Everybody in my neighbourhood fucked off this long weekend. Everybody except Sonja, the Hammer and I. It has been like wilderness camping way out in the bush. So quiet you can hear the politicians dreaming up the next tax they are going to spring on us.
When I took the Hammer to the park she looked around for her little dog buddies but they were gone with their owners; most of them celebrating British Columbia Day down in a neighbouring country that spills oil like punkrockers spill beer after midnight. My dog misses her dog buddies more than I miss their owners.
The city has put up new signs all over town reminding their Anarchist citizens that dogs are not allowed to run around parks. The people who make up laws and put up signs are such motherfucking cocksuckers. If I want to let my dog run around the fucking government expects me to drive to the closest off-leash park. The off-leash parks are miles from my neighbourhood. Governments the world over prefer you to obey their fucking rules even if they make no sense for the environment. Leaving my car parked whenever possible prevents several thousand pollution related deaths each year. All the fucking government cares about is the Mayor's buddy, a signmaker who probably drives a Hummer, has been paid off handsomely for his support in recent and forthcoming elections.
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