiasm.
The man who mumbled, "Jack. Jack."
Mildly enthusiastic Layton fan.
There were some more vocal NDP supporters. They lined up along the NAC driveway with their signs. And sign wars broke out -- NDP folks trying to block Conservative signs. The tories had snuck over, trying to steal a bit of ground. A fight nearly broke out, but NDP people rushed forward and pulled the two men apart. Then a guy with a loudspeaker ran over and started chanting, "Out of office, out of here!" Strangely, that seemed to calm things down.
The Conservatives were goon-like. I overhead one Harper fan say to another, "Let's go fuck with the Greens!" and they walked over to the Green traffic Island with their signs at the ready. I imagine the Greens retaliated by playing the trombone.
There was a police presence -- a few cops in reflective vests, mostly directing traffic. But they were hardly necessary. In typical Canadian fashion, we policed ourselves.
Overweight journalist wanna-be.
Several people saw my notebook and said, "Who are you with?"
"He's a blogger!" Michelle yelled helpfully.
"Oh? What blog?"
"Kill Everything!" Michelle yelled.
This received many blank and confused stares, as well as nervous laughter.
One man's response: "I'm guessing you're not a Conservative."
What a bizarre thing to say, given the Conservative readiness to engage in pointless wars.
Eventually I just told people my blog was at nikart.ca. It was easier than trying to explain that "Kill Everything" is a Zen quote from Alan Watts. Watts was explaining the idea behind the phrase, "If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him." Symbolically, this means destroy the idea of a separate you and a separate Buddha. You and he and everything are one. Kill the idea of the other. Do this with all of the things around you. Kill your family, your friends, your pets. In his excitement, Watts blurts out, "Kill everything!"
Now let us never speak of this again.
We knew where the NDP supporters were going to meet up to watch the debates. We had no idea where everyone else was going. So at one point we ran around asking different people where they were headed. It broke down like this:
The NDP -- Hooley's.
The Greens -- The Standard.
The Liberals -- The Fox and Feather.
The Conservatives -- The Lord Elgin.
Reading the list over, it's easy to see which political group is ruling Parliament and is super square. The first three locations are bars. The Lord Elgin is a fancy hotel. By the end of the evening, I was envious of the Conservative's choice of venue.
When we poked our heads in at the Lord Elgin, it was pretty early. Hardly anyone was there. There was a bar out in the hall, and a table set up with coffee and tea. In "The Lady Elgin Room" were chairs in rows facing a big screen TV. A few people were already sitting and listening to the pre-debate news chatter. The room looked so organized, so professional. And so very clean.
Michelle and I helped ourselves to the coffee, and then took pictures of each other drinking it. I whispered childishly, "We're stealing Conservative Coffee!"
An older, wizened, respectable looking gentleman came up for coffee and apologized for getting in the way of our picture taking.
"Not at all," I said. "We're the ones acting silly."
And it felt bad, for a moment, misbehaving in the Lord Elgin hotel.
Tory TV room.
Drinking Conservative Coffee.
Michelle demonstrates the raised pinkie maneuver.
The Liberals were meeting at the Fox and Feather. We walked in, and it was just a bar. A large Penny Colenette sign was upside-down and leaning against the wall. We joked about how shameful this was -- upside-down? Unbelievable! No one paid attention to us.
Nearby were red buckets. For vomiting after the excess of the evening, perhaps? A man in a red tie was sitting by the window. I assumed he was a Liberal.
"Mind if I take your picture?" I asked.
"Uh..." the man said.
"Umm...." said the woman standing next to him.
I snapped the photo. "Thanks!"
Sign and barf buckets.
"Why is that fat man taking our picture?"
The Greens were meeting at the Standard. The outside of the place was plastered with Green signs. At the door was a man, dressed in green, next to a table with Green pins on it. The entire bar seemed to be full of Green supporters, and the atmosphere was one of cool lounge music. These people looked hip, young, sophisticated, and vaguely grungy -- hippies with jobs. They're what I always imagined NDP supporters should look like. That cannot be a good sign for the NDP.
Michelle snapped a few photos.
Green signs stuck on bar windows.
The Green Man.
The NDP were meeting at Hooley's -- where the anorexic bimbo waitresses all wear plaid miniskirts, entirely in keeping with NDP values. Why not just cut to the chase and hold the gathering at a stripjoint?
On top of that, it was not wheelchair accessible. I noticed this because there was an NDP supporter outside, sitting in his electric scooter, obviously pissed off that he couldn't get in to the bar. I see this young handicapped man at nearly every NDP event I go to. He's a big supporter.
What incredible poor planning on the part of the NDP. What idiot chose this bar?
Again, I was struck by the bizarre symbolism of the moment. The NDP came together, in theory, to watch the debate. When we came in, the TV was tuned to a sports channel. They finally turned it to the debate as it was just starting. You couldn't hear much because everyone was talking loudly. I was sitting across the table from Michelle, and we couldn't hear each other, let alone the debates.
Most of the people at our table were young kids who'd seemingly shown up for the free food. Their hands were marked with black Xs to indicate they weren't allowed to drink. They were all drinking water -- evidently too cheap to buy anything. Just using the system for their own ends.
One guy kept going over to a complex-looking sound board, twisting a single knob that changed nothing, shrugging his shoulders, and walking away. I guess he was trying to crank the volume. Early in the evening, a man with a megaphone patiently explained that some of us were there to hear the debates. If you want to talk, please go to the other end of the bar. Everyone fell more or less silent -- for five seconds. Then the chaos resumed.
Michelle and I ordered a pitcher of beer. She asked for a veggie burger, and the waitress came back a few minutes later to tell us they were sold out. They knew the NDP supporters were coming -- why didn't they stock up on the vegetarian food?
Our precious beer.
Please shut the hell up!
Cheap teenagers ignoring the debate.
A man trying to hear the debate -- and failing.
Early in the evening, Paul Dewar made an appearance. I saw him, off in the distance, trying to listen to the debates. After a few minutes, I looked again and he was gone. I assume he went somewhere else, where he'd actually be able to hear what was going on.
Because I couldn't hear, I had to make extremely superficial judgments about the debates. Harper looked bizarrely aristocratic, with deep sunk eyes and pale white skin. It almost looked like his face was painted with lead. That wart or mole or beauty mark up near his right eye only needed to be painted black to complete the effect. He looked tired and bored and annoyed. Or maybe I just felt that way and was projecting my feelings on to him?
Straining to make out words, all I got were other leaders looking at Harper with disgust and saying, "Where is your platform?" and "You're out of touch!" and "Like Bush, you're on your way out."
Bizarrely, these echoed the chants I heard earlier, in the streets. Several different groups chanted at the Conservatives, "Yes, Yes, Yes we do! We have a platform, how about you?"
And then there was, "Liberals, Tories -- same old story!"
When the Conservatives started chanting, "Harper! Harper! Harper!" others responded with "Harper, Bush! Harper, Bush!"
It seems that national leaders are just the mob writ large.
Michelle wrote some comments in my notebook, as follows:
***
Michelle is drunk.
Stephane Dion is kind of cute.
Elizabeth May reminds me of a guinea pig.
What does Jack's moustache represent?
Our waitress is anorexic.
I think this bar is violating the fire code!!!
***
The bar just got louder and louder, and trying to listen to the debate became completely pointless. Every time Jack was on the screen, and then finished speaking, someone would cheer. And then everyone in the bar would cheer even though they hadn't been paying attention. Michelle and I played with this for a while -- cheering to set people off. But eventually it stopped working. We would cheer, and no one else would.
I started to get extremely bored, just sitting there. Was I bored enough to stick French fries up my nose? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous.
We paid our bill and left before the debate was even over.
As we took a cab home, I couldn't help but think back to the Conservatives gathering at the Lord Elgin. I imagined they were all listening to debates, actually able to hear it. They were so better organized, and they had such a better space compared to the NDP. Was it a matter of money? I don't think so. The NDP threw quite a bit of cash into chicken wings and zucchini sticks -- free food for gatecrashers. They could have spent the money to rent a better spot.
No, the Conservatives are more dedicated, better organized, and much more passionate. That's why they'll win. They're serious, meeting in a fancy hotel, paying attention. And what are the other parties doing? Meeting in bars, getting drunk, and talking amongst themselves.
(And I actually like the NDP. Imagine what I'd say if I hated them.)
Serious journalist.
This did not happen.
