Categories for Musings

Glen Murray, the Ontario minister of the environment, is gone. Some may interpret this as a loss for Kathleen Wynne. It isn’t.

It’s awesome.

One, I know Glen Murray. I’ve briefly worked with Glen Murray. I don’t like Glen Murray. Neither do a lot of people who are obliged to deal with him.  He doesn’t listen, and he considers himself the centre of the Universe.

Two, he is the loosest of loose cannons.  Hell, he’s rolling all around the deck, crashing into innocent bystanders, 24/7.  He was a migraine for successive Premiers.  He won’t be recalled fondly by a lot of the people who run the show, believe me.

Three, as the Star smartly points out, Kathleen Wynne doesn’t have to have a by-election to replace him – but, even if she does, she’ll easily win again in Toronto Centre.  That’s the safest Liberal seat in the province after Ottawa Vanier.

Glen Murray didn’t even have the grace to announce his departure in Toronto, in the seat he had the privilege to represent.  He did it with a statement issued out of Calgary.

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Glen.  You won’t be missed.

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By a former speechwriter to a Republican president. It’s deadly. 

The president’s primary problem as a leader is not that he is impetuous, brash or naive. It’s not that he is inexperienced, crude, an outsider. It is that he is weak and sniveling. It is that he undermines himself almost daily by ignoring traditional norms and forms of American masculinity.

He’s not strong and self-controlled, not cool and tough, not low-key and determined; he’s whiny, weepy and self-pitying. He throws himself, sobbing, on the body politic. He’s a drama queen. It was once said, sarcastically, of George H.W. Bush that he reminded everyone of her first husband. Trump must remind people of their first wife. Actually his wife, Melania, is tougher than he is with her stoicism and grace, her self-discipline and desire to show the world respect by presenting herself with dignity.

Half the president’s tweets show utter weakness. They are plaintive, shrill little cries, usually just after dawn. 

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On the porch. Sunday New York Times read (and you must, must read Dowd). Lala asleep. Dogs mauling each other. 

Sleep was elusive, so I got up and a thought occurred (they do, infrequently): I have these years where I get more “creative.”  It’s true. (“Creative” is in flying quotes because I lack another word.) 

The year done, I lapse back into somnolence. 

So, 2005 saw the first SFH record and Fury’s Hour.  

In 2007, the second SFH waxing, Wheel of Wow, and The War Room.

In 2011-2, the third SFH record, WDYHM (now purged of sexism on iTunes, long story) came out, and so did Fight the Right.

And, this annum, the fourth (and indisputably best) SFH long-play, SFH KINDA SUCK, and the newest door-stopper (that’s what Pete Donolo called my books, once, and I am sometimes reminded of that when scanning bookstore shelves for Pete’s own contributions), Recipe for Hate.

Could be a coincidence, but I am starting to wonder. Could something else be at work here, amateur shrinks out there in the dark?

Anyway. Going to keep going. Each day like it’s your last, etc. 

The year the tenth book comes out, however, I will drop dead. You can take that to the bank. 

Punk rock will be played at the wake. You’re invited. 

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Hey, look what was waiting for me upon my return from the West!

Book eight – out this Fall on Dundurn!

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Coming to iTunes next month!

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Meet the new boss, etc. pic.twitter.com/nqwrn32MIi

— Warren Kinsella (@kinsellawarren) July 26, 2017

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Donald Trump wouldn’t.  This morning, he tweeted – without the Pentagon’s prior knowledge – that transgender soldiers like this one wouldn’t be allowed in the U.S. armed forces.

He did that, of course, because he is going to lose the health votes and wants to change the channel.  Of course.

But it is still a hateful, despicable move by a vile little man, one who is wholly unfit to clean Sgt. Logan Ireland’s boots.

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One year ago today, says Facebook. Very proud to work for her in three states last Summer. 

She is the real president. She won with three million more votes, and it is now indisputablly clear that her vile Republican opponent cheated with the assistance of a foreign power. 

2017: what a shit year. 

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Here’s a picture of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls booth at the Assembly of First Nations in Regina.

It’s closed. No literature. What a bloody disgrace, as one hereditary chief said.

I say it’s getting time for some ministerial resignations. 

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