Gail Vaz-Oxlade's Blog

Whom We Touch

While I’ve been off TV for a while now there are still fans who drop me a line to let me know how they are doing. Most email. Some write letters or cards.  I’m always glad to hear from you.

After my last separation… about, oh, it must be almost 11 years now…  I talked about no longer getting wrapped pressies for my birthday. I’m not sure if that’s what motivated them, but a couple of fans on PEI sent me a birthday present box on my birthday.  The box arrived with the presents all individually wrapped. Inside were some of my favourite things – so these guys were really paying attention

In my first box I got something for the garden, something for my birds, a lovely pack of tea, a sweet treat… a couple other things that escape me right now; these were the things I most often liked to indulge in. But I could never say “thanks” because the PEI peeps only identified themselves by their first names.

When that first box came, I was stunned-surprised. Wow! Just Wow!  These were the only wrapped gifts I got for my birthday. (BTW I don’t hide where I’m from, but they also had my full address so… determined.) When the next year ANOTHER box of presents arrived, I was gobsmacked. What a lucky woman I am.

Anyhoo, I got a letter from Patty (I’m calling her Patty, privacy and stuff, y’know) a few weeks ago. Patty wrote to tell me that her husband, David, had died.

David committed suicide on a Saturday. The following week I posted a blog and Patty read it. She was writing to thank me for the blog. She said that reading that blog gave her the strength she needed to get through those early days.

I cried. I cried and I cried. And I cried. I went to bed early, tossed and turned, and wondered how I could possibly respond. What would I say? What words were there for this?

I found some words, wrote them to Patty, and set this episode aside for a time. I came back to it today.

A friend asked me a question and I flashed back to the previous blog and all the wonderful comments you all left for me after I posted it. Thank you.

All this is to say, we go ‘round this life just once. Every time we make someone smile, every time we tell the truth, every time we watch out for the other guy, every time we respond to hate with love (this is MY biggest challenge cos I just wanna deck ‘em), every time we do something that brings joy to someone else’s life, we earn the feathers that become the wings, which carry us up, UP and away.

David has taken flight. Patty is still here. And if you read this “Patty,” I want you to know how moved and grateful I was for your letter. I so appreciate the effort and the kindness you shared with me.

I know I’m not writing as much as I had planned when I started blogging again. So much that I’d write would be full of rage (at the current level of bigotry, hate and downright stupidity) and I’m trying to live a gentle life. But I do love sharing my thoughts with you all. So thanks for coming by from time to time to check up on me.  Happy day to you!

2017 was the summer I didn’t kill myself

2017 was the summer I didn’t kill myself.

It was a miracle really.

And I have the robins to thank.

For no reason I can figure, a momma robin decided to build a nest in the scaffolding of my garage. I leave the door open most days and nights during the summer. Sweet. little red-belly must have thought, “Dry. High up. Perfect.” Although each time I went into the garage, she would fly out. And if I stayed too long, she would sit close by and yell at me to leave.  I’d respond, “Who told you this was a good idea?” She persisted.

I had no idea how I slipped so deeply into the depressive episode without noticing what was happening. Diagnosed endogenous depressive back in my teens, I’ve been vigilantly on guard my whole life. At the first sign of a slip, I take steps to get myself back to even. I increase my meds. I watch my sleeping and eating patterns. I become a stern guardian of my thoughts interrupting ruminations before they make deep trenches in my mind.

I think it was the flu I had in March – high temperatures can set off a depressive episode – that started me on a slow slide that ended with me trying to order my children out of the house so I could go sit in my car and shut the garage door. My daughter, who is also a depressive, cottoned on and wouldn’t leave, reminding me that we had made a deal when she was only four (a story for another day): we would always be there for each other, no matter what.

Anyhoo.

The ugly face of crazy reached up from the dark where all my faults, my secrets, my mistakes have gone to hang out together just waiting for the moment that they can rush to the fore. I was exhausted from beating back the black. I was sure there was no way things were ever going to get better. I was done.

But she was there, my baby girl. Arms wide, beaming at me, reassuring me that she was not going to let crazy get me. She took her brother for a walk, explained what was happened and told him, “We’re not leaving, no matter what she says. If she asks when we’re going, the answer is, ‘In twenty minutes.”