People with signs were clustered around the opening of the driveway leading to the National Arts Centre. The leader debates were about to take place. I would guess there were roughly 200 people, but I suck at math. They yelled and shook signs. If I was a tourist from Belgium -- we managed to meet one passing by -- I would be very confused. I would assume these people were cheering for their favourite sports teams.
"It is a very special night," that tourist said to us in hesitant English. He had one of those guidebooks tucked under his arm. I'm guessing it didn't cover this sort of thing.
"We're not always like this," I said. "We're Canadians. We tend to be very quiet."
If you faced the NAC driveway from across the street, it broke down so symbolically it was almost painful. There was no one on the far left. NDP supporters were clustered mostly on the centre left. The Liberals were on the centre right. Another group of Liberals managed to climb up to an NAC balcony and were yelling down at us from their moral high ground.
The Conservatives were, obviously, on the right, and the far right, and also across the street, quietly watching everyone in an ominous way. The Greens -- and I swear I am not making this up to stretch an already thin metaphor -- were mostly gathered on a traffic island in the middle of the street, vaguely irrelevant, some distance from the rest of the crowd.
One Green supporter was playing the trombone. I have no idea why.
As Michelle and I ran away from the Greens, trying to cross the street, they yelled after us, "Don't get run over! We need your votes!"
There were more Conservatives than anyone else. They were all young white men. Even when they were women, or old, or a dog wearing a tory bandana, they were young white men. Clean and very white, they looked like walking bars of soap. They were extremely passionate and vocal, loving every second of this.
Where other parties are about politics, the Conservatives seem to be more of a personality cult. Everyone else chanted political slogans. All the Conservatives had was, "Harper! Harper! Harper!"
But really, what more did they need?
I was extremely embarrassed when the NDP people started chanting "Sol-sol-sol, solidarite!"
Could they not be communists for even one evening?
The Conservatives were so concerned with law and order that they're quite wimpy. I overheard one woman telling a story to a friend. She repeated something she said to one of the cops: "Officer, they're squishing me!"
I can't help but think what Andrew would say. Andrew, the anarchist, getting tear gassed and throwing himself on to the shields of riot cops. He'd sneer at these Conservative blue bloods.
One tory showed us his sign. NDP supporters had slapped "END THE FEES!" stickers all over it. "NDP intimidation!" he said.
Where are the riot police when you need them?
NDP intimidation.
The Liberals were hardly noticeable, somehow. They were there, but they seemed like Conservatives who were slightly less polished. This made them invisible. At one point I was running around looking for a Liberal to talk to -- any Liberal -- and despite all the signs, I couldn't find one.
The NDP featured a bizarre ragtag group of freaks and weirdoes. And I say this as someone who vaguely supports Jack Layton. One scruffy man looked like he'd been biking past the event and decided to throw in his support. He muttered, "Jack, Jack," quietly to himself.
A chubby little man half-heartedly waved a small cardboard sign at passing traffic. When we asked if we could take his picture, he blushed. "Okay," he said, with mild enthusiasm.
The man who mumbled, "Jack. Jack."
Mildly enthusiastic Layton fan.
There were some more vocal NDP supporters. They lined up along the NAC driveway with their signs. And sign wars broke out -- NDP folks trying to block Conservative signs. The tories had snuck over, trying to steal a bit of ground. A fight nearly broke out, but NDP people rushed forward and pulled the two men apart. Then a guy with a loudspeaker ran over and started chanting, "Out of office, out of here!" Strangely, that seemed to calm things down.
The Conservatives were goon-like. I overhead one Harper fan say to another, "Let's go fuck with the Greens!" and they walked over to the Green traffic Island with their signs at the ready. I imagine the Greens retaliated by playing the trombone.
There was a police presence -- a few cops in reflective vests, mostly directing traffic. But they were hardly necessary. In typical Canadian fashion, we policed ourselves.
Overweight journalist wanna-be.
Several people saw my notebook and said, "Who are you with?"
"He's a blogger!" Michelle yelled helpfully.
"Oh? What blog?"
"Kill Everything!" Michelle yelled.
This received many blank and confused stares, as well as nervous laughter.
One man's response: "I'm guessing you're not a Conservative."
What a bizarre thing to say, given the Conservative readiness to engage in pointless wars.
Eventually I just told people my blog was at nikart.ca. It was easier than trying to explain that "Kill Everything" is a Zen quote from Alan Watts. Watts was explaining the idea behind the phrase, "If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him." Symbolically, this means destroy the idea of a separate you and a separate Buddha. You and he and everything are one. Kill the idea of the other. Do this with all of the things around you. Kill your family, your friends, your pets. In his excitement, Watts blurts out, "Kill everything!"
Now let us never speak of this again.
We knew where the NDP supporters were going to meet up to watch the debates. We had no idea where everyone else was going. So at one point we ran around asking different people where they were headed. It broke down like this:
The NDP -- Hooley's.
The Greens -- The Standard.
The Liberals -- The Fox and Feather.
The Conservatives -- The Lord Elgin.
Reading the list over, it's easy to see which political group is ruling Parliament and is super square. The first three locations are bars. The Lord Elgin is a fancy hotel. By the end of the evening, I was envious of the Conservative's choice of venue.
When we poked our heads in at the Lord Elgin, it was pretty early. Hardly anyone was there. There was a bar out in the hall, and a table set up with coffee and tea. In "The Lady Elgin Room" were chairs in rows facing a big screen TV. A few people were already sitting and listening to the pre-debate news chatter. The room looked so organized, so professional. And so very clean.
Michelle and I helped ourselves to the coffee, and then took pictures of each other drinking it. I whispered childishly, "We're stealing Conservative Coffee!"
An older, wizened, respectable looking gentleman came up for coffee and apologized for getting in the way of our picture taking.
"Not at all," I said. "We're the ones acting silly."
And it felt bad, for a moment, misbehaving in the Lord Elgin hotel.
Tory TV room.
Drinking Conservative Coffee.
Michelle demonstrates the raised pinkie maneuver.
The Liberals were meeting at the Fox and Feather. We walked in, and it was just a bar. A large Penny Colenette sign was upside-down and leaning against the wall. We joked about how shameful this was -- upside-down? Unbelievable! No one paid attention to us.
Nearby were red buckets. For vomiting after the excess of the evening, perhaps? A man in a red tie was sitting by the window. I assumed he was a Liberal.
"Mind if I take your picture?" I asked.
"Uh..." the man said.
"Umm...." said the woman standing next to him.
I snapped the photo. "Thanks!"
Sign and barf buckets.
"Why is that fat man taking our picture?"
The Greens were meeting at the Standard. The outside of the place was plastered with Green signs. At the door was a man, dressed in green, next to a table with Green pins on it. The entire bar seemed to be full of Green supporters, and the atmosphere was one of cool lounge music. These people looked hip, young, sophisticated, and vaguely grungy -- hippies with jobs. They're what I always imagined NDP supporters should look like. That cannot be a good sign for the NDP.
Michelle snapped a few photos.
Green signs stuck on bar windows.
The Green Man.
The NDP were meeting at Hooley's -- where the anorexic bimbo waitresses all wear plaid miniskirts, entirely in keeping with NDP values. Why not just cut to the chase and hold the gathering at a stripjoint?
On top of that, it was not wheelchair accessible. I noticed this because there was an NDP supporter outside, sitting in his electric scooter, obviously pissed off that he couldn't get in to the bar. I see this young handicapped man at nearly every NDP event I go to. He's a big supporter.
What incredible poor planning on the part of the NDP. What idiot chose this bar?
Again, I was struck by the bizarre symbolism of the moment. The NDP came together, in theory, to watch the debate. When we came in, the TV was tuned to a sports channel. They finally turned it to the debate as it was just starting. You couldn't hear much because everyone was talking loudly. I was sitting across the table from Michelle, and we couldn't hear each other, let alone the debates.
Most of the people at our table were young kids who'd seemingly shown up for the free food. Their hands were marked with black Xs to indicate they weren't allowed to drink. They were all drinking water -- evidently too cheap to buy anything. Just using the system for their own ends.
One guy kept going over to a complex-looking sound board, twisting a single knob that changed nothing, shrugging his shoulders, and walking away. I guess he was trying to crank the volume. Early in the evening, a man with a megaphone patiently explained that some of us were there to hear the debates. If you want to talk, please go to the other end of the bar. Everyone fell more or less silent -- for five seconds. Then the chaos resumed.
Michelle and I ordered a pitcher of beer. She asked for a veggie burger, and the waitress came back a few minutes later to tell us they were sold out. They knew the NDP supporters were coming -- why didn't they stock up on the vegetarian food?
Our precious beer.
Please shut the hell up!
