Musings —09.15.2014 07:04 AM—
I don’t agree with Strobel on politics, pretty much ever, but this column had Kirbie and I laughing our keesters off on the way back from Stiff Little Fingers last night. Just great writing, here:
They don’t see Rob or Doug as hillbilly bullies. They don’t hear banjos. No, they see a chubby avenging angel marching downtown to clean up that snakepit of excess, greed and civic sin.
By folks, I don’t mean my downtown neighbours, with purple hair, pink poodles, a tofu lunch in their bicycle basket and a city arts grant in their back pocket.
I mean my old neighbours in Scarborough, who still debate Beatles vs Stones, live three days from the nearest subway and want City Hall to leave them, their lives and their wallets alone, thank you very much.
So they roll their eyes when John Tory gripes, before Sunday’s debate at the Evergreen Brick Works:
“(Doug) is afterall the gentleman that was joined at the hip with this brother, who I hope gets better…”
Yes, hip-separation surgery must be a bitch, Johnny.”