With Olivia Chow elected to be the next mayor of Toronto, surely we can write the final chapter of the interminable, meandering, wholly unsatisfactory, What was it even about? book of the John Tory era. Can’t we? He’s done, isn’t he? 
The rock has definitively crushed him in his one last attempt to roll it up the hill of relevancy. Hasn’t it? Continue reading
I have an Olivia for Mayor sign in the yard.
Pretty much by reflex.
Yet, I’ve wavered.
Four days before casting a ballot, and I’m still unsure why she’s running for mayor this time around. Yes, yes. For a ‘caring’ city. For better transit. For more affordable housing. For a change from austerity and a baker’s dozen years of conservative rule, the clock down to zero on Tory time. Continue reading
[Another Monday. Another fiction post. The next installment of Hate Inc. Part i here.]
* * *
“What do they mean we can’t say ‘N——’?”
Trew, one of my new classmates – no, ‘apprentice’. We’re learning a trade at The Cleft— was railing about the proscription against the use of the word, his favourite word, if you go by the number of times he drops it. That, and any variation of ‘fuck’. Fuck, fucking, fucker, fucked, we’re fucked. Continue reading