Cheap teenagers ignoring the debate.
A man trying to hear the debate -- and failing.
Early in the evening, Paul Dewar made an appearance. I saw him, off in the distance, trying to listen to the debates. After a few minutes, I looked again and he was gone. I assume he went somewhere else, where he'd actually be able to hear what was going on.
Because I couldn't hear, I had to make extremely superficial judgments about the debates. Harper looked bizarrely aristocratic, with deep sunk eyes and pale white skin. It almost looked like his face was painted with lead. That wart or mole or beauty mark up near his right eye only needed to be painted black to complete the effect. He looked tired and bored and annoyed. Or maybe I just felt that way and was projecting my feelings on to him?
Straining to make out words, all I got were other leaders looking at Harper with disgust and saying, "Where is your platform?" and "You're out of touch!" and "Like Bush, you're on your way out."
Bizarrely, these echoed the chants I heard earlier, in the streets. Several different groups chanted at the Conservatives, "Yes, Yes, Yes we do! We have a platform, how about you?"
And then there was, "Liberals, Tories -- same old story!"
When the Conservatives started chanting, "Harper! Harper! Harper!" others responded with "Harper, Bush! Harper, Bush!"
It seems that national leaders are just the mob writ large.
Michelle wrote some comments in my notebook, as follows:
***
Michelle is drunk.
Stephane Dion is kind of cute.
Elizabeth May reminds me of a guinea pig.
What does Jack's moustache represent?
Our waitress is anorexic.
I think this bar is violating the fire code!!!
***
The bar just got louder and louder, and trying to listen to the debate became completely pointless. Every time Jack was on the screen, and then finished speaking, someone would cheer. And then everyone in the bar would cheer even though they hadn't been paying attention. Michelle and I played with this for a while -- cheering to set people off. But eventually it stopped working. We would cheer, and no one else would.
I started to get extremely bored, just sitting there. Was I bored enough to stick French fries up my nose? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous.
We paid our bill and left before the debate was even over.
As we took a cab home, I couldn't help but think back to the Conservatives gathering at the Lord Elgin. I imagined they were all listening to debates, actually able to hear it. They were so better organized, and they had such a better space compared to the NDP. Was it a matter of money? I don't think so. The NDP threw quite a bit of cash into chicken wings and zucchini sticks -- free food for gatecrashers. They could have spent the money to rent a better spot.
No, the Conservatives are more dedicated, better organized, and much more passionate. That's why they'll win. They're serious, meeting in a fancy hotel, paying attention. And what are the other parties doing? Meeting in bars, getting drunk, and talking amongst themselves.
(And I actually like the NDP. Imagine what I'd say if I hated them.)
Serious journalist.
This did not happen.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Let's Swap Genitals!
I recently went to a political debate where GLBT issues were the focus of the evening. At the meeting, Paul Dewar brought up a fact -- twice. The second time he announced dramatically, "I'm going to say this again in case you missed it the first time."
Dewar explained (twice) the oddity of sex change operations in Canada. The military and the RCMP will pay for sex reassignment surgery for their employees. Meanwhile, ordinary members of the public are not covered under healthcare. Dewar argued (and everyone in the room seemed to agree) that this needs to be fixed. Healthcare should cover sex reassignment surgery for all Canadians.
Despite my open mind and socialist leanings, I found myself thinking the inequity could be fixed the other way around -- by having the military and RCMP stop paying for sex change operations. Given the way budget-minded politicians work, this is likely what will happen if any real pressure is put on the government.
Or maybe I'm missing the real lesson here -- if you you're a transsexual person, you should become a mountie or a soldier. They could make it part of the recruitment drive. It certainly puts a new spin on the military jingle, "be all that you can be."
Pondering this issue, I cynically thought people who want this surgery should pay for it themselves. It could serve as additional proof that they're committed to the change. But then I discovered that a woman wanting to become a man could pay up to $80,000 to get a penis.
Who knew penises were so expensive? I find myself gazing at my groin with new found respect.
"It may not be huge, but it would cost you 80 grand to make one like it, baby!"
Of course a single surgery does not a gender transition make. For male-to-females, there's putting in the breasts, making the vagina, hormones, cheekbone surgery, electrolysis, shaving the adam's apple, psychological therapy to make sure you really require this operation in the first place, and on and on. If the government agrees to pay for all this, the price tag is huge.
But I've come up with a cost-cutting measure.
A while back, I read a story about a man whose penis was destroyed in an accident. Doctors in China performed a "penis transplant" using the genitals taken from a man in a coma. The parents of the coma victim agreed to donate the man's penis.
Let's hope the guy never wakes up, because that could be awkward.
"Mom... Dad... You... You gave my dick away to some stranger?! Can I get it back?!"
The accident victim received the prick and did quite well for two weeks. But then the man and his wife asked the donor dick be removed for what the article describes as "psychological reasons". The doctors complied, and the dick was plucked off and, presumably incinerated as medical waste.
"You BURNED it?!"
The article did not mention what these psychological reasons were, but I suspect it had something to do with the creepy feeling of possessing a stranger's willie. There's a case where a man received a hand transplant and asked to have it removed. He called the hand "hideous and withered". It must be very disturbing to stare down at a part of you that is actually a part of someone else.
Ignoring this creepy factor, the possibilities for transsexual people is obvious. Transsexual patients could have penises or vaginas grafted on to them, in much the same way this injured man got a new johnson. It would be cheaper to attach a donor's genitals, instead of constructing a set of genitalia with plastic surgery. And why wait for dead donors? If you could find a male-to-female patient and a female-to-male patient, they could swap junk.
Okay, I'll admit it. This really does sound like the script for a sci fi porn movie. But as a Canadian tax payer, it's a sci fi porn movie I'd be willing to pay for -- as long as I get front row seats at the operating theatre.
I'm sure this is just the kind of innovative thinking the NDP needs to add to their platform. Maybe next time I run into Paul Dewar, I'll tell him all about it. He would be grateful, and bring it up in Parliament.
"I have seen the future, and it's genital swapping! For transsexuals, yes! But also for husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, everyone! Sexism itself will come to an end when a man gets a chance to menstruate for the first time, and a woman can't manage an erection because she had one too many whiskey sours! Fellow Parliamentarians, are you with me?"
And that's how Paul Dewar got kicked out of the NDP, and became a candidate for the Marijuana Party.
Dewar explained (twice) the oddity of sex change operations in Canada. The military and the RCMP will pay for sex reassignment surgery for their employees. Meanwhile, ordinary members of the public are not covered under healthcare. Dewar argued (and everyone in the room seemed to agree) that this needs to be fixed. Healthcare should cover sex reassignment surgery for all Canadians.
Despite my open mind and socialist leanings, I found myself thinking the inequity could be fixed the other way around -- by having the military and RCMP stop paying for sex change operations. Given the way budget-minded politicians work, this is likely what will happen if any real pressure is put on the government.
Or maybe I'm missing the real lesson here -- if you you're a transsexual person, you should become a mountie or a soldier. They could make it part of the recruitment drive. It certainly puts a new spin on the military jingle, "be all that you can be."
Pondering this issue, I cynically thought people who want this surgery should pay for it themselves. It could serve as additional proof that they're committed to the change. But then I discovered that a woman wanting to become a man could pay up to $80,000 to get a penis.
Who knew penises were so expensive? I find myself gazing at my groin with new found respect.
"It may not be huge, but it would cost you 80 grand to make one like it, baby!"
Of course a single surgery does not a gender transition make. For male-to-females, there's putting in the breasts, making the vagina, hormones, cheekbone surgery, electrolysis, shaving the adam's apple, psychological therapy to make sure you really require this operation in the first place, and on and on. If the government agrees to pay for all this, the price tag is huge.
But I've come up with a cost-cutting measure.
A while back, I read a story about a man whose penis was destroyed in an accident. Doctors in China performed a "penis transplant" using the genitals taken from a man in a coma. The parents of the coma victim agreed to donate the man's penis.
Let's hope the guy never wakes up, because that could be awkward.
"Mom... Dad... You... You gave my dick away to some stranger?! Can I get it back?!"
The accident victim received the prick and did quite well for two weeks. But then the man and his wife asked the donor dick be removed for what the article describes as "psychological reasons". The doctors complied, and the dick was plucked off and, presumably incinerated as medical waste.
"You BURNED it?!"
The article did not mention what these psychological reasons were, but I suspect it had something to do with the creepy feeling of possessing a stranger's willie. There's a case where a man received a hand transplant and asked to have it removed. He called the hand "hideous and withered". It must be very disturbing to stare down at a part of you that is actually a part of someone else.
