2 August 2011
Everyone I talk to eventually gets asked the same question which is really two questions but I do not have to ask the second question before it gets answered as well.
"Yes," they tell me. "I voted to deep six the HST." What they do not say, but feel deeply, is that they would like to rip Gordon Campbell limb from limb. Motherfucker fucked off to England on them. Out of reach but not quite out of mind.
People I know historically vote all kinds of ways, if they vote at all. I have always thought of the people I know as a bellweather. A bellweather to which I add several measures of good old boy redneckism when I want to get a picture of what my whole blithering province is thinking. Rednecks, more than anybody, hate taxes. Cut down our whisky budget, they do. Old Socreds, old commies, trendy young motherfuckers of the left and right, Anarchist assholes. Nobody likes the HST except for people who we will soon add to that segment of society we know as the insane. The ones who drank the government Kool-Ade. Voting for the HST is like voting for an unicorn infested flat earth. It would take an Iranian election rigging to have the vote add up to the opposite result.