Coffee Shop Politics

I guess the fucking government must treat us good. That is what I was thinking as I waited for my breakfast to be put in front of me. I was reading the newspaper. Reading about people in the streets of a country moving its way up the list of nations the western world might one day accuse of producing weapons of mass destruction and then destroy in the name of democracy. The people were demanding that their leaders fuck off and die.

I ought to feel some kinship with the distant rabble rousers. Yet I do not. When I hear people demanding democracy I hear an old Who song about not being fooled again ringing in my head. That is not quite true. I hear Skrewdriver's version of the song. I might feel different if it were Freedom people were fighting for, not just a shiny new policeman's boot to crush their face.

Governments get off too easy. That is the history of the world. Fucking people over is not good enough for them. They want the people to tell them how much they like being fucked over. And that is what people do mostly.

The coffee shop was quiet so Ma sat down with me when she brought my breakfast over. Ma does not care what is happening on the other side of the world. She cares about what is happening closer to home.

"What you think about Kash Heed?" she asked me without expecting an answer. "Hindoo. Everybody crooked. Especially police. How come nobody in this country in the street? Campbell quit. Now we get new leader even more crooked than him."

"Maybe the NDP will get in again," I suggested.

Ma laughed. "NDP! All gay. Or Communist. Or smoke dope. Or Hindoo. Nobody vote for them except for gay Communist dope smoking Hindoos."

It was my turn to laugh. Maybe the NDP will not be elected but at least their leadership race mirrors our province well.