Ignoring this creepy factor, the possibilities for transsexual people is obvious. Transsexual patients could have penises or vaginas grafted on to them, in much the same way this injured man got a new johnson. It would be cheaper to attach a donor's genitals, instead of constructing a set of genitalia with plastic surgery. And why wait for dead donors? If you could find a male-to-female patient and a female-to-male patient, they could swap junk.
Okay, I'll admit it. This really does sound like the script for a sci fi porn movie. But as a Canadian tax payer, it's a sci fi porn movie I'd be willing to pay for -- as long as I get front row seats at the operating theatre.
I'm sure this is just the kind of innovative thinking the NDP needs to add to their platform. Maybe next time I run into Paul Dewar, I'll tell him all about it. He would be grateful, and bring it up in Parliament.
"I have seen the future, and it's genital swapping! For transsexuals, yes! But also for husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, everyone! Sexism itself will come to an end when a man gets a chance to menstruate for the first time, and a woman can't manage an erection because she had one too many whiskey sours! Fellow Parliamentarians, are you with me?"
And that's how Paul Dewar got kicked out of the NDP, and became a candidate for the Marijuana Party.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
John Akpata Does Not Want To Die
All Candidates Meeting, September 30th, 2008
John Akpata -- the Marijuana Party candidate, the poet, the passionate man, the desperate human being -- is yelling directly in my ear. John is talking with Andrew Nellis. Andrew describes himself as "a spokesperson for the Ottawa Panhandler's Union", but it's more realistic to say he's the union's creator.
John is ranting about politics, the cult of personality, playing to the media, and fluoride in the drinking water. We're standing outside the main branch of the Ottawa Public Library at 9 o'clock at night. John is talking with Andrew. But he's leaning close to me. His mouth is literally inches away from my ear. And he's yelling.
Why is he yelling in my ear, I ask myself? And then it dawns on me. I am the media. I am a walking microphone.
Okay, I'm not WITH the media. I'm just a guy who writes stuff for his own amusement on a blog. No one is paying me. I don't even have ads on my webpage. Sometimes I like to think of myself as a journalist, but we live in an era where literally anyone can call themselves that. Sign up for a blog, go to an event, come home, write it up, post it online, and congratulations -- you are now a member of the press.
Mind you I have a sheepskin proudly on display in a drawer somewhere that says I made it through the Creative Writing program at Concordia. For what that's worth.
John knows I'm a writer. He knows I write about these events. "I linked to your blog on my Myspace page," he told me. But it's not that he's using me. I think John just automatically talks into the microphone. And, at that particular moment, I am it.
* * *
In previous years, when trolling these candidate meetings for writing material, I've dragged Andrew along. He works as my shield. Andrew is well over six feet tall. His beard has never been trimmed. All his clothes are black. And the baseball cap he wears features the anarchist symbol and an assortment of buttons mocking the police.
Andrew is imposing, an anarchist, and a trouble-maker. So for my nefarious purposes, I can drag him to an event, drop him in there, watch what happens, and write about it.
This year I've been mostly flying solo, causing my own trouble. But I did want Andrew to come to at least one of these events, just to see what would happen. At first, I invited him to the debate at City Hall.
"I can print up my fliers," he told me over the phone, "and hand them out at the door."
At previous debates, he handed out one page tracts. They read "vote none of the above" and ask what difference it makes which rich lawyer rules over you.
A few hours before the meeting, Andrew called to cancel. "I can't find the data file on my computer," he said. "So I'm not coming tonight. I'll go to the next one, tomorrow."
This was a lame excuse. There were plenty of other reasons to go, besides propaganda distribution.
"Handing out my flier is the only reason I'm going," he said.
I didn't want to argue with him, so we agreed to get together at the next meeting. The event started at 6. I figured I'd be there at 5:30 or so.
"I'll be there at 5," Andrew said, "handing out my fliers."
The next day, Andrew called me an hour before the meeting.
"Are you cancelling?" I asked.
He was going to be late. He would arrive at 6:30.
In the end, he arrived at more like 7:30. But Andrew is a force of nature. Can you ask a tornado to show up on schedule?
* * *
Candidate meetings were once about letting the people talk to the candidates, with the organizers sneaking in a little bit of their own agenda. That's not the case anymore. Now organizers are more aggressive about what they want. They focus entirely on their own agenda, and other issues be damned.
Tuesday night's meeting had two parts -- from 6 until 7:45, the GLBTs were running the show. (That's Gays, Lesbians, Bisexuals, and Transsexuals.) Then, after a fifteen minute break, the unions would have their turn. Specifically, PSAC -- the Public Service Alliance of Canada.
It won't shock you to learn that Brian McGarry didn't bother showing up for these debates. The Conservatives aren't exactly queer and union friendly. What could Brian possibly say to them? He doesn't care about their issues, and he wants both groups to go away.
The GLBT moderator was from Capital Xtra. He explained the proceedings. The three candidates (Penny Colenette, Jen Hunter, and Paul Dewar) would share the stage with four panellists (Nicholas Little, Jay Koornstra, Ariel Troster, and Michael Wiseman). The panellists would each ask two questions on the topics of gay health issues, women's issues, sex worker issues, and human rights issues. The moderator explained this was an opportunity for the candidates to present themselves, but was also a chance for the GLBT community to educate the candidates.
The first question was from Jay, executive director of Bruce House. Gay and bisexual men are still the most likely to get HIV and AIDS. Funding is lax. Would they fight to increase funding?
Of course the politicians all said yes. What else could they say?
Michael Wiseman asked the next question. As it stands now, when a person goes to donate blood or organs, they are confronted with the question "Are you a gay man who has been engaging in unprotected sex?" This is prejudiced against gays. The question should be "Are you a person who engages in unprotected sex?" Would you fight for this issue?
And, again, they all said yes. Paul went so far as to say that it's obviously prejudicial and there isn't even any need to explain why.
I found the contrast between these two questions strange. Yes, the panellists were saying, HIV is still hitting the gay population the hardest. Then they were complaining that the blood donation question was prejudiced for singling out gay men.
I could tell Penny Colenette was struggling to make sense of this too. She hesitantly asked if more young women were contracting HIV? The panellists nodded sagely and said yes, this was the case. Well then, Penny struggled to say, this was also a woman's issue. I think her point was that women are also getting HIV, so the question at blood donation should reflect that -- and use the word "person" and not "gay man".
"Why is it a woman's issue and not a gay man's issue?" one of the panellists asked coldly.
The tone of the question threw Penny off balance. She nervously stammered for a moment, and then said something like, women have issues and we're allowed to talk about them too.
This did not go over well. Mind you, there was no outburst from anyone -- just icy silence.
Several times during this debate, people made reference to stupid things the Conservatives have done, and how it was too bad there was no Conservative present to defend those policies. McGarry was referred to as "the elephant in the room". Without him there, it was a fairly boring debate -- because all of the candidates agreed about everything.
Transsexual rights? Yes. Sex worker rights? Yes. Abortion rights? Yes.
It left me wondering -- why are there the Conservatives on one side, and three parties on the other? Couldn't they unite as one and overthrow the Conservatives and bring about utopia?
After an hour, it was time for the audience to ask questions. There were two microphones set up on either aisle, and people were invited to line up.
There was no rush to the microphones. People trickled up one at a time. I got the feeling they were very nervous. This portion of the evening was entirely devoted to GLBT issues, and the audience was wary of going beyond that scope.
The moderator went so far as to ask one woman, "Is your question GLBT related?" This seemed laughable, because if she wasn't going to ask her question, there were no questions -- unless the moderator or the guy running the soundboard for the microphones could think of something. They each asked questions.
I tend to be a good socialist, a guilty white heterosexual male, who tries to do the right things. But the air was so thick with political correctness I think people were terrified to so much as fart.
After the questions, the debate was declared over and the audience applauded. The moderator noted wryly that this was the first round of applause for the entire evening, and how sedate we all were.
Once again, the room was full of journalism students trying to do their homework. I think there might have been more students than GLBT folk. During the fifteen minute break, these youngsters ran all over the place, tripping over each other, frantically trying to interview people. I heard one young woman earnestly ask:
"Has the debate changed your opinion?"
Textbook questions. Very dull.
* * *
For intermission, let's discuss the great water bottle debacle of Ottawa Centre, 2008.
