As I write this, I have a busy week planned. On Monday I’m going to the office of my local Member of Parliament and I’m going to demand some answers. I want to know why the price of gasoline is so high and why the Canadian dollar is below par again. I want to vent about our immigration policies and our free trade agreements and question about buying fighter jets that are obsolete before they take off. I want to complain about our parole system, lenient sentencing and long gun registries and unemployment. I want to know what’s happening with the Canada Pension Plan and I’m going to bang the counter until I am heard.
On Tuesday, I’m going to my provincial MLA’s office and complain about transit, or lack of it, in my community. I want them to know I don’t want to pay tolls on bridges I seldom use and I want to know what is happening with the teachers’ strike. I want them to tell me what the resolution will be to this Community Living fiasco and ask who decided where the new schools are getting built. I want to know what’s happening with hospital beds and voice my opinion on HST,PST,GST and all the other taxes I pay over and over again. I won’t leave until I get some answers.
On Wednesday, I’m going to the municipal hall. I’m going to ask them why Brookswood has no sewers or sidewalks or adequate street lighting and yet I pay the same taxes as other parts of the community that have them all. I want to complain about how long it takes to get from point A to point B in this town and ask why the developments are allowed in before the streets are upgraded. I want to see the snow removal plan for this winter and I want more buses and I want to know what’s happening with overpasses and how much farm land will be lost to condominiums. I want a say in where my local tax dollars are going. I will stand firm until my requests are met.
On Thursday, maybe I’ll get my tent and camp stove and sleeping bag together and head down to the Vancouver Art Gallery and join in the protest, Occupy Vancouver. I’m not really sure what it’s all about any more, but then nobody is. But I will ‘sing songs and carry signs, mostly saying hurray for our side.’ I will protest the world’s financial organizations and denounce those that throw around words like billion and trillion with no concept of what those numbers represent. I want my share of the international bailouts so I never have to work again. I will once again demand equality and freedom from poverty and oppression. I will shout at authorities and push camera men and flaunt the laws of the land, but I will get my point across.
Then on Friday morning, Nov. 11, I will go down to the cenotaph and stand in silent prayer. I will give thanks to all those that died in the muddy fields of France or perished in the North Atlantic or the South Pacific. I will thank them for their ultimate sacrifice that allows me to rant and rave and protest and demand and suffer no consequences.
Not all people in the world can do that. Without them, this country would be a silent, subservient place to live. At least that’s what McGregor says.