Thursday, May 7, 2009

Platform shoes.

Two days into this election and I am so bloody bored I could scream. How does Marilla do this political beat, day after dreary day? I'm not hearing anything to make me want a sign on my over-assessed lawn, unless that sign says "shut the hell up".    

So fellas, here are a few changes I'd be promising. Maybe they'll inspire you to think outside the ballot box.  

First, my green platform. I'd place a ban on plastic tampon applicators – at least until we get Peter Kelly's billion dollar coffee filter up and running again. I walk on the beach at Point Pleasant Park every day, and Dottie loves to fetch little non-biodegradable objects. See where I am going? If a gal really needs a plastic, cake decorating tube to hit the spot, well, maybe a government health pamphlet is in order. For the love of the ocean, flip your selves the bird, ladies. 

Next, I'd designate one afternoon a week for Nova Scotia seniors. Say, Thursdays from 1 'til 3. For a few hours, one day a week, those deserving citizens receiving the old-age pension can shop, drive, or go to the bank. The rest of us will stay home. If I get stuck in a line up behind Gladys or Earl one more time, making chit chat with the teller because they are so lonely back home and the grandkids never visit, I will scream. You are old and slow. Stay home and drink sherry. You earned it.    

Next, I'd prosecute or persecute, every driver who doesn't understand when there is room for two cars, side by side, or two lanes, you pick one or the other. Left or right. You don't ride down the middle. And, while I am at it, if you're at a light and making a left turn... inch up for Christ's sake. If you inch up into the intersection, maybe we can both turn before the light changes to red. Yellow does not mean panic and do nothing. You may not be in a hurry to go nowhere fast,  but I am.

And here's my health platform. Higher taxes for runners. All those eventual hip, knee and nipple replacements are sucking our medical system dry. We trans-fat sucking boozers just die – you people live forever. Your pavement pounding is making all these potholes. Plus, all the drive-by shootings are aiming at you! And, unless you are 15 and physically flawless, you should not go public wearing short shorts made of tissue paper. Think of Richard Simmons before you set your heart monitor and head out into the streets. One sight of your fleshless, neon-white thighs while I am eating in my car makes me lose my appetite. Oh, and jogging in place at red lights to "keep the blood flowing" just makes me want to drive up over the curb and end your anorexic life. And, while I am frothing at the mouth, just because you've hit the wall and are in that freaky runner's "happy place", STOP, and look both ways before you JOG into the crosswalk wearing a bathing suit and Bandaids on your nipples. I promise I will not slow down. 

And another thing. 10 items or less means 10 items or less. I promise to police this.

Finally, I think there should be a mandate that states whatever minority government we elect this time, should pick up the tab for the election. You wanted the job, you pay for it. Not me.

As for your small business tax relief, someone stepped in bullshit. Check your shoes.