At the Westboro candidate meeting, a young woman stood up to ask a question about the environment. She noted that everyone was drinking bottled water -- except Paul Dewar, who had brought his own container. Mind you, the candidates were provided bottled water by the event organizers. But Paul had rejected the bottled water, in favour of his own container of tap water.
You may not be aware of this, but environmentally friendly types are on the warpath against bottled water. Our tap water is clean enough. Bottling water, shipping it, using plastic containers, recycling them -- it's all very bad for our planet. Don't do it.
Paul dismissed the issue as one of "optics", but simultaneously managed to look a little smug. He's NDP. He can't help it.
Jen Hunter was particularly embarrassed by this gaffe. She mentioned she had a container -- green, of course -- and it was in her purse, somewhere. She promised she wouldn't let this error happen again.
Penny Colenette said pretty much the same thing. She was equally embarrassed.
Brian McGarry didn't say anything about it, because Conservatives foolishly believe that worrying about bottled water is insane.
At Tuesday's meeting, I'm pleased to report, Jen, Penny, and Paul all had their own water containers. They ignored the bottled water the GLBT people had brought them.
During the debates, Paul managed to drink all his water, and ran off to fill it during intermission.
"I have some bottled water," one of the organizers said, offering it to him.
Paul hesitated, then turned him down. He said it was a bit of a neurotic thing for him. "And I have to go to the bathroom anyway."
Plus who knows who might be watching, pen in hand, recording all of this? Everyone is a potential journalist!
* * *
PSAC had a mere 45 minutes, so they weren't farting around. The moderator would ask all the questions, and the candidates could respond. But first, they would be allowed two minutes to introduce themselves.
Paul Dewar had brought a chart. He apologized for the visual, but explained jokingly, "I'm a teacher." He held up the chart, and all the journalism students started frantically snapping pictures.
I would have too, but I forgot my camera. Some journalist I turn out to be.
The chart showed how the government had been hiring more and more temporary workers. This was entirely unacceptable, Paul said. Do you want a meat inspector who is merely a temp, or one who is committed to the job?
The moderator looked so pleased I thought she might swoon. This baffled me -- until she asked her first question, which could be summarized as follows:
Do you want a strong public service workforce, and are you against the excess use of temps?
All the candidates said yes, and yes. Paul had to repeat his opening statements.
The second question the moderator asked could be summarized as:
Do you want a strong public service workforce, and are you against the excess use of temps?
Seriously. The questions were the typical long-winded drivel I've come to expect. When you scraped off all the decorative icing, it was literally the same piece of cake.
I got my things together, found Andrew, and suggested we leave. I really did not want to hear the same question asked over and over again for 45 minutes.
* * *
Andrew and I were chatting outside the library, when John Akpata strolled up to us. We'd both met him before, and he shook our hands.
"Is the debate over?" he asked. When we told him yes, he looked disappointed.
"How come you weren't in there?" Andrew demanded.
"I wasn't invited," John said.
We asked John why he didn't just show up anyway -- something he'd done in the past. John launched into a long rant about how he's tired of being entertaining, playing the clown, being oppressed and at the same time being expected to show up at these things and beg for stage time. Besides, he just filmed an ad with CBC TV and it was going to be broadcast nation-wide. Why bother with these piddly little debates (and be seen by maybe 8,000 people) when he can go on TV (and be seen by 80,000 people)?
It only struck me later that something John said didn't make sense. He said he wasn't crashing the debate -- that old game was boring him -- and yet here he was, showing up for the debate, disappointed that it was over. So, uh, why was he here?
As we stood around, chatting, the debates ended and people started to leave. Penny Colenette came out with a few Liberal supporters, and walked by. John turned to her and smiled or waved, but she didn't appear to see him and just kept on going.
"They don't even make eye-contact," John said with a snarl.
"During the debates she mentioned she was having back trouble," I said. "Maybe she's on drugs. Strong painkillers or something. Actually, I'm really concerned about her. I think she's going to need an intervention."
"Uh huh," John said, not amused by my banter. He told me he'd smoked pot every day for many years now, so I figured he would be amused. But it seemed that Penny's snub -- intentional or not -- wounded him.
Paul Dewar came out next, and John sidled up to him. They shook hands.
"Did you see that?" I asked Andrew. "They both automatically shook hands at an angle, instead of head on, as if they were posing for a camera that isn't there."
John whispered something to Paul, and Paul's eyes grew big and he smiled nervously.
"You're just trying to make me paranoid!" he said, laughing.
Paul left shortly after that. John came over and explained that he'd just told Paul that there were people working in his NDP HQ that couldn't be trusted -- that they were Conservative plants. John mentioned a particular conservative politician, and said, "His son is working for Paul Dewar."
"That doesn't mean anything," I said. "A son often rebels against his father. Dad's conservative, so the son becomes NDP."
"Really?" John said, like I was so incredibly naive. "Really? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
"If you met my parents, you'd be stunned," I insisted. "I'm nothing like my parents."
"Really?" John said again.
We chatted some more, and then Jen Hunter, her husband, and two young Green volunteers came out of the library. Jen came over to talk to us, looking happy and a little tired.
"Why weren't you in there?" she asked John, which caused him to launch once more into his rant about how he wasn't invited, how he's doing a TV commercial, better exposure, etc.
"The GLBT people didn't invite you?" Jen asked, incredulous.
John explained that he used to write for the Xpress, and that Capital Xtra was hosting these GLBT debates. He claimed that there was a conspiracy against him -- that the people at Capital Xtra had been told not to mention the name John Akpata in print. It sounded pretty crazy.
But we need you in there, Jen insisted. "You raise the bar."
And it's true -- when John Akpata is on stage, he changes the mood of the room. The politicians are forced to play their best game. John wakes them up, bringing passion into the discussion.
But John was having none of that tonight. He said the next event he was attending was the debate in the Glebe. This surprised Jen, until something clicked for her.
"You want an audience," she said.
And that was pretty much it. The venue in Westboro was big. The Glebe debates always draw big crowds. The library gig? Small potatoes.
I thought it funny. What do the Marijuana Party and the Conservative party have in common? John Akpata and Brian McGarry snubbed the GLBT and union crowd. Was Brian McGarry somewhere on Tuesday night, complaining about a conspiracy of gays and unions out to get him?
John was dancing verbally, simultaneously bragging about his prowess and complaining about his oppressors. "You know what someone called me? 'Wikipedia wandering the earth'." He dazzles the candidates with facts, he said. Boom, boom, boom -- the statistics come out of him like magic.
I'd actually read that article. An acquaintance of mine, Kady O'Malley had written it.
Something about John reading his own press and quoting it to us struck me as depressing. Jen reacted in such a way that it was obvious she'd read Kady's article too. But it wasn't like Jen was quoting it to us proudly.
Jen jokingly hinted John should come work for the Greens.
Why would I? John wanted to know. "You stole our platform." John said he once joked that Canada should legalize pot and use the money to pay for the military. Now Elizabeth May, the Green leader, says that and she's serious. The Greens stole the Marijuana Party platform, John insisted.
John demanded, "Which party came first, the Greens or the Marijuana Party?"
Jen blinked for a moment and then admitted, "I don't know."
John laughed, rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and said, "She doesn't know!" a few times.
Jen didn't look embarrassed or flustered, but I could tell she found John's reaction a little childish. "What?" she said. "I admit I don't know." No one ever called her Wikipedia made flesh, she joked.
"Look it up," John insisted.
"Why don't you just tell me?" Jen asked.
John was having none of that. "Look it up."
"I don't think John knows either," I said helpfully.
"Look it up," John repeated, perhaps a little annoyed at my dampening of his thunder.
"I'll look it up if you will," Jen said, all smiles.
At one point John demanded, "Why is there fluoride in the drinking water?"
Jen looked at him and blinked, with some disbelief.
John asked the question again. "Why is there fluoride in the drinking water?"
"The same reason there's iodine in salt," Andrew said. People need the substance, and it was a way of delivering it.
"Then why isn't there vitamins in tap water?" John wanted to know. And again, he repeated his question, "Why is there fluoride in drinking water?"
"I'm betting the answer has something to do with mind control," I joked.
Turned out I was right. John argued that fluoride was in the water to weaken human minds. The Nazis used it in experiments, he claimed, to brainwash people.
"At what levels?" Jen asked.
Not that high, John said.
The expression on Jen Hunter's face had changed. Up until now, she'd been talking to John as an equal. This fluoride talk was making her nervous. Was John teasing her? Or did he genuinely believe in a fluoride conspiracy? Was he crazy? She looked saddened.
I don't think John noticed this change in her. Or if he did, he didn't care.