So they stayed. I realized what had happened and upped my meds. And then I spent the next two weeks waiting for things to get better. They did. Very slowly. Better enough, at least, that I could see the robin feathering her nest, putting one twig in next to the other, making a home where her own sweet babies would be safe. And I realized the garage would be off limits as a suicide location.

When I told friends just how much I was fighting my depression, to a man they expressed some version of the sentiment, “You could call me anytime.”  Maybe. Or maybe not. Seeing as I was trying to drive my children away so I could do myself in, picking up the phone to a friend seems like a long, long stretch.

I’ve been suicidal before. This episode was right up there in my Top Five. Not since I’ve had my kids have I come this close.

The robins were born. I watched Momma Bird feed and nurture her babies as my babies fed and nurtured me. I kept taking my meds, kept watching my thoughts, kept getting better.  The fledglings flew off and by the time I could shut the door to my garage again, I didn’t want to any more.

The old song by Elton John keeps playing through my mind: “Someone saved my life tonight, Sugar Bear. Almost got your hooks in me, didn’t you dear.” I don’t think Sir Elton was writing about depression, but it could have been my theme song for the summer of 2017.

All this is to say, suicide is the last step in depression. It’s not a selfish act. It’s not about being weak. Depression is a disease. When people die of cancer, we don’t susurrate 

about their character at their funerals. So then why do we question people’s “motives” when they die of depression?

Mango Tango

As a kid growing up in Jamaica, I would eat mangoes plucked right off the tree. My favourite was a Bombay mango, which I believe originated in JA. (I haven’t eaten a Bombay mango since I’ve been in Canada.  

Books, Books, Books

It’s been a long time since I waxed poetic about a book I’ve read in this space. But more than one person has asked and so I will oblige. Here we go:

The Identicals by Elin Hilderbrand is about a pair of twins who have virtually nothing in common. Harper is laid back, easygoing, likes a beer and a shot and wouldn’t be caught dead wearing anything fashionable. She lives on Martha’s Vinyard. Tabitha is dignified, refined and prefers a fine wine. She lives on Nantucket, just 11 miles from her sister. After more than ten years apart, Harper and Tabitha switch islands – and lives. But they can’t outrun the secrets, lies, and gossip that plague them; by the end of summer, these identical twins are the centre of a storm. Fast-paced, great dialogue, interesting premise, wonderfully entertaining.

Almost Sisters by Joshilyn Jackson. I think I’ve read everything this woman has written. This one did not disappoint. Leia Birch Briggs’ is a graphic novelist who loves the idea of a super-hero, so when Batman propositions her at a comic convention, the sensible but very drunk Leia succumbs to his Bat-charm. When her step-sister Rachel’s marriage implodes and she finds out that her 90-year-old grandmother, Birchie, is losing her mind, she returns to Alabama to sort out her grandmother’s affairs and break the news to her family that she’s pregnant with a bi-racial baby. Skeletons in the attic make for lots of twists and turns. Delightful fun.

Boy’s Life by Robert McCammon is set in Zephyr Alabama, an idyllic little place where 11-year-old Cory Mackenson watches his father’s decent into misery after they both witness a car plunge into a lake. Dad dives in to help and comes face-to-face with a dead man handcuffed to the steering wheel. Dad is shaken to the core. Cory becomes aware of the forces of good and evil that surround him and must confront the secrets that hide in the shadows of his hometown if he wants to save his dad’s sanity. Beautiful words, lovely story. Themes of racism, if that’s a no-go for you, but I found it was handled well. (I often can’t read books with blatant racism because it hurts my heart. This one was fine.)

Paradox Bound by Peter Clines. Another author I love. This book was terrific. Set in Sanders, where nothing ever changes, except those times when a traveler blew into Eli Teague’s life wearing a tricorne hat, carrying a flintlock rifle, and driving a steampunked Model A Ford. This stranger is being pursued and Eli is determined to figure out what the hell is going on. Of course, his hunt yields far more than he bargained for as he crosses state lines and timelines to find the truth.

