1 PM: I’m not much on religion, but I sure as hell believe in Judgment Day and I’ll be damned if this don’t look like it. So I’ll be live-bloggin’ by longhand. The typesetter should have it by first post!
3 PM: It’s true, we cry “Lock her up!” Wynne, Horwath, Renata; we’re not fussy. Unlike the radical far-centrists and the elites with their Grade 12 equivalency diplomas, we just want to see a strong man turn back the clock, if not the calendar, and run roughshod over all these delicate constitutions. Yours, Canada’s, whatever. Again: not fussy.
Is that too much to ask? Well it don’t matter. Nobody asked you.
5 PM: Like always I voted at the local nursin’ home, which is nice for catchin’ up with the like-minded infirm and demented. An’ what a treat to see the odd young person line-up, an’ do the arithmetic in my head to see how much we got ’em outnumbered.
Until they start puttin’ pollin’ places in skate shops and weed dispensaries I’d say we got this!
Well I done the deed so now all there’s left to do is drink. Like a normal grown-up I can’t wait until Doug brings back buck a beer.
9:15: Well that didn’t take long. Maybe American Pickers is on. That’d just about make this day perfect.
I don’t even know why Steve Paikin’s still on the air. Vic Fedeli oughta escort him off TVO property so Doug can sell the studio to some Internet porn job creator. (Y’know, I bet that’d be a good line of work for Randy, now the family business is in the shitter.)
Dougie must feel like a kid in a candy store with a can of gasoline and a Zippo. And Rob must be lookin’ down smilin’, ’cause that’s what dead people do.
There’s only four years to whip this province into shape so it could pass for the State of Mississippi, but there’s so many exciting efficiencies to find. I’d recommend startin’ with the Office of the Integrity Commissioner. Small potatoes, maybe, but I bet it’ll save Mr Ford a lot of grief down the road.