In the middle of our rambling, demented conversation, I introduced Jen to Andrew. I told her about Andrew and the Ottawa Panhandler's Union. Andrew pointed out to her that she has an upward lilt sometimes, when she speaks -- that inflection that makes everything sound like a question.
"It makes you sound like you lack confidence," Andrew said.
Jen looked a little embarrassed. "I know," she said.
Andrew tried to lecture her some more, but I interrupted him. "People have told her that, and it's something she's trying to change, but she's finding it difficult."
Jen nodded. "Also I tend to start a lot of sentences with the word 'so'."
Andrew asked Jen if people really required representatives for them in a democracy. Why not have direct, personal representation? He was lecturing Jen about anarchy.
I can't remember what Andrew said that struck me as particularly crazy, but at one point I looked to John Akpata on my right, Andrew Nellis on my left, and I jokingly pleaded, "Can I go stand over there, with the Greens now?"
Everyone laughed. Frankly, I'm not sure I was joking.
Several times, Jen said she'd had a long day and had to leave. But then Andrew or John would say something interesting and she'd get sucked back into the conversation. This happened at least three times.
Andrew finally said to Jen, "Look -- John and I are crazy. We have nowhere else to go. We'll keep you here all night. If you really want to go home you're just going to have to walk away."
Jen took that as her cue. Smiling, she bid us goodnight, and left.
Before she was even ten feet away, John started tearing Jen Hunter apart. She's the Green Party candidate? John sneered. "She dyes her hair and wears make up!" Plus she was going to drive a car home!
I don't have a car, Andrew said.
Neither do I, John said proudly.
You used to have a car, Andrew pointed out.
That's right, John admitted. He'd sold it for weed. Really good weed, as he recalled.
John had to sell his car because they'd taken his license taken away.
The way John tells it, it happened like this. Once upon a time, a cop pulled John over for no reason. He ordered John to get out of the car. And then the cop drew his gun on him. He was guilty for driving while black.
So John decided not to pay any of his parking tickets. And he decided not to pay for the little sticker on his licence plate. And he stopped paying for his car insurance.
After all, the money for those things was used to pay for his own oppression. And John was not going to pay for his own oppression.
When he next got pulled over, he was charged with driving without insurance, and lost his licence. Or something like that.
The logic struck me as beyond goofy. But John seemed completely serious.
It's often hard to tell whether John himself believes the things he was saying. He'd spin a fantastic tale and then five seconds later contradict himself.
For example, I asked John why he bothers to participate in the political process at all. There's no chance of him getting elected. He claims he doesn't want to entertain the politicians. There really doesn't seem to be any point to what he was doing.
John slapped me on the shoulder and said proudly, "Exactly!"
So it seemed that on some level John saw the whole thing as pointless -- a hissing existential nothing. Was he just there to amuse himself?
Not at all. "Being able to vote for myself in the federal election was one of the proudest moments in my life," he said.
"The proudest moment of my life was when I went to jail," Andrew responded.
Andrew went to jail for trying to cut a lock off a gate. There's a fence under the bridge near the Rideau Centre. That fence was installed specifically to keep homeless kids from sleeping there.
After spending five days in jail, the charges were dropped. Andrew was extremely disappointed. He is a martyr wanna-be. He thrives on adversity and suffering. From his perspective, you know you're doing your job when the police hassle you and assassins try to shoot you.
John Akpata simultaneously agreed and disagreed -- an amazing thing to see. Because he never said, "You're wrong," and he never said, "You're right." Instead he said both and neither, and something else altogether.
Andrew mentioned Malcolm X. He offered up Huey Newton. And John agreed they were great men, while simultaneously discounting their influence upon himself.
What I got from his very complex response was that John Akpata doesn't want to die. He is no martyr. But he didn't want to say as much to Andrew, because Andrew so obviously wants to be martyred. Andrew is perpetually depressed due to lack of gunfire in his direction.
A few minutes later, John totally contradicted himself. He was running as a Marijuana Party candidate for "exposure". For the last seven years, all of his income tax returns he filed were below the poverty line. But he lived that way by choice, he said. A long time ago he decided no one was going to tell him how to live. No one tells him to cut his hair, shave his beard, how to dress, etc.
With the political game, he was going to get exposure, sell some poetry books, sell some CDs, gain some influence. He would pay off his debts and fines. Then he would approach the Green Party and the NDP and offer to run for them.
Both Andrew and I boggled at this. Was this the same man who, that very evening, openly mocked the Green Party and the NDP? Who mocked the political process as a whole?
Andrew and John continued to argue and rant and rave. They would probably be standing outside the Ottawa Public Library for hours. Suddenly it dawned on me that Andrew wasn't joking when he said that he and John were crazy.
Andrew dropped another nugget of madness -- I'm not even going to tell you what it is, because it was so crazy and dangerous that it should not be committed to text.
I jumped up. "That's it," I announced. "I'm going home."
Andrew laughed.
The two of them bid me goodnight, then launched back into their conversation.
I ran off to bed.
John Akpata -- the Marijuana Party candidate, the poet, the passionate man, the desperate human being -- is yelling directly in my ear. John is talking with Andrew Nellis. Andrew describes himself as "a spokesperson for the Ottawa Panhandler's Union", but it's more realistic to say he's the union's creator.
John is ranting about politics, the cult of personality, playing to the media, and fluoride in the drinking water. We're standing outside the main branch of the Ottawa Public Library at 9 o'clock at night. John is talking with Andrew. But he's leaning close to me. His mouth is literally inches away from my ear. And he's yelling.
Why is he yelling in my ear, I ask myself? And then it dawns on me. I am the media. I am a walking microphone.
Okay, I'm not WITH the media. I'm just a guy who writes stuff for his own amusement on a blog. No one is paying me. I don't even have ads on my webpage. Sometimes I like to think of myself as a journalist, but we live in an era where literally anyone can call themselves that. Sign up for a blog, go to an event, come home, write it up, post it online, and congratulations -- you are now a member of the press.
Mind you I have a sheepskin proudly on display in a drawer somewhere that says I made it through the Creative Writing program at Concordia. For what that's worth.
John knows I'm a writer. He knows I write about these events. "I linked to your blog on my Myspace page," he told me. But it's not that he's using me. I think John just automatically talks into the microphone. And, at that particular moment, I am it.
* * *
In previous years, when trolling these candidate meetings for writing material, I've dragged Andrew along. He works as my shield. Andrew is well over six feet tall. His beard has never been trimmed. All his clothes are black. And the baseball cap he wears features the anarchist symbol and an assortment of buttons mocking the police.
Andrew is imposing, an anarchist, and a trouble-maker. So for my nefarious purposes, I can drag him to an event, drop him in there, watch what happens, and write about it.
This year I've been mostly flying solo, causing my own trouble. But I did want Andrew to come to at least one of these events, just to see what would happen. At first, I invited him to the debate at City Hall.
"I can print up my fliers," he told me over the phone, "and hand them out at the door."
At previous debates, he handed out one page tracts. They read "vote none of the above" and ask what difference it makes which rich lawyer rules over you.
A few hours before the meeting, Andrew called to cancel. "I can't find the data file on my computer," he said. "So I'm not coming tonight. I'll go to the next one, tomorrow."
This was a lame excuse. There were plenty of other reasons to go, besides propaganda distribution.
"Handing out my flier is the only reason I'm going," he said.
I didn't want to argue with him, so we agreed to get together at the next meeting. The event started at 6. I figured I'd be there at 5:30 or so.
"I'll be there at 5," Andrew said, "handing out my fliers."
The next day, Andrew called me an hour before the meeting.
"Are you cancelling?" I asked.
He was going to be late. He would arrive at 6:30.
In the end, he arrived at more like 7:30. But Andrew is a force of nature. Can you ask a tornado to show up on schedule?
* * *
Candidate meetings were once about letting the people talk to the candidates, with the organizers sneaking in a little bit of their own agenda. That's not the case anymore. Now organizers are more aggressive about what they want. They focus entirely on their own agenda, and other issues be damned.
Tuesday night's meeting had two parts -- from 6 until 7:45, the GLBTs were running the show. (That's Gays, Lesbians, Bisexuals, and Transsexuals.) Then, after a fifteen minute break, the unions would have their turn. Specifically, PSAC -- the Public Service Alliance of Canada.
It won't shock you to learn that Brian McGarry didn't bother showing up for these debates. The Conservatives aren't exactly queer and union friendly. What could Brian possibly say to them? He doesn't care about their issues, and he wants both groups to go away.