The Missing Ones by Patricia Gibney is the first in a series (yay!). A woman’s dead body is discovered in a cathedral. Just hours later a young man is found hanging from a tree outside his home. Detective Lottie Parker is called in to lead the investigations, which are connected since both bodies have the same distinctive tattoo clumsily inscribed on their legs. Lottie links the current murders to decades-old unsolved cases. And as she slowly unwinds the knot she finds a connection to her own family history. Good one.

The Drowned Girls by Loreth Anne White   was a page-turner. (Another series start… yay!)  Angie Pallorino is a detective who is called out when a Jane Doe is found mutilated in a cemetery. Etched into her forehead is a cross. That’s the same symbol that was used by a serial rapist who Angie hasn’t forgotten. As part of the task force investigating, Angie’s private life collides with her professional when she’s meets her temporary partner, a man with whom she had an intense, anonymous encounter just the night before.

The Immortals by Jordanna Max Brodsky is a re-imaging of classical mythology with a page-turning plot. Selene DiSilva finds the body of a young woman, gruesomely mutilated and wreathed in laurel. She is furious. But this is no ordinary fury. Selene used to be called Artemis and her campaign is avenging wrongs perpetrated on women by men. She’s been doing it for thousands of years. Now, as the Greek gods fade from cultural memory, she has to catch the killer before she fades away.

Want to win a copy of Debt-Free Forever from Audible? Leave me a review of a book you’ve recently enjoyed in the comments. I’ll randomly pick a winner. You have until midnight on Wednesday. Looking forward to your recommendations.  BTW, if you want to see more book reviews, let me know that too, k?

No Hate Media, Please

The amount of misinformation, hate, and outright lies being broadcast through our media these days is MASSIVE. From the Faux News station in the U.S. to the Post-Media owned newspapers across Canada, hate is encouraged and applauded.

It’s not just North America. The European Federation of Journalists has a “Media Against Hate” campaign. As they say on their site, “We aim to counter hate speech and discrimination in the media, both on and offline, by promoting ethical standards, while maintaining respect for freedom of expression.”  The Rabid Right has gone so far offside that Britain has jailed the leaders of the extremist group, Britain First. The European Union has given Facebook, Twitter and other social media companies an ultimatum: get rid of the hate speech on your platforms or there will be legal consequences.

We should be as demanding in Canada as other regions of the world are becoming. We should be actively prosecuting hate crime of all kinds. According to this CBC article, “The Criminal Code of Canada says a hate crime is committed to intimidate, harm or terrify not only a person, but an entire group of people to which the victim belongs. The victims are targeted for who they are, not because of anything they have done.” BTW, it is also a hate crime to incite hatred against an identifiable group based on colour, race, religion, ethnic origin or sexual orientation.

Now we come to the rub: People are protected from being charged with a hate crime if their statements are truthful or the expression of a religious opinion. WTH! So that’s why those racist, homophobic asswipes wrap themselves in religion? So they can be exempted from the “you can’t incite hate” rule? We’ve got to change that rule!

But that will take time. And it doesn’t address many members’ of media loose relationship with the truth. Want to do something NOW that will make a difference?

Post Media is notorious for their Rabid Right christian slant. The straw that broke this camel’s back was an article in The National Post reframing Canada’s trade war with the U.S. as Justin Trudeau’s fault. Seriously? Cos the Conservatives would just give Trump what he wants, and screw Canadians?

Perhaps if an advertiser or two were to pull ads, Post-Media would shape up (or ship out, whichever is fine with me.) The following is a list of retail advertisers in the National Post and Toronto Sun. (I have to be honest, I don’t know how they’re still alive.)

National Post (Toronto ed as of Tuesday, June 19, 2018)

Sportchek

Harry Rosen

Bell

MOGO.ca (financial)

TheGrowthOp (weed)

BeAssured.ca

Oaken Financial

The Green Organic Dutchman (weed)

Jolera.com (security)

HondaCanada*

MercedesBenzCDN*

SubaruCanada*

DilawriAuto*

*Thanks to @fleurdelis30 who sent these to me on the 19thvia Twitter. More please y’all.

