I C A ROBOT COMING/IN ITS HAND A SHINY THING
Look. Listen. As Elections Canada investigates allegations of widespread election fraud and subversion of democracy via ‘robocalls’ to voters that provided misinformation about where to vote (in some circles politely referred to as ‘voter suppression’), imagine a robot with a human face. One with greying hair, and a smug, somewhat vacant expression alternating with a faintly bemused smile: a robot that knows something you don’t.
Picture this robot sitting on the edge of his bed as naked as a robot can be and, having carefully unscrewed his robot junk from his crotch, even more carefully sealing these balls and bearings in a zip-lock bag. There is a glint of triumph in his robot eyes—perhaps even a sense of moral superiority. Now imagine all of Canada lying ravished, stunned eyed, and cold sweating in the bed beside him.
Got it?
For those who don’t know a hell of a lot about robots or Canadian politics, let me clear up a few things. Robot=Prime Minister Stephen Harper. Stephen Harper=Progressive Conservative Party of Canada. Robot genitals=conservative dirty tricks. Now, Stephen Harper will tell you he hates politically dirty things— grossly disingenuous spin and misdirection, misuse of public funds, election campaign funds fraud, robocalling voter interference, invasion of privacy, campaign dirty tricks, and so on. These are tactics that, he will assure you, he and his ilk have never had anything to do with. And, like any decent robot, he will go to great pains to ensure that there is no possibility that he ever touches this robot junk—no inadvertent fondling, no somnambulistic stroking, no wee hours wanking of it in the dark of the night—hence the zip-lock bag.
So, when the Elections Canada and the RCMP investigations into the latest crude attacks on (what remains of) our democracy are complete, I expect they will find no definitive connection to Harper and the Conservatives. The criminal misdoings will stay carefully sealed in a zip-lock bag, there for all to see, but detached, unclaimed, and unmanned, as it were. But make no mistake: Canada will still have been fucked by a political machine—and though cold and impersonal, it will feel dirty, no matter who was wielding the junk.
Pour yourself a tall drink (on me) and crank up this song, and keep one ear open for the robots whirring outside your door.
The War on Drugs – Baby Missiles
Posted by MT