The GLBT moderator was from Capital Xtra. He explained the proceedings. The three candidates (Penny Colenette, Jen Hunter, and Paul Dewar) would share the stage with four panellists (Nicholas Little, Jay Koornstra, Ariel Troster, and Michael Wiseman). The panellists would each ask two questions on the topics of gay health issues, women's issues, sex worker issues, and human rights issues. The moderator explained this was an opportunity for the candidates to present themselves, but was also a chance for the GLBT community to educate the candidates.
The first question was from Jay, executive director of Bruce House. Gay and bisexual men are still the most likely to get HIV and AIDS. Funding is lax. Would they fight to increase funding?
Of course the politicians all said yes. What else could they say?
Michael Wiseman asked the next question. As it stands now, when a person goes to donate blood or organs, they are confronted with the question "Are you a gay man who has been engaging in unprotected sex?" This is prejudiced against gays. The question should be "Are you a person who engages in unprotected sex?" Would you fight for this issue?
And, again, they all said yes. Paul went so far as to say that it's obviously prejudicial and there isn't even any need to explain why.
I found the contrast between these two questions strange. Yes, the panellists were saying, HIV is still hitting the gay population the hardest. Then they were complaining that the blood donation question was prejudiced for singling out gay men.
I could tell Penny Colenette was struggling to make sense of this too. She hesitantly asked if more young women were contracting HIV? The panellists nodded sagely and said yes, this was the case. Well then, Penny struggled to say, this was also a woman's issue. I think her point was that women are also getting HIV, so the question at blood donation should reflect that -- and use the word "person" and not "gay man".
"Why is it a woman's issue and not a gay man's issue?" one of the panellists asked coldly.
The tone of the question threw Penny off balance. She nervously stammered for a moment, and then said something like, women have issues and we're allowed to talk about them too.
This did not go over well. Mind you, there was no outburst from anyone -- just icy silence.
Several times during this debate, people made reference to stupid things the Conservatives have done, and how it was too bad there was no Conservative present to defend those policies. McGarry was referred to as "the elephant in the room". Without him there, it was a fairly boring debate -- because all of the candidates agreed about everything.
Transsexual rights? Yes. Sex worker rights? Yes. Abortion rights? Yes.
It left me wondering -- why are there the Conservatives on one side, and three parties on the other? Couldn't they unite as one and overthrow the Conservatives and bring about utopia?
After an hour, it was time for the audience to ask questions. There were two microphones set up on either aisle, and people were invited to line up.
There was no rush to the microphones. People trickled up one at a time. I got the feeling they were very nervous. This portion of the evening was entirely devoted to GLBT issues, and the audience was wary of going beyond that scope.
The moderator went so far as to ask one woman, "Is your question GLBT related?" This seemed laughable, because if she wasn't going to ask her question, there were no questions -- unless the moderator or the guy running the soundboard for the microphones could think of something. They each asked questions.
I tend to be a good socialist, a guilty white heterosexual male, who tries to do the right things. But the air was so thick with political correctness I think people were terrified to so much as fart.
After the questions, the debate was declared over and the audience applauded. The moderator noted wryly that this was the first round of applause for the entire evening, and how sedate we all were.
Once again, the room was full of journalism students trying to do their homework. I think there might have been more students than GLBT folk. During the fifteen minute break, these youngsters ran all over the place, tripping over each other, frantically trying to interview people. I heard one young woman earnestly ask:
"Has the debate changed your opinion?"
Textbook questions. Very dull.
* * *
For intermission, let's discuss the great water bottle debacle of Ottawa Centre, 2008.
At the Westboro candidate meeting, a young woman stood up to ask a question about the environment. She noted that everyone was drinking bottled water -- except Paul Dewar, who had brought his own container. Mind you, the candidates were provided bottled water by the event organizers. But Paul had rejected the bottled water, in favour of his own container of tap water.
You may not be aware of this, but environmentally friendly types are on the warpath against bottled water. Our tap water is clean enough. Bottling water, shipping it, using plastic containers, recycling them -- it's all very bad for our planet. Don't do it.
Paul dismissed the issue as one of "optics", but simultaneously managed to look a little smug. He's NDP. He can't help it.
Jen Hunter was particularly embarrassed by this gaffe. She mentioned she had a container -- green, of course -- and it was in her purse, somewhere. She promised she wouldn't let this error happen again.
Penny Colenette said pretty much the same thing. She was equally embarrassed.
Brian McGarry didn't say anything about it, because Conservatives foolishly believe that worrying about bottled water is insane.
At Tuesday's meeting, I'm pleased to report, Jen, Penny, and Paul all had their own water containers. They ignored the bottled water the GLBT people had brought them.
During the debates, Paul managed to drink all his water, and ran off to fill it during intermission.
"I have some bottled water," one of the organizers said, offering it to him.
Paul hesitated, then turned him down. He said it was a bit of a neurotic thing for him. "And I have to go to the bathroom anyway."
Plus who knows who might be watching, pen in hand, recording all of this? Everyone is a potential journalist!
* * *
PSAC had a mere 45 minutes, so they weren't farting around. The moderator would ask all the questions, and the candidates could respond. But first, they would be allowed two minutes to introduce themselves.
Paul Dewar had brought a chart. He apologized for the visual, but explained jokingly, "I'm a teacher." He held up the chart, and all the journalism students started frantically snapping pictures.
I would have too, but I forgot my camera. Some journalist I turn out to be.
The chart showed how the government had been hiring more and more temporary workers. This was entirely unacceptable, Paul said. Do you want a meat inspector who is merely a temp, or one who is committed to the job?
The moderator looked so pleased I thought she might swoon. This baffled me -- until she asked her first question, which could be summarized as follows:
Do you want a strong public service workforce, and are you against the excess use of temps?
All the candidates said yes, and yes. Paul had to repeat his opening statements.
The second question the moderator asked could be summarized as:
Do you want a strong public service workforce, and are you against the excess use of temps?
Seriously. The questions were the typical long-winded drivel I've come to expect. When you scraped off all the decorative icing, it was literally the same piece of cake.
I got my things together, found Andrew, and suggested we leave. I really did not want to hear the same question asked over and over again for 45 minutes.
* * *
Andrew and I were chatting outside the library, when John Akpata strolled up to us. We'd both met him before, and he shook our hands.
"Is the debate over?" he asked. When we told him yes, he looked disappointed.
"How come you weren't in there?" Andrew demanded.
"I wasn't invited," John said.
We asked John why he didn't just show up anyway -- something he'd done in the past. John launched into a long rant about how he's tired of being entertaining, playing the clown, being oppressed and at the same time being expected to show up at these things and beg for stage time. Besides, he just filmed an ad with CBC TV and it was going to be broadcast nation-wide. Why bother with these piddly little debates (and be seen by maybe 8,000 people) when he can go on TV (and be seen by 80,000 people)?
It only struck me later that something John said didn't make sense. He said he wasn't crashing the debate -- that old game was boring him -- and yet here he was, showing up for the debate, disappointed that it was over. So, uh, why was he here?
As we stood around, chatting, the debates ended and people started to leave. Penny Colenette came out with a few Liberal supporters, and walked by. John turned to her and smiled or waved, but she didn't appear to see him and just kept on going.
"They don't even make eye-contact," John said with a snarl.
"During the debates she mentioned she was having back trouble," I said. "Maybe she's on drugs. Strong painkillers or something. Actually, I'm really concerned about her. I think she's going to need an intervention."
"Uh huh," John said, not amused by my banter. He told me he'd smoked pot every day for many years now, so I figured he would be amused. But it seemed that Penny's snub -- intentional or not -- wounded him.
Paul Dewar came out next, and John sidled up to him. They shook hands.
"Did you see that?" I asked Andrew. "They both automatically shook hands at an angle, instead of head on, as if they were posing for a camera that isn't there."
John whispered something to Paul, and Paul's eyes grew big and he smiled nervously.
"You're just trying to make me paranoid!" he said, laughing.
Paul left shortly after that. John came over and explained that he'd just told Paul that there were people working in his NDP HQ that couldn't be trusted -- that they were Conservative plants. John mentioned a particular conservative politician, and said, "His son is working for Paul Dewar."
"That doesn't mean anything," I said. "A son often rebels against his father. Dad's conservative, so the son becomes NDP."
"Really?" John said, like I was so incredibly naive. "Really? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
"If you met my parents, you'd be stunned," I insisted. "I'm nothing like my parents."
"Really?" John said again.
We chatted some more, and then Jen Hunter, her husband, and two young Green volunteers came out of the library. Jen came over to talk to us, looking happy and a little tired.