The Toronto Sun (same as above)The Argonauts

Flair Air (airline)

TheGrowthOp (weed)

MOGO.ca (financial)

And many, many, many car retailers

If you want to add to the list based on the advertising in the Post Media publication in your region, send it along and I’ll add to the list. If you have access to a National Post or other Post Media paper at work, take a peek and send me a note if you see an advertiser we should add to the list. getgvo@gmail.com

The next step is up to you. Pick a company. Tweet, go to their FB page and comment, email them, write them a letter AND call. Tell them that if they continue to advertise in Post Media papers, you are going to join the #BoycottPM team building against them (yeah, that’s us).

When you see other people using the #BoycottPM hastag, retweet or share comments. Don’t just “like.” Retweeting/sharing will spread the message further.

If you are serious about calling out centres of influence peddling lies, hate and bigotry, it takes only a few minutes each day to send a message to a company that their money spent in a Post Media publication will cost them YOUR money.

The Gift of Giving

For years now I’ve been buying myself my own birthday presents. I don’t need my kids to buy me stuff with money they don’t have. And I no longer have a mate (who used to buy stuff HE liked and gift to me, ugh). So I make a list and fill it for myself for my birthday. Tea, plants, new feather beds (I now sleep on 3), fresh sheets, new towels, all kinds of garden stuff. This year I bought myself an air-fryer. No I don’t wrap ‘em.

So when a boxed arrived for me containing things that I had NOT bought myself I was surprised. When I opened it up it was full of presents, each wrapped carefully. Here’s what was in the box: a bird house, some lovely tea, a leaf-shaped cookie cutter, a magnetic list pad, and some ginger dark chocolate.

Lovely right? Even more lovely, this box of gifts came from people I don’t know who simply sign themselves, “Stephanie & Dave   P.E.I.” And they hit the mark dead on. My daughter looked at the presents as I unwrapped them and said, “Wow, they’re really paying attention.” Yup. All my fav things.

This is the SECOND time Stephanie & Dave have done this kindness for me. Here’s the stuff that came for my last birthday.

 

When people are so thoughtful, so kind, so generous it’s enough to make a grown woman of 59 years cry. Truly.

I consider myself a generous person. Whenever I can help out, I try to, be it with a small indulgence, a financial hand-up, or time and laughter. But I’ve never shopped and wrapped for a complete stranger like this.

I am also a grateful person, and I’m sending a huge THANK YOU to Stephanie & Dave. I’m not just grateful for the wrapped pressies (the only ones I will unwrap this year), I’m also grateful to be in their thoughts. You bet I’ll find a nice spot for that birdhouse, Stephanie & Dave. And the fairy door from last year sits inside my dark brown bookshelf like an entry to the joys and mysteries waiting there for me.

I’m a very lucky woman and I count my blessings regularly. I look up and the big sky and say thank you for the beautiful weather. I say thank you for rain. I say thank you for a parking spot. I say thank you for healthy, happy children. I say thank you for the wild roses growing on the walk Tabitha and I take each Sunday. I say thank you for the birds, the chipmunks, the squirrels, the bunnies, the bees and butterflies that inhabit my beautiful garden and provide me with hours of pleasure. And, funnily enough, I find, the more I say thank you, the more things I have to be grateful for.

We ‘human beans’ are an odd lot, y’know. We have so much and choose to focus on what is missing, what we want, what we desperately believe is our right to have. Yet, if we take the time to say thank you for what we’ve got, we fill our lives with abundance.

This year I participated in an event in Brighton that I just loved. It was called The Big Give. People donated all kinds of stuff – clothes, books, household furniture/ appliances, sporting goods, DVDs, CDs, jewelry, toys – and on The Day, anyone was welcome to come and take what they wanted for free. There was free food too. Someone even donated a bunch of plants. The Big Give was all managed by a local church. It was a MASSIVE success with over 700 people coming to share in the abundance of the community.

More and more people are getting in on sharing our abundance. I have a girlfriend in Ottawa who puts together bags of supplies for women who live on the street. I know of two women (separately) who cook and serve meals for the elderly/shut-ins every single week. I know an elderly woman who uses a walker, who always has a garbage bag with her and picks up trash as she goes on her long walks about town.

