It was your typical Annex event, and due to the inclement weather all of the attractions had been pushed inside the school. In the gym there were about five bouncy castles, and scattered throughout the rest of the buildings were face-painting stations, games, food and a book sale. It’s always so sweet being in a miniature place like that– children’s happy paintings stuck on the walls, little science experiments trying to grow on the window sill, tiny water fountains– all these things triggering simple, happy memories in those who pass by.
However, it was not all joy. As I was sorting through the books for sale I came across one of mine. A Van Full of Girls. I was astonished to find it because so few were sold, and almost all to friends, family and acquaintances. With mixed feelings I flipped through it, saw that I had actually signed if for Gemma, a dear friend, and decorated it with stickers, drawings and celebratory thoughts. As I was looking at this and thinking about what an asshole Gemma actually was, an icy voice spoke down to me.
“Oh, to come across your own book at a used book fair! How sad!”
It was, of course, Canadian literary legend Margaret Atwood, who lives in the same neighbourhood as we do and with whom I “enjoy” a “relationship.”
Me: Oh, it’s you. Kind of surprised you survived that winter.
Margaret: As Chekov said, “ ???? ?? ????????, ????????? ?? ??? ????? ??? ?????.”
Me: Never took you for a Star Trek fan. Thought you were way too pretentious for that.
Margaret: Of course you did, my poor thing.
Me: And do you have to wear a cape? Is it enshrined in the constitution or something, or are you just trying to distract people from your hair?
Margaret: Oh, look. I found another copy of your book.
Me: NO WAY!!
Margaret: It looks like Colin– to whom you had written a very wordy, messy and somewhat incoherent message on the title page– is no longer interested in having your book in his house.
Me: Colin is a dick.
Margaret: Of course he is, of course he is. And who do we have here?
Me: Jones, come here, stay away from the scary lady! She’s Vampiro!!
Jones: Do you know Bigfoot?
Margaret: I make hotdog and kale soup for him all the time! Oh, he’s a great chap!
Jones: I want hotdog soup with Bigfoot!!
Margaret: Well, one day I’ll have you and Bigfoot over and we will have some soup, okay?
Me: Jones, come here! Jones! Don’t be tricked by her! She’s a liar! She devours little boys!
Rachelle: Miss Atwood, I just want to say that it’s a real honour to meet you, and that we are all very, very grateful for the beautiful gifts you have given to the world.
Margaret: And so you are the long-suffering Rachelle? Oh my, how lovely you are! Such a refreshing contrast!
Me: I’m right here, you know.
Margaret: Yes, yes I do know.
And although Doug shares the same bullying, impenetrable forehead and tiny, receded eyes that characterized his younger brother, he is distinct in a few ways. Primarily, he has always been seen as the steadying brains behind the operation. Always a belligerent and pitiless protector of his misunderstood, addict brother, Doug was also seen as the intellectual wind beneath Ford Nation’s wings. Doug dealt dope, while Rob used it.
That sort of thing.
At any rate, Doug Ford is now running against Liberal Kathleen Wynne to become the Premier of Ontario. He is doing better than you’d think, and seems to be riding a conservative, populist backlash that’s shivering up the spine of so many nations right now. Doug Ford, a white, affluent suburban businessman from a political dynasty, has long fashioned himself as being “For the People,” and has been making a point of courting various communities that might find more in common with his traditional values than say, Kathleen Wynne.
Who is a lady.
A lady lesbian.
A lady lesbian who is not For the People.
A lady lesbian who hates your way of life.
At any rate, one of the ways that the campaign is doing this outreach is for Doug and his family to go to a different community restaurant each month and review it. It’s part photo-up, part promotion for small business, and an opportunity for Ford to network and get his face in media. This is his first review:
Doug N’ Dash Food Reviews
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Pukka (Indian)
778 St. Clair
Toronto
I have to tell you, when I heard the name I didn’t want to go. Who wants to go to a restaurant with a name like that? Nobody, that’s who. Lazy marketing there. Imagine if my family had called Deco Labels and Tags, FIBROMYALGIA or something.
Pretty negative, pretty confusing, eh? So the first thing I would do is change the Puke name to something like: GOOD INDIAN FOOD THAT ISN’T TOO GODDAMN SPICY AND COMES AT AN AFFORDABLE PRICE.
The Indian people, so famous for their yoga, bright colours and diarrhea, aren’t stupid. No they just need somebody For The People, somebody who knows how to get the job done, to serve as a business mentor to help move them out of all the 7-11’s and into buffet style operations they can run themselves!
You will notice that Kathleen Wynne, who does not love minorities as I do, ever in a restaurant. This is because she has a finger disease in which the the skin is always peeling off. Really gross. Like a snake shedding it’s skin or something.
You watch her fingers.
You’ll see she’s hiding something.
So I had the butter chicken and the wife, who doesn’t much like the Indian food as it can give her the Aztec two-step, had something with kale in it.
You know women. Straight women.
Anyway, my chicken was good.
Not Swiss Chalet good, but good.
I’d give it a 7 out of 10.
Karla said her kale thing was good, too.
THIS RESTARAUNT IS FORD APPROVED!
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