"Why weren't you in there?" she asked John, which caused him to launch once more into his rant about how he wasn't invited, how he's doing a TV commercial, better exposure, etc.
"The GLBT people didn't invite you?" Jen asked, incredulous.
John explained that he used to write for the Xpress, and that Capital Xtra was hosting these GLBT debates. He claimed that there was a conspiracy against him -- that the people at Capital Xtra had been told not to mention the name John Akpata in print. It sounded pretty crazy.
But we need you in there, Jen insisted. "You raise the bar."
And it's true -- when John Akpata is on stage, he changes the mood of the room. The politicians are forced to play their best game. John wakes them up, bringing passion into the discussion.
But John was having none of that tonight. He said the next event he was attending was the debate in the Glebe. This surprised Jen, until something clicked for her.
"You want an audience," she said.
And that was pretty much it. The venue in Westboro was big. The Glebe debates always draw big crowds. The library gig? Small potatoes.
I thought it funny. What do the Marijuana Party and the Conservative party have in common? John Akpata and Brian McGarry snubbed the GLBT and union crowd. Was Brian McGarry somewhere on Tuesday night, complaining about a conspiracy of gays and unions out to get him?
John was dancing verbally, simultaneously bragging about his prowess and complaining about his oppressors. "You know what someone called me? 'Wikipedia wandering the earth'." He dazzles the candidates with facts, he said. Boom, boom, boom -- the statistics come out of him like magic.
I'd actually read that article. An acquaintance of mine, Kady O'Malley had written it.
Something about John reading his own press and quoting it to us struck me as depressing. Jen reacted in such a way that it was obvious she'd read Kady's article too. But it wasn't like Jen was quoting it to us proudly.
Jen jokingly hinted John should come work for the Greens.
Why would I? John wanted to know. "You stole our platform." John said he once joked that Canada should legalize pot and use the money to pay for the military. Now Elizabeth May, the Green leader, says that and she's serious. The Greens stole the Marijuana Party platform, John insisted.
John demanded, "Which party came first, the Greens or the Marijuana Party?"
Jen blinked for a moment and then admitted, "I don't know."
John laughed, rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and said, "She doesn't know!" a few times.
Jen didn't look embarrassed or flustered, but I could tell she found John's reaction a little childish. "What?" she said. "I admit I don't know." No one ever called her Wikipedia made flesh, she joked.
"Look it up," John insisted.
"Why don't you just tell me?" Jen asked.
John was having none of that. "Look it up."
"I don't think John knows either," I said helpfully.
"Look it up," John repeated, perhaps a little annoyed at my dampening of his thunder.
"I'll look it up if you will," Jen said, all smiles.
At one point John demanded, "Why is there fluoride in the drinking water?"
Jen looked at him and blinked, with some disbelief.
John asked the question again. "Why is there fluoride in the drinking water?"
"The same reason there's iodine in salt," Andrew said. People need the substance, and it was a way of delivering it.
"Then why isn't there vitamins in tap water?" John wanted to know. And again, he repeated his question, "Why is there fluoride in drinking water?"
"I'm betting the answer has something to do with mind control," I joked.
Turned out I was right. John argued that fluoride was in the water to weaken human minds. The Nazis used it in experiments, he claimed, to brainwash people.
"At what levels?" Jen asked.
Not that high, John said.
The expression on Jen Hunter's face had changed. Up until now, she'd been talking to John as an equal. This fluoride talk was making her nervous. Was John teasing her? Or did he genuinely believe in a fluoride conspiracy? Was he crazy? She looked saddened.
I don't think John noticed this change in her. Or if he did, he didn't care.
In the middle of our rambling, demented conversation, I introduced Jen to Andrew. I told her about Andrew and the Ottawa Panhandler's Union. Andrew pointed out to her that she has an upward lilt sometimes, when she speaks -- that inflection that makes everything sound like a question.
"It makes you sound like you lack confidence," Andrew said.
Jen looked a little embarrassed. "I know," she said.
Andrew tried to lecture her some more, but I interrupted him. "People have told her that, and it's something she's trying to change, but she's finding it difficult."
Jen nodded. "Also I tend to start a lot of sentences with the word 'so'."
Andrew asked Jen if people really required representatives for them in a democracy. Why not have direct, personal representation? He was lecturing Jen about anarchy.
I can't remember what Andrew said that struck me as particularly crazy, but at one point I looked to John Akpata on my right, Andrew Nellis on my left, and I jokingly pleaded, "Can I go stand over there, with the Greens now?"
Everyone laughed. Frankly, I'm not sure I was joking.
Several times, Jen said she'd had a long day and had to leave. But then Andrew or John would say something interesting and she'd get sucked back into the conversation. This happened at least three times.
Andrew finally said to Jen, "Look -- John and I are crazy. We have nowhere else to go. We'll keep you here all night. If you really want to go home you're just going to have to walk away."
Jen took that as her cue. Smiling, she bid us goodnight, and left.
Before she was even ten feet away, John started tearing Jen Hunter apart. She's the Green Party candidate? John sneered. "She dyes her hair and wears make up!" Plus she was going to drive a car home!
I don't have a car, Andrew said.
Neither do I, John said proudly.
You used to have a car, Andrew pointed out.
That's right, John admitted. He'd sold it for weed. Really good weed, as he recalled.
John had to sell his car because they'd taken his license taken away.
The way John tells it, it happened like this. Once upon a time, a cop pulled John over for no reason. He ordered John to get out of the car. And then the cop drew his gun on him. He was guilty for driving while black.
So John decided not to pay any of his parking tickets. And he decided not to pay for the little sticker on his licence plate. And he stopped paying for his car insurance.
After all, the money for those things was used to pay for his own oppression. And John was not going to pay for his own oppression.
When he next got pulled over, he was charged with driving without insurance, and lost his licence. Or something like that.
The logic struck me as beyond goofy. But John seemed completely serious.
It's often hard to tell whether John himself believes the things he was saying. He'd spin a fantastic tale and then five seconds later contradict himself.
For example, I asked John why he bothers to participate in the political process at all. There's no chance of him getting elected. He claims he doesn't want to entertain the politicians. There really doesn't seem to be any point to what he was doing.
John slapped me on the shoulder and said proudly, "Exactly!"
So it seemed that on some level John saw the whole thing as pointless -- a hissing existential nothing. Was he just there to amuse himself?
Not at all. "Being able to vote for myself in the federal election was one of the proudest moments in my life," he said.
"The proudest moment of my life was when I went to jail," Andrew responded.
Andrew went to jail for trying to cut a lock off a gate. There's a fence under the bridge near the Rideau Centre. That fence was installed specifically to keep homeless kids from sleeping there.
After spending five days in jail, the charges were dropped. Andrew was extremely disappointed. He is a martyr wanna-be. He thrives on adversity and suffering. From his perspective, you know you're doing your job when the police hassle you and assassins try to shoot you.
John Akpata simultaneously agreed and disagreed -- an amazing thing to see. Because he never said, "You're wrong," and he never said, "You're right." Instead he said both and neither, and something else altogether.
Andrew mentioned Malcolm X. He offered up Huey Newton. And John agreed they were great men, while simultaneously discounting their influence upon himself.
What I got from his very complex response was that John Akpata doesn't want to die. He is no martyr. But he didn't want to say as much to Andrew, because Andrew so obviously wants to be martyred. Andrew is perpetually depressed due to lack of gunfire in his direction.
A few minutes later, John totally contradicted himself. He was running as a Marijuana Party candidate for "exposure". For the last seven years, all of his income tax returns he filed were below the poverty line. But he lived that way by choice, he said. A long time ago he decided no one was going to tell him how to live. No one tells him to cut his hair, shave his beard, how to dress, etc.
With the political game, he was going to get exposure, sell some poetry books, sell some CDs, gain some influence. He would pay off his debts and fines. Then he would approach the Green Party and the NDP and offer to run for them.
Both Andrew and I boggled at this. Was this the same man who, that very evening, openly mocked the Green Party and the NDP? Who mocked the political process as a whole?
Andrew and John continued to argue and rant and rave. They would probably be standing outside the Ottawa Public Library for hours. Suddenly it dawned on me that Andrew wasn't joking when he said that he and John were crazy.
Andrew dropped another nugget of madness -- I'm not even going to tell you what it is, because it was so crazy and dangerous that it should not be committed to text.
I jumped up. "That's it," I announced. "I'm going home."
Andrew laughed.
The two of them bid me goodnight, then launched back into their conversation.
I ran off to bed.
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