At the beginning of this year I promised the universe I would do something nice every week for someone. I think I’ve missed a couple of weeks, but I’m okay with how I’m doing so far. And, of course, I continue to be grateful to the universe for the blessings it has given me.

________________________

 

Deborah J Peel is the winner of the Audible coupon code for the copy of Debt-Free Forever. Send me an email at getgvo@gmail.comand I’ll send you the code Deborah.

And since I love to give as much as I love to receive, I’m offering two more coupon codes for Debt-Free Forever from Audible.  To be entered, leave me your favourite inspirational quote. Same rules, random draw. You have until Wednesday, midnight. Here’s one of my favs: “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.”  Mary Anne Radmacher

 

Time for Some Fun

I’ve got a code for a free Audible copy of Debt-Free Forever to give away. All you have to do is share your favourite not-well-known book title/author. So this can’t be a book that everyone already talks about. When I asked my daughter, Alex, this question, her answer was immediate, ” The Wayfinders by Wade Davis.” That’s the kind of book I’m looking for: hidden gems.

Y’all have until Sunday night at midnight. Winner will be randomly chosen. Bring it!

Happy Birthday to Me!

It’s my birthday this month. I turn 59. What do they call it when your birth year and birth age coincide?

As I look back on the last 59 years, I’ve learned a lot of lessons. Perhaps the biggest one is this: Where we are now is not where we are going to be tomorrow.  If things are going great, enjoy them because you’re in the up part of the cycle. If things have gone to shit in a hand-basket, hang on a minute, you’re due some good news.

As y’all know, I was heavily invested in making sure a certain political leader was not successful in his bid to become premier of Ontario. When all was said and done, the pollsters were right and he won. When I bemoaned my failure to my daughter, she quoted some obscure passage from a Terry Pratchett book as a reminder that even when people do dumb things, you can’t just throw up your arms and give up, you’ve got to fight to keep ‘em from destroying themselves.

And so the fight continues. I said I would leave Ontario if he won. I still want to. Having looked at Victoria’s weather, I think it’s a great place to settle in for my final years. The complication is that my daughter just got a job she loves (she was unemployed when I said I’d move, so moving was a no-brainer). I have promised to give her as long as she needs. In the meantime, I’m fixing up my little house. Last week I put a new ceiling and floors in the basement, the last space in the house that needed an upgrade. And I’m working through eliminating anything I don’t want to have to pack. I’ve already gotten rid of 20 huge boxes of stuff: books, kids’ clothes and tchotchkes, CDs, DVDs, and VHS movies and the like. I probably have another 20 to go. (The first 20 were so easy.) The next time I move, I’m going to be much lighter! (Anyone want a piano? A curio cabinet? Come and get them and they’re yours for free. Seriously.)

Everything takes time. Sometimes we become impatient because we want to change things NOW. I guess one of the upsides of getting older is that you’ve had time to strengthen your patience muscles. I am infinitely more patient now than I was when I was 29. And hindsight has proven yet another of my mantras: You CAN have it all, you just can’t have it all at the same time.So I’ll bide my time. And while I wait I’ll keep on believing that as citizens of a first world country, we have a duty to ensure that the most vulnerable are cared for, not mocked or made to feel ashamed of their circumstances.

My sense that Canadians are smarter than Americans has taken a trim. As I watch protests over the pipelines out west, as I watch Conservatism and the religious right catch hold in Canada, as I watch our young people grow increasingly frustrated with their economic insecurity and prospects for the future I know I have to keep speaking up. I want to duck and hide. Really I do. I’m so tired of the Nasties that I could cry. But I’m going to channel my emotions into positive action.

While I’m more like Nanny Ogg than Granny Weatherwax, I have lived my life using my anger to fuel my push forward. Whenever I’ve been told I can’t, I do. So I’ll ride the wave of my fury just like Granny:

“Granny Weatherwax was often angry. She considered it one of her strong points. Genuine anger was one of the world’s greatest creative forces. But you had to learn how to control it. That didn’t mean you let it trickle away. It meant you dammed it carefully, let it develop a working head, let it drown whole valleys of the mind and then, just when the whole structure was about to collapse, opened a tiny pipeline at the base and let the iron-hard stream of wrath power the turbines of revenge.”                          Terry Pratchett

The world is full of inequity. Why is it okay for me to turn on my taps and get clean drinking water while my indigenous sisters and brothers have to buy potable water where they live? Why is the colour of my skin an advantage when my black friends must worry about their children’s safety and must fight doubly hard for equal opportunities? Why am I promised a tax break when my daughter has to figure out how to live on a less-than-livable wage?

For my birthday this year, as I’m blowing out my candles, I am wishing for a world (a country, a province, a town) where everyone has enough to eat, children don’t die because they are crippled with anxiety/depression or the thousands of other forms of Crazy that destroy our souls, and all of us get to be who we want to be – live true to ourselves – regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or ethnic origin.

Each year I usually set myself one new thing to learn so my brain stays sharp. I’ve learned to knit. I’ve learned to paint. I’ve learned to garden, to cook new foods, to do yoga. I haven’t figured out my new thing for 59 just yet, but I’m open to the universe pointing me in a direction. In the meantime I’ll keep using my voice to help identify things that are beyond “unfair” that MUST be fixed. And when I see “stupid,” I’ll say so.

I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a memoire. I’ve played with creative writing in the form of some children’s books, which I’ve put off finishing for far too long. And I’m going to blog more about life, the universe and everything.

I want to thank you for the encouragement and kindness you’ve shown me over the years. And I want to encourage you to keep hope, joy and gratitude front and centre as you live through good and bad times.

To quote our beloved Sir Terry yet again:

“A witch ought never be frightened in the darkest forest, Granny Weatherwax had once told her, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.”

 

Time’s Up

For all of time women have been vulnerable to men’s advances… and I use that term with reluctance. Why? Because it seems so benign. There’s no threat in an “advance,” right?

For our whole history, women have come under the “protection” (here I have to snort) and rule of men. At the highest economic levels we were traded like cattle to keep the peace or forge relationships. At the lowest level we were raped at will with no recourse.

Then came the 21stCentury. Who knew it was going to take this many years for people to figure out that women’s bodies belong to women? Our bodies (our souls, our hearts, and our minds) belong to US. We do not need men telling us what to do, how to act, what to think. And if one of them gets a little horny, it’s not our job to make sure their frustration ends in orgasm instead of murder.

According to the Stats Man, “intimate partner violence— violence committed by legally married, separated, divorced, opposite and same sex common-law, dating partners (current and previous) and other intimate partners —has been consistently identified as one of the most common forms of violence against women, both nationally and internationally.” What the hell? You mean the people who SAY they love us are the ones who are hurting us? Yup. And when we tell them to stop, they tell us we’re bitches.

Put in historical context, we are seeing the dawn of a new age. This is the first time in our history that we have had the right to say NO. And men – not all men – are having a hard time accepting our boundries.

How it is that it has taken until the 21 century for women to gain this ground? And how will we protect the ground we have gained from the emotionally fragile, angry and fearful men who would re-take it from us?

I believe social media has played a large part in the gains we have made. Now that we can tell THE WORLD when we are attacked, now that we are calling out the misogynists that have blamed us (our sexiness, our choice of dress, our come-hither looks) for their lack of self control, we are seeing progress. Hashtags like #MeToo and #TimesUp help us to label our sadness and fury.

So here it is, it simple words: Boys, keep your sticky paws off us. Unless we explicitly say, “come and get it,” we are not up for your rubbish anymore.

I saw a tweet the other day that perfectly describes how our world is changing. A mother wrote that after watching Sleeping Beauty with her very young son, he was aghast that the Prince kissed Sleeping Beauty without her permission. He pointed out that since she was asleep, she could not have consented.

Just Say No To Doug

Mere weeks from the Ontario election, I’m watching with some trepidation as Doug continues to promise tax cuts to people who don’t need them. Sure, everyone wants to pay less tax. That’s a given. But how about what we get for those taxes? Are people prepared to give up the things we very often take for granted?

The 407 highway has been lambasted for the fees it charges. Imagine how much you would have to pony up every day if you had to pay tolls on all the roads you use to get from here to there. Won’t happen, you say. Well, if we don’t pay taxes sufficient to cover road costs, it’ll be the only option to finance road-works.

Send your kids to school? (Went to school yourself?) How would you manage $20,000 a year per child from kindergarten to the end of high school? Have a spare $280,000 per child, because that’s what it will cost you. And then there’s college and university.

Want to see the same shitty medical care system in Canada as they have in the U.S.? While countries around the world have recognized that medical care on the public purse-strings is the way to go (the U.S. is still a holdout), Doug believes a two-tier system is right for Ontario. If you don’t like paying for prescriptions and dental care, how do you feel about forking out for every visit to the doctor, to the lab for tests, to the hospital for procedures?

Here’s where ON currently spends the money it collects:

Source: Maclean’s Magazine,  by David Thomas, Mar 28, 2018

 

Like most people in Ontario, I am concerned about the debt. With Ontario showing a very strong performance economically, this should be when we’re paying that shit down. But unlike those who think that tax cuts to corporations and those making more than $100,000 are going to help cut our deficit and deal with our debt, my question is, “How?” How will Doug cut taxes AND reduce our debt? Where will the money come from? Will he turn on his round heels yet again and sell off The Greenbelt? Sure he says “no” now, but what about when he realizes (because he has no frickin’ idea) what it costs to run the province.

Here’s where ON get’s it’s money:    Same source

 

We already have the lowest corporate tax rates in Canada.

And Ontario’s personal income tax rate is one of the lowest in the country. (Those two things are most likely why we are running deficits and building debt.)

 

So we’re going to cut those taxes?

And then there’s the whole “social conservative” thing, which is code for “Christian White People Are The Best.” The homophobic alt-right has a firm grip on Doug. They won him the leadership on the OPC party and you betcha they’ll get what they want: no sex-education curriculum, more hate-talk against the LGBTQ2 community, women’s right to choose not being protected.

Doug has already indicated he’s all for carding; POC and Indigenous people are gonna have to watch their Ps and Qs. As if life isn’t already tough enough being a person of colour or indigenous in a country where racism will roar if we let it. Doug also believes in the “free-market” – capitalism run amok – so you can kiss rent control and publicly funded transportation goodbye.

I am a little a’feard, I won’t lie. Doug in charge gives me the willies.  He is so Trump-like that I’m not sure why people can’t see what he’s up to. And he likes to play fast and loose with the truth:

DOUG: “Then we look at Ontario, three hundred thousand jobs have been lost.”

FACT: Since 2014, employment in manufacturing has grown in Ontario

DOUG: “We’re being burdened by the highest hydro rates in North America.:

FACT:Figures showthat Toronto and Ottawa have higher electricity costs than cities like Montreal, Calgary, Winnipeg and Houston, but prices are lower than in New York City, Boston and San Francisco for commercial and residential customers.

DOUG: the PC Party is going to “turn this province around” and make it “the most prosperous region in North America.”

FACT: Gross domestic product of Canada’s largest provincial economy exceeds that of G20 nations Saudi Arabia and Turkey, making it the world’s 17th largest economy last year, according to data gleaned from the International Monetary Fund.

 

I was speaking with a neighbour last week about the blue sign on her lawn. I asked if there was anything I could say that would get her to not vote PC. Her response: “I don’t like Doug Ford but I’ve always voted Conservative.” Oy!

I don’t want to see what happened in the U.S. happen here in Ontario: friends and family turning against each other because of their political opinions. But when it comes to Doug, Imma draw a line in the sand. Anyone who supports that bigoted buffoon is no friend of mine because anyone who puts a blue sign on their lawn this election is clearly stating that:

1. They don’t support LGBTQ2s

2. They don’t want POC in their communities (let’s card ’em)

3. They think rent control, transportation & minimum wage increases are dumb

4. They don’t believe women have the right to choose

5. They are for a tax cut for the richest while the poorest fend for themselves

6. They are racist, bigoted, homophobic, misogynistic

7. They are selfish: Me before We, I’m-OK-Jack, screw poor people